Chapter Forty-one
Tallahassee, 1994
For the first five weeks following Penelope’s death, neither Mr. Proops nor Mrs. Proops said much of anything to Sheila. She’d catch them at times staring at her, but whatever suspicions they had they kept bottled up, at least during those five weeks.
It was only after they had collected Penelope’s life-insurance settlement, because surprisingly, at least to Sheila, they had taken out a two-million-dollar accidental-death policy on her, that they voiced their suspicions.
“I’d like you to explain something to us,” Mr. Proops said to Sheila as Mrs. Proops stood next to him, neither of them looking very happy.
“I’m eating. Can’t this wait?” Sheila said between bites of corn flakes.
“No, it can’t.”
Sheila rolled her eyes. “Fine. What do you want me to explain?”
“Not here. Outside.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
Her parents led the way to the rose bushes outside of what had been Penelope’s room. Mr. Proops got on his hands and knees and crawled behind the bushes.
“There’s a hole in the wall here,” he yelled out.
“If you say so,” Sheila said.
“There certainly is one! I’ve got my finger sticking inside of it.”
“Okay.”
Mr. Proops crawled back out, making sure to avoid the branches covered with thorns. Once he was on his feet again, he dusted himself off.
“That hole looks like it was made by a drill,” he said, his eyebrows bunched in an accusatory look. “How do you suppose it got there?”
Sheila shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“You made it,” Mrs. Proops said, her breathing shallow as she stared at Sheila.
“Why would I have done that?”
“You made that hole and you got those bees into it!”
Sheila stared with wide-eyed innocence before giving any indication that she understood Mrs. Proops accusation.
“You’re saying I murdered Penelope? By using bees?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”
“And you think this also?” Sheila asked Mr. Proops.
“Somebody drilled that hole,” Mr. Proops said, his eyebrows bunching even more.
“Well, if somebody really did drill a hole there and figured out a way to get bees into it, I think the police would figure it was the parents who were collecting on a two-million-dollar life-insurance policy they had taken out on their dead daughter. I have to admit that I’ve been wondering about that policy ever since I saw that letter you received from the insurance company. Why would you have taken out that policy if it wasn’t so that you could murder Penelope and collect all that money? And just between us, how did you get a whole hive of bees into the wall?”
Mr. Proops eyelids lowered, but he otherwise didn’t respond. Mrs. Proops slapped Sheila hard enough across the face to leave a mark.
“You’re nothing but an ingrate,” Mrs. Proops forced out. Her lips pressed hard enough together into a spiteful line that wrinkled the skin around her mouth, making her look thirty years older. Then she smirked nastily and said, “A peanut-brained piece of trash. Penelope was so much better than you.”
Sheila smiled at that. A hard smile that felt like it had been permanently plastered onto her face. Like it would take a chisel and hammer to remove it.
“Mother, you know what I find interesting about you accusing me of such a bizarre thing? You’re the one who spends hours fretting over your rose bushes. If there was a beehive in that wall, wouldn’t there have been a lot more bees flying around here? Why didn’t you notice them? Unless you did this?”
Mrs. Proops right hand flashed out as she slapped Sheila again, this time the crack from the blow sounding almost as loud as a gunshot.
She took a step forward, her breath sour in Sheila’s face. “I want you out of my house now,” she said.
“You heard your mother,” Mr. Proops said. “We won’t tolerate you here any longer.”
Sheila’s lips were still locked into that same icy, harsh grin. Nothing in the world could’ve gotten that grin off her face then. For the next thirty seconds she stared with pure, unadulterated hatred at her parents. Mr. Proops was unnerved enough by it that he stumbled back a step, but otherwise stood his ground. At the end of those thirty seconds, Sheila turned from her parents, went back into the house to collect her pocketbook and a few other belongings, and then left for the bus stop without saying another word to either of them.