Ring Around the Rosy (13 page)

Susan ran her hand across some of
the books Aunt Kate had left her. Aunt Kate didn’t have a big house, but every
nook and cranny was filled with books. She swore her aunt had collected every
book ever written by Agatha Christie and Dashiell Hammett. Susan picked up The
Maltese Falcon and held it to her chest.

Funny thing, the first of her many
journals came from Aunt Kate after Susan confessed she wanted to be a writer, a
journalist.

“Write,” Aunt Kate used to say.
“Write about everything and anything, no matter how foolish other people think
it is. Write every day, and you’ll realize your dream. Never give up your goal,
Susannah, not for anyone.”

Susan remembered the last time she
had visited Aunt Kate, the day she got her first assignment. Aunt Kate was the
first person she told.

“I knew you could do it, Susannah.
You have talent. Stick with it, and you’ll succeed.” Aunt Kate said and
surprised her with another journal, this one leather bound.

Susan put the book back on the
shelf. She knew what to do. She slipped on her shoes, grabbed a jacket and car
keys. It was time to visit Aunt Kate.

Her sister, Kate, found comfort
visiting the cemetery. Maybe she’d would, too. Even now, Susan mourned her
aunt. It saddened her that she didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. Aunt Kate
had died so suddenly. She wasn’t even sick.
 
Memory of the phone call from her mother played in her mind.

“She died peacefully, Susan, just
the way she lived.”

Susan wiped a tear and
concentrated on her driving, turning off the highway at the Twinsburg exit. A
few minutes later, she turned into the long drive of Locust Grove cemetery,
followed it just to the top corner of the cemetery, and parked. If she
remembered correctly, Aunt Kate’s grave was down the hill at the far corner.
She supposed she could have driven down, but it was a nice day, and she felt
like walking.

Susan walked slowly to an area she
thought Aunt Kate was buried, reading the inscriptions on the headstones along
the way. Hair prickled on the back of her neck. She never liked cemeteries.
Probably why she hadn’t visited before.

She found her aunt’s grave and
knelt down next to the headstone. Katherine Weston, Beloved Aunt. A strange
calm came over her, as if Aunt Kate sat next to her. She brushed the leaves off
the headstone. “Hi, Aunt Kate. I know I never came here before, but I needed to
talk to you. Kate says she comes all the time, and you give her comfort. I need
it now, so I thought I’d give it a try.

Susan paused and held back the
sob, building in her throat.

“Susannah, I’m glad you came.
What’s wrong?” Susan swore she heard her aunt’s voice, if only in her head. She
continued to clean off the headstone.

“I don’t even know where to start.
Two of my dear friends are dead, their kids alone in the world. Oh sure, they
have their grandparents and cousins. But that’s not the same, is it, Aunt Kate?
Their parents are gone. They won’t be there for them like mine are. Won’t see
them grow up, graduate, go to college, get married. Won’t see their grandkids.
It’s not right, Aunt Kate. They were too young to die. They had so much life to
live. So much to offer.”

Susan sat for a minute, not
talking, not even thinking, just taking comfort from the quiet cemetery. Only
the sounds of the birds, singing in the trees, broke the silence. No wonder
Kate liked it here. It was a quiet place to reflect, and she sensed Aunt Kate’s
presence, even felt her aunt’s comforting arms around her like when she was
little and had a problem. She could always talk to Aunt Kate.

“I’m not sure what I’m going to do
now, Aunt Kate. I just lost my job. You always told me I was too pig-headed for
my own good. I guess I am. But I’m right this time. I know I am.

“You always say that, Susannah.”

Susan laughed. She couldn’t help
it. Aunt Kate was right, she did always say that. “But it was my story, Aunt
Kate. Maybe I should have agreed to let Dan have it. If Ernie and Dan had
handled it differently, maybe I would have. I know Ernie was concerned about
me. But Dan… Dan is just being an egotist. He was mad because I got there
first.”

“You never would have agreed no
matter how they handled it.”

Susan smiled. Her aunt knew her
too well. “Besides, this is personal. I know these people. I care about them.
And how am I supposed to explain those phone calls? That voice? It’s
impossible. I know I’ll find another job — I’m a darn good reporter.” Susan
giggled. “Now I sound like you. But it’s true, and we both know it.”

Susan stood and walked around,
looking at other headstones. Aunt Kate was one of the last to be buried here.
Most of the graves were from the 1800s. She remembered hearing about a building
where they used to store bodies during the winter when the ground froze. They
kept them there until spring, when the ground thawed and they could dig the
graves. She bet it was the building she saw when she first came in. Maybe
someday, she’d research the old cemetery and write an article about it.

Although cemeteries usually
spooked her, she felt calm and relaxed. She went back to her aunt’s grave and
sat down again. A movement up near her car caught her eye. Was someone there?
Susan swore something moved. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her
hand.
 
No one was there. Goosebumps broke
out on her arms, and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

Probably just a shadow or her over
active imagination

Susan looked back at her aunt’s
grave.

“I’ve met the most interesting
man, Aunt Kate. I know you’d like him. I know, I know. You told me I’d meet
someone special someday. I like him a lot. I like being around him. He makes me
feel safe and pretty, and... Well, you know.” Susan couldn’t help but smile.

“He’s a cop — a detective. It’s
nice to have a man around. ‘Course, he drives me crazy sometimes, too, but I
guess in a good way.
 
It wouldn’t take
much to fall in love with him. But I’m not ready for that. I have a career to
build. Once I find another job, that is.” Susan pulled some weeds from around
the headstone.

“After what happened to Kate, I
sure don’t want to jump into anything. And look at poor Clare. I know Steve’s
not blameless — it takes two to build a relationship. You’ve told me that often
enough.” Susan brushed her hand across the headstone and ran her fingers over
her aunt’s name.

Lord, she missed this woman.

“That’s why I’m not ready. I’m too
committed to my job to even think about a relationship.” Susan said. It was as
if Aunt Kate sat there with her, just like she had so many times, listening
while Susan talked. Hardly ever
 
saying
anything. Yet, Susan always felt like a ton of bricks had been lifted after
their visits.

“I don’t have time for that right
now. Marriage is difficult enough between two people who are committed. What
happens if one falls out of love? Divorce is so easy these days.” Susan took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know I shouldn’t judge Clare too harshly.
That was always her way, wasn’t it? Clare never handled confrontation. I always
thought she had the perfect marriage, the perfect home, perfect kids. But, you
were right. There’s no such thing as perfect.” Funny, all the while Susan
talked; she swore she heard her aunt’s replies.

“What’s it like, Aunt Kate, to
die? Are you in heaven? Is there even a heaven?” Susan wiped a tear. “Is it
peaceful? Are you happy? Of course, you’re happy. You’re with your Benny. I
won’t ask anything else.” Susan kissed her fingers and touched them to the
headstone over her aunt’s name. “Thanks for listening, Aunt Kate. You always
were a good listener. I miss you. I’ll come back soon, I promise.”

Susan stood and looked down at her
aunt’s headstone. She swore she saw her aunt smiling at her the way she used to
do. The way her eyes crinkled at the corners. Her blue eyes sparkling with the
joy of life. Susan felt better, more content than she’d felt in a long time.
Nothing was resolved, but she felt better. She hurried up the path to her car.

Suddenly, she froze. A single red
rose, with a note attached, stuck out of her windshield wiper. Susan stood,
looking at it, Afraid to touch it, Afraid to read it. He had been there,
watching her.

How long did he stand there before
she sensed his presence? She spun around, looking for someone. Looking for him.

Her hands shook and her legs
barely held her up. She grabbed her cell phone from her purse and hit the send
button for Dave. Thank God she had keyed in his number. Slumping against the bumper,
the thought of touching the rose turned her stomach, and she had no desire to
read the note.

The caller and stalker were the
same man. She didn’t care what Dave or any of his detective friends said, the
stalker had killed all those people. Killed her friends. Now he wanted her.

“Susan, what’s wrong?” Dave
answered on the first ring.

“Dave...” Darn it! She couldn’t
catch her breath, couldn’t talk.

“Susan, where are you? What’s
going on?”

“I’m...I’m at the cemetery.
Uh...Locust Grove Cemetery. I...”

“Where the hell is the Locust
Grove Cemetery?”

“Huh? Oh...um...Twinsburg.” Susan
gulped for air. Why couldn’t she breathe?

“What the hell are you doing at a
cemetery in Twinsburg?” Dave yelled. “Never mind. Just tell me what happened?
Are you all right?”

Susan finally took a deep breath,
and let it out slowly. “Yeah, I’m all right. I came to visit my aunt’s grave.
Dave, he was here. He followed me.”

“Who?”

“He left a rose on my car.
There…There’s a note.”

“Don’t touch anything. I’m calling
my friend on the Twinsburg force. Just stay where you are. Hold on, okay. And
don’t touch anything.”

* * *

Dave grabbed the radio in his car.
“Bristol, connect me to the Twinsburg Police Department. Detective John
Gardner, to be exact.” He didn’t like this. He rubbed the back of his neck. He
didn’t like this at all. Susan was forty-five minutes away. What was taking so
long with his call?

After he talked to John, he called
Susan. “Susan, are you still there?” He didn’t like the way she sounded. He
started his car. He had to go to her. Had to see for himself that she was okay.

“I’m here.”

“Detective Gardner is on his way.
I’ll talk to you until he gets there, okay?”

“Okay. You’d better do all the
talking, because I don’t think I can. Detective Gardner That name sounds familiar?”
Sirens sounded in the distance,

“I hear the siren.”

“Okay, listen, stay on the line.
Give the phone to Gardner, okay. I need to talk to him.”

The unmarked car pulled up behind
hers. The detective got out of the car, and Susan’s heart jumped to her throat.
John? John Gardner? That couldn’t be, could it? He walked toward her with that
slow, easy walk she remembered. It was him. A detective? John Gardner? No way.
But here he was, walking proof.

“Susan? Susan Weston?” A look of
surprise registered on John’s face.

Susan stared at him, finding it
hard to speak. The jerk who broke Kate’s heart stood in front of her. Worse, he
was a friend of Dave’s. The thought of Dave brought her back to reality.

“Dave — uh, Detective Morgan —
wants to talk to you.” She handed him the phone and walked away. When had John
come back to town? She thought he was in Vegas. What would Kate say? Not that
Susan was going to tell her. Heck no! No way would she even bring up his name.

She tried to hear what John said
to Dave. Something about the note. She moved a little closer. John took the
note from the car.

“Roses are red, violets are blue.
Wherever you go, I’ll see you. What the hell does that mean?” John shot her a
suspicious look.

Susan caught her breath. He was
following her. How? She hadn’t seen anyone when she pulled in. The cemetery was
isolated enough. Surely, she’d have noticed someone. But if he went past and
waited until she was well into the cemetery, then parked on the road above
before he actually came into the cemetery itself…

She didn’t want to deal with this,
especially with John. She could hardly look at him, let alone talk to him.

“Ms Weston.” John sounded so
professional, Susan almost laughed. “I need to ask you some questions.”

Susan nodded. Great, just what she
needed, John asking her questions.

“Detective Morgan explained a
little. I understand you’re being stalked.”

Susan nodded again. She still
couldn’t bring herself to speak to him.

“Did you see anyone near your
car?”

Susan shook her head, cleared her
throat, and whispered, “I thought I saw someone, but the sun was so bright, I
didn’t see anyone. I thought it was my imagination.”

“Can you describe this person?”

“No, I didn’t really see him. It
was more of a shadow. Can I go now?”