chapter ten part three

Duck, Duck, Dead Duck; chapter ten, part three

Posted on September 30, 2020 by Minna Hong • 0 Comments

The private envelope that Lydia hadn’t wanted Brian to see loomed large in my mind. Though what we had already gone through was interesting and cause for speculation to say the least, I had a hunch that what Lydia had kept from Brian was even juicier. It was logical to assume that the reason she hadn’t wanted him to see what was in that envelope was because what she had found had something to do with him. Suddenly, I had to get out of there and go through the private envelope. I made my excuses, gathered up the papers, placed them in the manila envelope before returning it to my purse and headed for the door. Rafe followed willingly, but Brian was complaining. He wanted more time to look over the information, and while I couldn’t blame him, I wasn’t leaving the papers with him, either. I didn’t trust him further than I could throw him. I promised him that I would let him know if we came up with anything else of importance, but my reassurances didn’t seem to ease his mind.

“What’s your hurry?” Rafe asked as he walked me to my mom’s car. I could tell he wasn’t mad at me any more, but I knew we’d still have to discuss my withholding information. I, for one, was glad to put it on hold for as long as possible.

“I want to see what’s in the ‘not for Brian’s eyes’ envelope,” I explained, clutching my purse. “The other stuff is interesting, but I have a feeling that we’ll find pay dirt with the private papers.”

“You just want to dish the dirt,” Rafe said knowingly, giving me a peck on the cheek. He knew that I liked to dig deep—the dirtier the better. It wasn’t the most attractive part of my personality, but I wasn’t ashamed of it, either.

“Meet you back at the parents’?” I asked, lifting an eyebrow. He nodded and veered off towards his car. Driving at a slower speed than usual, I was outpaced back to my parents’ house. They were nowhere to be seen, which was unusual for this time of day on a weekday. Rafe waited for me to open the door before he started pestering me to bring out the private stash. We went into the living room and snuggled on the couch. I pulled out the private envelope and opened it. There was a few pieces of paper plus a bunch of pictures. The first piece of paper was again addressed to me.

Bea, this is something that I don’t want Brian to see. I’m hoping that it’s you reading this and not Brian. You see, for the last month or so, I had a hunch that he was seeing someone else. You know how it is. First, the attention starts wandering, then the sex isn’t as frequent. I tried to tell myself that it was because of his work, but since I don’t know what the hell he does, it was hard to convince myself that was true. So I did what other suspicious women have done. I followed him.

Plaster of Paris; chapter ten, part three

Posted on May 21, 2020 by Minna Hong • 0 Comments

He starts to speak, then falters. He is looking for Paris’s mother, as he doesn’t feel comfortable revealing information to anyone but the next of kin. This doctor is short, about five-six with blond wisps that go every which way but down. He is wearing round glasses that half hide keen blue eyes. My mother informs him with a smile that the Jensons are at the hotel because it’s been such a hard time for Mrs. Jenson, as my mother is sure the doctor can appreciate. The doctor’s sternness melts a little under the warmth of my mother’s smile. Lyle presses the doctor for information, causing the doctor to look at him with a faint look of alarm. Lyle introduces himself; Dr. Price reciprocates, looking at me questioningly. I tell him my name, nodding at him in a friendly fashion. The doctor relaxes, then tells us what’s happened.

“Ms. Liang reported movement as well as speech. This is a good sign. His vitals are stable, and his countenance is strong. I would feel better if he would emerge from his coma for a prolonged period of time, however.”

“So you’re saying not much has changed,” Lyle says dispiritedly.

“Not at all, Mr. Kingston. I’m very pleased that he responded to stimuli. Keep trying to connect with him so he wants to come back to us.” Dr. Price hesitates, then continues. “I have a feeling that for some reason, Mr. Frantz does not want to fight his way back. For whatever reason. By all rights, he should be out of the coma. I would urge you all to try to convince him to fight. That’s about all I can tell you right now.” He shakes each of our hands again, lingering a minute longer with my mother’s, then hurries away.

“I think he likes you,” I tease my mother, who doesn’t respond.

“So do we call the Jensons or what?” Lyle throws the question out again, waiting for someone to make a decision.

Rainbow Connection; chapter ten, part three

Posted on January 16, 2020 by Minna Hong • 0 Comments

Ashley was agitated about her father, calling him a shithead in sheep’s clothing. When Melissa pointed out that her father was well-known for his contributions to the community, Ashley openly sneered. She told them they were idiots if they believed everything they saw or heard. Her father was a first-class prick who had a mistress while her mother was dying of cancer. This mistress wasn’t the first one, neither, but that’s only to be expected from a bigwig executive like him. Her father was careful not to expose his wife to his peccadilloes, but she knew. Everyone in town knew, and her so-called ‘friends’ were always the first ones to tell Janice something, ‘for her own good.’ Ashley vacillated between thinking her mother was a saint for putting up with her father’s behavior and thinking she was an idiot.

That wasn’t the worst part, however. Ashley was in her father’s den one day, snooping for evidence of his infidelities. Even though her mother was dead, Ashley still felt the need to protect her. Ashley found a letter from a lover to her father asking for money because she was pregnant. She was asking for fifty-thousand dollars for the abortion and for ‘emotional damages’, threatening to go to the media if he didn’t pay. This was his last warning, the letter read, to do the right thing by her. Ashley didn’t know who the woman because her father walked in before she could read the whole letter. Her father freaked, ripping the letter out of her hands and screaming at her for spying on him. Of course, she gave it right back to him for being a hypocrite before storming off to group. Her father had caught her by surprise, coming home early like that. Ashley had thought she was safe because her father normally didn’t come home before nine at night.

Ashley’s agitation that day is starting to make sense. According to Maria, Ashley already suspected that her father was having an affair before then, but that piece of hard evidence would be impossible to ignore. I wonder if she had started searching in hopes that she wouldn’t find anything to verify her vague suspicions. When she first saw the letter, what was running through her mind? Was she planning on confronting her father? Or would she have kept it to herself, letting it simmer? Knowing her even as little as I had, I knew there was no way she would have kept that information to herself. Most likely, she would have tried to find the letter again to read the whole thing. I would be surprised if Mr. Stevenson kept it after Ashley found it, however. In fact, I’m surprised he kept it at all. I also wonder what the mystery woman would have done if Mr. Stevenson hadn’t paid. Would she have taken him to court? Tried him in the media? Infidelity is not a crime, but it could prove awfully embarrassing for him to be caught up in a nasty situation like that. Then there’s the question of, is the mystery woman the same person as the one Ashley said she was becoming suspicious of? If so, someone in group? I shake my head. This speculation is getting me nowhere.

The women are still talking about Ashley. She felt betrayed by her father who was always her idol. What if Mr. Stevenson killed his daughter to keep her from telling anyone about the letter? I dismiss the possibility because he would have done it immediately after she read the letter if he did at all for that reason. It makes no sense that he would have waited a day and a half before killing her. I miss part of the conversation, but the women are only rehashing what they’ve already said. My mind is drifting, so I almost miss it when Melissa comments that Ashley said she was going to make her father tell her everything. When I pressed Melissa what Ashley meant by that, she shook her head regretfully. She and Jean hadn’t wanted to push Ashley too hard because she seemed so distraught; now, Melissa wishes they had. It’s mean of me, but I can’t help thinking that the only reason they wanted to know more was so they could have the inside scoop. Many people crave fame and attention, and these women are no exception.

Blogging My Murder; chapter ten, part three

Posted on November 15, 2018 by Minna Hong • 0 Comments

Chapter Ten; Part Three

Wait a minute. Julianna left me all her money. Uncle said it was around three-quarters of a million dollars. If I invest carefully, I should be able to quit my job right now. Well, once the will goes through probate. I quickly Google how long it takes to process a will and find out it can take anywhere from a few months to a year. If someone contests the will, which I’m sure Eric will if he’s able, then it can take longer. In other words, I can’t count on that money any time soon. Then again, I have a healthy bank account, and if I’m very careful—I suddenly realize that I’m focusing on the money left to me by my murdered best friend. I start gagging, but nothing comes up. How could I be such a callous bitch as to spend my murdered best friend’s money? I put my face in my hands and weep. Onyx and Jet meep in protest, but they don’t follow me as I get up. Instead, they move together as one and curl up into a ball. I grab my smokes and go outside. I try to light one, but my hand is shaking. I steady it and light my cigarette. I take a long pull off of it and hold the smoke in my lungs. I deserve the punishment for being so cavalier about Julianna’s death. What’s more, I haven’t Googled anything else about it in a day. I made a promise to Uncle that I’d find Julianna’s murder, and I’ve been lax.

I go back to the couch and pull my laptop onto my lap. I Google Julianna’s murder and read a dozen articles. I don’t learn much that I don’t already know. She was killed in the wee hours of the morning by having her throat sliced and her tongue cut out. I learn that she was probably killed by some kind of hunting knife which the perp brought with him. Or her. I shouldn’t be sexist, though that kind of ferocity is more a dude thing. There’s a new tidbit—she was tied to her bed with her own scarves. Four scarves, one for each limb. The article lists the kind of scarves, and I realize I gave one to her for Christmas. It was a cashmere scarf from Nordstrom, and now it’s ruined. I brush that aside because it’s not relevant. OK. The perp planned ahead by bringing a knife, but he didn’t bring restraints? I’ve watched enough Criminal Minds to know that’s weird. Says to me that this person was, what? Impulsive? The person wanted to commit the murder, but didn’t think it through. Also, how did he know Julianna would be alone? Coincidence? I highly doubt it as Ramona had just left. Wait a minute. I sit up straight. The perp was watching Julianna! That had to be how he got her just after Ramona left. I scribble several notes to myself, my mind reeling.

Who would hate Julianna so much that he would stalk her? Who would have the time? Her ex-husband would have the time, probably, but not the means, I don’t think. What was the name of that woman who had plagiarized Julianna’s style at the Minneapolis Slammin’? Paula…no, that’s not it. Pamela…no. She’s a Latina…oh, right. Paola! I plug in her name and Minneapolis Slammin’. I come back with hundreds of hits, most of them related to her slam poetry. Her last name is Escobar, and she’s from New Jersey originally. She came here because the slam poetry scene here is second to none. Her boyfriend, Joey Simmons, came with her. This was three years ago, and they live in Loring Park in a two-bedroom apartment. He’s some kind of businessman, though there’s nothing explicit there. I raise an eyebrow at the fact that they have a yacht. A fucking yacht? He must be making bank for that kind of shit. What does she do? Not much. She claims to be a freelance writer, but I can’t find anything current written by her, at least not with a cursory search. That means she had plenty of time to stalk Julianna. What about Ramona’s husband? She said he didn’t work as hard as she did, and she was definitely lying about him being home that night. Goddamn it. This isn’t narrowing down my search at all. What about Eric, Julianna’s brother? On impulse, I call him. To my surprise, he answers.

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Chapter Ten; Part Three