51.

I know you're mad at me for killing Norma. Please stick with the story. It's going to be okay.

It's going to get better. ~ L

~ The detectives had waited respectfully for Alex to bury his wife before he was, once again, bombarded with questions he didn't know the answers to.

Norma had lead a chaotic life before their marriage, but most of her distress was traced back to other people. Either Shelby and his human trafficking, or to Norman's increasingly odd behavior.

About a week after the funeral, Alex was allowed to move back into the house. The motel shut down after the incident and there were no immediate plans to reopen.

The trees Norma had wanted were neatly planted just outside the motel parking lot and did a fair job of cutting off the view of the house. Alex went from room to room at the motel. Making sure nothing and no one was left behind before locking up. The entire property seemed lonely and sad without its' vibrant owner.

There was a higher volume of traffic breezing past the motel now. Norma's death, alone at the large old house, had made headlines in the small town. The paper even drug up the fact Shelby had died there and that, as Sheriff, Alex Romero had arrested the then Norma Bates for suspicion of the murder of Keith Summers; the property's former owner.

He'd forgotten to tell the detectives about that in the first interview. It had seemed so long ago now. Like it had happened to other people maybe.

But they were finding out. They were digging into the past and discovering things Alex and Dylan had forgotten about; or never knew about.

Alex was asked about someone named Caleb Calhoun. Apparently Norma's estranged brother had spent some time in prison for assault. He'd stopped reporting to his parole officer and hadn't been found since the pandemic started.

"Caleb Calhoun is very dangerous." Alex was told. "He's skilled at camping. He might be camping around here. Have you seen him?"

Alex looked at the outdated mug shot. A weathered looking man scowling at the camera. It was easier to believe this man was Norma's father as opposed to her brother. Caleb looking so haggard and aged, where Norma invested more into her appearance.

"I don't think so." Alex told them handing back the series of mug shots.

"Did your wife ever talk about her brother?"

Alex shook his head.

"I didn't know much about her childhood. She didn't like to talk about it." He explained.

Romero had learned, only from police reports and tax records, that Norma had been born in Florida. That she had run away from home with her first husband, Dylan's father, at sixteen. That her own father had a long arrest record for battery and petty theft. Both her parents were now dead.

Norma had divorced John Massett and remarried in the same year. Her second husband, Sam Bates, had died six months before she'd moved to Oregon from Arizona with her second child, Norman Bates. Sam Bates had been fooling around in the garage while heavily drunk. He'd pulled a large shelf onto himself and been crushed. An unfortunate mixture of alcohol and blood thinners had made a simple hit on the head bleed internally and kill him.

Mother and son had been home at the time. It had been Norman who found his father, but his mother had made the 911 call.

Alex learned that Norma had a strange, transient life that any gypsy would envy. She had left high school when she eloped with her boyfriend. She managed to obtained a GED from a local educational outreach program in Ohio, but there were no other education records on her to be found until she came to Oregon and enrolled at the local community college. She had a very sporadic employment history. Going long stretches without a documented job that required her social security number. Her only medical records were when she'd given birth to Dylan at age seventeen, and then to Norman four years later. She didn't even have a drivers license till she was in her early twenties. The first car in her name was the old Mercedes.

She had never owned property until she bought the motel online and paid it in full out of her husband's life insurance. She'd never had a credit card until she was a widow and new business owner. It was like his wife had suddenly sprung into existence only after Sam Bates death. Like she was finally allowed to live in the real world. No wonder the police were so suspicious of her life and everything surrounding it.

"Has Norman Bates contacted you?" They would always ask.

"No."

"Did he know about your marriage to his mother? That she had another child during the quarantine?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

"Has anyone made threats against you or your wife?"

"I was the sheriff here for eight years. The day my wife died was my first day as a civilian." Alex said as an answer. "Yes. People threatened me and my family. All the time. Most of them were just talking shit."

"But threats were made."

"Yes. I put bad people away. That was the job." He snapped back. "Some people didn't like that."

It was endlessly frustrating. The sudden memories that would remind him to tell the detectives. Norma's last few days on earth. Her missing picture in its' silver frame. Her blue sweater. He'd sent Norma a picture of Lulu at the greenhouse and never got a reply back. He'd forgotten all about it till he looked at his own phone. His old texts from her.

Old texts that were of ordinary, everyday things.

'Can you pick up eggs?'

'Where are the stamps?'

'Did you cash that check from the insurance company? I'm not seeing it on the statement.'

'Never mind. I see it now. Thanks.'

'Tom wants $5,000 to renew the lease on the billboard outside of the diner. That's for the year. He's taking advantage of us. All the new businesses in town want that billboard.'

'Did you see that video I sent you? Lulu throwing one of her doll? So cute!'

'Don't forget that check to Tom for the billboard. I need a receipt.'

'Chick says that iron fence would go around the house. He can get started this summer.'

'Did you talk to Chick about the fence?'

'When are you coming home?'

'I'll see you tonight. We're having chicken.'

That had been the last text Norma had sent him. His last day at the job. The day before he lost her. Her texts were all just simple, day to day things. The detectives, names and faces Alex could never keep strait anymore, had kept Norma's phone. All her pictures of Lulu. All her information.

The cop in him knew that was for the best. A person's smart phone told the police everything about a person. Even the last time the phone was accessed, who was called or what was looked up.

Norma's killer might be on that phone.

Alex somehow doubted it. It had been a two weeks since she died and still nothing. The house Norma loved so much, had cared for so much, had become messy. Alex putting the dirty dishes in the sink and ignoring them. He'd fallen back into the habit of TV dinners. He only did laundry when absolutely necessary. His clothes were on the floor, several days sitting in the washer or dryer, or needing to be washed.

Norma's clothes were neatly stashed away in her closet, seeming to await her return.

Lulu, thankfully, was either at her daycare of with Dylan and Emma. Her pink bedroom forgotten about as grief engulfed her father completely.

Alex started drinking again. A habit he'd lost being married to Norma. When he was drinking, it was always hard. Always to the point he felt barely conscious of what was happening.

It would have been so easy to join Norma now. To allow himself to fall under the deep water of his loss. He still had a spare handgun. It would be quick. He would make arrangements for Dylan to come to the house an hour or so after he would do it. He'd tell his stepson they needed to talk about his mother. To come alone.

His brain was fuzzy from the poor eating and heavy drinking. All the shades drawn in the house and Alex could feel cocooned inside its' darkness.

He'd leave a hastily written will. Saying he wanted Lulu to be raised by Dylan and Emma. That the house, motel, insurance and all their life savings, would all go to Lulu and her brother Dylan. Which was fair.

He'd promised he'd always take care of Norma, he'd failed at that. So the least he could do now was provide for their daughter and her son. Give them a better life. A better life without him.

Dylan and Emma hadn't talked much about having children of their own, but they would be good to his daughter. They would love her. Lulu was still young. With time… she would forget all about this horrible mess. She could still be happy.

Alex forgot how time worked. He had no appetite anymore. His brain was always fuzzy. Maybe he was dead already. He only knew about wandering around the house and feeling sorry for himself. Of the endless game of daring himself to actually do the thing that couldn't be undone. Of the spartan calls from the detectives that now seemed totally lost about who killed his wife.

He wanted to die here, in the living room where he found her. They could haunt this old house together. He should have done this a long time ago. As soon as she left him in fact. They could have gone together.

The house already looked haunted. In a state of indifferent housekeeping that Norma would have become apoplectic at. Alex had wandered through the house as though in a trance. His head clearing from the booze.

'Just do it, you coward.' He told himself. 'Lulu is better off without you. Dylan and Emma are better parents to her than you could ever be. Just put that gun to your temple and fire. Dylan will make sure everything is taken care of. You're leaving them with enough money to make sure they'll be secure. Just do it.'

He was always talking to himself like this now. Wandering down the main hallway to the kitchen as if sleep walking.

In the dim, dirty kitchen, he almost didn't notice Norman Bates sitting at the table.