Chapter 3.3
June 21st 1993 (One Week Later)
"Come on." The voice hissed, patience fast expiring.
"I'm trying." The reply came, breathless and laboured.
"Anybody else would've had this thing open by now." The croaky old voice spat again. "But not you. No, they had to send me a lightweight."
"Maybe if you'd help... Instead of standing there lecturing..." The young voice grunted as the girl spoke, the creaking of wood, the straining of metal as the huge wooden doors abruptly opened, knocking Tiffany from her feet as she released the handle. As the dust began to settle, and Tiffany pressed her palms into the dirt, pushing herself upright, Mrs Appleby staggered forward and into the cavernous entry of the barn, the darkness within seeming to beckon the old girl forward as she stood with an expectant look, mouth agape.
"Dear god." Mrs Appleby whispered as she narrowed her eyes and stared into the void before her, never noticing Tiffany rise to her feet behind her, brushing the dirt and dust from her jeans.
"You're welcome Tiffany." She muttered under her breath, the sarcasm not picked up as Mrs Appleby stood with her back to her. The sun beating down across the small town amplified the dusty atmosphere as Tiffany coughed, causing Mrs Appleby to turn and snap from her hypnotic state.
"I haven't opened this barn in so long." She softly said, her face overcome with emotion.
"No kidding." Tiffany said, craning her neck and looking around the area for any sign of life.
"Not since my Gerald died." Mrs Appleby whispered, turning back to the barn.
"So why are we opening it now then?" Tiffany asked, confused. "Bit weird isn't it?"
"You'll see." Mrs Appleby called back over her shoulder as she entered the interior of the barn, fumbling on the wall beside the door as she ran her hand along the coarse wood, finally finding the light switch. The lights, high in the rafters, sparked as the current passed through the circuits and illuminated the barn, agricultural equipment of every kind as far as the eye could see, lying dormant as rust took hold and sucked the life from it.
"I'm guessing Gerry was something of a hoarder then?" Tiffany asked as she followed, now standing in the doorway as Mrs Appleby joined her.
"Don't call him that." She scowled. "He was christened Gerald."
"Fair enough." Tiffany smiled, reaching into her pocket and pulling the pack of cigarettes free. Tearing the cellophane wrapper from the box, Tiffany flipped it open and retrieved a lone cigarette, placing the filter between her lips as she returned the pack to her pocket.
"Jesus Christ." Mrs Appleby yelled, turning as Tiffany struck her match down the barn door, the naked flame sucked into the end of the cigarette as Tiffany inhaled, quickly extinguishing the flame.
"What?" Tiffany asked as she exhaled the acrid cloud of smoke, gripping the cigarette between her fingers and holding her arms out.
"You want to blow us the fuck up you stupid idiot?" Mrs Appleby hollered, grabbing the cigarette and throwing it to the floor, immediately stubbing it out with her slipper.
"Whoops." Tiffany laughed, noticing the half filled cans of gasoline littering the barn. "Sorry."
"You will be sorry." Mrs Appleby turned back to the assembled junk and machinery. "You still owe me for those infernal things too."
"I know." Tiffany rolled her eyes as she stepped forward and stood beside her new friend, now safely inside the confines of the huge, wooden structure.
"Disgusting habit. Probably be the death of ya..." She carried on, turning to Tiff. "But I ain't your god damn mother, so you do as you please."
"I don't know..." Tiffany pondered. "I see myself going in a more glorious manner than emphysema or lung cancer."
"Nothing glorious about dying." Mrs Appleby waved her hands and stepped forward, approaching a huge object hidden beneath a tarpaulin. "My Gerald was evidence of that."
"How did Gerry die?" Tiffany asked as she followed on, noticing the look on Mrs Appleby's face as she turned her head in Tiffany's direction, correcting herself instantly. "Sorry, I meant Gerald."
"I don't want to go into it. Let's Just say some people aren't cut out for dealing with the 'difficult' periods life has to offer." Mrs Appleby snapped as she grabbed one corner of the tarpaulin, nodding her head and indicating for Tiffany to grab the opposite corner. Following her lead and heading to the other side of the huge cover, Tiffany grabbed the material and lifted, Mrs Appleby doing the same as her frail arms worked over time, the equipment hidden away beneath suddenly coming into view and knocking the breath from Tiffany's lungs. Continuing to pull, the two women feverishly worked in unison as they finally removed the whole cover, Mrs Appleby stepping back and placing her hand over her mouth. The gleaming red body of the 1959 Plymouth Fury seemed to glow as the dust settled across the hood, the curves of the double barrelled fenders seeming to sparkle as the floating headlights appeared beneath, the front grill dazzling as the sunlight flowed through the barn door and illuminated the metal leviathan, rising from the ashes of its hay strewn prison as it finally found release from the darkness. As the tarpaulin flapped to the ground, the car seemed to glow majestically as the two women stood in awe, Tiffany never expecting anything quite like the sight that sat before her right now.
"Holy fuck!" She gasped as she took a step towards the car, bending over and creating a sun visor with the back of her hand, protecting her eyes from the influx of light. The interior was immaculate, the leather upholstery seemingly brand new, the myriad of dials and buttons gracing the cockpit like something from a present day jet. As she stood back and allowed her eyes to run down the length of the car, front to back, Tiffany ran her fingers along the body work, the two door sports vehicle of yester-year feeling like heaven to the fingertips as she reached the end of the car, the fins rising gracefully as the roof of the vehicle tapered into the trunk section.
"Quite the sight isn't it?" Mrs Appleby crossed her arms and smiled.
"She's beautiful." Tiffany smiled, looking to the old woman, before returning her gaze to the automobile.
"She?" Mrs Appleby looked confused.
"Its a she..." Tiffany smirked as she allowed her fingertips to caress the end of the rear fin. "No mistake."
"My Gerald thought it was a 'she'." Mrs Appleby laughed, her cackle slowly morphing into a chesty cough.
Looking to the floor, Tiffany eyes the wheels over, not a mark evident as she walked slowly around the car. She'd never been one for fast cars, flash cars or expensive cars, but even she had to marvel at the condition of this vehicle, not seeming to age one minute, sleeping in some form of stasis as the past thirty-four years thundered along outside the barn. The white wall tyres were offset by the most sublime hub caps, the polish reflecting the interior of the barn, the curve of the steel fixture lending a convex tone to the image flashed back.
"How long as this been in here?" Tiffany asked as she came to a standstill beside Mrs Appleby.
"Almost five years." She answered. "One of the last things my Gerald did, take it for a drive. After that, who knows what he was thinking. Next morning, I woke up and found him on the couch. Poured himself a large glass of bourbon, laced it with rat poison. When I came down, he was stiff as a board, like he'd been convulsing. I'll never forget he had this look of fear in his eyes. Try as I may I can't get that image out of my mind."
"Jesus." Tiffany whispered.
"Doctors said it was the strychnine that did it." She continued. "Said he'll have used that because it was odourless, tasteless when mixed with the bourbon, and he didn't need much. Just a small amount would've caused a man of Gerald's age severe problems."
"I'm so sorry." Tiffany placed a hand on Mrs Appleby's shoulder, the frail woman breathing sigh as she dug into the pocket of her apron and fished around, removing her hand and revealing the keys to the mighty beast before them.
"What say we take it for a drive?" She asked, handing the keys to Tiffany.
"Me?" Tiff seemed shocked.
"What? You think a little old woman like me could ever drive that thing?" She laughed. "Oh no, I wouldn't be able to. It's been too long. My arms aren't as strong as they once were."
"I could probably do it." Tiffany gently took the keys. "It's been years, but I have my license... Somewhere."
"When was the last time you drove?" Mrs Appleby asked as they approached the car, Tiffany inserting the key in the driver's door and turning, hearing the click as the door opened in her hand.
"Probably about 1987." She answered. "But they say you never fully forget."
Pulling open the passenger door, Mrs Appleby slumped into the seat beside Tiffany, confusion reigning across her features as she furrowed her brow.
"So how the hell did you escape from the police?" She asked, puzzled.
"When?" Tiffany spun to face her, as surprised as her passenger.
"When you tried to kill that young man." Mrs Appleby enquired innocently.
"That was self defence!" Tiffany snapped automatically.
Mrs Appleby shrugged her shoulders, as though to say 'whatever'.
"If you say so dear." She muttered under her breath as Tiffany inserted the key in the ignition. "So how in the hell did you escape when you'd 'defended yourself' then?"
"If you must know I caught a train." Tiffany replied, concentrating as she turned the key in the chamber, the engine attempting briefly to fire into life but having none of it.
"A train?" Mrs Appleby repeated her, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly as she did so. "You simply have to be the stupidest girl I've ever met."
Tiffany released the key, surprised, but not entirely shocked at the insult hurled her way. Taking a deep breath and giving it a few seconds, Tiffany once more turned the key, the engine labouring once more, the starter motor struggling as the engine attempted to turn over, but once more she released the key, failure the outcome once more.
"It won't start." She sighed. "Not surprised though, how long its been sat here."
"Ah well." Mrs Appleby opened her door and began to climb back out of the car. "I'll head into the store and call Ed Thompson. He'll send someone to look at it. Hell of a shame to leave it here gathering dust any longer."
"Sure would be." Tiffany looked in the rear mirror and adjusted her hair, held up by a bright red bandana. Watching from the interior of the car, she monitored Mrs Appleby as the old woman left the barn and shuffled her feet across the dirt track, the back of the store directly opposite the barn doors, watching still as Mrs Appleby entered the store and headed to the phone in the office.
"So this is the problem?" The mechanic stood in the entry to the barn, dropping his tool bag and making to stroll across the empty floor. Standing at about six feet tall, built like a pro athlete and with enough stubble gracing his chin to ignite a match, Tiffany had followed like a moth to a light bulb, curious about the first 'proper' man she had laid eyes on in almost three years.
"It sounded like it was trying to start." She chipped in as she handed him the keys. "But nothing, it just wouldn't turn over."
"Probably be something and nothing." The mechanic smiled as he took the keys and opened the door, flicking the hood release catch and jamming the keys into the ignition, trying to start the car once more. Nothing. "Can't be usual wear and tear. There's only seven thousand on the clock."
"Jesus." Tiffany crossed her arms, pushing her breasts up as she did so. "It's hardly been used then?"
"Either that or it's a fake and old lady Appleby's planning on ripping somebody off." The mechanic smiled broadly, standing from the interior of the car and making his way to the hood. Slipping his fingers beneath the rim of the hood, he found the latch and flicked it, the mechanism releasing the hood fully as he lifted it high above his head extended the support.
"You never know." Tiffany laughed, joining in the joke. "Wouldn't be the first time. You should see what she charges me for cigarettes."
"Yeah, you think that too?" He laughed as he extended a lightly greased palm in Tiffany's direction. "Name's Joe."
"Tiffany." She answered, giggling as she shook, his hand feeling rough and firm around hers.
"So..." He asked, head bowed under the hood. "Don't take this the wrong way, but... Are you one of Appleby's strays?"
"How do you mean?" Tiffany asked.
"This whole probation thing she enrolled on out of the blue a few years back." Joe answered, his hands working over the engine as he wiggled wires, jostled parts and generally let his fingers wander over anything and everything.
"Afraid so." Tiffany sighed. Why did he have to fetch that up? Looking at him now, bent over the engine, his huge arms labouring away, his no doubt perfect ass buried beneath the greasy overalls, Tiffany would guess him to be around the forty year mark. Maybe a few years less. Regardless of age though, Tiffany had to agree, he certainly made her legs shake as he stood bolt upright and turned his attention to her.
"Don't be downhearted." He allowed an apologetic look to appear. "We all fuck up now and then. Important thing is to focus on now, not then. You're new round here, once people get to know you you'll be fine."
"I hope so." Tiff agreed. "I've only been here a week and I can't tell whether the old girl likes me or not. One minute she's making me breakfast, next she's calling me the stupidest girl she ever met. Seems like I can't win. I mean, why enrol on this probation thing if she's not prepared to be a little more welcoming."
"Meh... I don't know." Joe smiled as he returned his attention to the engine, talking over his shoulder as he set to work with his screwdriver. "Appleby's always been like that. She must have a reason for having you here. Just see what happens."
"I guess so." Tiffany sighed, leaning her back against the front of the car, her elbows resting against the rim of the hood as she slowly allowed her hips to bounce slowly back and forth, the car beginning to move slightly under the slight strain. "So, you live around here then?"
"Yep." Joe answered, his voice straining as he fiddled with the engine. "Born and raised."
"In this town?" Tiffany asked once more.
"Na, I live about two miles down the road. There's a trailer park." He turned to Tiffany. "Mountain Peak? You not see it on the way up?"
"No, I was asleep half the way here." She answered honestly, something of a rarity these days.
"Oh yeah, you'll have come off the interstate, then down the highway." Joe suddenly snapped something off in his hands, gratification filling his voice as he hollered. "Well I'll be damned."
"What is it?" Tiffany asked, bending forward and pulling a cigarette from her pack, just about to ignite her lighter as Joe reached out and snatched it from her hand.
"You might now want to do that." He said. "I don't really feel like being blown through the roof of this barn today."
"Sorry." She laughed, half embarrassed, craning her head into the engine as Joe did the same. "What is it?"
"Carburettor's blocked." He pointed into the chamber, the straw and various other pieces littering the intake pipe.
"Meaning?" Tiffany enquired.
"Meaning," Joe started as he smiled and pointed through the parts of the carburettor. "The air intake's blocked. Maybe something's been nesting in here at some point. No air means no mixture, means no starting the engine. Give me a minute and I'll clean it out. We should be good to go then. Everything else looks okay. I checked the battery and there's still a damn good charge in that thing."
"Really?" Tiffany seemed stunned. "I thought you were going to say it was done for. Offer her $50 to take it away."
"Na." Joe laughed as he fished around his tool bag. "Don't get me wrong, me and Appleby don't exactly see eye to eye. But I'm not in the business of ripping people off. Beside which, Mr Thompson would probably have something to say about that."
"He's your boss?" She asked once more.
"Yeah." Joe answered. "Damn good one too."
Less than a minute had passed, Joe ushering Tiffany into the driver's seat and encouraging her to try and start the car.
"Give it a little gas when you're turning the key." He said, bent over the enormous engine once more, monitoring for activity as he waited for the combustion to occur. "And make sure it's in neutral. I don't feel like getting run over either."
Turning the key, the car coughed and spluttered, the engine rattling as Tiffany gave the throttle some pressure, suddenly igniting and roaring into life as Tiffany revved the engine, plumes of black smoke ejected from the twin exhausts as the barn became engulfed in a thick smog.
"That oughtta do it." Joe yelled over the volume of the ravenous V8 engine as the machines coughs turned into a fierce growl, Tiffany removing her foot from the throttle and allowing the engine quieten down, coming to rest and levelling out instantly, purring beautifully as Joe threw his tools into his bag.
"It sounds amazing." Tiffany beamed as she climbed from the car, just as Joe dropped the hood, the latch instantly securing itself on beneath the huge sheet of metal. "How much does she owe you?"
"Don't worry about it." Joe waved his hands at the suggestion of money. "I was only here ten minutes. If Mr Thompson asks, I'll just tell him you'd got it started by the time I got here."
"Seriously?" Tiffany asked, surprised. "Is there anything else she could do for you?"
"Not really." Joe shrugged as he grabbed his bag from the floor. "But I guess you could maybe give me your phone number."
"My number?" Tiffany laughed.
"Just for if I need an extra pair of hands some time soon." Joe smiled, his face covered in black soot ejected from the exhausts just moments before, snapping to attention as Mrs Appleby's voice roared behind him, audible over the now smooth engine of the Plymouth.
"That won't be necessary." She spoke, her voice flat and without emotion as she entered the barn, coming to a stop between Joe and Tiffany.
"But Mrs Appleby..." Tiff started, cut down immediately as Mrs Appleby raised her voice, attention focused on Joe.
"I said that won't be necessary."
"Well uhh, I guess I'd better get going then." Joe sheepishly smiled, his eyes falling to the floor, as though just berated by an old school mistress.
"Thank you Mr Cox." Mrs Appleby's wrinkled face had turned lifeless as she followed Joe through the doors of the barn, calling after him as he crossed to the parking lot and climbed into his truck. "Tell Mr Thompson to send me a bill. I don't want to owe anybody anything!"
Kicking up the engine of the truck, Joe found first gear and gave it some gas, pulling away quickly as the truck lurched onto the road and headed back to the garage, Mrs Appleby now turning and finding the frame of Tiffany Valentine looming over her in shock.
"What the hell..." She started, gesturing with her arm in the direction of Joe, then quickly towards the now running car.
"You don't want to be associated with that man." Mrs Appleby calmly spoke.
"But..." Tiffany tried to get a word in, failing again.
"Nor any man." Mrs Appleby motioned with the flat of her hand in a cutting manner. "Best you just get your head down and do what I need you for."
"So I'm not allowed to be friends with men?" She spat.
"I told you last week." She turned, spitting back, tension kicked up a notch. "Rule number two I believe it was... No men!"
"But why?" Tiffany asked.
"Never you mind why." Mrs Appleby immediately retorted. "We'll have no more talk of men. Next thing I hear about it, you'll be sent back to that hell hole."
Standing in disbelief, Tiffany watched, heartbroken as Mrs Appleby shuffled from the barn and back into the store, the door slamming behind her as she entered the office and sat behind her desk, the silhouette of the old hag visible through the frosted glass. With nothing else left to say, Tiffany simply reached into the car and killed the engine, the calmness and serenity of the quiet June morning completely unnoticed as she dropped the keys into her pocket and very quietly said one word.
"Cunt!"
As lunch rolled around Tiffany looked from her seat behind the cash register and spied the clock hanging above the entrance to the store. Figuring now was as good a time as any, she gently rose from and crossed the floor, dodging between the parallel, shoulder height aisles of canned goods, beers and produce, reaching the door and flipping the sign in the window, the words 'Closed For Lunch' now visible to any potential customers as Tiffany slid the latch across and headed to the back of the store. The door nestled in the rear of the store sat open, the wedge jammed beneath propping it open as the summer breeze whistled through. As Tiffany approached she could see outside, the barn opposite the back of the store and across the dirt track still lying wide open as the sun shifted along the horizon, the shadow cast by the surrounding pine trees now covering the entrance. Turning and kicking the wooden wedge to the side, Tiffany pulled the door closed, twisting the key in the lock before turning and heading down the right hand side of the barn and towards the seemingly never-ending marathon of steps leading up to the monstrous house above. As the sun beat down, burning the skin on the back of Tiffany's neck, she took a deep breath and paused for a second to appreciate the various smells and sounds nature had to offer. A life spent among the crowds, centralised populations and multi-storey dwellings had stripped Tiffany's life of nature, something she had started to realise this last week as she sat, night after night, in the bedroom of Mrs Appleby's house and took in the view, the house standing tall and allowing Tiffany to survey the view over Mount Carroll with ease. As birds sang high up among the branches of the surrounding woodland, Tiffany continued to climb the steps, arriving at the front door of the house and letting herself in, the door closing quietly behind her. Heading through the hall of the huge house, Tiffany passed the foot of the stairs to her right and headed to the kitchen, the huge trunk locked and resting by the door as she entered. Tiffany had tried asking again about the contents, but straight answers seemed not to be Mrs Appleby's strong point. As she turned her attention to the far side of kitchen, Tiffany was hardly surprised to find Mrs Appleby, flustered as she rooted through the refrigerator, pots and pans resting along the counter top as she turned and found Tiffany in the doorway, a joyful look spread across her face.
"The hell are you so happy about?" She asked, Tiffany taking a few steps forward as she placed her arms behind her back and grinned.
"I've been thinking." She started.
"If it's about that Joe fella then forget it." Mrs Appleby turned her attention towards the refrigerator once more.
"You really don't like him do you?" Tiffany laughed, trying to let it go over her head.
"Let's just say I have good reason." Mrs Appleby muttered.
"Which is?" Tiffany pushed, sensing an answer impending.
"Look..." Mrs Appleby slammed the door of the refrigerator, turning to Tiffany as she gestured, palms outstretched, a pissed look upon her wrinkled face. "Let's just leave it. He's no good for you. Besides which you seemed pretty certain last week that men were the last thing you were interested in. I'm even beginning to wish you were a damned lesbian now."
"Fucks sake." Tiffany sighed, dropping her smile and allowing the frustration to show. Before she knew it Appleby was upon her, a stinging blow delivered to Tiffany's left ear as her hand arced through the air and landed with a 'slap'.
"What did I tell you about your language?" She spat as she turned and started across the kitchen, back to her rows of pots and pans. "We'll have some respect in this house!"
"Jesus!" Tiffany's hand flew up to her ear, the sting turning into a dull throb.
"That goes for blasphemy as well." Mrs Appleby turned and raised a finger.
"I only came up here to offer to help you out, you stupid old witch!" Tiffany found herself yelling, immediately regretting it as her free hand clamped automatically across her mouth.
"What did you call me?" Mrs Appleby spun again. Tiffany had seen too sides to the old goat since day one, but this was an additional dimension. A fierce, fired up demon suddenly set loose as she stared into Tiffany's eyes.
"I only came up to offer to help you." Tiffany removed her hand from her mouth and attempted to make the peace.
"Help me how?" Appleby backed down, curious.
"It just seems every day you do all the cooking, while I'm down in that store serving maybe one person an hour." Tiffany pleaded. "Which made me think."
"Go on." Appleby urged her to continue.
"I want to cook you a meal." Tiffany gushed. "As a thank you."
"For what?"
"Just for having me hear. I mean there are worse places right?" Tiffany laughed.
"I see." The old girl seemed taken aback at the request. "What were you wanting to cook?"
"I don't know." Tiffany seemed struck by confidence, not expecting to get this far, Mrs Appleby very protective of her recently refurbished kitchen. "I do good Swedish meatballs."
"Hmmm..." Mrs Appleby narrowed her eyes as the cogs began to rotate in her head. "Don't think I've ever tried those."
"Really?" Tiffany seemed surprised, enthusiastic, the chance to finally do something useful beckoning her on.
"Don't think I ever will either." Mrs Appleby spat, turning and opening a cupboard door, beginning to work her way through an assortment of cans and sachets. "Thank you for the offer Tiffany, but it's okay. I can't do much these days, cooking is one of the rare times I'm able to feel like my old self."
"Whatever." Tiffany murmured, turning to leave the kitchen, spinning straight into the face of Rita Hernandez, her olive skin glowing as the sunlight swept in through the kitchen windows, her sudden appearance causing Tiffany to jump a mile.
"Afternoon ladies." Rita smiled, Mrs Appleby craning her head back to see what the sudden commotion was.
"Rita." She began, shuffling across the tiled floor of the kitchen. "My dear girl, I'd completely forgotten you were calling in. That time of the week already?"
"Sure is." Rita gave Mrs Appleby a hug as she spoke. "You have Tiffany's time sheets?"
"Just give me one second." Mrs Appleby nodded. "They're in my study."
Slowly creaking along, heading towards the study as she left the kitchen, Tiffany found herself alone with Rita, sensing something amiss, the friendly tone and idle chit chat completely missing as Rita leaned against the kitchen counter and stood in silence, her eyes focusing anywhere and everywhere except Tiffany's vicinity as she pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table.
"At least the weather's changed." Tiffany awkwardly joked.
"I guess so." Rita replied, her tone void of any enthusiasm as she continued to scan the kitchen.
"Did you have a nice drive?" Tiffany tried once more, struggling to find a conversation starter.
"It's been a long day Tiffany." Rita suddenly focused on her. "It's only just gone lunch time and I've had to drive all the way out here for nothing but a hand full of time sheets."
"Yeah, that's gotta be a pain in the ass." Tiffany nodded, unsure how to follow up. "Sorry."
"It's not your fault." Rita sighed, the frosty atmosphere melting away slightly.
"Mrs Appleby's a little strange don't you think?" Tiffany whispered. "She can be okay, but this place isn't me at all. Are you sure I couldn't have something nearer the city?"
"Look Tiffany." Rita started. "You don't seem to understand that this is still part of your sentence. This whole thing is still the state punishing you, and if I were you I'd enjoy it while you can."
"Meaning what exactly?" Tiffany sat stunned at the words to leave Rita's mouth.
"Nothing." Rita crossed her arms and closed her eyes, deep in thought. "Just ignore me. I'm working on something pretty big for an old friend. I'm just a little stressed, that's all."
"Fair enough." Tiffany replied as she stood, not saying another word as she left the kitchen, almost crashing into Mrs Appleby as she headed to the stairs, the sanctuary of her room not able to come quick enough.
"What's gotten into her?" Mrs Appleby smiled, returning to the kitchen and handing the paperwork to Rita.
"I think she's feeling a little homesick." Rita smiled awkwardly.
"Missing prison?" Mrs Appleby seemed stunned.
"No, no, no..." Rita laughed. "The city. She's very out of her natural habitat in this town. She'll be okay though, just give her time."
"Well, if you're sure that's all it is." Mrs Appleby spoke with a concerned tone, Rita reaching out and rubbing the frail old woman's arm.
"She'll be fine." She replied. "Tell me. Has she been behaving herself?"
"Oh Rita, she's been an absolute angel." Mrs Appleby beamed as she answered, her sickly sweet voice soothing. "I seriously don't know what I'd do without her now she's here. I just wish I had her for longer than the eighteen months."
"Well I wouldn't get too attached." Rita exhaled as she spoke. "Statistics show that people like Tiffany, no matter how hard they try, usually revert to type and end up back inside."
"Oh I'm sure that won't be the case. Like I said, she'd been an absolute god-send this last week." Mrs Appleby smiled.
"Well that's good to hear." Rita stood upright, pushing herself from the kitchen counter as she spoke. "But don't let her take advantage of you, and remember to always carry your emergency alarm. I hate the thought of you being stuck out here with the girls I leave you with. No matter how many times we've been through this it doesn't get any easier. She was in prison for a reason, this 'nice' act is probably just hiding some hidden agenda."
"Oh Rita now give up." The old lady grabbed Rita's shoulder. "Seriously, the poor girl's been through a lot from what I can piece together. I honestly think it's her that should be more worried about me and my 'agenda' at times."
"Well I guess we'll see." Rita laughed, Mrs Appleby's words calming her slightly as she gave her a hug goodbye and set off back to her car, the descent from the top of the steps a lot easier than the climb upwards. As she reached the sedan, parked down the side of the barn, Rita yanked the car door open and felt the coldness creep across her shoulders, a shudder down the length of her spine as she threw her bag onto the passenger seat and spun to face the house, the sunlight to the south-west causing the windows to reflect the brilliant sunlight as she squinted her eyes, unable to make out whether or not she was indeed being watched. Tiffany no doubt sat in her room, calling her all the names her limited vocabulary would allow as she cursed Rita's attitude and definitely cursed the fact she was stuck in this dead end town for the following year and a half. Thinking now, Rita began to wish she'd made more of an effort. Not with Tiffany per se, but more in the way she handled the situation. True she found it incredibly hard to converse with, or even look at, Tiffany right now, and with every right as far as Rita was concerned. Several sickening thoughts clouded her attitude as she tried over the last seven days to fight the feeling, failing every time as she ended up back at square one, a sixth sense pushing her to find out more, even if it turned out to be nothing but a heightened sense of suspicion. Rita couldn't, in fact wouldn't, rest until she had at least investigated and either put an end to, or confirmed, these doubts once and for all. But as far as she was concerned, time was on her side. Tiffany had a schedule to stick to, reporting to the local sheriff's office as per the conditions of her probation, and Mrs Appleby would surely raise the alarm if anything untoward was to happen in the mean time. Now she thought about it, she felt more relaxed, willing to let the charade play out as long as it needed.
Tiffany Valentine was going nowhere.
As the sun set upon another glorious summer day, Rita Hernandez pulled the nose of her sedan into the parking lot of the four storey office block before her, twisting the key in the ignition and allowing the engine to die instantly. Throwing open her door, she quickly grabbed her bag and the assortment of files littering her passenger seat, before standing and catching the last rays of sunlight, the street lights surrounding the offices suddenly flickering into life as they prepared for another nights hard work, illuminating the sidewalks for various drunks, muggers and vagrants. Slamming the door to the sedan, Rita placed her key in the lock and gave it a jiggle, the satisfying 'click' indicating the car was now secure as she turned and headed to the office, the windows of the building before her mainly darkened as the majority of the work force finished whatever duties they had and headed home for the night. Entering the building, the door swung behind her and gently eased itself closed as Rita felt the chill of the air conditioning ducts above her, the corridor offering a cooler climate than the one she had been used to all day, racing from point A to point B as she made her routine checks on all cases assigned to her by the state of Illinois, some welcoming, some intimidating, but none as interesting as the case she had been assigned recently, Tiffany Valentine providing no end of sleepless nights for the past seven days. As she reached the end of the corridor and headed up the concrete staircase, Rita felt the ice cold metal of the rail as her hand automatically shot out and grabbed it for balance, reaching her floor in no time at all and heading into the vast office space before her, the rows of cubicles and desks assembled, sitting completely empty, the second floor entirely void of life. With a sigh, Rita dropped the files, the paperwork landing on the surface of her desk with a sickening thud as she allowed her body to drop into the chair before kicking off her heels and rubbing her feet, massaging the ball of her foot through her nylon pantyhose as she stretched her toes. It had been a long day, no mistake. As far as she was concerned, the files in front of her right now could wait until tomorrow, all promises of catching up and taking it easy the following day disappearing immediately as Rita surveyed the pile of paperwork now sat before her, suddenly noticing something strangely amiss. The inbox tray of her stacker occupied with a file of some sort, the brow, dated, file sitting within puzzling Rita for a second before her mind snapped into action and realised. Reaching out and grabbing the file, Rita tore it open, her eyes lighting up as she held it in her hands, her own personal holy grail as she devoured the front page in no time at all, the file giving all details of the unsolved murder of Chicago Police Departments recently deceased Officer Harry Marsh. Flicking through the pages, Rita sought out the relevant information, missing it at first, such was her enthusiasm, but eventually skipping back over the details and finding the date of Officer Marsh's murder.
'September 18th 1990'
Mind racing, Rita placed the open file across her lap and dived into the tower of files sitting on the desk, taking less than a minute to find the paperwork she needed, the file of one Tiffany Valentine. Flicking open her file, her eyes began to flit across the various details once more, steadier than before as she searched and searched, eventually stopping as she found the details of Tiffany's case, pupils dilating as she let the information sink in. Arrested for the attempted murder of one Evan Carter. The date of the event?
'September 18th 1990'
Mind galloping, Rita instinctively reached out, swinging her arm across her desk and sweeping the huge mountain of paperwork to the floor before carefully laying the respective files of Harry Marsh and Tiffany Valentine side by side. Flicking from one file to the other, Rita attempted to seek out any other 'coincidences', finding more than one as she scribbled frantically in her notepad, hand struggling to keep up with her brain as she began to smile, knowing she was onto something as the more she read, the more she realised the week of sleepless nights and nagging feelings were apparently not in vein. Just as Evan Carter had been stabbed in the midriff, the blade of Tiffany's peculiar shaped knife only just missing three vital organs, Officer Marsh had also been victim of a knife wound. Only Marsh's murder had apparently been multiple lacerations to the throat, the old man bleeding out in no time at all as whoever had committed the act made their getaway from the underpass near the 7/11. It was as she read details of the location of Marsh's murder, that Rita sensed another possible connection, reaching for her bag now sat beside her desk and yanking it open immediately, reaching inside and grabbing the street map from within. To somebody in Rita's profession, constantly driving, new places, old places, wherever she was sent, a street map had proven an invaluable thing over the last few years. Flipping the pages, her eyes looked on as the street names whizzed by, eventually coming to a stop as she found the street, the underpass, the scene of Harry's murder. Eyes returning to Tiffany's file, she absorbed information with very little effort, finding the scene of the Evan Carter incident and turning back to her street map, quickly locating the address given in Tiffany's file. Dropping the book to her desk, Rita had a little laugh as she shook her head and smiled. Officer Harry Marsh and Evan Carter had more in common than anybody else had noticed. Not only were they attacked on the same date, but according to the coroner's report in Marsh's file, they were attacked within an hour of each other and by a person wielding a knife. Now, as Rita stared at the two addresses given in her street map, she felt exhilarated as she noticed the two incidents were separated by a mere 20 minute walk. She was onto something here, and she knew it, reaching for the phone sat innocently at the edge of her desk and lifting the receiver. Dialling the same internal number as before, she sat and waited, the ringing seeming to go on and on as she patiently waited, all the while a voice inside her head screaming 'PICK UP', interrupted as the voice on the other line blared into life.
"It's me again." She said, giving the voice on the other end no time to offer a simple greeting.
"I figured as much." The voice answered sarcastically. "What is it now? You want me to head down archives and get the JFK file?"
"Be serious Will." Rita scolded her friend. "The Marsh file..."
"I dropped it up on your desk this afternoon." Will protested.
"I know." Rita hurriedly spoke. "I'm looking at it now, and there's something I'm working on. I don't want to tell you what, but I need another favour."
"Do you realise how busy we are down here?" Will asked.
"I know, and I really would appreciate this." Rita pleaded, the silence from the other end almost deafening to her. Eventually Will sighed.
"What do you need now?" He asked.
"I need you to search for any evidence from the scene. Anything at all. Anything you guys have, even if it's nothing much. I'm onto something here."
"The Marsh case?" Will asked, surprised. "Really?"
"Yes." Rita replied. "All I need is you to search for any evidence at all. No matter how big or small."
"From what I remember there wasn't much." Will answered her, his voice seeming bereft of any optimism.
"Please Will." Rita pleaded once more as silence again rained down the line.
"Let me see what I can do." Will said. "But we're kinda busy down here. I don't know how long it'll be before I can get back to you with whatever we have, which may be nothing."
"Thank you." Rita whispered, placing the receiver back in the cradle of her office phone. Sitting back, Rita closed the two files and reached down to her right hand side, pulling open the bottom drawer of her desk and lifting a tin of cookies, placing the two files underneath.
"I'll get her for you Harry." She whispered before standing from her desk and turning off the lights.
Tonight, Rita Hernandez was going to get some sleep.
Locking the front door of Appleby's store, Tiffany flicked the sign from 'Open' to 'Closed' and looked out into the darkness of the dusty parking lot. The heat had certainly picked up in the afternoon, Tiffany on the brink of passing out at one point as Mrs Appleby had her stacking the shelves and sweeping the floors. She'd only swept up earlier that morning, so the effort had been at a minimum when she had been asked, no 'told', to do it again later, Mrs Appleby once again sitting in her throne, barking orders from the back office. As she walked the length of the aisles and headed back toward the cash register, Tiffany was startled by a ringing sound coming from the back office. She'd not heard it ring in the first week she'd been there, so it had been a bit of a surprise for it to suddenly start ringing now, the high pitched noise reverberating around the wooden walls of the store and growing in volume all the more. Heading into the office and flicking on the light, Tiffany grabbed the receiver from the desk and spoke.
"Appleby's Store." She sarcastically spat, putting on her very best, sugar coated voice as she played with her hair.
"Tiffany?" The voice spoke, causing Tiffany to quit playacting and act seriously.
"Yes?" She asked.
"Hey, it's Joe." The voice cheerfully replied.
"Joe..." Tiffany cast her eyes to the heavens as she tried to recall the name.
"From this morning?" He laughed. "I got that old rust bucket started for old lady Appleby."
"Oh yeah." Tiffany laughed. "Sorry, it's just been a long day. The heat too."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Joe laughed again.
"What can I do for you sweetface?" Tiffany asked, playing with her hair again.
"Well, you probably got the red light from the dragon up in the castle, but I wondered if you fancied going out one night?" He asked, Tiffany could sense the anxiety in his voice.
"What do you mean 'got the red light'?" Tiffany asked.
"No doubt you've been told stay away from me." He replied. "Didn't you feel the tension after she came out to the barn?"
"I wouldn't be too worried." Tiffany started. "I'm sure I can work my magic on 'the dragon up in the castle'."
"You're kidding." Joe laughed. "So is that a yes?"
"Let me check my diary and I'll get back to you." Tiffany beamed. "Call again tomorrow and we'll arrange something."
"Sure thing." Joe laughed. "I'll call back tomorrow night."
"Speak soon." Tiffany teased as she replaced the phone, her lips curling into the most seductive smile as she crossed the floor of the office and hit the light switch, the small room descending into darkness at once. Mrs Appleby was going to be hard work. But Tiffany had a feeling she could talk her round, one way or another. It was just going to take one hell of a charm offensive.
Stood looking through the lounge window of the huge house, Mrs Appleby's eyes fell to the back of the store as the lights flickered into life, Tiffany's silhouette cast from the office window as the phone continued to ring, answered in no time at all as the noise suddenly ceased. Carefully picking up the phone by her side, Mrs Appleby kept quiet as she held the receiver firmly to her ear, the words exchanged between Tiffany and Joe causing outrage and anger as Mrs Appleby listened in, feeling her blood begin to boil, her warnings completely ignored as Tiffany actively encouraged Joe, her tone teasing as her high pitched voice echoed down the line. She had hoped that Tiffany would put this fleeting moment of lust behind her, realise what a stupid move she would be making, as Mrs Appleby threatened to have her taken away, thrown back to the wolves of Logan Correctional Centre if she pursued a relationship with that man.
Not just that man either.
Any man at all.
Of course Mrs Appleby had been bluffing as she'd made these threats. That was the thing that angered her most, the fact that her one and only method of keeping Tiffany in line had gone completely unheeded. But no... It appeared that she would have to let Tiffany have her fun. Hope the poor girl got it out of her system. Because in all honesty, the very last thing she wanted was for Tiffany to be taken from her.
That wouldn't benefit her in the long run.
Not one bit.