Page 38 of Say Yes to the Death

“Can you think of anyone who would do something like this? Maybe as a practical joke?” the detective asked, nub of a pencil poised above a miniature spiral-bound notebook.

“Wendy Flutter is suing me,” Claire said wearily, resting her head in her hand. She had collapsed into a chair at her dining room table, an untouched glass of water next to her.

Detective Smith’s eyebrows knit together, and he glanced again at the note.

“It doesn’t look like her handwriting,” she admitted. Wendy had a looping, flowing script and dotted her I’s with hearts. The intruder on the video didn’t look like her either. If it was Wendy, the figure surely would have been wearing a designer catsuit and ski mask. “She could have written it with her nondominant hand, I guess. It doesn’t look like Barney’s handwriting either, for what it’s worth.”

“We’ll get this to a handwriting expert,” the detective said, sliding the paper and envelope carefully into an evidence bag.

Great, a handwriting expert. That would surely result in all kinds of leads.

“I can’t believe it’s happening again,” she said to Sawyer as the cops reviewed the footage from the security system, which Claire had downloaded and emailed to Detective Smith.

Sawyer laid a hand on her shoulder. “Nothing is going to happen to you. It’s probably just some copycat asshole playing a joke.”

“An asshole who knows where I live?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah.” He didn’t sound convinced. “I’m going to go re-calibrate your motion sensors again,” he said, sliding his chair back from the table and disappearing down the hallway.

Claire’s phone buzzed in her hand. She turned it over, expecting more empty apologies from Luke, and instead found a series of texts from her downstairs neighbor, Kara, and her mother. She opened the text from Kara first.

Kara: Is there a herd of elephants in your apartment or are you having extremely passionate sex that’s measurable on the Richter scale? My chandelier is swaying.

Claire smiled in spite of the circumstances. Kara had moved in the month before, and she and Claire had instantly bonded over their love of dogs. Kara had an Australian shepherd named Sammy, who tried to herd Rosie at their first meeting.

Claire: Rosie has taken up CrossFit.

By some miracle, Kara had no idea who Claire was, or at least pretended not to. It was nice having an acquaintance who didn’t walk on eggshells around her.

She switched to the message from her mother. Should she tell her about the note?

Alice: Are you okay, Clairebear? I’m sitting on the tarmac and I felt a disturbance.

Suddenly, her front door banged open. All three cops whirled with blinding speed and pointed their guns at the intruder. Claire kicked her chair behind her and dove under the dining room table, slamming her elbow off a leg as she went down. She flipped onto her back and ripped away the duct tape securing the aluminum baseball bat to the underside of the table.

“Hands in the air,” Detective Smith barked.

“Get down now,” the female cop closest to the door yelled.

“Shit,” the visitor said.

Were those worn high-top sneakers? She would have recognized them anywhere.

Luke dropped to his knees and raised his hands.

“It’s okay,” Claire said to Detective Smith as she crawled halfway out from under the table, still clutching the bat. “It’s just my… Luke.”

“Is this your first visit to the apartment tonight?” Detective Smith apparently recognized Luke from the hospital, because he didn’t bother asking for identification.

“Yes. I got a text from Sawyer that said there was another break-in.” Luke’s eyes zeroed in on Claire’s makeshift oven mitt bandage.

“Where were you between the hours of 6:30 and 8:00 p.m.?” Detective Smith continued.

“I was at home.”

“Can anyone corroborate that?”

“I have a security system that records when I leave the house,” Luke offered.

---