Neighborhood Watch Read online

  “Huh. ‘Spose you’re right, Doc.” Yet he didn’t properly register her last speech. Something she had said earlier unsettled him, something just out of reach.

  “Of course, I’m right.” She laughed as she tore the top page off her prescription pad. “The doctor’s always right.”

  Derek left, still bothered. What was it she’d said that had unhinged him so?

  The elevator speaker warbled out bland nostalgia music, good times past such a wonderful thing. Another reminder of his age catching up to him.

  Then it struck him. So obvious.

  He had never told Dr. Farraday he was a wild partier when he’d first moved into his neighborhood. Or had he?

  The uncertainty troubled him more than the question.

  * * * *

  Not expecting to come away from his meeting with Dr. Farraday so rattled, Derek settled into his hybrid and breathed deeply. Gripping the wheel, he squeezed his anchor to reality. He accepted he had had issues in the past; no denial there. Yet he didn’t know what to believe now. Something definitely isn’t right over on Pawnee Lane. Facts don’t lie. But could his mind be distorting the facts, presenting them in a skewed manner?

  Dr. Farraday had given him a clean bill of mental health for the most part. So why didn’t he feel better about his state of mind? Sitting in her office had brought back unpleasant memories of his bouts with paranoia. Sometimes he truly believed he had been delusional, other times he thought his co-workers were out to bring him down. The truth of the matter probably rested somewhere between the two extremes. Try and explain that to your therapist and wife. But these old feelings of paranoia disturbed him more than dead squirrels nailed to trees and vile neighbors. He didn’t want to return to his past despair, yet he felt drawn in, the noose tightening. Bad things are happening, and he felt helpless to do anything about them.

  He stared at the prescription. Crumpling it up, he tossed it into the glove box. No need.

  To shake off his visit with Dr. Farraday, he knew where to find the cure.

  He knocked gently on the door of Room 422.

  “Come in,” said Katherine, her voice calm.

  Derek smiled upon seeing her. He’d allowed a woman of science—as nebulous as the science of psychiatry can be—to bring him down. Now he expected a woman whose beliefs soared far beyond explainable phenomena to brighten his day. The Yin and Yang of his world these days. “Hi, Katherine. You’re looking well.”

  This time Katherine had her full body armor of makeup on. Her cheeks were a startling red, her eyelids shockingly blue. If it hadn’t been for her robe, she appeared ready to go out on the town. “Derek, pull up a chair and pop a squat.”

  Derek chuckled and obeyed. “Katherine, I’m sorry about our last visit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Pshaw! You didn’t do nothin’ to upset me. Takes more than that to get me goin’. In fact, I haven’t slept better in months. Even with all the damn bingin’ and dingin’ goin’ on out in the hallways at night.”

  “You do look rested.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you getting better sleep because of the care they’re providing you?”

  “You kiddin’ me? These nurses couldn’t nurse their way offa’ their momma’s teat!”

  Derek laughed. “Yeah, you’re feelin’ better.”

  “I never felt bad.” A cloud of darkness shoved her sunny demeanor away. “I was just worried for my life. That’s why I’m sleepin’ better. I’m not over there on Pawnee Lane any longer with all those…those…feh!” She dismissed the new neighbors with a hand motion. Derek wished he could banish them so easily. “So, tell me. What’s new on the block?”

  As he told the story of the dead squirrel, Katherine’s eyes grew wide.

  “Katherine, what is it?”

  “I told ya’ those neighbors ain’t right. I told ya’ so.” She pointed her finger at Derek like a fully vindicated parent. “You believe me now, don’t ya?”

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  “I ‘spect that squirrel was a sacrifice of some sorts.”

  “A sacrifice?”

  “Dunno, really. I said it’s what I ‘spect. You know, Derek, they want your house. The spiritual nature of the neighborhood seems to center around your house.”

  “I, um, think I might’ve learned something about the history of the house.” He related what Edgington had told him.

  “Wait a minute.” She rubbed a finger over her top lip. “This Dr. Edgington. Skinny kid, bald, goofier than all get out?”

  While he would’ve never pegged Edgington as a kid, Derek nodded.

  “That kid’s crazier than a priest in a whorehouse. He came out to my house once wanting to see if I’d sell him the place. Then he starts lookin’ around, inquirin’ about the past, and what have ya. Derek, if I were you, I’d take what he has to say with a grain of salt. He’s nothin’ but a pampered momma’s boy still livin’ at home without gainful employment. He’s no doctor of nothin’.”

  “Yeah, I kinda gathered that.” But Derek couldn’t understand why Katherine dismissed Edgington’s story out-of-hand. Edgington’s tree added credence to Katherine’s tale of Pawnee Lane being a spiritual nexus.

  “The very idea.” She coughed wetly into her hand and continued. “What you found out about your house, though? That’s the God’s honest truth. First one in the neighborhood, everything else came after. That’s probably why the energies all focus around your house. And it was built on Native American ground.” She swept her arm majestically through the room. “But then again, pretty damn much the whole country was.”

  “Katherine, I know I’ve asked you this before, but really? How did you find out about Toni and me getting married?”

  She gave him a wry look. “You kids kept that secret locked up tighter than Fort Knox. It wasn’t easy. Let me ask you this. How do you think I found out?”

  “I really haven’t a clue.”

  “Why, from Herbert, of course!” She swatted his arm. “Don’t be so foolish.” As long as Katherine held onto her ghostly beliefs, Derek resigned himself to never finding out who her source was. But if she found comfort believing she could communicate with her dead husband, who was he to take that away from her? Better to leave some things alone.

  He steered the conversation into more earthly territory. “Katherine, did you know Wilma? Wilma Spencer?”

  Katherine stretched her mouth into a thin, hard line. “Yeah, I knew Wilma. What about her?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve just been researching, trying to find out everything I can about the house.”

  “Well, Wilma was a sweet, dear friend. Such a tragedy what happened to her. Such a tragedy.” Katherine rolled her head across her pillow. “And for her daughter to’ve found her like that? My goodness! Can you imagine?”

  “No. I guess I can’t.”

  “For a week, she lay down there, poor thing. Starvin’ to death. She must’ve been hollerin’ for all her worth, and no one...no one called on her for a week.” She stared at Derek, tears streaking makeup down her cheeks. “If only I’d thought to look in on her. But I didn’t. I’d just assumed she wasn’t home. She went on lotsa’ little small trips with her kids, or to see her grandkids. I just took it for granted...”

  “Katherine, it’s not your fault. You didn’t know—”

  “But I should’ve, Derek. I should’ve! I wasn’t a very good neighbor.”

  “Katherine, you’re the best neighbor anyone could hope to have.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, but…” She dabbed at her tears with the top bed sheet. “Look at me, blubberin’ like a schoolgirl. You must think I’m bonkers.” Derek didn’t comment. He was in no position to cast judgment on mental stability.

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore, Katherine.”

  “Well, you believe this, boy-o. Not everything’s as it seems. You gotta be careful who you trust on that street. Trust in yourself and trust in what you see and believe. Th
ere’re some bad things comin’, and like it or not, you and that pretty wife of yours are gonna be central to it all!”

  “Can’t you tell me anything specific?”

  “No, not really. Sorry. I just know those neighbors are trouble. They took George and Dot, and now they’re ready to clean out everyone but themselves.”

  “How do you know this? Wait. Herbert, of course.”

  She nodded firmly and beamed. “Herbert. He didn’t give me any details. I don’t know any more. If I did, I’d sure tell you.”

  “I know you would. Listen I’ve got to get going. Toni’ll be home in an hour, and I haven’t started dinner yet.”

  “Such a good husband you are.”

  Derek rolled his eyes. “Well, I try to be. Thanks, Katherine.”

  “You’d best skedaddle, then. I’m expecting another visitor tonight.” Her eyes lit up.

  “Let me guess. Herbert?”

  “No, silly, my boy, Kevin.” She smacked his arm before she turned forlorn. “Herbert hasn’t visited in a while. And he sure can’t visit here. Only at home.”

  Not wanting to leave her on a down note, Derek planted a kiss on her cheek. “Well, I’m sure he’s watching over you. ‘Night, Katherine.”

  On his way out, Derek walked by the visitor’s lounge. He missed the woman dressed in a red hoodie swivel on her heels. Facing the window until Derek left, she crossed her arms over her chest and smiled.

  Chapter Six

  “Well, how did it go?” Toni sat at the dining room table while Derek focused his attention on chopping onions, hoping not to lop off a finger. And because he didn’t want to talk about it.

  “She says I’m not psycho.” Derek raised his eyebrows, bugged his eyes, and stabbed the air several times with the knife.

  “Cute.”

  “Thanks.” He sat next to Toni. “She thinks I’m fine. Maybe suffering from a little mid-life crisis.”

  Toni chuckled. “Oh, really?”

  “That’s what she said. Notice she said ‘mid-life.’”

  “Yes, dear. What else?”

  “She doesn’t think I’m paranoid, and really, that was about it, Ton. Wasn’t a whole lot to it.”

  “Hm. Did she give you anything?”

  “Yeah, she prescribed a small dosage antidepressant. But she says I may not need it for long. If at all.”

  “Why don’t you let her decide?”

  “Okay. But don’t you think I know myself better than anyone?”

  “Have you filled the scrip yet?”

  “No. But I will.”

  She shot him a glare. “Derek…”

  “I will. Really, I will.”

  “Why is it you men can be so damned…” She strangled the air and groaned.

  Derek laughed. “Oh, and you women are so easy to get along with? Right. Even mindreading can’t begin to decipher the mysteries going on in women’s heads.”

  “Seriously, I don’t know why you’re so damned stubborn about doing anything to help yourself. Just don’t let this fall by the wayside.”

  “I won’t. I promise.”

  “I know you don’t want to deal with this. But really, after yesterday, I think you owe the neighbors an apology.”

  Derek blinked at her. He heard what she said, but it made no sense. “What?”

  “You owe the neighbors an apology.” Toni kept her gaze glued on him.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me. Toni, they nailed a dead squirrel to our tree and then lied about it!”

  “Oh my God. I thought Dr. Farraday said you were—”

  “She did. This has nothing to do with paranoia. I’m not making this up.”

  “Derek…”

  “Toni, I’m asking you to believe me. To trust me. Is that too much to ask? After ten years of marriage?” As soon as Toni’s eyes brimmed with tears, he lowered his voice. “I’m sorry. But what can I do to make you believe me?”

  “I do believe you. I do trust you, but…” Derek knew when she interjected a “but,” it usually obliterated everything prior to it. “You’re getting freaked out over what may be nothing more than coincidences. We don’t know anything for sure. You’re jumping to conclusions. I’m just…” She paused.

  “What?”

  “I’m afraid for you. For us.”

  “Honey, you don’t need to worry about us. We’re golden.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  She turned away, her head bobbing. Toni hated for anyone to see her cry, including Derek, a frustrating yet strong conceit of hers. “I know we are,” she said quietly. “But you’re asking me to trust you. I’m asking you one thing. You need to apologize to the neighbor.”

  Discussion over. Stalemate. Toni wouldn’t budge and neither would Derek. He’d have to wave the white flag and give in. As much as he’d hate doing it.

  “Okay, Toni. I’ll apologize.”

  * * * *

  All night Derek watched the neighbor’s house through the window. As usual, Carl and his two male cronies were gathered around Carl’s van. With the hood up, they endlessly pondered the wonders of the engine. Occasionally, Kendra joined them before making a hasty retreat back inside.

  Derek waited another thirty minutes, not wanting to walk into an ambush again. Once the sun went down, the neighbors followed. Finally alone, Carl had his head buried underneath the hood.

  Now or never. Braving himself, Derek swallowed his humility and walked across the street.

  “Um, hey, Carl?” Carl popped his head up, smirking. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Free country, I guess.”

  “Hey, look, I wanted to…apologize for yesterday. I think, maybe, I was out of line.”

  “Out of line for what?” Carl’s voice growled, emanating deep within his chest like a tricked-out car engine. Derek knew he had no intention of making this easy for him.

  “For accusing you of, you know,” Derek gestured toward the big oak tree. “For accusing you of nailing the dead squirrel to my tree.”

  Carl narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, that was kinda crazy. Why would you say something like that anyway?”

  Derek issued a fake chuckle, hoping to find middle ground in his own self-failings. Carl remained stolid. “I don’t know. I guess it sorta freaked me out. Maybe I didn’t take my meds or something.” Derek immediately regretted his attempt at humor.

  “Your meds? You have some mental issues or something?”

  “No, no, nothing like that. I just—”

  “Then why’d you say you didn’t take your meds?” Carl ran his tongue over his lips. “Something we need to know about you? You dangerous?”

  “No, nothing like that! I was just joking. I—”

  Gritting his teeth, Carl inhaled, making a wet sucking sound. “I don’t know. Mental illness is nothin’ to make fun of.”

  “I just wanted to apologize. Maybe—maybe—I was wrong about you. And the squirrel.”

  Carl turned toward his house and bellowed, “Hey, Kendra. Kendra!”

  The door swung open. Kendra stood framed in the doorway. Her mouth pulled into a razor sharp grin that could cut through wood.

  “The neighbor here…” Carl jutted a thick thumb toward Derek.

  “My name’s Derek.”

  “The neighbor wants to apologize for saying we put a dead squirrel on his tree.”

  It was one word, the only word Derek had heard her utter, but it chilled him to the bone. “Well?” Her voice spread out like ice on a highway, cold and dangerous. She stared at him, her cat-like eyes glowering.

  “I’m sorry I accused you guys of putting the squirrel on my tree.” Derek swallowed, embarrassed by the dry click. “I must’ve been mistaken.”

  Kendra turned and closed the door.

  Derek stuck his hand out. Carl stared at it quizzically. Pantomiming comical enlightenment, he mouthed “oh,” then shrugged. “Sorry, neighbor, hands are dirty.” He showed Derek his obviously clean hands, first fronts then backs.

  “
Okay. Well, I’m sorry.”

  Derek had almost made it inside before his neighbor’s voice boomed out across their yards. “Be sure and stop by again!”

  * * * *

  “Happy now?” In the midst of a hissy-fit, Derek stumbled out of his clothes and tossed them into the hamper.

  Toni lowered her book. “Oh, ecstatic, dear.” She grinned, diluting his bad mood.

  “Oh, really? Care to show me how ecstatic I’ve made you?” Derek crawled into bed.

  “We’ll see.” She closed her book. “Were they really that cold to your apology?”

  “Yep.” Derek wanted to add, “I told you so,” but thought better of it.

  “And you finally heard that…woman say something?”

  “Yeah, can you believe it? It’s alive!”

  Toni giggled. “Wow. Then she just walked back in the house?”

  “Yeah. Look, Ton, I know you think I’m freaking out over these guys, but they suck. Maybe they’re not totally evil and nailing dead animals to our property, but their behavior…it’s just not normal.”

  “You’re right.”

  Derek smiled at her. Those two words wielded power. He felt her unwavering faith in him for the first time in a while. He kissed her and turned out the lights.

  Chapter Seven

  Patch clawed at the bay window and barked.

  “Patch, damn it. Shut up, Patch! Quit it.” As usual Derek’s words were ineffective. He peered out the window, wondering what the neighbors were up to now.

  A small wisp of a man walked in circles around the giant oak tree in Derek’s front yard. He looked strangely misplaced outdoors in his ill-fitting suit, someone you would be more apt to find behind a bank clerk’s desk. Stopping in front of the tree, his hand lightly rode across the bark, caressing it with a lover’s touch.

  Derek whipped the front door open, slamming it shut before Patch could race toward the intruder. The man fell back, startled. “Can I help you?” Derek’s voice rang through with hostility, still on edge from the encounter with his neighbors.

  “Oh, um, hi. Mr. Winton, I presume?” He extended his hand, his sleeve crawling up his arm.