Murder by Medium

Chapter 5-End of a Matriarch

—-——End of a Matriarch—-——

Rowan walked through the familiar neighbourhood, every shadow seeming to swallow him whole as he made his way to the Rivers residence. The night air was sharp, biting at his skin, but it was nothing compared to the chill of dread that settled in his chest as he thought of what lay ahead.

He had known Agnes Rivers longer than some—long enough to remember when her laughter echoed through her home like a gentle melody, wrapping around the souls of those who visited. But now, he was an intruder, lured into a scheme that twisted kindness into something sinister.

As he approached the stately home, bathed in the soft glow of porch lights, he applied the mental checklist Phaedra had laid out. He needed to weave himself into their lives, to become someone they could rely on. Rowan paused at the steps, his hand hovering over the doorbell. What was he doing?

Before he could rethink it further, he pressed the button, sending a chime resonating through the Rivers household. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing one of Agnes's grandchildren, a teenager named Eva, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Rowan! What brings you here?" she asked, her enthusiasm palpable. Eva was bright, a spark of energy in the Rivers family. Rowan swallowed hard, forcing a smile despite the anxiety gnawing at his stomach.

"I was in the neighbourhood and thought I'd drop by... see if you all needed anything?" He kept his tone casual, friendly. "I know how busy things can get around here."

Eva's face lit up. "Oh, that would be great! Grandma's been feeling under the weather lately, and Mom is trying to keep up with her work, too. I think she could use some help with groceries or maybe picking up her prescriptions."

Rowan nodded, feeling a strange mixture of relief and apprehension. "Of course. I'm happy to help out with anything you all need."

"You're a lifesaver!" Eva beamed, her appreciation genuine. "Come on in; I can grab you the list."

Stepping inside the warm, inviting home, Rowan's heart raced faster knowing he was anything but a 'lifesaver'. The walls were adorned with family portraits, memories preserved in frames — Agnes smiling brightly at birthdays and holidays. Each photo was a testament to a life well-lived, and here he was, plotting to unravel the very fabric of that legacy.

As Eva disappeared into the kitchen, Rowan glanced around, taking in the aura of the house. He relished the sights and scents — homemade pie cooling on the counter, the faint smell of lavender from a nearby candle. Every detail was a dagger to his conscience, reminding him of the warmth he was about to extinguish.

"Rowan!" Eva called, breaking him free from his inner turmoil. She returned with a notepad cradled in her hands. "Here's Grandma's shopping list. Thank you again!"

"Not a problem," he replied, his voice steady, though it felt like a facade. He took the list, his fingers brushing against hers briefly before retreating. "I'll head out soon. Is there anything else I can do while I'm here?"

Eva hesitated, her brow furrowing. "Well, I know Grandma loves her favorite tea, but we just ran out of it. It makes her feel better when she sips it. If you have the time, could you grab that too?"

"Absolutely."

As she turned to walk away, Rowan seized the moment. "Is there anywhere special she used to get it?" he asked innocently.

Eva's eyes lit up with nostalgia. "There's a little shop downtown, an old family friend runs it. She always says it has the best selection. I can text you the address if you want."

Perhaps there was a sliver of redemption in this—a way to help without being fully corrupted by the darkness he had agreed to. Rowan smiled, his thoughts racing as he nodded. "That would be perfect." A perfect scapegoat should anything be discovered, just a mistake with the tea. Just a mistake with the tea. He felt the knot tightening in his chest loosen slightly.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to fill his lungs. The entanglement of joy and sorrow danced around him as he retrieved his phone to message the address to Eva. The weight of their trust felt heavy but also exhilarating.

The following days passed in a blur. Rowan integrated himself into the Rivers family life, running errands, helping with chores, and even joining them for family dinners. He shadowed Agnes, listened to her stories and took note of her interactions with those she loved. How she always called Eva her bright 'honeybee', how whenever it rained she'd say 'better contact the shelter-it's raining cats and dogs, and how her rickety laugh held so much warmth.

Rowan watched Agnes comfort her daughter stressed with work and her Grandson Eric worrying over grades with the same phrase "Remember, my dear, it's just a bump in the road; you'll always find your way through." She was a woman of grace, but there were cracks in her facade — moments of forgetfulness, hints of pain hidden behind smiles that troubled him deeply.

Phaedra remained a ghostly spectre in the back of his mind, urging him onward. During one late-night conversation, she had shared her own loss fully to him, recounting how she had been left behind and why she felt justified in her actions. He had listened, entranced by her fervor. It terrified him how easily he had begun to mimic her thoughts and how Cillian felt so far away.

"Soon," she urged him in a hushed tone during one of their clandestine meetings. "We need to orchestrate the perfect moment. Watch for Agnes's health, but don't wait too long. The loss will be more palpable if it comes as a shock."

The very idea sickened him, yet he felt ensnared in a web of obligation, unable to pull free. Each evening spent with the Rivers family chipped away at his sense of morality and integrity. Were they just pawns in a twisted game? Or, worse yet, was he merely a puppeteer casting shadows on their lives?

As Rowan meticulously scouted for signs of Agnes's deteriorating health, a moment arrived on an unassuming Tuesday. Agnes was out of tea. An hour after he left Eva called him her voice, panic-stricken. "Rowan! You need to come! Grandma fell... she won't wake up!"

A jolt of adrenaline surged through him; Rowan's heart pounded as he ended the call and sprinted toward the familiar home. The shadows of impending loss loomed closer, and as he entered the house, he felt the palpable weight of dread suffocate the air.

He found Agnes lying on the floor, frail and motionless below her worn armchair, her family gathered around, their expressions transforming from shock to despair. Agnes looked almost peaceful he thought. Phaedra's voice echoed in his head. This was what she wanted, what they had orchestrated— the right moment to exploit grief. Yet here he was, breathless and frantic. He knelt beside Eva, who was already howling for her grandmother, her voice breaking along with Rowan's heart.

As the paramedics arrived, the air filling with urgency and fear, he felt the weight of his actions loom over him. He looked at Eva, the anguish in her eyes cutting deep. This is what he had signed up for— to take from them the very heart that kept them alive.

In that moment, all the calculated plans and the twisted glamour of darkness faded to nothing. A realization struck him with stark clarity. This was not a game. Life was not artifice woven for amusement; it was raw, messy, irrevocable.

The spectre of Agnes lingered, not as a target for manipulation but as a symbol of love. He could not, would not, go through with this. And with that resolve, Rowan took a deep breath, steeling himself for a confrontation he knew he had to have, even if it cost him everything.

A day later, it was official Agnes was dead. Of old age.

5 Days later Rowan recommended Phaedra's services to Eva.

She accepted.