Buried [Completed]

Chapter thirty-three

When Charlotte woke up the next morning, Dougal was sleeping beside her. One moment she was smiling and reaching for him, the next she felt as if she'd been punched in the heart. Daisy was dead. While the morning sun teased its way into her bedroom window, Charlotte went over the events of the previous day, recalling Dougal striding into the library and demanding her to close early. 

Once they were alone, he told her what he'd uncovered in Aunt Shirley's vegetable garden. She supposed she'd been in shock. She refused to believe him. Then she'd insisted he take her there, to the librarian cottage, so she could see for herself. By then half the staff from the Sheriff's Office, as well as several paramedics, were on the scene. She'd been allowed a brief look at Daisy's watch— to confirm Dougal's identification, but not the remains. After that, she'd felt frantically upset and the paramedics had given her something to calm her down. 

Later, Dougal had brought her here. He'd been so kind and gentle with her. Which made her wonder if there was more hope for this relationship than she'd thought. She gazed at his face, relaxed and unguarded in sleep. Some would say he was too callous for a hero. Too rough around the edges. But he had redeeming features. His unrelenting pursuit of the truth being the main one. His eyes opened. He blinked, then touched her cheek softly, so very gently. 

"How are you doing?" 

"I feel weird. When my parents died, the grief was all encompassing. But this is different. I'm very sad. But also, strangely relieved. Ever since she left, a part of me was always wondering where she was, whether she was okay, or hurting and in need of help." She sighed. "Now I know. And at least her suffering wasn't long." 

"I heard them talking. Sounds like she died instantly from a blow to the head." 

"Who do they think did it?" 

"What do you think?" 

She hesitated. "I'd say Kyle. But I'm surprised. I never liked him much. But I didn't see him as a murderer." 

"The guy is a monster. Making cash withdrawals for all these years. Pretending that Daisy was still alive. Holding out hope to all those who loved her." 

"I wish we'd been closer. Maybe then, I would have been able to support her better after the twins were born. But no one in our family had even heard of post-partum psychosis before." 

"It's hard not to have regrets. Maybe if I'd told Daisy Kyle was having sex with other women, she wouldn't have made the mistake of marrying him." 

"I'm not so sure. We all have a way of seeing what we want to see. Especially when it comes to love." 

"Speaking of love..." Dougal paused to kiss her gently. "I was thinking of going back to New York and packing up my stuff. Making a permanent move. What do you think?" 

She smiled and put her arms around him. "I'll show you." 

* * * 

The New York apartment smelled stale when Dougal arrived three days later. He'd taken a taxi straight from the airport and was looking forward to seeing his cat. He'd missed the persnickety feline. 

He dropped off his duffel bag in his foyer before heading to 5C to get Borden. He knew his cat would be annoyed. Just wait until she found out he was moving her from a city apartment to a cottage in the Oregon forest. He rapped on the door of 5C several times, but there was no response. Dougal hadn't called ahead to give the old guy any warning, but he hadn't expected there to be a problem. Monty's social calendar was normally pretty blank. He tried a fourth knock, waited an extra minute, then went in search of the super. 

"I can't let you into another tenant's apartment," the crabby old woman told him. 

"But he has my cat, was looking after him while I was away. Besides, Monty almost never goes out. He even has his groceries delivered. For all we know he could be dead in there. What do you want to do— leave him there until he starts to decompose and stink up the hallway?" 

He'd been trying to scare her, but he ended up frightening himself as an unwanted image of his cat, alone with a dead body, came to mind. His tactic worked. The super snagged her key ring. 

"Let's take a look." She was only about thirty pounds overweight, but it was all in her ass. He did his best not to look as he followed her up the stairs. The super knocked loudly on 5C. 

"Mr. Monroe?" 

She knocked again, and when there was still no response, pulled out her key. Borden was waiting at the door and scooted out as soon as it had opened three inches. Dougal scooped her up. She felt thinner to him and didn't smell that great. She gave him a talking to, making it clear what she thought of his absence the past three weeks. 

"I know, I know, I'm a jerk." 

He scratched her neck, then the sides of her face. She jammed her head into his palm, like a love-starved... cat. Still petting her, he followed the super inside, stopping short in the foyer. The place looked tidy and clean, but lifeless. The shades were drawn, so Dougal switched on a light. 

"Monty Monroe is definitely not in here," the super said. "I've checked the bathroom and bedroom." 

Dougal went to the spot where he'd left Borden's litter box. Instead of one, there were now four litter boxes. Only two had a few soiled spots in them. In the kitchen he found several bowls full of dried cat food. And a large basin of water. 

"I have a feeling your tenant has moved out." 

"What— and left all his stuff?" 

"Do you see anything personal? A computer, or laptop? Mail or personal papers of any kind?" 

The super made a second round of the place. He heard her opening a few drawers. After ten minutes she said, "You're right. He's gone, the bastard. Didn't even give notice." 

At least he'd left Borden with supplies to last her a week or two. Dougal wondered if Monty would have eventually called him, to let him know he'd taken off. 

"He was a strange bird," Dougal said. "Wonder why he decided to take off like this..." 

"I could care less, why," the super grumbled. "Now I've got to store this junk in case he comes back, and get the place ready for a new tenant." 

"Make that two tenants," Dougal said. "I'm giving my notice today, too." 

* * * 

Dougal cleaned all the cat paraphernalia from Monty's apartment, throwing most of it into the garbage. Made more sense to buy new supplies in Twisted Cedars, then to try and pack this shit for the airplane. Borden was thrilled to be back in her own apartment. She spent an hour exploring every nook and cranny before settling down for a nap in a patch of sunlight on the couch. 

Meanwhile Dougal was busy, arranging to have some of his belongings trucked to Oregon, the rest donated to charity. He packed up his clothes, books and important papers, glad that he, like his mother, had never been one to accumulate much in the way of material possessions. He was planning to sleep over tonight, then take the plane back to Portland tomorrow. 

He wondered how Borden was going to cope with being jailed in her cat carrier for most of the day. He should at least line the thing with a clean towel, the old one at the bottom of the carrier was smelling rank. As he made the switch he noticed a piece of paper tucked into the carrier. An envelope, with his name on the front. He stared at it for a long moment, his gut churning with a premonition that this wasn't going to be good. Finally he pulled out the single sheet of paper within. On it was written: 

Well done, son. Now write the book. 

THE END