Death Around Sandy
Jill Evans for Kennebec7 (#3)
When he returns Ty will find this latest development quite fascinating. Maybe not as fascinating as his current mysterious jaunt with Lakshmi and the gypsies through the 900 islands that comprise the Mergui Archipelago. But I had a scene worth reviewing.
I expect him back by tomorrow night, if I got correctly what I suspect was a sort of extrasensory message from Ty through the lips of a chubby, somewhat inebriated Thai tourist who bought Heidi and me drinks at The Last Fisherman bar on Ao Nang Beach.
“Two days,” the man had said, looking me clearly in the eyes, momentarily devoid of a drunken haze.
What happened soon afterward was definitely bizarre, although throughout what seemed sometimes like a casual coincidence, outwardly harmless, I was bristling with a sense of danger.
It was Sandy Barrett that Heidi saw on the beach. It was night. After ten. Heidi and I were strolling and chatting about Miranda, when there he was coming toward us. Sandy Barrett, 24, Miranda’s nephew and a person of interest to Ty – not only about Seng, the ex-policeman who had been tailing Sandy, but also about Miranda’s death, which Ty and I were theorizing was not accidental, nor suicidal.
“Wellll, hellooo, cousin,” Sandy grinned as he recognized Heidi in the moonlight. “Here we all are. Cousin, cousine, huh? A moonlight stroll in southern Thailand. Almost romantic, huh? But I’m alone. And you’re not.”
“The world is too small, Sandy,” Heidi said icily.
“Don’t be a crank, Heidi. This is a happy coincidence. We’re family.”
I hadn’t experienced many happy coincidences in my life. I took a quick glance behind us. I had the feeling that it wasn’t a coincidence at all. Earlier I had noticed what I thought was the shadow of a tall man following us amidst the trees that lined the edge of the beach.
“Miss Evans- how nice to see you again.”
I returned my gaze to the slightly flabby young man. He was shorter than average, and wearing a lopsided smile that I must admit reminded me of Anthony Perkins in Psycho. Too much imagination, I reminded myself.
“Were you looking for us?” Heidi asked.
“Not consciously. How is the sleuthing going, Miss Evans?
“Swimmingly.” I have no idea how that word came out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant to sound like I was being flippant. I thought of Ty. He had been swimming, hadn’t he?
Heidi’s eyes were drifting out toward the moonlit waves. Sandy seemed to want her attention back. He wanted both of us to focus on him. “So, Heidi – how’s it feel to be one of the-- what are you, all of twenty-nine now?” Heidi stared at her cousin coldly. “—Richest young babes in Arizona?” He was alluding to the inheritance Heidi had received as a result of Miranda’s death.
Sandy, a nephew, had received nothing. As a teenager, he had been present at the accidental deaths of both Miranda’s children. She apparently did not have a warm spot in her heart for him.
“What’s your problem, Sandy?” Heidi said.
“My psychiatrist says I harbor resentment over losing my mother at a formative age.”
“How did that happen, Sandy?” I asked.
“What?”
“Losing your mother.”
“I’m sure you must have heard the story, Jill. Heidi was your classmate.”
“We didn’t discuss you very often,” said Heidi, barely disguising her dislike.
I took another glance behind me. I was uneasy about this oceanside chat on a largely deserted beach at 10:30 at night. Someone was emerging out of the shadows. Turns out it was a middle aged couple walking a bulldog. The man had a pipe. Looked like Brits.
“My mother died almost before my eyes,” Sandy recounted, a wobble in his voice. “It was really tragic. There I was, a four-year-old kid who had to pee badly.”
“Oh jeeze.” Heidi shook her head and walked away, headed toward the ocean.
Sandy ignored his cousin’s departure. “I was rattling the bathroom doorknob. He made his voice like a child: “’Mama, mama, I gotta pee bad. Please, mama.’” He reverted then to his normal voice, lowered it for dramatic affect: “She was screaming on the other side of the door. Calling my name. ’Sandy..! Sandy..!’”
“What happened?” I asked calmly, refusing to be drawn into his theatrical performance. Actually, I knew the story. One version of it. Ty and I had even discussed it recently. But I wanted to hear Sandy tell it.
Sandy tugged on his lip, looking off. Remembering? Staring at Heidi’s back as she dipped her toes in the gentle tide? “She called me.” His voice became almost a whisper. “Then she said something like—“
He stopped, almost as if he was listening. “’Get out,’ she said. Somebody was in the bathroom. Then she screamed. You know that seventy percent of household deaths occur in the bathroom, Jill?”
“Who was in the bathroom?”
“Oh—what do I know? I was a little kid. I was confused. I ran into her bedroom. The bathroom door on that side was open.” He paused, drew a breath, and then looked at me piteously. “What would you have done, Jill?”
“What would I have done?”
“Yeah, if you were a helpless four-year-old kid. And your mom had been taking a bath, and she screamed your name. A horrible sound. And now she was silent. And the door was open. Would you run away?” He waited for my answer. He struggled for normal breathing.
“I have no idea, Sandy. What did you do?”
For a second, the strange smile reappeared on his lips. Then Sandy pulled a blunt from his shirt pocket. Lit it. Inhaled. Smiled, his eyes rolling back in his head. Exhaled. Offered a toke to me. I shook my head, but I was not unfriendly. He put the joint back between his lips. Inhaled. Smiled sadly. “I went to save my mom,” he said as he exhaled.
“What happened?”
“What happened, Jill? I sure you know this. You and your hound dog sheriff. But you haven’t heard it from me, Jill, have you? From Sandy Barrett, the disturbed child. Ruth. Ruth is my mother’s name.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Ruth, who didn’t leave me a fortune, because someone screwed her. But a mom who left her four-year-old something else more important, far more important. A memory. An indelible memory.”
“Are you going to share?” I gave his moment respect with my eyes. We were in some separate bubble, Sandy and me, because I was startled when Heidi suddenly appeared at my wide.
“I’m getting cold, Jill,” said Heidi, ignoring Sandy. “I think we should head back.”
The bubble was burst.
Krabi, Thailand
July 20th, 2010
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