Good Neighbor

I lifted my mug of tea to my lips and let the steam fill my nostrils. I stared out the living room window. The next door neighbors’ flowers had been in brilliant bloom last Saturday morning, but now they were drooping and turning brown. The yellow tape with big black letters ballooned out from the stakes as a spring breeze tugged at it. And within the borders of the tape a large darkening stain marred the neighbors’ driveway.

I like windows. They let in so much light on a sunny day and there’s nothing like sunshine to make dark thoughts dissipate. Not that I would know personally. I honestly can’t remember the last time I had a dreary thought. A positive mindset is a powerful thing, really helps bolster productivity and getting things checked off a to-do list.

Knock, knock.

Another visitor. I hoped this one would be a little more intelligent than the last one. Dull wits make for terrible conversation.

I opened the door to a somber faced man with a badge glinting on his chest.

“Good morning, Ms. Stark,” said the man. “I’m Detective Hunter. I need to follow up with you regarding the statement you gave to the officer who interviewed you yesterday.”

“Yes, of course,” I said with a smile. “Please come in. Can I get you something to drink? Some tea, perhaps?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” Detective Hunter said.

I led him into the living room. He settled into an armchair and I took a seat on the couch across from him. I inspected him over the rim of my mug as I took another sip. He had keen eyes and a scar on his chin. Quite handsome, but not as attractive as Liam.

Detective Hunter gestured to the furniture and artwork on the walls. “You have a lovely home, Ms. Stark.”

“Why, thank you, detective,” I replied. Excellent, he recognized good taste. A much better start than the one to yesterday’s conversation. “I like pretty things.”

“How long have you lived in this house, Ms. Stark?”

“Almost ten years.”

“And how long have the Millers lived next door?”

“About six months.”

“How well did you know the Millers?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid. I work long hours and don’t have much time to socialize.” I decided not to mention that I don’t like to socialize. I never was good at making friends. And it always seemed like a waste of time.

“And what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a CEO for a retail company.”

“CEO. That sounds stressful, lots of pressure I bet.”

“It’s a cutthroat industry to be sure. But I enjoy a challenge. I’m one of those people who thrives under pressure. And I’m sure it’s a less stressful occupation than yours, detective.”

“Probably,” Detective Hunter said. “Were you at home last night?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see or hear anything suspicious? Something out of the ordinary? These big beautiful homes have lots of windows.”

I smiled. “I saw Mrs. Miller watering her flowers around sunset and I heard Mr. Miller roll his garbage can to the curb before I went to bed. Nothing suspicious.”

“And before last night you hadn’t noticed any signs of conflict between Mr. and Mrs. Miller?”

“Well…” I knew I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but if a detective asks you a question, you answer. And he was asking better questions than the officer had.

“Yes?” the detective prompted.

“One does hear and see things from time to time. Mrs. Miller seemed to be going through a rough patch. She’s very private, keeps the blinds shut and the curtains closed. But I’ve heard some shrill shouting and I’ve caught sight of her going for her nightly jog looking eager to burn off some steam.”

“And Mr. Miller? Any shouting or alarming behaviors?”

“No, he looks tired a lot, but I suppose that is to be expected when you come home from work to an unpleasant situation at home.” I certainly considered Mrs. Miller to be quite tiresome.

“Do you have any idea what was causing Mrs. Miller’s unhappiness.”

“Well, I think she might have had some paranoia. She didn’t used to keep the house so shuttered, but then it was as though she developed a fear of sunlight. She became very keen to cover every window in the house.”

“I see. Do you live alone, Ms. Stark?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any frequent guests?”

“None. Unless you count the police over the last twenty four hours.” I smiled a bit at my cleverness.

“You’re certain?”

“Quite! I think I’d know if there was a guest in my home, wouldn’t I?”

“Of course. It’s just that Mr. Miller has claimed that his wife was indeed suffering from some sort of paranoia. He said that a few weeks after they moved in Mrs. Miller noticed a man staring at her through the windows of your house. He said anytime she looked out one of their windows facing toward your house that the man would be watching her.”

“But that’s impossible! I promise, detective, there is no man living in my house. Please search if you would like.” It was a sincere invitation. I had nothing to hide. Nothing he would find anyways.

“I don’t think that will be necessary. Mr. Miller said that he had considered calling the police to investigate, but then Mrs. Miller started seeing the man in their other next door neighbor’s house, and then in the house across the street from theirs.”

“Was she hallucinating?”

“It seemed the only logical explanation, but now she’s been murdered and Mr. Miller is convinced that there really must have been a man stalking her. And her killer must have been someone who had observed Mrs. Miller enough to know her routine of jogging at night so he could be lying in wait upon her return. And then there’s the salt.”

“Pardon?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Someone dumped salt in the Millers’ flower beds earlier this week. May have been some sort of threat.”

“How awful!”

“And Mrs. Newton a couple doors down from the Millers mentioned a strange disappearance of her sugar and salt containers on Monday night and their inexplicable return on Thursday morning. It is a strange case and the investigation is very much ongoing. But we do want to advise you and the other neighbors to change your locks.”

“Yes, detective! I certainly will!” It was the first lie, but people make promises that they don't intend to keep all the time.

“Well, thank you for your time, Ms. Stark. I’ll be in touch if I can provide further insights or if I have any additional questions.”

I escorted him out the door and then decided I wouldn’t mind another cup of tea. The kitchen smelled absolutely scrumptious from the apple pie baking in the oven. It had been a good decision to borrow the sugar with the salt.

Glancing out the kitchen window I was delighted to see the Millers’ – I mean Mr. Miller’s – curtains drawn back for the first time in months. He was there sitting at the granite island staring into a coffee mug.

The oven timer beeped and I hurried to remove the pie. After first steeping and then gulping down another cup of tea (all while enjoying the view from the window), the pie had cooled enough to be carried.

The police cars had all departed so no one intercepted me as I dipped under the yellow tape. I almost chided myself for not getting my keys out before picking up the pie, but then remembered this wasn’t one of those visits where I’d be letting myself in. In fact the keys weren’t on my person at all. They were securely stored – along with a high quality fake beard – in the safe hidden behind a fabulous abstract painting.

I tapped the doorbell with my elbow. A couple minutes passed before the door swung open.

“Oh, hi, Tina.”

“Hello, Liam. Just wanted to say how sorry I am.” The second lie of the day. “And to bring over a pie.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it. Don’t think I’ll have the appetite to eat much so I’m sorry if it goes to waste.”

“Of course. Well if you need someone to talk to or someone to eat some dessert with, I’m right next door.”

Liam Miller nodded. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

I deposited the pie in his hands and turned to go.

“Did the detective talk with you, Tina?” Liam asked.

“Yes, he did. Such a horrible thing Melanie must have been going through. A stalker. I can’t imagine.” My third lie.

“It was horrible, but I didn’t realize…I thought she was making it all up. She always liked attention and I knew she felt lonely here since we moved. But now this…I should have taken her seriously.”

“Don’t blame yourself, Liam. It’ll take time, but you’ll find a way forward.”

He nodded again. “I appreciate it. You’re a good neighbor, Tina.”

“I should have been better,” I said. Not a lie, but not sincere.

“Well, like you said. Find a way forward.”

“I think I am,” I smiled. “Enjoy the pie, Liam.”

I made my way back to my house, smiling ear to ear. Another item checked off the to-do list! Now I’d just have to wait for all the new locks to be installed and I could begin surveilling for spare keys to make copies.

Good neighbors give gifts. They let you borrow things. Melanie Miller was not a good neighbor. She had no interest in sharing. Most neighbors these days don’t. But I’m a go-getter. I help myself. I borrow and I return without anyone being the wiser.

But some things can’t be borrowed. They have to be stolen. And sometimes if a thing is guarded too closely to be stolen stealthily, it needs to be taken by force and the former owner eliminated from the equation. I told the truth to the detective. I like pretty things and Liam Miller is a very pretty thing.

Author's Note: This piece is loosely inspired by the following Taylor Swift and Post Malone song.