Ghost Days, page 7
Parrish looked over her shoulder. “So you didn’t mean it?”
Garza started to answer, then closed her mouth. She shrugged. “If it’s easier.”
“No, I’m asking you.” She turned fully on the bed, facing Garza. “Did you mean it?”
Garza forced herself to meet Parrish’s gaze. “Yeah.”
Parrish looked down again. “That’s not going to make me leave him.”
“I know,” Garza said. “I didn’t say it to make you do anything. I said it because it’s how I feel. And it’s always nice to hear, and after everything you’ve told me, I think it’s probably been a long time since anyone has said it to you. I wanted to be the one who said it.”
Parrish rubbed at one eye with a knuckle.
“So fuck it,” Garza said. “I love you. Intentional, wide awake, and when I’m positive you can hear it. It doesn’t have to mean anything beyond what it means. Okay?”
Parrish nodded. “Thank you. Oh god.” She looked up, her face twisted in disgust. “What a horrible response. I l--”
“No,” Garza leaned forward and put her hand over Parrish’s mouth. “Don’t. You don’t have to say it, and I don’t want to hear it if you’re not totally sure. Thank you works. I’m happy with thank you.”
“Are you sure?”
Garza nodded. “Positive.”
Parrish got back into bed and put her arms around Garza. She kissed her lightly, then again, and then harder.
“Will you make love to me?”
Garza lowered Parrish to the mattress.
***
Parrish was in a sour mood the rest of the morning. She put on her dress, then silently sat with her head down on the dinner table while Garza made them breakfast. She tried not to take it personally. She knew it didn’t have anything to do with their conversation, but she couldn’t help but feel the brunt of responsibility as they sat silently at the table picking at their food. She didn’t want to take it back. She didn’t want Parrish to say anything she wasn’t prepared to say. But she hated that saying it, as good as it had felt, seemed to have sent what they had crashing into a wall at full speed.
“What time do you have to leave?” Parrish asked.
“Around noon.”
Parrish made a quiet noise of affirmation. “I should probably head out around then, too.”
“Okay,” Garza said.
Parrish put her hand on her coffee mug, let go, then grabbed it again. She held it, but didn’t take a drink. She just stared at it as if trying to figure out what the purpose of the thing was.
“You don’t have to go get him.”
“I do,” Garza said. “It’s my job.”
Parrish looked at her. “I can break your plane.”
“They have buses. There are other planes.”
“It could give us another few hours.”
Garza pushed back her chair and went to the kitchen. She crouched in front of the sink and dug around underneath until she found what she was looking for. She came back to the table and placed the wrench next to Parrish’s plate, like it was part of the place setting.
“Try not to break anything too expensive,” Garza said as she sat back down.
Parrish managed a weak smile at that. “Four days with him,” she said, gingerly tracing the edge of the handle with her fingertip. “Four days I could be spending with you instead.”
Garza didn’t know what to say to that. She wasn’t the one who had suggested this arrangement. She hadn’t offered, hadn’t hinted, hadn’t opened up the possibility. She felt a deep-down irritation that Parrish was playing the victim situation in this when she had all the power. She could leave Saul. Just walk away, since they weren’t married, and be with someone who made her happy. But apparently her priorities were different. But she couldn’t say that to someone she’d just declared her love for. She refused to further sully the last few hours they had together with a fight.
So instead, she said, “I’ll be here when it’s over.”
Parrish pushed her coffee away and stood up. “I’m going to go take a bath. If that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
Parrish bent down and kissed the top of Garza’s head. “Thank you, Erika.”
Garza watched her go, then looked down at the food left on her plate. She suddenly didn’t have much of an appetite.
***
Saul had such a punchable face, that she was surprised she hadn’t lashed out at it before. She greeted him with a smile, a nod, and then followed him aboard the plane. He took one of the back seats again and Garza was happy to have him out of her sight. She was also grateful he wouldn’t sit in the seat that had last held Christine Parrish’s bare ass. Two hours to get him home, and then a thousand years until Parrish was in her bed again.
They were an hour into the flight when Saul spoke up. “Excuse me, Miss Garza.”
“Everything all right?” she asked without turning around.
“There...” He hesitated. She looked back at him, and he aimed a long thin finger at the underside of her seat. “There seems to be a pair of... undergarments...”
Garza’s heart leapt into her throat. She reached down, fishing around until she felt them, and pulled them free. She balled them up and dropped them into her lap.
“So that’s where they went.” She was surprised at how calm and normal she sounded. “Delivered a parcel of clothes to... a group of... fishermen... up in Medicine Hat.” She had no idea where these words were coming from, but she was grateful for each of them. “One of the bags split open. I thought I got everything, but one of the wives said there were some items missing. Guess we just found one of them.”
She smirked. She almost believed it herself.
“I see,” he said. “I was sure there’d be a reasonable explanation. It was quite an unusual sight.”
She forced a laugh. “Yeah, I bet.”
She looked down at the wadded-up underwear in her lap. Parrish’s. Of course they were. She clenched her jaw, wondered if Saul was the type of man who would recognize his partner’s panties or if he would just think they all looked the same. Probably the latter. Hopefully the latter. Either way, she wasn’t going to give him another chance to get a look at them. She palmed the cotton and shoved the panties into her pocket.
Hopefully the horrified panic would fade and the story would be funny by the time she had a chance to tell the story to Parrish.
***
Garza was so focused on landing safely that she didn’t notice anything amiss, even after they were on the ground. Parrish’s panties burned in her pocket, and she was certain Saul had spent the rest of the flight staring at them, seeing through the material of her pants to examine them to prove his suspicions. She landed, eager to be rid of him and the tension in her shoulders. He gathered his bags and waited for her to open the plane door for him. When he stepped out, he paused and looked toward the house, then toward the street.
“Curious,” he said.
Garza, crouched and waiting to follow him off the plane, tensed. What had he seen? “What’s that?” she asked.
“I assumed Christine would be waiting for me as she was last week.”
Garza frowned. She straightened, looking out the window. When Parrish left, she’d implied she would come back to give him a lift home. It was only their second week doing this, so it wasn’t like they had a routine, but it still seemed very odd.
“Maybe she lost track of time,” Garza said. “Or she forgot what day it was.”
“Perhaps.” He continued out of the plane, finally freeing Garza as well. As they crossed to the house, he turned at the waist to look back at her. “May I use your telephone?”
Garza nodded. “Sure, no problem.”
She unlocked the office and went behind the desk, lifting the phone and moving it to the other side of the desk for him. She sat awkwardly as he dialed, then turned her attention to the window. She wondered if Parrish’s absence was because of her. Because of the conversation they’d had earlier. Her skin felt hot but, at the same time, she was radiating coldness from the inside, terrified Saul was about to find out about them. What if Parrish was at home, packing her things? She didn’t dare let herself hope for that.
But if it didn’t had anything to do with their affair, then where the hell was she?
“Hm.”
She looked at Saul as he hung up. “No answer?”
“Perhaps she is on her way.” He looked toward the road as if the car would appear there.
Garza nodded. “That’s probably it. Long line at the bank or something. I’m sure she’ll roll up any minute now.”
Saul drummed his fingers on the receiver. “I won’t wait. May I use your phone again?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
He dialed again. This time the call was answered almost immediately. “Yes, this is Saul P. Oakhill. I require a taxi.” He gave them the address, reading it off one of the business cards on the desk. “Yes, the airport. Thank you.” He put the phone back in its cradle. “A car will arrive in approximately fifteen minutes. I will wait outside.”
“You can wait in--”
“I’ve disturbed your business enough.” He picked up his luggage. “Thank you for your help.”
He was gone before she thought of anything to say. He sat down on a bench outside, posture perfect, bags at his feet, and waited. Garza alternated between watching him and the road. Every minute that passed made it less and less likely any car would ever appear on the road. Even the taxi would somehow be swallowed up by this odd day.
But finally, just over ten minutes later, she saw someone coming. Parrish, she thought, at last. Saul would use the phone again to call the taxi company and cancel. But that would be fine. Maybe Parrish would wait outside when he made the call, and Garza would go to her so they could speak briefly while he was on the phone. She was dying to know why she’d been so late. Maybe it was a simple explanation, something innocuous like she’d guessed. Long line at the store, delay at the bank. Maybe she’d gone home to take a nap and her alarm didn’t go off. She hadn’t gotten very much sleep the night before, and yesterday had been busy.
Maybe... maybe she didn’t want to come back here after their talk that morning. Maybe she forced Saul to call a cab on purpose so she wouldn’t have to see Garza again.
The approaching car was the taxi. Her heart and stomach fell, revealing to her just how much she’d been hoping to see Parrish, even briefly. Even if they would’ve had to be casual and distant to each other, she’d been looking forward to it as one last glimpse before the drought of the long weekend.
Saul had also seen the car. He stood and returned to the office. “If Christine arrives after I’ve departed, please let her know the situation.”
“Sure thing,” she said.
He nodded, returned to the bench, and retrieved his luggage.
She watched him go, watched the taxi vanish into the distance. She kept her eyes on the horizon long enough that a negative of the landscape was burned into her eyelids when she closed them. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, blinked them until she could see normally again, and focused on her books.
The four day countdown began again.
***
That night, she held the panties in her hand like a security blanket while she slept. She woke a few times during the night with her fist near her face, breathing deeply, even though the most dominant scents were from her own hand. It helped her feel closer to Parrish, and she didn’t want to let the panties go or just drop them in the hamper to be washed.
In the morning, she felt more than a little awkward waking up with someone’s underwear in her hand. She hid them under her pillow to delay deciding what to do with them, then went to her office.
She didn’t expect a call from Saul or Parrish explaining what had happened with the pick-up. Saul wouldn’t see the need to update his hired pilot, and Parrish would have to find privacy to make the call or else risk explaining why she was sharing the information. She just told herself, once again, that it would probably wind up being a dumb, uninteresting story when she finally got all the details.
It was Friday, which meant ferrying a group of fishermen to Manitoba. She’d be plenty busy with clients and keeping her schedule straight, she wouldn’t even have time to wonder about Parrish, Saul, or what might be waiting for her the next time she saw them.
She settled in behind her desk and got to work on her itinerary.
Chapter Eight
Tuesday
The plane was fueled up, washed, and ready to go. Garza had woken up early, dressed in her best outfit, and went to her office to wait for the already familiar growl of Saul’s car. She’d gotten a haircut on Sunday night. Not to impress anyone, because it had been time. But she checked herself out in the mirror before she left the bathroom and smiled at her reflection. It wasn’t a huge change, so she didn’t expect Parrish to notice. But given how often she liked to grab handfuls of it, Garza hoped she at least noticed there was less to hold onto today.
Nine-thirty came and went, and the road outside the airport remained empty. She double-checked her watch against the wall clock to make sure it was running correctly, then went back to waiting. At ten, she went to tidy up the kitchen. She assumed Saul was sending her a message about punctuality, wasting her time the way she’d wasted his, something childish like that. It was stupid, but at least she could at least understand it.
She waited until noon, when it would be impossible to get him to Calgary before lunch even with the time difference, to call the number he’d left with her.
“Mr. Oakhill, this is Erika Garza out at Red Kite Aviation. I’m calling to remind you of the cancelation policy we discussed when you hired me. Lack of notice or failure to appear within three hours of the departure time constitutes a no-show, which I’m afraid means that you’ll still be charged for today’s flight. I’d be happy to fly you out tomorrow, if I’m available, but there’s no guarantee I won’t have another client by then. Feel free to give me a call back if you--”
She heard a car door shut and looked out the window, certain he’d arrived at the exact moment she’d looked away. She was incredibly surprised to see, instead of Saul, a Red Kite squad car. Two officers had gotten out. The driver was a cartoon cowboy, broad shoulders and a face that looked like it was carved from stone. His hair was a silver-gray blend that made him look distinguished, dependable. The passenger was shorter, barely coming up to his shoulder. She was Black and she was a little softer around the edges, but that just made her look trustworthy in a different way. He was Authority. She was Friend. It felt like a potentially dangerous combination.
“--if you, um, if you’re still planning to travel tomorrow.” She recited her number and then hung up, moving around her desk just as the officers reached the door and knocked.
“Afternoon,” she said. “Can I help you?”
“Good afternoon.” Even his voice sounded like a radio announcer, strong and steady with just a hint of southern twang. “Could I speak with E. Garza? It’s my understanding he’s the boss here?”
“I’m Erika Garza,” she said.
He had the good grace to look abashed. “Apologies, ma’am, we only had the first initial to go with and made an assumption. I’m Sergeant Kyle Elver.” He gestured at the woman. “Constable Shiela Rais. I was hoping you might help us answer a few questions.”
“I... hope so,” she said uncertainly. “Do you want to come inside?”
“That would be a big relief, thank you.” He gave her a friendly smile as she stepped aside.
Rais nodded and said, “Ma’am,” as she followed Elver inside. Erika closed the door and went to take her seat.
“So, uh, how can I help the Red Kite police?”
“Well, I’m afraid it’s a bit of grisly business.” Elver leaned forward, just a neighbor sharing some gossip. “We’re investigating a suspicious death, and it seems as if you were the last to see the victim alive.”
Garza was shaken. “What? Who?”
“Saul Preston Oakhill,” Rais provided.
She almost asked ‘what about him,’ then realized what she was saying. She flinched and fell back against her chair, switching her attention to Elver again.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I suppose that confirms he was a passenger. We found your name and this address in his planner, but there was no real context for what it meant.”
Garza nodded absently. “Yeah, he was a client. I f-flew him to Calgary and back again. Four times. Well, to Calgary twice and back twice.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I mean I took him there, and a few days later--”
“We follow,” Elver assured her. “When was the last trip?”
“Today,” Garza said. “Er, no, I mean, it was supposed to be today. I took him there Tuesdays and brought him home Thursdays. So the last trip would’ve been last Thursday.”
Rais was taking notes. “These trips were over these past two weeks? Back to back?”
“That’s right.” Garza’s brain caught up to her. “Wait, I can’t be the last person who saw him alive. There was a taxi, he called a taxi to come pick him up.”
Elver perked up at that. “Do you happen to recall the name of the company?”
“I don’t,” she said. “But he called from here. It would be in my phone records.”
“You won’t mind us looking those up?”
She shook her head. “No, go ahead.”
Elver nodded his thanks.
A large portion of Garza’s brain was dedicated to worrying about Parrish, if she was okay, if she had found the body, if they’d talked to her, before it connected to the main part of her brain.
“Wait, Parrish. Uh, Christine Parrish.”
Elver and Rais both looked at her, waiting for context.
“She would’ve been the last person to see him alive. Right? Unless it happened right after he left the airport on Thursday.”
“And who is Christine Parrish?”
