Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Lee Holmes appreciated the irony of attempting to escape her past by using leftover boxes from their body disposal to currently hold some of her books and old tapes from her childhood.
She had yet to speak to her landlord about breaking her contract, and yet, despite that, packing away the parts of her that were yet to be tainted felt oddly therapeutic.
She had decided only just last night that perhaps it was time for a change of scenery, and whilst most individuals would reflect upon a decision such as moving house, Lee elected to ignore anything that might resemble doubt, and instead, started the process that following morning.
After all, she had always wanted to live in a smaller town, only opting to stay in New York if only to keep Morgan happy. What she didn’t realize at the time, however, was why Morgan had wanted to stay wrapped up together in a large city in the first place.
Sealing the first box shut reminded her of the coffin that should have remained closed; the coffin that had only been opened in the first place because of her own recklessness.
Moving home wouldn’t give her the fresh start that she wanted, or rather, that she believed she needed, but perhaps it would alleviate the emotional burden that she was ill-equipped to carry for much longer.
Her phone rang just as she had finished sealing the first box, using her teeth to cut the tape from the rest of the roll.
This was something that Morgan Finch would do, and Lee would normally scold her for, but the longer she went without Morgan, the longer she found herself adopting some of her personality traits.
It was, however, something she was able to come to terms with, so long as she didn’t adopt any of Morgan’s murderous traits simultaneously.
Diana Finch’s name popped up on her caller ID as she shifted the phone from her pocket.
Having just spent yesterday afternoon with her, Lee deemed this to be unusual, and yet despite this, for the first time in a long time she felt able to answer the phone with a nonchalant greeting, acknowledging that the call was likely trivial.
“Hey Diana,” she said, plainly.
“Lee,” Diana responded back instantly, practically saying Lee’s own name before Lee had even said Diana’s. “I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but this can’t wait.”
It was only then that Lee’s heart began to race, only then that she was beginning to feel stupid, embarrassed even, for thinking that she would ever be able to do something as simple as answering a phone call again without sweating out anxiety and nerves.
“You aren’t bothering me at all,” Lee said, almost timidly, as if the act of speaking quieter would make her feel smaller. Perhaps if she spoke softly enough, she would disappear entirely, or, at the very least, convince the world that she wasn’t a threat. “Is everything alright?”
There was a pause on the line that felt like minutes to Lee, only, she knew it could have only been a few seconds. It wasn’t fair to Diana, but at that moment she wanted to reach through the phone and shake her for making her wait even another second longer to find out what was going on.
“Not really, no,” Diana sighed, finally, sounding exhausted.
“Given the rising circumstances of the case with Arthur’s recent disappearance, and the body of Oscar Tippits being discovered, we’re interviewing everyone on your floor again who might have come into contact with Edward Beckett,” Diana said, pausing for a moment as the line went silent.
“It’s just a formality,” Diana continued.
“There’s nothing to worry about, and we won’t be searching your apartment.
The department only wants to engage in further questioning. ”
Retracting the phone from her ear for just a moment, Lee allowed the air inside her to come out gradually in a naive attempt at slowing her heartrate down. “I understand,” Lee said, placing the phone back beside her ear. “Will you be conducting the interview yourself?”
“I wish I could,” Diana said, sounding more like herself as the call progressed. “It would be considered a conflict of interest given the fact that I’m Morgan’s mother.”
“Morgan isn’t here,” Lee blurted out, sighing herself, this time, into the phone. “We broke up a couple of days ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just didn’t know how to.”
“I know,” Diana said, calmly. “Morgan told me. A detective stopped by her hotel this morning and conducted an interview with her. That same detective will be with you in approximately thirty minutes or so.”
Lee Holmes placed a hand against her now boiling hot forehead, acknowledging a bead of sweat that had begun to form there.
She wanted to laugh into the phone as soon as Diana had told her how long she had to prepare herself.
She wanted to laugh and then she wanted to cry.
Alas, she didn’t have much time for either.
“Excellent,” she said, a little too enthusiastically than was required for such a request. “I’ll be ready. Talk soon.”
Lee Holmes stood with the phone still pressed firmly between the fingers on her left hand after hanging up, wrapping them around the screen as she closed her eyes and exhaled.
Preparing for each and every day as of late was like preparing to jump over hurdle after hurdle time and time again.
Even after her breakup with Morgan, the mental Olympics she was having to commit to wasn’t beginning to wear her down, it had reduced her to nothing more than an empty shell.
The further she pushed herself, the harder it became to jump.
She had always found it interesting how her mind was always clouded around other human beings, as if she couldn’t see through the smoke until every other person was no longer in it themselves, as if they were emitting their own fog just by being around her.
Latching onto the thoughts she required when holding up a conversation had always been difficult for her, and after disconnecting the call with Diana, today was no different.
Her thoughts at that very moment latched onto the flowers that lined the hallway, namely, the flowers that connected Morgan to The Hyacinth Homicides.
It was only then that a laugh escaped her lips as she placed a hand over her mouth, as if acknowledging etiquette despite no one else being in the room besides her.
She laughed, because in thirty minutes, she would either leave here in handcuffs, or, just about every cop in the area would be sent to apprehend her ex-girlfriend.
And then—another latching thought.
Either option was likely only plausible if the hyacinths still remained in their apartment by the time the detective arrived.
If flowers were known to have a calming aura, these particular flowers had lost their calm connotations completely.
Decisions were just passing thoughts, that’s all they were, Lee deduced.
A passing thought today might look completely different than a passing thought tomorrow.
The actions she undertook, or didn’t undertake, might take place or not take place in another timeline, another day, another universe.
Even so, Lee Holmes did not have the time or luxury of being philosophical.
The passing thought that she had that day was all that mattered.
Before she could latch onto another decision within her mind, and change the future in a different way, she grabbed the closest pot and carried it into the kitchen.
Placing it onto the counter, she took a pair of scissors and cut each hyacinth in rapid succession, throwing them into the sink before placing the plug inside.
Turning on the tap now, she reached into the cupboard to her left whilst the water filled and retrieved a tub of baking soda.
She flicked open the lid, turned off the tap, and poured.
“This is fucking insane,” she said aloud, as if convincing herself to turn back time and put the flowers back exactly where she had left them.
I swear I had no idea, officer. I’ve always just admired the pretty flowers. “What the fuck am I doing?”
As the flowers dissolved alongside what was left of her innocence, she replicated the same action a total of six times to account for the remaining flowers, leaving herself with seven plant pots filled with nothing more now than roots, and soil.
She was completely aware presently that with the little time she had, the only option as to removing the soil was to pour it into the drain.
She sighed at the prospect of potentially causing the greatest clog known to man, as she carried two pots at a time into the bathroom, pouring the contents into the bathtub.
Just as she had done before, she turned the tap on and made her way back into the kitchen, grabbing her baking soda once again and a bottle of vinegar as an additional measure.
Before she made her way back to the bathroom, she turned on the kettle to prepare some boiling water.
Pouring both the baking soda and vinegar into the bath, she created a nasty brown concoction sprinkled with white powder floating at the top.
With the water from the taps still present, she returned to the kitchen in order to retrieve the kettle before pouring it down the bathtub drain in a vague attempt at separating the dirt as much as possible.
If all that comes of this is a clogged drain, I will never ask anything of anyone ever again, she thought to herself.