The Neighbors

A week ago, I was walking in my neighborhood (a gated neighborhood) minding my own business when I heard a scream from the house next to mine. I am an old man. I have very little to cherish aside from my morning strolls, but I make the best of each day, and I enjoy my life enough. I am retired now and my former wife of 25 years has passed away.

Normally, this is quite a peaceful place: It’s largely a retirement community for the wealthy who want to settle down in a safe area. The security is spectacular, I must say, and I rarely hear anything except for Melissa watering her petunias religiously.

As far as I knew, Melissa and her husband Doug had a practically perfect relationship, having been together for years on end, decades even. Unfortunately, the scream was a high-pitched woman’s shriek, and it was coming from Melissa’s place. Two cars were in the driveway, and I’d seen Doug return home from something-or-other the night before through my window when I was preparing my evening tea. I thought I saw the silhouette of another person but I couldn't quite make out who it was.

The loud, high-pitched scream was quite unexpected, I must say: I had never heard of any issues between the couple before. I thought about calling the police—it crossed my mind this was a case of domestic violence—but I thought better of it: Surely Doug was incapable of something so horrific. Perhaps Melissa had simply fallen down or something of that sort. It couldn’t be anything serious.

Seven days ago, I was certain of that.

Today, as I sit here on a lovely Sunday morning with the sun peeping through the window, I deeply regret my lack of action.

***

I turned on the television yesterday morning to find, to my absolute horror, that Melissa Bethston’s bloody body was found on the floor of her kitchen. As far as anyone knows, there was no one there aside from her husband, so you can imagine the rumors circulating around the neighborhood. I am wondering now if the light was simply playing tricks on me or if I truly did see the silhouette of another person. My memory keeps playing tricks on me as I get older.

Perhaps Doug is capable of such evil. I always found him to be quite a feeble man myself, but maybe there was an inner monster who had only recently come out to play.

***

I wondered how everyone had found out what could have possibly happened, but I was not in the in group in the community, so I didn’t hear all of the gossip: I simply had to eavesdrop on my strolls.

Unfortunately, Doug had been my only friend in this place.

Now, for obvious reasons, I avoided the man, though I never saw his car in his driveway anymore.

Maybe he made a run for it after what happened…I was curious, to say the least.

***

One morning, as it was threatening to rain, I heard Irene and Agatha chatting over tea in Irene’s lovely (and slightly pretentious) garden.

“Do you think good ‘ole Dougy could have done such a thing? He always seems like the nicest man to me, so sweet and all. He treated Melissa like a queen,” Irene said.

“The man had a temper if you hung around him long enough,” Agatha replied as she devoured a biscuit, “He was livid with Melissa for flirting with another man. I could see it in his eyes. He never angered publicly, but I could hear him through the window of their car as they were driving home that afternoon. She’d been a bit too friendly with Ed.”

“Ed?”

“Ed: the pool boy. You know he’s quite lovely. Very handsome. Very young. He’s also a great dancer, much to Doug’s chagrin,” she let out a little chuckle as she said it.

So Doug did have a temper…but would he ever go that far?

I realized I’d stayed a bit too long in one spot, likely revealing my agenda of overhearing the neighborhood news, so I swiftly picked up my pace and did my usual circle on the sidewalks, but I couldn’t get it out of my head that Doug would never do something like that. I knew him well, and he was a good man.

Did anyone ever know anyone though, really?

I sighed as I returned to my house and unlocked my door, then went inside.

My phone rang, so I answered it, though I was a bit perplexed: I had only one friend up until now and a brother. Tim simply dropped by—he knew I wasn’t busy. Doug had always done the same.

I couldn’t imagine who was calling.

“Hello Steven. It’s Doug. I know you’ve probably heard the rumors. I didn’t do it. I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“Doug, where are you? What happened?”

“It’s my son. H-he came home last week. I was worried because he is an alcoholic and he has a bad temper with the stuff running through his veins. Things…got out of hand. I’m with him now in another state. I cannot tell you where. I’m scared for my life. For my freedom. For my son’s freedom.”

“The police have already been over here.”

“I know. I’m just biding my time hoping they never find us.”

"Us?"

“Yes. My son is here. I can’t believe I even told you about him! I’m losing my mind, I swear. I’m totally stressed out. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t me.”

I paused for a moment, taking it all in. I stayed silent a bit too long, but I eventually replied, “I believe you,” though I wasn’t sure I trusted the words coming out of my own mouth.

***

I dressed in black and attended Melissa’s funeral. Doug was still somewhere out of state. The entire neighborhood was talking about it.

That’s when I noticed something odd: a woman in the crowd of the funeral with what looked like a concealed gun hidden in the pocket of her gaudy black gown, green eyes flashing maliciously from a face framed by a mess of carrot-red hair.

She came to ‘pay her respects’ publicly. Apparently, this woman was Melissa’s sister, which she pronounced begrudgingly to everyone in attendance, mentioning without a sliver of grace that Melissa had been a cruel, cruel sibling, which she concentrated on for what seemed like an eternity.

“She was a total bitch. I never loved her. I never even liked her. She was the bane of my existence. I’ll tell you right now: I did it. I was going to spare myself, but I don’t have much to look forward to anyways.”

She grabbed the gun. I was afraid she would point it at all of us for whatever reason. You never know with murderers. They seem addicted to the killing. The adrenaline of it all.

The officer was standing in the crowd, still on the lookout for Doug or whoever the culprit was.

“Arrest me, officer!” She said, daring sheriff Tony to put her wrists in handcuffs, "Arrest me or I'll finish everybody off!"

She put the gun away before he cuffed her. It was odd but that seemed to be all she wanted. If she was one thing, she was earnest.

Gasps rang through the crowd.

I was not the only one who was shocked.

Why had Doug lied to me, and why was he out of state?

I guess I would never know, but I was certain of one thing: The killer was Melissa's sister: Mickie Bethston.