Marilyn Peake - The Other

Andy asked where Olivia kept litter pans. She showed us into a powder room off the front hallway. The bathroom and litter boxes were clean. There were also bowls of dry food and water in there. Olivia said, “This is basically the cat room. They come and go as they please.”

Andy asked, “Is there any kind of pecking order? Any alpha cats that keep the others from getting enough to eat?”

Scratching her head, Olivia said, “I don’t actually know. I don’t usually watch them eat. Like I said, they’re allowed to come and go as they please. Here, I’ll show you something.”

Leading us through mountains of collected items, Olivia led us to the back door.

I studied the objects she’d collected. I felt like an archaeologist analyzing historical layers, although I couldn’t determine a pattern. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to the collection. It reminded me of a bird’s nest: colorful ribbons and dresses and books and papers, along with a toaster oven, microwave, computer and all sorts of other things stacked into some kind of nest.

When we got to the back door, Olivia pointed to a plastic flap at the bottom. She said, “That door gives them the freedom they want. They can go outside any time they choose.”

Andy said, “I see. One complaint from your neighbors is that your cats are killing the birds.”

Olivia opened her eyes wide in an expression of surprise, then asked, “Whose birds? Their birds?”

Andy said, “No, just regular birds—wild ones, the ones normally outside.”

Olivia said, “Yes. Well, that’s what cats do. There’s no law against that here. I checked.”

I said, “Some of your cats are very thin. Are you concerned about that?”

Turning around to head back toward the living room, Olivia shouted over her shoulder, “No, I’m not. They get plenty to eat.”

When we returned to the living room, Andy said, “We can’t talk to your neighbors for you. We don’t do that. Would you like help with anything else? Would you like us to help you sort through your things, see if there are some you’d like to part with in order to give you more space in your house?”

Olivia said, “I don’t need more space here. I don’t like open spaces. They make me feel nervous and uncomfortable. My home is where I go to feel safe. If you can’t help with the neighbors, I guess I don’t need your help.” She smiled and reached out her hand.

Andy shook her hand first, then I did.

As we were getting ready to walk out the front door, a mangy-looking calico cat sauntered up carrying a wriggling mouse in its teeth. Olivia laughed. “This one loves to bring me gifts.” Shooing the cat away, she said, “Come back later, Cinnamon. No mice in here!”

When we got back to the car, I asked Andy what the next step would be for us with Olivia.

Andy said, “There isn’t a next step. Not unless a family member or someone else specifically asks us to help, or the health department threatens to kick her out, or the bank threatens to foreclose on her house if she has a mortgage. Other than that, we don’t have the right to interfere with her life.”

On the drive over to Max’s house, we listened to a podcast on UFOs. Andy said, “I’m trying to learn as much as I can, in case this stuff turns out be real.”

I said, “Uh-huh. You should get informed about Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster, too, while you’re at it.”

Andy said, “Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster aren’t taking over people’s brains and making them go crazy right now. Have you heard the reports coming out of California?”

I said, “Yeah. I am a bit concerned, actually. It just seems so surreal. Something definitely seems to be happening out there. It could be anything affecting those people, though, maybe something in their water supply.”

Andy said, “I can’t think of anything that normally gets into the water supply that would make you see things that aren’t there.” He smiled. “I mean, unless they’re dumping LSD into the reservoir or something.”

I said, “Yeah, I’m sure that’s not happening. Sounds like something a movie villain would do. In real life, it would be too expensive.” I laughed.

As we drove up to Max’s place, we stopped joking around.

Six police cars with flashing red and blue lights had pulled into his driveway and parked on his front lawn. Wheel marks had flattened the grass and left a trail.

A bunch of police officers had gathered in the front yard. Max’s hands were constrained in handcuffs behind his back. Maggie was there, along with two men I didn’t know. Maggie was waving her hands, talking to the officers and crying. Neighbors had lined up across the street to watch the spectacle.

Andy parked next to the curb. As we got out of the car and stepped on the grass, a police officer placed a hand on his gun and walked toward us at a fast pace. Noticing this, Maggie came up beside him. In a shaky voice, she said, “Officer, these are my dad’s social workers. They were working with him on his hoarding issues.”

The officer said, “Fine. They can’t go inside the house or inside any buildings on the property, though, you understand? Same for you, Miss. This is a crime scene now. We need all of you to leave as soon as we take your dad to the station. We’ll be taping off the area.”

As he turned and left, a couple of the other officers took Max by the arms and walked him to one of the police cars. Blue and red light washed over the houses and ground with a sweeping rhythm. The crowd murmured. A couple of people pointed.

Maggie put her face in her hands and wept. The sound she made was horrible, like the howling of a wounded animal.

I didn’t know what to say. Andy remained silent, observing her, waiting.

Finally, Maggie wiped the tears from her face and the snot from under her nose. She looked incredibly lost and tormented. Her eyes looked haunted. She said, “I don’t understand. I don’t understand.”

I asked, “What happened, Maggie?”

She said, “The police found my mother.”

I said, “Oh, my God, Maggie. Is she OK?” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I shouldn’t have said them.

Maggie started crying again. Eventually getting herself under enough control to speak, she said, “No, she’s not OK! The police found her in a room under the barn. My dad had arranged to have the space dug out, cement poured to make walls and a floor, and a trapdoor placed on top. The police are accusing him of killing my mom. My dad says she died in her sleep and he couldn’t part with her. He’d drained her blood and set her up down there. The room was filled with roses, most of them dead. He said he brought her flowers every day. Let me go talk to my brothers…” With that, she turned and walked away.

Out of the blue, like lightning in a storm, a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen like I’d been shot. I sank into a crouching position, clutching my stomach and moaning. As soon as I could, I stood back up. Andy walked beside me to the car and opened the door. When we got inside, he said, “You really need to get that checked. It could be appendicitis. Don’t worry about taking time off. We have a pretty generous sick day policy and fifteen extra mental health days if needed. I’m going to take a few days off next week myself. That was a rather gruesome turn of events, wouldn’t you say?”

I shook my head yes . I stared out the window as we drove back to the office. People were walking along the side of the road. The show was over; they were going back home, probably to gossip about whatever they thought had happened at Max’s place.

When I got home from work, I sat down at my computer and signed into the search angel forum. I had a message from Hannah!