Love, Art, and Murder – Mystery Romance

I didn’t do anything in that bathroom the rest of the time I was there. During that trip, Mom spanked my bottom so many times for peeing outside that the plane ride home was beyond uncomfortable.

I glanced at the new nurse over my shoulder. She whistled as she poured chopped onions into the large pot as if no strange things hung around her. The women must know Grandma somehow.

I should’ve known. Reece said that she had picked a nurse from a health staffing company, but there is no way she did. She must’ve let Grandma pick. There’s no way a woman not practicing corazón muerto would be able to walk around this place without being scared out of their mind.

Detective White drank in the view as I did. I’m sure after all his years investigating murders and situations for the rich, not much surprised him. However, I was sure my family would test that theory one day.

“Her room is right here.” I opened the door.

Dayanara sat in the corner with five dolls in front of her. All of their heads were missing, as usual. She didn’t stop what she was doing or look up at me. Gray hair dotted her temples. A few laugh lines had set in around her lips. It hurt me to realize that she was aging as she lived up in an attic with headless dolls, a stranger nursing her, and walls covered in tattered strips of wallpaper. Detective White stepped in, and I closed the door.

“Dayanara. This is Detective White. He’s going to look around for a little bit while you and I talk. Is that okay?”

She just petted her dolls’ bodies. Scratches decorated her fingers. They looked fresh and barely healed, like she’d just received them last night.

I dug my hand into my pocket and pulled out a strip of yellow wallpaper as bright as the sun. It shone in the hanging light bulb. “I’ve brought you a gift. It’s your favorite color.”

She hummed, but didn’t look up. I came closer to her while Detective White walked around tapping the wooden panels a few times and shining his flashlight into the cracks between the planks.

“I’m going to place the wallpaper right next to you.” I set it down by her feet.

She tensed and waited until I left to pick it up.

“Do you like it?”

For the first time that evening she shifted her gaze from the dolls to me. “He’s still going to come.”

My nerves flared on edge. It was never a good thing when she talked so clearly. “Who is going to come?”

She returned to humming. It was such a soft jingle, light and melodious, but as I sat in the bare room with the light bulb swinging back and forth and Detective White looking for evidence of two murders, the humming shoved me over the edge. “Who is going to come, Dayanara?”

She rocked in place and held the yellow paper close to her chest. “Who else would cut those girls that way? Who else?”

“Mr. Castillo, I think we have something here. It’s hollow in this area and there is a weird smell coming from here.” Detective White knocked in the corner of the room. “Do I have your permission to undo these planks?”

“Go ahead.”

Dayanara hummed, stopped, and whispered, “Mama was right. I should have never buried him. He was supposed to burn like all the rest. I didn’t say the words.”

Wood cracked behind me. Detective White had pulled out some weird metal tool and had part of the board lifted. The room filled with the odor of rotten food and the smell of a decaying bird left in the middle of the street. I covered my nose with my arm and breathed out of my mouth.

Detective White peered in and jumped back. “Oh Mother Mary, you don’t want to see this.”

“What is it?”

“The two girls’ missing vaginas.”

Chapter 19

Elle

I went back to my bedroom, realizing Alvarez would probably not be returning any time soon. When he told me he didn’t have time to search for his true love, I’d figured it was a line or some BS excuse. But it was true. He really didn’t have the time. Managing his family had kept him up all day and dragged him out of bed in our moment of passion, a moment I was happy to be interrupted.

Just like him, I didn’t have time for love. I needed to focus on why I was here, not love or another man’s arms to take my mind off Michael. How easy it had been to lay in Alvarez’s bed, sleep next to him, and wake up to his lips and fingertips all over me.

A week of Michael and I being separated hasn’t even passed and I’m already with another man. Just like those self-help books said, I have a dependent personality.