you would be a big help as I work on figuring out how to deal with this. As you’ve probably noticed in the blog, I’ve put in a good deal of personal information. I’m afraid if your husband really does decide to come after me, he won’t have any trouble finding me.
Sincerely,
Alison Reynolds
Dear Ali,
I’ve gone through Reenie’s backup files. There’s no sign there of any suicide note. None. I’ve also done my best to log on to Reenie’s e-mail account but without any luck. It’s possible she could have written it in there and printed it elsewhere.
I had better luck when it comes to Jasmine Wright, and some of it is very interesting. She was supposed to teach an evening American History class that night, but she didn’t show up. I found that out from a friend who works in the NAU administration office. Jasmine lives with two other women down in Munds Park-which is very close to the turnoff to Schnebly Hill Road, by the way.
I wasn’t able to get the exact address because they all get their mail at the post office, so tonight I did something I never thought I’d do. My friend told me which parking lot Jasmine uses. I waited there in the lot during her class. When she left, I followed her. Big surprise. She went straight to Howie Bernard’s house. I waited around for an hour or so, but she still hadn’t come out by the time I left.
Two things. How come she has a key? And if Reenie’s parents were having a reception or something tonight down in Cottonwood, how come Howie wasn’t there?
The YW’s day care will be open tomorrow morning, but they’re hoping to close early-at noon or so-so the teachers can come to Reenie’s funeral. I’ve decided I’m not coming in at all. See you in Cottonwood.
Andrea
Dear Andrea,
Good work on the address thing. And you’re right, Jasmine’s proximity to Schnebly Hill Road is very interesting.
As far as Reenie’s e-mail account is concerned, I’ll forward the information to my son. Chris was a computer expert on the day he was born. He may be able to figure it out even if we can’t.
Yes, see you at the funeral. Howie wasn’t at the Holzers’ place tonight for the very good reason that he wasn’t invited. It seems the word is out on Jasmine, and Reenie’s relatives are bent out of shape about it. I don’t blame them. I’m bent, too. The other night Jasmine had nerve enough to tell me she’d see me at the funeral. I can’t imagine she’ll actually show up.
Ali
Ali pulled the information from the Reenie file and sent it on to Chris. If he wasn’t studying, it would give him something to do the next morning while she was at the Sugarloaf and while he was waiting for his ride.
Dear Ali
Going through Lisa’s stuff out in the garage made me very sad. One of the first things I found was a beautiful greeting card. The background is deep blue. The foreground is three lush pink begonias. There was no envelope so I don’t have an address, but here’s what the card said.
Dear Lisa,
Thank you for the information. I’m so sorry it didn’t work for you the way you hoped it would. Please keep in touch.
Reenie
When I saw the card, I started to cry, for both Lisa and for Reenie. I couldn’t help it.
And then I found something else-a receipt for a cashiers check for $80,000 payable to Rodriguez Medical Center, Mazatlan, Mexico. I hope this information is helpful. In the meantime, now that I’ve started the job of sorting, I’m going to keep on. Thanks for getting me going. Otherwise the boxes would have sat here for years.
Louise Malkin
The sound of a bugle on-line told Ali she had an instant message from Chris.
Dear Mom,
Reenie’s password is Samantha. Duh!
Love,
Chris
Ali sent him an immediate thank-you. She was tempted to use it and log on right then, but she was tired. And she wanted to complete the next morning’s post before she went to bed, so she worked on that instead.
cutlooseblog.com
Friday, March 18, 2005
According to some sources, bloggers supposedly sit around in their pajamas irresponsibly posting outrageous things on their computers. I strenuously object to the use of the word “irresponsibly.” And I’m not convinced that anything I’ve said is “outrageous” either, although some of my readers may disagree with that assessment. But the pajama part? Absolutely! No question. I’m wearing them right now.
No matter how early I’m supposed to rise and shine, my interior body clock remains firmly stuck in the rhyme and rhythm of doing the late-night news. So even though I should have been in bed a long time ago, I’m not. Fatigue is going to set in big-time, probably right in the middle of the diner’s breakfast rush.
I spent the evening with my dead friend’s parents and with her two kids. Her husband, the children’s father, was evidently preoccupied with other matters. He didn’t attend. There was lots of food. No, make that mounds of food-although no one seemed interested in eating much of it.
While we all try to come to terms with having lost someone special from our lives, police agencies continue to investigate exactly what took her from us. And why. Most of the people who knew Reenie seem to have accepted the idea that she committed suicide in the face of her medical diagnosis. So far, I haven’t been able to do that. I still want to know what was going on in her life-and in her heart and mind-during her last few hours on earth. I don’t know why I want to know, but I do.
And so, although I still can’t believe my friend is gone, today is her funeral. Don’t be surprised if I don’t post later today or maybe even tomorrow. I probably won’t feel like it.
Posted 12:01 A.M. by Babe
She was about to sign off when there was New Mail click. When she checked, she recognized Corine Witherspoon’s Hotmail address.
Dear Babe,
Ben works construction. Mostly drywalling. He drives a green Datsun 710 station wagon with Texas plates. We were living in Lodi when I left, but we were behind in the rent on the apartment, so he probally isn’t there now. Take care.
Corine
Ali went to bed after reading the message. She didn’t go to sleep, at least not right away, and when she did finally slip into slumber, nightmares came hot and heavy. Someone was chasing her through the snowy woods, firing at her with a machine gun. As the bullets whined around her, Ali dove for cover. But the cover wasn’t there. She found herself tumbling and falling through the frigid air.
Even though the house was toasty warm, she woke up shivering.
Chapter 15
