| Mystery and Crime Fiction posted October 18, 2024 | Chapters: |
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Fiona feels Sharice crossed the line
A chapter in the book The Empty Chair
The Empty Chair Chap 3
by Begin Again
As he entered the library, Fiona sat near the fireplace with a book on her lap. She raised her head when he entered. "Sorry for the interruption, Fiona." He pulled out his notebook and pen. "Where were we before I had to leave?"
Fiona moved closer, putting the book on the table and folding her hands in her lap. She smiled at the detective. "Before we go on, I think there's something important you should know. It's about my sister."
Sharice carried a tray of coffee cups and a coffee pot as she entered the library. Hearing Fiona, her heart skipped, and she froze, stopping at the doorway. She glared at her sister. "What could you have to say about me that the detective would find worthy of hearing?"
"Oh, don't act surprised, Sharice." Fiona's voice was soft, almost pitying. "It's time we're honest about everything."
Sharice placed the tray on the table, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
"I'm talking about the pregnancy, of course." Fiona's words came out in a gentle, almost apologetic tone. She turned to Detective Harris. "Please, Detective, don't be too hard on her. Sharice has been under so much stress lately."
Detective Harris raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from one sister to another. "Pregnancy?"
Sharice felt her pulse quicken. "That's ridiculous," she said quickly. "I'm not pregnant."
Fiona sighed, shaking her head. "You can deny it, but I saw the test. And when I tried to help her, she got angry and snatched it away so no one else would know." Fiona's eyes filled with concern. "She's been so secretive about it."
Sharice stared at her, dumbfounded. "I did no such thing! Fiona, what are you even talking about?"
"I found the test in the bathroom, dear. I was curious, but you threw it away."
Detective Harris looked sharply at Sharice. "Is this true?"
"No! I don't know what she's talking about!" To keep her composure, she turned to the detective. "She's lying, Detective. She's just trying to confuse things and make me look bad."
"Am I?" Fiona tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "You were the last one to see Peyton, after all. And you've been acting so strangely since then."
Sharice felt her stomach drop. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Fiona shrugged, looking helpless. "I'm just worried about you, Sharice. You haven't been yourself. I thought — well, maybe everything with Peyton got too much for you."
Sharice's anger boiled over. "Stop it, Fiona! You know none of that's true!"
Detective Harris kept his expression neutral as he watched the exchange. Fiona's calm state sharply contrasted with her sister's agitated stance. Still, a nagging sense tugged at him. People don't break that easily under accusations unless they have something to hide or are being lied about. His gaze lingered on Sharice, her crossed arms and flaring nostrils betraying more than mere frustration. Was Fiona baiting her? Or was she afraid of being exposed?
A hint of satisfaction flickered in Fiona's eyes. She leaned forward in the wheelchair and spoke softly, "Detective, in my attempt to protect Sharice, I have neglected to tell you the truth." she turned her head, staring at the window for a moment, before speaking again, "I — I saw —" she paused and studied her hands. "It was late one night. I couldn't sleep, so I wheeled myself back to the library and read near the window. I saw Peyton — and he wasn't alone."
Sharice froze. She could feel Fiona's words like a knife in her back.
Detective Harris frowned. "Who was he with?"
Fiona smiled, her gaze shifted as she glared at Sharice. "The woman with Peyton looked an awful lot like my dear sister."
Sharice's eyes widened. "That's ridiculous! I wasn't with Peyton. Fiona, why are you saying these things? First, you tell the detective I'm pregnant, and then you lie about me being with Peyton."
Fiona raised her hands as if blocking Sharice's anger. "I'm just saying what I saw. Maybe I was mistaken, or maybe —" She let her words trail off.
Frustrated, Sharice turned to Detective Harris, unable to control her anger. "I have no idea why my sister is telling you these lies, but it's not true." She pointed at the leather book on the table. "She gets these crazy ideas for that. The author plants the seed, and she makes it grow."
"Nonsense, Sharice! Do you expect the detective to believe that one of Poe's stories has made me one of his diabolical characters?" She shook her head and whined, "Isn't being in a wheelchair enough torture?"
Sharice's eyes burned with unshed tears, but her voice grew louder. 'You've always done this! Always! Just twisting everything to make me the villain. I'm done with it, Fiona."
"Let's keep this civil, ladies." Standing, he placed his notebook in his pocket. "Maybe we should take some time to cool off. It's been a tough day for everyone. If either of you remember anything else, please let me know."
Fiona's lips curved into a small smile. "Of course, Detective. I'm always here to help."
Still trembling, Sharice stepped toward the doorway, "I'll see you out, Detective."
On the front porch, the detective stopped to speak to Sharice, "It's been a rough day for everyone. Get some rest. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."
Sharice nodded. "Good night, Detective."
The rusty hinges on the front gate creaked, and a female officer entered the yard.
Detective Harris recognized her as part of the forensic team. "Everything wrapped up next door?"
The officer nodded. "Yes, sir. Forensics is finishing inside and should leave in a few minutes." The woman glanced at Sharice and then back to Harris. "I'll see you back at the station."
"Sure thing."
The officer hesitated. "I think I saw you at the medical building the other day. I was there for my check-up, too."
Sharice's eyes widened, and she stammered, "It wasn't — sorry, you must be mistaken."
The officer shrugged. "It was someone who sure looked like you. No matter." She gave a polite nod to Harris and walked off, leaving the words hanging in the air.
Detective Harris tipped his hat as he moved off the porch, but before he left, Sharice stepped in front of him, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You shouldn't believe anything Fiona says," she insisted. "She's twisting everything."
Harris stared into her eyes before answering, "We'll sort it out, Sharice. Just—"
"Just what?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You think I'd hurt Peyton? That I'm pregnant? That's absurd!"
"Good night," he replied curtly, stepping past her and opening the gate. Walking toward his car, he wondered why Sharice lied about being at the medical building. He trusted his officer to know what she saw.
*****
As he entered the library, Fiona sat near the fireplace with a book on her lap. She raised her head when he entered. "Sorry for the interruption, Fiona." He pulled out his notebook and pen. "Where were we before I had to leave?"
Fiona moved closer, putting the book on the table and folding her hands in her lap. She smiled at the detective. "Before we go on, I think there's something important you should know. It's about my sister."
Sharice carried a tray of coffee cups and a coffee pot as she entered the library. Hearing Fiona, her heart skipped, and she froze, stopping at the doorway. She glared at her sister. "What could you have to say about me that the detective would find worthy of hearing?"
"Oh, don't act surprised, Sharice." Fiona's voice was soft, almost pitying. "It's time we're honest about everything."
Sharice placed the tray on the table, her eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"
"I'm talking about the pregnancy, of course." Fiona's words came out in a gentle, almost apologetic tone. She turned to Detective Harris. "Please, Detective, don't be too hard on her. Sharice has been under so much stress lately."
Detective Harris raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from one sister to another. "Pregnancy?"
Sharice felt her pulse quicken. "That's ridiculous," she said quickly. "I'm not pregnant."
Fiona sighed, shaking her head. "You can deny it, but I saw the test. And when I tried to help her, she got angry and snatched it away so no one else would know." Fiona's eyes filled with concern. "She's been so secretive about it."
Sharice stared at her, dumbfounded. "I did no such thing! Fiona, what are you even talking about?"
"I found the test in the bathroom, dear. I was curious, but you threw it away."
Detective Harris looked sharply at Sharice. "Is this true?"
"No! I don't know what she's talking about!" To keep her composure, she turned to the detective. "She's lying, Detective. She's just trying to confuse things and make me look bad."
"Am I?" Fiona tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "You were the last one to see Peyton, after all. And you've been acting so strangely since then."
Sharice felt her stomach drop. "What does that have to do with anything?"
Fiona shrugged, looking helpless. "I'm just worried about you, Sharice. You haven't been yourself. I thought — well, maybe everything with Peyton got too much for you."
Sharice's anger boiled over. "Stop it, Fiona! You know none of that's true!"
Detective Harris kept his expression neutral as he watched the exchange. Fiona's calm state sharply contrasted with her sister's agitated stance. Still, a nagging sense tugged at him. People don't break that easily under accusations unless they have something to hide or are being lied about. His gaze lingered on Sharice, her crossed arms and flaring nostrils betraying more than mere frustration. Was Fiona baiting her? Or was she afraid of being exposed?
A hint of satisfaction flickered in Fiona's eyes. She leaned forward in the wheelchair and spoke softly, "Detective, in my attempt to protect Sharice, I have neglected to tell you the truth." she turned her head, staring at the window for a moment, before speaking again, "I — I saw —" she paused and studied her hands. "It was late one night. I couldn't sleep, so I wheeled myself back to the library and read near the window. I saw Peyton — and he wasn't alone."
Sharice froze. She could feel Fiona's words like a knife in her back.
Detective Harris frowned. "Who was he with?"
Fiona smiled, her gaze shifted as she glared at Sharice. "The woman with Peyton looked an awful lot like my dear sister."
Sharice's eyes widened. "That's ridiculous! I wasn't with Peyton. Fiona, why are you saying these things? First, you tell the detective I'm pregnant, and then you lie about me being with Peyton."
Fiona raised her hands as if blocking Sharice's anger. "I'm just saying what I saw. Maybe I was mistaken, or maybe —" She let her words trail off.
Frustrated, Sharice turned to Detective Harris, unable to control her anger. "I have no idea why my sister is telling you these lies, but it's not true." She pointed at the leather book on the table. "She gets these crazy ideas for that. The author plants the seed, and she makes it grow."
"Nonsense, Sharice! Do you expect the detective to believe that one of Poe's stories has made me one of his diabolical characters?" She shook her head and whined, "Isn't being in a wheelchair enough torture?"
Sharice's eyes burned with unshed tears, but her voice grew louder. 'You've always done this! Always! Just twisting everything to make me the villain. I'm done with it, Fiona."
"Let's keep this civil, ladies." Standing, he placed his notebook in his pocket. "Maybe we should take some time to cool off. It's been a tough day for everyone. If either of you remember anything else, please let me know."
Fiona's lips curved into a small smile. "Of course, Detective. I'm always here to help."
Still trembling, Sharice stepped toward the doorway, "I'll see you out, Detective."
On the front porch, the detective stopped to speak to Sharice, "It's been a rough day for everyone. Get some rest. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."
Sharice nodded. "Good night, Detective."
The rusty hinges on the front gate creaked, and a female officer entered the yard.
Detective Harris recognized her as part of the forensic team. "Everything wrapped up next door?"
The officer nodded. "Yes, sir. Forensics is finishing inside and should leave in a few minutes." The woman glanced at Sharice and then back to Harris. "I'll see you back at the station."
"Sure thing."
The officer hesitated. "I think I saw you at the medical building the other day. I was there for my check-up, too."
Sharice's eyes widened, and she stammered, "It wasn't — sorry, you must be mistaken."
The officer shrugged. "It was someone who sure looked like you. No matter." She gave a polite nod to Harris and walked off, leaving the words hanging in the air.
Detective Harris tipped his hat as he moved off the porch, but before he left, Sharice stepped in front of him, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "You shouldn't believe anything Fiona says," she insisted. "She's twisting everything."
Harris stared into her eyes before answering, "We'll sort it out, Sharice. Just—"
"Just what?" she shot back, her voice rising. "You think I'd hurt Peyton? That I'm pregnant? That's absurd!"
"Good night," he replied curtly, stepping past her and opening the gate. Walking toward his car, he wondered why Sharice lied about being at the medical building. He trusted his officer to know what she saw.
*****
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