When they were first married, Desireé thought that there was something going on between them. But in time she told Carmen that nothing could be farther from the truth. Carmen got out of her car and walked toward the house as the rain began to fall. Melissa gave Carmen a little hug and rushed her in the house and out of the rain. After chastising Carmen for not having an umbrella or anything to cover her head, Melissa showed her to Desireé's room. Carmen walked into the room and was taken immediately at how much the room looked like Desireé's room at their parent’s house. She stopped and looked around.
“This is their bedroom?”
“No, Ms. Taylor. Mrs. Ferguson preferred to sleep alone sometimes, and besides,” Melissa said as she walked to the closet and opened it. “She needed the closet space.” Melissa walked up to Carmen and stopped right in front of her. Closer than Carmen was comfortable with. Melissa smiled at her in a way that made Carmen uncomfortable. “Make yourself comfortable, stay as long as you want. If you need me just use the intercom,” she said pointing to the device on the wall. “Will you still be here at four, Ms. Taylor? I'm preparing Uccelli Scappati for Mr. Ferguson. He was hoping you would join him.”
“No, I'll probably just be here an hour,” Carmen replied, as Melissa started to leave the room. “By the way, what is Uccelli Scappati?”
“It's broiled veal and bacon on a skewer with a pinch of rosemary, served with gravy.” Melissa answered as she left Carmen alone.
“Oh, with a pinch of rosemary,” Carmen said with attitude. “Like I should know what Uccelli Scappati is,” she said shaking her head and locking the bedroom door. Carmen walked into her sister’s closet. It was like looking at the rack at Saks Fifth Avenue. She came out of the closet and sat down on the bed. That's when she saw them.
Standing on the dresser was three framed pictures, each of her and Desireé. The first was of them at the pool in the back yard. Carmen remembered that after the picture was taken, Desireé pushed her in the deep end and she almost drowned. The second was taken before they went to their first debutante ball. The night of her first kiss. Her eyes began to water as Carmen picked up the third picture. It was taken on her last trip to Atlanta. That was the last
time Carmen saw Desireé.
She cried.
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, she thought, wiping the tears from her eyes. I need to find what I'm looking for and get out of here.
Carmen opened the dresser drawer and went through it. In the back of the bottom drawer Carmen found a stack of letters Desireé had banded together. She put them in her bag and moved on to the desk in the corner of the room by the French doors.
Carmen opened the door so she could hear the rain come down while she waited for the computer to boot up. She liked listening to the Rain; it made her feel at peace with herself, and she needed peace as she rifled though the desk drawers. Carmen found Desireé's phone book and flipped through it, before putting it in her bag. When the computer prompted her for a password, Carmen slumped down in the chair. She tried Desireé's birthday, that didn't work. Since their old address was her password, she tried that, no joy.
Come on, Dez, what's your password?
Carmen sat back and sat up just as quickly. Carmen typed m e r c e d e s, on the keyboard.
Thanks Dez. You wouldn't wanna tell me who killed you?
Carmen rambled through the desk again until she found some blank disks. Carmen logged into Desireé's email and forwarded all the mail in her inbox and sent mail to herself. She would read them all later. She looked at the last ten files Desireé had opened. They were all word documents. Carmen put the disk in the computer, and began copying the files in her document folder. Then opened the first document. It was a letter to Roland. Telling him that she was going to meet India to see a play and have drinks, and that she would be home after one. Carmen checked the files properties; it was created, modified, accessed, and printed two days before Desireé was murdered. Then Carmen noticed a file named, Hi big Sis.doc. She opened it.
It read;
FROM INSIDE THE SOUL OF DESIREÉ TAYLOR FERGUSON
Hi big Sis,
I bet you're surprised to be reading a letter from Desireé Marie Taylor, when you talk to her every day, but I wanted to tell you about some things that have been on my mind, things I don't get a chance to say or can't say because I'm not always alone when we talk. Especially since you're in Europe and we talk at such weird hours. But the main thing I want to tell you is that I miss you. I understand why you live where you live. Your mother is a trip, but I miss my best friend, the only real friend I ever had. Everybody around me is so phony to the point that they make me fell phony. I don't love and my so called friends just use me for money and my body. But you know there's nothing new or unusual about that.
I need you Carmen. I need your strength. I need Carmen the sneak. There's so much I have to tell you, about me and about what's going on around here these days. I think somebody is
The letter ended there. Carmen quickly checked the properties; it was created, modified, accessed at 6:47 PM on the day Desireé was murdered. Carmen closed the document and glanced over at the pictures on the dresser.
You were trying to tell me.
Carmen fought the urge to cry again and took the disk out of the computer, turned it off and got out of there. She ran down the steps, as fast as she could dressed like she was, and ran right into Melissa.
“I didn't think you'd be up there long. When my sister died and I had to go through her stuff it took me a month and I cried every time,” she said walking Carmen to the door. “But you come back any time you want to. Take all the time you need.”
It was still raining quite hard when Melissa opened the door. Melissa handed Carmen an umbrella and a matching scarf. “Take these; they were Mrs. Ferguson’s favorite. She wouldn't want you to get wet.”
“Thank you,” Carmen said and was crying before she could finish tying the scarf. Melissa hugged and kissed Carmen on the cheek. She ran to her car and sat there for a while.
Once she had it back together, she made the drive back to her hotel. Carmen broke out her laptop and logged onto the Internet. She made a mailing list of the people that sent Desireé email and named it friends of Desireé Ferguson.
To: friends of Desireé Ferguson
From: Carmen Taylor [email protected]