Finding Laura

This scene is from the end of chapter 2 and the beginning of chapter 3 of Killer Cables. Eric and Megan are walking to Laura Pingle’s house to reunite her with her beloved corgi, Sophie, and pick up some dog sweaters that Laura knit to benefit an upcoming police fundraiser.

I copied and pasted the original scene as told from Megan’s point of view (in case it’s been a while since you’ve read the first book in the series), and the scene as told from Eric’s point of view follows. I hope you enjoy this first hand glimpse into Eric’s thoughts and feelings.

Megan’s point of view

We climb the two steps to Laura’s porch. 

“Here we are,” I declare.

“Her driveway is spotless,” Eric observes. “The other driveways all have some snow on them, but hers is snowless. Phillip must shovel her snow. Did he make these urns too? They’re amazing,” he says, gesturing toward the large metal urns on either side of the porch that contain beautifully arranged, seasonal foliage. 

There is real garland decking the roof above the garage and porch, and window boxes with sprigs of evergreen and clusters of holly. It’s like being at a photoshoot for Better Homes & Gardens. 

“Yes,” I say. “I’m guessing Phillip takes care of the outside of the house.”

“He does a beautiful job. His own house must be awesome,” Eric speculates.

“It is,” I confirm.

I look at Phillip’s perfectly landscaped yard and garden every day since we’re next-door neighbours. 

“No matter how hard I try to maintain my yard and garden to his standard, I feel like my house is the before and his house is the after on a landscaping reality show.”

Sophie is whimpering and bouncing, her little paws tippy tapping in anticipation. I notice there’s mail in the mailbox, so I take it out to bring it into the house. 

“In case two weeks’ worth of mail isn’t enough for her to read?” Eric asks jokingly when I take the envelopes from the mailbox. 

I turn the doorknob then stop and let go when I feel my body tense up. I take a deep breath. 

“Heavy shoulders, long arms,” I mutter. 

A trick I learned years ago from a yoga instructor to release tension in the neck and shoulders. 

Eric puts a hand on my arm. 

“Are you OK, Megan?”

“The last time I let myself into a neighbour’s home, I found a dead body, remember?” 

“The odds of that happening again are next to impossible,” he says in a gentle, reassuring tone. “Most people never discover a dead body. It’s a rare occurrence. The odds of it happening twice to the same person would be miniscule. How about this? I’ll go in first, make sure everything is OK, then you follow.”

He’s right, the chances of Laura being dead are slim to none, and slim just left town, as my dad would say. 

Statistically, I’m probably more likely to get struck by lightning, or bitten by a shark, than I am to find another dead body. 

“Thank you, but I’ll go in first. You’re right. It’ll be fine. And she’s never met you. It might scare her to see your giant six-foot frame suddenly appear in her house.”

I kick the snow off my boots against the brick wall next to the door, then bend down and detach Sophie’s leash. I open the door and Sophie tears into the house and down the hall.

As I walk into the house, Sophie lets out a high-pitched, excited yelp and disappears around the corner, into the kitchen.

“Hi, Laura!” I shout from the foyer, “I have more mail for you. I’ll bring it in and add it to your pile.” 

I bend down to take off my boots. 

“Sophie missed you so much. You should’ve seen how excited she was when she realized where we were going.” 

On the table by the door, I see the bag of dog sweaters with Amy’s name on it. I point it out to Eric, put Sophie’s leash on the table next to it, and walk down the hall toward the kitchen.

“Laura, I brought Eric with me. He’s picking up the dog sweaters for the auction.” 

As I’m about to walk from the kitchen to the family room, I hear Sophie whining and making whimpering sounds. 

In the family room, Sophie is crying and pacing back and forth in front of Laura’s chair. 

“Oh, you’re asleep,” I whisper. 

Sophie whines and puts her front paws on Laura’s chair. 

“Shhhh.” I raise my index finger to my mouth to shush her. “Let her sleep, Sophie.”

Laura is asleep in the chair with her casted leg elevated and resting on a cushion on the ottoman in front of her. 

I approach Laura, and add the mail I brought to the pile of mail beside the empty coffee mug on the table beside her, and look carefully at her sleeping face. 

You are sleeping, right, Laura? 

Hello, knot! I get a knot in my stomach when something isn’t right. It’s one of the things my intuition does to get my attention. The last time the knot formed in my stomach was when I found a dead body. 

I touch Laura’s wrist. It’s not as warm as it should be, and I can’t detect a pulse. 

No. Please, no. Not again. Please not again. Not Laura. Not today. 

“Laura?” 

Gently, I squeeze her hand.

“Laura, can you hear me?” I ask softly.

I shake her hand. 

“Laura! wake up!” I shout. 

Her chest isn’t rising and falling. 

She’s dead. 

“Eric!” I scream, “I think she’s dead!” 

He runs around the corner from the kitchen and checks for a pulse in her neck. His phone is already to his ear, and he’s calling for help. 

I’m having flashbacks to the last time this happened, and I struggle to inhale deeply enough.

How can this be happening again? 

I step backwards into the kitchen and turn, so I’m not looking at Laura, while I try to regulate my breathing. I notice a coffee mug on the drying rack beside the sink, so I focus my gaze on it while I breathe in 1...2...3...4… and breathe out 1...2...3...4… 

Feeling a bit more composed, I turn back to Laura and Eric. 

He’s still on the phone. I put my hand on the kitchen table to steady myself and notice a light purple, slightly faded, card-sized envelope with a yellow sticky note stuck to it. The sticky note says, I believe this belongs to you! and the words are underlined twice. 

Laura’s knee scooter is next to the kitchen table, and her cordless phone is on the table next to the purple envelope. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket and snap photos of the envelope with the sticky note, the knee scooter, the cordless phone, and the mug on the drying rack. They seem important, though right now, I’m not sure why. 

I also snap a photo of the mug and the mail on the table next to Laura, being careful not to get any of Laura in the photo. 

I look back at the knee scooter. Phillip said something about the knee scooter. What was it he said?

Sophie distracts me. She’s pacing frantically in front of Laura’s chair and lets out a shrill yelp. I walk over, scoop her up, and walk to the front door where I attach her leash. She’s still wearing her sweater and must be warm. And confused. I know I am. 

I carry her back to the kitchen and ask Eric what he needs me to do. He tells me to wait outside and flag down the first responders when they arrive.

Eric’s point of view

We climb the two steps to Laura Pingle’s porch. 

“Here we are,” Megan declares, smiling.

“Her driveway is spotless,” I observe. “The other driveways have snow on them, but hers is snowless. Phillip must shovel her snow. Did he make these urns too? They’re amazing.” I gesture toward the large metal urns on either side of the porch that contain beautifully arranged, seasonal foliage. 

Real garland decks the roof above the garage and porch. The window boxes are filled with sprigs of evergreen and clusters of holly. It’s like a photoshoot for Better Homes & Gardens. 

“Yes,” she agrees. “I’m guessing Phillip takes care of the outside of the house.”

“He does a beautiful job. His own house must be awesome,” I speculate.

“It is,” Megan confirms.

I forgot that Megan looks at Phillip’s perfectly landscaped yard and garden every day since they’re next-door neighbours. 

“No matter how hard I try to maintain my yard and gardens to his standard, I feel like my house is the before and his house is the after on a landscaping reality show,” she admits, sounding defeated. 

Sophie whimpers and her little paws tippy tap in anticipation. Megan points out the mail sticking out of the mailbox and collects it to bring it into the house. 

“In case two weeks’ worth of mail isn’t enough for her to read?” I ask jokingly when she takes the envelopes from the mailbox. 

When Megan turns the doorknob, I sense she’s hesitant. She stops turning and releases the doorknob. Her body is more tense than it was a moment ago. She inhales deeply.

“Heavy shoulders, long arms,” she mutters. 

A trick she learned years ago from a yoga instructor to release tension in the neck and shoulders. I’ve used it a few times myself, since she showed me. 

I put my hand on her arm. “Are you OK, Megan?”

“The last time I let myself into a neighbour’s home, I found a dead body, remember?”

Of course, she’s hesitant. She acts like she’s over it, like finding a dead body was no big deal. But obviously, it still affects her.

“The odds of that happening again are next to impossible,” I say in the most reassuring voice I can muster. “Most people never discover a dead body. It’s a rare occurrence. The odds of it happening twice to the same person would be miniscule. How about this? I’ll go in first, make sure everything is OK, then you follow.”

She bites her bottom lip while she considers my suggestion. She inhales sharply, stands up a little straighter, and smiles at me. 

“Thank you,” she replies, “but I’ll go in first. You’re right. It’ll be fine. And Laura’s never met you. It might scare her to see your giant six-foot frame suddenly appear in her house.”

We kick the snow off our boots against the brick wall next to the door. Megan bends down and detaches Sophie’s leash. She opens the door and Sophie tears into the house and down the hall.

As we step into the house, Sophie lets out a high-pitched, excited yelp and disappears around the corner, into the kitchen.

“Hi, Laura!” Megan shouts cheerfully from the foyer, “I have more mail for you. I’ll bring it in and add it to your pile.” She slips out of her boots. “Sophie missed you so much. You should’ve seen how excited she was when she realized where we were going.” 

Megan points to the bag of dog sweaters on the table by the door; the reason we came here. She looks at me while she points to it, making sure I see it. I nod and smile. “Wait here,” she mouths, then she puts Sophie’s leash on the table, and walks down the hall toward the kitchen. 

I hang back in the foyer, taking off my boots and waiting for Megan to call me into the room where Laura is sitting, nursing her broken leg. 

“Laura, I brought Eric with me. He’s picking up the dog sweaters for the auction.” Megan’s voice trails off as she walks through the kitchen and turns right into the family room. 

Sophie cries and whimpers. From where I stand, I watch her pace back and forth in the family room. Megan whispers something I can’t hear. Sophie's whine intensifies, and her top half disappears from view when she puts her front paws on something or someone. 

“Shhhh,” Megan says, then she whispers something I can’t hear. 

I don’t have a good feeling. My spidey senses are tingling. Something’s wrong. 

A few moments of awkward silence. I fight the urge to charge into the family room or shout and ask if everything is OK. I take two silent steps toward the kitchen. 

“Laura?” Megan’s voice is gentle, like she’s waking up someone who dozed off. 

Oh no. Now. I’m sure something is wrong. 

“Laura, can you hear me?” Megan’s voice is soft, but I sense an undertone of panic. 

I unlock my cell phone and bring up the number for the station. My thumb hovers over the send button. 

“Laura! Wake up!” Megan shouts. 

I hit send. 

      “Laura, can you hear me?” Megan asks.“Eric!” she screams. “I think she’s dead!”

I’m rounding the corner from the kitchen before she finishes calling my name. Holding my phone to my ear, I’m already talking to dispatch. 

Megan backs into the kitchen, then turns away from Laura’s lifeless body. She must be in shock. The next time she turns to face me, I’m still on the phone. Megan grabs the kitchen table to brace herself. I want to rush to her and steady her with my arm. I want to take care of her, but I have to talk to dispatch, and try to save Laura Pingle. 

Next time I glance up, Megan is using her phone to snap photos of Laura’s kitchen. I’ll ask her about it later. 

Sophie becomes more agitated. She’s pacing frantically in front of Laura’s chair and lets out a shrill yelp. Megan scoops her up and walks toward the front door. 

They reappear a moment later, Megan is still carrying Sophie, and the corgi’s leash is attached to her collar. Megan asks me how she can help. I tell her to wait outside and flag down the first responders when they arrive. She nods and hurries off. 

Are you ready for the next Knitorious Murder Mystery? You can find Murder & Merino: A Knitorious Murder Mystery book 3