Burn It to the Ground

Maura’s POV.

The second Mrs. Taylor had definitely been the decorator of the house, was seeing the walls of the living room were covered in bright, floral wallpaper and the couches were covered in a thick plastic cover. I struggled to stay sitting upright, constantly slipping and sliding around next to Kassia, who was doing much better at the near-impossible task.

“I understand this is hard, Mr. Taylor, but you need to tell us everything.” My sister soothed, resting a hand on the knee of Michael Taylor and using her caring voice, a huge change from her attitude yesterday. But then again I had a feeling that this interview she was conducting-I preferred to leave her to this part-was fifty-percent compassion, fifty-percent seduction. But hey, whatever got us the answers we needed. I had to say though; he was biting into the seduction part much more eagerly than a man should when he just loses his second wife in a row. “My poor wife,” He began, sighing as true grief momentarily filled his grey-blue eyes. He stood up and walked over to a dark wood library table that was currently acting as some sort of shrine to his second wife, Elizabeth; there were vases of various flowers aligned on the surface, probably brought by friends and a framed picture of a roughly forty-year old woman in one of those set up photographs, complete with the heavily hair sprayed hair and pearls as she flashed the camera a toothy smile. She was pretty though, and looked as though she had already had plenty of facelifts in her life. No doubt paid for by her loving older husband.

Nevertheless, he picked up the picture and gazed at it longingly. I wondered which he was missing; the woman or the face. “I found her hanging from the ceiling fan-” He said, and I wondered how he could possibly think that was new news to us “-In her wedding dress.” Okay, that was different.

“Did she act strangely before it happened?” I asked, resting my chin in my hand as I propped an elbow up against the slippery material in hopes of staying upright. To my complete and utter surprise, the elderly man laughed.

“You have to understand my Elizabeth. She had always been a bit off I suppose; complained every now and then about feeling like someone was watching her at night. But no one’s perfect, right?” My sister and I nodded in unison, eager for him to continue. And he did. “She just got worse as the years passed…Slowly at first. But…These last few weeks she was in a downward spiral. I wanted to get her help, I just…She said-” He cleared his throat, his voice becoming more of a croak as he recalled his wife’s last days.

“It’s important we know everything, Mr. Taylor, even the smallest details can be put to good use.” Kassia assured Michael, who just turned away from us to review the picture again. “She said she saw Diana.”
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Sam’s POV.

We hadn’t even left the late Henry Gresham’s house, feeling on-edge after the gory scene, before both mine and my brother’s phones started ringing furiously, demanding attention and cutting through the otherwise quiet and peaceful late morning. I glanced at my screen and saw Maura Valentine on the caller ID and knew before Dean said it that Kassia was calling him. “Well,” He said before he answered it, letting it blare for a second longer “guess they found something worth sharing?”

He flipped his phone open and answered with some vaguely suggestive line. I did the same only without the line. Not that I really had a chance:

“Elizabeth Taylor claimed to have seen Diana Taylor before she died!” Maura announced in a rush before I even said anything. The news struck me with surprise and I glanced quickly at my brother, whose jaw might as well have been on the ground. Guess Kassia had just told him the exact same thing Maura had told me.

Of course, there was always the possibility that Elizabeth had just been completely off her rocker. But after the creepy carving on Henry Gresham’s counter, it seemed less and less likely that that was the case.