[Continued from THOSE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES. (Part IV)]
Mrs. Norbury! Eliza, what have you done! Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. Eliza choked, sobbed, slid down to the floor, crying bitterly. Mother! Mother! She sobbed. She got up. Something has to be done.
She gulped and dialed Mrs. Norbury’s number again. After a few moments, the same hoarse voice answered.
“Hello there… I was expecting you’d call again.”
“Who are you? And what do you want?” Eliza asked with as little emotion as she could manage.
The man laughed. It was a sound Eliza would never like to listen to again.
“Give us the journals.”
“They belong to my mother. Why should I hand them over to you?”
“Because we are asking for them.”
“What if I don’t?!”
“You’ve got to have guts to be asking that, Eliza…”
Eliza inhaled sharply.
“Your mother was a vile creature. She has ruined lives in her time. It was only fitting that she got what she deserves… What goes around comes back around, eh?”
“Wh-What are you talking about?”
The man exhaled, “That’s enough chit-chat for one time…” A pause. “Its sad that Mrs. Norbury had to pay the price for somebody else’s fault. She was useful to us; easily influenced, easily scared…”
Eliza got the feel that the man was thinking out loud and not really talking to her.
“Am I boring you?”
The question startled her. “Is there any right answer for that?”
“Ha! Oh Eliza, you’re as smart as you’re pretty. It’d be a pity, killing you. Stop digging or I’ll have to pull the trigger.”
Eliza didn’t reply.
“No answer. Hmm. I’ll take that as an assent, in your interests of course.”
“You still didn’t tell me what you mea-”
The call had been disconnected.
Revenge is a dish best served cold.
You’ll do good to remember that.
Revenge? What for? What was it that her mother had protected her from? She went to the cafe, and opened her mother’s journals once again. She noticed that towards the older entries, many pages had been torn away or the ink was smudged and words indecipherable. She skipped pages and torn evidences of those that were, and came to the entry dated March 14th, 1992.
The ink smudges – were they intentional? They hide the name – the key, pehaps – very smartly.
“I don’t want her to get into it.” Eliza repeated to herself. So what? I’m supposed to just drop it all and sit back?
[Continued in THOSE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES. (Part VI)]