Cereal Killer

Murray did show, but she figured she’d think of something when the time came.
    She didn’t have long to wait... or to think of any brilliant strategy. Because she had only been sitting there for twenty minutes—a relatively short time by surveillance standards—when she saw an older Honda pull up in front of the house.
    It approached slowly, as though the driver was being cautious, then came to a stop at the curb across the street. No one got out for what seemed like forever and a day to Savannah. Then, the door opened and a woman answering Dirk’s description exited the vehicle.
    She was carrying a large tote under her arm that appeared to be empty. Small, trim, with short dark hair, wearing surgical greens and a white sweater, she hurried across the street to Oates’s house, unlocked the door, and went inside.
    Savannah sat there a few minutes, allowing her to get involved in whatever she was doing inside the house.
    Then she reached into the back floorboard of her car and rummaged around until she found an empty paper bag that had contained her latest order of Avon.
    Opening her glove box, she pulled out a flashlight, a small package of tissues, and a couple of cassette tapes, and she popped them into the bag.
    Avon sack in hand, she got out of the car and walked the half block to the house.
    After ringing the doorbell, she waited and, as she had expected, no one answered. She could easily imagine the nerve-rattled Charlotte inside, quaking in her nurse’s shoes.
    “Hello?” she called out cheerfully. “Avon. Mrs. Winter-bourne, it’s me, your Avon lady. I have your skin softener and your bath gels.”
    No one answered. She didn’t hear a sound from inside the house. But she could instinctively feel the other woman just on the opposite side of the door.
    “Come on, Mrs. Winterbourne. I know you’re home. You’re always home at this time of day.” She rang the bell several more times in rapid succession and pounded with the brass door knocker. “You might as well answer, because I’m not going away until you answer this door.”
    Finally, the door opened just a crack. She could see that the woman inside had put on the chain. One eye peeped out at her, wide and frightened.
    “Go away,” she said. “You’ve got the wrong house. My brother lives here, not somebody named Winterbourne.”
    Savannah smiled and glanced down at the bag in her hand. “Then maybe this is his order.” She looked inside the sack. “Yes, now that I take another look, it’s some men’s shaving lotion and cologne. Is your brother named Jim?”
    ‘Yes, but he isn’t here right now, and you should leave,” she said, starting to shut the door.
    Quickly, Savannah shoved her foot in the crack, preventing her from closing it all the way. “You have to talk to me, Charlotte,” she said. “I can save your life, but not if you don’t talk to me... right now.”
    The eye that was peeping through the opening widened, then filled with tears. “Who are you really?” she said.
    “My name is Savannah Reid,” she told her.
    “And you don’t sell Avon.”
    “No, I don’t. I’m sorry I lied to you, but I had to get you to open the door for me.”
    “Are you a police officer?”
    “No. I’m a private detective. I’m not here to arrest you. I’m here to help you.” Savannah’s eyes pleaded with the nurse’s. And her voice was as soft as peach skin when she added, “Charlotte, if you’ve ever believed anybody and trusted anyone in your life, girl, you’d better trust me now and open up this door.”
    “But I can’t.” Charlotte began to sob. “I can’t talk to anybody. I have problems. Terrible problems.”
    “I know what you mean. So do I. We’re both just a couple of women in an awful situation. Let me inside, and we’ll talk. We can help each other. I promise you.” Savannah waited, not daring to breathe as the tortured woman weighed her options.
    “I don’t think anybody can help me now,” Charlotte said. “I think it’s all gone too far. It’s over. There’s no way that this can have a happy ending.”
    “You’re right about that,” Savannah said. “But maybe if we put our heads together, we can think of something we can do to keep it from getting any worse than it already is. Charlotte, let me inside. Let’s talk.”
    “Move your foot,” she said at long last.
    Savannah was afraid that if she moved her foot, she would get the door slammed in her face. But she couldn’t stand there