Free Time of Death by Shirley Kennett Page A

remember is that I’m in the water in our pool. I’m holding on to a tube around my stomach that’s holding me up. I’m inside it, like I’m the hole of a doughnut. If I let go, I will slip down into the water and never come up. I can’t think of anything but holding onto that tube. I hate the water.
    My sister is close by, moving through the water, forward and backward in the pool. I can’t figure out how she does it. It looks like she’s pulling herself through the water. I don’t know how to do that. If I let go of the tube, I will go down under the water. She stops by me and presses my nose and gives me a big smile. I smile back because I think she’s going to take me out, so I won’t lose the tube.
    She puts her hands on the tube and I’m very happy. Then she pushes down. The tube goes under the water. I’m holding on and I go down, too. I scream and water pours into my mouth. My eyes are open and I see her legs under the water. She’s right there. I reach for her and the tube slips away from me. There is nothing holding me up and water is in my mouth and nose. I scream, but I only get more water in my mouth.
    I feel her hands grab me. She pulls me up and puts me in the tube. I am spitting water out of my mouth and I can’t get any air. I’m so sick and scared. She starts to go forward and backward in the pool again. I know that soon she will stop by me and push my tube down. I can’t do anything. I can’t get away. I’m sick and scared.
    That’s the first memory I have of my sister.

Chapter 10
    P J HADN’T SEEN HER son since early in the morning, and that was only a quick glance into his room, where he was sprawled across his bed. As usual, Megabite had claimed his pillow, causing Thomas’s upper body to hang off the bed to avoid disturbing the cat. That was the image of him she’d retained all day.
    She pulled her faded blue VW Rabbit convertible into the driveway of her home. It was a story-and-a-half on Magnolia Avenue, one of the smaller homes in the Shaw neighborhood. That made it affordable for a newly-divorced professional woman. PJ had started out renting the place, but fell in love with it and bought it when the owner decided to sell. It had wood floors, stained glass windows, a fireplace, and two bedrooms upstairs. The private yard had an intimate feel and beautiful perennial plantings that PJ had maintained. She could walk to Tower Grove Park, and often did when the pond lilies were in bloom.
    And there was that driveway, allowing her off-street parking.
    The house was dark, but a porch light had been left on for her around back. She touched the pane of glass in the back door out of habit, the pane shattered by a bullet that saved her from a psychopathic killer. Some people would have moved to get away from the reminder of an event like that, but in PJ’s case, it strengthened her.
    Track lights in the kitchen bathed the space in light. The smells of pizza and popcorn greeted her nose, and she smiled. The smells of normality.
    Megabite appeared from nowhere and rubbed against her leg, meowing and showing off her honey-gold eyes. Obediently, PJ bent down to pet her. The cat rose on tiptoe and arched her back under PJ’s hand. The young cat looked like different cats depending on the angle of viewing. Seen from the top, she was gray tiger-striped. From the underneath, she was pure white. Seen from the side, there was a horizontal band of orange fur on all four legs that neatly divided gray and white. The white tip of her tail was very expressive, and at the moment, it was expressing Food.
    “Oh, Meg, I’m sure you’ve been fed a dozen times today,” PJ said. Thomas loved the cat as much as she did. Being a teenager, he assumed that the cat needed to eat every hour, like he did. PJ put down a bowl of remnants of a roast beef sandwich. Megabite purred her approval and went to work.
    PJ walked further into the house, looking for Thomas. The study door was closed, but there was a line