Ch. 11 |Tea, Trauma, and the Stoop Gestapo

Sam and Auggie strolled the path near Lago Tierra’s event center. As they rounded the corner by her parents’ home, Sam noticed two men and a woman leaving a house. One of them was David—the HOA vice president—whom she’d seen with her father and Vesna the other day. The other two, judging by their posture and how they handled David, were likely law enforcement.

“Wanna know what’s going on over there,” a voice said behind her, making Sam jump.

She turned to find a petite woman, maybe in her late 60s, with more salt than pepper in her short hair. Beside her stood a crotchety-looking corgi, growling like it had a personal vendetta. One look at the dog’s cloudy eyes, and Sam guessed he was blind.

The woman wore a T-shirt that read Pothead, with a coffee pot perched atop a cartoon head.

Sam had a feeling this lady might be fun.

“Dunno,” Sam replied. “I like your shirt.”

“Thanks,” the woman smiled. “But I meant—do you want to know what’s going on over there?”

Consider me curious, Sam thought. “Sure. Why not?”

“Elaine,” the woman said, extending a hand. “And this is Jamison. He’s old, blind, and cranky—but harmless. Why don’t you both join us for a walk and I’ll fill you in?”

Sam wasn’t new to being adopted by older women in public. Despite her resting antisocial face, something about her made her a magnet for chatty retirees—especially white women who interpreted her presence as safe. Normally she knew how to dodge it, but Elaine seemed different. And let’s face it: Sam had time to kill in this waspy Stepford nightmare.

“That house,” Elaine began, gesturing toward the one the detectives had just left, “belonged to Peter and Janice Jilinski. Boston couple. Two adorable girls—Kate and Kayla. I’m not a fan of naming siblings with the same letter, but hey, it’s a free country…”

“Were?” Sam asked, picking up on the past tense.

“Oh,” Elaine said, leaning in like she had a secret. “They found the whole family murdered in their car at Lake Mead. Word is, Ernesto the groundskeeper discovered them while fishing with his son. Morbid coincidence, huh?”

“Wow,” Sam said, eyebrows raised. Not exactly the entertainment I had in mind.

“Wow, indeed,” Elaine nodded. “And not to mention the Griers just up and vanished a few weeks ago. Things used to be quiet here—until the murders and the neighborhood swinger parties, of course.”

“Wait—what?” Sam blinked.

Elaine raised a hand. “I know. Sounds like malarkey. I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t heard it firsthand. But my nephew Jesse got propositioned a while back, and that led me to ask around. Let’s just say… the things that go on under your nose.”

Sam snorted. This place is insane. She decided to just roll with it.

“Okay, you’re not trying to recruit me, are you?” she joked. “I’m only good for coffee, sudoku, and 8 p.m. bedtimes. I may be 28, but I identify as 76.”

Elaine let out a hearty laugh, which made Sam smile.

As they rounded the corner, Elaine pointed. “I’m right here.”

“Oh!” Sam said, surprised. “My folks are the house to your left.”

“Get out—are you Charlotte? I forgot to ask your name. Your dad always speaks so highly of you.”

Sam’s smile turned stiff. Of course he brags about Charlotte.

“No, I’m Sam. The other daughter.”

Elaine grinned. “Want to come in for tea, Sam-the-other-daughter?”

“Sure,” Sam shrugged, following Elaine and the grumbling Jamison inside.

Elaine’s home shared the same architectural bones as the rest of Lago Tierra—but the decor told a different story. Eclectic, global, layered. It felt like a home that had lived. She gestured to a grand oak dining table.

“I’ll get us some tea,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.

Sam looked around. A side table held a cluster of framed photos. One, in particular, caught her eye—a recent picture of Elaine standing next to a man who looked familiar.

She stepped closer.

“No way,” she whispered.

“No way what?” Elaine asked, returning with a tea set.

“Is that your son?” Sam asked.

“Oh, Jesse?” Elaine laughed. “No, he’s my nephew. Great kid. You’ll probably meet him any minute—he’s due back from a shift.”

“He lives with you?” Sam asked, more pointed than she meant.

“Well, technically I live with him,” Elaine said, setting down the tea. “His parents and sister died in a car accident when he was 13. After college, he moved away for a bit, but I was managing a string of motels in New Mexico and, well—I got stabbed by a guest a few years ago.”

“What?!” Sam gasped.

“Oh, it was a while ago. Upset Jesse something fierce. He begged me to sell everything and move in with him during his residency. Just finished it, actually. He’s an ER doc. I’m so proud.”

Right on cue, the front door opened. Jamison bolted over, tail wagging wildly.

“Elaine, I’m gonna take a nap, but maybe later we can hit that restaurant—” He stopped short, eyes landing on Sam. “What is she doing here?”

“Oh, this is Sam! Our neighbor—Dr. Ellison’s daughter.”

Jesse blinked. “You’re Dr. Ellison’s daughter?”

“Uh, yeah. Hello again,” Sam offered, waving awkwardly.

“Well. Hello,” Jesse said flatly, then disappeared down the hallway with Jamison in tow.

Elaine tilted her head. “Well, that was weird.”

Sam winced. “I… may have made a less-than-stellar first impression. At the benches out front.”

Elaine’s eyes lit up. “Oh you’re her? Oh, bless you for putting him in his place. I love him dearly, but he can be standoffish. His dad—my brother and twin—was… difficult.”

Sam softened. “Yeah. I got the vibe. I could’ve been more gracious. He probably had a rough day.”

“Oh, he did. A kid died, I think. But still. You didn’t know. And the Kumbaya bit? Hilarious. Care for a game of dominoes?”

My God, she’s a whirlwind, Sam thought. But truthfully, she liked dominoes. And she didn’t mind chatty older women. Not this one, anyway.

“Sure,” she said with a shrug.

Elaine lit up and started setting the game.

Sam chuckled to herself. Making friends with the aunt of the Stoop Gestapo. Life’s weird sometimes.