Loose Ends (Part One)

Murder Girls is created, written, and produced by Eternal Teenager. Content Warning. This episode contains depictions of a seizure, recreational drug use, references to past violence and injury, strong language, discussion of death, and the discovery of a dead body.

Listener discretion is advised.

The thing about coming home after 10 years is that everything's different. Even the things that haven't changed at all. So I guess I should introduce myself.

I'm Marguerite Park, Mags, to anyone who actually knows me. 22 years old medical student, and apparently the new owner of a curiosity shop called Loose Ends in a hometown I haven't set foot in for over a decade. I know, I know that that sounds like the elevator pitch of a quirky rom-com, doesn't it?

Girl returns to small seaside hometown, inherits weird, impossibly antiquated business, finds herself through reflection and hard work, maybe falls in love with the local bed and breakfast owner. Yeah, so, so dreamy. But this isn't that story.

This is about, well, I'm back in my hometown after over a decade because my recently departed Aunt Didi left me her curiosity shop and, well, I was curious about why she would do that.

Huh.

Didi was, well, she was always there for me, even after we moved away. Even when I wasn't exactly the best at staying in touch. She'd send these long rambling emails about the shop, about the town, about people.

I used to know. I, um, never replied much. But I read every word.

Looking back, I wonder how much I missed in those emails. How many subtle things Didi was trying to tell me that I was too wrapped up in my own teenage reality to pick up on. She had this way of burying important things in rambling stories about the shop's latest weird acquisitions or town gossip.

Maybe she just gave people, gave me, too much credit, assuming we'd come to our senses and absorb the wisdom she was constantly imparting, like between the lines of it all. Classic Deedee. I mean, she didn't even tell me she was sick until she absolutely had to.

Until it was sort of too late. My dad found out first. Had to basically force her to let us know.

Though sometimes I think maybe that wasn't the only thing my aunt kept to herself. When I left Avalon Falls with my family back then, I didn't exactly leave on a high note. Uh, it's complicated, I guess.

I mean, is it weird to say that I was a celebrity? Like, a kind of sort of local, small town, regional, tween celebrity? I mean, I feel like it's weirder to say that I was a detective or sleuth.

Like, a tween detective or sleuth, but... Yeah. That's what I was, I guess.

I was a sleuth. Part of a team. And we solved our first case, and it was good for a while.

A short while. But then, well, after that, things changed. Yeah.

Amy... Amy was my sleuthing partner. My best friend.

BFF, and... Well, I haven't spoken to her since I left here. We moved to the city, and I just ghosted out of her life at the...

At the worst possible time. No contact for over ten years. Avoiding her.

At this point, that's not even about me being guilty about what I did, although I am so guilty. But I'm just terrified of facing her anger. Because really, what can I say to her?

Sorry? But, um... I'm not here to dwell on the past.

I'm here for new beginnings. Meet with the estate lawyer, deal with the shop, leave again. Probably sell the place, use the money to figure out what I'm actually doing with my life.

Clean break, no complications. Yeah, I suppose I'm really asking the universe to drop a house on me after saying all that. Um...

You know what? It's fine. It's all gonna be fine.

Haha. Yep, yep, yep. For sure.

Murder Girls, episode one, Loose Ends, part one.

The autumn sky is absolutely free of clouds as I'm here standing at the edge of Avalon Falls, my bags at my feet, watching my past and future collide. That sounded like a poised and eloquent intro to things versus the sad reality. The bus dropped me off at the side of the road on the outskirts of town with my bags and quickly evaporating dignity.”

I'm so at the edge of town that I'm right beside the welcome to Avalon Falls sign. Avalon Falls, my hometown, as I mentioned. The hometown I left more than a decade ago, as I also mentioned.

Hey, fuck you, Nancy Drew!

Fucking murder girl! So, yeah, yes, it's good to be back. But, yeah, I don't think the internet prepared me for any of the feelings I'm feeling standing here.

Like standing here at the rickety old bus stop at the edge of the hometown I left 10 years ago, and smelling the ocean and the boardwalk, hearing the seagulls, the waves. I just…

yeah.

Definitely detecting a hint of ambivalence on the finish. Anyway, I should get moving. Time to use the town's, and I still can't believe this is a thing, e-rickshaw app.

Well, yup, it's exactly as janky as you'd expect. Oh dear. The icon is literally just a bicycle emoji with the word progress under it in papyrus.”

When Marion, my Aunt Didi's estate attorney, mentioned that this was now a thing, I thought she was joking. But apparently it's part of the City Council's whole green future marketing push. Turns out some big tech company called Omnia is seriously considering building a huge campus here.

The consensus is that means loads of development and business and new life for the place. So making the town seem eco-friendly and progressive will help with all that, I guess.

Marguerite P?

Just Mags is-

I'm Myles. Just Myles. You know, just like Rihanna and Bono.

Nope. Let me help you with those bags.

Thank you, Myles. Just Myles. So a green rideshare service in Avalon Falls, huh?

What's next? Wind turbines? A vegan cafe?”

Oh, yeah. Avalon Falls has definitely changed since, uh, well, you know, let's just say the Omnia development has brought some new initiatives.

You seem to know a lot about the town.

Just observant, I guess. You know, part of the job.

Oh, no. Sally's Fried Dough is gone?

Yes. Sally's closed a couple years back. A lot of the old boardwalk businesses couldn't hold on.

You know, what with the new corporate developments moving in. Uh, not that I've been tracking business closures or anything, just, well, you notice things driving people around all day. It, uh, you know, makes the rickshaw ride rope, um, right on by.

Yup.

I-I didn't realize things had gotten so bleak here.

Okay, so here's your stop.”

Thank you, Miles. I'll leave a great review, um, like when this little circle thing stopped spinning on the app.

Oh, yeah, they said they were gonna fix that. Um, it might be best to just delete the app and then recover your account. Yeah, yeah, I think that's been the most successful way to avoid banking and personal data being compromised.

Okay, so welcome back to Avalon Falls, Mags.

Marion Caldwell's office is exactly what you'd expect from a Small Town lawyer. All dark wood paneling and leather bound law books that probably haven't been opened since the Carter administration. The kind of place that wants you to know it's important, but not too important.

Just important enough for Avalon Falls. I've been in here before actually, when I was 12. After we solved the case, there were all these meetings about testimony and depositions.

I remember being fascinated by this little brass lamp on her desk. It's still there, just dustier. Everything in here is still there, just dustier.”

Marion herself hasn't changed much either. She's older, sure, but she still has that look, like she knows everyone's secrets and is deciding which ones to keep. I guess that's what happens when you're a lawyer in a town like this for 40 years.

You become a keeper of secrets. Maybe that's why Didi trusted her. Ugh, I don't know.

I should be feeling something more right now, shouldn't I? My aunt just died. I'm about to inherit her whole life's work.

But mostly, I just feel numb, like I'm watching someone else go through the motions. Check the boxes. Initial here.

Sign there. Become the owner of Loose Ends. God, Didi.

Even your shop's name is on the nose.

Okay. Now, your aunt was very specific about the shop going to you. The terms are quite straightforward.

Full ownership, no conditions.

I still don't understand why.

Didi spoke often about you, even after... Well, you know, she was quite proud of your medical studies. I mean, she was proud of everything you did.

Now, the shop's been closed since she went into hospice. Just over three months, but you know, Didi. Always thinking ahead, right?

Um, oh, I...

Right. So the property taxes are paid through the year, and there's a small account for maintenance and utilities. How about that, huh?

And if I decide to sell?

That would indeed be your right. Though, I'll tell you straight, the market here isn't what it once was. Omnia has everyone holding their breath.

Okay. Well, oh, one more thing. A bit irregular, but would you mind?

She reaches into her desk drawer and pulls out a book, a worn dog-eared paperback book. The familiar cover makes my stomach drop. A lighthouse, the ocean waves, two widely smiling girls with their arms around each other's shoulders.

And there, in an over-dramatic font, I'm too shook to be the least bit curious about or even try to muster the sass to mock, is the tidy title, Lights Over Osprey Island, A Mags and Amy Mystery, The True Story of Avalon Falls Girl Detectives, by Minerva Maddix. Oh, I haven't seen one of those in a while.

My granddaughter's quite taken with the story. She'd love, love, love your signature. Oh, would you look at that?

Amy O'Connell already signed it, years ago, apparently. She still comes by the shop sometimes, or did, you know, when Didi was, well, I suppose that's not relevant to the estate matter.

No, I suppose not.

Initial here and here, sign at the bottom. I just wanted to say, your aunt fought hard at the end, but she was worried about something. Something more than just the cancer, I mean.

Wait, what do you mean?

Well, you know, speaking from the heart right now, I believe that your aunt, God bless her, just wanted to make sure you got the shop. It was important to her that you'd come back to look through things yourself. She made that very clear, Marguerite.

And you know, speaking from experience in this job, there's just something so poetic about family legacies returning to their rightful owners. Okay, well, here are the keys. The small ones are for the front door, the others...

Well, Didi had a lot of locks. Will you be staying long?

Just long enough to sort things out, I think.

Right. Well, if there is absolutely anything you need while you are in town, please do not hesitate to give me a call.

Okay, girl?

Yes. Yeah, thank you.

Avalon Falls is one of those towns where the mists never quite lift. Not the actual mists, though we have tons of that shit too, but the kind that settles over your life when you stay somewhere way too long. Most people don't notice it happening, that fog rolling in.

I do. Maybe that's my real curse, not all the other way more obvious stuff or whatever. Just seeing things too clearly when everyone else is content with those shady fucking mists.

I should probably introduce myself. Amy, Amy O'Connell, 23, Professional Town Disappointment. I don't have time for once upon a times.

I'm just the weird one who stayed. The angry weird one who stomps around town at all hours and talks to dead people. Okay, just one dead person.

What am I doing, you might ask? Been sitting in my parked car for three hours now getting all stiff and having to pee but not daring to leave in case something happens. I guess it's a stakeout.

Not much going on though. The only redeeming quality is supposed to be doughnuts and coffee, and I've got neither. Just an empty pack of smokes and the desperate hope there's a stray butt hiding under the seat.

Nothing. Fucking great. What I really need is a joint, but I'm out of that too.

Although, actually, let's see, what have we got here? Desperate times meet desperate measures. Jackpot.

Five or six sad little roaches with some life left in them just hanging out in the ashtray. Oh, I, yeah, I should really clean that more often. Nevertheless, let's reuse and recycle this.

You know, for the planet. Okay, now gently tap the remnants into a gum wrapper. Patience.

Steady now. There we go. And now we have approximately half a bowl of some sad dog stale ass weed.

Better than nothing. And I think there's more though.

You do realize that would be considered rock bottom for most people.”

That's my dad in the passenger seat. Well, not really. My dad's been dead for 10 years.

10 years, three months and 14 days to be exact. But my brain likes to conjure him up when I skip my meds, which I've been doing because they make everything foggy. And what I need right now more than anything is clarity.

The doctors call it a complex neurological manifestation due to traumatic brain injury. I call it yay free hallucinations. Yeah, it's not as fun as I make it sound.

Honestly, most of the time, it's like having someone question every choice you make or don't make all the while smelling like old spice and flannel. It's weed, not fucking meth, dude. I mean, you smoke this shit too.

Let's be real.

Okay, okay, you got me.

Still, it smells like a whole mess of bad ideas in here, kiddo.

Yeah, sorry. It was that fall smart hot dog I had at three in the morning. Oof.

Now that was definitely a bad idea.

Very funny.

Wait, what's this? What's this? Oh, yes, the hero completes her quest.

Whoa. This is a monster roach. What am I doing throwing this much away?

Who do I think I am, Jonathan? My dad's name was Jonathan. Well, I got to say, this is telling me my luck's turning around.

Yes, yes, this is certainly a proud day for the O'Connell clan.

You know, for a figment of my imagination, you showed up with a lot of opinions today. Just so much sass from you.

This is a waste of time, kiddo. You've been watching this building for three days. What exactly are you hoping to see?

I don't know. Something, anything. A slip up. “Proof. One of those mask parties with the orgies and Illuminati and lizard people or whatever. I don't know.

So I'm parked across from this fancy brick building where the Holt's, the top family of the town's top families, do whatever rich people pretend is work. I'm waiting for Dylan, the son and heir of the Holt dynasty and to emerge from his lair like the privileged little gargoyle he is. This, this is a pastime, a hobby, my side hustle.

The gig economy isn't kind to antisocial high school dropouts with little to no ambition and a seizure disorder. If you didn't know, at least not in Avalon Falls. So you know, I get by delivering packages, walking dogs, helping out at my aunt's trailer park, and occasionally serving as the town's only living ghost story.

Yeah, the olds in town tend to take me personally like I'm deliberately trying to ruin their day by existing incorrectly. To me, that's just a hugely positive side effect of me existing incorrectly. Existing incorrectly is all I have left.

That and my wall of evidence back home that everyone thinks makes me look both pathetic and crazy. Uh, maybe they're right, but being right and being crazy aren't mutually exclusive in Avalon Falls. Oh, look, there he is.

Come on, Ames, it's been 10 years. He was 11. He's not going to remember anything.

Pretty sure he does, Dad. Maybe later we can do a little circle back and I can give y'all a history lesson on how much the Holtz have meant to the good town of Avalon Falls through the ages. Even now, those pesky Holtz are doing their best to bring some, I don't know, new, agey, tech, bro-wank company here to suck up whatever blood is left in this place.

Dylan walks his skinny white ass across the street and gets into his ridiculous Tesla. Time to follow. The thing about trailing someone in AF is it's impossible to be subtle.

“No ninja mode available. There are like three main roads. Luckily, I'm a ghost in this town when I need to be.

Driving the lamest 2005 Yaris you will ever encounter on this or any other continuum. Plus, Dylan likely doesn't notice anyone who is poor. So, yeah, definitely got that going on.

All right, so where is he going?

Hey, I heard Mags Park is back in town.

Hey, hey, don't, okay? Do not.

Didi left her the shop.

Yeah, well, you left me the house, and that's all led us to this point in time, hasn't it, Jonathan? Right? Nah, Mags will get in, deal with the shop, get out.

Clean break, no complications, that's what anyone would do, should do. Mags and I used to have this thing where we'd text each other the same song lyric at the exact same moment. Happened at least once a week, like our brains were on the same frequency.

Wonder if that still works across 10 years and 1,000 miles of silence. Probably not. Some connections aren't meant to survive that kind of distance.

There's a particular scent to Loose Ends, I have it committed to memory. Or maybe it's better to say the smell is a memory, yeah. It's not just a mix of dust and old weird things and varnished wood with, you know, undertones of whatever incense Didi was burning last.

Lavender, maybe? Or sage? Yes, there's something more to it.

It rushes through me the moment I step through the door, leaving me dizzy. The shop is exactly how I remembered it, but it's somehow more everything, more cluttered, more mysterious, more messy, more sad, maybe. I mean, definitely more sad.

Of course. So it's definitely at least as weird as you might imagine in here. It's also, yeah, you know, it's actually really cool.

Sunlight filters through the windows, catching on glass curiosities and making them glitter. Display cases filled with everything from Victorian buttons to vintage trading cards to old-fashioned magazines, shelves of books that look like they might contain actual spells, various hats, including an actual witch's hat and a tricorn pirate hat. And everywhere, these little handwritten notes in Deedee's looping scrawl, with no attempt to make any of this, all of this, any less…

well… curious. Here's a fun example.

Fishing Boat Salt Shaker, 1978. Mrs. Bergman claims it whistles when storms are coming. Test results.

Inconclusive.

Ha ha.

There's the back corner. Yeah, our corner. Uh, Amy's and mine, where Didi let us set up our detective agency headquarters.

Didi would bring us hot chocolate while we worked. She cleared an entire shelf for our case files, which were really just spiral notebooks filled with our observations and theories, and, uh, some fan fiction, I think? Yeah, we were both super into Attack on Titan back then, don't ask.

Didi believed in us, even when the case got real. While other adults were telling us to leave it alone, she was slipping us newspaper clippings and town gossip that might help. You girls see things differently, she'd say.

That's your gift. The corner's been rearranged now, but look, you can still see the thumbtack holes in the wall where we pinned our evidence board. Um, this is...

This is where we actually solved a real murder case that changed the town forever, for better or worse. It's strange. I feel like I'm standing in the middle of someone's whole life, because that's what this shop is.

Didi's life, her legacy. You know, everything she found interesting or beautiful or worth preserving, all gathered in one place. She was only 47 when she...

when she died. Not young, but not old either. Not old enough to have finished whatever she was trying to do here.

What was she trying to do here? Was this just a business, or... or was it something more?

A collection? A record of some kind? Or, like my parents theorized on many occasions, was Didi just running away from real life and all its loneliness and failure and boredom?

At 22, the idea of legacy feels abstract, distant. Something for future me to worry about. But standing here surrounded by Didi's carefully curated life's work, I can't help but wonder what I'm building that will outlast me.

Med school was supposed to be that thing. But now… You know, I really came here hoping for something.

A sign, maybe? Some feeling that would tell me what to do with all this. Keep it or sell it.

Stay or go. But standing here surrounded by Didi's life, all I feel is overwhelmed and just… oh, you know…

ugh. I just feel sad. Yeah, I thought being here would make the decision easier.

That I'd either fall in love with the place or feel nothing at all. Instead, it's like the shop itself is watching me, waiting to see what I'll do. Whoa, shit.

Huh. Yeah, that almost fell on my head. Now what is…

it's… yes, yeah. A really rudimentary carved wooden raven about the size of my palm.

Something about it feels familiar, but I can't place it. I set it back on the shelf where it fell from, and suddenly the space feels too close. Too dense with memories and possibilities.

I need some air. Just a moment to think, to breathe. I step outside the shop, letting the crisp autumn air clear my head.

I'll figure this out. I just need a minute to… and that's when I see her.

Black hair. Black jacket. Eyes as fierce as an ocean storm.

From out of memory. Amy. And she's heading straight for a guy who's getting out of a Tesla.

And yeah, from the look on her face, this isn't going to be a friendly conversation.

I follow Dylan in his Tesla Creep Car as it winds through town. He's turning on Cedar Street, which is weird, not exactly Holt territory. More small businesses barely hanging on, including, no way.

Told you. Loose Ends, Didi's shop. And standing outside it, looking exactly the same, but somehow completely different, Mags Park.

She looks all manic, depressive, pixie dream girl, but also she looks, she looks sad, actually. Shit. I'm out of my car before I can think better of it.

10 years of silence and suddenly she's, what, 20 feet away. And there's Dylan Holt pulling up to the curb near her. Okay.

Okay. Wait, about that. Why the fuck is Dylan pulling up here at the Curiosity Shop?

And why now? You know what? You know what?

Don't worry about it. This is too perfect. Both of them right here.

It's like the universe is finally cutting me a break.

Ames, come on.

I don't know what I'm going to say. Maybe start with the whole, why is Dylan here at Didi's shop thing? Probably.

Yeah. That's pretty weird. That's a pretty weird coincidence, man.

Right? My heart's pounding so hard, I can feel my meds wearing off. That buzz at the base of my skull.

Bad timing, brain. Really bad timing. Hey, Holt.

O'Connell. Seriously? You're following me now?

Nice purple fucking tracksuit, dog. You look like a giant chode with a trust fund.

I step back into the shadow of the doorway. I'm not ready for this. Not ready to see her, to face whatever's left of us after all this time.

But I can't look away either. Plus, I'm pretty sure she saw me standing here anyway, so...

So, what are you doing here, Dylan? This isn't some fresh meat for you and your fucking family of vultures to pick over.

It's a public street. And unlike some people, I have actual business in this town.

Oh, yeah. Business like covering up what happened to my dad. Business like buying up everything that's left of this place.

You think I haven't noticed your dad swooping in every time someone in this town can't make rent? Like, you're doing us all some big fucking favor? Like, what even are you doing here, really?

Why are you at Didi's shop right now? Well, what did you fucking do to her? Was she getting too close to something?

Something's wrong. Amy's swaying slightly, her words becoming less focused. I recognize the signs before she does.

Uh, your family, your fucking family. Uh, uh, killed. I've got, I've, I've got, uh, huh.

Jesus, O'Connell, did you take your aunt's fucking Burning Man drugs?

Shit.

I'm not, I don't.

She's having a seizure. Amy is having a seizure. Without thinking, I'm moving, rushing toward her.

Amy!

Whoa!

She needs help. She's having a seizure.

Shit.

Um, should I, should I like call like 911? No need. I've got her.

I guide Amy gently to the ground, cradling her head. Her body is tense, eyes unfocused. I'm operating on medical training and instinct now, turning her onto her side, checking her airway, whispering reassurances.

I don't know if she can hear.

So, uh, I'm gonna, I'm gonna go.

Yeah, whatever. Go, go. It's okay, Amy.

I've got you. I'm here. I need to get her inside.

She'll be disoriented when she wakes up and furious. But right now, that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is making sure she's safe.

Come on, Ames, let's get you home. 10 years of silence and now here we are. Me holding Amy's unconscious body in my aunt's curiosity shop.

I came here to tie everything up, to make a clean break from Avalon Falls once and for all. Instead, it seems like the threads of my past are only beginning to unravel. And somehow I already know.

Didi didn't just leave me a shop. She left me a door back into a life I thought I'd left behind. A door I have no choice but to take a long breath and just step through.