Heart Beat

by Lynne Waite Chapman

  Too soon, Clair was pointing at the door, and I followed her down the concrete steps.

  She launched into a fast-paced walk. “Come on, girlfriend. Let’s get that blood pumping. Don’t you love fresh morning air? This is the perfect time to power walk. Sets the pace for the whole day. Extra fat will melt away.”

  There’d never been an extra ounce of fat on that body of hers.

  I struggled to keep pace, ejecting words as I was able, between breaths. “Not so sure I love it. But…I know…good for me.”

  “Wait until you see this walking path. It winds through the woods, along the stream, and there’s a beautiful ravine up ahead. So peaceful.” She pumped her arms and picked up the pace.

  With a deep breath, I completed two entire sentences. “Great. What’s this got to do with peaceful? Will there be a place to sit?”

  Clair powered up a hill and turned onto a tree-lined walkway. It was beautiful, or I think it was, if I’d had time to take it in. I scanned the vegetation in a vain attempt to appreciate nature, but returned to eyes front just in time to keep from slamming into Clair. She’d stopped.

  “Someone threw a gum wrapper on the ground. How careless.” Clair bent over and picked up the silvery bit of paper and stuffed it into her pocket. “Such a shame. Our trails are among the nicest in the state. People don’t appreciate what the city council has done for us.” She was on the march again.

  I wanted to be cheerful and made every effort between gulps of oxygen. “Love the trees. Stream would be peaceful. Wish we could stop and look.”

  “I knew you’d love it. We can’t stop yet. We just got our heart rates up.”

  Why wasn’t she out of breath? I decided to fore-go conversation, and concentrate on my stride.

  Once again, Clair abruptly applied the brakes. I was three steps past her before I managed to stop.

  She spun around and pointed into the trees. “Look down there in the valley.” Her hands dropped to her hips. “Somebody left a bunch of trash.”

  Following her glare, I could see it. A pile of rags had been tossed down the hill. They were almost hidden among weeds and dry leaves.

  Clair steamed off down the walk, faster than before. “Some people are so inconsiderate. Remind me to get a garbage bag when we get to your place, and I’ll come back to pick that up.”

  I broke into a trot to catch up. “Really? You’re coming back to pick up trash?” Of course, she would. Clair was insanely civic-minded.

  After thirty minutes of agony, on my part, Stoneybridge Drive came into view. My little Cape Cod never looked so inviting. Visions of steaming coffee gave me renewed energy for the last block. Finally, I trudged up the steps and leaned into the door until it opened.

  I swear I could see electricity sparking from Clair as she jogged to the kitchen. “Do you have a garbage bag? We’ve got to go back to pick up that rubbish.”

  “We? Now? Don’t you want to sit down and have a cup of coffee first? How about a bottle of water?”

  “No. We can’t just leave it there. A black mark on the community. Everyone using the trails will have to look at it.”

  Why did she keep saying “we”? I cast a longing gaze at the cold coffee maker and pulled a black plastic bag from the cupboard. Clair grabbed it and tucked it into her waistband while she marched out the front door.

  “Come on, Lauren. We’ll have this done in no time.” She set off at a rapid clip toward the woods.

  Mason peeked from under the dining table, and our eyes met, as I pulled the door shut behind me, then mustered my strength and set off to follow Clair.

  I lost sight of her during the last leg of the trek. Catching my breath at the top of the hill, I scanned the area. Clair wasn’t in sight. I ventured to other side of the walk and peered into the ravine. There she was, clinging to the embankment, already halfway to the bottom.

  She shouted up at me. “Why would anyone climb all the way down here, through the trees and weeds, just to throw garbage away?”

  I wondered why anyone would climb all the way down there to pick it up.

  Still ranting, Clair steadily made her way to the bottom. “It would have been easier to find a public trash bin. Some people go out of their way to break the law.”

  I found a sturdy tree trunk on which to lean as I watched her descent. “Be careful. There’s no need to rush. That stuff isn’t going anywhere.”

  Clair skidded the last few feet to bottom of the slope, and made her way to the pile. I had to chuckle watching her arms flail when she ran into a swarm of flies.

  I did admire her. She always thought of the good of the town.

  Kicking leaves aside, Clair opened the garbage bag and reached to grasp a crumpled red cloth. All of a sudden, her hand flew open and jerked back to her chest. An odd wail seemed to emanate from deep inside her as she straightened, eyes still riveted to the pile of rags.

  “What’s going on?” I strained to see what held her attention. “Clair, what are you doing? Are you going to pick up that stuff so we can go home? I still need coffee.”

  That’s when her scream pierced the air, and my blood froze. Clair spun around to gape at me, mouth open wide, but now releasing no sound at all. I cocked my head and peered back at her, still unable to discern what the commotion was about.

  After a final glance at the ground, she began a frantic—almost comical—struggle up the slope. More than once, she lost her footing and slid back, then grasped at small trees and bushes to pull herself forward.

  She neared the top and I offered my hand to pull her up the last few steps. “Did you see a snake?” I began to laugh, but another look at her eyes stifled it.

  She gained her footing on the trail and maintained the grip on my hand, which was beginning to tingle from lack of circulation. Clair stared straight at me, eyes wide, mouth open, mute. She lifted her other hand and pointed at the trash.

  “What? Clair, what’s the matter?” I began prying her fingers loose, one at a time.

  Finally finding her voice, she uttered, “Body. Dead person. Call 911.”

  “Dead person?” I turned my attention to the pile of leaves and rubbish, while I dug my hand into my pocket to find my cell.

  My mind spun as I punched in the three digits. Simplifying the emergency number had to have been the best idea ever.

  “Hello? Um, my friend found the body of a person in the ravine along the walking path.” I stumbled with the words. Too bad there wasn’t a three-number code for “dead person, send help”.

  “A body? Is this person breathing?”

  “Um. I don’t think so. Clair, were they breathing?”

  Clair grabbed the phone from my hand. “Hello, my name is Clair Lane. I’m on the walking path between Maple Street and Juniper Avenue. I found the body. It’s down in the ravine. They’re dead, I’m sure. I couldn’t tell whether it’s a man or a woman and I’m pretty sure they’ve been there a while.”

  While Clair finished her call, I wandered to the other side of the path and found a place to sit on the ground.

  Clair clicked the phone off and sat beside me. “It’s okay. They’re sending someone right away.”

  I looked at Clair, but couldn’t think of anything to say. We sat in silence.

  Within minutes sirens signaled the approach of the EMS and probably a police car. Soon, a cluster of first responders and two men carrying a stretcher between them jogged toward us.

  Chapter Nine

  A n intricate network of ropes snaked down into the ravine, linking trees at the top to those at the foot. A medic attached the stretcher and crates of supplies to the ropes, then carefully lowered them to the bottom. Two of his coworkers broke from the crowd hovering around the body to retrieve the supplies. Clair and I clung to each other at the top of the hill, unable to tear our attention away from the scene.

  We were so intent on the activity that a sharp voice caused both of us to jump. “Halloren? What’d you do now? Do you follow trouble around, or does it follo
w you?”

  I turned to find Officer Farlow standing behind us. His eyes burrowed into mine.

  Geez. Just what I needed. Stony-faced and stern, Farlow lived and breathed regulations. Did he ever smile?

  “I didn’t do anything.” My hand took on a life of its own and pointed at Clair. “She found a body.” As a writer, you would think I’d come up with a more articulate answer.

  “Hmmm.” He maintained eye contact while deftly opening that aggravating notebook. “What were you two doing out here this morning?”

  “Walking.”

  “Why?”

  “Exercise.” How many writers do you know who can’t string two words together in a sentence? It’s a good thing I landed the part-time receptionist job.

  “You were out for exercise, so what were you doing in the ravine? Let me guess. You’ve taken up mountain climbing.” I think he almost cracked a smile at his little joke.

  Again, I pointed to Clair. “She went down there.”

  Farlow released me from his gaze and turned the spotlight on my friend. “And your name is?”

  “Clair Lane. I’m a real estate agent here in Evelynton. I’m sure you’ve seen my signs around town. Top-dollar producer last year. I don’t have a business card with me, but I’ll get you one.” She had obviously recovered from the horrific experience of discovering a corpse.

  “Ms. Lane, why did you leave the walkway and go down into the gully?”

  Clair launched into a short, but forceful, discourse on the disposal of refuse on public property, finishing with, “I thought someone had thrown their garbage down there, so I took a plastic bag and climbed down to pick it up, as is my civic duty.”

  She raised an index finger. “By the way, that black plastic bag is the one I left there. It isn’t part of the evidence. Well, as you can see, I discovered the trash wasn’t rags at all, but clothes attached to a body.”

  “Yes ma’am. Did you recognize the victim?”

  “How would I recognize it? I don’t even know if it’s a man or a woman. There’s no face. Just a bloody mess with flies crawling all over it.”

  My vision became a little blurry. Trees swirled around me, my knees buckled, and I sank to the ground. Clair hadn’t shared that disturbing information with me. A vivid imagination can be a curse. Propping my head between my knees slowed the swirl, and I began to breathe again.

  While I stared at the dirt, I heard the snap of Farlow’s notebook snapped shut and he stepped away.

  “I’ll be in touch with you both. You’ll need to come downtown to issue and sign a formal statement later today.” When his footsteps retreated a bit further, I glanced up to find him staring at me.

  “Do you want someone to drive you home, Ms. Halloren?”

  Clair spoke for me. “No. We’re fine. We’ll walk.”

  Gee, thanks Clair. I guessed her legs were a lot steadier than mine.

  Chapter Ten

  O ne forty-five, the perfect time of day at Ava’s Java. The business lunch crowd was its way back to work, and the late afternoon coffee drinkers hadn’t arrived.

  I could only describe Ava as a robust woman with an athletic build. She towered over me by about four inches. “Hi Lauren. How are you? Haven’t had a chance to talk to you since the excitement. A dead body?” She handed me my light roast coffee with low-fat milk. I came in so often, she knew what I liked. That made me smile. That she catalogued all the town gossip, and wanted to talk about it, I didn’t so much.

  I took a deep breath, prepared to offer the short version. “Yeah, I…”

  Ava’s phone rang, and she swiveled to grab it, saving me from having to continue.

  I weaved my way through empty tables to the sunny spot by the window and snuggled into the chair across from Anita. Then I took a long slow drink.

  Anita placed a bookmark in her paperback and glanced up. “Isn’t this a great day? I have the whole afternoon with nothing to do.”

  “That sounds heavenly. I could use a little relaxation after these last crazy couple of weeks. The robberies. Ugh, the body.” I put a hand over my eyes, trying to shut out the image.

  “Well at least we can forget about solving the robberies, since Rarity reported them. And that poor dead person. The police said it was a man, didn’t they? People are saying it had to be a transient. I bet they’ll discover he wandered into town and died of a heart attack or something.”

  “They confirmed it was a man, but that’s all so far. Clair’s description didn’t indicate a natural death, but who am I to say? I guess anything could have happened after he died. Anyway, I’d love to get back to peaceful small-town life, with nothing to worry about other than feeding my cat.”

  My gaze wandered to the street. “What the…”

  I turned back to Anita and stared at her for a minute before I formed the words. “Um. I must be seeing things. The motorcycle that just went by. Did you see it?”

  Anita looked up from her coffee. “No. I heard it, I think. Why?”

  “There was woman riding on the back. She was wearing a skirt and heels. I’d almost think it was Clair.”

  Anita laughed out loud. “Sure, Clair on a motorcycle. Can you just imagine it? Drink up. I think you need more caffeine. Clair’s crazy, but not that crazy.”

  “You’re right. She wouldn’t ride one, even in jeans. Does she own a pair of jeans?”

  Anita cocked her head and shrugged. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Well, the woman on the bike was wearing a helmet so I couldn’t see her face, and she was going pretty fast.”

  I sipped my coffee and thought about what I would do if I had no responsibilities for a whole day.

  Anita drew my attention back to reality. “Has Rarity heard anything from the police yet?”

  “Nothing. To tell you the truth, I don’t think our police force has any desire to investigate the theft. Probably haven’t even thought about it. They don’t think it’s important enough.”

  “Too bad. I suppose they have enough to keep them busy. And maybe Rarity was right in the beginning. It might have been kids.”

  I returned to my peaceful thoughts, telling myself to let it go. Forget the hair color mystery and the dead person in the gully. And I’d almost reached that serene place when Anita exclaimed, “Oh my.”

  “Hmm?” I looked up at Anita. Her mouth hung open, and her eyes focused over my right shoulder. I shifted in my chair to discover this new object of interest.

  Clair stepped through the entry of the coffee shop. The door swung closed behind her as she moved in our direction. After a wave to Ava, a secret signal between the two of them, meaning she needed coffee, Clair pulled out a chair at our table and sank into it with a thunk. She took a deep breath and fiddled with her purse.

  I stared at her, trying to arrange my perspective, and adjust the tone of my voice, before putting my thoughts into words.

  With unusual restraint, Anita began. “Hi, Clair. How’s it going?”

  “Fine.” Clair’s voice was faint. Talk about unusual.

  My mind was still busy taking in Clair’s appearance. “Um, new hairstyle?” Could have been more creative with the question.

  She cut her eyes to me. Her lips formed a little O, before both hands flew to her head. She felt what we saw—hair that looked like it had been ironed flat and glued to her head. Clair began a poking and lifting motion. Then she bent over and scrubbed at her head. When she righted herself, her hair resembled her signature spiky style.

  Anita gave up on restraint and tact. “Girl, what in the world happened to you? You’re a wreck.”

  Clair straightened and raised her chin. “I had a date.”

  “What?” That question was a duet from Anita and me.

  “You know, I told you I joined that online dating site. I met a new guy today. He was nice, and so proud of his motorcycle.”

  Anita interrupted. “A motorcycle? Clair, you can’t be serious. He wouldn’t be a match for you. You don’t like motorcycles,
do you?”

  “No, I don’t, but he’s cute. Besides, eight out of ten guys on the site ride them. What’s with men over forty and motorcycles? Anyway, I decided to go with it.” She adjusted a strand of hair. “I’m up for new adventures.”

  Ava arrived with coffee, which Clair accepted with both hands. She took a big slurp before continuing.

  “He said it’d be a short ride. He said he’d take it easy. He said we’d see the sights and I’d love it.” She closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead.

  Anita took a sip of her own coffee. “So you didn’t love it?”

  “If that was taking it easy, I never want to be on a hard ride. I couldn’t see the scenery, because I had my eyes shut. At least I was sitting in back, so he blocked most of the bugs.” She glanced down at her jacket and brushed off a few specks. One of which crawled away after it hit the floor.

  “He just kept going and going. We must have been on every dirt road in the county. I started to think I’d been kidnapped. Then he slowed enough that I opened my eyes and saw the blessed city limit sign. Finally got back to the restaurant. I’ve never been so glad to crawl into my car. It felt like I was being hugged by my momma.”

  Clair shuddered and straightened her shoulders. “Enough about that. What’s going on with the missing products at The Rare Curl?”

  I had more questions about her date, such as—did he want a goodbye kiss, but thought better of it.

  “Nothing. I think the police have already filed it away. But it’s okay because there hasn’t been any trouble since Rarity had the locks changed.”

  “Good. Maybe Rarity was right, and it was kids who’ve moved on to something new. Probably done messing with their hair.”

  “Hope so. I’m not sure even kids should get away with theft, but if Rarity’s happy….”

  I glanced at the time on my phone. “Well girls, I have to get over to the nursing home. Louise is expecting me.” I gathered my coffee mug and napkin and slid my chair out.