Bryan hesitated, then shrugged. “He’s not much of a talker, so I wouldn’t count on it, but you never know.”
“Could you give me his phone number so I could call him? I didn’t see a number in the phone book, but maybe it’s under your name?”
“No, it’s a private number. I suppose I could ask him for you. Do you have a phone number he could reach you at?”
Mel shook her head regretfully. “My cell is having some trouble picking up a signal, and the cabin I’m at doesn’t have a phone hooked up… oh, but he could leave a message for me with the Kennedys and I could get back to him!” She hoped Beth wouldn’t mind and made a mental note to ask her, as soon as she got back.
Bryan nodded. “The Kennedys? Sure. Everyone knows who they are. That should work.”
“Thanks. It’s been nice talking to you.” She started the car, gave a cheery wave, and drove off. Glancing back in her mirror as she went on her way, she was surprised that there was no sign of Bryan. Apparently, he moved just as fast as Taylor did!
*****
Back in town, Mel made her way to the diner, recalling from yesterday that it had a pay phone in the entrance way. She listened to the rings while twirling the cord around her finger and mentally rehearsing her report. Finally, the answering machine picked up. Aldrich wasn’t in the office. Relieved, Mel left a message, thanking her lucky stars at being able to avoid talking to the man. He really did give her the creeps.
Hanging up the pay-phone—she was surprised to find that they still existed in the cellular world—she turned to stare around the crowded diner. It had an ‘L’ shaped dining area. A row of small tables lined the windows that faced onto the main street. Next there was a row of stools by a counter, behind which you could get a glimpse into the kitchen through a serving window. Along the side, leading towards the back was a long narrow area with row of booths on one side and various small tables on the other. It was mid-morning and it appeared many of the locals had stopped in for coffee after attending Sunday services at the local church. This, too, might be a good place to pick up some information on Taylor.
Moving to the counter, Mel chose an empty stool and hopefully ordered a cafe latte only to receive a blank stare from the waitress. With a sigh, she settled for regular and turned in her seat to take in the atmosphere of the diner. A myriad of food scents tantalized her nose; cinnamon, pancakes, bacon, frying onions… The sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen, the hiss of grease as it sizzled on a griddle… It was all comforting and familiar, reminding her of her own waitressing jobs back in Chicago. Nostalgically she thought of her fellow waitresses, the regular customers, Joe the cook, the long hours, the lousy tips, her sore feet… Hmm, maybe she wasn’t feeling so nostalgic after all.
Pushing thoughts of the ‘good old days’ aside—because quite frankly, they weren’t that good—Mel let the buzz of voices wash around her as she sipped her coffee and pondered how to pass the time while she waited for a response from Ryne. Absentmindedly, she began to follow the different threads of conversation.
“And then I said to him, if that’s how you feel… ”
“My back has been so much better since I got that new mattress… ”
“If you really want your engine overhauled, I’ll contact Ryne… ”
“So then she had the nerve to… ”
Wait! Back up. Hadn’t she just heard Ryne’s name mentioned? Mel swivelled the stool she was perched on and scanned the crowd for the source of the conversation. Two women were talking at the first table. A group of elderly men sat by the next. At the far corner, a group of teens had congregated and on the far side of the counter, two men… Yes. It was them. Discreetly, she shifted over one spot and tilted her head in their direction, thankful that she’d always had good hearing.
“Ryne’s busy fixing up that old place of his that he bought from the Nelsons, so he doesn’t have a lot of spare time, but I know he needs the extra money to pay for repairs.” The man talking was in his mid-fifties with a bit of grey at his temples. Mel noted that his hands showed signs of hard work, their strength and capability evident even as he cradled a cup of coffee in them. Despite the relatively new soft grey jacket he wore, Mel could tell that this was definitely someone who knew about physical labour and from the faint traces of grease around his nails, she determined he was probably an auto mechanic. She gave herself a point for her deductive skills and then turned her attention to the second man, who she judged to be a farmer.
“Thanks Ben. I love that old truck and I don’t need it right away… if Ryne could even work on it in his spare time that would be great. I don’t care when it’s done.”
“All right then. I’ll give him a call… or better yet, he’ll be in town tomorrow. He covers for me on Mondays, running the gas pumps and doing repairs, so I can catch up on the paper work from the previous week. I’ll talk to him, and if he’s interested, he can stop by on his way home and look the old girl over, see what he thinks needs doing… ”
The two men tossed some change on the counter and walked out, still talking. Through the window, Mel watched as they parted ways, one getting into a car, and driving off, while the other—Ben—walked across the road towards the service station, pulling a key from his pocket and unlocking the door.
A dog came bounding out and Mel recognized it as the one she’d seen yesterday, waiting to cross the road. She smiled and wondered how Ben had managed to train the dog to do a trick like that. To the best of her knowledge, dogs were colour-blind, so how did it know the difference between a red light and a green one? In her mind, she could see the man squatting on the ground at the curb, talking to the dog and explaining the intricacies of safely crossing the road while the dog nodded solemnly, absorbing this new knowledge. Shaking her head, she watched as the animal in question bounced around, no doubt excited for some company.
The waitress came by to top up her cup of coffee and must have noticed that Mel was watching the man and his dog.
“That’s Ben Miller and Harley.” The woman gestured with the coffee pot towards the activity across the street.
“He’s a nice looking dog. A lab?”
“Yep. About three years old. He’s supposed to be a guard dog, but he’s too darn friendly and not overly smart. If anyone were to break into Ben’s place, the only thing Harley would do, would be to drown them in drool.”
“I think he seems pretty clever. Yesterday, I noticed him waiting for the light to change before crossing the road.” Mel questioned the waitress’s assessment of the animal.
“Yeah. That is sort of strange. He never used to do that, but about a month ago he ran across the road and almost got hit. Ryne—he’s a guy that works for Ben—saw it and scooped up Harley, took him to the corner and in less than half an hour had him trained to use the light. Strangest thing we ever saw. The whole town was talking about it. Josh Kennedy—he owns the local paper—even ran an article about it, but Ryne didn’t want any credit or to have his name mentioned. Said he didn’t have time to talk to all the dogs in the area, but he’d tell Harley to spread the word.” The waitress laughed. “That Ryne can be so funny sometimes.”
As the woman wandered off to serve another customer, Mel sipped her coffee thoughtfully. So, Ryne worked on cars and was some sort of ‘dog whisperer’ as well as being a reclusive photographer. It was a rather eclectic collection of skills and she wondered what else he had hidden up his sleeve. She couldn’t wait to talk to him and find out. Hmm… Did he only work on Mondays? It would be helpful to know, in case she needed to track him down, especially since she couldn’t call or visit his house. Deciding that the waitress seemed to be a likely source of information, she plotted how to find out more about the man.
Next time the server made her rounds, Mel was ready. “I was wondering if you could recommend someone who could look at my car tomorrow. It was making this funny noise when I started it up this morning.”
The woman smiled at her and nodded her head towards the window
. “Right across the road where you’ve been staring is where you want to go—Miller’s Service Station, though we just call it Ben’s. He does good work and his prices are fair.”
“Great. It must keep him busy though, running the whole thing himself.”
“Well, his son, Greg, helped him out for quite a few years, until he headed off to college, but Ben was real lucky ’cause soon after the boy left, Ryne moved to town.”
“Ryne?”
“Uh-huh. Ryne Taylor—the guy I was telling you about who trained Harley. Ben hired him to work part time. He moved here back in November and knows his way around an engine—and around a woman too, if you know what I mean.” The woman winked and sighed dramatically. “The man is the stuff dreams are made of.”
Mel grinned as her mind flitted back to her own dream last night. Was Taylor as talented as her dream lover? This woman seemed to think so… Frowning, Mel wondered if she had personal experience with Taylor’s sexual prowess and wondered why the idea miffed her. Taylor was a job, that’s all. What he did, and with whom, was no concern of hers. Getting a firm grip on her wandering mind, she focused on the waitress. “Thanks for the information.”
“You’re welcome. Oh, and you’ll see the oh-so-sexy Ryne tomorrow if you take your car in. He works Mondays, Wednesdays, and sometimes on Fridays if Ben’s real busy.”
“You seem to know his schedule quite well.” Mel sipped her coffee and eyed the woman speculatively.
“Yeah. Ryne and I are good friends. He comes in here a lot and to the bar too. That’s my second job, working at the Broken Antler.”
“So he’s your boyfriend?” A pang of jealousy shot through her and she frowned.
“Sort of… . I mean, we see each other, but Ryne’s not the type to be tied down, you know?” The woman shrugged, tucking a stray lock of bleached blonde hair behind her ear.
Mel made no comment, merely nodding.
Leaning her hip against the counter, the waitress appeared to be settling in for a long conversation. “You just came to town yesterday, right? Melody’s your name?”
“Melody Greene. But you can call me Mel.”
“Mel it is, then. Beth Kennedy was in earlier today and told me how she’d rented a cabin to you. She was all excited because now she can order a new dishwasher and Josh can’t—” Her train of thought was interrupted by a bell ringing, signalling that someone wanted service at the cash register. The woman sighed. “Damn, that’s for me. Well, I hope you enjoy your stay.”
Mel nodded. “I’m sure I will. Thanks for your help… er… ” She checked the woman’s name tag, before continuing. “Lucy.”
Chapter 9
Mel headed back to the cabin, making a brief stop at the Kennedys’ first. It was a modest brick rancher with a few shrubs in the yard and some spring bulbs beginning to poke their way up through the ground. She rounded to the back door and hoped the husband and wife team didn’t think she was too presumptuous, just assuming they’d take messages for her.
As it turned out, they didn’t mind and in fact, Bryan had already called with a response for her. Taylor was considering her request and would let her know in a few days. Thanking her temporary landlords, Mel hid her disappointment at the vague response. She climbed back in her car and drove around the woodlot that separated the Kennedys’ house from the rental units.
Parking her car, she sat inside the vehicle, a cloud hanging over her head as she mulled over Taylor’s response. He would ‘consider’ it! Let her know in a ‘few days!’ Who did the man think he was? Rembrandt or something? This was a big break for him! If Greyson liked the article, Taylor could be famous. His face and his work might become recognized throughout the art world. There could be gallery displays and talk-show interviews. He could charge exorbitant prices for his photos. People might even commission him to take pictures. This interview could lead to great things. Why was he balking? Most people would jump at the chance for free publicity!
Mel wondered what could possibly be holding him back. Was it his experience with Bastian’s Gallery? Perhaps they had promised him publicity and it had somehow gone all wrong. There was that hint of gossip she’d heard; something about an affair with a sales associate who had disappeared and missing money… Her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. Had Ryne flown into a rage, murdered the woman and was now hiding out? It certainly would explain his reticence!
Forcing herself to rein in her imagination, she tried to consider her theory with calm logic. He wasn’t eager for an interview, but that didn’t make him a criminal. The woman was missing, but maybe she’d run off with the money to some tropical island. And Ryne was considering an interview not flat-out refusing. Surely, a murderer would have said no right away.
Feeling relieved that her wild imaginings were, in all likelihood, just that, she climbed out of the car and wandered over to the edge of the cabin where she stared at the forest beyond. It was frustrating, having to wait—especially since patience wasn’t her strong suit, but grinding her teeth and getting all in a stir would serve no purpose. Willing herself to relax, she inhaled deeply, letting the crisp early spring air invade her lungs. Taylor was getting under her skin and he wasn’t even here; that would never do. She needed to calm down and take things one step at a time. There was no firm time line. Just because she, herself, had decided on a week in Stump River, didn’t mean it couldn’t take longer. Aldrich said Greyson would allow her up to a year to complete the task if need be. Maybe Greyson knew something about Taylor already—such as the fact that he was shy and didn’t like interviews. That would explain things a bit.
Leaning against the side of the cabin, Mel tried to resign herself to the idea that she would probably be here longer than she thought. She consoled herself with the fact that it didn’t really matter—well except for the lack of decent latte. No one was waiting for her in Chicago. She had quit both of her waitressing jobs and paid her rent for the next month. Maybe she should look on her time here as a vacation. Aldrich couldn’t complain if she had nothing in particular to report. Having to wait for Taylor’s decision wasn’t her fault.
Closing her eyes, she made herself focus on the sensation of the warm sun beating down on her. After a long, snowy winter it felt good to absorb the rays. By the time summer came, she’d be back in Chicago with waves of blistering heat bouncing off the pavement and everyone would be worrying about the UV levels. See? Here was something positive. For this moment in time, she could just enjoy the sun.
With her eyes closed, her other senses heightened; the solid wood of the cabin behind her, the slight breeze that caused her hair to brush against her cheek. In the distance, birds were twittering and an occasional squirrel chattered. Water steadily dripped off the edge of the roof and hit the ground in a dull rhythm as the remaining snow, trapped in the eaves troughs, melted.
She could feel the coiled tension unwinding from her shoulders and her jaw. Why had she allowed herself to get so upset over Taylor? It didn’t really matter if he took his time making his decision. As long as he eventually agreed, that was all that counted.
Mel gave a little chuckle. As a matter of fact, the longer he took the better. It meant more down time for her. She could do some writing; put some polish on articles she wanted to submit for publishing. Maybe she’d even get a repeat of last night’s dream—now that was something to look forward to.
Pushing off from the wall, she glanced down and noticed a few bits of green poking out of the ground. She frowned, not being a gardening expert, and wondered what might be growing this early in the spring. Crocus maybe? She bent down to take a closer look and then nearly fell back in surprise. Large paw prints were evident in the mud right under her bedroom window. Even more surprising were two sets of large human foot prints—just two. One set was facing towards the cabin, and the other was facing away. Mel stood and studied the surrounding ground carefully. There were no human prints leading to her cabin, nor away. How could that be? The ground was soft and even her slig
ht weight was leaving indentations in the soil.
Stepping back, she studied the roof line, the location of the porch, and the walls of the cabin. Could someone have come down off the roof? Possibly, but how did they get up there? It was quite high and she saw no sign of a ladder. Technically, she supposed a very determined person could even have stood on the porch and then scrambled to the window without touching the ground. The cracks and crevices between the logs would provide toe and finger holds, but why would anyone go to all that trouble? It made no sense. And why were they outside her bedroom window?
A frisson of fear jolted through her as several unpalatable possibilities popped into her head. Regardless of how they got there, someone had been peering in her bedroom window. Had they watched her sleeping? Changing her clothes? Mel shivered and wondered how much screening the thin curtains on the window provided. She hadn’t even checked if they were closed properly, thinking that it didn’t matter, out here in the middle of nowhere. What if the person had come back and broken in while she was gone today? What if they were still inside? Looking at the cabin with something akin to horror, she backed away until she was halfway across the yard, then turned and ran to the Kennedys’, intent on calling the police, just in case.
*****
Mel pounded on the Kennedys’ door and almost immediately Beth appeared, a paint brush in her hand. She’d been repainting the bedroom when Mel had stopped by earlier and was still engaged in the task from the looks of things.
“Melody? I’m surprised to see you again. Is something wrong?”
“Well, sort of. I think… I mean, there’s a possibility… You see, there were these footprints… ” She was having trouble catching her breath and organizing her thoughts after her headlong flight.
“Slow down; you’re not making any sense. Come on in and sit down and we’ll talk about whatever has you so upset.”
Mel gratefully collapsed onto the kitchen chair and pushed her tangled locks back from her face. Running definitely had a detrimental effect on her hair, which was why she avoided the activity whenever possible, she thought inanely. A bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to escape and she squelched it back down. Why was she worrying about her hair at a time like this, yet alone laughing about it? Beth was already looking at her like she was half crazy. No need to add to her suspicions by giggling away like some school girl.
The Keeping Page 9