by Vikki Walton
Small compared to most cities, this quaint place of around four thousand had instantly soothed her hurting soul. Choosing to settle in a town with one main street and three major cross streets had made her happy. For the first time in a very long time, she’d felt at peace.
Even better, she wasn’t that far from Main Street. No tract homes here. Rows of Victorian-style houses dotted the wide, tree-lined roads. Her own little cul-de-sac of such magnificent homes, reminiscent of an era long past, had made her decision to move here even easier. She could finally live in an older home like she preferred instead of the modern glass and metal monstrosity Duke had insisted on during their marriage. Even better, they could have easily walked to town, instead of making the ten-minute drive. Trails intersected throughout the area providing a way for people to walk, run, or bike in the beautiful Colorado weather.
Kandi parked in front of a shop with a soft butter- yellow awning over the windows. The awning’s color echoed other shops down the street. Each shop presented its persona through its choice of designs and fonts. On this shop, a vines-and-flowers motif had been used with the words Herbal Lotions and Potions printed in a fluid script.
“Come on. She’s waiting.” Kandi beckoned, then stopped, glancing toward her left as a woman’s voice carried over to them.
“Who would have done this most horrible deed?” A statuesque woman, her skin the color of coffee with cream, stood a few spots up the street behind a silver BMW.
The woman reached down with the grace of a ballerina and picked something off the street. Straightening, she turned toward Kandi and Anne. She strode toward them like a model owning the runway in her Ferragamos.
“Hel-lo.” Her exotic voice flowed with the enunciation of each syllable. The woman nodded at Anne, the straightened locks of her bobbed haircut cupped her chin.
Anne cringed when she remembered her uncombed bed hair, her wrinkled and stained dress, and her muddy clogs. Even though she wanted to crawl into a gutter, far, far away from this magnificent creature, Anne felt no judgment in her eyes. The woman smiled She smiled back.
Instinctively, Anne liked this woman of propriety and beauty, even though they couldn’t have been more different in appearance or manner.
“Hi, Eliza.” Kandi slung her red purse onto her shoulder.
“Kandi,” she said in a lyrical, British-sounding accent, “did you happen to see who may have damaged my vehicle?” She held out a piece of red plastic. “I’d left my car in town during my trip and it must have been hit sometime today.
“Sorry, Eliza. We just arrived. What happened?”
“It appears someone has backed into my automobile, and, unfortunately, left no notice of insurance or contact information. As you can see my taillight is broken and my bumper damaged.”
“Let’s take a look.” Kandi led the way and crouched to look at the fender. “Whoever did it, looks like the car was green. So that means it could be, um, Ms. Alice— you know her daughter’s been after her to quit driving— Pete Owens, he drives a green Dodge, Lori Conner has a green Focus, and, like, who else, I remember, someone else, um, oh yeah, Rott—Ralph Rogers. You should call the police, and, like, make a report.”
Carolan Springs might be small but it has to have more than four green cars. What is Kandi thinking?
Anne rubbed her arms as a chill embraced her. These days she was either hot or cold. Maybe she did have the flu.
“Most astute. Thank you, my darling Kandi. I’m sure that whoever did it may not have known they had hit my car. I will determine the best course of action I should take at this point.”
She turned to Anne. “I apologize for my lack of manners. I was—am—in such a state. Please let me be formally introduced to you. My name is Eliza de French.” “Nice to meet you, Eliza. Anne Freemont.” She stuck out her hand, which looked short and stubby compared to Eliza’s long fingers, which were encased in a zebra- striped glove. The designer accessory coordinated with the blouse the woman wore underneath her couture suit jacket.
I remember well-made clothing. But I’ll take simple clothes and happiness any day.
“It is my pleasure to meet you. I must not keep you from your appointment. I hope we will meet again under more pleasant circumstances.” She sashayed back to her vehicle.
“That is one beautiful woman,” Anne said aloud to herself.
“Yes, and she’s always very nice too.” Kandi motioned her to follow.
Anne followed as Kandi spoke over her shoulder, “We’ll have to go this way because Hope has closed up shop for the day. Come on.” She moved toward a narrow passage between the two buildings. They arrived at a side door painted bright purple. Vibrant yellow stars sparkled against the dark background, while a smiling moon looked down on them from an upper corner. Kandi rapped on the door and waited.
The door opened to reveal an elderly woman, even shorter than Kandi, whose gray hair cascaded over one shoulder in a long braid. She wore a flowing orange caftan and turquoise slipper shoes. A big silver necklace and bracelet with the same gem completed the outfit. If Eliza’s smile had shown a gracious kindness, this woman’s emanated peace.
“Hi, Miss Faith.” Kandi gave the woman a light kiss.
The woman called out, “Hope, your young friends are here.” The woman disappeared through another door where Anne glimpsed a popular reality show on the television.
A woman appeared, wiping her hands on a paper towel. She stood about Anne’s height, just shy of five- foot-six, and her chopped brown hair lay close to her head. Her russet eyes sparkled, and her face glowed with health. She wore no makeup or jewelry except for a quartz crystal pendant around her neck. “Hi. You must be Anne. I’m Hope.” She held Anne’s hand in both of her own.
“Hello. Nice to meet you. Sorry to intrude—” Anne replied.
“Not intruding. Right, Hope?” Kandi interjected. “You go ahead. I’m off to the bathroom and a quick visit with Miss Faith.”
Hope beckoned to Anne to follow her into the next room. “Okay, so let’s have a look at you.” Hope stared at Anne’s face. “Would you stick your tongue out, please?” Hope continued her cursory examination, asking Anne questions as she went along. She washed her hands, faced shelving full of jars and boxes, and spoke to herself. “Yes, exactly.”
Exactly what? She heard the door open and turned to see Kandi had rejoined them.
Kandi sat down in a straight-back chair in the corner and lifted her hand over her mouth. Hope laughed at Anne’s confusion about Kandi’s antics. “Kandi knows that I need people to be quiet so I can concentrate during exams.” She smiled at Kandi. “That’s more of a challenge for some people than others.”
Kandi laughed heartily, then clamped her hands back over her mouth.
“Now we just need hear no evil and see no evil.” At Anne’s remark, they all burst out in laughter, easing the tension that permeated the room.
Hope returned to her task and moved from one area to another, adding herbs to a small container. From a woodstove in the corner, she took a teapot and poured water into a cup. After Hope added the herbal brew to the cup, a fragrant aroma filled the air.
She turned over a tea timer, the sand pouring through to the bottom. As the last bit of sand fell through on the timer, she removed the tea ball and handed the steaming cup to Anne. “Drink.”
Anne took a sip. It had a bitter taste but also a sweet note at the end. “What—”
“No talking until you finish. And no need to hurry. Take your time. We’ll wait.” She motioned Kandi to join her and the two left the room.
Anne sank back into the overstuffed chair. The tea’s warmth soothed and calmed her. She’d almost finished the cup when Hope returned.
“So,” began Hope, plunking herself down on a rolling stool, “tired, weepy, brain fog, missed periods?” Anne nodded as Hope continued. “And when did the fall happen?”
Anne stared at her. This woman must be a psychic. “I…I—” Anne tried to gather her thoughts. De
finitely weepy. Tired. Forgetful.
Hope continued. “How long have you been going through menopause?”
“Wha—I’m not…noooo.” She shook her head. “Am I?”
Hope patted her hand. “Yes. It affects each woman differently but we all experience the change when we move from fertility to crone.”
She just called me a crone. Anne’s anger bubbled. She started to rise.
“Yep, you’ve got it. Indignant over little things. By the way, crone isn’t a derogatory term. It’s just you coming into the age of wisdom. How do you feel, by the way?”
“Better.” Anne relaxed back into the chair.
“Great. I wanted to test out that herbal combination before I gave you some to take with you.” She rolled the stool away from the chair and stood up. Anne rose and set the cup down on the adjacent table. Hope handed Anne a bag of herbal tea mix.
“You need to come back and see me. We’ll take a more detailed medical history, have some blood work done, and”—she squeezed Anne’s arm—“get you some hormonal help. As for your fall, take a long bath with Epsom salts and use this.” She grabbed a packet from under the counter marked arnica . “You’ll feel much better tomorrow.”
“How did you know I fell?”
She smiled. “The old-fashioned way. Kandi told me.
Plus, you’re limping a bit.”
She then hugged her, which made Anne tear up again. Hope pulled back and looked into Anne’s face, “Menopause.”
Anne had expected change, but not quite like this.
That set her to some real crying.
Anne tore off the calendar page. Had it already been almost a month? She smiled as she poured steaming coffee into her mug. As she had done on almost every morning since arriving, she marveled at the lovely forest view through her kitchen window. The sun cast a beautiful glow over the backyard as it welcomed the day. Last night’s rain had made everything clean and fresh. Though the first few weeks had been a bit hectic, things were finally coming together, and many boxes were now empty of their contents. Pushing up her sweater sleeves, Anne added cream to her cup. Cupping the mug in both hands, she took a sip. Anne sighed, content with life.
She set the cup on the counter so she could open the window wider. As it moved up the track, Anne heard Kandi’s voice from Ralph’s yard.
“Stop! Nooooo, stop!”
The rebel hen must have gotten out of the run—again.
Ralph isn’t going to be happy.
Let the axe fall where it may. She had no intention of heading over and joining the melee this time. If it was on a chicken’s neck, so be it. She took another swig of the welcome morning brew and waited for the exchange between Kandi and Ralph.
Instead only the whisper of wind came through the window.
Too quiet.
The hairs on her arm stood up. She cocked her ear toward the window. No sound. She stood still, listening. Her stomach knotted.
A piercing scream. Kandi.
The distress within the scream shocked Anne. The mug slipped from her hand and broke on the sink edge. Coffee splattered on the counter and floor. Without a moment’s hesitation, Anne dashed out the back door and sprinted across the yard.
Kandi’s cries grew more frantic. “No, no. Help!
Somebody! Help!”
Ralph must have killed the chicken. Ralph, it’s just tomatoes. If you killed Kandi’s chicken, I’m going to kill you.
Anne sprinted across the yard. As she rounded the hedge, she stopped short.
On her knees at the edge of the compost pile, Kandi rocked back and forth, staring down at her hands. Blood stained her palms. Her beige pants, now dark with horrific markings, revealed where she’d tried to wipe blood off her hands.
Anne gasped when she saw Ralph on his back in the compost pile, staring unseeing into the sky, his shirt saturated in blood.
Chapter Three
“Kandi.” Anne took a step forward. Their eyes met. Kandi stared down at her hands and shivered violently. She whimpered.
Anne rushed over and knelt beside her. Goading Kandi to move back from the pile, Anne knelt next to her and helped her scoot back. As she stood and brushed off the damp knees of her pants, Anne’s foot slipped. She stumbled. Ralph needs to stabilize this compost area.
What am I thinking? He will never fix anything again.
With a quick glance at Kandi, Anne ran back to her house. She grabbed her cell phone. Shakily, she punched in 9-1-1.
A woman answered. “Sheriff’s office. What is your emergency?”
“I want to report a—” A what, an accident? A–no, it can’t be—a murder?
“Hello. Ma’am. What’s your name?” The voice crisp and concise.
“Anne. I’m Anne.” It’s so cold.
“Okay, Anne. Where are you calling from?” “From my phone.” Anne’s hand shook.
“Ma’am, I understand you are calling from a phone.
Where are you?”
Why is the room spinning?
“Ma’am? Hello—Anne. Are you still there?”
“Yes. I don’t… I don’t feel very well.” Anne struggled to concentrate. Bile rose in her throat.
“Are you standing?” The woman’s voice sounded like it was in a tunnel.
“Yes.” Anne wiped at her brow, now clammy to the touch.
“Please sit down now, and put your head between your legs. But do not hang up. Understand?”
“Yes.” Anne sat down just as her legs gave way. She bent over and tried to take deep breaths.
“Ma’am—Anne? Are you there? Can you put your phone on speaker?”
Anne nodded. “Done.”
“Anne, now can you tell me where you are located?” “I’m in the kitchen. I mean, 470 Drury Lane.” She tried to focus.
“Good. Now can you tell me what the problem is?” “Ralph’s dead.” Anne’s voice was quiet.
“And who is Ralph?” the woman asked in a crisp voice.
“My neighbor. Mr. Rogers.” Anne’s voice caught as she spoke.
Silence on the other end.
She thinks I’m kidding.
Angrily, Anne spat out “This isn’t a joke. My neighbor, Ralph Rogers, is dead!” She broke down crying.
“Ma’am, it’s going to be okay. We have officers on their way. Just stay in your—”
“Oh, no. Kandi!” Anne shook herself back to attention. Her heart raced.
“Ma’am? Hello, hello? Stay with me, Anne.”
Anne didn’t answer. Grabbing the phone, she shot out of the back door, yelling, “Kandi, I’m coming!” She sprinted across the yard and past the bushes.
Kandi was still on her knees, clutching her arms tightly to herself, rocking back and forth. The blood on her hands smeared her shirt sleeves. Kandi’s teeth chattered, and her lips looked bluish. “You left me! How could you do that to me again?” Tears rolled down her cheeks.
She’s going into shock.
Anne dropped the phone into her sweater pocket. She came around behind Kandi and pulled her into an embrace. “It’s okay. I’m here now. Help’s coming,” she whispered. She smoothed Kandi’s hair off her forehead and intoned, “its okay, its okay,” as she rocked the young woman.
Sirens called from the distance.
“Help’s coming. We’re okay.” Soon she heard the squealing of tires on gravel and people scrambling around her yard.
She turned her head and bellowed, “We’re over here!” A man in a blue uniform rounded the clump of bushes. Kandi turned and buried her face against Anne,
seeking refuge as a chick does with a mother hen.
Men and women in uniforms rushed toward them. Two of them eased Anne away from Kandi. They led her toward a stand of aspens. Others bent over Ralph, checking for signs of life.
Trying to focus her jumbled thoughts, Anne welcomed a soft blanket being placed over her shoulders. At the same time, someone spoke to her from a deep well. Even with the blanket, she felt so, so cold. Dizzy.
A man spoke. “Call it. Time of death—seven twenty- five a.m.”
Kandi’s scream punctured the air. The world turned black.
Anne awoke to a flash of light in front of her eyes. She blinked and moved her head, which brought back the dizziness. What happened? She tried to sit up.
“Nope, not yet,” a man chided. “You’ve had a shock. You fainted, but you’re okay. You’re going to be fine. Just lie there for a little while longer.”
Anne opened her eyes and spied a man beside her. As her gaze dropped, she saw a masculine hand wrapped around her own. He squeezed her hand with a light reassurance. She moved her gaze upward until her eyes rested on the man’s face. Light brown stubble covered the lower part of his face, but it failed to hide the dimple that grew more pronounced as his smile widened.
Where am I? What’s going on? She blinked, trying to clear her mind.
Her leaden eyelids refused to stay open. She blinked again. Giving up the fight, she closed her eyes, only to have someone shake her arm.
“Stop.” She pulled away from the hand. “Tired.
Sleep.”
“Sorry, no sleep for you for a bit.” The man cajoled in a soothing voice, “I bet you’re hungry. Doesn’t some breakfast sound good?”
Anne heard the distinctive rip of a blood pressure cuff being pulled off her arm.
“Go ’way.” She tried to jerk her hand free. “No can do. Can you tell me your name?” “Anne Freemont.”
“Okay, Ms. Freemont. Can you tell me the day?”
“Today.”
“Yes. It’s today. But what day is it?”
Anne rolled her eyes upward, as if the elusive day could be found there, sitting atop her head. “The twelfth?”
“Okay.” She heard a soft, suppressed chuckle. “I meant the day, not the date, but that works too. I think you’re going to be fine. Do you want to try and sit up now?”