by Alisa Craig
So it was, and a good thing, too. The muskeg began to appear a shade less drab.
“You wanted me to keep you posted on the news from Pitcherville, so here goes. My sister-in-law Annabelle and the boys are back home, and needless to say happy to be here. The kids are dreadfully upset at missing the chance to meet a real live Mountie.”
It was not right to disappoint children. They might develop a trauma or something. Decidedly he had a duty to remedy that situation.
“I’ve decided to go back to that same job I had in Saint John. They’ve asked me to and at first I thought I wouldn’t because of what I suppose you might call personality conflicts, but that just doesn’t seem important to me any more.”
The muskeg was assuming a definitely rosy hue.
“I borrowed Bert’s car Friday and drove Marion up to visit Gilly and Elmer. They couldn’t be happier and asked particularly to be remembered to you. It did seem a shame for Elmer to give up his place at the lumber mill, but now I realize how smart they were to get clear away from here. Elmer is doing well at his new job and they have a cute little place. Only four rooms and a sort of cubbyhole, plus a nice bathroom, but Gilly keeps it neat as the proverbial (did I spell that right?) pin, even though they have to heat with wood and you know what that means.”
A teakettle at the simmer and your feet getting warm in the oven. Rhys pulled the collar of his parka up around his ears and turned the page.
“You can imagine how the tongues are wagging! Some of the ladies from the Tuesday Club went down to the hospital to visit Mrs. Druffitt and they say she’s gone completely around the bend now. She told them Gilly’s married to Prince Charles and they’re living up at the Mansion and driving a Rolls-Royce car. She talks freely about killing Mrs. Treadway and the others . . . can’t seem to recall why she did it, but is sure it was the right thing to do!!!”
“Of course her old buddies are telling all sorts of stories now about how they always suspected Elizabeth had a screw loose somewhere because she was so determined to make everybody think the Emerys were so special when they were anything but!! Funny that nobody happened to remember that all those years when they were letting her queen it over them, wouldn’t you say? I suppose the real craziness began when she got to believing it herself.”
“I know I should feel charitable and forgiving toward her, but I still get boiling mad every time I think of dear old Mrs. Treadway—I do wish you could have known her!—and poor Dot Fewter getting herself dolled up to go out and get slaughtered. Oddly enough, Mrs. Fewter is taking Mrs. Druffitt’s part. She thinks it’s mean of Gilly not to visit her mother. She’ says Dot would have gone if she’d been the one to get put away. THAT I can believe!”
“If you ask me, Gilly won’t go because she’s afraid her mother will have a lucid moment and say something against Elmer. She told me herself she wouldn’t be able to stand that, even though she now realizes that Mrs. Druffitt was probably never 100 per cent sane. She says it still gives her the willies every time Bobby puts a stick on the fire (he’s gained at least ten pounds, by the way, and looks great). She’s more bothered about the murders her mother didn’t commit than the ones she did. I must say I think about that sometimes, myself. Goodness knows what she might have done if you hadn’t come in and stopped her! I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you for coming to the rescue!”
Rhys had a few suggestions all lined up to make about that as soon as a suitable opportunity presented itself.
“Anyway, Pitcherville has a new grande dame now. The Lady of the Mansion sends her very warmest greetings. She was pretty shattered when she found out you really are a bachelor and connected with that Rhys-Brown family that used to own all those copper mines (meow!). Not that she lacks company, I must say, with Sam Neddick still camping in her hayloft and hoping for the best!!! And Jason Bain came chugging up the other day with a big bunch of slightly wilted flowers out of a greenhouse he’d just foreclosed on. He evidently figures if he can’t get hold of the property one way, he might as well try another.”
“After the peaceful summer I’ve had here, I’m rather looking forward to Saint John as a restful change. The girls I was living with before have taken on a new roommate so I’ll be staying with a cousin of Annabelle’s till I can find a place of my own. Here’s her address in case you happen to be down that way and feel the urge to look me up. Having already lost my appendix, I promise I’ll try not to embarrass you in public!”
As Rhys refolded the letter and tucked it carefully into his breast pocket along with other vital documents, the tiny plane hit an air pocket and dropped about two hundred feet. That was how it went in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. You left your heart in one place and your stomach in another. He smiled tenderly down at the rose-covered muskeg and began to hum, “Oh Rose Marie, I love you.”
“That’s kind of a pretty tune,” the pilot observed. “What is it, one of those old Welsh folk songs?”
Rhys quit humming and kept his eyes on the ground. They’d be landing soon. Somewhere down on that apparently barren wasteland, the quarry he’d followed so far from Fredericton was waiting. He didn’t intend to lose much more time on this case. As soon as he’d got his man and reported back to headquarters, he had a really tough assignment to tackle. Somehow, he must wangle a pass down to Saint John and get his woman.