Tainted Mountain

by Shannon Baker

  She thought the death of her husband, revelation of his betrayal, and looming financial ruin might be more than she could take in one day. And yet, the black cloud just got darker.

  Maybe she could walk back up the trail like the Von Trapp family at the end of The Sound of Music. Just run away. She’d trudge onward until she found sanctuary.

  “You go,” she said to Charlie. “I’m heading up the mountain to find a place to sit until I petrify.”

  Charlie frowned down the trail. A crowd milled in the lot, but Charlie’s sole focus was Gary something or other in his uniform.

  Cole Huntsman stood next to the cop, probably spilling his guts about Bimbo accusing Nora of murder. And Big Elk stood in the middle of a circle of protesters like a ringmaster. With the righteous following, this circus wasn’t short on clowns. A dozen or so Native Americans and the Guilty White People chanted “Make love, not snow.” As bad as all that seemed, what froze Nora’s blood and made her want to swallow a cyanide pill was what had just stepped out of a taxi.

  Abigail.

  Charlie sucked in a breath of awe. “I am in love.”

  Cold sweat slicked Nora’s forehead. “Forget it, Charlie. Abigail is like carbon monoxide. You don’t realize how deadly she is.”

  “Abigail. The name sings as if spoken by the hosts of heaven.”

  Right on schedule the news van pulled up and a camera woman jumped out. Big Elk had to be disappointed the crew was local. Still, a network affiliate left hope for national exposure.

  Charlie all but floated down the path. “Who is this vision?”

  Reluctantly Nora followed. “My mother. Abigail the Perfect.”

  Abbey trotted down the trail like a one-tail welcoming comm-

  ittee.

  From their location on the trail, Nora could hear Big Elk’s booming voice. He held his hand out to quiet the chanters. “This is our sacred mountain, home to the kachinas since the beginning of the Fourth World. When our Hopi brothers and sisters received responsibility to balance the world, they agreed to protect the Mother and this sacred home.”

  The minivan that served as Flagstaff’s taxi sat in the parking lot. As if spotlighted by the sun, Abigail stood in her beige silk suit and gold sandals, her arms crossed, scowling at the demonstration.

  The sanctuary of the lodge sat across the minefield of the parking lot.

  Run back up the trail while you still can. But Nora knew she couldn’t hide on the mountain forever; they’d already hauled off the beer.

  The taxi driver reached into the back of the van and brought out an enormous tapestry-covered suitcase. He hefted it onto his shoulder, picked up a smaller bag, and started up the path to the lodge. Nora saw that two large suitcases and a couple of smaller bags already sat on the deck.

  Charlie’s joy was unmistakable. “It appears she’s here for a long spell.”

  “Hard to say how long she plans on staying. Being fabulous requires supplies.” A tiny Abigail troll appeared at the base of Nora’s neck and turned a control knob from 0 to 1, sparking a headache in her temples.

  Big Elk raised his arms like a televangelist. “The fire-bearer of the mountain is demanding we listen to him. If we don’t stop the desecration, he will bring fire to the mountain.”

  Charlie didn’t take his eyes off Abigail. “I only want to bask in her presence.”

  “You don’t know what you’re in for.” Nora now set a determined pace for the lodge and Charlie fell in beside her. Together they walked across the parking lot. Involved in his performance, Big Elk didn’t notice Nora. Too bad. She’d rather face Big Elk and his evangelistic army than greet Abigail.

  Nora took a deep breath and braced herself. “Hello, Abigail.”

  Abigail spun around. A reactionary frown flitted across her face. She quickly rearranged her face in a show of sorrow, probably practiced in front of a mirror. Abigail opened her arms. “Baby! Oh, baby. Mother’s here.”

  Nora had stopped just outside her mother’s reach. She wondered how much rehearsal Abigail had done to get her words and facial expressions just right. The parking lot full of protesters might have thrown a less experienced performer for a loop, but Abigail excelled at improvisation.

  Nora rubbed her temples. “What are you doing here?”

  “Excuse me.” The authoritative voice behind her could only belong to a cop. Gary Something or Other approached Nora.

  Abigail looked confused that Nora hadn’t run into her arms. “Where else would I be when my baby needs me so?”

  Hawaii? Italy? Outer Mongolia? “I thought you were on an Alaskan cruise.”

  Officer Gary stepped closer. “May I have a word with you?”

  Abbey pushed his head under Abigail’s hand. Her upper lip curled slightly and she pulled her hand away. “I caught a plane at the first dock as soon as I heard. I knew you’d need my help planning the services.”

  Welcome to the Abigail Show, Nora thought.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you today.” Gary’s persistent and official formality grated on her nerves.

  Cole inserted himself between the cop and Nora. “Then why are you? I asked you to come back tomorrow.”

  Enough of Cole’s rescuing. Even though she didn’t want to talk to Gary, she said, “What’s going on with Alex Sewe-something? The guy that attacked me.”

  He hesitated. “Alex Seweingyawma. We’re sure he’s hiding on the Hopi reservation.” Obviously, this wasn’t the topic the cop had come to discuss.

  “He’s still missing?”

  “We don’t consider him a threat to you at this time.”

  Charlie nudged Nora with the pine box and gushed at Abigail. “How kind of you to fly to your daughter’s side.”

  Traitor.

  Abigail’s Mary Kay smile froze on her lips.

  The cop attempted to bring the focus back to business. “This is an urgent matter.”

  “And a murderer running loose isn’t?” Nora asked.

  “ … fire on the mountain.” Big Elk’s bleating ceased making sense to Nora’s addled brain.

  “That about does it, Mrs. Stoddard.” The taxi driver returned to Abigail as if approaching a sacred altar, having deposited the last of the matching baggage on the deck.

  Abigail pulled a bill out of a small bag dangling from her shoulder on a long gold chain. With both hands she pressed it into the taxi driver’s palm. “You must call me Abigail, Ted. Thank you so much for all your help. I would have been lost without you.”

  Shoot me now. The troll at the base of Nora’s head clicked the knob to 3 and her headache traded in amateur for professional status.

  Cole lowered his chin, a big horned sheep readying for battle with Officer Gary. “Why not make yourself helpful and get rid of that asshole?” He pointed to Big Elk.

  Gary glared at Cole but shifted his focus to Big Elk. “He is an asshole.” He marched to the protesters and raised his voice above Big Elk’s, ordering them to disperse, but Big Elk wouldn’t take that lying down.

  “The whole world will shake and turn red and fight against those hindering the Hopi.”

  The picketers took up their stupid “Make love not snow” refrain while Big Elk and Gary had words. Bless Cole’s heart for calling off Big Elk and Gary with one remark. Now, if he could just make Abigail disappear Nora might forgive his environmental activism and even promise him her firstborn. Not that she’d ever have a firstborn with her husband gone. Her heart squeezed yet again.

  Abigail flashed Cole a dazzling smile. “Could you be a dear and take my bags from the deck up to the apartment? That dog of Nora’s is likely to get underfoot and those stairs are so treacherous. I’m afraid I’ll fall and break my neck.”

  “No! This man is not your servant.”

  Charlie looked ready to jump. “I’ll haul your bags to heaven if that’s your wish.�
�

  Cole smiled at Nora. “It’s okay.”

  Nora looked straight ahead, her neck stiff. “It’s not okay.”

  Abigail’s tone set Nora’s teeth on edge. “Really, Nora. There’s no need to be so prickly. Here is this young, strapping man willing to help us out.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of dealing with your bags. It doesn’t make me more of a woman to act helpless and stupid.”

  Abigail drew in a breath of offense. “Same Nora, always cutting off your nose to spite your face.”

  The scene in the parking lot was getting to be too much. All Nora wanted was to curl up in a ball and ignore the betrayal she felt at Scott’s lies.

  Balancing the pine box with one arm, Charlie pulled a Pabst Blue Ribbon from a jacket pocket. He held it out to Abigail. “Can I offer you a beverage?”

  Abigail stood as if she’d turned to a pillar of salt.

  Cole meanwhile strode ahead. Lean and tall, he looked like he spent more time outside than in, probably camping and living off the land. A younger and less crusty version of Charlie. Nora imagined that, like Charlie in his radical days, Cole wouldn’t hesitate to protect nature with violence if he thought it necessary. He kept turning up at all the right times and acting helpful, but she figured his agenda dealt more with finding her vulnerabilities. But if his issue was uranium mining and his nemesis Barrett McCreary, why would he be stalking her? Nora couldn’t begin to sort that out.

  Undaunted by Abigail’s rejection, Charlie pulled the tab on the proffered beer and took a gulp. He smiled and delivered his normal opening line. “Looks like rain.”

  Abigail jerked her head to the cloudless sky and shot Charlie an offended look.

  Nora smiled and felt a slight decrease in the pounding in her temples. “A toad strangler.”

  “I like an optimist.”

  Abigail walked next to Nora and put a hand on her arm. She kept her voice low and barely moved her lips. “Who is this person?”

  “This is my friend Charlie.”

  It didn’t take Queen Abigail long to assert her authority. She eyed Charlie. “I’m Nora’s mother and this isn’t a good time for a visit. She’s suffering stress and needs to rest.”

  If what Jim Bowie went through at the Alamo was called stress, maybe you could say Nora’s day was stressful. “Charlie is my friend and he’s always welcome.” Even if he is struck with momentary insanity and thinks you’re a goddess.

  Officer Gary had temporarily won the battle with Big Elk. Either that or the news crew shot their footage and sound bite and Big Elk had no more incentive to hang around. The chanting had subsided and the protesters now climbed into their vehicles, slammed doors, and started engines.

  Nora trudged up the stairs to the deck. Abigail tapped up behind her, probably struggling to keep her sandal heels from getting stuck in the metal grating. Charlie followed them.

  Cole waited next to the luggage. “Where do you want these?”

  “Timbuktu.” Nora headed for the apartment stairs. The world could turn or stop for all she cared. She wanted to climb into bed. “Abbey, come.”

  Abigail folded her arms. “I wish you hadn’t named your dog that way.”

  “He’s named … ”

  Abigail’s annoyed voice finished, “I know, after Edward Abbey. An anarchist.”

  Charlie perked up. “Ed Abbey was a god.”

  “A great environmentalist, Mother.”

  “Now she calls me Mother.”

  As opposed to Queen of Darkness? Nora’s inner voice snarked.

  Abigail tried to enlist Cole to her side. “I think she calls him Abbey to annoy me. I don’t know why she couldn’t call him Rover or Spot.”

  With a straight face and slow, serious drawl Cole said, “He doesn’t really have any spots.”

  For the first time in days, Nora almost laughed.

  Abigail reestablished her calm and smiled at Cole. “You can take those upstairs to the apartment. I need to get settled in so we can discuss the funeral.”

  Oh lord. “We had the ceremony today.”

  Abigail’s eyes widened. “Today? What church?”

  Nora squared her shoulders. “No church. We did it up on the mountain. We just got back.”

  “What?”

  Nora didn’t reply, sort of enjoying the strangling sound coming out of Abigail.

  “Did you say you just came back?” Abigail sputtered.

  Nora nodded “Yep.”

  She couldn’t have sounded more shocked if she heard Nora really had murdered Scott. “And you wore … jeans?”

  “It’s hard to wear heels on the trail, Mother.”

  Abigail waved in Charlie’s direction, indicating the box. “And that … ?”

  “Is Scott’s ashes.” Nora stomped over and took the box.

  Though Scott’s unusual ceremony must have thrown Abigail’s world off kilter, she recovered quickly. She tossed her head, sending her bob fluttering. “You look tired.”

  My husband is dead. I just found out he was cheating on me. Again. My business is drying up and I’m not sure I care. I’m being stalked by an abnormally large and angry Native American who would like to see me dead. A rabid activist calls me names on the news. Some strange masked man appears and disappears in the forest. A confusing and probably dangerous environmentalist keeps hanging around being weirdly nice. And now the woman who tortured me all my life, the one who makes me throw up and have diarrhea at the same time, the diva of demons, just dropped in for a visit.

  “I haven’t been sleeping,” Nora said.

  Abigail hurried to her bags. While Charlie and Abbey watched, Abigail bent to one of the smaller bags and rummaged inside. She held up a small bottle. “This is absolutely the best concealer on the market.” She handed it to Nora. “We’ll have you looking decent in no time.”

  The troll gave the knob a good crank to 6.

  Cole picked up a suitcase. “I think Nora looks great.” An obvious lie, but greatly appreciated.

  Abigail smiled at Cole. “It’s a woman thing.”

  Cole started up the stairs. Nora shouldn’t allow him up to her apartment in case he wanted to plant a bomb or something. But it seemed that being blown up might actually be better than lugging her mother’s bags up the steep flight. Exhaustion didn’t begin to cover what she felt. Nora moved aside to let Cole pass.

  Thudding on the metal stairs alerted her to Officer Gary. He stepped onto the deck and walked to Nora.

  Cole stopped. “Didn’t we decide you’d come back tomorrow?”

  Gary spared him a stern look and turned to Nora. “I know this is a bad time but I need to ask you to not leave town for a few days.”

  “Sure. I’ll cancel my Mexican vacation.” It was stupid to be belligerent with cops, but Nora was beyond reason.

  Charlie held his fist in the air, some hippy symbol of power to the people. “Unless you have a warrant, you’re harassing my friend.”

  Abigail put her hands on her hips and stared down Charlie. “You stay out of this.” She flashed Gary a smile. “I’m sorry, Officer. It has been a trying day, what with a funeral and those people in the parking lot and I don’t even know why they were here. Nora’s nerves are shot.”

  Okay, maybe Abigail had her usefulness. She spoke with a tone of warm tea. “Nora doesn’t intend on traveling, of course. Can you tell me what this is all about?”

  Gary studied Abigail and let out a deep breath. He addressed Nora. “There is evidence of foul play in the death of Scott Abbott. As his wife, you are an official person of interest.”

  The deck tipped and swayed. Scott’s box hit the deck and for the second time that afternoon, let loose the bag of his ashes.

  “Scott was … ?” She couldn’t say it.

  “Murdered,” Gary finished.

  A suitcase h
it the stairs behind her and tumbled after Scott’s ashes just before Cole’s arms closed around her and kept her from doing the same.

  Eleven

  One was not required to bang the frying pan on the stove, slam the cupboard door, and clang the lid to make eggs. Yet Abigail never had mastered the art of making breakfast with the volume turned down. Nora wanted nothing more than to sleep again.

  She rolled over and squinted her eyes. The vast empty bed bored a hole into her chest.

  If what Bimbo said was true, Scott had posted the vacant sign over Nora’s bed long ago. She’d been one argument away from sending him packing herself. It didn’t stop the pain welling in her chest, nearly stopping her heart.

  Murder. Her eyes flew open with the thud in her chest. It made no sense. Suspecting Nora as the murderer would be logical, though. No one else was ever angry with him. If Cole had told Gary about Bimbo’s accusations, not even suitcase carrying could clear him of suspicions in Nora’s mind.

  Had someone really killed Scott? It had to be that Alex guy. After all, he’d attempted to murder Nora two, maybe three times already. Scott had died as collateral damage, an exchange for Nora. Which only made her feel guilty on top of battered.

  The door swung open and Nora held her breath. Maybe Abigail would see her sleeping, take pity, and leave her alone.

  No such luck.

  “It’s eight o’clock. You can’t stay in bed forever.”

  Nora rolled away. “Yes I can.”

  The blinds zipped up, the window slid back, and the cawing of a crow exploded into the room. “I know it hurts, baby. But you have to put your life back together and the sooner you start the better.”

  “Why do you hate me? I tried to be a good daughter.”

  Abigail tsked. “None of that self-pity.”

  Even if she wanted to, Nora couldn’t rise. Her body morphed into something made of a substance more dense than lead.

  “It’s a new day. You can’t hide away.”

  “I’m not hiding, Mother. I’m mourning.”

  Abigail sat on the side of the bed and patted Nora’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about Scott’s passing, of course. But he wasn’t the quality person you deserve.”