Into the Clouds

by Marilyn Leach

  “Whatever you do, put that thing away,” Hugh snapped with volume. It was a rare moment when Hugh became molten.

  Berdie couldn’t help herself. “And how many times have I said that fellow shouldn’t be in law enforcement? And where did he get a gun in the first place?”

  Hugh took a deep breath. “God help us.” His words were a prayer.

  “Well, since it appears no one took a bullet, I’d say He already has,” Berdie quipped.

  Hugh’s eyes encompassed the square. “Yes.”

  “His timing was shoddy as well, cutting off the blessing like that.”

  “Albert was certainly not circumspect in his behavior. Let’s leave it at that,” Hugh advised.

  “As my cousin from York would say, he’s a barn pot.” Jeffrey spoke up. “But then, everyone knows that.”

  “Yes, well, no need to disparage the man. Let’s just be grateful that the lion’s share of today’s activities went well.” Hugh’s knuckles were getting their color back.

  “Right enough, Vicar,” Jeffrey agreed.

  The gathered crowd began to disperse.

  “Right enough,” Berdie echoed. But something inside began to gnaw at her, and it did not feel right enough.

  3

  The savory aroma of salmon emanating from Lillie’s kitchen promised what would be an evening meal fit for a foodie’s delight.

  The flutter of Ascension Sunday activity was, Berdie reckoned, melting into memory.

  “I understand there was a large crowd for the procession and concert today.” Loren leaned back in the dining chair.

  “I wonder if Lillie used thyme. Can you taste thyme mixed in with the goat cheese?” Berdie hoped, between bites of seasoned cheese on squares of toast, to steer the conversation away from work, for both the men. The evening was full of promise after such an active day. A welcomed rest and well-deserved repast with Hugh, Lillie, and Loren lay before her, the candlelight reflecting from glassware like summer evening stars. And Hugh had promised to silence his mobile. A time to converse about leisurely things.

  “Our green barely held everyone,” Hugh said with a ring of contentment.

  “Apparently, many came from Timsley.” Loren took a sip of aperitif. “I should have thought it would appeal to the surrounding villages and hamlets, but why Timsley?”

  “Yes,” Berdie interjected with a bit higher volume, “she used thyme. And very good, too.”

  “Urban dwellers sometimes yearn for that small village sense of community.” Hugh ignored Berdie’s redirect. “I’m assisting the new vicar at St. Mark’s in Timsley to prepare his Whitsun celebration for Sunday next, a fete of sorts. He feels it’s a good way for his parishioners to interact. There’s an ever growing need today to connect with others, and I’m not speaking of just social media. I mean real face-to-face interaction.” Hugh took a sip from his fluted glass.

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you have a point.” Loren’s eyes looked soulful in the candlelight.

  Berdie’s attempt to steer conversation away from work was thwarted, and so she pushed into the conversation. “Or it could have nothing to do with community or belonging. It may have simply been a jolly fun thing to do on a Sunday afternoon.”

  “Berdie.” Hugh paused. “You can go to a film, the pub, or have a sing-song on a ramble in the woods for fun. No, though people enjoyed themselves, it’s far more significant than that.”

  “No one wants to be alone.” Loren stated.

  Lillie swept into the room laden with the tray that held a beautifully presented whole cucumber-dressed salmon, parsley sprinkled couscous, and lemon-buttered asparagus. “Dinner is served.”

  “Bravo,” Hugh cheered. Hugh never complained about Berdie’s simple meals, but his eyes were alight at the exquisite food Lillie presented.

  “And there’s afters. Pavlova with cherries.”

  Berdie adored Lillie’s baked meringue with scoops of fruit, one of her favorites.

  After Lillie placed the food on the table, Loren took her hand and gently tugged. “Now join us.”

  Lillie deposited the tray and sat next to him. “And what have we been chatting about?”

  “Connecting. Belonging to someone.” Loren popped Lillie’s napkin open and laid it on her lap.

  Lillie’s gaze clung to the doctor like leaves to a stalk. Her smile was amorous. “Indeed.”

  “Grace?” Hugh asked.

  Lillie turned her gaze to Berdie. “Would you like Hugh to bless the food?” It was as if Lillie had forgotten there were others at the table.

  “Oh, yes, of course.”

  “Dear Lord,” Hugh began, “for these Your gifts…”

  A soft buzz spilt into the reverent words.

  Dr. Meredith felt the coat pocket where he kept his mobile. A gentle smile let them know the vibrating noise did not belong to him.

  “These Your gifts we are about to receive…”

  Buzz.

  Well, it certainly wasn’t her or Lillie.

  Hugh put his hand on his trouser pocket. His left eyebrow rose. “We give you thanks. Amen,” tumbled from his mouth “Vicar,” Hugh said into the phone already at his ear.

  “Hugh.” Berdie put fire in her voice.

  Lillie looked relieved that it wasn’t her man in the hot seat this time.

  And Hugh was avoiding eye contact all together. “Oh, dear,” Hugh said sternly. “Yes, of course, right away.” Hugh rang off and looked at Lillie. “I do apologize.”

  Berdie crossed her arms. “That’s the second interrupted blessing today.” She wanted to bawl out a protest, but she summoned poise. “You promised to turn that wretched thing off,” she said under her breath.

  “To be fair, love, I said I would silence it, which I did.”

  Berdie looked at the ceiling.

  “You know a parish priest has no real hours of his own.”

  How very well acquainted she was with that fact.

  “Natty Bell has been taken to hospital. Sandra has asked that I come to look in on her. Apparently Natty’s in a state,” Hugh announced.

  “Poor, sweet Natty. Of course you must go.” Lillie’s gaze reflected the sympathy of her words. “She’s at sixes and sevens in the best of times.”

  Berdie felt a flash of guilt. She uncrossed her arms. “Is it serious?”

  “I’ll find out when I get there.” Hugh gave Berdie’s hand a squeeze. “I’m sorry, love.” Hugh’s military exploits had taken him to ports all round the world and now his pastoral duties demanded she share him with an entire village.

  “When you’re finished eating will you see Berdie home, Loren?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll have hot tea and a sandwich waiting for you when you get in,” Berdie promised.

  “Well, that’s me, off, then,” Hugh stood. His gaze scanned the food. This time they held much less sparkle. “I’ll see myself out.”

  “Give Natty our best,” Lillie offered.

  “Well, that’s that, then,” Berdie announced, glum hanging on every word.

  “Now, I could take offense that the two remaining people with you at this table are mere chaff,” Loren teased.

  Berdie grinned. She appreciated his attempt to lighten the mood. “I suppose I could dine with cats and be sublimely elevated,” she countered.

  Both Loren and Berdie had a chuckle.

  “Cats?” Lillie knit her thin shaped brows.

  “They’d love the salmon.” Loren nodded toward the beautifully presented fish.

  “What are you two going on about?” Lillie picked up her fork.

  “Too silly to explain right now,” Loren answered. “I’m famished.”

  “Shall we tuck in?” Lillie was already putting some buttered asparagus on her plate.

  Generous portions were heaped on all three plates, and Berdie couldn’t help but m-m-m.

  “This salmon is superb.” Loren pushed another large forkful into his mouth.

  In the midst of
the contented silence that descended, a knock at the door cut in.

  “Who do you suppose that is? Did Hugh forget something?” Lillie sprang from the table and made way to the hall.

  Berdie formed a mental checklist. Keys? Yes he had them. Mobile? Unfortunately, yes. Wallet? I should think so.

  Lillie re-entered the dining room, a flushed Linden Davies behind her. His sweat-beaded forehead broadcasted his angst. “I’m interrupting,” he observed.

  “Would you like to join us?” Lillie pointed to the empty plate that once was reserved for Hugh.

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, thank you,” his voice cracked. Linden looked at Berdie. “I’m glad you’re here. Actually, I was hoping to locate you.”

  “Me? Really?”

  “It’s just that you were with her.” He wiped moisture from his upper lip. “And I hoped you may have some idea.”

  Berdie put her couscous-laden fork down. “I was with whom?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry. My mother-in-law. It’s just that she’s gone missing.” He heaved, hand on his chest.

  “Gone missing?”

  “But she was at the procession today,” Lillie countered.

  “That’s just it.” Linden raised an open hand and bounced it along with each word. “We’ve not seen or heard from her since that moment. I was hoping perhaps you’d have seen her or spoken with her.”

  Berdie gently nudged the imaginary elephant she remembered from Linden’s interaction with his mother-in-law earlier today. “As I recall, she seemed somewhat agitated, and then went to look for someone.”

  “Yes, my wife and children.” He lifted his chin. “But Elise, my wife, said Olivia never found her. My wife was to take her home.”

  Loren cleared his throat. “If I may, I can understand your concern. But your mother-in-law is an adult, and fully responsible, I assume.”

  “That’s it. She’s very responsible. This is not like her, not at all.” Moisture glistened in Linden’s eye. “The police said they can only get involved straight away if it’s a child or a vulnerable person, like someone with dementia, or if a suspected crime’s involved. Otherwise, they have to wait forty-eight hours, anyway.” He paused. “I told them that she’s a widow and lives alone. But they didn’t see any urgency. We’ve called Olivia’s mobile numerous times today. I’ve been by the house. I’m concerned, but I don’t know what to do next.”

  “Have you been inside the house?” Berdie questioned.

  “No, there was no answer to my knock, I didn’t attempt to go inside.” His eyes grew wide. “Inside. Oh my, you don’t think she could be…”

  “Now you’re dishing the soup before it boils,” Lillie cautioned.

  Linden grabbed the top of the empty chair to steady himself. “I don’t know what I’d do if…” He obviously couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “That’s it, then,” Lillie announced. “Berdie and I will go back to the house with you.”

  Linden’s deep sigh signaled his relief. “Yes, would you, please?”

  Loren scowled.

  “We’d be glad to help, wouldn’t we Berdie?”

  “Right now?” Berdie hesitated, then plunged the fork full of couscous into her mouth.

  “I say,” Loren rumbled.

  “We’ll meet you at your car in a moment,” Lillie assured.

  The moment Linden was out of hearing, Loren spoke. “Lillie, what are you doing?”

  “I’m taking care of a distraught colleague.”

  “Colleague? He’s your music student.”

  Berdie gobbled several asparagus spears.

  “Are you saying my living, breathing student is less important than one of your corpses down at the morgue?” Lillie put her hands on her slim hips.

  “Oh, so that’s what this is about.”

  “Not at all,” Lillie all but shouted.

  Berdie spooned another chunk of salmon from the platter to her plate and made short work of it.

  “Linden’s welfare is important to me. He’s in distress.”

  “His mother-in-law probably took the coach home, and then fancied a country drive.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “So every time he’s stressed he’ll run to you?”

  Lillie lifted her chin. “I will not dignify that ridiculous suggestion with a response.” She fixed her stare on Berdie. “Right, then. Let’s go.”

  Berdie popped one more bite of couscous in her mouth, nodded, and got to her feet.

  “Enjoy the rest of your meal,” Lillie directed toward Loren. “Make sure the door’s latched. Lock up when you leave.” She turned and was already halfway down the hall to the door.

  Berdie recognized a hint of jealousy in Loren’s eyes. “I’d say you may be sailing a bit close to the wind,” Berdie offered the disgruntled doctor, tease in her voice. “Maybe you should get a cat.”

  “Oh, thank you very much, Berdie.” Loren smacked his fork onto his plate.

  Then Berdie, too, exited. Whether Linden’s mother-in-law was truly missing or just not replying, she heard the imaginary trumpeting elephant urge her forward. And the big game hunt was on.

  ****

  Though the structure was completely dark, it was clear that the home of Olivia Mikalos was no small bungalow. The outer edges of Timsley held some grand, new homes with large gardens and this was one of many in this area.

  “Has Olivia appeared depressed, not quite herself of late?” Berdie asked.

  “She hasn’t been dancing about, but nothing more than slightly anxious, I’d say.”

  “Do you have access to the garage door?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s do that now, if you please.”

  He eyed the front door, and then the garage. “Yes. All right. Quickly. But I haven’t the key to enter the house from the garage.”

  “Your mother-in-law has a separate key for the entry door from the garage?”

  “Yes.” Linden punched the security numbers on the entry pad, and the garage door opened. No exhaust fumes, no engine idled. The unoccupied, expensive silver vehicle gleamed its presence.

  “What a lovely car,” Lillie observed.

  “New. Latest model. My mother-in-law has impeccable taste.”

  And a fair amount of money.

  “Now can we carry on? Why check the garage, anyway?” Mr. Davies was brisk.

  “Precaution,” Berdie said.

  Linden frowned and swallowed. “Olivia wouldn’t do anything daft.”

  He closed the garage and took the stone path that ran from the drive to the front garden, walking ahead of Berdie and Lillie. The borders were awash with purple bearded iris and frothy cranesbill. The welcoming front door sported a wreath of sage, dried lavender, flowering mint, dabs of rosemary, sweet pea, and peach colored tea roses.

  “Your mother-in-law shops at the White Window Box in Aidan Kirkwood.” Lillie fingered the wreath and then put her fingertips to her nose and sniffed. “Heavenly. This mix of herbs and flowers is their specialty.”

  “It was a gift, actually,” Linden curtly responded. “Mother,” he called out as he rang the doorbell several times. He tried to open the door but found it locked. “I’m using my key to come in.”

  A front light flickered on at another home across the road.

  Linden unlocked the door and pushed it open.

  A distinct odor hit Berdie’s nose like a kick to the shin. “Smoke.”

  “Oh, my dear Lord,” toppled from Lillie’s lips.

  “Mother?” Linden pushed through the doorway.

  Berdie caught him by his sleeve. “Protect your mouth and nose.”

  Linden, hand over his face, swept into the ample hallway. He switched on the hall light.

  Berdie, right behind him, glanced about. There were no flames apparent. She didn’t feel heat. But there was a lazy gray haze drifting throughout. She was almost certain of its source. “Kitchen,” Berdie directed Mr. Davies.

  “Remind you of anything?” L
illie’s muffled words came from behind.

  “My oven thermostat’s delicate,” Berdie barked through her covered mouth.

  Linden advanced to the open plan kitchen clicking lights on as he went. In the heart of the room, the smoke was thick. Linden looked about.

  “Oven,” Berdie yelled and charged forward. She grabbed a precautionary tea towel from a countertop. Her shoe hit an object that clattered across the floor. She turned the oven off.

  A swish of clean air whooshed in when Linden opened double glass doors onto a veranda.

  “Berdie?” Lillie began to cough.

  Berdie grabbed her friend’s arm and towed her along as she raced behind Linden and out of the smoke-filled kitchen onto the expansive tiled veranda.

  Berdie drank the fresh air into her lungs.

  Lillie plopped into a substantial wicker chair and took giant refreshing gulps.

  Linden, after several deep inhalations, re-entered the kitchen.

  Visible through the glass and haze, he donned protective kitchen gloves. Thick smoke escaped when he opened the oven door and pulled the darkened offender from the gaping chamber. He raced to the veranda and flung the blackened roasting pan and its contents past the stone flooring and into the back garden. “Hot,” was all he offered, but his grimace said it all. He pulled the scorched pads from his hands and blew on his palms.

  A shriveled black morsel was riveted to the pan. A once generous cut of meat, lamb by the shape of it, now launched spirals of gray smoke into the night.

  “Well, dinner’s off, then,” Lillie said.

  But Berdie sensed far more was off than dinner.

  “I’m going back in,” Linden announced.

  “Use a wet towel,” Berdie called after him.

  “Why is he going back?” Lillie leaned forward in her chair.

  “He’s looking for Olivia, of course.”

  “Surely she’s not home. Wouldn’t you notice something like smoke?”

  “You would if you’re conscious.”

  “You don’t think she’s here?”

  Berdie took another inhale of fresh air. “Let’s have a go at opening some windows.”

  “I don’t fancy going back in.” Lillie tipped her head. “And you haven’t answered my question. Do you think she’s in there somewhere?”