by Molly Greene
“A football player majoring in drama?” Gen could almost always make them laugh; even with the tension, this time was no exception. “Okay, let’s lighten up. I have a joke.”
“Tell,” Madison said.
“A king led his soldiers into war. On the eve of a big battle, he told his servant, ‘I will wear my red tunic tomorrow.’
“‘Why, my liege?’ the servant asked. ‘Don’t you want to wear the ermine-trimmed tunic befitting your station?’
“‘No,’ his master replied. ‘I will wear the red. If I am wounded, my men will not know and will continue to fight, unconcerned about my welfare.’
“‘Aha,’ said the valet. ‘This is why you are our leader.’
“The troops assembled the next day at dawn, and the king rode to the top of the hill overlooking the battlefield. When he saw that his enemies outnumbered his own men by more than a hundred to one, he turned to his servant and said, ‘Bring me my brown pants.’”
Anna, Gen, and Madison erupted into peals of laughter that soon escalated into a pillow fight. Jack joined in, barking and lunging.
As they swung and shrieked, a huge tabby cat sauntered into the room, tail swishing.
They watched as it leaped onto the chair beside the fireplace and kneaded its claws in Jack’s blanket, then settled in, purring with contentment.
Jack looked from Madison to the creature and back several times, then growled. His eyes were fixed on the intruder, but he was clearly not going to offer any resistance.
The three women were transfixed.
“That is one big cat,” Genny whispered. “Where did it come from?”
“I bet this is the long lost Finnegan. If Janice’s story is true, he’s been living here alone for years. I think now I believe her.”
Madison crouched at eye level with the feline.
“There’s a pet door in the mudroom. It was latched and hidden behind a heavy board. I unblocked it this afternoon for Jack.” She looked at Anna. “I think it was Finn who scared us the night we came looking for my cell.”
“Hello, Finnegan,” Anna whispered. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Howdy-doo,” Gen said. “If this is really the beneficiary of the Blackburne’s trust, we better hope no one else sees him. Not until I figure out if his being alive affects the sale. This pussycat might be a way out of the deal for Velasco.”
Chapter Fifteen
From the looks of the fireside chair, the cat spent a tranquil night in the house but vanished before the women rose Sunday morning. He did not return. After a quick lunch, Gen and Anna gathered their gear, hugged their hostess goodbye, and left for Santa Rosa.
The storm that threatened to waterlog the previous day’s plans finally arrived. Rain pelted the mullioned windows like a jar of BB’s spilled on a tile floor.
Madison eased into an afternoon of filling cupboards and drawers, all too familiar with the endless stowing away of things that accompanies every change of address.
This time, though, she had a smile on her face.
She puttered, curious and content, while she unpacked clothes and books and the delicate remains of the past she hadn’t been able to part with.
She spent the evening working in the kitchen, then took a long bath in the free-standing tub and went to bed. She plunged into the first deep, dreamless sleep she’d managed since before a time she knew that a woman named Mallory Blackburne once lived near the town of Healdsburg.
* * *
Monday morning’s vivid sunrise conjured the false promise of sun. Disappointed when blue sky gave way to overcast and more showers, she returned to organizing closets and shelves after breakfast. By mid-morning, the drizzle had given way to a sky filled with fluffy clouds and bouts of sun.
A peek into the garden revealed a sodden landscape of overgrown shrubs and spent perennials badly in need of deadheading.
“I’m ready to do some exploring,” Madison said aloud.
Jack was asleep on his favorite paisley throw. He struggled up at the sound of her voice, assuming something was about to happen.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
Jack dove off the couch and disappeared into the kitchen. Two beats later, Madison heard the thump of the pet door. She slipped on sneakers and a jacket, grabbed a leash, and joined him on the terrace.
They set off down Mill Creek Road.
The air was crisp with the promise of winter. Wads of tissue-paper cloud streamed across the sky. They strolled, taking it all in, Madison pleased with her circumstances and feeling just a little too proud.
They’d gone less than a mile when a dog skittered down the shoulder of the road.
Startled, Madison reeled in Jack’s leash.
A woman in a floppy hat burst from a patch of chokecherry and followed. It was Janice Young. She walked toward Madison and Jack, accompanied by the hulk of a dog.
“I’m so glad you walked by.” She sauntered to the middle of the street. “I need to warn you. A horrible thing happened Saturday night.” Janice stopped three feet away. The massive dog moved toward Jack.
Madison crabbed sideways. “Janice, get your dog.”
“She’s all right,” Janice replied, ignoring her intimidating bodyguard. “She won’t fight. Summer is a rescue, she’s been abused.”
She hitched up her denim jumper and leaned to scratch her leg, revealing filthy construction boots, knee socks that were probably white once, and streaks of soil on the bottom of the skirt. It appeared as if she’d dressed for a trip to town that had been thwarted by a spill into a forgotten garbage heap.
The dog stopped just short of Jack and lowered its muzzle to sniff the terrier’s nose, then growled.
Madison backpedaled twenty feet, on the lookout for a sturdy stick.
“Janice. Get. Your. Dog. Now.”
Summer bared her teeth and took a step forward.
“Get your frigging dog!”
Janice grabbed the animal’s collar and the beast began to pant, drooling spittle onto the asphalt.
Madison wobbled to the side of the road and sat down on a rock.
“I told you.” Janice walked the dog away and made it sit with its thick back toward them. She cleared her throat. “Are you all right?”
“Yes.” Madison stood and whacked the dirt from the back of her jeans. “What’d you want to tell me?”
“We chased off a man in a ski mask Saturday night. He was creeping around our property. Spying. Up to no good. We called the authorities. I told the Sheriff I fully suspect they’re looking for a rapist. The dog chased him off before he could complete whatever he’d planned.”
Was she waiting here in the bushes for someone to wander by so she could tell the tale?
“We saw him, too,” Madison replied. “He had on a skeleton costume, right? Are you sure it wasn’t some kid pulling a Halloween prank? Come to think of it, maybe he got lost and thought my driveway was yours.”
“This was no child,” Janice said. Her voice was low. “And that criminal is still on the loose. If I were you, I’d lock my doors and windows.”
“Duly noted. I will be on the alert.” Madison tugged on the leash and Jack leaped to his feet. “Well, I’ve got a million things to do. Unpacking and all. We’d better be getting along.”
Janice grasped Madison’s arm and leaned in. “If you see anything suspicious again, anything at all, you must let us know so we can try to protect you.”
Jack pulled toward home.
Madison replied with all the enthusiasm she could muster. “I promise.”
She turned, eager to race away down the two-lane. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and called over her shoulder, “Janice? Didn’t you say Edward Blackburne was an ornithologist?”
“I may have.”
“How did he earn a living?”
“A teacher.”
“Where?”
“Why?”
“Just curious.” Madison stood her ground. Jack pulled hard in the op
posite direction.
“Sonoma State, I think. Not that it could help you if some lunatic tries to murder you in your sleep.”
Why on earth would anyone suggest such a thing? “I hope you’re not psychic,” Madison replied.
Janice’s eyes bolted open. Her mouth formed a perfect oh.
Not much of a poker player.
“I’m nothing of the sort,” she stuttered. “That’s an evil that goes against the laws of God.”
She dashed up the embankment and disappeared into the brush.
“That was bizarre,” Madison muttered, and raised her face to the sun. She couldn’t help but think it was beyond time to shake off the encounter and enjoy the weather that had drawn them out in the first place.
Back home, she opened the gate and let the dog free, then left the cobblestones to walk among the fall-blooming asters. The flowers were tall as her waist, and the top of each thick stalk was covered with lilac-colored daisies. She parted an unkempt boxwood hedge, curious about what might be growing beyond it in the bed.
Madison caught her breath.
There were footprints in the mud.
* * *
The temperature turned bone-chilling cold as the storm front moved through. A thick mist settled in, gripping the hillsides and blurring the edges of everything in its way.
Madison wanted to stoke the fire, but when she went for wood found an empty space outside the back door. She shrugged into a jacket and rubber-soled boots, then headed for the woodpile beyond the carriage house.
They couldn’t see more than a yard in front of each footfall, but Jack ran ahead, searching for rodents.
Madison reached the woodlot, peeled back a tarp, and tucked several lengths of split oak into the crook of her arm. She clutched them to her chest and turned to edge back down the path, thinking about the warmth of the fire.
Sticks cracked on the gentle slope above.
“Come on Jack,” she called, then saw him a scant two feet away.
She stopped.
The sound of breaking twigs came again.
“Who’s there?”
Could it be the cat taking advantage of the fog to hunt? When Jack moved toward the noise, she dropped her load and grabbed his collar.
“Who’s there?” she called again. “Who is it?”
Her voice rose. “I hear you. I know someone’s there. The joke isn’t funny. Answer me, or I’ll call the police.”
The dog growled. Madison picked him up and held him so he couldn’t escape. She backed away down the path, facing the hillside and whatever lurked above.
The sounds came again. She began to shiver, but her anger grew along with her fear.
“WHO IS THERE?”
The mist parted like a theatre curtain. Madison caught a glimpse of someone’s midsection fifty yards away, encased in a plaid jacket. The form appeared to hang, headless and disembodied, above the cloud-enshrouded earth. More clearing revealed the back of a head, complete with wavy, shoulder-length chestnut hair shot with streaks of bronze.
Jack barked a wicked challenge.
“Who are you,” she cried. “Why are you on my property?”
No response.
The drapes of fog fell together in a solid sheet.
Madison raced back to the house, still clinging to the dog.
They burst through the door into the mudroom. Madison let go of Jack and latched the pet door, then skinned off her coat and boots.
She bolted into the kitchen and grabbed the phone. Who was she going to call? It wasn’t an emergency. The police weren’t going to come out here.
What if it was just a lost hiker?
She lowered herself to the floor, chest heaving, unsure of what to do.
* * *
In the end, she did nothing but crank up the central heat and go upstairs, hoping a hot bath would soothe her wretched nerves. The water worked its magic. She soaked for half an hour, then dried off, slipped into a robe, and wandered through the house.
An antique secretary with simple lines had been placed in the sitting room. Madison dragged the chair from the keyhole, sat, and looked through the drawers. Aside from a book of poetry, it had been purged of personal items.
Inspiration struck. She’d set up her office.
She emptied the plastic containers of paper clips and supplies into the drawers and tucked files into hanging folders. Then she plugged in the computer and logged on to the Internet.
She Googled Sonoma State and looked for a reference to ornithology. Nothing. The biology department’s current head was Dr. Evelyn Udell. She jotted down the name and shut down the computer.
Madison straightened the top of the desk, then stood and stretched. Covering her mouth to stifle a yawn, she noted that the wall color was dated and dull. The drapes were painfully out of style. This room needed a makeover; she would consider new color options soon.
* * *
That night she dreamed again. The sitting room had been painted green, like the dress she’d worn for Gabrielle’s wedding. She was staring out the window at the lake. The vivid colors and lush landscape filled her with joy.
Ever so slowly, the window swung open. A flock of purple martins flew into the room and circled it three times.
The cabinet door opened.
The swallows disappeared into the back of the built-ins.
They did not return.
Chapter Sixteen
“Hey, Maddy.” Gen poked her head out of Maud’s front door and stuck out her tongue. Madison reached her in three strides and gave her a squeeze, quick and hard. They linked arms and headed for the saloon.
Genny pulled Madison close. “What’s this I hear about you being a hermit? Don’t you have to come to town to show real estate once in a while?”
“Gossipy old women. Always yakking behind my back.” Madison waved at Anna, behind the bar stacking tumblers for the lunch crowd. The clink of glasses mingled with the buzz of conversation in the popular spot. “What brings you up during the week, anyway?”
“I thought I’d come check on Gabi,” Gen replied.
“Is she joining us for lunch?”
“She has a voice lesson.”
“That’s new.”
“Yup. She’s keeping busy, I have to give her that.”
Anna waved them toward a well-lit table near the windows. They sat across from one another.
“What’s up?” Gen dropped her bag on an empty seat and leaned forward. “Is real estate rocking?”
“I decided to stay away from the office until the house is organized. Maybe a month or so. Nobody makes a move this close to the holidays, anyway.”
“I wish I could take a month off. What have you done to the house so far?”
“Just playing chess.”
“Scuse me?”
“I arrange color chips and fabric swatches and finishes in endless combinations, like pieces on a game board. Then I rip pictures of appliances and cabinetry out of magazines. When it gels, I paste them on a story board. I’m still trying to figure out the kitchen, but I’ve settled on an overall color scheme. I’m ready to paint the living room, so I’m going to hit Home Depot after lunch.”
“You must have some moolah socked away.”
“I’m doing okay. And I can stay in touch with work from home.”
“So you’re hiding.”
“You can visit me whenever you’d like. I have a paint brush with your name on it. Or gardening gloves. They come in pink, you know.”
“No chance. I’m more the mental type.”
“You’re mental, all right.”
Genny batted her lashes. “I miss your constant belittling.”
“Miss you too, Gen. I wish you were closer. Not to put you to work, just to make me laugh.”
“Are you afraid to be out there alone?”
“I’ve never minded living by myself, but I have to admit this is different. I feel isolated. But I love the house and it seems like home.”
“Any
sign of Skeleton Man?”
“Nope. But I did get surprised by a lost hiker. Scared me in the fog. Anyway, my goal is to paint the inside of the house by the first of the year.”
“So interesting, your ability to blurt out a shocker and move right on like us dummies won’t notice. Lost hiker? You need a gun.”
“Yeah.” Madison sighed. “And a bottle of tequila. That’ll fix me right up.”
“What you really need is a man.”
“Right. Then the gun and the tequila will take on new significance. Who do I shoot first, me or him?”
Genny laughed. “Well, I know a good lawyer.”
Anna placed two glasses of water on the table and slid into a chair. “I leave you alone for five seconds, and you’re talking about drinking and gunning people down.”
“Only in theory.” Madison shot a look at Gen. “So what’s new with the most gorgeous barkeep soon-to-be-shrink in the world?”
“What will that make me, a psycho tender?”
“I think you’re already that,” Madison replied. “Notice the company you keep. How about tender shrink? Nah. You’re already that, too.”
“Okay my sweets, back to the mines.” Anna patted Madison’s hand and rose to go. “Don’t be strangers. Or, don’t be stranger than you are.” Anna broke into a murmured rendition of Strangers in the Night and walked away.
“I swear,” Madison said. “We should write some of this stuff down.”
“Speaking of a laugh, do you have Thanksgiving plans?” Gen asked.
“Haven’t even thought about it. What are you up to? Flying down to L.A. to Pierre and Yvonne’s?”
“Nope.” Gen paused. “They’re coming up to Gab’s.”
“Really? Everybody going out to dinner?”
“No, we’re eating in. I think maybe the hostess with the mostest wants to remind her wandering husband how lovely the home fires can be. I’m betting the house will be decked out and the ambience uber enchanting.”
“Yikes. Gabi is cooking? Does she know what it feels like to put your hands on a dead bird? Does she know what a giblet is?”