by J A Whiting
The Sandy Rose Inn had a huge wrap-around porch and tall Beech trees stood on each side of the place providing welcoming shade on hot days. Flowers bloomed in pots set on the steps and on the porch, and spring flowers spilled over the sides of the boxes at the windows. White rockers stood on the porch waiting for guests to come and sit for a while. At the northern edge of Bluewater Cove, the inn was located on a quiet road that led down to a sandy beach.
William Mathers, in his early seventies, tall and slender with white hair and pale blue eyes, had owned the bed and breakfast for over forty years. When he purchased it, the old house had fallen into disrepair, but within two years, he’d returned it to its former glory and had even won an award for the historical preservation.
William greeted the sisters as they walked up the porch steps. “Every time I see you two, you look more and more like your beautiful mother.” William and his wife had been friends for decades with Nell and Violet’s parents and he’d known the girls since they were little.
After exchanging hugs, he said, “Let’s go inside. The police chief warned me the news outlets would arrive like a tsunami once they got wind that Dr. Forrest had been a guest here.”
Taking seats on comfortable sofas in the lovely sunroom at the back of the house, they discussed Pepper Forrest.
“When Dr. Forrest first arrived, we chatted a little, but she didn’t seem eager to talk. She was certainly polite and well-mannered, but she kept to herself. In the mornings, she rose early and ate a quick breakfast in the morning room. She didn’t linger over coffee or to speak with the other guests … she just went in and out. She either returned to her room for a while or went out for the day.”
“How long was she here at the B and B?” Nell asked.
“Two nights before the accident happened. She was planning to stay one more night.”
“Did she arrive by car?” Violet asked.
“She didn’t have a vehicle,” William said. “She arrived by taxi. I believe she used the town shuttle when she left the inn or called a car service to take her where she wanted to go.”
“Did anyone come to collect her things from the room?” Nell questioned. “Did a friend or relative come here?”
“Not yet.” William shook his head sadly. “The police confiscated some of the items from the room. I suppose they took some of the things to look for information about any family or friends they might contact. Such a terrible tragedy. The woman goes on a short break and ends up dead.”
“Did you talk to Dr. Forrest about why she was here? Why did she choose Bluewater Cove?” Nell asked.
“Dr. Forrest told me she lived and worked in Boston,” William said. “She told me she hadn’t been on a vacation for years. She was always working. Dr. Forrest decided to come to town because she wanted to attend a symposium at the medical school here and take an extra day to relax.”
“Did she mention any family? A husband? Children? Siblings?” Violet asked. “Did she talk about any friends?”
William shook his head. “She didn’t say a word to me about any relatives or friends. She came here alone. Perhaps, she met someone here in town or at the symposium, but I don’t know anything about that.”
“So the main reason for her visit was to attend the conference?” Nell asked.
“That was my impression,” William told the sisters. “But as I said, our interactions were limited and formal in nature.”
“How did the professor seem when you spoke with her?” Nell asked. “Did she seem worried or nervous? Did you notice her acting concerned about her surroundings? Maybe careful of who was close by?”
“Really, I didn’t. She didn’t want to linger in the breakfast room or in the common areas. I never noticed her outside by the gardens. Most visitors enjoy relaxing in the chairs by the flowers or under the trees or by the pond,” William said. “At the very least, the guests enjoy the front porch. I never saw Dr. Forrest relaxing outside. That made me think she wanted to visit as many places in town as she could. Perhaps, she wasn’t one for the beach or didn’t care to spend time in nature. Some people prefer museums and historical landmarks or restaurants and shops.”
“Did Dr. Forrest ask you for any tips on area sightseeing?” Violet questioned.
“She didn’t. She seemed to have a plan of what she wanted to do. I did ask if I could point out places of interest, but she told me she was all set.”
“Did she ask you for directions to any place in particular?” Nell asked.
“She didn’t. She did ask about the trolley system and I gave her a pamphlet with information on the routes and the cost,” William said, “but that was really all she asked me about.”
“Did any of the guests talk to Dr. Forrest more than the others did?” Violet questioned. “Did she seem more comfortable with any of the guests?”
William started to shake his head, but stopped. “One of the guests was a lovely older woman. She was the only one who seemed to connect with Dr. Forrest. They didn’t speak at length as far as I know, but they did seem to enjoy speaking to each other.”
Nell asked with excitement in her voice, “Is that guest still here?”
“I’m afraid not. She left on the morning of the accident. She lives in New York City.”
Nell’s heart sank with disappointment, and then she asked a question that had been picking at her. “Did you happen to notice anyone lurking around the inn? Did you notice the same car driving by multiple times or maybe, someone walking by giving the inn more interest than is usual for a tourist?”
William’s bushy white eyebrows went up. “No, I didn’t. Do you think the driver of the car that hit Dr. Forrest might have been looking for her here? Do you think she was in some kind of danger?”
“We’re only speculating and grasping at straws,” Violet told the man.
“May I ask why you’re interested in the woman?”
Nell swallowed hard. “She was in our shop minutes before being hit by the car. She died in the road right outside the shop. We went out to offer help, but she was already dead.”
“How terrible. I’m so sorry you had to see that,” William said kindly. “Is there a concern that the hit and run wasn’t an accident?”
“It’s a possibility,” Violet said carefully.
The three talked for a few more minutes, and then as Nell and Violet were about to leave, William said, “Funny thing. I could be wrong about it, but I’m not sure.”
“Wrong about what?” Nell asked, a shiver of unease rolling over her skin.
“When I was upstairs the other day making up one of the guest rooms, I thought I could hear Dr. Forrest in her room. I thought I could hear her crying.”
7
Nell sat at a café table on the patio of a sandwich shop in the center of town eating a mozzarella and tomato sandwich and reading on her laptop. She’d worked a long day at the studio and decided to take Iris for a walk along the beach before heading into town for a bite to eat.
Iris enjoyed resting at Nell’s feet on the patio watching all the people strolling to the shops and restaurants and down to the harbor to see the boats. The dog was always friendly and well-behaved in public and was welcome in many of the town’s establishments. Nell and Violet often joked that people were happier to see Iris than they were to see them.
Even though Nell had read many articles and papers on tetrachromats, she still looked at fresh research for new information on the uncommon ability. Losing track of time, she’d sat for two hours on the patio scouring the internet for new material about tetrachromatism and for articles on what ancient peoples believed colors represented.
Letting out a sigh, Nell looked down at Iris who had glanced up when she heard the long breath of air. “Reading about colors just makes me more confused.”
Nell realized she and the dog were the only ones left outside and that darkness had fallen while she’d been doing her research. “We better get back,” she told the dog, gathering up her things.
&n
bsp; Walking along the brick sidewalks heading back to the house, Nell and Iris passed through the cozy town under the old-fashioned streetlamps. A chill made Nell shiver a little and she wished she’d thought to bring her sweater. The town was quieter than it would be in a few weeks when schools let out and families and couples started their summer vacations in earnest. Nell loved the month of June … the weather was warm, the days were longer, the town was beginning to buzz with activity, she and Violet could enjoy a swim in the cold ocean water, she could bike and run on the park’s paths, and the summer months stretched far out in front of her.
Nell and Iris turned down a side road that would lead to the house’s rear door. The home had been passed down from her grandmother to her mother and now to her and Violet. The family’s main residence had been in central Massachusetts, but the Bluewater Cove house was where they spent most summers and many weekends.
The house had been added-on to so that part of it faced Main Street and the back section faced a quiet neighborhood lane. The Main Street part housed the studio and the shop, and the rest of the house was used as their residence. There was a big yard enclosed by a fence so Iris could go out whenever she wanted to without one of the sisters needing to accompany her.
Walking along, Nell chattered to the dog, thinking out loud. “Colors are related to different things. Take red for instance, in some cultures it stands for anger and rage, and in another society it stands for courage, life, and victory. It can also mean death or can be used to symbolize protected health. If colors mean so many different things, how will I know what they mean when I see them?”
Iris gave Nell a sympathetic look.
“You know what black can mean? This one is confusing, too. Black can refer to evil and death and mystery, but to other people it can mean resurrection and life. Completely different things. The same color. How can I figure this out?” Nell shook her head. “For the rest of the night, I’m taking a break from thinking about this stuff.”
Iris let out a soft yip.
“I’m glad you agree,” Nell said. “I wonder when Violet will get back?”
Violet had gone out on a date to a movie and dinner with someone she’d met a month ago.
“I can’t wait to get into my pajamas and collapse on the sofa.” Nell stopped short. Her house was two homes away from where she stood.
For a moment, Nell was sure she saw a flash of orange in the windows. Could it have been a flicker of fire? She watched closely, waiting to see if something flashed again.
Nothing. The house looked fine.
Nell took an anxious glance at the dark sky afraid what she saw had been a bolt of lightning, but the stars shone down and the inky sky was clear.
Iris whined and some fur on her back stood up.
Just as Nell was about to start walking again, she spotted what looked like a shadow darting into the bushes that separated her house from the neighbor’s home.
Iris growled low and deep causing goosebumps to form over Nell’s arms.
“What is it, girl?” Nell whispered. “Is someone in our yard?”
On the neighbor’s front porch, a man called out. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me, Mr. Patrick. It’s Nell. And Iris.” She hurried past her house to talk to the neighbor, a short, spry, seventy-eight-year-old man named John Patrick. John had lived in his home for over forty years with his wife, Ida.
John said, “I thought I saw someone in your side yard. I guess it was only you.”
A shiver moved over Nell’s arms. “It wasn’t me. We’re just getting home from the center of town. We were walking back from the sandwich shop.”
Nell could see Mr. Patrick standing under the porch light and she watched as his eyes narrowed. “I’m pretty sure I saw someone in your side yard. I thought it looked like a man.”
A surge of anger pulsed through Nell’s veins. “Where did he go?” she asked. “Did you see which way he went?”
Mr. Patrick huffed. “When I came out to the porch, I didn’t see him anywhere. Maybe it was a stray shadow or a cloud passing over the moon.”
Taller and sturdier than her husband, seventy-six-year-old Ida Patrick came out from their living room carrying a heavy hammer. “Let’s go make sure no one is in Nell’s house.”
Iris sniffed at the ground and trotted into the bushes before crossing the Patricks’ front lawn and sniffing hurriedly along the road. The dog followed the lane past two houses and then she stopped, threw back her head, and let out a wolf-like howl.
The sound made Nell’s heart race. “Iris seems to think whoever or whatever was here has left.”
Clutching the hammer, Ida Patrick said, “So it seems, but we’ll go with you to check the house anyway. Just to be sure.”
“Okay.” Feeling edgy, and despite having the dog with her, Nell was happy to have the Patricks come into the house to be sure it was all clear. Before going inside, she took a look back to the road and a quick orange flash shot up from the ground like a rocket and, in a millisecond, it disappeared into the night air.
Nell gasped.
Mrs. Patrick heard the young woman’s distress and thought it was caused by the idea that someone might be lurking inside. “Don’t worry, hon. We won’t leave you until we’re sure the house is safe. No one is going to mess with three people and a dog.”
After checking each room, Nell offered the Patricks some tea, but they declined and returned to their own home, but not before insisting that Nell call them should she feel uneasy or worried about anything at all.
“We can be here in three seconds,” Mrs. Patrick told her. “People think we’re old and slow. Well, we may be old, but we’re quick and spry and not afraid to give some creep what-for.” The older woman raised her hammer to make the point.
When Violet returned from her date and heard someone may have been lurking around in the yard, she rushed from room to room pulling down the shades. “Who could it have been? Why would anyone be skulking around our yard?”
“It was probably nothing at all.” Nell wanted to convince her sister as well as herself, but couldn’t quite wipe the worry from her mind since both she and Mr. Patrick thought they’d seen someone moving around outside the house. “Or some kids felt like getting into some mischief.”
“I don’t like it.” Violet stood in the living room with her arms wrapped around her body. “At least, we have Iris. She won’t let anything happen to us.”
Iris thumped her tail against the wood floor.
“It couldn’t have anything to do with Pepper Forrest, could it?” Violet asked.
Nell’s heart dropped down to her fuzzy, slipper-covered feet. The same thought had crossed her mind. “I don’t see how it could. We don’t know anything. We weren’t even outside when the accident happened. No one would connect us to Dr. Forrest. Why would they?”
“Because you saw her covered in red,” Violet said.
“No one knows that,” Nell protested.
“Dr. Rob knows it. Dani knows it. Maybe Rob told that snooty, strange new doctor about it. Then that guy told other people, and on and on. Maybe Dani told Peter and Peter told the other officers.”
“Peter wouldn’t tell anyone,” Nell said.
“Someone could have overheard us talking about it,” Violet said.
“If someone overheard that conversation, they wouldn’t have understood it. They wouldn’t have any idea what we were talking about.”
When Violet sank into one of the soft chairs and sighed, Nell decided it was time to tell her sister more about the night.
“When Iris and I were outside, I saw an orange flickering light inside our windows.”
Violet didn’t say anything, but she looked like she might be feeling a little bit ill.
“Then I saw a flash of orange light shoot up from the ground right before I came inside,” Nell said.
Violet stared. “Is there anything else? Did you see anything else that was strange?”
“That’s all.”
“I guess that was enough for one evening.” Violet shook her head. “Actually, that was enough for a lifetime. What’s going on?”
Nell explained that earlier, she’d done some research on colors and their meanings.
“What does the color orange mean?” Violet asked.
“Orange means a warning,” Nell said.
“Great. Does it have any other meanings?”
“I only found the one thing, a warning.”
Violet looked at Iris sitting on her dog bed in the corner and then made eye contact with her sister. “Two dogs would be more protection. Maybe we should get another dog.”
8
The next afternoon, William Mathers, the owner of The Sandy Rose, phoned Nell to ask if she might come to the inn. A friend of Pepper Forrest was there asking about the woman and Mr. Mathers thought it would be helpful if Nell or Violet could speak with her.
Violet stayed behind to mind the shop, and when Nell arrived at the inn, she ran into the gardener and handyman, Bobby, who was working near the white picket fence tending the roses.
“Afternoon.” Bobby touched the brim of his wide straw hat.
“The gardens look beautiful.” Nell admired the flowers running along the fence. “You certainly have a magic touch. Our gardens are pretty, but nothing at all like these.”
“It takes a lot of time,” Bobby told her. The thirty-five-year-old gardener had worked at the inn for several months and his skin was perpetually tanned from his outdoor work. He was medium-height, had thin with wiry muscles, brown hair and brown eyes. “If you want me to come by your house and offer some suggestions, I’d be glad to do it.”
Nell’s eyes brightened. “How nice of you. Thanks.”
William opened the door and stepped out on the porch to greet Nell. “Glad you could come on such short notice. Dr. Littleton is in the backyard.”
William led Nell around the house following the brick walkway to the rear yard. The space was lush and green with borders of flowerbeds set around the edges of the property. To Nell, everything was a riot of color. The inn had a large stone patio, a fire pit, a garden swing, and tables and chairs placed here and there, some in the sun and others under the shade trees.