by Liz Marvin
Dancing With Death
A Betty Crawford Mystery
By Liz Marvin
Copyright 2012 Johnston Media LLC All Rights Reserved
CHAPTER 1
Betty’s eyes itched. It was driving her crazy. Well, crazier. Ever since she’d been diagnosed with diabetes, it seemed like her life had become one big maelstrom of chaos and change. Not only was she dealing with changes in diet and mood-swings, learning to monitor her blood sugar, and so many other details that it made her head swim, but her tiny town of Lofton was still reeling from the aftershocks of murder. A couple of months ago the quiet, quirky town of Lofton, North Carolina, had been host to three murders.
Betty was the only one who knew about the third murder. Or rather, she was the only one who believed that it had been a murder, and not just a horrific car crash. The last victim, Andy, had also been the murderer of the first two victims. When Betty had discovered his guilt, he’d kidnapped her. During the police chase, Andy’s truck had crashed.
Betty was the only one who’d seen the red dot on his forehead before the crash… the only one to see him slump over his seat before the truck careened wildly out of control and off the road. She was the only one who believed there was still a murderer on the loose in Lofton.
The rest of the town had lost its air of fear and suspicion. The column run by the Gossiping Grannies in the town newspaper was back to dishing out details of romance and gardening competitions, and the police tape had long been removed from the Lofton Community Theater. But Betty was still on the watch for anything suspicious. She was still looking for clues.
Or she would be, if she could see. Betty pulled her bike over to the side of the road, and braced one hand against the handlebars so she could rub her itching eyes. Little spots of light remained in her vision when she was finished. They danced about for several seconds before turning grey and fading away, leaving a blurry world in their wake. Betty squinted both ways up and down the road before continuing on her way, pedaling slowly against the burn in her calves and harsh breathing. Yesterday, instead of the normal clarity of sight she’d been born with, Betty had awoken to a world of blurred shapes and fuzzy colors. She’d stayed close to home, and hoped that when she awoke the next morning the loss in vision would have disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. Instead, she’d awakened still unable to focus.
So she’d called an optometrist and hopped on her bike to pedal across town. Biking was safer than driving, right?
Betty hadn’t reckoned on the temperature. In February, even North Carolina was cold. And, no matter how much she was trying to get in shape to help combat her disease, Betty still wasn’t in what she would call “peak condition.” She wasn’t fat. Just… pudgy. By the time she’d gone two miles, Betty’s shirt was stuck to her back with sweat. Gasps of cold air froze her throat. Her brown curls were frizzed and tangled by the wind. Still, she had an appointment to make. She refused to go blind. Flat out refused. Betty pedaled harder. The blurs sped up.
~
The eye doctor’s office had a cozy feel to it, Betty thought. At least, it had a cozy feel to it if you discounted the giant chair with cold metal machines coming out of it at eye-level… okay, not so cozy. It was all the carpet’s fault, Betty decided. Carpets usually meant comfort. They were trying to fool you. Stupid carpets.
Why was she angry at carpets again?
Oh, Betty realized. Her blood sugar must be low. She hadn’t had time to run to the restroom and check it after her bicycle ride. She’d checked into the office and been off on her merry way to the retina scanner. Betty pulled a hard candy from her purse and popped it into her mouth. Sour apple. Mmmmmm.
She was just crunching through the last sliver of candy when the door to the office opened and the optometrist entered. He was a short, round sort of blurry man. When he spoke, his voice was nasal.
He reminded Betty of a mole. Except that moles were blind.
Blind. Betty didn’t want to lose her vision, but stupid, stupid diabetes might be making it happen anyway. She felt her pulse speed up at the thought… No sight…
No, Betty thought. No panicking allowed.
“Miss Crawford,” the optometrist said, taking a seat in the chair across from Betty, “there’s good news and there’s bad news.”
Why did he have to start the conversation that way? Betty thought. Now she was left on the hook. Should she be panicked or relieved? Just once, it would be nice to have a doctor who could sum up everything that was right and wrong with her in one simple, short sentence. She hated cliffhangers!
“The good news is you aren’t going blind. Once your vision finishes adjusting, you’ll see just fine with a pair of glasses.”
That was something. Glasses weren’t that bad. Annoying, awful looking, and embarrassing… but not terrible. It was the “once” part of the statement that worried her.
“Finishes adjusting to what?” she asked.
The doctor shifted in the chair. Betty tracked the movement. “Your eyes are adjusting to your new blood sugar,” he said. “As your blood sugar goes down, your blood thins out. As your blood thins, your eyes change shape. It takes your eyes time to finish changing shape. In your case, the changes occurring mean that your vision will be worse than it was. You’ll need glasses for distance.”
“So, I’m not going blind.”
The doctor shook his head. “Absolutely not. But it may take a few months for your vision to settle. Until then, your vision will probably continue to change without notice.”
Betty felt panic being to rise up again. She didn’t know if she could handle going to sleep every night without knowing if she’d be able to see when she woke up. And what if it got so bad that she couldn’t read her computer screen? She had an online business to run! She had to be able to read e-mails!
“Isn’t there anything I can do in the meantime?” she asked. “A temporary pair of glasses I could use, or something?”
“We can get you a pair of glasses,” the doctor said, “They might be useless in just a few days, but I’d recommend them.”
Oh. Well, that wasn’t good. She could hardly afford a new pair of glasses every week.
“I see,” said Betty.
“Would you like to do that?” the doctor asked.
“No,” said Betty. “I’ll muddle through somehow.”
CHAPTER 2
“Road trip!” Clarise yelled through the phone. Betty yanked the receiver away from her ear, but it was too late. Now she was blind and deaf. “Want to come?”
Betty rolled her eyes and moved from the living room onto the front porch, letting the screen door slam behind her while she settled onto the front porch swing. The white paint was peeling, the cushions faded and scattered with an odd dried leaf or two. It was still her favorite spot in the house to sit, just as it had been when she was a teenager. She might as well get comfortable. This would be a long conversation.
Ever since Clarise had been cleared of murder charges, she’d been on an exploration kick. According to Clarise, “I was locked up in the big house for far too long. I need to see the world!”
Right. Thanks to Betty, Clarise hadn’t even been in jail for a week. Clarise had a flair for the dramatic. Which, considering that she was the director for the Lofton Community Theater, wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. However, given that her last surprise location road trip had wound up with Betty stuck at a weekend-long Chia Pet convention…
“Where would we go?” Betty asked warily.
“Well, I was thinking,” Clarise continued in a rush. “We should go dancing. All four of us. Me and Wes and you and Bill.”
Dancing. That didn’t sound too bad. A double date could be fun… A small red blob that Betty supposed
was a cardinal pecked at seeds in the bird feeder hanging from the large tree in her front yard. A door slammed, and the cardinal darted up into sunlit branches.
“There’s this professional ballroom dance competition a few counties over.”
And the proverbial shoe dropped. A ballroom dance competition? Dancing where there weren’t any steps to memorize was one thing. The good old two-step was a challenge, but she could manage it. But ballroom dancing? In front of judges? No.
“Clarise,” Betty said flatly, “I don’t know how to ballroom dance.”
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun! We can dress up for the guys and do some twirling, and then watch the really good dancers go at it. Please? Wes and I are competing. We could use the company, and the support. Please come? It wouldn’t be the same without you. And…” Clarise lowered her voice to a dramatic whisper, “it’ll be a chance to get away from prying eyes.”
Betty had to admit, Clarise had a point. It’s not that she and Bill were an item… yet. But dating the police chief wasn’t exactly low profile in Lofton. And Clarise was an ex-murder suspect dating a cop. There had already been three articles in the Lofton Town News social section about the two of them. The Gossiping Grannies smelled scandal.
Thankfully, Betty wasn’t on their radar yet. She intended to stay that way. Going with Wes and Clarise made it look like a weekend away with friends instead of a romantic getaway. The Gossiping Grannies could speculate, but as far as they knew Wes and Bill were friends, and Clarise and Betty were friends. It made perfect sense that the four of them would hang out.
Well it had to be better than the Chia Pet convention. Betty was still having nightmares about the giant green Chia Pet Puppet that greeted all convention goers at the door. She never wanted to be hugged by a twelve-foot neon green bunny rabbit again.
Betty lay back on the swing and put her arm over her eyes, letting the rocking motion lull her into relaxation.
“Oh, why not,” she said.
“Yes!” exclaimed Clarise. “That’s great! And can you drive? Because my car’s in the shop and Wes only has the cruiser.”
“Sounds good,” Betty said without thinking.
It was only when she hung up the phone and removed the arm from her eyes that she remembered the world was one big blur.
Great. Now she was blind, deaf, and dumb. How could she volunteer to be the driver for a road trip when she couldn’t see?
~
The day of the road trip dawned grey and cloudy. Betty dragged herself around her bedroom, trying to get the motivation to throw a few last items in her suitcase. It was one of those mornings where nothing seemed to go right. First she’d overslept, then she’d stubbed her toe, lost her keys… it was as if the universe had decided she wasn’t supposed to go on this trip. Of course, she told herself, that feeling of foreboding had absolutely nothing to do with her own misgivings.
While Betty was back to being able to read on the computer screen, anything more than three feet away started to get blurry, and anything more than 10 feet away was just a blob of fuzzy color. She couldn’t read the band and musical posters on the wall across the room, let alone exit signs. Driving in this condition was stupid, and Betty knew it.
But diabetes had already taken so much. She couldn’t eat her favorite foods, she was tethered to a blood sugar meter, she always had be on the lookout for sharp changes in mood or balance… her life had become constant vigilance. Giving up chocolate ice cream should be enough of a sacrifice, enough of a trial to ensure that she would pass through diabetes with flying colors. Giving up driving, her ability to function and do her job, her ability to move farther than five miles? That wasn’t okay by any stretch of the imagination. This wasn’t L.A., where she’d been able to reach everything she needed by public transportation and cab. This was a sprawling town in North Carolina far from any major city hubs. The grocery store alone was fifteen miles away!
So, no. Betty was not going to give up driving. She’d practiced around town, and so long as she didn’t go at breakneck speed she could still identify hazards on the road. As long as someone else navigated, she’d be fine.
Her friends would never have to know how helpless she’d become.
Betty drove slowly on her way to Clarise’s house, becoming familiar with the way her eyes were working that day. It seemed like every day she woke up with a different type of vision, or vision loss. Thankfully, her depth perception wasn’t off. If it had been, humiliation and frustration or no, Betty would’ve refused to drive.
When she arrived at Clarise’s house, Betty pulled up in front of the house and honked the horn before getting out to help with bags. Almost immediately, the screen door slammed open. Clarise flew down the stone pathway, a blur of cheery red cardigan sweater, designer jeans and black leather ankle boots.
“Betty!” Clarise exclaimed. “What on earth took you so long? Bill’s been here for ages waiting.” She flung her arms around Betty and squeezed. “This is so exciting!”
When she pulled back, Betty could see that Clarise’s brown hair was swept back in a pony tail, her cinnamon skin glowing and reddened by excitement. Betty raised an eyebrow. “It’s morning,” she said dryly. “Did you expect me to be on time?”
Clarise laughed, a giddy, burbling sound that had Betty smiling in response. Betty felt some of the tension leaving her. Clarise was right, this would be an adventure. A good adventure… one she intended to fully enjoy. Wes and Bill appeared on the porch.
“Load it up!” Betty called. “We’re on our way!”
CHAPTER 3
“Look!” Clarise called out. “Only a hundred miles left to Hale Falls!” She bounced up and down in the back seat. “Oh, this is so exciting! I can’t wait! All those dancers, with the beautiful dresses and… and… oh, this is so exciting! Don’t you think so Wes?”
Wes, or Sergeant Wes as most people in town called him, grinned at her. “Sure is,” he said.
Betty glanced at him in the rearview mirror. She still couldn’t get used to seeing him out of uniform. In a police uniform Wes looked… well, somewhere between bumbling and handsome, but not quite either. His beard was always just a little scruffy, and he had a slight beer belly. He tripped over his own feet, and stumbled over his words when he was nervous. Betty had a vision of him trying to talk a kidnapper out of a hostage situation, and the kidnapper laughing in his face. Which would be a mistake. Wes was also an excellent shot.
But out of uniform, features that made Wes look like a soft cop simply made him look… comfy. The heat was blasting in the car, so Wes had taken off his jacket, showing a tight-fitting blue t-shirt. Wisps of his brown hair kept on falling into his eyes.
“How do you think we’re going to do?” Clarise continued. “Wouldn’t it be great if we placed? I think we could place. Don’t you?”
Wes chuckled and grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles. “I think we’ll have to see what happens. Me, I’d be happy not to tumble over my own two feet.”
Clarise flapped a hand at him. “Oh, you’ll be fine. I have two left feet, not you.”
“Then it’s a good thing that in ballroom it’s the guy’s job to make the girl look good,” he said. Clarise mock-glared at him, and he rushed to add, “Not that it’ll take much work with you!”
Betty forced her eyes back onto the road, smiling. It was so wonderful that Clarise and Wes had finally stopped dancing around each other. For a while there it’d been like a soap opera, where the two main characters dance around each other until the audience is just about ready to hit them over the heads and lock them in a room until they figure things out.
Thankfully, Betty hadn’t had to resort to such drastic measures to make her two friends see reason… though it had been a near thing.
It was nice to see Clarise so happy.
As for her own love life… Betty glanced over at Bill. Bill had his head tipped back, eyes closed. It was possible he was sleeping, though Betty doubted it. More likely, he was deep in some medit
ative thought and didn’t feel like sharing with the world. Or he was just listening to the banter behind their seats and resting his eyes.
She didn’t think he was avoiding her.
No, his breath was steady and slow. His eyelids fluttered just a bit. His mouth was parted ever so slightly. He was asleep. Betty smiled. Goodness, he was beautiful. Maybe guys didn’t like to be called beautiful, but sometimes there was just no other word that fit. She’d liked Bill for years, since they’d both been in the drama program at college. She couldn’t believe that now, years later, they were on a weekend-long double date.
Bill was just about six feet tall, with the chiseled, ruggedly-handsome look that most actors dreamt of. She was a short, pudgy diabetic. What on earth could he see in her?
Hopefully, she wouldn’t make a complete fool of herself this weekend. It was the first real chance she and Bill had had to be away from the prying eyes of the town.
Betty took a deep breath. Everything would be fine. She was sure of it. She brought her eyes back to the road just in time to see the first snowflake land on the windshield. Then another. Then another. The snowflakes melted as quickly as they appeared, sending little drops of water towards the edges of the windshield in rivulets.
“Snow!” squealed Clarise giddily. “Wes, look, it’s snowing!”
Bill jerked awake. “Huh— what’s wrong?” he asked.
Wes clapped him on the shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong. Breathe. Look out your window.”
It must just be a flurry, Betty thought. They were in North Carolina, for goodness’ sake!
“Oooh…” said Clarise, “Look at all the mountains.” She snuggled up to Wes in the backseat, putting her head on his shoulder. “It’s perfect,” she murmured. “Just like a fairy tale.”
Betty looked over at Bill, raising one eyebrow. She understood that Clarise was feeling high on life, but Betty didn’t see how snow amounted to a fairy tale. Although, admittedly she couldn’t see the mountains Clarise had been talking about. In fact, until Clarise mentioned it Betty hadn’t even registered that they had been steadily moving up an incline. She’d been so focused on the road in front of her that she hadn’t even attempted to take in the scenery. Now, she flicked her eyes towards the edge of the road, trying to decipher the blurs.