The Nora Abbott Mystery series Box Set

by Shannon Baker

  Icicles pierced her heart. Damn him for upsetting her like this. She needed to play it cool. “I’ve done it, Eduardo. I’ve given you a taste of what I can do. Watch the news tonight.”

  “Have you really accomplished our task?” Eduardo asked, a little perk to his voice.

  “Yes. And I need you to clean this mess.” She thought of the blood splattered across her bedroom.

  “We’ll see.” Eduardo said.

  “The police might come here. I’m still under suspicion for Darla’s murder. If you don’t take care of Mark it will all be over. You won’t get what you want.”

  “How about this, Sylvia.” His tone was slow and deliberate. “You give me what I want and we’ll see about cleaning up your mess.”

  He hung up.

  She stood at the foot of the stairs staring up, the coppery stench of blood filling her nostrils.

  33

  Another day done. In the glow of the eternal parking lot lights, Nora trudged up the stairs to her apartment. The air smelled of snow and wood burning in someone’s fireplace. A door below her opened and loud music momentarily disturbed the night and then the door closed again.

  They’d returned from the mountain at dusk. Cole left in his pickup and Petal disappeared to Sylvia’s office. Nora had spent the next few hours creating a spreadsheet to trace the missing money’s journey. She waited for Mark. She wanted to show it to him before taking it to the police. She eventually gave up, resolved to take the spreadsheet to the police in the morning and headed home exhausted.

  Maybe Abigail had a delicious dinner cooked and waiting. More likely, she had reservations for some fancy restaurant Nora couldn’t afford. What else were credit cards for if not to overspend on her mother one month and live on cheap noodles the next?

  First things first. She’d take Abbey for a long walk. She’d convince Abigail to come along. They’d stop and get a few groceries for dinner and instead of going out, prepare it together. And maybe, just maybe, she and Abigail could enjoy each other’s company.

  She slipped the key in the lock and opened the apartment door. Abbey trotted in and Nora unzipped her jacket.

  A burst of laughter drew Nora’s attention to the living room. She blinked at what she saw.

  Abigail sat on the floor in yoga pants and tunic, legs spread out. She bent from the waist to grasp her bare feet. She let out another bout of giggles.

  Petal sat across from her in a similar pose. Her bare feet stuck out from black leggings that disappeared under three layers of skirts. “You need to breathe, Abigail. That’s the essence of yoga.”

  Abigail swung her head around to the doorway, tears of hilarity shining in her eyes. “Oh, Nora. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Nora pulled off her jacket. “How did you not notice me? The door is right here.”

  Petal giggled. “I guess we were preoccupied.”

  Abigail burst out laughing. She covered her mouth with her hand. “We were concentrating.”

  The both cracked up. Abigail fell back, her chest and belly rising and falling with her howls. Petal fell to her side with her head resting on Abigail’s stomach. She snorted and laughed all the harder.

  Nora addressed Abbey. “What’s up with them?” She inspected the galley kitchen, hoping for some kind of dinner. Instead, chip bags and a package of Oreos littered the counter.

  Nora stepped into the living room and her nose itched with the tell-tale smell. She stared at the giggling women on the floor. “You’ve been smoking pot!”

  Abigail sobered. She lifted Petal’s head off her belly and sat up. She grew serious for five seconds and then cracked up. “I told Petal you’d know.”

  Fear clouded Petal’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Abigail stoned? With Petal? The whole scenario twisted so far from reality Nora could only stand mute and watch as Abigail and Petal fell back into giggles.

  Nora reached for her jacket and the leash. “I’m taking Abbey for his walk. We’ll discuss this when I get back.”

  The labyrinth of paved paths running through Boulder intersected with the parking lot in her apartment complex. Students used these trails as bicycle highways to campus. Runners trod up and down at all hours and the general, outdoor-loving Boulder population found them necessary to their lifestyle. Access to the trail system was one of the big advantages to Nora’s apartment.

  Nora and Abbey tromped along the Boulder Creek trail. The creek babbled and leaves rustled in the brisk wind. For the first fifteen minutes Nora railed in her head about Petal. How dare she get Abigail stoned? The next ten minutes involved blaming Abigail. After that came the question of why Abigail would experiment with pot. And just before they returned to the apartment, Nora started to chuckle at the idea of her mother, Abigail the Perfect, sprawled on the floor experimenting with yoga. Smoking a little pot might not be such a bad thing for someone as uptight at her mother.

  By the time Nora and Abbey stepped from the cold into the apartment, Petal and Abigail had cleaned the kitchen. They sat in the living room with steaming mugs, watching the evening news.

  It seemed strange to have the television on. Nora rarely watched it.

  Abigail stood. “Can I get you a cup of tea?”

  Nora motioned her to sit. “I’ll get it. Are there any more of those cookies?”

  Abigail smiled sheepishly. “A few. In the cupboard.” She leaned against the counter bar.

  Nora fixed her tea and found the cookies. “You didn’t drive to get your snacks, did you?”

  Abigail regarded her tea mug. “I…. I rode Petal’s bike.”

  Nora stopped steeping her tea and gaped at Abigail.

  The only sound was a commercial chirping in the living room.

  They held each other’s gaze for a heartbeat and Nora lost it, nearly spewing cookie crumbs at Abigail. “I wish I’d seen that.”

  Abigail smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

  Nora carried her tea into the living room and sank into the green chair while Abigail settled herself on the couch next to Petal.

  Petal hadn’t said anything, just watched Nora with big, fearful eyes.

  Why was it that Petal could get stoned with Abigail, laugh and carry on, yet she seemed afraid of Nora? Furthermore, how old was Petal? It was impossible to tell under all that hair. “You know,” Nora said to her, “I’m not mad.”

  “’Let not anger snuff out the youthful delight of new life.’” Abigail considered the line and wisely shook her head rejecting it.

  Petal twisted her hands in her lap. “You’re not?”

  “I was at first. It’s not every day I discover my mother is a pot head.”

  “Nora!” Abigail exploded in indignation. “One shared joint does not make me a pot head.”

  Nora struggled to keep a straight face. “I think you should be able to cut loose once in a while. In fact, why don’t we do it together? Have you got any more, Petal? We could make brownies.”

  Petal looked from Nora to Abigail and back again. She didn’t say anything and kept wringing her hands.

  “So why are you smoking pot, Mother?”

  “I wanted to see what all the hoopla is about. Is there anything wrong with that?”

  Nora sipped her tea. “The ‘hoopla’ has been going on for decades.”

  Petal’s voice squeaked from the end of the couch. “It’s not her fault. I invited her. I was feeling so sad about Darla and I asked if she’d mind if I smoked a little, just to take my mind off Darla for a while.”

  “So Abigail joined in to be supportive?”

  Petal stared at her hands.

  “This has something to do with Charlie, doesn’t it?”

  Abigail pursed her lips. “Charlie is out of my life. I don’t even think about him anymore.”

  Might as well talk about this now. “There’s no way Charlie had an affair.”

  “Of course you’d defend him.”

  A low moan escaped from Petal. Abigail and Nora both turned to her.
/>
  Even paler than usual, Petal’s eyes formed giant dark circles in her face. Her mouth gaped and she seemed drawn into the television.

  The news announcer’s voice spoke over the image of what might have once been a meadow but now appeared to be a field of mud. The wide-angle shot showed an open area ringed by trees with fall leaves. As the view closed in the trees faded and ground came more into focus.

  Petal dropped to her knees in front of the screen. “No. No. No.” She covered her mouth with her thin hands.

  Abigail grabbed the remote and punched up the volume.

  While the camera narrowed in on the ground, showing mounds of black feathers, the announcer said, “Hundreds of thousands of blackbirds fell from the sky in an unexplained rain of death.” The image on the screen showed piles of dead birds. “Apparently the kill happened sometime in the late afternoon when the birds dropped onto this Georgia meadow. No explanation is forthcoming although Timothy Peterson, Professor of Ornithology at the University of Georgia had this to say.”

  The screen switched to a tall man standing outside a collegiate-looking brick building. “It could be the result of a washing machine-type thunderstorm extremely high in the atmosphere. This type of storm would agitate and create a vortex, suddenly appearing and sucking the red-winged blackbirds into its midst and spitting them back onto the ground.”

  Petal rocked back and forth. “How could she?”

  The announcer, a blonde woman with skin like rosy plastic and eyes so rimmed in makeup they might have been painted on, held the microphone to her full-lipped mouth. She stood at the edge of the meadow with a view of the carnage behind her. “Of course, there are other explanations for the bizarre phenomenon.”

  The camera drew back to reveal a bony woman with gray hair down to the middle of her back. Her face burned with intensity. “This is obviously a government conspiracy. It’s the result of a doomsday weapon experiment. Wake up, America!”

  Behind her, a small group carried signs and chanted. The scene reminded Nora of the activists who hounded her about manmade snow on the peaks. Her stomach churned.

  The announcer smiled knowingly. “According to conspiracy theorists, there is such a doomsday weapon in development since the 1970s. The HAARP facility in Gakona, Alaska is home to what was once touted as Star Wars Defense.” The screen flipped from the announcer’s face to a photograph of a group standing in front of an array of towers.

  Petal gasped. She pointed. “Sylvia,” she whispered.

  Nora leaned forward. It was difficult to tell with the grainy shot, but a petite woman with curly black hair stood in the front row. It could be Sylvia.

  The announcer continued. “The government and private contractors insist they are performing ionospheric research for better communications. But some, including former Minnesota Governor, Jesse Ventura, say HAARP is creating weapons of mass destruction.” The screen flashed a video of Jesse Ventura at the gates of a government facility, presumably HAARP, being pushed back and refused entry.

  Back to the announcer. “Midnight thunderstorms, government weapons testing, or signs that the world is coming to an end? Whatever the reason, residents of Harris County will be cleaning up for some time.” The plastic-faced reporter signed off on her segment of the day’s bizarre stories from around the country.

  The program cut to a commercial and Petal collapsed into sobs. “I did this. It’s my fault!”

  34

  Petal fell to the floor in a heap and Abigail patted her back. “You had nothing to do with this, dear.”

  Nora’s first instinct was to console and protect Petal’s total vulnerability. That’s the thing, though. You can’t protect people from the world.

  Abigail jabbed the Off button and huddled over Petal. “I know it’s hard to see all that death.” With her facial gyrations, Abigail signaled Nora for help.

  Petal pulled away and rolled into a ball, sobbing. “She promised. Never again. She promised. She promised.”

  Abigail sent Nora a puzzled expression. Maybe Mark and Sylvia were right about Petal: Don’t feed the drama.

  Abbey whined. He sniffed at Petal and came to Nora, thrusting his nose into her hand.

  “Who promised? What did they promise?” Abigail asked.

  Petal inhabited her own world. “No more death. She said it. No more.”

  Abigail and Nora half-lifted Petal and plopped her on the couch. Abigail snugged in beside her and Nora knelt in front. “Calm down, Petal. Tell us what you mean.”

  Petal swiped her sleeve across her eyes and nose. “First it was the fish kill in Missouri. And now this.” Sob, sob, sob. “They were innocent birds. They didn’t need to die.” Even more sobbing. “She lied. She lied.”

  Maybe Nora should call an ambulance to take Petal to the nearest psych ward. “You’re going to have to start at the beginning if you want us to understand.”

  Petal hiccupped and turned her red-rimmed eyes to Nora. “Sylvia.”

  No surprise there. “Sylvia what?”

  Petal sniffed. “She killed those birds.”

  While Abigail rubbed Petal’s back, she opened her eyes wide, tilted her head, and dropped her jaw. She either had a sudden stroke or she tried to communicate silently with Nora. If Nora had to guess, Abigail was saying Petal was one enchilada short of a combination plate.

  Her silent message delivered, Abigail concentrated on Petal. “How could Sylvia have anything to do with those birds? She was here in Boulder at the funeral this morning.”

  Petal shook her head, eyes watering again. “She can do it all from here. She did it.”

  Nora had nothing to say.

  In between intense eye roll signals to Nora, Abigail said to Petal, “When you calm down you’ll see you’re not making sense.”

  Nora tried to fit the bits of Petal’s scattered thoughts into some shape. “Does this have to do with the tower? Is it linked to the HAARP research?”

  Petal grew still, like a frightened kitten hiding in a corner. “Yes,” she squeaked.

  “What is harp?” Abigail asked, impatience fraying her words.

  Nora answered for Petal. “Sylvia worked there before she came to the Trust.”

  “What does that have to do with birds dying?” Abigail asked.

  Nora answered Abigail. “I don’t know. She said she researched sending a beam up to bounce in the ionosphere. She’s using that technology to gather data on climate and beetle kill. What do you know, Petal?”

  Irritation colored Abigail’s voice. “You’re speaking Greek.”

  Petal sniffed. “It’s more than that. The HAARP facility is in Alaska because it’s close to the atmospheric conditions like the aurora borealis. It’s all really secure with government soldiers and things.”

  “I still don’t see where this has anything to do with birds,” Abigail said.

  Nora understood that Petal needed to wind down the path of her brain to get to any meaningful destination. Abigail might as well slow her pace.

  “Tell us everything,” Nora said.

  Petal inhaled a shaky breath. “When we worked for the private contractor who worked for the government, we studied communication systems based on bouncing lasers off the ionosphere. But we also worked secretly on weapons research.”

  Abigail opened her mouth, probably to hurry Petal along.

  Nora jumped in. “You worked with Sylvia before?”

  Tears seeped from Petal’s eyes. “I’ve been with her for seven years.”

  That was one clue to Petal’s age. “Go on.”

  Petal searched Nora’s face as if to test her worthiness. “While we were with HAARP, we found Nikola Tesla’s secret studies and they showed the exact frequencies needed for incredible power. The technology we discovered can be used to alter the weather.”

  Right. And Santa Claus kept a list with Nora perpetually in the wrong column.

  “So Sylvia learned to alter the weather. Why did she quit HAARP?” Nora said.

  “She
didn’t quit. She was fired.” Petal swiped her nose with her sleeve.

  “Why?” Abigail asked.

  “She wasn’t doing any of the work but taking credit for it and they finally figured it out.”

  “Why didn’t she publish her findings?” Nora asked gently.

  “They made her sign a document about government secrets and that she wouldn’t continue her research.”

  “But she has?” Abigail crossed the room and grabbed another tissue from a box on the counter bar. She handed it to Petal.

  Petal wiped her eyes and nodded. “Besides, if Sylvia tried to publish her work there’s a good chance someone would kill her.”

  Abigail’s eyes narrowed in offense. “From our government? That’s preposterous.”

  It sounded more like a spy novel than real life. Maybe that’s where Petal came up the plot.

  “Now all those innocent birds are dead.” Her voice faded into sobs.

  Abigail did some weird eye roll thing that Nora thought meant Petal was not just crazy but a full-out Looney Tunes.

  Nora tried to ground Petal. “But changing weather doesn’t have anything to do with thousands of dead birds.”

  Changing weather. One of the prophecies had to do with weather.

  Petal gulped. “It’s the freak thunderstorm like the ornithologist said.”

  “But he said there was no record of the phenomenon,” Abigail said.

  “That’s because it happened so far up in the atmosphere the only indication was the impact it had on the birds.”

  The pieces didn’t fit together any better than Petal’s outfit. “Even if this is what happened and Sylvia is behind it, why would she do it?”

  Petal looked from Abigail to Nora. She lowered her voice. “Because she’s really not working for the Trust. That’s just her cover.”

  “Cover for what?”

  “She’s continuing to work on controlling the weather.”

  Abigail stood. “I think we need coffee. Nora, can you help me find the beans you like?”

  Even a flake like Petal could see through that obvious ploy. Nora rose and followed Abigail into the kitchen. Abigail opened and shut cupboards, all the time keeping an eye on Petal over the breakfast bar. “If it were me, I’d keep them here.” She nearly yelled and banged a cupboard door closed.