“That’s right.”
“I must say, you’ve done wonders with the building renovations. It’s been an eyesore for months, but it looks terrific now.” Henry Fellows, a long-time resident of Crane and a former member of the town council, had owned “Hank’s Hearty Home-Cooking,” The Diner’s only competition in town. The restaurant’s kitchen had been demolished by a hit-and-run driver last spring, however, and to make matters worse, Henry had been given a two-month jail term for his involvement with the accident. He was back in Crane, although no one had seen much of the fussy, middle-aged man since his return.
“Thank you,” Tiernay said, nodding at Anna’s compliment. “Mr. Fellows gave us a really good price because the place was in such rough shape. My brother, Greg, drew up the renovation plans himself. I’m very proud of Greg – he’s got an artistic soul.”
“What kind of business are you opening?” Anna asked.
“It’s called ‘Healing Hands’ – part store, part massage therapy clinic. I’m a registered massage therapist, by the way. The store will be open in the afternoons, and the clinic in the evenings. I’m not much of a morning person,” she said with a lazy smile, “although I’m up with the birds lately. There’s so much to do with the store opening this week.”
“Sounds intriguing. When do you open?”
“The stars will be in their proper alignment on Friday.”
“Really? Are you an astrologist, too?” Anna asked with a condescending smile. She didn’t hold much truck with astrology.
“Among other things.” Tiernay leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs again. Anna wanted to tell Steve to put his tongue back in his mouth, but kept the comment to herself.
Mary returned with Anna’s breakfast and plunked it down on the table in front of her. Catching the waitress’s eye, Tiernay said, “Excuse me, ma’am. I’m Tiernay Rae, owner of the new store that’s opening across the street. I wonder if I could talk to the owner about putting up a flyer in your window.”
Mary paused to consider her, a hand on her hip. “What kind of flyer?”
Tiernay held up the poster for Mary to see. “It’s for a cleansing ceremony after the store closes on Saturday night. Everyone in town is welcome. I always do a cleansing ceremony when I’m in a new location, plus I want to get rid of any negative energy left over from the accident.”
Mary shrugged and reached for the flyer. “Sure, I’ll put it in the window. Frank Crow, the restaurant owner, sits on the town council. He’s always happy to promote local business.”
“Marvellous. Thanks so much,” Tiernay said with a patronizing smile. “By the way, would you bring me a pot of green tea?”
“Sure. Be right back,” Mary said as she left.
“Cleansing ceremonies, negative energy, stars’ alignment – what’s that all about, if you don’t mind my asking?” Anna said, picking up her fork and taking a bite of her steaming, peppery omelette. She closed her eyes and chewed slowly, taking a moment to savour Frank’s cooking.
“She’s a witch,” Steve said. Anna’s eyes popped open, and she stared at Steve’s grinning face.
“Now, don’t tease, Steve,” Tiernay said, shaking her head at him. “You can call me a Wiccan, if you like, Anna, although I don’t like being pigeon-holed by conformist religious definitions. Healing Hands will promote physical, emotional, and spiritual health, however people choose to arrive at it.”
Mary returned with a mug and a tea pot and plopped them down in front of the young woman. “Only had brown,” she said over her shoulder as she bustled away.
Tiernay frowned at the pot, poured some tea into the mug, and sipped it warily. Shuddering, she returned the mug to the table before continuing the conversation.
“Steve here, for instance, has an imbalance between his left and right sides. See how his left shoulder is higher than his right? His ‘qi’– his energy flow – is blocked, which can lead to a weakened immune system.”
One side of Steve’s mouth curled upward. “So, how would you suggest I fix that, Tiernay?”
She studied him for a moment. “We could start with massage. I’m sure that I could work out the blockage with my hands. But I could also give you an herbal tincture that would help dissolve the blockage and purge your system.”
“I’m not too keen on the purging, but I sure could use a good massage.”
Tiernay looked deep into his eyes and said, “Give me your hand.” Their eyes locked as he slowly extended it. She took it between her own and held it for a long moment. “It’s a little cool,” she murmured. “We need to increase your energy flow.” She began massaging the flesh between his thumb and forefinger, watching his face as she did so. After half a minute, Steve sighed and closed his eyes.
“That’s it. Let the tension go,” Tiernay purred.
Anna stopped eating to watch them. “I think it’s working. Look, the crease between Steve’s eyes has already smoothed out,” she said with a sardonic grin. Tiernay ignored her to begin kneading his palm with her thumbs. Steve’s mouth dropped open.
“Holding a free clinic, Tiernay?” a baritone voice asked from behind Anna. She turned and saw a stranger standing at her shoulder. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, a tall, lean man with shaggy black hair and a glittering emerald stud in one ear. A prominent hooked nose gave him an aristocratic appearance, but good-humoured brown eyes saved him from seeming haughty. He smiled at Anna, swung the table’s remaining chair around, and straddled it. Steve tried to free his hand, but Tiernay clung to it as she continued her massage.
“Where did you pop up from?” she asked, her eyes on her work.
“Oh, I’ve been all over town,” the stranger replied.
Tiernay released Steve’s hand with a final caress across the palm and turned her head to gaze at the stranger. “Anna, Steve, this is my big brother, Gregory,” she said. “Greg and I are partners in the store. Greg, this is Anna Nolan and Constable Steve Walker.”
“Yes, but I’m more of a ‘silent’ partner. I won’t actually be working in the store,” Greg said. He gave Steve a casual nod, but took Anna’s hand and raised it to his lips in one smooth gesture. “Anna, I’m delighted to make your acquaintance,” he murmured, kissing it. Anna’s eyes assessed him coolly. In her experience, only a particular kind of man did that sort of thing, and she didn’t want to meet another one.
“Don’t let Greg bother you. He likes to practise old-fashioned European courtesies,” Tiernay said in a dry voice.
“Are you old-fashioned, Greg?” Anna asked, slipping her hand from his grasp.
“No, but it’s a good excuse to kiss the hands of beautiful women whenever I get the chance,” he replied with an impish grin.
Anna found it impossible not to return his smile. “And how’s that working for you?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.
“You’d be surprised how well a little old-fashioned charm works on the gentler sex.”
“No I wouldn’t. I married a graduate of the old-fashioned charm school myself.”
“Lucky you. Still married to him?”
“We got divorced, and then another woman shot him,” Anna replied, straight-faced. “So you might want to rethink some of those old European courtesies of yours.”
Greg nodded with a poker face. “You’ll have to tell me all about him some day.”
“Would it do any good?” Anna asked, winning a chuckle from him.
“Oh, I like her,” Greg said.
“So, how’s the flyer distribution going?” Tiernay asked.
He broke his gaze from Anna’s face to heft a leather pouch onto the table. Opening it, he displayed the contents to his sister. “The flyers are half gone.”
“Well, we’d better get busy on the rest,” she replied, rising from the table. Tiernay was about to say more when she paused, her mouth frozen open in mid-sentence. Her face flushed, and she broke into a sweat.
“No . . . leave us alone,” she murmured, staring into the distance.
“Sis?” Greg said as Steve and Anna stared at her.
Tiernay’s eyes rolled toward the ceiling, and her knees buckled. Greg grabbed her around the waist as Steve sprang to his feet to help.
“What’s wrong?” Greg asked in alarm.
“I just felt this overwhelming sense of evil,” she whispered, staring at him with huge eyes. “Give me a moment.”
“Here, you’d better sit down,” Greg said, helping her back into her chair. Steve reseated himself, watching the young woman attentively. Tiernay closed her eyes and raised a hand to her temple as Greg explained to Anna and Steve, “She gets these premonitions from time to time.”
Tiernay’s eyes opened. “It felt like something was trying to smother me,” she whispered. “I had to fight it off. It’s gone now.” She pointed across the table at Anna. “It was you! The evil was following you,” she declared in a stronger voice. Anna gazed back in astonishment as Tiernay rose and hurried around the table to stand beside her.
“May I?” she asked, lifting Anna’s chin and peering into her eyes before Anna had a chance to respond. “You have a very old spirit – even primitive, I’d say. You’re strong. That’s good. The evil will not easily overpower you.”
Anna jerked her chin out of Tiernay’s hand and muttered, “That’s a lot of crazy talk.”
Tiernay’s eyes sparkled with anger, and she drew herself up to her full height. “It’s not crazy. You listen to me, Anna Nolan. Something poisonous is coming to get you. I frightened it away, but it will be back. As soon as you feel anything, you come and tell me about it. I’m deadly serious about this, do you hear?”
Anna stiffened as she studied Tiernay. She had no idea why this bizarre young woman was trying to frighten her, but she decided to play along until she found out. “Okay, I’ll come running as soon as I feel anything,” she said, nodding and relaxing back into her chair.
Tiernay’s anger evaporated, and she patted Anna’s shoulder. “Good. Don’t worry, I’m sure that we can handle it between the two of us.” Turning to Steve, she added, “Well, Greg and I have work to do. You will come by for that massage sometime, won’t you?”
The constable rose from his chair. “I’ll be sure to do that. Good luck with your opening on Friday.”
Greg stood as well and bowed to Anna. “Wonderful to meet you, lovely lady,” he said. “Take good care of yourself.” Nodding at Steve, he added, “Constable.”
Tiernay trailed behind her brother on the way to the cash register, where she paused as Greg paid Mary for the tea. “Don’t forget to come to the cleansing ceremony on Saturday, everyone,” she called before sauntering out the door.
Steve sat down with an amused smile, but Anna didn’t find anything funny in what had just happened.
“What was all that nonsense about evil following me? Was she serious?”
Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s just an act she puts on to promote her business. It doesn’t really matter, does it? She didn’t spook you, did she?”
Anna frowned. “Not really, but she looked so sincere when she warned me. She seemed to really believe what she was saying.”
Steve shivered and rubbed his hands together. “You’d better be careful. The bogey man’s coming to get you, and just in time for Halloween.”
Anna punched him in the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. Tiernay’s as phoney as a three-dollar bill.”
“Ow,” he complained, rubbing the sore spot. “Well, who cares? You know what? I think that Tiernay and her brother are going to liven things up around here. She definitely brightened my day.” He stood and stretched. “Gotta go get some sleep. See you around, Anna.”
“Tiernay Rae brightened up your day, did she?” Anna mumbled to his retreating back. “Some people just don’t have any sense.” She forked up some omelette and ground it between her teeth. But, thinking of Greg and his hand-kissing, she smiled.
Chapter Three
Having two days off made for a short work week, especially since the department was priming for mid-term exams. Anna was kept especially busy trying to sort through the extra printing the faculty had ordered and tracking the essays that were flooding into her office. Just once, she wished that the professors would give her a break and make the students hand in their assignments during class time, but no such luck.
It was Saturday before Anna knew it. She woke up at seven-thirty and glanced blearily at the clock. Normally she enjoyed sleeping late on the weekends, but Wendy, her three-year-old shepherd/labrador cross, lifted her head from the carpet and stared at Anna with her soft brown eyes, and Anna relented and got up. After taking care of her pet’s needs, she enjoyed a long, luxurious shower before leaving her cottage on the outskirts of town to walk the seven blocks to The Diner.
It was a dreary day with a fine, cold rain blowing sideways across her face that chilled her. Anna tucked her head inside the hood of her coat and power-walked all the way. Reaching the restaurant door, she rushed inside, stopping on the rubber mat to shake the rain from her clothes. A buzz of conversation and the scent of frying onions greeted her inside the warm, steamy room.
“Morning, Anna!” boomed a familiar voice. She looked up and nodded at Clive Wampole, a tall hulk of a man in overalls and a plaid shirt who farmed his widowed mother’s acreage. Clive’s chosen mode of transportation was a shiny blue tractor; Anna had missed it parked out front of the restaurant in her haste to get inside. Clive was partially deaf and hadn’t heard her come in, but he had felt the blast of cool air from his seat at the counter and swivelled around to check her out.
“Wet enough for you?” he asked. That, and its variants, were part of Clive’s standard repertoire. “Hot enough? Cold enough?” Good old Clive, he was nothing if not consistent.
“You bet, Clive,” Anna said, patting his arm. She looked around the crowded tables and spotted Mary pouring coffee for Mr. Andrews, a retired rancher who spent most mornings reading the newspaper at The Diner. Anna’s book club friends, Erna Dombrosky and May Weston, were seated with him, laughing over a shared joke. May was wearing one of her hand-knit sweaters, an orange concoction with a row of yellow jack-o’-lanterns that clashed horribly with her ruddy complexion. Her steel-grey hair was blunt cut at chin level, accentuating the squareness of her face. Seventy-five-year-old Erna looked cozy in a green wool cardigan buttoned over a tweed skirt, her black pumps visible through pull-on vinyl rain boots. She turned and waved at Anna, her sharp blue eyes twinkling. Anna waved back and was about to join them when Frank’s face appeared at the kitchen pass-through.
“Hi, Anna. You’re early this morning. Got something important to do today?” Frank, a refugee from the hippies’ era, wore his grey hair long and pulled back into a ponytail to complement his full beard and moustache. In his late fifties, he was of medium height with a slight paunch, but his stomach was offset by a muscular chest and arms. Frank had worked hard at manual labour all of his life until enrolling in a cooking school in his early forties. Bankrolling the restaurant twelve years ago had been a strain, but the gamble had paid off and The Diner had become a success. Now Frank was a well-respected businessman and a member of the Rotary Club.
Anna strolled over to lean against the counter beside Clive. “Morning, Frank. Nope, just woke up early. Is the special ready yet? I feel like something different today.” Frank’s breakfast special was only available on Saturdays and was one of the reasons why The Diner was so popular with the motorcycle crowd who rode down from Calgary to eat it. It combined rich layers of egg, Swiss cheese, mushrooms, spinach, ham and cream, and was served with baking powder biscuits.
“I just got a fresh batch out of the oven,” Frank said. His girlfriend, Judy, yawned as she strolled out of the kitchen, still tying her apron strings behind her back. Judy’s teased blond hair was covered by a white Stetson, which she teamed with a plaid shirt, jeans, and boots. She had a full-time job with a local real estate agency, but helped Mary out with the waitressing on Saturdays. Frank re
ciprocated by keeping The Diner closed on Sundays so that they could enjoy a day off together.
“Morning, Anna,” Judy said. “What do you want to drink?”
“How about a hot chocolate? It’s so cold and damp this morning, I sure could use one.”
“You bet, honey. Coming right up,” Judy replied, turning to a stack of mugs on the service counter.
“How’s your mom doing, Clive?” Anna shouted into his ear.
“My mother? She’s doing good, thanks. The arthritis in her hands is acting up, though. I told her not to start making the pickles without me yesterday, but she wouldn’t listen. All that slicing is hard on her knuckles, especially in this weather. I’ve got a couple of jars for you in the tractor – Mother knows how much you love them.” During her first autumn in Crane, Anna had accepted a jar of Mrs. Wampole’s pickles and had choked on the toxic level of the vinegar. Every autumn thereafter, Mrs. Wampole had sent over two jars of pickles, and Anna had reciprocated with home-made cookies at Christmas.
“Hey, Clive, with Ben in school, I’m the only one at home these days. Maybe I should just take one jar. I wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”
“That’s okay, Anna. Give Ben a jar to share with his roommates next time he visits.” Anna smiled, knowing how much her son hated the pickles, too.
Judy squirted some whipped cream into Anna’s hot chocolate and placed the mug before her. A moment later, Mary slapped a plate of the special down in front of Clive, exchanging a nod with Anna before picking up a coffee pot and bustling away. Clive grabbed a bottle of tabasco sauce from beside the salt and pepper and splashed a generous dose on his food. Anna shook her head in disbelief.
“Clive, the way you eat that hot stuff, I don’t know why you don’t have a hole in your stomach.”
“Are you kidding? Why do you think I never get sick?” He forked a large piece into his mouth and quickly chewed it. Closing his eyes in appreciation, Clive moaned, “Oh, this is such good stuff.”
Town Haunts Page 2