The Suitcase

by T V Scribner

  "Of course," she said, greatly relieved. "That would be fine. What time would you like to meet? Besides,” she added, "I need food and a shower, before coming to work." Why did she have to say that last bit about a shower? Anyway, she thought, she wouldn't mind looking at those mysterious blue eyes again, that's for sure!

  "Well," and glancing cursorily at his watch, “how about meeting around one, this afternoon? Does that work for you?”

  She pondered for a moment or two, "Sure, where will I meet you?"

  "I'm not exactly sure which office I'll be using this week, because I've come here on assignment and I don't have a permanent office yet, so I'll wait for you at the receptionist's desk, or perhaps outside on the steps. I’ll have a temporary place to meet, by then." With that, he stood and nodded, shook her hand, and started to turn, then paused and looked back. "Ms. Ingles, please be careful on the way home...you never know who may be watching."

  CHAPTER 5

  Paisley nodded her head, turned, and though puzzled by his comment, shook it off and began threading her way through the tables, to the door. Several policemen watched her exit Ben’s Burgers, and once outside, she took a deep breath to clear her head. Today’s hubbub at Ben’s, had lured people from the surrounding mall establishments, curious about the cause of the extraordinary police presence, and many had wandered over to see what happened.

  Apparently, an event of this magnitude in Pinecrest, was not an everyday occurrence. Several people were standing near the entrance, talking about the earlier commotion to a man from the local TV station, while his cameraman recorded them. Hoping they hadn’t noticed her, Paisley pulled her hood over her head, crammed her hands in her hoodie pockets and skirted around those still gathering, as the news spread. Head down, she failed to notice a photographer, snapping pictures of her, as she hurried towards her Jeep.

  Fortunately, she had parked her Jeep Ranger off to the side in the parking lot, enabling her to make a quick getaway. As she neared the shiny white Jeep, she inhaled the aroma of burgers cooking, as it drifted out of Ben’s, reminding her of her hunger. Fumbling in her pocket for keys, she beeped open the door, and slithered into her seat, with a sigh of relief.

  The used Jeep Ranger, which Paisley bought shortly after arriving in Brainerd, was referred to, by those who knew her, as the White Tornado—not just because of its color—but because most of the time, she drove too fast. It was a bad habit from living in California, where drivers viewed a speed limit, as just a suggestion. However, as she sat slumped in the driver’s seat, she felt relief, coupled with exhaustion, and today, felt no compulsion to speed. The drama and horror of the event, was just beginning to register.

  The weather had warmed, and as the temperature increased, so did the number of people heading for the stores, which would soon be humming. It was the season, she’d been told, to buy bug spray, mosquito repellant, grass seed, fertilizers and annuals to brighten yards after the long Minnesota winters. Fortunately, she hadn’t experienced mosquitoes—yet! Paisley turned the key in the ignition, and the Jeep roared to a start…well, maybe roar wasn’t quite the word, but the engine was running.

  She eased out of the parking lot, and turned left onto the highway heading south-east towards Brainerd, to her Aunt’s farmhouse. Once she crossed from Pinecrest into Brainerd, eight more miles and she could turn south, onto County Road 38. Fifteen minutes later she made the turn, stepped on the gas, and flew down the road into the freedom of the countryside, putting the murder behind her, for the moment.

  Brainerd Open land, with copses of large oak and birch trees, drew her attention. Most of their leaves had already emerged, with the rest creating a celery-green haze across some of the still visible, tree trunks and branches. Cows meandered towards giant round hay bales, which looked like over-sized, tan polka dots decorating the fields, which were still recovering from winter. She passed a farm with a small herd of sleek, Arabian horses cantering across a field, attempting to rid itself of the last vestiges of snow, hidden in shaded areas of the land.

  In the distance, she noticed a murder of crows. She loved the group designation for the scavenger birds, who pranced around on the road ahead, stalking some newly found road kill. She made a mental note, to avoid running over whatever-it-was, as she disliked the thought of further adding, to what was already an unsightly mess. By the time she neared, they all took flight—but not until the last minute—how daring, she thought!

  Several more farms loomed in the distance, which she passed, without so much as a glance, because she’d finally spotted the large red barn and farmhouse belonging to Uncle Vlad and Aunt Olga, in its rustic setting on a heavily wooded piece of land. She looked forward to a shower, a change of clothes and something to eat, because it was already midmorning, and so far, she only had a few sips of her soft drink. The Jeep bounced down the long dirt driveway of the quaint farmhouse, and Paisley parked, turned off the engine and hurried into an entrance, on the south side of the house. The entered led into a small mud room, where she deposited her dirty tennies, before entering the farmhouse kitchen.

  She was eager to tell Aunt Olga about her unbelievable morning at Ben’s Burgers, as she walked into the spacious kitchen—her favorite room—and set her keys and purse on the end of a rustic oak dining table. The kitchen felt homey, like something out of the magazine, Farmhouse Journal. There were old copies of this magazine piled by the large brick fireplace, and Paisley enjoyed perusing some of the issues.

  The enormous, claw-footed oak table sat at one end of the kitchen, with chairs on three sides, and a bench on the other. A delicate, ecru crocheted-lace tablecloth, adorned the table, with a round wooden bowl planted in the center, containing a variety of fruit. Open shelves on the back wall, were filled with things you’d expect to find in a pantry, like canned goods, large glass canisters of flour, sugar, various types of noodles, beans, and corn for popping.

  Shelves covered a wall next to the counter where all the various pots and pans resided, while the cupboards over the counters, with their glass doors, held dinnerware and glassware. On one end of the room, a small breakfast nook contained a small tea table and chairs, with a view through a large bay window, onto a beautiful flower garden, which Aunt Olga obviously tended, with love.

  Paisley’s Aunt heard her enter, and turned to greet her, as Paisley ran towards her with a big hug, and said, “Oh, Aunt Olga! I’m so glad to be back from my run, and you’ll never believe what happened today! But first, I need to freshen up.”

  “Okay, I make some food.” That was Aunt Olga’s go-to, for anything—good news, bad news, gossip, or visitors—first thing she’d say was, “I make some food,” then she’d make coffee, and whip up something special.

  Without giving her Aunt a chance to say anything else, Paisley grabbed a glass of orange juice from the fridge and picked up her purse and satchel, as she exited the kitchen, and headed towards the bathroom. Ready for a relaxing shower, she turned on the water, shed her clothes and stepped into the warm water, where she luxuriated for fifteen minutes. After drying off, she went to her bedroom to get dressed.

  For her return to the precinct to meet with Detective Boone, she chose a pair of dark blue jeans, and a pale-pink, cotton shirt, both of which accentuated her lithe body, and long legs. After drying her hair, she pulled back the curly bronze tresses, fastening them with a clip. However, wisps of hair always seemed to escape, and fall to the sides of her face, drawing attention to her amber eyes and long lashes.

  She yanked the sweaty hoodie off the bed and threw it towards the hamper, causing several objects to fall out of the pocket, onto the floor. Leaning down she picked them up, and tossed them in her purse. A swipe of lip gloss across her rosy lips, a quick evaluation in the mirror, and the satchel and purse were scooped up, as she headed to the kitchen, rushing into its delicious aromas. She settled into a chair positioned close to the stove, which resembled the old-fashioned cast iron models, with claw-footed legs raising it half a foot or more,
off the floor.

  Aunt Olga hustled towards the oven to check on the blueberry muffins, then said, “Here…have coffee, my dear…blueberry muffins, ready in minute or two. You like this snack?” Aunt Olga spoke with a thick Russian accent, which Paisley loved, because of the staccato way she put her words together…it was endearing.

  “Smells so good,” Paisley said, closing her eyes and enjoying the aroma wafting through the kitchen, then she headed to the refrigerator, across the old-fashioned braided rug, centered on the oak-plank kitchen floor. She poured herself a second glass of orange juice and grabbed the jar of homemade butter for the muffins, then sat on the other side of the table, closest to the raised hearth, which beckoned to her, with its fireplace full of logs, warming the kitchen. Aunt Olga mentioned how years ago, during cold winters, a kettle of boiling water hung over the roaring flames everyday, to act as a humidifier for the farmhouse, during the frigid Minnesota winters.

  Wearing an old-fashioned, red gingham apron, her Aunt carried a tray to the table, “Ready to eat?”

  Paisley had been staring at a picture of her Aunt and Uncle, which hung over fireplace, and turned towards her Aunt, eyeing the muffins, and said, “These look delicious! Of course, I’m starved!”

  She stared at the picture over the fireplace again, while she ate, thinking how her Aunt looked much the same now, as she did back then. She wore a floral-print dress in the picture, with long sleeves, just like she wore now. It seemed all the dresses Paisley saw her wear, were the same as the one in the picture, except made from different prints. No matter how warm it was in the house, she always wore dresses with long sleeves, and sometimes a sweater. How odd, she thought?

  Looking back at her Aunt, she smiled, as she grabbed two more muffins off the plate, and sipped her coffee. She told her Aunt the exciting events of the morning, and Aunt Olga was shocked to hear of the murder at Ben’s Burgers. Concern, spread over her face, “I worry for you!” she said.

  The last thing Paisley wanted, was to give her Aunt more reasons to be upset, and immediately said, “I don’t want to worry you, everything’s fine.”

  Her Aunt, changing the subject, confessed, “I’m glad you come to stay here, dear. I miss having Vlad at house with me, and it’s nice to cook for you. I am not lonely.”

  Paisley, reaching for another muffin and referring to her Aunt’s last comment said, “I’m grateful for everything you do for me. I never cooked while attending the Police Academy, in California. My freezer was packed with cheap frozen meals, and most nights, I resorted to fast food places for sustenance.” She chuckled, and so did Aunt Olga. Even though Paisley wasn’t always sure her Aunt understood her humor, it seemed whenever Paisley laughed, her Aunt always joined in.

  Since arriving in Brainerd, several months ago, Paisley’s fondness for her Aunt, had grown. Staying at the farm gave her a chance to adjust to the area, before having to find her own place. Her Aunt’s round face, rosy cheeks and gray eyes, which squinted when she smiled, made her happy, and the move to Minnesota, much easier. Although her Aunt was short and overweight, in a plump sort of way, it didn’t slow her down, as she scurried around the kitchen and the farm. She wondered how old her Aunt was, but didn’t want to be rude, and ask.

  “Eat, eat!” Olga repeated.

  “Honestly, I’m stuffed!” Paisley moaned, as she eyed another muffin, and reminiscing about visiting her Aunt years ago, she said, “When our family came to visit one summer, so many years ago, I was only six years old, but I still remember how much fun we had. You made blueberry muffins then, too,” and she added, “who would’ve thought I’d ever move out here?”

  Paisley knew very little about her Aunt…only a few sparse facts from family members. She remembered her Father telling her years ago, that Aunt Olga Shenkovsky, was originally from Russia, and immigrated to America, as a newly-wed with her husband, Vladimir, in their early twenties. Her dad said he was told they came to Minnesota, worked hard, and eventually purchased the Brainerd farm, adding more and more acreage, as the years progressed.

  Apparently, the Shenkovskys had twin sons, who unfortunately were killed in a helicopter accident, while in a branch of the armed forces. Paisley was very interested in learning more about her Aunt’s past, but every time she brought up the subject of family, or her Russian past, Olga changed the subject. This made Paisley curious, and she wondered, did her Aunt have something to hide? A clicking on the oak flooring, suddenly came from the mud room. It was the nails of paws, tapping on the floor,

  “Oh! Abby…I get food,” and Aunt Olga hurried out of the kitchen into the mud room, mumbling to herself. She explained to Paisley, how Uncle Vlad found Abby years ago, abandoned alongside the road, when she was a pup. They adopted Abby and she lived with them ever since, and was like a child to them. Abby was well trained, and came into the mud room, but only as far as the kitchen doorway, then waited, as Olga waddled out to feed her.

  Paisley watched and smiled, while finishing her coffee. Aunt Olga explained, “Abby is Australian breed… a Blue Heeler…breed makes good cattle and horse herder. They are smart…easy to train. Good guard dog.“

  Abby was all that, Paisley thought. She loved being in the pasture with the cows and horses, and barked whenever strangers came to the door, and was protective of the Shenkovskys’ farm and Paisley, who loved her, too.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Abby, miss my Vlad, too," Aunt Olga said, coming back into the kitchen. Paisley noticed her Aunt's expression had turned to one of sadness. Olga's husband, Vladimir, had been in the hospital for four weeks, while the doctors ran tests to determine what was wrong. Since he was very ill, Olga visited him in the hospital, as much as possible. Several weeks ago, the Doctors finally revealed he had terminal cancer, and wasn't coming home. This was when Olga began going to the hospital almost every day, and sometimes staying overnight.

  Paisley, seeing the anguish on her Aunt’s face said, “Hey!” then stood up and went to her, giving her a big hug. “Don’t be sad. Uncle Vlad wouldn’t want you to worry…look, I’m going to work now, but when I get home tonight, we’ll pop corn and play some card games, okay?”

  The dark cloud disappeared from Olga’s countenance, as quickly as it had come, and when her Aunt lifted her head, she said, "We play tomorrow...I see Vlad tonight and stay."

  "Then, please say hello to him, for me...and give him my love. I'm sorry, I have to go now,” she said, walking to the table, and grabbing her purse and satchel. She gave her Aunt a big smile, threw the satchel strap over her shoulder, took her purse and keys, and headed for the mudroom.

  "Bye, Abbey!" As she exited the farmhouse, she bent to pat the dog, who licked her fingers. Wondering what lay ahead at the office, she climbed into her Jeep. Okay, Detective Boone, I'm on my way, she thought, and found herself looking forward to the meeting. But first, one more piece of business to take care of…she needed to call Ben Wister.

  Starting the car, she drove down the dirt driveway, onto the paved road towards town. The atmosphere of the mid-west, rural setting, was exactly what Paisley needed. Paisley's Mother had suggested she leave California after her divorce, and the two difficult years that followed. “It will give you a place to start over,” her Mother said, so she finally decided to make the move. Now, after being in Minnesota for such a brief time, she realized the much-needed change of scenery, was working.

  But her thoughts were abruptly interrupted, when the voice on the radio said, "...and later, clouds will gather, and there will be possible thunderstorms, lasting into late evening..." The radio droned on, causing her thoughts to drift back to California, and her decision to leave.

  Her feeling of contentment, as she breathed in the cool country air and surveyed the beauty of the fields, blew thoughts of California away. The rest of the day was going to be fine, despite the unsettling events of the morning. The sun moved from behind a cloud, causing her to reach for her purse to retrieve her sunglasses. Eyes on the road, she fumbled in her purse, u
ntil out of frustration, pulled onto the shoulder, and stopped. Dumping its contents onto the passenger seat, everything fell out except the sunglasses, which apparently, were stuck in the bottom. She pulled them out, and put them on, then began returning the items on the car seat, to her purse.

  It was then she observed, two small objects. One was her new chapstick, which she unceremoniously dropped in her purse. Picking up the other object, she turned it in her fingers, realizing it was the item she’d rescued from under the freezer door, at Ben's. She stared at it. It was a flash drive, but not one of hers. The only ones she used, were PNY drives, but this one was not a familiar brand— in fact, it was no brand. Realizing the flash drive must have belonged to Ben, she made a mental note to return it.

  According to her watch, she had plenty of time to get to the precinct, so she decided make a quick call to Ben, before getting back on the road. Paisley found his number in her contacts, and punched it into her phone, then put it on speaker and resumed driving.

  When he answered, she said, "Ben, this is Paisley. I'm on my way to work now, and thought I'd call to see how you're doing."

  "Oh, thanks for asking, Paisley...I'm hanging in there. The police wrapped up their investigation about an hour after or so, after you left this morning. What a relief to have them gone!

  "Okay...just wanted to make sure things were going better. By the way, I’ll probably be by a little later."

  "That'd be great. There's a couple of things I'd like to talk about,” he said.

  "Sure…we’ll do that,” she said, and wondered what he wanted to talk about?

  Pinecrest Ben Wister hung up, after speaking with Paisley. Since he’d purchased the eatery, in 2002, freezer safety had never been an issue, although, he did recall a time several years ago, when a teen worker was fooling around and hid in the freezer, but was discovered several minutes later, when one of the workers entered to get frozen chicken nuggets for the cooks.