Paige MacKenzie Mysteries Box Set

by Deborah Garner

  I’ll touch base with you soon, to let you know my progress.

  Say hi to everyone in the office.

  Paige

  Clicking on the “send” icon, Paige shot off the email, turned off and snapped shut the laptop and placed it back in its case. She still preferred to jot down notes by hand, but modern times required modern means of communication and she knew Susan needed a quick update. She was thankful for the convenience of wireless access at the inn and knew she’d miss that once she moved up to the cabin. With the email to Susan sent off, she could now set work aside and get organized.

  The rain appeared to be easing. The sound of a steady downpour had given way to a light pattering. Outside, raindrops fell from the edge of the roof, cascading from rain gutters, splashing against the cement sidewalk and disappearing into small puddles. The gray sky had lightened up a bit, though it was far from being sunny. Paige was already learning that Wyoming weather couldn’t be predicted. It could be sunny one moment and raining the next. The locals often quoted the old expression, “If you don’t like the weather, just wait ten minutes.” She was finding this to be true.

  She grabbed the overnight bag, gathered her other belongings and loaded up the trunk of her car. Checking briefly to be sure she hadn’t overlooked anything, she closed the door behind her. Turning her room key in at the office, she thanked the innkeepers for their hospitality and returned to her car. The sooner she could get into her new living space and start focusing on writing, the better.

  She pictured the cabin in her mind as she drove south a mile to the local K-Mart. The cabin had electricity and running water, a small bathroom, but no kitchen. There was a long table she remembered seeing outside, which she hoped to move inside and use for a makeshift kitchen. With this in mind, she found an open space halfway towards the back of the parking lot and headed inside the store, aiming first for the section with home appliances. She wouldn’t buy anything that she didn’t really need, or couldn’t take with her when she left, but she’d buy what she needed to get by in the cabin without too much discomfort.

  It was going to be too chilly in the evenings to get by on cold food alone, so she looked over the selection of smaller cooking devices and picked out a single electric burner, which could easily be set on the long table and plugged into the outlet on the cabin wall. She found a can opener in another aisle, making a mental note to pick up a variety of canned soup, dry pasta, a couple jars of marinara sauce and some oatmeal for cold mornings.

  She paused in front of a compact microwave oven, but decided she’d be able to make do with the burner and a small sauce pan, which she found on another nearby aisle. Moving on to an assortment of dishware, she was glad to see plates, bowls and silverware stacked and priced as single items. She picked up one of each, adding a ceramic mug with an image of a moose on it. It was all she would need. Having company over was not on her list of plans.

  Passing by the bedding section, she was thankful for the sleeping bag she carried with her whenever she was on a road assignment. Rolled up in the trunk, tucked against the side of the car, this was what she’d use to sleep in, saving her the expense of sheets and blankets. She picked up one pillow, to make her nights a little more comfortable. Moving on to a section of linens, she chose a bath towel in a soothing, sea foam green, as well as a hand towel and washcloth to match. She had everything else she needed for the bath with her already.

  Taking her selections to the front cashier, she made her purchases and exited the store. She threw the bags in the trunk of her car and headed next to the local market, where she picked up an assortment of food items that would not require refrigeration. It would be easy enough to fix simple meals without using perishables. She made sure to toss some fresh fruit into her basket, an added measure to keep from living on canned and packaged food alone. She could pick up milk or other items as needed, in small quantities. Bottled water would work for a beverage, along with coffee. Again, she was thankful for the items she always carried with her on the road, which included a small coffee maker and a grinder for coffee beans. Thinking of this, she added a package of French Roast coffee beans to her other selections. Impulsively, she grabbed a mixed cluster of fresh cut freesia and iris, along with a few small votive candles, to make the cabin feel a little more like home. She checked out at a front register and added the new purchases to the growing inventory in the trunk of her car.

  The drive back through town was an easy one. Even with a few mid day tourists cruising along, the traffic seemed almost nonexistent to Paige, being used to the frenzied pace of New York City. She made a left turn at the intersection of Broadway and Cache streets and headed in the direction of the cabin. Before long, the road passed into the wide, open space that bordered the north side of town. The rain had now let up completely and bright rays of light cascaded down from between the remaining clouds. Appaloosas grazed in a field to her left, gathered in by long stretches of wooden fencing that allowed the horses a generous space to roam.

  Twenty minutes later she arrived at the small cabin, pulled her car up alongside the porch and popped open the trunk. There was no sign of Dan and the workshop appeared to be closed. As she approached the front door of the cabin, she found a note tucked into the door jamb.

  “Gone to Idaho Falls for supplies. Make yourself at home. Back late tonight, Dan.”

  Paige looked around at the deserted property, realizing how quiet it suddenly seemed. The noises at the inn had been second nature to her, being so minor compared to the sound level of Manhattan. The street traffic had simply been soft background noise. Late guest arrivals in nearby rooms had gone unnoticed. Yet the absence of sound around her now was almost deafening.

  The door to the cabin creaked as she pushed it open and reached for the light switch. A ceiling light flickered on as she stepped inside, casting a weak glow across the front room. She made a note to pick up a small reading lamp the next time she went into town. It was unlikely the cabin’s dim light would be enough for writing.

  She unloaded the trunk of the car and set about arranging her new living accommodations. With some effort and a few hefty grunts, she dragged the table inside and pushed it against the far wall. She stacked her small collection of dishes to the right and set up the electric burner to the left. Up above, she placed the canned and dry food goods on the lower of the two long shelves. It took a little stretching to reach them, but it kept them out of the way.

  Searching around the yard outside, she found an old, green jar, halfway embedded in the ground. Bringing it inside, she rinsed the dirt off the smooth, glass surface and arranged the freesia and iris in it, adding a few sprigs of greenery from one of several bushes alongside Dan’s barn. She placed the makeshift flower vase on a small, square table in the second room, setting one of the votive candles beside it. She then rolled out her sleeping bag on the narrow bed and fluffed up the pillow she had purchased in town. This would do, she thought, as she sat down and looked around the room. It was rustic and basic, but comfortable. The bed and table, hand-crafted by Dan, were artfully designed in such a way that they blended perfectly with the antique log structure. The cabin had everything she would need. She was struck by how little it took to get by, thinking of the multitude of belongings at home that she had accumulated over the years. Yes, the cabin would do nicely.

  With the weather improving after the morning rain, she moved to the doorway and stood for a few minutes, surveying the property. A few old farm tools were propped against a shed about twenty yards away. A long deserted, metal milk can was resting on its side halfway between the cabin and the parking area. She walked out to it and brought it up to a standing position. Then glancing back at the cabin, she moved it closer, thinking it might make a good plant stand beside the front door.

  The porch itself, narrow as it was, looked inviting after the errands she had run and the work she had done inside the cabin. Paige pulled a weathered, wooden rocking chair closer to the door, retreated inside and emerged a f
ew minutes later with a book. Settling down into the chair, she opened the book to the spot she’d bookmarked the last time she’d had a chance to read.

  It wasn’t long before the sound of an approaching vehicle drew her attention toward the road. Certain that it would be Dan, she watched for his old, white van to pull into the driveway. Instead, she was surprised to see a red pick-up truck pass by. A decal of a cowboy riding a horse decorated the back window of the cab, a symbol she had seen frequently since arriving in Wyoming. The windows were slightly tinted and a thick coat of dust covered the exterior of the truck, similar to most vehicles around town. She watched the truck continue on, pausing for a bison crossing the road before disappearing from view.

  Returning to her book, she tried to continue reading, but found it difficult to concentrate. Not only were snippets of possible article topics seeping into her mind, but the temperature was dropping with every passing minute. True to the jokes about the weather, clouds were already starting to form again overhead. A chilly breeze was kicking up, weaving its way through the beams on each side of the porch and ruffling the pages of the book she now held firmly in her hands.

  Paige looked up at the sky and knew she didn’t have long to move back inside before the first raindrops fell. She set her book just inside the door and walked quickly around the side of the cabin, where a pile of split logs rested against the wall, a thick green tarp stretched across the top. Reaching under the tarp, she grabbed the wood, gathering logs into her arms quickly and moving them to the porch. Two armloads would be enough to stock the small fireplace inside and keep it going for awhile. She finished stacking the wood just as the rain began to pour down.

  Using one of several local newspapers accumulated over the past few days, she tore out a few pages, crumpled them into small wads and placed them along the bottom of the fireplace. Building on this, she placed small twigs and tree bark above the paper, stacking several of the split logs on top of those. She found a book of matches in one of her bags and lit the paper. Sitting back, she watched the progression of flames as they slowly moved up from the paper to the kindling, finally catching on the larger logs.

  It was soothing watching the fire and again she picked up her book and fell into reading. Only when she heard a sharp thud on the porch, followed by a knock, did she set the book down. She jumped up, crossed the room and opened the door, where she found Dan standing, his clothes and hair soaked from the rain.

  “I brought you a little something,” he said, pointing to a small refrigerator. “I had this in storage and thought you might be able to use it. I’ve been meaning to put it in here, anyway. Don’t need it in the house. Doesn’t hold much, but at least you can keep a few things cold.”

  “Great,” Paige responded with surprise. “I’m sure I’ll be able to use it. I was planning to live on canned food and fruit. Thanks for thinking of me.”

  Dan shook his head in amusement as he lifted the small, square refrigerator and brought it inside, placing it against the far wall, under the shelves.

  “I see you’ve gotten settled in a bit,” Dan said, looking around. “Looks nice and cozy, the way it should be.” His view took in the glowing fire and he nodded his head in approval.

  “I really like this cabin and appreciate your offer to let me stay. Oh, speaking of which,” Paige added quickly, turning away and crossing the room. She grabbed her purse off the long table, pulling out the first week’s rent and handing it to Dan. He took the money, folded it in half and put it in the back pocket of his jeans, thanked Paige and left, sprinting across the open lot to get out of the rain.

  The weather whipped up into a frenzied pace during the afternoon and evening. Paige stayed inside listening to the howling of the wind and pounding of the rain. The sounds of the storm echoed inside the old cabin, creating an isolated feeling and a sense of a larger force. To these haunting sounds of nature, Paige warmed a bowl of soup and ate in front of the fireplace, watching the flames slowly die down. Eventually her eyelids grew heavy and she curled up in the sleeping bag, fluffing her pillow before resting her head and falling asleep.

  The storm had eased by morning. Paige made a pot of freshly ground French Roast, poured some into her moose mug and looked out the front window. A light mist covered the mountains, weaving its way between trees. Dan’s black lab played alongside the driveway, chasing chipmunks and jumping in and out of low brush. Paige could hear the caw of a crow nearby and turned to see it sitting on the roof of the barn.

  Without Internet access, she knew she would have to head into town. It was likely that Susan had returned her email from the day before and she’d need to send a reply. She pulled on faded blue jeans and a red, long-sleeved, button-down shirt, adding a V-neck sweater over that, a dark blue knit with a heavy weave, one of her favorites. She lifted a hooded jacket off a wall hook, just in case the weather took another turn, grabbed her laptop case and cell phone and left the cabin to head toward Jackson.

  She pulled out of the driveway and started toward town, reaching up out of habit to adjust her rear view mirror. Looking behind her, she noticed the outline of a red truck, far enough behind her that she had not seen it while entering the road. She lifted her foot off the accelerator to allow the truck to move a little closer, curious if it might be the same one she had seen pass by the day before. Continuing to slow down, she finally pulled over at a scenic turnout, quickly grabbing a map in order to appear occupied. As the vehicle approached and prepared to pass her, she cautiously turned her head to the left, just in time to catch a glimpse of the driver. Somehow she was not at all surprised to find that the driver was Jake.

  She waited before pulling back out on the road, long enough to not call attention to herself, but not so long as to lose sight of the truck. Following it into town, she watched it pull into a parking space near the town square. Again she stopped her car and watched as Jake got out of the truck and walked to a bench in the center section of the square. He paced back and forth nervously, glancing occasionally at his watch.

  Paige estimated ten minutes passed while Jake paced, during which time his patience appeared to grow thinner, if she read the changing manner of his stride correctly. His steps became uneven and nervous. His arms crossed and uncrossed repeatedly. It was clear he was waiting for something and not at all pleased that it was taking as long as it was. Finally a man approached from the opposite side of the square, dressed in bulky clothing and wearing a cowboy hat pulled forward and to the side. The bench was partially blocked by trees and she was too far away to see their faces, but she could still tell the two men were engaged in a heated conversation. At one point the man who had approached Jake reached into his pocket and pulled something out, handing it over to Jake, who stuffed it quickly inside his jacket. Both men lingered, their arm motions telling Paige that they were speaking a few final, terse words. Finally they parted, moving away in opposite directions.

  Watching Jake walk east from the square, Paige suspected he was aiming for the Blue Sky Café and soon found she was right. He crossed through the park, walked under the antler arch and headed across the street, disappearing around the corner. Paige put her plans to check email on hold, locked her car and followed.

  The café was packed, more so than it had been on other mornings. Most tables were occupied and a line stretched from the counter halfway back to the door. This allowed Paige to enter un-noticed. She took a place behind the other customers waiting and looked nonchalantly down the line.

  Jake was just stepping up to the counter, ordering his usual black coffee. Looking around at the crowded cafe, he took stock of the few available tables and grabbed one in the back corner, set away from the rest. Leaning back against the wall, he quickly glanced around and took the envelope out of his jacket, opening it discreetly and pulling out a folded note. In Paige’s judgment, he appeared entirely consumed, his eyes scanning the paper from side to side, at times leaning closer to squint at whatever it contained.

  After a few minute
s, he folded up the paper abruptly, stuffed it back in his jacket and quickly walked out the door, leaving his coffee untouched on the table.

  Paige took her latte to go, opting not to follow Jake anymore. For one thing, he had disappeared too quickly when he hurried out of the café and Paige wasn’t sure which direction he had taken. For another thing, she needed to check her email and it had to be done before she headed back out of town.

  Ten minutes later she pushed open the glass doors of the library and headed to the computer area. To her relief, there was only a short wait in line. She was soon settled into a chair in front of an empty terminal, logging into her email account. As she expected, there was a response waiting from Susan.

  To: Paige Mackenzie

  From: Susan Shaw

  Re: Jackson Hole Article

  Hi Paige,

  Great to hear from you!

  It sounds like Jackson Hole is as interesting as you expected. Glad you are settling in and starting on research.

  A couple things to think about:

  Try, if you can, to push beyond the regular tourist information, beyond the advertised spotlights of the area. We want to find something different, something unusual. We want to give readers an inside view. See if you can get to know some of the locals and maybe some of the old timers, too. They’ll know things that wouldn’t be readily available through normal research channels.

  Also, if you can do as much historical research as you can, it will cut down on the fact-checking we need to do later on.

  We have a little time on this one, but I’d like to see it ready for print in two weeks. See what you can do and let me know if you have any problems.

  Susan

  Paige clicked on the return icon and quickly typed a short response, aware that others were in line for use of the computers.