“WHERE IS SHE NOW?”
A Murder Mystery
By: R. C. Drake
Copyright November, 2011
“Where Is She Now?”
All rights to this manuscript are reserved. This copy specifically designed for Smashwords. This is an original work by Author R. C. Drake, and may not be copied in any form, without the written permission of the Author. Portions may be used for advertising purposes only. This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to persons either living or dead, places, or events is purely coincidental.
“Where Is She Now”
Synopsis
She was after the man of her dreams, once again. She had conquered more men than seemed possible for one so young. Most of who were never aware they were being pursued with such intent. She was wise beyond her years, and well versed in the art of seduction. A lethal beauty whose outer perfection in dress and style was merely camouflage. A huntress of lonely hearts, who had honed her skills to a razors edge. Extremely well versed in the pursuit of her chosen target. Many intelligent, and of course wealthy males, had succumbed to the wiles of this she-devil.
Her sights were now focused on her next target, and she was moving in at a slow and calculated pace. Her goal would be achieved, for certain, because she never gave up. She was relentless in her efforts and failure was not a word that could be found in her vocabulary. Many men had tried to escape her wiles, but eventually were worn down. No matter what barriers were placed in front of their hearts, and their wallets, in an effort to protect themselves, she knew how to erode them.
Vicki knew exactly how, and when to strike. She was like a poisonous viper, waiting for its prey, calculatingly smart and extremely patient. Skills which had been enhanced through several years of concentrated effort. She knew, eventually her prey would succumb, after all, they always did.
Dedication
I dedicate this book to my adorable, patient husband. He has stood at my right hand through all of my books, inspiring me to forge onward. One of my characters in this particular novel is loosely based on my husband, a real life ‘character.’
His wit and sarcasm, has saved my sanity on more than one occasion. He is loved far more than he will ever know, and since I am sure he will never read this book I can be openly honest with my readers. I truly adore that man.
R. C. Drake
CHAPTER ONE
“Prominent local business owner, found dead at his private residence.”
That was to be the headline plastered across Friday morning’s newspaper, issue # seventy seven, on December 20, 2010. Everyone was shocked at the seemingly unexpected demise of one of the area’s most prominent local business men.
“Dirt…..I need dirt. This just doesn‘t grab me, and I need to be grabbed by a headline. That’s what makes me want to spend my money and buy the newspaper in the first place. I mean come on; after all, old man Wilkinson was seventy six years old. Seriously, how long did they expect the old guy to go on anyway?”
“Another thing, what’s up with our stupid coroner? Every single time someone dies at home, he sings foul play then insists on performing an infernal autopsy. Why not just put the old man in the ground and be done with it? He is dead! Slicing him from limb to limb won’t bring him back to life.”
Pete finally finished his tirade and stepped away from in front of my desk.
“Thank goodness!” I muttered under my breath, I had about all of his ranting I could handle for one morning.
Peter Lawton, Pete as we all called him, our editor and chief, had a voice that could traverse the entire building and still rattle the walls next door. Hearing his bellowing voice first thing in the morning always made you want to run in the opposite direction kicking and screaming. Of course my desk was the closest to his office, right next to it in fact, and where he seemed to always pause for his anger frenzy. I had absolutely the worst spot in the entire building and there was nothing I could do to change that, being the new girl on the block, so to speak. I had been there for almost three years, but was still the lowest person on the totem pole.
“Too much ado over a dead man, if you ask me,” Pete continued ranting in his overly loud and piercing voice.
He loved gore; it was his favorite front page news. We usually had plenty of that every day, but an old man dying in his bed, just didn’t excite Pete. He would just as soon have skipped that news flash altogether. He wasn’t a very affectionate person anyway, so the fact that someone had lost a loved one just didn’t matter to Pete, at all.
It bothered me though, immensely. Mr. Burton Wilkinson was someone’s father, husband, friend, and now he was gone. I was really beginning to hate my job. Pete never made anything easy around the office, not for anyone. He even managed to get on Jon‘s nerves, and Jon was a rock. Pete had a way about him though; he was completely obnoxious to the core, and relished in it.
He owned the newspaper where I worked, and the building as well. He had been born into money so he didn’t care whose feelings he hurt, or how much he upset the apple cart. Pete loved DIRT. Any kind of garbage that was bloody, crazy or even at times bordered on the edge of being a lie. Anything that would make a normal person hold their breath, and quietly say, ‘oh no, not that,’ was Pete’s bread and butter. Yep, that was our Pete in a nutshell, all gore and insanity. He literally thrived on it. I, on the other hand, was ready for a complete makeover, job wise anyway.
I had been in Copiague, New York for almost three years now. Plenty long enough for me to know it was not my bag. I was tired of all the hustle and bustle, but even more so of my job. I was so ready to get out of this place. I looked over at Jon and he gave me his usual sideways smile and half lifted his right shoulder, like he always did. It was his way of saying, ‘oh well, what can we do about it?’
Well Sandy old girl, ‘what are you going to do about it?’
Complain! That was what I was going to do, just complain, like I always did. Then afterwards do nothing at all, just grumble some more.
‘NO!’….my inner voice screamed. ‘It is time to do something about this mess you and your mother are in. It is time to get hold of your life and make a change.’ That voice was right, a change was way overdue.
At that instant, as I stood smiling back at Jon, I made a life changing decision. I knew it was now or never, and I was going to suffocate if I didn’t make a move. I was even more certain that if I didn’t make the right move and soon, my mother was going to die in this place.
Jon was probably my best friend in the entire world. He had gotten this job for me and literally saved my life. A change was inevitable though, and I knew it, because things weren’t getting better as I had hoped, they were getting worse. It was time for me to get my mother away from this place, before it killed her.
I wasn’t stupid. I knew what was going on. When my mother had brought us to New York in the first place I had just graduated from high school, so I was excited about moving to the big city. She had a grandiose idea in her head about making it big in New York. The way she had explained it to me, made perfect sense, at the time.
She sold, or traded virtually everything we owned in the world to get money for gas to get us out here. We had thrown together a few meager suitcases of our cloths, and out we set for what was to be, ‘an adventure.’
The fact was, yet another ‘user of women,’ had entered into my mothers life from seemingly out of nowhere. She had been duped by yet another sweet talking man. After years of abuse from my father, she still hadn’t learned how to protect herself from that sort of charisma.
Mom had worked as a waitress at our local diner since my father had disappeared from her life, right after I was born. Eighteen years at a dead end job had finally caught up with her. The day Mr. Charisma, waltzed into her life, she was at a particularly low point. He filled her head with all the grand ideas he had for her and, ‘your little one too,’ I remembered hearing him say. It was only a few weeks until time for me to graduate from high school and the prospect of going to the city sounded awesome to me, but I was young and easily impressed.
My mother, on the other hand was just down right gullible, especially when it came to a man. She could never see past the smile, sweet talk and handsome good looks.
He had convinced her that she could make it big in the city.
He had told her, “With your good looks and fine body, I can have you working and making some real money in no time at all. No more token coins for you Baby, just you wait and see.”
He laid several bills on the table as he finished his flowing speech, adding a little more emphasis to his words.
“I can open doors for you in places that you have only dreamed of.” I recall very well, hearing those words slide across his slick tongue, like melted butter.
She believed every slimy word that slithered out of his mouth too, and couldn’t wait to trail him to the address he had given her.
We arrived with little more than a pair of suitcases and a few coins in our pockets. He immediately convinced her to sell our car, he told her, “You won‘t need that ragged thing Baby, you only travel in style from now on.”
He said he would see to it that she had a chauffeur to take her anywhere she needed to go. She would only ride in style and comfort from that day forward. So of course she gave him her keys.
I remember that first night, the hotel we stayed in wasn’t half bad, but almost immediately upon waking the next morning we were ushered to a different, not so elegant one. After that things deteriorated rather quickly.
My mother was used like a prostitute, over and over and drugged until she was senseless. I had to fight several male caller’s off myself, until finally one night I had enough.
That night I recall with much disdain. I had just fought off yet another one of my mother’s late night, ‘visitors.’ I was sick of having to defend myself from pawing filthy hands touching me all over. I totally lost it and flew out of hotel room like I had wings on my feet. I had no idea where I was barreling off to, or what I was going to do. I had only the clothes on my back and my purse in hand. I had managed to stash a couple hundred dollars away, that I had stolen from some of the rich guys that came in and out of my mothers life like air, but I knew in New York that wasn’t going to last very long. I was running almost blindly, and didn’t see Jon when I went barreling into him. He was taking pictures of a broken fire hydrant that some fancy black car had just skidded in to on the slippery road, when I hit him so hard I knocked the camera out of his hand, We both went down, but I went sailing across the wet surface. He was trying desperately to keep his camera dry and I was a bit dazed. I was just trying to stand up so I could get out of the spray. I was drenched within seconds from head to toe. He had managed to avoid the spray from the fire hydrant and had only gotten partially wet. I tried to stand but the road was so slippery I fell flat on my butt. He tried to help me, which resulted in my almost pulling him down with me. When he reached to help me a second time, I waved his hand away, shaking my head at him, while screaming at the same time, ‘Just go away and leave me alone.
I then started to cry while still sitting in the middle of the road, with my hair wringing wet, my cloths soaked, and thinking that my world had just crashed and was now burning up all around me.
Jon had gone to retrieve his camera, and while trying to keep it dry, reached for me one last time. He was determined this time as he shouted back at me over the din, “Take my hand so I can get you out of there.”
I don’t know why but I reached for his hand on his last attempt. After he steadied me so I could get my footing, he helped me walk out of the street to the dry sidewalk. He took his jacket off, it was still somewhat dry and draped it across my shoulders. He smiled down at me with the sweetest little crooked smile, I couldn’t help but smile back at him. I vaguely remember saying timidly, “thanks for your help.”
He coaxed me to a little cafe nearby, and though the waitress looked at me like I was dirt, Jon convinced her to allow me in. I think he handed her some money so she would keep her mouth shut. We sat down at one of the little corner booths. A few people looked our way but quickly passed us off as insignificant and the chatter in the cafe soon resumed.
Jon smiled at me once again and asked, “What’s your name kid?”
“Sandy,” I heard myself saying with a rather shaky voice.
“Well what’s your story?” he asked.
A chill ran through me as my entire body shook. I was soaked and the cafe was quite cool. Jon signaled for the waitress to come over to our table. He then asked me if I liked coffee, I nodded yes, so as soon as the waitress arrived he ordered.
“We’ll take two cups of New York’s finest,” he said, still smiling.
Then he asked me where I lived.
“I don’t live anywhere,” I said rather tritely, “I’m homeless.”
It was true, but hearing the words come out of my mouth sounded rather forlorn, and quite pathetic.
He smiled again and turned his head a little sideways, “How old are you kid?” he asked.
“I’m almost twenty-one, and I’m not a kid.” I snapped back at him, rather quickly, but my voice sounded much weaker than before and contained an element of uncertainty. My fortitude was wavering and I was beginning to feel my destitute situation was not going unnoticed by my rescuer.
I guess that’s why he asked me, in a questioning tone, “Are you sure?”
I wasn’t sure of anything, but I did know how old I was. I fired up a bit and spouted back, “Why yes, I know how old I am.”
I began to fumble in my purse for my drivers license, so I could prove my age, I was proud of that on small accomplishment, even though I had no car, at least I had a driver’s license. I flashed it at Jon so he could have a look, but then he grabbed it from me with lightning speed.
“Let’s see...green eyes,” as he stared unwavering into my eyes. ‘Check.’
“Let’s see, what’s this? Crestview, Colorado? My goodness you’re a long way from home, aren’t you?”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to share any more of my personal information with this stranger, so I yanked my drivers license away from him and quickly stuffed it back into my purse. He gave a little start as I nabbed it from him, but that crooked little smile never left his face.
“No need to be so snappy Sandy Wilson from Crestview, Colorado age 20. I was just checking to make sure you didn’t have amnesia or something. I mean you did say you were homeless. Is that really true?”
The waitress brought our coffee, and I hurriedly covered my cup with both hand. It felt wonderful between my icy fingers, giving my chilled body some relief. As I continued to hold onto it tightly taking small sips every now and then, it felt good going down, and I began to warm up a bit.
I sat the cup down on the table, and shuffled my feet underneath me a little closer.
Jon patiently waited for my response so I repeated what I had said to him earlier, “Yes, I’m homeless,” I said in a soft voice. “I have no place to stay.” For some reason I felt safe in being honest with this man, that I barely knew.
“Why are you homeless, not able to meet your rent?”
That sounded like a better reason than the real one, so I went with it.
“Yes, I lost my job a few weeks back and my landlord isn’t very understanding, so he kicked me out.”
“Um hum,” was the only thing he said. I don’t think he believed me, not for a minute, but he allowed me a moment of dignity. I was thankful for that, since I hadn’t had any for a long time, and I really needed my confidence restored.
“Well kid, I got to be getting back to the newspaper office,” he said, as he threw a ten dollar bill on the table. He saw me eyeing the money as he stood up, he didn‘t miss much that was evident. He hesitated before he turned as if debating with himself what he should do next.
“You don’t have any luggage and probably no money, right? So little wet duckling where do you plan on staying tonight?”
I was more than a little embarrassed, he was putting it all together and my plight, it seemed, had no good ending.
“Come on,” he said, “We have to get you dried off before you catch your death of cold, it is probably around twenty degrees out there and the temperature is dropping fast.”
I stood up and he pulled his coat around me a little tighter. Then as we headed for the door I heard him saying he only lived a couple of blocks away, and asked me if I thought I could make it that far. I was freezing, but I wasn’t about to appear weak and vulnerable, even though I was.
“No I’m fine, you lead and I’ll follow.” I said, even though I sounded rather pathetic even to my own ears. I thought I had mustered up my most assertive tone but it sounded rather weak.
“I just have to call in to the paper office and let them know I’m not coming in tonight.”
As he made his phone call, I trailed him out the door. I felt myself physically shiver. It was getting colder outside now by the second. I was beginning to have second thoughts about walking two blocks.
He just shook his head then strode off, I followed. Every step felt like it was going to be my last one, thankfully he took control of the situation or I may have turned into an icicle. After only about a half a block, Jon stopped at a little shop and opened the door signifying that I should enter. It was the cutest little thrift shop, overran with merchandise from ceiling to floor. He bought me a warm outfit and some dry shoes as well as a nice warm coat. I could feel my arms and legs again as the blood began to circulate once more. After Jon paid the clerk, he headed toward the door and held it open for me to follow.
We arrived at his apartment and after settling me in a bit and showing me around, Jon offered his bathroom, for me to take a nice hot shower. He said he was going to fix us a bite to eat.
I cleaned up and then we ate. Jon had fixed us a wonderful meal of spaghetti, garlic bread, and a nice salad. Within minutes I was sleepy. He gave up his bedroom for me, he said since there was only one bedroom.
I was so exhausted, I slept for a solid twenty hours. I guess I needed that rest for my body to recuperate and have time to heal. When I finally woke I could smell coffee, and boy did it smell delicious. We drank a cup together that Saturday morning, and he told me since he didn’t have to report to work, he was taking me shopping for a few more cloths.
“You can’t make it in this town without a job, and you need something nice to wear. My boss is looking for a bright petty new secretary, again, and he needs someone with gumption. I think you just might be able to handle that. You handled my questioning pretty good, even though I didn’t believe a word you said about how you lost your apartment.”
He gave me a sideways glance and I was hard pressed not to flinch. I knew I had been routed out, so now the question was, how was I going to handle this? I feared being out in the street, but I knew this man was not going for any more half-truth’s, so I quickly decided my best course of action was to come clean.
“I was telling you the truth, I am homeless, but not because I lost my job. That hotel up the street is where I have been staying for the last few weeks with my mom. She is still there, but I just couldn’t stay there anymore.”
Jon raised his eyebrows and gave me another querying look, so I forged onward.
‘My mom brought us here hoping to make something of herself because of that man, Robbie. He stuck us in that hotel room and then all these men in fancy suits started showing up. I didn’t like what was going on, so I left.”
Jon took another sip of his coffee then calmly asked, “Does Robbie have a last name?”
I thought about that, but realized I didn’t know his last name. Mom had only called him by his first name, and come to think of it I wasn’t even sure that was his real name.
I hesitated before answering. I was embarrassed to admit how stupid my plight sounded. Even to my ears, what we had done sounded like an improbability. I forged on with my feeble explanation of how I had come to be here. “My mother is a little gullible, and very pretty, but she allowed men to use her.
It sounded awful when I actually spoke the words aloud, but it was true, my mom was an easy target for a smooth talking man. She always had been. All a guy had to do was throw some money around buying her a few trinkets, compliment her a bit and, viola, she would take the bait.
Jon Rebalski wasn’t where he was at from lack of hard knocks. He knew all about the abuse factor, he had been there himself, on more than once occasion. But if you go to the school of hard knocks long enough, you learn a few tricks, and he had learned many things in his twenty-eight years. Being on your own made you wise up pretty quickly. You wised up or you died, that was the only two choices in the real world.
“So you mother is still in that hotel down the street?” He said it more like an emphatic statement than a question.
“Yes, and I don’t know what to do to change things. Honestly I don’t have any money and as you have already figured out, no place to stay. I really just want to go home.”
Jon could tell I was at my wits ends and needed guidance.
“We need to get you some clothes, then we will check on your mom. I made waffles, are you hungry?
After we ate and I bathed Jon took me to a local cloths shop and picked up a couple of outfits. He made me try on everything. He either approved or disproved each outfit after careful scrutiny. He knew what would pass his bosses inspection so I deferred to his approval on everything. After paying for my cloths, I dress in one of the outfits then we headed for my mom’s hotel. I was not excited to see what I would find there. I prayed she was alone. It was embarrassing enough explaining all that had transpired, without having to walk in on it face to face.
Thankfully when I opened the door to the hotel room, she was alone. The room was trashed and she was still out of it, but when I opened the drapes she moaned so I knew she was alive. We dressed her and Jon told me to gather together our things, he was taking her to his apartment. I grabbed the few personal items in the room that belonged to us and quietly led her into the hallway. Jon wrote a note and left it on the nightstand. I have no clue what he wrote on it and frankly didn’t care, I was just glad to be vacating that place.
We settled my Mom into Jon’s bed back at his apartment, because she was still not completely coherent. Then he went out for food.
I was still exhausted from the events that had transpired, and cuddled in Jon’s big easy chair all nice and warm, and slowly drifted off to sleep. I think spending my nights with my eyes half open all night; fearful that some hairy man with big hands was going to rape me had finally caught up with me.
I don’t know what Jon told Robbie, in that note he wrote, but thankfully I never heard from him again after that day.
The ordeal had already taken a toll on my mother though. She was so strung out, that cleaning her up was going to take a doctor’s intervention. Jon helped with that too, but my mother failed to respond to any of our efforts to help her. She would later give into her weakness once again.
Hearing Pete still ranting in his office brought me back full circle. I had landed the job at the paper office, with Jon’s help, and he and I had become very good friends. He had also helped me find an apartment nearby for me and my mom, but things just never smoothed back down for my mother after that. I knew I had to get her out of the city or she was going to die.
Several months later, I lost my mother when she lost her battle with drugs. Things unfolded rather oddly for me that day.
When I arrived back at my apartment that afternoon, Jon was already there, waiting for me out front. I knew the second I saw his face, something was very wrong. He hugged me close as I began to cry. We held each other tightly for several minutes. I blamed myself for not getting her out in time. I felt if I had only removed her from the bad elements surrounding her, I could have saved her life. If only I could have acted quicker, she would now be alive and with me.
Jon, one of the best friends a person could ever ask for, reminded me of something. He said, “She was bent on self destruction Sandy, and even though you tried to help her, and so did I, she just wasn’t ready to be helped. She had given up on herself, and once someone does that, there is nothing you can say or do to change that.”
He was right, and I knew it, but somehow hearing him say the words out loud helped me to cope better. This very difficult situation became somewhat more bearable.
Once again Pete’s booming voice rattled the windows of his office so hard I felt the vibration all the way to my desk.
I so desperately needed a change of scenery. It was time for me to get back to my roots. After all I was a county girl at heart, and I missed those snow capped Colorado mountains so much. I needed the smell of fresh mountain breezes back in my nostrils again. I needed to feel alive again.
CHAPTER 2
I had to bury my mother, the most difficult heartbreak a child should ever have to face. It took a toll on me too. For several weeks afterwards I felt as though I was half alive.
When I finally began to return to the human race I knew what I had to do. The mountains of my childhood were calling me, and I had to answer.
I hated to leave Jon without so much as a goodbye, but I knew he would try to talk me out of going. I couldn’t pull this off by myself though, and I knew it.
I needed a car and I didn’t have one. I did have a very good friend, Penny Malone, who owned a car and was willing to help me out. We were old high school buddies that had stayed in touch via Facebook. She knew about my situation and agreed that it had to change and encouraged me to do whatever it took to make it happen.
Penny and I hadn’t actually seen each other since graduation night, but keeping in touch was a simple process with a computer. I decided to give her a call so we could brainstorm. It was time to make my move.
Penny was living in Springfield Illinois, now which was not a small hop skip and jump away. I knew I could depend on her though, because she had told me so on many occasions. I decided to make the call, to ask for the favor of a lifetime.
I had been stashing away every bit of spare cash I could rake and scrape since I had gone to work at the newspaper office. I was hoping for the day when I could put together enough to get me and my mother out of the city and back home. Even though I had planned this trip as an escape for my mom and myself, I was still taking her ashes with me. I had her cremated because I couldn’t afford a burial plot. Jon had helped me pay for the cremation and I was planning on taking her ashes home to Colorado. I knew she would understand and forgive me when I let her ashes go back on home soil.
I called Penny at lunch from work that Friday. I didn’t have a phone at my apartment. I felt a phone was just one more expense I could cut out. I was trying to save every dime I could. She and I discussed the plan in detail, making sure she understood no one was to know about what we were going to do, especially not Jon. Penny was to pick me up early Saturday morning and we were going to hit the road and not look back. I was paying for all the gas and the hotel stays, as well as giving her an extra hundred or so for her trouble. She had of course said, ‘no need to give me any money, just pay for the gas, I‘ll think of it as a fun filled vacation, with just us girls.’
I refused to let her do it for free, so she finally agreed she would take the money, she had said she could actually use the extra cash.
I had to work all day Friday, but just as soon as I got home from work I intended to hurriedly pack. I figured I would wait till the last minute so as to not look suspicious.
Pete called Jon into his office around 2:00 that afternoon, for a special assignment, and sent him away rather hurriedly.
When 4:30 rolled around I couldn’t wait to get out the door. I had been so anxiously watching the clock I hadn’t noticed that Jon had not returned from his assignment yet, which was a bit unusual for him. He and I always rode home together on the rail, so I grabbed my purse, clocked out, and decided to wait for him downstairs in the main lobby. I hung out with Burt, our night watchman for several minutes but decided something must have held Jon up, so I walked to the rail station alone. Not seeing Jon there either, I rode home along and after arriving at my stop, walked the few blocks to my apartment and went inside.
He never came by that night and I still hadn‘t heard from him by the next morning. It felt odd just leaving without at least saying goodbye. I didn’t feel right about writing a curt note. Somehow that felt too cold and impersonal.
When I saw Penny drove up outside my apartment window, I grabbed my purse and suitcase and turned to leave. One last look around the tiny little apartment I had shared with my mom. It felt strange knowing I was leaving it for the last time. I softly said, ‘Going back home Mom, where we belong.’ I was carrying her remains in my suitcase. I intended to let her ashes go on one of our local mountains back home. I knew she would like that. Then I quietly closed the door.
Downstairs I turned in my key in to the Landlady and told her I wouldn’t be coming back. I patted my suitcase on the side when I laid it on the back seat of Penny’s car and said, ‘Mom we are going home now.”
I remember whispering the words to myself as I settled down on the passenger seat for our long trip. “If only I had.” Four little words that haunted me; if only I had been with her, if only I had not gone to work that day, if only we had left on this trip sooner.
So many things I wished I had done differently. I felt helpless, empty, and alone. Then Penny spoke to me, “Hey girlfriend ready for an adventure?”
Yes, I was ready for a definite change.
The words of the officer that evening when my mother died came rushing back to me, “I am so sorry Miss Wilson to have to inform you of the demise of your mother. A tragic accident has happened.”
That word, ‘accident’ reverberated through me like a gong being banged right beside my eardrum. I knew that my mothers death was no accident. She had given up on life. I didn’t find out till much later however, that she had not died of an overdose, like I had thought. She had in fact, been shot. It was several weeks after she died when I got the corner’s death certificate, ‘death by gunshot wound to the head, apparent suicide.’ That was very bizarre to me, since we didn’t even own a gun.
CHAPTER 3
Several months had passed since moving back home to Crestview. I had managed to get a job fairly quickly and set myself up in a small apartment. I didn’t miss New York at all, but I sure missed seeing Jon. I really missed seeing my friend, and wondered how he was doing. I hadn’t even called him since moving back home and felt bad about that, but I didn’t really know what to say to him. I had skipped out on him without even a goodbye, and after all that he had done for me, that was inconsiderate, to say the least. I needed to make a point to get in touch with him again, if for nothing else just to let him know I was okay and happy again. In fact I was more than happy. I had started thinking about having a companion in my life. The only problem was the man I had an eye on didn’t even know I existed.
His name was Paydon Blackwell and he lived very near the highest peak of one of our local mountains. A large portion of the people that lived in Crestview, which only numbered about 8,000, all called him, ‘The Mountain Man.’ He had been dubbed with that nickname not so much because he was a recluse, or looked like he hadn’t bathed for a prolonged period of time, …oh no, far from that. He simply lived in the most remote region of the entire area. His closest neighbor lived several miles away from him, and he quite frankly preferred it that way.
Today was his day to come to town. Every week on Saturday without hesitation, Paydon drove into town to run his weekly errands. It was a long trek into town, but one he made routinely. I too had a weekly routine, and was currently exhibiting it, as I stood watching his arrival. He always parked in front of the hardware store which was directly across the street from Higganbotham’s Drugstore, where I worked. As he parked his truck I stood and stared, almost ogling, thinking to myself as I did every time I saw him, ‘what a waste.’ He was such a fine specimen of the male persuasion from head to toe.
After he parked his shiny black truck, he would slowly exit, drawing his full 6’6’ height to an upright stance. Then he would turn back into the cab, grab his coat from the front seat and slip it on. It was one of those natural suede jackets, fully lined with off white luscious looking fleece. You know the kind, plush and inviting. It looked so warm and soft it made you want to snuggle up inside there with him. Next he would reach for his black cowboy hat that he always wore. Today must be haircut day, because his hair was a little longer than he normally wore it. I liked the errant way it escaped his hat just over the tops of his ears, I could tell he really hated that. He had to redo his hat twice just to catch those stray wavy pieces. After his hat was placed oh so perfectly atop his head, and adjusted to exactly the right angle, he gave it that final good luck thump on the brim. Next he would smooth his mustache just a bit, then turn to lock his truck door before heading up the sidewalk.
Yep…, from head to toe, he was a real fine looking man. Not an inch of fat could be seen on him anywhere. He was all sinew and bone.
Then off he would stride with that slow long-legged gate, I adored so much. He was headed straight toward the hardware store. As usual, I felt my lower jaw slide ajar just a bit as I watched his lumbering walk. He always wore nicely creased blue jeans, straight from Barton’s Cleaners. I caught myself once again fixed on him. It never ceased to amaze me, as I watched him walk, how well he carried himself. I watched as he sauntered in his usual fashion up the sidewalk, causing me once again to sigh, as the corners of my mouth upturned into a broad smile.
He always went to the hardware store first, that was his routine, and he never wavered. I knew his routine to a tee, because I always watched him. Nine o’clock on the dot every Saturday morning without fail, hardware store first to pick up lumber, nails, and whatever building supplies he needed before going on to his next stop.
I had been told he was building a mountain retreat on his property high up in the mountains. It started out being a big house on the side of the mountain. However, it had since become so massive that everyone referred to it as a ‘retreat.’ I had personally never seen it, but heard from several of the local townspeople that it was a massively resplendent piece of architecture. A veritable mansion that had literally been carved out of the side of the mountain, with a view like no other. I heard that in the prior winter he had allowed paying guests to stay there, for private skiing trips. It would have been interesting, to say the least, to have been one of those select guests. But, alas, as usual, I had no spare jingle.
Shortly after that, when the mountain roared down its coldest winds was when Paydon had lost his wife. No one had been allowed to stay there after that, except his construction crew, as they heartily worked to complete the project.
I hoped to one day actually lay eyes on it, but I knew the likelihood of that happening was very slim. The only people that I ever saw coming and going up there was his crew, and him of course. He allowed no one else on the property, not since the tragic death of his wife.
As he entered into the hardware store and disappeared from my view, I knew from past experience he would be in there for at least an hour, give or take a few minutes. That was my cue to get back to work doing all of the things I should have already been doing. At least until I knew it was time for him to head to his next point of call. At almost precisely the one hour mark, out he ambled. Striding out the door with such purpose he would now cross the street over to my side, and as he stepped up onto the sidewalk, almost directly in front of me, straighten to his full height. That is when I would come face to face with the most gorgeous green eyes in the entire world. They were like two shiny emeralds, and at that moment they were looking straight at me. Thankfully, he never knew I was staring at him. He was unable to see me through the oversize windows in front of Higginbotham’s, they saved me from that embarrassment. I had tested them out on several different occasions, because believe you me, I wasn’t about to get caught staring at him so blatantly. I knew it was impossible to see through those big tinted windows from the outside, so I felt safe to do my spying. I knew this would be my best opportunity for seeing him up close and personal for the entire week so I soaked it up like a sponge.
He always walked like a man in charge of his own actions, never wavering from his intended destination, never hesitating, and always in the same order.
He would now head to, “Haversham’s Coffee Shop,” our local eatery. The Haversham’s, were known to everyone far and wide as Mr. Pete and Mrs. Mae, and they had been an integral part of Crestview for over sixty years now. They owned and operated their little mom and pops restaurant with all of the love and care one would devote to a baby. I guess in a way it was their baby, since they never had any children of their own, and the restaurant was also their home. They lived in the back part of the building, where they had built a cozy little nest for themselves. As far back as I could remember, they had opened their restaurant doors to the public, including Sundays, from 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. without fail. The mailman had absolutely nothing on this couple. Come rain or shine, in sickness or health, those doors were opened to all hungry travelers.
Paydon loved to eat his breakfast at Haversham’s every Saturday when he come to town. He always had Mrs. Mae’s breakfast special, which consisted of three eggs, soft fried, three sausage patties on the side, always fried crisp so they crunched when he bit into them. And lest we not forget the three big plump biscuits, hand rolled of course the night before by Mrs. Mae’s own hands, so they could rise in the night air and be baked fresh first thing the next morning. Those big fluffy biscuits baking in the oven could be smelled all over town, and they sure made your mouth water. Everyone knew the smell of those wonderful freshly baked treats. No one could match Mrs. Mae’s special recipe for homemade biscuits. It was a trade secret that she shared with absolutely no one, including her own husband. She would add a big heap of white gravy on the top of them if you liked, at no extra cost of course. Paydon always had gravy on the top of his three biscuits; he was a very hearty eater. Lastly he would coax everything down with two heaping cups of coffee, black, he never took any added condiments.
I knew all of these things because Mrs. Mae had told me. She had volunteered the information of course…..well sort of, anyway.
I smiled to myself as I recalled the day I had moseyed into the diner, and plopped down on one of the stools at the bar in the front of the restaurant. That day I had the best of intentions when I idly ordered my coke float. My main objective for being there though, was I intended to pry just enough to find out what Paydon liked to eat. I really don’t know why I felt I needed to know that information. But, it seemed like knowing what his food preferences were, in some strange way, made me feel a little closer to him.
Mrs. Mae gave me a wink when I began my inquiry. And with a chuckle in her voice and a big smile on her face, she said, “Why the great interest Sandy?”
I guess I wasn’t as subtle as I intended to be. When she turned around to make my float, I gave a silent little giggle and a precocious smile at her back. I could tell she knew exactly what was going through my mind without ever having to say a word. Her next words solidified my thoughts completely, I had been found out, for sure.
Yes,” she said, “he is quite a catch, isn’t he?” Then without further hesitation, she began to recite his preferences aloud. Thankfully, I didn’t have to explain myself; she knew exactly what was on my mind. Ms. Mae explained each item she prepared for Paydon’s breakfast with care and precision. Her attention to each facet of what she served him each week, made her sound more like a mother putting a plate of food before her own son, than just the person who cooked his first meal of the day. As I listened to her recite every aspect of his meal, it was obvious she prepared and delivered with such loving care. Much detail went into her food preparations. I wondered for a split second if she was that attentive to all of her customers, or did she like myself, have a soft spot for Paydon.
She was right about the fact that he was quite a catch in my eyes for sure.
Mae Haversham was after all, the best cook in the entire county. She could cook anything and make it mouth watering good. I especially loved to eat her dumplings. They were the best I ever tasted. She made them the way my mama had always made them, when she was alive. Just smelling them cooking on the stove brought back some really fond memories for me.
After enjoying his breakfast, Paydon would head to his next appointed stop, the barber shop, for his monthly trim. His next stop was always the cleaners, ‘Barton’s,’ to pick up his freshly pressed jeans. Then he would head back up the sidewalk toward my direction for his last stop, Kaine’s, our local grocery business. It too was a family owned and operated business, as were most of the businesses in our little town. He would pick up his usual list of staple goods there before heading back home.
I watched him as he headed back toward my direction. I caught myself holding my breath, as I eyed him sauntering in his unique fashion. I finally exhaled, then scolded myself for being so predictable.
“Sandy, get hold of yourself, girl,” when I finally snapped back to reality.
After all, he wasn’t coming into my store. He never came in the drugstore, ever. I sighed to myself, thinking how much I wished that just once; he would change his routine, and come inside, for just a few minutes anyway. I so wanted to get a close up look at him. I had never heard his voice, or smelled his cologne. Just once, I would love to see him up close and personal. At my age crushing on a man I had never met was a rather silly thing to do, but I felt I should be able to fantasize if I wanted to. After all, fantasizing about a real man was way better than reading about one in a book. I had the real thing to drool over.
Each week as he ran his errands I had all of his stops timed, almost perfectly. At least I was able to catch glimpses of him as he went in and out to each of his scheduled stops on his route.
Paydon had made these weekly jaunts every Saturday since he lost his wife, Corine. Her death was a horrible tragedy. Even now, almost a year later, rumors were still running rampant around town. Paydon had been the one that had found her that day.
It was obvious he had loved her very much, and was still unable to accept that she was gone. He didn’t appear to even notice any of the women around him. He was still grieving her death, even though some wagging tongues still insisted he had caused her death. I knew that couldn’t possibly be true, at least I hoped it wasn’t true, it just didn‘t seem possible.
I had to give myself a mental shake when I realized once again, I was standing with my mouth agape while staring at him as he came toward me. I let out a long sigh and I turned away from the window.
I almost barreled directly into my boss, Mr. Higganbotham. He was standing directly in front of me. I had no idea how long he had been standing there. He had his head cocked a bit to one side, with a very questioning look plastered across his face. I realized quickly that he had just said something to me, but for the life of me I didn’t have a clue what it was. I quickly tried to fashion a smile on my face, with absolutely no idea how to respond to him. I cleared my throat, because I felt like I had swallowed my tongue. Then I heard a response coming out of my mouth, almost inaudible, “Yes sir, I will get right on that,” as I walked away, muttering something to myself. Were those my words? They sounded broken and far too stilted to be coming out of my mouth. Once I finally stopped sputtering nonsense I started dusting the shelves and hurriedly got back to work busying myself organizing the merchandise on the shelves in my department. I watched out the corner of my eye, for what Mr. Higganbotham would do next. He was still looking in my direction, shaking his head in an exasperated fashion as he slowly began to walk in the other direction.
“Whew!” I almost got caught. I had to be more careful. I couldn‘t allow that to happen again, it could cost me my job, which I desperately needed.
I continued on with my assigned duties but I absolutely had to take a few more glimpses at Paydon as he sauntered across the street. The smile quickly faded from my face as I gave a little forlorn sigh, because I realized next I would have to watch another routine that played out every week as well. One that I did not enjoy having to witness, but knew without a doubt would play out before me in just a few minutes.
You see, I wasn’t the only one that knew Paydon’s weekly routine. Mrs. Victoria Harris, or as I had come to think of her, ‘Little Miss V,” would now make her timely weekly arrival. This was a ritual she followed each week without fail, also. Vicki always made her weekly grocery store trips on Saturday, coincidentally on the same day, at the same time as Paydon. Everyone knew that she couldn’t cook a lick, so there was no need at all for her to go to the grocery store in the first place.
I found it so obvious the way she literally threw herself at Paydon every week. It was not a coincidence, at least not to me, that her appearances and her timely mishaps always seemed to coincide precisely with his scheduled weekly trips to town. I knew this because I watched her put on her little display so sickeningly, every week. At first, I have to admit, it did seem that her accidents were simply that, accident’s. However, the longer this scene played out before me the more obvious it became that these occurrences were not accidents at all, but very well calculated meetings, planned and executed by her. Every week some sort of terrible mishap would befall Vicki, until one almost felt sorry for her, but not me. I knew exactly what she was up to. Too many of these, ‘accidental occurrences’ happened to her, and always so opportunely. Far to opportunely for my way of thinking, especially when Paydon was the only male around that could possibly lend assistance. Coincidence? I think not.
As time rolled on, these mysterious incidences became more and more unswerving, with Paydon always on the receiving end. I had figured out that there seemed to be a pattern to her scheming, so therefore an ultimate plan was unfolding right before my very eyes. Again this week true to form, just as Paydon was in the middle of the street attempting to cross over to the other side to make his last stop of the day, here she came. Her bright candy apple red Mercedes that she always drove was unmistakable. She sped into the spot in front of the hardware store directly beside Paydon’s truck, which was conveniently open. I could hardly wait to see what dramatic play would be preformed before me this week.
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(Pages 1-27 show above.)