The Unmothered
Brenda McCreight, PhD
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2010 Brenda McCreight
Discover other titles by Brenda McCreight at Smashwords.com
Good Enough: A Shay James Mystery
Cleah: The Lost Fury Chronicles The Otherworld
Family Matters: How To Strengthen Your Family (Without Paying for Therapy or Changing Your Lives)
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Prologue
There are those among us who find a place in time and claim it as their own. They live in sweet oblivion to the passing of years, and only the stare of strangers gives them the occasional pause to wonder if something is amiss. Willow Martin, stuck firmly in the 1970’s, was one such person.
Willow’s once copper colored hair had long since turned grey, yet she refused to admit to the changes in her body anymore than she conceded to the changing of the times. She still wore her hair long and flowing, with shiny little plastic beads braided into the thinning strands. Anyone watching Willow as she sat in her house, hard at work on her newest piece of stained glass, would immediately notice the veined hands and the wrinkles around the eyes that presented so harsh a contrast to the fresh faced young hippie she had been when she first came to the mountain, almost forty years ago.
Her skill with stained glass, acquired in one memorable year in San Francisco, had sustained Willow for most of her adult life. She made enough money selling the pieces at craft fairs and in the local tourist stores that she was able to keep a good supply of dope as well as pay the taxes on her isolated mountain cabin. When money ran short, usually around mid-winter, she could count on welfare and, until last year when the early stages of arthritis hit, Willow had always managed to get hired for tree planting in the summer and that gave her enough money to keep the van on the road. As long as the snow was fresh and could grip the tires, her rusty old Volkswagen, with its faded peace signs and cracked windows, could still travel the logging roads that provided a route down the mountain. She knew the van did not have many trips left in it, and Willow was uncomfortably aware that she was soon going to be without transportation.
Willow did not really have any other financial needs; she did quite well by her standards. Yet, with the creeping of age had come the harsh onset of loneliness. Now in January, when the snow was heavy, it would be weeks between her treks out to the village. No fresh faced young hikers would drop in and provide company for long, dark evenings. Still, Willow tried to keep busy, glad that she had the stained glass to absorb her attention. Her concentration centered on the glass, Willow hummed along with the music which was turned loud to shut out the emptiness of the house. The kettle Willow had filled earlier began to make boiling noises on the wood and coal stove behind her. She picked up the soldering iron and went back to her work, concentrating on the lead bead so that she could finish one small section before she stopped to make some tea.
Willow felt an unexpected chill breeze on her back. The direction of the fumes from the burning lead flux suddenly changed and blew directly into her eyes, causing them to fill with tears. She quickly put her fists to her eyes and dropped the soldering iron that landed on the table, shattering the delicate glass. Without warning, Willow felt her head yanked back and down.
"Don't move old lady or you might get hurt," said a soft voice.
Willow squinted up at the face. The fumes from the flux still made her eyes to smart and tear. "I can't see. Who are you? What are you doing?" Willow demanded, the agitation competing with the fear in her voice. "Let go of me!" She tried to turn and reach up to grab at the hands that had such a tight grip on her hair. Immediately, she felt something sharp cut through her fingers and she yanked them back to her chest as the pain ripped up through the nerves in her arms.
"What are you doing?" she cried.
I'm killing you, Willow." With that, the same knife that had cut the old woman’s fingers made a jagged slash across one side of her neck, cutting through first her left, then her right, carotid arteries. She’d had no time to resist, no time to make a sound of protest. The hand released her hair and the top half of Willow's body fell forward onto the table, the broken chips of colored glass glinting through the beaded strands of hair.
The intruder lifted Willow's head off the table just far enough to be sure that she was dead, and then let her head drop back into the blood pooling on the glass. The killer turned around to the sound of the boiling kettle and, moving it off the heat and tidily to the side, slipped quietly out the door.
Chapter 1
Eden Sheridan stared at the small red light on the answering machine. She had been sitting at her office desk on the third floor of the Westwood Inn for fifteen minutes, replaying the phone message over and over again. She listened intently, trying to decipher her daughter’s mood from the tone of her voice. Eden knew in her heart that it was a futile process. The two of them would end up in some kind of conflict regardless of Jubilee’s mood. I should have breastfed. We would get along today if I had breastfed her, Eden thought. She wondered briefly if other parents had difficult relationships with their adult children. Eden didn’t have enough friends with adult kids to ask, and even if she did, she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to hear their answers.
Eden put her head in her hands and ran her fingers through her thick, shoulder length hair, massaging her scalp through the layers of sandy colored waves and curls. As a child she hated her unruly hair, but as an adult she learned to love its abundance, and last year, when she turned forty-three, Eden began to appreciate its apparent resistance to the graying process.
“Oh well, here goes,” she muttered, “nothing ventured, nothing lost.” She reached out to the phone and hit the speed dial for her daughter's number. Eden listened to the ringing of the phone, hoping Jubilee would answer and yet afraid of again confronting the emptiness of their relationship.
"Hello?"
Eden's heart leapt as she heard that wonderful, familiar voice. For a moment she allowed herself a sense of hope. "Hello Jubilee, it's me, Mom." She fumbled for the magic words that would keep the arguments at bay. "So, how are you?"
"I'm fine. You don't have to tell me who you are when you call. I know my own mother's voice.” Lee’s voice crackled with irritation. “Besides, everyone else respects my name change. You’re the only person who still calls me Jubilee."
The hope fluttered and fell like a dry autumn leaf. "I'm sorry. I'm doing better with it most of the time." Taking a deep breath Eden tried to keep her voice cheerful. Her impulse was to snap back but she was afraid of ruining the rest of the conversation. I am such a wimp. Dear God, please don’t let me start whining. "Anyway, I'm returning your call. So, what’s up sweetie pie?" There, that was better. It was safer to use a pet name from childhood than the wrong name in adulthood.
"I just wanted to let you know that I'm applying for a summer internship with a company in Vancouver, so I'm not going to be coming home this year. You'll have to hire someone else to work at the front desk when tourist season starts."
"You're going to spend the summer in Vancouver? Is this a good opportunity for you?" Cheerful and friendly, she was on the right track. Maybe it was okay that she didn’t breastfeed.
"Yeah, it's a really good position with a top rated firm. They do extensive product marketing in the East and even in Viet Nam, so I'd get some really good experience with the Asian market. They don't take first year graduate students very often, but I've got good references from my profs so I'm pretty hopeful. "
"You're interested in the Asian market?" Eden replied, searching her mind to find some point of reference. She frowned into the sparsely furnished, utilitarian office. Eden felt frustrated by how little she knew of the world beyond the mountains or beyond the business of running the Inn. She didn’t have time for television at the Inn, and she rarely read anything other than the local weekly newspapers when she scanned through them for upcoming local events that she could add to the Inn’s web site to entice more tourists. She used her computer daily and was thrilled with her internet marketing, but as far as Eden was concerned, anything that didn’t relate directly to the Inn wasn’t worth looking at.
"Yes, that's where it’s all happening now,” Lee sounded animated, excited. “The global economic crisis has really sent the Asian market bouncing so it’s an ideal time for a student to get involved. This should really open some doors for me."
Eden was struck by the lightening speed march of time. It seemed like only yesterday that Lee had been struggling with basic algebra, begging Eden to let her quit school and spend her life as a housekeeper at the Inn. And now the same girl was talking knowledgably about the global economy.
"Is Asia far enough away, Lee?" Eden grimaced as she heard the words tripping out from her mouth before she could stop them.
"Great, Mom. I knew you couldn't manage to be happy for me. I'm looking at a really good future, you know. I'm going to do things with my life. I'm going to go more than twenty miles from Kootenay Lake."
"I know, I know," said Eden, cutting through her daughter's irritation, "you’re going to do more than me, and I am happy for you, Lee, it's what I always wanted for you. But I get to miss you. Mothers miss their daughters when they grow up. It's part of the contract." She heard herself whining again and she bit her lip in a futile attempt to curb herself.
"So are support and encouragement," Lee responded icily, "but you seem to conveniently leave those out. Anyway, I have to go. I have a class to get to. I'll let you know what's happening as soon as I hear. Oh” Lee added, “can you get my hiking equipment and send it to me? I left up at Willow’s last summer and I don’t know what’s going to happen to her place since her murder. I’d like my wet suit too. I think I left it in the back closet of my cabin.”
Eden leapt gratefully to this safe conversational ground. “I can get the wet suit and I guess I can get the rest of the stuff. I’ll have to contact the police because I’m not sure what they did with her stuff. Someone told me that most of it’s still on her property till they find a relative or something. But I’ll check into it and get it off to you.” It was always better when Eden had something concrete to do, instead of having to talk. She’d accepted that about herself years ago and had built her life around action, not words.
“Thanks, Mom,” said Lee, her voice was kinder. “I really have to go. I’ll call to let you know when the stuff arrives. Bye."
Eden slowly put down the receiver and pushed herself away from the desk. She was embarrassed by her inability to get through a simple conversation with her own child. But more importantly, she felt the sadness of their conflicted relationship spread out from her heart and insinuate itself through her body, squeezing and threatening to choke her. She stood up and walked over to the large windows overlooking the lake, seeking the familiar comfort she found in the sight.
Eden never tired of looking at Kootenay Lake and the mountains that surrounded both the water and, it seemed, her life. She had been born in a small town at the other end of the two hundred mile long lake, and had spent all of her life living in the communities that populated its shores, trying to find a way to leave, and all the while finding herself trapped there by one thing after another. Still, her sense of entrapment did not distract from her appreciation of the ever changing colors and moods created by the tightly layered combination of lake, mountain, and sky. Today everything looked gray and the sky was covered over by darkened clouds readying themselves for an early spring storm. The lake was choppy though there was little wind and it reflected the darkness of the moving sky so that it gave the illusion of pulling every shade deep into its own darkness.
Eden’s habit of finding comfort from the mountains had begun in the confusion and loneliness of her childhood. Her family had often lived within sight of some of the old mine shafts that dotted the area and still opened onto the highway. When she was little, Eden had believed her older sister’s stories about fairies and magical beings sleeping in the mine shafts by day and running at night through the hills and valleys of the mountains that cradled them. Eden had been certain that if she could just find the right way to ask, the Spirit of the Mountains might take her in and protect her from all the bad things that were happening. She had long since given up expecting help from the mountains, yet she still talked to them and found in them to be a constant source of comfort.
“Eden?” Eden started and turned to see the tall, slight figure of Lisa standing half-way in the doorway. Lisa had been working at the Inn for the two years since Lee left. She was a moody young woman with a tendency to sulk when things went wrong, but she had proven herself to be dependable and capable of so many different tasks that Eden asked her to stay on through the winter months. Last year she had let Lisa move into the cabin vacated by Lee. Lisa could paint a wall, plant a garden, or work the front desk without hesitation, but she had a disconcerting tendency of appearing from nowhere. Even when she was fully in the room, Eden always felt that the young woman’s presence was more like that of an apparition than a living being. Her hair was not quite blonde and not quite brown, her eyes were somewhere between blue and gray, and her skin was so white it was almost translucent. Lisa had the look of someone that nature had pasted together out of unfinished leftovers.
“I wish you wouldn’t sneak up on me like that,” Eden said briskly, trying to ignore the slight sense of revulsion she always felt around Lisa. “I don’t know how you always manage to be so quiet.”
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t sneaking. I guess I don’t make much noise,” said Lisa, still not moving any further into the room. She looked ready to either pounce or run, and Eden felt she had to keep quiet herself in order not to spook the young woman. “I wanted to know if you were going to get someone from the village to hang the new shelves in the pantry or if I should ask Josh to do it. He’s got a hangover but he’s sober, and he says he’s feeling kind of bored today.”
Josh was one of the older loggers who lived in the chalets during the winter months, exchanging labor for a reduced rent during the winter lay-offs. Twenty years ago, men like him had been able to find off-season work in the mines or the mills that dotted the sides of the lake. Nowadays the mines were shut down, and there were no longer enough mills left in the area to provide year round employment even for the young loggers who could tolerate working outside in the winter’s cold.
~~~
In the early days of Eden’s ownership of the Inn she had rented the dilapidated cabins to some of the loggers, partly for the money, but mainly because having someone living in them during the cold months meant the pipes were less likely to freeze and burst and force her to pay for plumbers and carpenters. After the first winter, it occurred to her that she would do better to exchange work for reduced rent, and over the last fifteen years, the labor of the loggers had converted the shacks into small but charming chalets that drew the summer tourist trade. And, if the rumor was true that unidentified business interests were looking at building a ski resort somewhere in the area, she would get enough winter trade for the Inn to remain open year round and the chalets would be real money makers. And men like Josh, Hayden and the others would find themselves pushed further out of the community that their great-grandparents had helped to build.
“Yes. Ask him to do the shelves, but I’d like you to go into Kaslo and buy the lumber on my account at Mr. Tanaka’s building supply. I don’t want him to scrounge up wood that won’t pass a health and safety inspection. You can take my truck.” Eden fumbled with her key ring, trying to remove the truck key from the metal loop that held the whole set. “I can’t get the ring open,” she said impatiently. Eden was hesitant to give Lisa the entire set, but the young woman had proven her honesty on more than one occasion. Patience had never been Eden’s long suit and the key ring’s refusal to open made Eden’s decision for her, “Take the whole set, just don’t keep them any longer than you have to.” She tossed her key ring to Lisa and then paused, “Lisa, do you know what an Asian market is?”
“I don’t know,” Lisa replied, still standing only partway in the doorway. She stared at the floor for a moment and then looked back at Eden. “Well maybe I know,” Lisa’s looked excited, like a small child proudly answering a teacher. “When my mom and I lived in Vancouver and Seattle, there were parts of the cities that had lots of Chinese and Vietnamese and Japanese people. They always had markets that sold funny looking vegetables. Is that what you mean?”
Lisa was at least thirty, but her childlike view of the world was a constant source of amazement to Eden. “No,” Eden said slowly, “I don’t think so, but the reason I asked is that I really don’t know anything about them myself. We ought to get better at remembering there’s a world outside the mountains, eh. Maybe if the market here is so hot, I should look into some advertising there.” Eden smiled and grabbed her sweater from the back of her chair. “Come on,” she said, “let’s go find Josh and get him started. I need that pantry finished before I start the final round of interviews for the chef position.”
Eden took a last glance at the mountains and then headed out the door behind Lisa. She knew the sadness left over from her short conversation with Lee would be with her for a while yet, but this was nothing new, and the rest of the day pulled at her attention.
~~~
Lisa watched Josh bolt the last of the shelves to the wall and then hurried him out of the kitchen. She didn’t like it when the men stayed in her area for too long. If she let them, they would sit in there all day drinking coffee and eating the freshly baked muffins that were made for paying guests. It wasn’t that they were rude to her; at least most of the time they weren’t. In fact, they tended to ignore her, as did most people. The problem Lisa had with them was that they were so loud. She could feel their voices fill the room till there was no space left for her. They talked and laughed and joked with each other, never leaving a space for the silence that Lisa craved.
Just as Lisa had expected, it took Josh almost the entire day to finish the job. It should have only been an hour or two, but he had to keep stopping to have a beer, and then to go to the bathroom, then to have a cigarette. Lisa grudgingly made him a sandwich for lunch which he managed to take 45 minutes to eat. When he finally got back to the task, Josh kept working slowly, finishing about four o’clock. With Josh finally gone, Lisa could do the last of the tidying and get to her cabin. There was little to do. The last of the guests had checked out the day before so she had only herself and Eden to stock and prepare food for. It would be at least a month before any new guests arrived and the new chef that Eden was hiring would start working.
Lee finished cleaning up the tail ends of the sawdust in the pantry and looked around the large commercial kitchen. Everything was bright and shiny, just the way she and Eden liked it to be: Nothing out of place and nothing that would fail a surprise inspection from the health people. Yes, Lisa knew that Eden would be pleased when she saw how clean it was. Not that Lisa expected Eden to say anything. After all, Eden hired Lisa to keep things clean. But she knew it would please her all the same and that made Lisa happy.
Lisa put the broom and dustpan into the closet and grabbed her heavy sweater from the hanger by the back door. As she opened the door the cold air hit her full in the face, making her eyes tear. She pulled the rolled neck of her old cable knit sweater up close to her ears and rushed along the path to the cabin. A tingle of excited anticipation ran up Lisa’s spine as she rounded the last stand of trees and saw the little wood structure with the smoke coming out of the chimney.
It looked to Lisa like a cabin in a fairy tale, with the tall cedars and mountain ash trees hovering over it and the green shutters bolted open to let in the last of the daylight. Eden always let Lisa run over to the cabin about an hour before the end of the workday so that she could start the fire and make her cabin cozy and warm for when she went back to it for the evening. Lisa smiled to herself, feeling her grateful for all that Eden had given to her. People always thought Eden was single minded and cranky, but Lisa knew better. She knew that letting her start the fire was typical of the many unacknowledged kindnesses that Eden did for others throughout the day. Like those horrible loggers. Eden gave them a winter home and only asked for a little work in return, but she had never heard them thank her.
Lisa walked up to the front of the cabin and reached for the doorknob, letting her fingers caress the cold metal for a moment as if it was something precious and fragile, rather than the rusted old piece of tin that it was. Lisa opened the door and then stood still, looking around to see if anyone had been in while she was working. Nothing seemed touched by others. She entered slowly, pulled off her sweater, and hung it on a hanger in the small closet, careful to close the door. She removed her heavy shoes and placed them neatly on the boot tray. Stepping quietly across the linoleum floor, she went to the bathroom and washed her hands and face. Lisa looked into the mirror above the sink and frowned. She hated her pale skin and the almost browless eyes that looked back at her. She picked up her broken hairbrush from the side of the sink and ran it through her thin, faded hair.
“Nothing helps,” she said aloud. Lisa wished she could make herself look like Eden who had eyes that were the same deep colors as the lake and whose skin always glowed from natural good health. Lisa pinched at her cheeks, trying to force some flush of pink into them, but the gesture only made the skin even whiter where she touched it. She rubbed vigorously at the marks, hoping to prevent them from turning into blue bruises. “Stupid, stupid,” she muttered. She didn’t want Eden asking how she came to bruise her face; that would be much too embarrassing.
Lisa left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen. She turned on the tap and let the water slowly fill the glass until it was almost to the top. She drank it in small, quick, catlike sips and then immediately washed the glass and put it away. She couldn’t stand to have even the slightest thing out of place in her lovely little home. Lisa walked into the tiny living area and looked around again. Satisfied that it remained peaceful and undisturbed, she crossed the room to the rocking chair by the window and sat down. Lisa rocked the chair slowly, back and forth, back and forth. The gentle rhythm of the movement provided her with the kind of comfort most people got from an old friend, or a pet. Lisa sat and rocked...and rocked...and rocked.
~~~
Eden was tired and ready for bed. She had done all she could to prepare for the meeting with her accountant the following morning, and she was looking forward to a quick bath in the old claw-foot tub, followed by a good night’s rest. The sixteen hour days she had been putting in for the last fifteen years were beginning to take their toll. “You’re not thirty any more, kiddo. Time to cut back,” Eden said to herself as she tidied up the last of the papers.
Heading to the office door and the end of her day, Eden stopped and took one last look around as she turned out the overhead light. The sudden darkness seemed extreme and she walked carefully over to the window, her feet able to find their way around the sparsely furnished room as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light. There was no moon tonight and the stars were obstructed by the storm clouds. It was if the Inn had been removed from the world and placed in a void, with nothing to link it to the blackness outside except the relentless pounding of the wet sleet against the curtainless windowpanes.
Eden felt a chill creeping through the windows and hugged herself to get warm. “Where are you, world?” Eden said aloud. For a brief moment she thought she saw something glimmer on the lake. She walked over the large square paned glass and leaned forward, as close to the window as she could get without pushing her nose onto the cold glass. Her breath began to fog the window so she moved slightly to the left and squinted into the dark. Eden stood there for a minute until the window began to fog again and she moved back. She knew there couldn’t really be anything out there. The lake had been choppy for the last month and the weather and the time of night made it unlikely that anyone would be out on a boat. Eden took one last look into the darkness and then headed off to her long awaited bath.
Chapter 2
Jim let the last of the liquid trickle down his throat. It was lukewarm and full of sugar, more like a syrupy sludge than coffee. But it had been a long day and he was glad to have the caffeine. He would need it to help him stay awake on the drive home. Sitting in the bridge of the small ferry and chatting with the captain would keep him awake for now, but the twenty minute drive into Nelson after they docked would be tricky. He rubbed his eyes, trying to ease the scratchy, tired feeling that was building under his eyelids.
“Hey Jim,” Captain Faulkner took his eyes off the navigation equipment and gave the tired realtor a questioning look. “Are you going to be all right driving into town? Maybe you should get a room at the Inn, it’s never full this time of year. Even if it was, I’m sure Eden would find a spot for you.”
Jim’s answer was stifled by a yawn. “No,” he finally managed. “I’ll be fine. As soon as the caffeine in this cup hits my nervous system I’ll probably be awake for a week.” Jim yawned again and then shivered as he was hit with a blast of cold air as the door to the bridge opened and the two deckhands entered.
“Cold out there tonight, eh?” Royce, the younger of the two men, reached his thick arm in front of Jim and poured himself a cup of the black coffee he had made four hours earlier. “Nothing like the last cup of coffee to perk you right up, eh.” The men chuckled, giving the kind of laugh that comes from exhaustion.
“Dear God,” Jim said, “we’re all a wreck tonight. I’ve been working hard all day. What’s your excuse?”
Royce laughed and poked his fellow deckhand, George, in the ribs. “Ask this guy. He’s the cause of my downfall.”
George pulled up the only other chair in the room and sat down heavily. “Well, I guess I been corrupting the poor boy.” George’s wide grin exposed a toothless gap, making his mouth look dark and cavernous. “We been playing pool at the new place in Nelson and staying up too late.” He stretched his arms, taking up most of the space on the small bridge. “Not tonight though, it’s going to be an early night for this cowboy.”
“We’re going to be at the dock soon,” the Captain said to the deckhands. “Is everything secure on the car deck?”
“Yup,” George answered. “Not much to do tonight. Hardly any cars on the run over and only Jim here on this run.”
“You still have rounds to make and the stations have to be checked,” the Captain said firmly. The ferry was small and the few crew members that it took to run it tended to see the job as an easy alternative to welfare. The Captain, though, was a well-trained professional and known in the community as one who maintained high standards however difficult the task.
George drank the last of his coffee and slowly rose to his feet. “We’ll give it the once over. Don’t you worry,” he said to the Captain as he and Royce reluctantly left the warmth of the little room.
“And you believe that?” Jim asked, smiling.
“No,” the Captain replied. “But George is the shop steward and you can be sure he’ll file some kind of grievance for making him work in unsafe conditions if I make him go out there in this kind of cold for too long. I don’t need the paperwork.” He pulled on the ferry horn, giving it a sharp blast as the boat veered wide to avoid one of the outcroppings of rock that stretched out from the shore. “I’ll let the day crew deal with them tomorrow,” he sighed heavily and then grinned. “Betty Grover is on day shift tomorrow and she’ll give them almighty hell for any work they leave undone.”
Jim chuckled at the thought. Betty had been a cleaner and deck hand on the ferry for over twenty years and everyone, including the regular passengers, knew better than to make a mess that she had to clean. “You’re right, she’ll be punishment enough.” Jim looked at the coffee grounds floating in what was left of his coffee and then tossed the styrofoam cup into the wastebasket. “Well, it’s time for me to head down and warm up my car.” He stood up and rubbed his eyes again. “I think the coffee is starting to help. I can almost see straight,” he laughed. “See you next week. I’ve got a couple of new listings in Riondel so I’ll be back and forth a lot till they sell.”
“Good night, Jim. Say hello to the wife,” the Captain called out to Jim’s back as he disappeared down the long, narrow flight of stairs that separated the bridge from the rest of the ferry.
Jim made his way down the two flights of stairs to the car deck. He couldn’t see any sign of the two crew men and assumed they were probably smoking a joint in the men’s room. He had caught them doing that a few times when he came back on the last run. He often considered reporting them to the Captain but always decided it was better to leave it alone. Jim felt he had become conservative enough over the years without turning into a narc. As he headed toward the car he wondered briefly if kids still used that term. He would have to ask his son when he got home.
Jim stopped suddenly. He was sure he had caught sight of something over by the far guard-rail. He squinted into the darkness but saw nothing. He could remember a time, not too long ago, when he would have been able to see if anything was there without the straining and squinting his eyes seemed to require now. He fumbled in his pockets for his car keys. The thick gloves kept him from grasping them in the large pocket of his winter overcoat. He swore softly and tried again, unwilling to remove his gloves in the cold night air.
Jim saw a movement out of the corner of his eye. He took a step in that direction and then stopped short. He heard something. A voice? He couldn’t tell. Jim looked around, hoping to spot one of the deck hands. There was no one in sight. He heard the sound again; it was as if someone was moaning. He turned away from his car and walked in the direction of the noise. It was barely audible, and it seemed to be coming from the other side of the guard-rail. He moved toward it and put his hands on top of the railing, leaning forward slightly to see if he could spot anything in the water. He could not hear anything, still, he was reluctant to turn away too soon.
Jim heard the sound again, coming from directly below him on the outside of the railing. He leaned further over and reached down to try to feel for whatever was there. Suddenly a sharp pain invaded his back and sought out his consciousness. It felt as if his whole body existed only in the horrifying pain that filled his entire being. He tried to grab at the source and turned automatically, but before he could do anything more, a hard object hit him full in the face. Jim tried to cry out but the blood from his shattered nose filled his mouth and only small choking sounds came out.
Squinting through the blood that poured into his eyes, Jim managed to make out a shape in front of him. It quickly bent down towards his feet. Jim tried to focus but he was overcome by dizziness and his mind was slow, the pain taking all of his thoughts. Without warning, Jim felt hands grab him and turn him around, pushing him against the guard-rail. He had only a moment to panic before he became aware of his feet being lifted. He was going over the side!
Once more Jim tried to cry out but all that would come out of his mouth was an “oomph” sound as he hit first the outer lip of the ferry and then the water. He tried to cry out again but his voice was lost in the onrush of icy water that carried the blood in his mouth further on into his lungs. The intense cold of the water registered in his mind as a brilliant stab of lightning, filling him while it pulled him down in the wake of the ferry. As the dark closed around him, Jim only briefly wondered what it was he had wanted to ask his son and then the terror took over and pushed out all his thoughts.
The dark figure watched the body go quickly under the waves and then reached over the railing to grab the small tape recorder that hung there suspended by a heavy string. The recorder and the axe both disappeared into the water, their small splash easily drowned out by the waves hitting the boat. Taking one last look around, the figure scurried up to the front of the ferry and around the outside of the railing. It hunched down on the lip of the boat, hanging onto the chains that would secure the ferry to the loading ramp, ready to crawl unseen to the ladder that led down to the maintenance barge.
Chapter 3
Eden sat down at the computer, took a deep breath and exhaled loudly. Her mind still felt cluttered so she tried the process again only to realize that she was becoming light headed from the overdose of oxygen. She was excited. The up-coming tourist season promised to be a solid financial success. She was already receiving bookings for the campground and most of the chalets and rooms had been booked a year ahead. The recent renovations had allowed her to raise the room rates enough to cover the increased mortgage payments and still turn a healthy profit.
At the meeting that had lasted three hours this morning, the accountant assured Eden that she only needed one successful summer after the renovations and, for the first time since she became sole owner of the Inn, she would be in a position to sell it at a large profit. And that would be her ticket out of the Kootenays and out of the life she had been trying to escape since her teens.
Eden rolled the chair back to the desk and turned on the computer, punching up the spreadsheet and losing herself in the numbers and figures that represented her plans for the Inn.
“Eden.”
At the sound of her name, Eden looked up to see Rhiannon O’Hara standing in the doorway and Eden warmed at the sight of her. The R.C.M.P uniform gave Rhiannon an aura of authority that appealed to Eden, but it was more than that. Eden could also sense an unspoken confidence exuding from Rhiannon. The chestnut brown hair, cut short and brushed behind her ears, and the piercing brown eyes only increased the slight feeling of breathlessness that Eden experienced whenever she saw Rhiannon. She started to get up to greet Rhiannon with a kiss but Rhiannon’s quick side step stopped her before she was fully out of her chair. She sat back, embarrassed and unsure of what was happening or what she should do next.
Rhiannon took off her hat and walked across the room to the overstuffed chair beside the corner windows. Eden was surprised that instead of seating herself as she usually did, Rhiannon remained standing.
“Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” Eden asked testily. Here I go again, let’s see how many people I can offend today. “I hate it when people keep appearing in my doorway.”
“Oh, a tad grumpy this morning, huh.” Rhiannon’s tone was light but still had an edge of formality to it. “What’s the matter, PMS? Another fight with Lee? Frozen pipes? Well, whatever your problem is, lighten up. I need to talk to you in an official capacity.”
When Rhiannon was assigned to the four person R.C.M.P. detachment in Kaslo the previous year she attracted a considerable amount of attention, not only because she was the first female constable in the community, but also because she was young, single, and attractive. It soon became apparent, though, that she was capable of doing her job and she didn’t appear interested in dating any of the locals. After a few months, the members of the community easily grew used to her, as they did with everything and everyone else, and soon enough their attentions drifted elsewhere. Except for Eden’s. Fortunately, her attraction had been reciprocated.
Eden saved her work on the computer and turned the chair to face Rhiannon. She was not in the mood for this, but she was curious. She was well aware that Rhiannon didn’t like mixing the personal with the professional but the small number of officers assigned to the local detachment, as well as the ban on overtime, often forced the boundaries to blur. Clearly, this was one of those occasions. “Okay, what is it. Some drunk do a hit and run and you think I’m a witness? Or do you think I’m the drunk?”
“No, it’s a possible death, a missing person,” Rhiannon replied as she undid the buttons on the outer coat of her heavy uniform. “I wouldn’t normally ask you this stuff officially, but I need some fast information and you were the first person I could think of who might be able to give me enough background.”
“Okay, so who’s missing?” Eden was curious.
“Jim Dolan. He was a realtor in Nelson. The ferry captain has known Dolan for years and he said that you knew him real well too. He was on the final run of the ferry last night coming back from Kootenay Bay, and he disappeared just before they docked. He’s still missing this morning and presumed to have gone over the side."
Eden’s heart skipped a beat and she felt as if all the warmth was suddenly drained from her body. She certainly did know Jim. They had gone to school together as children and dated casually when Lee was a baby. Over the years she and Jim had talked frequently about what price she could get for the Inn and he had a habit of dropping in for a coffee when he was in the area. “What do you mean he went over the side? Jim has crossed on that boat a million times; he knows what he’s doing. Was he stoned or something?”
“We don’t know,” Rhiannon answered, still standing, her tone still stiff and formal. “Mr. Dolan apparently went up to the bridge to have a coffee with the captain and the two crew members and then he was last seen going down the stairs to his car on the main deck. When they got to the dock, his car was still there, but there was no sign of him and his wife claims that she hasn’t seen or heard from him.” Rhiannon pulled her small notepad and pen from her jacket pocket and continued. “We also found blood on the floor of the car deck,” she said, “and on a section of the railing. We’ll know in a couple of hours if it matches his blood type. Apparently, there was also an axe missing from the car deck so it may have had something to do with his disappearance.”
“What about the other passengers?” Eden managed to ask. “Someone must have seen him?”
“According to the deck crew, there weren’t any other passengers on that run, just Mr. Dolan. The crew said they would have noticed if he walked off when they docked, so we’re assuming he went over the side, but I’m just in the beginning stages of the investigation.” Rhiannon shifted her weight, but Eden sensed that it would be useless to suggest that she seat herself. “His wife and colleagues seem convinced he wasn’t the type to commit suicide,” Rhiannon went on, “or to leave his job and family without telling anyone, so at the moment we’re looking at all possibilities.”
“No, Jim wouldn’t leave or kill himself.” Eden folded her arms across her chest, as if she was trying to hug herself. She had lost friends to drowning before, and to cancer, to drug overdoses, and to car accidents and even to avalanches. Years ago a friend of hers had even been mauled to death by a bear. Yet, the older she got, the more difficult it became to hear of the deaths of people that played a part in her life. It felt as if all the people she knew created a buffer between herself and death, and each time someone died, the buffer shrank a little more. The selfishness of the thought repelled her and she gave her attention fully back to Rhiannon.
“I’d really like to know why you’re talking to me about this?” Eden could hear the whining tone in her own voice and felt yet another tinge of embarrassment. She wondered briefly if she whined at everyone, or just people under the age of 40.
“I told you,” Rhiannon said as she opened her notebook to a blank page, “I need some information quickly and you were the first person I could think of who might be able to help me. This isn’t really a formal interview, Eden, or I would have had you come into the detachment,” Rhiannon replied as she opened the notepad to a blank page. “Will you do this for me?” Rhiannon asked.
“Okay, I already said I would,” Eden looked out the window and then back at Rhiannon. “Just give me a bit of a break. I’m really upset. This is quite a shock.”
Rhiannon sighed and shifted her weight again. “Thanks Eden,” she said. The slip of softness was gone as quickly as it had come and Rhiannon continued with the questions, “This is the second suspicious event in a relatively short period of time and I’m looking at possible connections.”
“What other event are you talking about” Eden asked.
“The murder of Willow Martin,” Rhiannon replied. “You knew Willow Martin and I want to ask if you can think of a link between her and Jim Dolan.”
“I don’t know.” Eden rubbed her hands together in an attempt to warm them. The news sent another chill through her body. “I haven’t seen much of Jim this winter. We usually just say hello and chat a bit if we run into each other or if he stops in here for a quick coffee. In the summer I see him more often because he has more listings up this way when the weather’s better,” Eden paused as a wave of loss ran through her. “Sometimes in the winter he stays at the Inn when he’s been up in Kaslo and the roads are too icy to get back to Nelson. We had such a mild winter though, I guess he didn’t need to do that.” Grief was constricting her throat. “This is so awful,” she stood up and walked over to look out the windows beside Rhiannon.
Jim had always been a nice guy, never very exciting but invariably friendly. Eden could vividly remember the sight of ten year old Jim, full of energy and running with what seemed like a permanent smile on his face and usually accompanied by his big German shepherd dog. “I don’t imagine you’ve found his body. What did you say about that? I can’t remember.”
“No, we haven’t found it yet. I guess that might take a while,” Rhiannon’s professional demeanor was a stark contrast to Eden’s heightened emotional state. “We might find him down the lake in the spring when the currents change,” Rhiannon went on, “but if we’re lucky he got caught on a piece of wood and will drift to the top fairly quickly. We have a team out dragging the lake now but I understand no one expects much from that. The lake is just too deep and bodies sink quickly at such cold temperatures.”
Eden turned and looked at Rhiannon, unable to mask the horror she felt. “How can you talk like this? You make it sound so impersonal?”
“It is impersonal, Eden. I’m doing my job. You asked a question; I answered it.” Rhiannon looked directly into Eden’s eyes, “I’m sorry if it’s hard for you, but I have to ask you to think. Did Mr. Dolan and Ms. Martin have anything in common?”
Eden tried to concentrate on the question. She felt sick about the murder and confused about Rhiannon. She was glad that she had not let her increasing delight in the relationship become obvious because it was beginning to feel as if Rhiannon was as emotionally unreliable as everyone else in her life had been.
Another wave of grief hit Eden and pulled her back to the killings. The murder of Willow a few months ago had shocked everyone. Murders happened in the Kootenays, but they were rare, and when they did occur, the murderer was always a friend, relative, or spouse of the victim. Willow’s murder was the first Eden ever heard about in the area that was not cleared up in a matter of weeks. And now Jim, a solid professional and dedicated family man, was missing. “You think he was murdered too. That’s why you want to know if they had anything in common, right? I knew them both so that’s why you have to interview me?”
“It’s something that has to be considered,” Rhiannon replied. “Two possible homicides in a relatively short period of time. One obviously a murder committed by person or persons unknown, and one possible death under suspicious circumstances. When I first told you about this, you asked if he was stoned. What made you think he might be?”
“Oh, nothing really. That was a really stupid thing for me to say. Jim and I hung out a lot when we were younger.” Eden paused and took a deep breath. It felt like she could not get enough air into her lungs. “We were a bit wild and there was lots of partying. Lots of marijuana, some LSD, a bit of hash”.
“I thought the hippie thing ended in the mid 70’s” Rhiannon interjected.
“Well, it might have everywhere else in the world,” Eden answered, “but not in the Kootenays. Just walk down the street in Nelson or Kaslo and you can see it still hasn’t ended for half the community. The whole sex, drugs, and rock and roll thing has never totally died down here. Anyway, that was a long time ago and we were just kids. He was never into it in a serious way, just the weekend party type. Then he got involved with Maryanne and they settled down and got married. We stopped hanging out after that and we just stayed casual friends.” Eden leaned against Rhiannon, as much out of habit as out of her need for comfort. Immediately she felt Rhiannon’s body stiffen and move away.
This was too much for Eden. “Why are you moving away from me?” Eden asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m here in an official capacity. I can’t hold you while I’m questioning you. It’s too confusing for me,” Rhiannon bristled.
“Please accept my apologies,” Eden didn’t like being chastised. “I haven’t dealt with you in your professional role before. Just tell me the rules and I’ll be good,” she said petulantly. God, she thought, now I’m starting to pout. Isn’t whining enough?
“I’m sorry, too,” Rhiannon responded quickly. “I’ve never had to interview a lover before so I’m not really clear about how to handle this either. I’m just trying to do the job, that’s all. I shouldn’t even be the one doing this with you but there isn’t anyone else available at the moment and I need to talk with as many people as possible who knew both Dolan and the Martin woman.” Rhiannon softened her voice, “Look, I don’t want to have a fight right now. Can we simply get on with the questions? I’ll be back later tonight and we can talk then.”
Eden walked back to her chair and sat down heavily. She pulled her legs up underneath her and tried to look as if everything was fine. She didn’t like being appeased by someone a decade younger than herself, but on occasion Rhiannon had a tendency to come across more as a disapproving parent than the lover she had been for the last six months. “Okay, carry on with your questions.” Eden muttered stiffly, trying to regain some dignity.
“Right,” said Rhiannon, “I asked if you knew of a link between Mr. Dolan and Willow Martin.”
Eden shifted in the chair. “Well, yes, but only from the past. We all knew each other. Willow was part of the group we partied with when we were in high school. She was older than the rest of us by at least ten or fifteen years, and she had that cabin on the mountain that she let us hang out in. We thought that was so cool.”
“She wasn’t from around here originally was she?” Rhiannon asked.
“No, I think she came up from the States in the late 60’s with some guy, a draft dodger probably, and they bought that old place with all the property. You could buy hundreds of acres on the mountain for twenty thousand dollars back then.” Eden paused and looked at Rhiannon, not sure if Rhiannon wanted more.
“Go on,” Rhiannon nodded.
“The guy wasn’t around long,” Eden continued. “I think they might have been married but I’m not sure. He didn’t like it here and he went back to wherever he came from. You’re too young to remember but lots of people had this idea that they would head for the mountains and live off the land, only they hadn’t considered that you can’t farm the side of a mountain without investing a lot money and hard work.” Eden was surprised to see Rhiannon making notes of what was being said. It suddenly struck her that this might really be a murder investigation. She began to feel sick again.
“Anyway,” Eden said, trying to focus her thoughts, “you must already know Willow’s history, but that’s the only connection I can think of. I doubt if they had much to do with each other after Jim and Maryanne got together and, like I said, that’s been well over twenty years. It’s not like Jim and Willow were ever close friends or anything. Willow’s house was a good place to party and Jim would be there sometimes. It was a pretty big place, at least for a mountain cabin, and it always seemed to hold a couple of dozen people at a time, including me. You know this already; we went through it when your office investigated Willow’s murder.”
“The Martin investigation was handled mainly by my colleague.” Rhiannon replied briskly, trying unsuccessfully to hide the resentment that Eden knew was attached to that issue. “Were they ever lovers?”
“I doubt it. She was so much older than most of us. There was a lot of sleeping around back then, so I guess something could have gone on, but I don’t remember that they ever had a relationship.” Eden got up and returned to her desk. “That was a long time ago, Rhiannon. I can’t imagine it has anything to do with the present. Jim is,” Eden faltered, “or was,” she continued, “married. Happily married. He had kids and he had a house and he played golf on weekends. He and his wife went on exotic vacations, and he was past-President of the Chamber of Commerce. He and Willow couldn’t have had anything in common now.”
“No, it doesn’t sound like it. Is there anyone that you can think of who had any kind of serious problem with Mr. Dolan?”
“There wasn’t anything to dislike about the guy,” Eden responded. She suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that Jim was gone, and wondered what his wife was going through. Eden made a mental note to call Maryanne later.
“And you also think he was not a likely candidate for suicide, is that correct?” asked Rhiannon.
“That is correct, Constable.” The rising tide of grief made Eden impatient. “Can you go now, and do like you said, come back tonight?” She held herself back from adding, come back when you’re in human form. She watched Rhiannon write something in the little notebook. And when did I start to find women in a cop uniform so attractive?
Rhiannon closed her notebook and slid it back in her jacket pocket. She crossed the room to retrieve her hat and, as she did, she looked out at the lake and the mountains beyond. “Why do want to leave here? You’ll never find anywhere more beautiful.”
“Isn’t that a bit personal, Constable?” Eden asked, annoyed that Rhiannon was not following her own rules.
“Sorry,” she said, smiling. “See you tonight.” Rhiannon blew Eden a kiss as she left the office.
Eden stared at the computer. The screensaver presented her with the images of flying toasters. Eden liked that one the best. It amused her to see it as her own symbol of the possibility of someday leaving the Kootenays. After all, if toasters can fly, I can too, she would think. But she didn’t find the image amusing today.