Dead in Winter, page 7
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Marjorie stepped over a pile of snow at the curb leading to the plowed lot at the minimart. Marvin had always been conscientious about keeping his area as free of snow as possible and everyone knew it and appreciated that, especially Ezra. She pushed open the front door and slipped into the warmth of the station.
“Hey, Marjorie, cold enough for you?” Marvin chuckled. His eyes sparkled on seeing her. They had been friends a long time.
“Hi, Marvin, too damn cold,” she replied with the standard answer in Hell. “I’m hoping you have cat food and litter.”
“Sure thing: back wall next to the paper towels. When did you get a cat?”
“About an hour ago, I found this poor little white cat inside the post office when I went in to check on things. She was half-starved and half-froze. I have no idea how she got in, but she’s home with me now.”
“There’s mail coming in?” he asked, hopefully.
“Not yet, but with the snow stopping, we could see the truck any day now.” Marjorie went to the back of the store and eyed the bags of litter and dry cat food. After choosing the smallest bags, she took them to the counter. “I’ll have to come back later for more.”
“Are you walking in this frigid air?” he asked, astonished.
“Oh, sure, it’s not that far, but I didn’t realize the bags would be so big.”
“Well, I can’t let you walk back in these temperatures carrying a heavy load like that!” Marvin picked up his cellphone and called his nephew Roy Beltrum. “Roy will be here in a minute to watch the store for me and I’ll drive you home.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t mind?”
“Naw, he’s always looking to get a few extra hours in, and since he’s staying with me, he’s just behind the station. Why don’t you get as much as you need right now and save yourself a trip later.” Like many in Hell, Marvin’s home was very close to his place of business as a matter of convenience.
Marvin loaded Marjorie’s new purchases, cat food, litter, milk, bread, and a bottle of wine into the back seat of his plow truck, and then helped her into the high cab.
“I really appreciate the lift,” Marjorie said, settling into the soft bench seat and fastening her seatbelt.
“Least I can do with all you do for the town. As cold as it is, now -10, I can’t believe you actually went to the post office.”
“Well, you know how the old saying goes: Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds…on the other hand that doesn’t say anything about freezing your ass off to open the post office doors for that courier.”
Marvin let out a hearty laugh, enjoying Marjorie’s blunt humor.
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“I can see now why you didn’t drive, Marjorie: your driveway is a mess,” Marvin said, eying the snow-filled entrance.
“I know. With all the snow and wind, I feel lucky to have gotten a path done! Thanks for the lift, Marv, I really appreciate it.” She slid down off the high seat and landed lightly on the road, just as Marvin came around and took the heavier items from her. He then followed her into her house.
“And where is this furball that has you traipsing around in these cold temperatures?”
As if on cue, Nilla peeked around the corner of the box she’d been sleeping in and softly meowed at the now empty tuna dish. Marjorie added the second half of tuna to the plate and got another bowl for the dry food.
“Say, Marjorie, can I take you to dinner some night?” Marvin cautiously asked. Marvin was a confirmed bachelor, but still enjoyed some female company on occasion and Marjorie was at the top of his list. Dinner wasn’t a commitment. He’d had a crush on Marjorie since high school and they had dated on and off for years.
“I’d like that.” She smiled up at him.
After he left, she looked out the front window and saw him plowing her driveway. She grinned at his thoughtfulness.
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“Oh look, a used bookstore, and it’s open!” Elly bubbled over with excitement, pushing the door open, Murphy at her booted heels. They had been walking for only a few minutes, but the air was so cold, the heated store beckoned to them.
“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” the proprietor asked, clutching a mug of hot cider in her hands.
Elly thought for a moment. “I love disaster books.”
“Those are on the back wall, right next to the coffee pot. Help yourself. There’s also hot water for tea and a carafe of hot cider if you prefer.”
They followed the well-worn wooden floor to the back, the coffee pot, and shelves stuffed neatly with a wide variety of gently used books.
“Wow, a signed copy of The Journal: Cracked Earth. I loaned a cousin my copy and never got it back,” Elly explained after perusing the shelves and spotting one of her favorite writers. “This author makes everything sound so real, it can be spooky. Here’s one you might like.” She handed him a book by the same author with a bluish cover.
“Polar Storm? Have you read this?”
“Oh yeah, I read all of her books as soon as they come out. This is kind of what we’re experiencing right now. Read it, you’ll like it.” She gave Murphy a shoulder bump and moved on to get some cider. They perused the shelves for a few minutes and several books later, Elly paid for her selection and ventured out into the cold, Murphy close behind with his few items.
The next business they went into was the Resale Boutique & Antique Shoppe where several customers wandered the narrow aisles.
“Amazing. This is more like an indoor flea market!” Murphy said, wide-eyed.
“You like flea markets and yard sales?” Elly asked nonchalantly, trying to learn more about the man beside her.
“In my line of work, I don’t get much time to browse places like this, but it sure is interesting and fun. Hey look: a whole shelf of board games.” He picked up one after another and set them back down.
“So what is your line of work?” Elly slipped in casually.
“Um, consultations mostly. I haven’t seen an Obliqo game in twenty years! I’ve got to have this!” He picked up the red cloth bag and grinned all the way to the counter. Over the years of covert operations, Murphy had learned how to quickly discourage questions about his profession with evasive maneuvers.
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
“The bag is full of wooden pieces cut into different shapes and sizes. The object is to keep placing one on top of the pile until it falls down,” he explained as he paid for it.
Elly set down a game of dominoes, Scrabble, and two decks of cards. “At least we will have something to do in the evenings now.”
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“I smell fresh donuts,” Elly exclaimed when they left the resale shop. She darted across the empty snowy street and ducked into the building on the other side. The warm scent of cinnamon washed over her when she opened the door.
Betty Atkins smiled brightly at the new customers, and she was grateful: they were the first she’d had all day.
“Fresh cinnamon cake donuts and cider: This is pure heaven,” Murphy agreed. “Honestly, Elly, I don’t know where you put all this food; you’re such a tiny thing.”
“High metabolism.” She laughed and took another bite, sighing as the sweetness exploded in her mouth. She slowly licked her fingers and grinned at a red-faced Murphy.
Regrettably leaving the warmth, they ventured outside again. At the curb, Elly slipped on some ice and reached out wildly. Murphy caught her arm and tucked it inside his elbow. “I think it best if you hold on to something. All the ice under this snow is murder!”
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Betty Atkins, owner of Betty’s Bakery, watched as the two strangers left her donut shop and saw that the woman had almost fallen. That was a situation she didn’t need. Insurance was just something she couldn’t afford, not with secretly putting money away for her child’s education. She made herself a note to get a bucket of salt from the shed at the municipal building.
Betty knew her cinnamon cake donuts were the best in the county. She’d worked hard to perfect the recipe and to make a name for herself and a make safe home for her daughter, Mallory. Her daughter always came first with her. Always. No sacrifice was too great.
Betty had lived in a larger city before coming to Hell, while she went to school. One night walking back to her apartment, she was attacked and raped. After healing from the attack injuries, it was discovered she was now pregnant. The hospital staff was supportive of her plight and lined her up with support groups, most of which encouraged her to have an abortion or to give the baby up for adoption when it was born. Betty couldn’t do either.
Being a single parent was one of the most difficult things she had done in her entire life, but to her, it was worth it. During her pregnancy, she continued to go to school to be a pastry chef and when she gave birth to her little girl she knew all her sacrifices had paid off. Mallory was perfect. A year later, Betty’s parents were killed in a plane crash, never having even seen their only grandchild. The settlement she received from the airline was enough for her to move away from the city and raise her child in the much safer environment of Hell. She thought it ironic, because she felt she was in heaven.
Betty bought a small house right on the main drag through town and converted the front into a bakery. She and Mallory slept in the single bedroom in the back. During the day, Betty kept her daughter in a playpen in the shop, and when she grew out of that, there was a miniature school desk and then a full-sized one. Home-schooling was never a problem in the remote community. Mallory was very smart and teaching her to read and write was a breeze. As she grew, Betty was very aware of and thankful that Mallory had her coloring: dark brown hair, brown eyes even though she didn’t look a lot like her. Perhaps she looked like her father; Betty never saw him so she didn’t know.
Eventually, as Mallory grew, they both needed more room. Although her donuts were what brought tourists in, it was her breads that paid the bills. Betty made all the bread, buns, and anything else they asked for, for the Damn Inn and for the rest of the community. It kept her very busy and Betty put enough money in savings to buy a real house, with a real yard; something she herself had never had.
The couple that just left for some reason reminded Betty of herself and her missed years while she raised her child. Missed years, missed relationships; men didn’t want a ready-made family. It also reminded her that Mallory would be 18 years old soon. The years had gone by so quickly it brought a tear to her eyes—and a smile.
CHAPTER TWELVE
With the other two couples gone, the gathering at the Damn Inn was much smaller and more intimate. Elly and Murph brought out the games they had purchased earlier and with drinks in hand set up the games. After clearing off one of the tables, they started with Scrabble, while the men played a couple games of dominoes.
Eventually, Murphy insisted on playing Obilqo and spread out the pieces, which got the attention of the others.
“Ha! See if you can put one in place that won’t topple the tower!” Elly giggled.
“You’re doing pretty good for never having played this before.” Murphy eyed the wooden pieces from all angles and slipped a long, thin dowel in between two other pieces and grinned triumphantly when the structure remained stable.
She gave him an exasperated yet friendly scowl and picked up another piece, then set it down again.
“Oh, no, rules are if you chose it you use it!”
Elly stuck her tongue out at him, and garnered laughs from all the onlookers. She set the angled piece of wood down gently and…the tower came crashing down, scattering the pieces across the table.
“Well, now, that’s perfect timing: Karl just informed me that the meatloaf is done; dinner is ready,” Kate announced, smiling at the good time her guests were having in spite of the weather circumstances.
“Karl? I thought Jerry was your cook,” Ron questioned.
“Jerry gets up early to set the breakfast buffet while Karl sleeps in, and then Karl cleans up and does lunch while Jerry gets a nap. Often they will do the dinner menu together, like tonight: meatloaf is one of Karl’s specialties,” Kate explained.
Ron looked thoughtful for a long moment. “Are Jerry and Karl a couple?”
“Yes. Is that a problem?” Kate kept her face neutral, but inwardly was ready to defend her crew.
“Not at all,” Ron quickly said. “I’ve just never seen Karl before, only Jerry. And it makes sense that there are two cooking; I’m glad I didn’t accuse you of working Jerry too hard.” He chuckled.
After dinner, Ron left for his room taking his unfinished drink with him, knowing he had to check in with the commander.
“How are things progressing?” his commander asked.
“Proceeding smoothly; the brutally cold weather is keeping most everyone indoors. There have been two deaths so far, but appear to be natural causes due to advanced age. How long do you want us here?” Ron asked cautiously.
“Until you’re done,” she said sharply and hung up.
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“Thank you for a most delightful day, Elly. That game was really a lot of fun. Maybe we can play another one tomorrow?” Murph hinted blatantly at a rematch.
“I would like that,” she answered. “The fun doesn’t have to end just yet. Would you care to join me for a nightcap? I have a really nice bottle of Johnny Walker Blue in my room,” she smiled sweetly.
“…Blue? I would be delighted to!” His eyes went wide with appreciation, and anticipation of what the night might hold.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Murph stood at the wrought iron railing outside his room, watching the snowfall. He’d slipped out of Elly’s bed and left her sleeping peacefully. He knew he’d had too much to drink and needed to clear his head before going to his own bed or the dizziness would make him sick; the cold air should do it. He felt the presence behind him more than heard anything and turned.
“What are you doing out here? It’s cold,” he said, stating the obvious.
“-20 to be exact, Lieutenant,” was the reply.
Murph blinked a couple of times, trying to focus on what seemed wrong with that answer when he felt the hand on the back of his neck. Before he could react, his head was forcibly slammed into the frozen railing, a dent in his forehead now showing where his cranium was crushed, bone fragments slicing into his gray matter. The trauma was precise and complete. He collapsed in a heap.
Murph could feel his body being moved but he couldn’t resist. He was dragged backward and propped up against the building away from the railing and out of casual view from below. He couldn’t move; couldn’t open his eyes; couldn’t speak; he could only sit there in the bitter cold and think with what little consciousness he had left. The blood dripping down his forehead had frozen almost instantly; his exposed cheeks hardened as the skin began to freeze. Mentally, he knew he was cold, but he didn’t feel cold, and he found that odd. What he did feel was tired, and if his eyes weren’t already closed, he would have closed them and drifted pleasantly off to sleep. The wind picked up and quickly erased both sets of footprints and covering Elias Murphy with a heavy dusting of crystalized snow.
By morning, the temperature registered -35 with the wind chill approaching -50.
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“Has anyone seen Murphy this morning?” Ron asked, pouring some freshly made dark roasted coffee into a white ceramic mug.
All present shook their heads no.
“Wasn’t he with you last night, Elly?” he questioned further.
“He was for a while, yes. We had a couple of drinks and then he left around 1:00 in the morning,” she replied innocently. Although she was dozing lightly, Elly was awake when Murphy left her and watched him close the door. “He was staggering a bit, but walked out into the hall just fine. Did you check his room?” She didn’t want to admit to their liaison, and didn’t think it was anyone’s business but theirs. She didn’t usually form an attachment to anyone while on assignment, but Elias Murphy was…special.
“I don’t have a key. Kate, will you let me in to check on him?”
“Of course.” She glanced over at Ezra who immediately stood to accompany them, Elly following the trio.
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“Well, he didn’t sleep in this bed last night,” Ron said, casting an accusing look at Elly.
“The room is a bit chilly, and…feels drafty,” Ezra observed. He moved over to the glass door leading to the balcony and ran his hand over the edges, feeling the slight breeze. “This door isn’t completely closed.” He pulled on the handle, scraping frost off the lower metal track as the door struggled to move, and stuck his head out.
“Aw, shit!” Ezra yanked hard on the door to get it fully open and stepp-ed out.
Elias Murphy was sitting on the decking, leaning against the building, partially covered with snow and frozen solid.
“Ron, give me a hand!” and the two of them struggled with the sitting figure, after dislodging his clothing that had frozen to the snow beneath, finally getting the human statue into the room.
Elly gasped, going pale.
Kate took a steadying breath and approached the corpse as the blood drained from her face. “Oh, horse feathers!” she whispered. “Look at his forehead.” She then looked out at the long balcony, tilting her head in question and stepped out to examine something. “There appears to be blood on the railing and it’s frozen solid.”
