[stylist] Sense of murder

[Bridgit Pollpeter]

Brad,

To address some of your points:

Ayden is a recluse in that he does not develop intimate relationships
with people until meeting  Salma.  He goes through the motions, but
never emotionally or mentally connects with anyone.   Salma provides a
deeper friendship than he has cultivated so far.

Ayden begins by tapping along the brick building which sounds
differently from tapping against  the glass door.  This is a description
of how we use a cane.  No one sighted who has read this  was confused by
it.  If writing for a blind audience only, it would not make sense, to
me, to  include these descriptions at all since we know how we do
things.  On the other hand, having an  audience who may not have
exposure to blind people and/or their skills, they would wonder how  a
blind character does certain things.  We all know how people have simple
questions for us so it  seems like these descriptions would be more
appreciated by those who do not know how a blind  person acts or thinks.
Plus, making Ayden blind (which he was not originally) readers will need
to know certain things.   Like I can't just sit my blind character at a
computer and expect some people to understand this.

Ayden leaned across the table looking straight in the direction where
Sheriff Jenkins sat.  "I  thought Henry was a catch.  You know, a lawyer
from a wealthy family."
"He was a playboy.  Always was, never changed."
Eache of these is its own para.  When action is included with dialogue
in a para, it is attached to  the speaker.  Since the first para begins
with Ayden, the following dialogue is attached to Ayden.

Again, so far sighted readers have appreciated the descriptions dealing
with things specific to  blind people.  Most people have no idea what a
slate and stylus is even when looking at one.  It  makes sense, to me,
to give a brief description of visually what it looks like while at the
same time  explaining how one uses it.

Salma's comment about figuring out the case without technology is
clearly sarcasm.  During this  whole portion of dialogue, Salma is
reaching impatience with Ayden for not picking things up  quick enough.
She shows her playful side so this comment does not seem to fit into the
serious  considering her attitude with everything else.  Also, it is
common knowledge that people use to  conduct life without all the
technology we have now, so I assumed readers would get it.  And the
following "Ayden smirked at her," kind of gives one a clue that they are
joking with one another.   Accessible is in italics which means Ayden is
stressing the word playing along with Salma's  sarcasm.

Ayden and Salma are not from this small town.  There are numerous places
throughout where  they talk about being from a city and Ayden mentions
not having visited here often.  Regardless,  people in a town of 10,000
still use phone books and the like to look up contact info.

Alice was in love with Henry and he died before they could resolve their
relationship.  When she  sees Ayden, who looks just like Henry, she is
presumably thrown off guard and utters this before  she knows what she
is doing.
It does not seem that unnusual for a person to remark on the uncanny
resemblence a person might  bear to some one else they knew.  People
constantly come up to my sister to tell her that her  daughter is the
spitting image of her.

I established early on that Salm and Ayden live across the hall from one
another.  I did not clarify  the point that they were or were not living
together, but I do make it clear that they are dating.
So far, a lot of people have enjoyed this aspect of the story since
Henry was a bit of a cad.  Sort  of a redemptive quality in a sense.
I wanted their relationship to happen quickly.  They are in this
situation together and  subconscience feelings begin to rise to the
surface.  Most mysteries include a love element  anyway.
FYI, my husband and mine's relationship happened quickly like this.
*smile*

First, no this is not a conclusion, but I purposefully meant to place
suspicion on Alice, Henry's  lover, Sheriff Jenkins and Nick, Ayden's
father.  It is clear in the end that Ayden is not done  looking into
Henry's death, but it takes a reprieve.  Plus, Ayden is not a detective
so he may not  have the same obsession to finish a case especially if he
felt he knew some of the answers.

I probably won't continue this story since I merely wrote it for a
class, but Ayden is a character I  have been working on for a couple of
years.  I may deal with him again, but not in the context of a  mystery.
I'm too focused on non-fiction right now to develop a fiction
unfortunately.

Bridgit

-----Original Message-----
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Sent: Friday, October 08, 2010 12:00 PM
To: stylist at nfbnet.org
Subject: stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 5


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Today's Topics:

   1. detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some language,
      alludes to sexual content (Bridgit Pollpeter)
   2. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some language,
      alludes to sexual content (Priscilla McKinley)
   3. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language,
      alludes to sexual content (Joe Orozco)
   4. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language,
      alludes to sexual content (Robert Leslie Newman)
   5. Re: detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some language,
      alludes to sexual content (BDM)
   6. no more mystery (Pat Harmon)


----------------------------------------------------------------------

Message: 1
Date: Thu, 7 Oct 2010 21:05:39 -0500
From: Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com>
To: writers division <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
	language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <SNT136-w5394EB83769ED4F1912F90C4500 at phx.gbl>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="Windows-1252"


Hey guys,
 
I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an upper lit
credit.  We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would share
mine with you.  Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also, I wrote
it in about a 12-our time span.  Yes, I'm a procrastinator!  *smile*
 
It was fun though so enjoy.
 
Bridgit P
 
Sense of Murder
            
Ayden sat in his father?s leather wingback chair rolling a large key
between his fingers.  The metal key had been cold, but now was warmed by
his hands.  He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb across the
rough , rusty surface.  Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been
researching the mysterious death of his grandfather for a book he was
writing.  Now, he sat among items wondering if his grandfather had been
murdered. Ayden?s father, Nick, had found Henry, his grandfather, lying
at the bottom of the staircase in his home.  Nick never spoke about the
incident after reporting it to the police.  He would not speak to Ayden
about Henry?s death either, but he was allowing Ayden and Salma to
search through any items Nick kept. No one had been sure what happened.
Lucy, Ayden?s grandmother, had been present too when Henry?s body was
found.  The police recorded the death as an accidental fall.  Many
silently pointed fingers at Lucy though. Lucy had grown distraught
during the past few months before Henry?s death.  Friends and family
reported that she had been distracted often or in an irritated mood.
This was unlike the warm and tender grandmother Ayden had grown up with.
When Nick found his father?s body, Lucy had gone wild, screaming, unable
to leave Henry?s lifeless body.  Eventually Nick placed her in a care
home.  Here Lucy had reached an almost catatonic state until she too had
passed. Gossips spread the news, sweeping far and wide.  Lucy was crazy,
they said.  She went mad, she killed her husband.  It was juicy, just
what a small town needed.  The police never looked into the possibility,
but Lucy died with a scarlet letter attached to her memory.  Ayden could
never believe that Lucy would hurt anyone.  Lucy had been fond of Ayden,
guiding him, encouraging him.  ?You?re so full of potential, Ayden.  I
can see fire in your eyes,? she used to tell him.  When Ayden lost his
vision, Lucy had been the one person who supported him, still
encouraging. For years, though,  there had been whispers of foul play,
but no one ever spoke about the rumors.  Vague insinuations were the
closest anyone came to mentioning ?murder.?  Ayden, though, had never
played by the rules.  His mother referred to him as the ?black sheep of
the family? whenever she threw a dinner party.  Ayden never felt like he
fit in his family?s world of snobbish dinner parties, elite country
clubs and preferential treatment at most Ivy League universities.  He
had already been a disappointment to his family before a car accident
left him blind.  Seven-years later, Ayden had come to terms with his
blindness, but his family accepted him only out of duty.  His father had
been clear when saying, ?This condition of yours is not suitable for the
courtroom, but the firm can take you on in a capacity for research,
perhaps.  Maybe a paralegal position will be suitable.? Ayden was not
able to live with this attitude hanging over him.  After completing his
bachelor?s in literature, Ayden took up a career writing for any
newspapers or journals that accepted his entries.  Writing for a small
literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his novel which had turned
into a fictionalized account of his grandfather?s death.  Asking his
father for any information about his grandfather?s life, was the reason
Ayden now sat in his father?s study.  He found more, he thought,  than
his father knew about though. ?So what?s next?? Salma asked.  Salma
lived across the hall from Ayden in his building.  They had become
friends, and Salma now was helping him research his grandfather?s life.
Tapping the key in his palm, Ayden said, ?I?m not sure.  This letter
says a lot.? Ayden closed his eyes thinking on this letter.  It was
evidence, even if circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew about it,
she could have killed Henry. There was a pause then paper crackled
before Salma spoke.  ?It?s pretty clear from this letter that your
grandfather was having an affair.  I wonder if we can figure out these
initials, A. W.? Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to remember anyone
he had ever met with A. W. for initials.  ?I don?t know,? he sighed. As
Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they had found an old
copy of Wuthering Heights.  Ayden remembered the year Henry had given
the third edition book to Lucy for Christmas.  Lucy had sat unwrapping
the gift, then exclaimed, ?Oh,? before looking up with tears in her
eyes.  Wuthering Heights had always been her favorite novel.  Lucy had
been the one person to encourage Ayden to follow his dream and take up
writing instead of joining the family law firm.  ?You?re meant to follow
your own path,? Lucy had told Ayden once.  Twenty-years later, Ayden and
Salma found a letter enclosed in the pages of the book. Ayden touched
the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it out to Salma to inspect.
She told him the letter appeared old, but not as old as the book.  A few
of the torn edges of the letter were turning yellow.  The letter was
simple as she read:  
Henry, my love,
I can not wait to see you again.  I hoped and when I saw you coming down
the road, my heart leaped.  I still feel your touch.  How much longer
must we wait?  Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is too
late.  
Love, A. W.
?What now?  Where do we go next?? Salma asked.
Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him.  ?We visit the old
Templeton mansion.? The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home Henry
and Lucy had lived in for years.  The family still owned it, but it had
sat empty for years.  Ayden thought that maybe more secrets were hidden
within the walls of the Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
 

 
Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove.  Neither spoke as Ayden?s fingers
slid across the pages on his lap.  Reading his Braille notes, Ayden
wondered where to start once they reached the small town where his
grandparents and father had grown up.  Henry had started a small law
firm in town, but eventually it grew.  Henry and Lucy had moved when
Nick had been ten.  Nick never spoke about his childhood though.  Ayden
really didn?t know much about his family?s past.  Lucy and Henry had
moved back to their old house once Nick took the firm over, but Ayden
had rarely visited the home.  After Henry had died, Lucy, unable to cope
with his death, had moved into an upscale nursing home in the City, and
Nick left the house untouched.  The house had sat empty now for ten
years. As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma.  ?Are we there??
?Yes.  What?s our first stop?? ?I?m  figuring this out as we go along.
I guess the police station.? Salma was silent before saying, ?You okay?
I know your dad wasn?t happy.? Ayden had questioned his father about the
letter, but Nick had gone quiet and cold before telling Ayden, ?Leave it
alone.  We don?t dig up family history.? Ayden tried to coax Nick to say
more, but the subject was closed. ?Yeah.  I wish he would have told us
more.  Explained something,? Ayden said. ?Maybe he just wants to keep
your family secrets, well, secret.  Some people don?t like giving out
info about anything.? ?I just feel like he knows more than he?s letting
on.  Mom just played dumb too.? ?We?ll find something.  Don?t worry.?
Salma was always reassuring Ayden.  She had become a constant in his
life.  The only real constant he had.  She had shown up one day,
knocking on his door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some
home made enchiladas.  That had been the beginning of their friendship.
They had spent many nights talking until three in the morning and
hanging out on weekends.  Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the
outside world.  Once moving away from his family, he had become a
recluse of sorts.  He showed up to the office for work, attended
cocktail parties required for work and even dated a couple of girls, but
Salma was the one person he truly felt comfortable with.  Her infectious
way of always looking at things positively seemed like a novelty to
Ayden.  She could always make him smile.  When he began writing the book
about Henry, Salma had offered to assist in anyway she could. ?I?m
really glad you?re here,? Ayden said.

?Yeah, yeah.  I?m waiting for my pay check.?  Salma giggled as she
pulled into a parking stall.  ?I think we?re here.? While Salma dropped
coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane along the brick
walls looking for the door.  Hearing the clink of glass as his cane
tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door. ?No Braille, is this it?? he
shouted back to Salma. ?I believe so,? she answered rushing to catch up.
They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the police
station.  Ayden moved towards the sound of  clacking as some one pressed
keys on a computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency.  This, he
thought, must be a reception desk. Stepping up to a smooth feeling
counter, Ayden said, ?Excuse me.? ?Can I help you?? a woman?s bored
voice said. ?We were wondering if we can speak to some one who worked
the Henry Templeton case,? Ayden said. The woman stopped typing and a
long silence followed.  ?Who?s  asking?? ?I?m Ayden Templeton, Henry?s
grandson.? ?One minute.?  A chair creaked as the woman stood.  Her shoes
clacked as she walked away. Salma touched Ayden?s arm.  ?She had a weird
look when you mentioned your grandpa?s name.? Ayden said nothing, not
sure what he was doing there in the first place. The woman?s shoes
clacked once more as she returned.  Another footstep joined hers, but
this person shuffled slightly. The person shuffled towards Salma,
saying, ?Hello.  I?m Sheriff Jenkins.  How can I help you?? Ayden
stepped closer towards Salma, extending his arm to Sheriff Jenkins.
?I?m Ayden Templeton and this is Salma Juarez.  We have some questions
about my grandfather?s death.? There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins
shook Ayden?s hand.  ?Step into my office please.? Ayden followed the
sheriff into a room off the main section of the department.  His cane
swep the inside of the door frame, indicating the width so Ayden avoided
bumping into the edges of the frame.  Ayden asked where a chair was and
turned in the direction Captain Jenkins indicated.  Once again, his cane
found the chair and sliding the cane across the seat, Ayden determined
where the front of the chair was.  Salma?s arm brushed his as she sat
next to him. ?Can I get you anything?? Sheriff Jenkins asked. ?No, but
thank you.  Salma?? ?I?m good,? Salma replied. Ayden felt a tension fill
the room as the three sat there, not speaking.  Sheriff Jenkins began
tapping the edge of the metal table in the interrogation room.  Ayden
twisted his cane between his fingers.  Salma bobbed her foot which was
lightly kicking Ayden?s shin. ?We?re hoping to learn as much as we can
about Henry Templeton?s death.  I?m researching the story for a novel
I?m working on,? Ayden started. ?I worked the case.  There?s not much to
tell,? Sheriff Jenkins said. ?I know you eventually reported it as an
accidental death, but was there ever any evidence suggesting otherwise??
Ayden asked. ?No.  We questioned friends and family and there was no
reason to believe Henry Templeton was murdered,? Sheriff Jenkins said
sharply. Ayden shifted his head towards Salma before saying, ?I know
there was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it.? ?Lucy
Baldwin?  She never hurt anyone.  We were all shocked when she married
Henry.  She could have had anyone she wanted.? Ayden leaned against the
table looking straight in the direction where Sheriff Jenkins sat.  ?I
thought Henry was a catch?  You know, a lawyer from a wealthy family.?
?He was a playboy.  Always was, never changed.? ?Who did you question
about his death?? Salma broke in. The sheriff?s chair creaked as he
leaned back.  ?Well, of course Lucy and her boy Nick.  They were there.
Found his body and all.? Ayden shot the sheriff a questioning glance.
He was talking like he had forgot who Ayden was. ?Then there was Zelda,
the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he came around about once a week to
help Lucy with the lawn.  She loved her garden.  Her roses won prizes
around here,? Sheriff Jenkins continued. ?Anyone else?? Ayden asked.
?Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so they didn?t see much
of him anymore.  Alice Whitley, she had been his personal secretary for
years.  She still did stuff part-time for Henry.? Ayden had pulled out a
three-by-five plastic device that had six rows of cells containing three
holes on each side of the cells.  A pop-pop-pop sound was made as Ayden
poked a pointed awl-like object called a stylus through the holes as he
took Braille notes.  ?Are any of these people still around?? ?Not
everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton?s to leave town.
Other than Henry?s work associates, I think most of them still live
around here.  At least the one?s who are still alive.? ?Is there
anything else you can tell us?  Was there anything strange you noticed?
Any evidence that suggest something other than an accidental tumble down
the stairs?? The sheriff laughed.  ?I know you city folk like to dream
up seedy happenings in small towns, but Henry Templeton?s death was
nothing more than an accident.  Nothing dark about it.? ?Thank you for
your time,? Ayden said extending his hand again to shake Sheriff
Jenkins?s. Sheriff Jenkins sighed.  ?Look, don?t go digging anything up.
Just let the dead rest.? Salma?s bracelet tinkled as they stood. ?We
understand.  I?m just trying to find things out about my grandfather for
the book.  You know, no stone uncovered,? Ayden said. ?Are you two
married?? Sheriff Jenkins asked. Ayden, confused by the switch, replied,
?No.? The sheriff chuckled.  ?Like your grandpa, I see.? Ayden blushed,
but Salma said, ?Ayden is nothing but a gentleman.  Clearly something he
did not pick up in this town.? ?I know the kind of men the Templeton?s
are,? the sheriff said. Unsure of what to do, Ayden turned to leave. ?At
least he has a better chance of touching what you have been admiring
this whole time,? Salma snapped.  She turned quickly and Ayden felt a
rush of breeze as she left the room.
 
Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
?I?m sorry.  I didn?t know what to say.?
?It?s okay.  He was a pig.?
?I didn?t realize-?
?I know, its okay.  Where to next??
Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone.  ?The house, I
guess.? As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of traffic,
Ayden wondered why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.  Was it
simply said in a moment of anger, or was there any truth in her words,
he thought.  He has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring.  For the first time, Ayden thought of the possibilities with
Salma.
 
 
Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it had been
during the few visits he had made during his childhood.  The house had
always stood out even among the street full of bright, cheery houses
complete with emerald lawns and award winning gardens.  The Templeton
house had a wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening onto a
large lawn complete with a British garden.  Its three stories reached
majestically towards the sky.
 
 
Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house.  The feel of
the railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark wooden
banister.  The stairs creaked as he stepped on them.  Reaching the
porch, he felt a slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear of
falling through the porch.  Children played nearby and cars languidly
drove down the street, but a strange silence surrounded the house.  It
was as though Ayden were underneath water trying to make out the distant
sounds.  The scent of jasmine passed briefly through his nose as Salma
stood next to him. ?How does it look?? Ayden asked ignoring the scent.
Salma took a deep breath.  ?It?s run down, that?s for sure.  I can?t
believe no one has lived here for years.? ?My family still owns it, but
after my grandfather?s death, no one wanted to do anything about it.?
Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the dilapidated Victorian
house.  He dug in his pockets for the rusty key he had found in his
father?s office.  As he inserted the heavy key in the lock, a quiet
click was heard.  Ayden pushed the solid door open.  He looked in
Salma?s direction before stepping inside.  Shutting the door, the house
engulfed all sound like a tomb. ?Creepy,? Salma said as she shivered.
Ayden walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide so as to
not run into anything.  Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as he
inhaled. ?This has been sitting for years,? Ayden rasped.  ?What?s it
look like?? Salma looked around.  ?It?s really dark, but it?s almost
completely empty.  What do you think you?ll find?? ?I?m not sure.
Sheriff Jenkins wasn?t much help.  I just thought, maybe something??
Salma?s sandals clipped-clopped as she walked over to a window to open
it.  ?Well, if we are going to be here long we need fresh air.? Ayden
felt a rush of summer breeze as the window clambered up.  The sound of
kids jumping rope ruined the house?s stolid silence.  Life entered the
house again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue. Salma
clumped up the stairs as Ayden moved from room to room feeling walls and
any remaining furniture, hoping to find something, anything.  He rifled
through drawers and cupboards.  So far his hands had only found dust and
cobwebs. ?Ayden, Ayden!? Salma shouted a couple of hours later. Ayden
hurried towards the staircase.  ?Salma!  Are you okay?? ?Get up here!  I
found something!? Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.  Reaching the
top, he shouted, ?What room?? ?Um, it?s a bedroom.? Hearing her voice
off to his left, Ayden moved down the hallway.  At the end, he found a
door open. ?Salma?? Salma?s clapping sandals moved towards Ayden. ?Look
at this,? she said excitedly.  Her bracelet tinkled and paper crackled
as she shoved something in Ayden?s hand. Ayden grinned.  ?Um??  He
handed the paper back to Salma. ?Oh-sorry.  I just-you won?t believe
this.? It was another letter; a love letter to Henry. Henry, My love, I
miss you.  I grow restless with each day.  I have waited years to be
with you, really be with you.  Let?s stop the pretending, stop the lies.
Don?t be mad with me.  I would do anything for you, but we must stop
hiding.  There is no harm in this.  I will wait to hear from you, but
don?t take long. Love,
A.     W.
Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath.  Ayden was not
quite sure what her excitement was for. ?We already know Henry was
having an affair of sorts,? he said. Salma sighed impatiently.  ?Ayden,
think about it.  Don?t you see?? ?Not really,? he said slowly. She
grabbed his wrist.  Her slender fingers gripped him with a strength
Ayden would not have guessed at.  She moved in closer and once again,
Ayden took in the scent of jasmine.  This time he smelled something else
with it.  Vanilla, he thought.  Salma shook his arm slightly bringing
him back to attention. ?Ayden, A. W.  Don?t you see it yet?? ?A. W.??
?The initials,? she said exasperated, ?A. W.  Alice Whitley.? ?Who?s
Alice Whitley?? Salma smacked her forehead.  ?Ay-where are your notes
from today?? Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from his back
pocket. ?Now read through it,? Salma said as though talking to a small
child. Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked sharply up
at Salma. ?See?? Salma asked. ?I can?t believe we didn?t realize it
then.  His secretary.  And Sheriff Jenkins said she?s still living in
town.? ?Think we can find her?? ?Give me a minute,? Ayden said reaching
for his mobile phone tucked away in his pocket. An electronic hum came
from his phone as he maneuvered through the menus on his phone.  A
screen-reading program specific to mobile phones, helped Ayden utilize
the functions on his phone. ?Got it.  There?s only one Alice Whitley
that shows up in town.? ?Thank God for technology,? Salma said.  ?No
wonder no one could ever solve this case.? Ayden smirked at her.  ?Thank
God for accessible technology.  Come on.  She doesn?t live far from here
and it?s not too late.?
 
Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door.  The house was
less substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described its
well-kempt lawn and cheery exterior. The door opened and a woman?s voice
gasped, ?Oh.? ?Miss Whitley?  I?m Ayden-? ?Templeton,? she said.  ?You
look like Henry.? Smiling, Ayden said, ?Miss Whitley, this is my friend
Salma.  We?re working on a book about my grandfather, and we would like
to ask you some questions.? ?Oh, of course.  Come in, come in.? As the
door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower scent that he
couldn?t place and a clock ticked nearby.  Alice Whitley ushered them
into a sitting room off the entryway.  Salma sat next to Ayden on the
soft couch while Alice sat across from them. ?Can I offer you anything?
I just made lemonade.? ?That would be wonderful,? Salma said. As Alice
left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma.  ?I?m sorry, I didn?t even
think to ask if you were hungry.? ?Hon, it?s okay.  I didn?t think about
it myself until now.? ?We?ll have dinner after this; I promise.?
?Promise?? Ayden grinned as Alice returned.  She placed an ice-cold
glass in Ayden?s hand.  Ice chinked against the side as he took a gulp.
The cold liquid felt good down his throat after the dust of his family?s
house.  He could only imagine how dirty he and Salma looked.  He felt
the mingled grime of sweat and dirt on his body.  Why had it not
occurred to them to stop somewhere first and wash up, Ayden thought.
?So, what can I help you with?  Henry was a dear friend and I miss him.
You must call me Alice.? ?Well, Alice, we specifically are interested in
his death,? Ayden said. Alice choked on her lemonade.  ?Why would you be
interested in that?? ?I believe that maybe his death wasn?t accidental.?
?Oh dear, don?t buy into those silly rumors.  Pete Jenkins conducted a
thorough investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at.? ?And yet
the rumors persist,? Ayden said. ?Silly gossip.  Housewives bored out of
there minds.? ?You know Sheriff Jenkins?? Ayden asked. ?Darling, it?s a
town of ten-thousand; everybody knows everybody.? Ayden sipped on his
lemonade as Salma clicked her nails against the side of her glass. ?We
have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story,? Ayden said.
He affected his best courtroom demeanor.  He had seen his father like
this hundreds of times. Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her glass.
Her voice had lost some of its cheeriness when she responded by asking,
?What makes you say that?? Ayden found the love letter in a folder.  He
removed the Braille label, setting the letter on the coffee table
dividing Ayden and Salma from Alice. The room grew still.  The letter
rustled as Alice picked it up.  When she spoke, she sounded choked as
though she were holding back tears. ?Where did you find this?? ?It was
in some old boxes in the Templeton home,? Salma said. A long silence
followed in which Ayden could hear Alice sniffling. ?I suppose the truth
has to come out sooner or later,? Alice said quietly. ?We don?t
need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason to think Henry was
killed?? Ayden soothed. ?Your grandfather hired me when I was eighteen,?
Alice began, ignoring Ayden.  ?I instantly fell in love with him, but he
was that type.  Dashingly handsome, charming to a fault.  He was a few
years older than me, but I knew how all the girls waited for their
chance to rope Henry into marriage.  I felt so lucky to see him
everyday.  I started out as a simple receptionist, but eventually he
promoted me to his personal secretary.? ?Did you move with my
grandparents then, when they moved?? Ayden asked. Alice sighed.  ?Yes,
but after-things happened-I moved back.  I remained in his employ,
working from the office here in town.  Before your father took charge,
Henry?s headquarters had always been based from here.? Ayden nodded his
head. ?I never meant to hurt anyone.  Things happened.  Henry loved us
both, Lucy and I.  I tried to end it for years, but Henry always showed
up with that smile of his.  Then I tried to make him choose.  I
should?ve known better, but I was in love.? Alice continued to spill her
story, hoping for redemption perhaps. ?The final straw came right before
his death.  We had carried on for almost forty-years and I knew it had
to stop.  We fought.  I threatened to tell Lucy and that was that.  He
left me promising to choose.  I waited for an answer, but a week later,
Henry was found dead.? ?Did you ever tell anyone?? Ayden asked. ?No.?
 
Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice?s house.  A breeze
tousled Ayden?s hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through his
dark tresses. ?Seems like all you Templeton men are irresistible,? she
said teasingly. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he grinned, but
before he could make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click open.  He
slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding. ?You promised me dinner,?
Salma whined playfully.
 
After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and Salma found
themselves walking through the downtown area.  Salma kept up with
Ayden?s stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc. ?Sometimes I
think it would be nice to live in a small town,? Salma mused. ?Really,
you?  Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day,? Ayden joked. ?I could
drive to the city.  I don?t know.  It seems like a nice place to raise a
family.? Ayden had never heard Salma speak about kids or families.  As
well as he knew her, Ayden realized there was plenty he still had to
learn about Salma. ?Yes, we could raise happy little kids who will grow
up to cheat, lie and murder,? Ayden scoffed. ?We, huh?? Ayden blushed,
feeling the heat creep up his neck to his face.  He hadn?t caught his
blunder.  He sputtered, but before he could make sense of his words,
Salma grabbed his hand. ?Maybe we can live in the Templeton mansion,?
she said. They walked silently back to the car. ?It?s pretty late, what
should we do?? Salma asked. Ayden flipped the crystal face of his watch
up.  Feeling the raised dots and arrows with his pointer finger on his
Braille watch, he said, ?It?s a quarter to eleven.  I?m beat.? ?Me too.
I don?t really feel like driving back tonight though.? Ayden scratched
his head.  ?I guess we can stay at casa-de-Templeton.? ?Okay, but no
funny business,? Salma joked. Sitting in the car, Ayden said, ?By the
way, unlike some men in my family, I?m more of a one-woman type.?
 
They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master bedroom.
?Sure you don?t want to sleep in another room?? Ayden asked. ?Hell no!
This house is creepy.? ?I thought you wanted to raise children here??
?Shut-up.  Scared to sleep with a girl??  The bed creaked as Salma lay
down on it.  ?A bit musty.? They had found spare bed linens in a box and
had attempted to shake them out as best they could.  Ayden had noticed a
lingering wispy scent of flowers that he could not place.  It may have
been the remnants of something used to launder the linens years ago, he
had thought. Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and handed it to
Salma.  ?Here.  You can wrap your pillow in it.? ?Thanks,? Salma said
drawing the word out. Realizing what he had just done, he blushed for
the millionth time that day.  Not able to turn back what he had done,
Ayden lay slowly down, sticking close to the edge. ?Keep your hands
above the blankets,? Salma yawned.
 
Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly dawned as he
felt Salma?s small body nestled against his.  She snored quietly and
Ayden smiled.  This was nice, he thought.  He extracted himself gently
from the bed, trying to not wake Salma. He needed to use the bathroom,
but it struck him that the bathrooms would not be in working order.  It
was primitive, but it would have to do, he thought as he found his way
downstairs and out into the back garden.  Hoping no neighbors were awake
to see him, he relieved himself. Half asleep still, his eyes snapped
open as a slight shuffle came from behind him.  Finished with his
midnight chore, he listened intently, but no sound came again.  He
turned around, gripping his cane in one hand. ?Hello,? he said. No
response came.  He turned back towards the house and as he walked, Ayden
felt his back tingle.  It was the sensation he felt as a child when
terrified, feeling a presence behind him.  He was an adult now, he
chided himself.  Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the house, he
reached the French doors and entered.  As he went to shut the doors, a
soft shuffle started in the darkness again.  It could have been the long
dead foliage rustling in the breeze, but Ayden placed himself in the
doorway again.  The noise instantly stopped. Slamming the door and
locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs, taking three steps at a time.
Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, Ayden felt a cool breeze cut
through the stuffy air of the bedroom.  DeMint, he swore to himself.
They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping to air out their
lodgings for the night. Salma still was sleeping peacefully on the bed.
He sat on the bed resting his head on the large carved headboard,
listening. Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the leaves of
trees from time to time.  Salma continued her snoring.  Silence loomed
around the house.  Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again or a
step on the stairs, but nothing came.  He relaxed after fifteen minutes
of vigilante guarding. Laying back down on the bed, one arm behind his
head, he smiled when Salma threw an arm across his chest.  Thinking only
of Salma by now, Ayden drifted back off to sleep.
 
The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something was not
right.  Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but an acrid
odor filled his nostrils.  A loud crack made him bolt up in bed. ?Salma!
There?s a fire!?  He shook her until she woke up. ?We need to get out of
here,? Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience state. Ayden
flew to the open door.  Smoke filled his nose and made his eyes water.
?Salma, I can?t tell if we can make it down the stairs.? Standing next
to him, she said, ?All I can see is smoke.  Can we jump out the window??
?We?re on the second floor.  It?s pretty high up.? Now across the room,
Ayden heard Salma cry, ?Oh-my-god!  Ayden!? ?What?? ?I can see flames
around the base of the house.? ?Shit.?  Trying to think, Ayden gathered
up the sheet from the bed.  Dousing it with water from the couple
bottles purchased last night, he threw the sheet at Salma.  ?Wrap
yourself in this.? ?Why?? ?Just do it.? Making sure her long hair was
covered, Ayden threw Salma over his shoulder.  Grabbing his cane by the
door, he moved into the hallway.  Hoping the shirt tied around his face
would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top of the stairs.  Despite the
situation, Ayden could not help notice the harlequin-romance-like
predicament. He heard Salma say something, but her face was muffled and
he could not understand her.  Tucking his cane underneath his arm, he
groped the banister which still seemed intact.  Finally reaching the
bottom, he found his way to the front door and opened it.  A rush of
fresh air greeted him.  Feeling heat, he hoped he could make it off the
porch.  At the top of the stairs, panicked, he placed Salma upright
again.  She struggled to loosen the sheet around her. ?Are the flames
here too?? Ayden asked. ?No, but there coming from behind.? At the end
of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone.  Neighbors could be heard
coming from their own houses.  A few ran up to Ayden and Salma asking if
they were okay. Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the roar of
flames.  Salma held his hand as they waited in silence for the sound of
sirens.
 
Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins?s police cruiser.
The mid-morning sun warmed his face.  Still shirtless, a blanket draped
his shoulders.  A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he could still
smell the smoke embracing his body. Once the firemen had extinguished
the fire, Sheriff Jenkins and his deputy, a man about Ayden?s age, drove
Salma and Ayden to the police station.  Each gave a report before Nick
was contacted. Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of water.  He
gulped the cool liquid down as Salma rested her head against his
shoulder.  Sniffing her hair laced with a flower scent and smoke, Ayden
protectively placed an arm around her. ?Ayden,? Salma said in quiet
surprise, ?Alice Whitley is here.? Ayden pulled the blanket closed as he
waited for Alice to approach.  A new scent filled his nostrils.  This
too smelled of flowers, but it was not the framiliar jasmine and vanilla
Salma wore.  Through the fog of his brain, he tried to place where he
had smelled this scent before. ?I?m glad you two are alright,? Alice
spoke quietly.  ?I can?t believe this.  Do you need anything?? ?Thank
you, but we?re okay,? Salma said warmly. ?Pete phoned me this morning-?
?Sheriff Jenkins?  Why?? Ayden asked. Alice didn?t respond. Waiting for
an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower scent that had lingered
in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens. ?Alice, did you
visit the house after we left you yesterday?? Alice made a noise as
though she were suppressing it in her throat.  She never answered and
before Ayden could ask anything else, he heard her muffled footsteps on
the grass as she walked briskly away. ?Ayden?? Salma puzzled. ?Her
perfume, it?s the same smell I noticed in the closet last night.?
?Ayden, that?s where I found the letter too,? Salma whispered.? Ayden
heard the swish of grass as someone else walked towards them.  It was
Nick. ?Are you crazy?? Nick asked, bewildered. ?I?m fine.  Nice to see
you too, Dad.? Nick let out a long breath before saying, ?Your mother
and I went crazy when we heard what happened.  We?re glad you?re okay.?
?Is the house ruined?? Ayden asked. Salma shifted and sat upright next
to Ayden. ?It?s mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is damage
to the house.? Ayden felt his chest tighten.  The garden had been Lucy?s
favorite place.  Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall
bushes as Lucy tended to her beloved flowers.  Interrupting his
thoughts, Ayden heard a shuffling footstep approach.  Another memory
pushed itself front and center in his mind.  As Sheriff Jenkins stopped
his pace, Ayden gave him a hard look. ?Tom says it will take a few weeks
to get reports back, but there is some structural damage to the house,
Nick,? the sheriff said. ?Taken any midnight strolls to clear your mind
lately?? Ayden directed to Sheriff Jenkins. No one spoke.  Salma gripped
his hand. ?Any reason why you?d call Alice Whitley early this morning??
Ayden continued. ?Drop it,? Nick hissed at Ayden. Thrown off by Nick?s
tone, Ayden squeezed Salma?s hand, unsure what to do. ?I?m sure we?re
all tired and need to collect our thoughts,? Sheriff Jenkins said.
?Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick.?  Ayden heard the
lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
 
 
Ayden sat in front of the computer.  A buzz issued from the speakers as
JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command Ayden
typed. ?Still working?? Salma asked from behind. Ayden leaned his head
back against her stomach.  She was wrapped in a large soft towel.  He
slipped his hand through the folds, but she turned swiftly away,
laughing. Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.  ?That
just turns me on more.? ?I called you a great big moron whose brain is
the size of his-? ?Doesn?t matter.  Still sounds sexy.? Salma whipped
another towel at him before scampering to the bedroom.  Turning back to
his work, Ayden decided to check his email. As he clicked on the
necessary links using Hotkey commands, he thought over the past few
weeks. Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said that
everything was circumstantial.  Ayden knew this, but he also knew he had
opened something up.  Something that had been meant to remain secret.
Nick refused to open any investigation and he remained tight-lipped
about anything he knew. The fire was officially reported as an unknown
accident since no evidence, either way, had been found determining a
cause.  This, at least, was how the police report read.  Ayden, though,
had inquired into the fire-chief?s report.  It too was inconclusive, but
this report did mention that a match book had been found near the
premises.  Salma had advised Ayden to wait before attempting any further
investigation. Salma had been the reason he was able to let the weeks
slip by without searching for more clues.  Once they had returned to the
city, Ayden had found the courage to express his budding feelings
towards Salma. They had sat on the couch talking; a typical Friday night
for them, except this time Ayden could feel a growing anticipation
between them.  Salma had stood to get another beer from the kitchen when
Ayden reached for her wrist.  His large palm had felt bigger next to her
slim wrist.  Both had stared silently at one another.  Ayden, thinking
he would win this game since he couldn?t see, broke first.  Grinning
with a smirk, he had pulled Salma to him and kissed her. Three weeks
later, their routine was continued as normal, yet something was
different.  They had transitioned into this new element with ease, as
though it were meant to be.  Their friendship was strengthened by the
new romance. Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name given
for the first email he came across.  Opening it up, he read the
following: Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you
stop your investigation immediately.  Heartache and harm can only befall
you.  Thank your luck and live long and well with your beautiful new
love. There was no signature.  Alarmed, Ayden checked the From field,
but the only information this provided was aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden?s pulse quickened.  Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the room,
he closed the window he was in.  He thought it was best to not alarm her
just yet. Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear hug,
Ayden knew this was just the beginning.
  		 	   		  

------------------------------

Message: 2
Date: Thu, 7 Oct 2010 22:58:25 -0500
From: Priscilla McKinley <priscilla.mckinley at gmail.com>
To: "Writer's Division Mailing List" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
	language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID:
	<AANLkTi=iDNLqd5JgFQGiLT8M3UKuuWAS2HjBP-P0NnBH at mail.gmail.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset=windows-1252

Bridgit,

I really enjoyed reading your piece.  I was very much engaged by the
story.  The only part I had issues with was the beginning.  It seems as
though too much history is packed into a few paragraphs.  Perhaps you
could incorporate some of the details in other parts and introduce the
characters and stories as they come up?  Plus, it might be interesting
to let your readers wonder for a while what is going on, leading them in
to discover that they are in the middle of an amateur murder
investigation.

Nice work!

Priscilla



On 10/7/10, Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com> wrote:
>
> Hey guys,
>
> I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an upper lit 
> credit. We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would share 
> mine with you. Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also, I 
> wrote it in about a 12-our time span.  Yes, I'm a procrastinator!  
> *smile*
>
> It was fun though so enjoy.
>
> Bridgit P
>
> Sense of Murder
>
> Ayden sat in his father?s leather wingback chair rolling a large key 
> between his fingers.  The metal key had been cold, but now was warmed 
> by his hands. He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb across

> the rough , rusty surface.  Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been 
> researching the mysterious death of his grandfather for a book he was 
> writing.  Now, he sat among items wondering if his grandfather had 
> been murdered. Ayden?s father, Nick, had found Henry, his grandfather,

> lying at the bottom of the staircase in his home.  Nick never spoke 
> about the incident after reporting it to the police.  He would not 
> speak to Ayden about Henry?s death either, but he was allowing Ayden 
> and Salma to search through any items Nick kept. No one had been sure 
> what happened.  Lucy, Ayden?s grandmother, had been present too when 
> Henry?s body was found.  The police recorded the death as an 
> accidental fall.  Many silently pointed fingers at Lucy though. Lucy 
> had grown distraught during the past few months before Henry?s death. 
> Friends and family reported that she had been distracted often or in 
> an irritated mood.  This was unlike the warm and tender grandmother 
> Ayden had grown up with. When Nick found his father?s body, Lucy had 
> gone wild, screaming, unable to leave Henry?s lifeless body.  
> Eventually Nick placed her in a care home. Here Lucy had reached an 
> almost catatonic state until she too had passed. Gossips spread the 
> news, sweeping far and wide.  Lucy was crazy, they said. She went mad,

> she killed her husband.  It was juicy, just what a small town needed.

> The police never looked into the possibility, but Lucy died with a 
> scarlet letter attached to her memory.  Ayden could never believe that

> Lucy would hurt anyone.  Lucy had been fond of Ayden, guiding him, 
> encouraging him.  ?You?re so full of potential, Ayden.  I can see fire

> in your eyes,? she used to tell him.  When Ayden lost his vision, Lucy

> had been the one person who supported him, still encouraging. For 
> years, though,  there had been whispers of foul play, but no one ever 
> spoke about the rumors.  Vague insinuations were the closest anyone 
> came to mentioning ?murder.?  Ayden, though, had never played by the 
> rules.  His mother referred to him as the ?black sheep of the family? 
> whenever she threw a dinner party.  Ayden never felt like he fit in 
> his family?s world of snobbish dinner parties, elite country clubs and

> preferential treatment at most Ivy League universities.  He had 
> already been a disappointment to his family before a car accident left

> him blind.  Seven-years later, Ayden had come to terms with his 
> blindness, but his family accepted him only out of duty.  His father 
> had been clear when saying, ?This condition of yours is not suitable 
> for the courtroom, but the firm can take you on in a capacity for 
> research, perhaps.  Maybe a paralegal position will be suitable.? 
> Ayden was not able to live with this attitude hanging over him.  After

> completing his bachelor?s in literature, Ayden took up a career 
> writing for any newspapers or journals that accepted his entries.  
> Writing for a small literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his 
> novel which had turned into a fictionalized account of his 
> grandfather?s death.  Asking his father for any information about his 
> grandfather?s life, was the reason Ayden now sat in his father?s 
> study.  He found more, he thought,  than his father knew about though.

> ?So what?s next?? Salma asked.  Salma lived across the hall from Ayden

> in his building.  They had become friends, and Salma now was helping 
> him research his grandfather?s life. Tapping the key in his palm, 
> Ayden said, ?I?m not sure.  This letter says a lot.? Ayden closed his 
> eyes thinking on this letter.  It was evidence, even if 
> circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew about it, she could have 
> killed Henry. There was a pause then paper crackled before Salma 
> spoke.  ?It?s pretty clear from this letter that your grandfather was 
> having an affair.  I wonder if we can figure out these initials, A. 
> W.? Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to remember anyone he had 
> ever met with A. W. for initials.  ?I don?t know,? he sighed.
> As Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they had found
an old
> copy of Wuthering Heights.  Ayden remembered the year Henry had given
the
> third edition book to Lucy for Christmas.  Lucy had sat unwrapping the
gift,
> then exclaimed, ?Oh,? before looking up with tears in her eyes.
Wuthering
> Heights had always been her favorite novel.  Lucy had been the one
person to
> encourage Ayden to follow his dream and take up writing instead of
joining
> the family law firm.  ?You?re meant to follow your own path,? Lucy had
told
> Ayden once.  Twenty-years later, Ayden and Salma found a letter
enclosed in
> the pages of the book.
> Ayden touched the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it out to
Salma
> to inspect.  She told him the letter appeared old, but not as old as
the
> book.  A few of the torn edges of the letter were turning yellow.  The
> letter was simple as she read:
> Henry, my love,
> I can not wait to see you again.  I hoped and when I saw you coming
down the
> road, my heart leaped.  I still feel your touch.  How much longer must
we
> wait?  Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is too late.
> Love, A. W.
> ?What now?  Where do we go next?? Salma asked.
> Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him.  ?We visit the
old
> Templeton mansion.?
> The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home Henry and Lucy had lived
in for
> years.  The family still owned it, but it had sat empty for years.
Ayden
> thought that maybe more secrets were hidden within the walls of the
> Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
>
>
>
> Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove.  Neither spoke as Ayden?s fingers

> slid across the pages on his lap.  Reading his Braille notes, Ayden 
> wondered where to start once they reached the small town where his 
> grandparents and father had grown up.  Henry had started a small law 
> firm in town, but eventually it grew.  Henry and Lucy had moved when 
> Nick had been ten.  Nick never spoke about his childhood though.  
> Ayden really didn?t know much about his family?s past.  Lucy and Henry

> had moved back to their old house once Nick took the firm over, but 
> Ayden had rarely visited the home.  After Henry had died, Lucy, unable

> to cope with his death, had moved into an upscale nursing home in the 
> City, and Nick left the house untouched.  The house had sat empty now 
> for ten years. As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma.  ?Are we 
> there?? ?Yes.  What?s our first stop?? ?I?m  figuring this out as we 
> go along.  I guess the police station.? Salma was silent before 
> saying, ?You okay?  I know your dad wasn?t happy.? Ayden had 
> questioned his father about the letter, but Nick had gone quiet and 
> cold before telling Ayden, ?Leave it alone.  We don?t dig up family 
> history.? Ayden tried to coax Nick to say more, but the subject was 
> closed. ?Yeah.  I wish he would have told us more.  Explained 
> something,? Ayden said.
> ?Maybe he just wants to keep your family secrets, well, secret.  Some
people
> don?t like giving out info about anything.?
> ?I just feel like he knows more than he?s letting on.  Mom just played
dumb
> too.?
> ?We?ll find something.  Don?t worry.?
> Salma was always reassuring Ayden.  She had become a constant in his
life.
> The only real constant he had.  She had shown up one day, knocking on
his
> door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some home made
enchiladas.
>  That had been the beginning of their friendship.  They had spent many
> nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on weekends.
> Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.  Once
moving
> away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts.  He showed up
to the
> office for work, attended cocktail parties required for work and even
dated
> a couple of girls, but Salma was the one person he truly felt
comfortable
> with.  Her infectious way of always looking at things positively
seemed like
> a novelty to Ayden.  She could always make him smile.  When he began
writing
> the book about Henry, Salma had offered to assist in anyway she could.
> ?I?m really glad you?re here,? Ayden said.
>
> ?Yeah, yeah.  I?m waiting for my pay check.?  Salma giggled as she 
> pulled into a parking stall.  ?I think we?re here.? While Salma 
> dropped coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane along the 
> brick walls looking for the door.  Hearing the clink of glass as his 
> cane tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door. ?No Braille, is this 
> it?? he shouted back to Salma. ?I believe so,? she answered rushing to

> catch up. They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the 
> police station. Ayden moved towards the sound of  clacking as some one

> pressed keys on a computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency.  
> This, he thought, must be a reception desk.
> Stepping up to a smooth feeling counter, Ayden said, ?Excuse me.?
> ?Can I help you?? a woman?s bored voice said.
> ?We were wondering if we can speak to some one who worked the Henry
> Templeton case,? Ayden said.
> The woman stopped typing and a long silence followed.  ?Who?s
asking??
> ?I?m Ayden Templeton, Henry?s grandson.?
> ?One minute.?  A chair creaked as the woman stood.  Her shoes clacked
as she
> walked away.
> Salma touched Ayden?s arm.  ?She had a weird look when you mentioned
your
> grandpa?s name.?
> Ayden said nothing, not sure what he was doing there in the first
place.
> The woman?s shoes clacked once more as she returned.  Another footstep
> joined hers, but this person shuffled slightly.
> The person shuffled towards Salma, saying, ?Hello.  I?m Sheriff
Jenkins.
> How can I help you??
> Ayden stepped closer towards Salma, extending his arm to Sheriff
Jenkins.
> ?I?m Ayden Templeton and this is Salma Juarez.  We have some questions
about
> my grandfather?s death.?
> There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins shook Ayden?s hand.  ?Step
into my
> office please.?
> Ayden followed the sheriff into a room off the main section of the
> department.  His cane swep the inside of the door frame, indicating
the
> width so Ayden avoided bumping into the edges of the frame.  Ayden
asked
> where a chair was and turned in the direction Captain Jenkins
indicated.
> Once again, his cane found the chair and sliding the cane across the
seat,
> Ayden determined where the front of the chair was.  Salma?s arm
brushed his
> as she sat next to him.
> ?Can I get you anything?? Sheriff Jenkins asked.
> ?No, but thank you.  Salma??
> ?I?m good,? Salma replied.
> Ayden felt a tension fill the room as the three sat there, not
speaking.
> Sheriff Jenkins began tapping the edge of the metal table in the
> interrogation room.  Ayden twisted his cane between his fingers.
Salma
> bobbed her foot which was lightly kicking Ayden?s shin.
> ?We?re hoping to learn as much as we can about Henry Templeton?s
death.  I?m
> researching the story for a novel I?m working on,? Ayden started.
> ?I worked the case.  There?s not much to tell,? Sheriff Jenkins said.
> ?I know you eventually reported it as an accidental death, but was
there
> ever any evidence suggesting otherwise?? Ayden asked.
> ?No.  We questioned friends and family and there was no reason to
believe
> Henry Templeton was murdered,? Sheriff Jenkins said sharply.
> Ayden shifted his head towards Salma before saying, ?I know there
> was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it.?
> ?Lucy Baldwin?  She never hurt anyone.  We were all shocked when she
married
> Henry.  She could have had anyone she wanted.?
> Ayden leaned against the table looking straight in the direction where
> Sheriff Jenkins sat.  ?I thought Henry was a catch?  You know, a
lawyer from
> a wealthy family.?
> ?He was a playboy.  Always was, never changed.?
> ?Who did you question about his death?? Salma broke in.
> The sheriff?s chair creaked as he leaned back.  ?Well, of course Lucy
and
> her boy Nick.  They were there.  Found his body and all.?
> Ayden shot the sheriff a questioning glance.  He was talking like he
had
> forgot who Ayden was.
> ?Then there was Zelda, the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he came
around
> about once a week to help Lucy with the lawn.  She loved her garden.
Her
> roses won prizes around here,? Sheriff Jenkins continued.
> ?Anyone else?? Ayden asked.
> ?Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so they didn?t see
much of
> him anymore.  Alice Whitley, she had been his personal secretary for
years.
> She still did stuff part-time for Henry.?
> Ayden had pulled out a three-by-five plastic device that had six rows
of
> cells containing three holes on each side of the cells.  A pop-pop-pop
sound
> was made as Ayden poked a pointed awl-like object called a stylus
through
> the holes as he took Braille notes.  ?Are any of these people still
around??
> ?Not everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton?s to leave
town.
> Other than Henry?s work associates, I think most of them still live
around
> here.  At least the one?s who are still alive.?
> ?Is there anything else you can tell us?  Was there anything strange
you
> noticed?  Any evidence that suggest something other than an accidental
> tumble down the stairs??
> The sheriff laughed.  ?I know you city folk like to dream up seedy
> happenings in small towns, but Henry Templeton?s death was nothing
more than
> an accident.  Nothing dark about it.?
> ?Thank you for your time,? Ayden said extending his hand again to
shake
> Sheriff Jenkins?s.
> Sheriff Jenkins sighed.  ?Look, don?t go digging anything up.  Just
let the
> dead rest.?
> Salma?s bracelet tinkled as they stood.
> ?We understand.  I?m just trying to find things out about my
grandfather for
> the book.  You know, no stone uncovered,? Ayden said.
> ?Are you two married?? Sheriff Jenkins asked.
> Ayden, confused by the switch, replied, ?No.?
> The sheriff chuckled.  ?Like your grandpa, I see.?
> Ayden blushed, but Salma said, ?Ayden is nothing but a gentleman.
Clearly
> something he did not pick up in this town.?
> ?I know the kind of men the Templeton?s are,? the sheriff said.
> Unsure of what to do, Ayden turned to leave.
> ?At least he has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring
> this whole time,? Salma snapped.  She turned quickly and Ayden felt a
rush
> of breeze as she left the room.
>
> Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
> ?I?m sorry.  I didn?t know what to say.?
> ?It?s okay.  He was a pig.?
> ?I didn?t realize-?
> ?I know, its okay.  Where to next??
> Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone.  ?The house, I

> guess.? As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of traffic, 
> Ayden wondered why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.  Was it 
> simply said in a moment of anger, or was there any truth in her words,

> he thought.  He has a better chance of touching what you have been 
> admiring.  For the first time, Ayden thought of the possibilities with

> Salma.
>
>
> Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it had been 
> during the few visits he had made during his childhood.  The house had

> always stood out even among the street full of bright, cheery houses 
> complete with emerald lawns and award winning gardens.  The Templeton 
> house had a wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening onto 
> a large lawn complete with a British garden.  Its three stories 
> reached majestically towards the sky.
>
>
> Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house.  The feel of

> the railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark wooden 
> banister. The stairs creaked as he stepped on them.  Reaching the 
> porch, he felt a slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear of 
> falling through the porch.  Children played nearby and cars languidly 
> drove down the street, but a strange silence surrounded the house.  It

> was as though Ayden were underneath water trying to make out the 
> distant sounds.  The scent of jasmine passed briefly through his nose 
> as Salma stood next to him. ?How does it look?? Ayden asked ignoring 
> the scent. Salma took a deep breath.  ?It?s run down, that?s for sure.

> I can?t believe no one has lived here for years.? ?My family still 
> owns it, but after my grandfather?s death, no one wanted to do 
> anything about it.? Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the 
> dilapidated Victorian house.  He dug in his pockets for the rusty key 
> he had found in his father?s office.  As he inserted the heavy key in 
> the lock, a quiet click was heard. Ayden pushed the solid door open.  
> He looked in Salma?s direction before stepping inside.  Shutting the 
> door, the house engulfed all sound like a tomb.
> ?Creepy,? Salma said as she shivered.
> Ayden walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide so as to
not
> run into anything.  Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as he
inhaled.
> ?This has been sitting for years,? Ayden rasped.  ?What?s it look
like??
> Salma looked around.  ?It?s really dark, but it?s almost completely
empty.
> What do you think you?ll find??
> ?I?m not sure.  Sheriff Jenkins wasn?t much help.  I just thought,
maybe
> something??
> Salma?s sandals clipped-clopped as she walked over to a window to open
it.
> ?Well, if we are going to be here long we need fresh air.?
> Ayden felt a rush of summer breeze as the window clambered up.  The
sound of
> kids jumping rope ruined the house?s stolid silence.  Life entered the
house
> again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue.
> Salma clumped up the stairs as Ayden moved from room to room feeling
walls
> and any remaining furniture, hoping to find something, anything.  He
rifled
> through drawers and cupboards.  So far his hands had only found dust
and
> cobwebs.
> ?Ayden, Ayden!? Salma shouted a couple of hours later.
> Ayden hurried towards the staircase.  ?Salma!  Are you okay??
> ?Get up here!  I found something!?
> Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.  Reaching the top, he shouted,
?What
> room??
> ?Um, it?s a bedroom.?
> Hearing her voice off to his left, Ayden moved down the hallway.  At
the
> end, he found a door open.
> ?Salma??
> Salma?s clapping sandals moved towards Ayden.
> ?Look at this,? she said excitedly.  Her bracelet tinkled and paper
crackled
> as she shoved something in Ayden?s hand.
> Ayden grinned.  ?Um??  He handed the paper back to Salma.
> ?Oh-sorry.  I just-you won?t believe this.?
> It was another letter; a love letter to Henry.
> Henry, My love,
> I miss you.  I grow restless with each day.  I have waited years to be
with
> you, really be with you.  Let?s stop the pretending, stop the lies.
Don?t
> be mad with me.  I would do anything for you, but we must stop hiding.
> There is no harm in this.  I will wait to hear from you, but don?t
take
> long.
> Love,
> A.     W.
> Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath.  Ayden was not
quite
> sure what her excitement was for.
> ?We already know Henry was having an affair of sorts,? he said.
> Salma sighed impatiently.  ?Ayden, think about it.  Don?t you see??
> ?Not really,? he said slowly.
> She grabbed his wrist.  Her slender fingers gripped him with a
strength
> Ayden would not have guessed at.  She moved in closer and once again,
Ayden
> took in the scent of jasmine.  This time he smelled something else
with it.
> Vanilla, he thought.  Salma shook his arm slightly bringing him back
to
> attention.
> ?Ayden, A. W.  Don?t you see it yet??
> ?A. W.??
> ?The initials,? she said exasperated, ?A. W.  Alice Whitley.?
> ?Who?s Alice Whitley??
> Salma smacked her forehead.  ?Ay-where are your notes from today??
> Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from his back pocket.
> ?Now read through it,? Salma said as though talking to a small child.
> Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked sharply up at
Salma.
> ?See?? Salma asked.
> ?I can?t believe we didn?t realize it then.  His secretary.  And
Sheriff
> Jenkins said she?s still living in town.?
> ?Think we can find her??
> ?Give me a minute,? Ayden said reaching for his mobile phone tucked
away in
> his pocket.
> An electronic hum came from his phone as he maneuvered through the
menus on
> his phone.  A screen-reading program specific to mobile phones, helped
Ayden
> utilize the functions on his phone.
> ?Got it.  There?s only one Alice Whitley that shows up in town.?
> ?Thank God for technology,? Salma said.  ?No wonder no one could ever
solve
> this case.?
> Ayden smirked at her.  ?Thank God for accessible technology.  Come on.
She
> doesn?t live far from here and it?s not too late.?
>
> Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door.  The house was 
> less substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described its 
> well-kempt lawn and cheery exterior. The door opened and a woman?s 
> voice gasped, ?Oh.? ?Miss Whitley?  I?m Ayden-?
> ?Templeton,? she said.  ?You look like Henry.?
> Smiling, Ayden said, ?Miss Whitley, this is my friend Salma.  We?re
working
> on a book about my grandfather, and we would like to ask you some
> questions.?
> ?Oh, of course.  Come in, come in.?
> As the door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower scent
that he
> couldn?t place and a clock ticked nearby.  Alice Whitley ushered them
into a
> sitting room off the entryway.  Salma sat next to Ayden on the soft
couch
> while Alice sat across from them.
> ?Can I offer you anything?  I just made lemonade.?
> ?That would be wonderful,? Salma said.
> As Alice left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma.  ?I?m sorry, I
didn?t
> even think to ask if you were hungry.?
> ?Hon, it?s okay.  I didn?t think about it myself until now.?
> ?We?ll have dinner after this; I promise.?
> ?Promise??
> Ayden grinned as Alice returned.  She placed an ice-cold glass in
Ayden?s
> hand.  Ice chinked against the side as he took a gulp.  The cold
liquid felt
> good down his throat after the dust of his family?s house.  He could
only
> imagine how dirty he and Salma looked.  He felt the mingled grime of
sweat
> and dirt on his body.  Why had it not occurred to them to stop
somewhere
> first and wash up, Ayden thought.
> ?So, what can I help you with?  Henry was a dear friend and I miss
him.  You
> must call me Alice.?
> ?Well, Alice, we specifically are interested in his death,? Ayden
said.
> Alice choked on her lemonade.  ?Why would you be interested in that??
> ?I believe that maybe his death wasn?t accidental.?
> ?Oh dear, don?t buy into those silly rumors.  Pete Jenkins conducted a
> thorough investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at.?
> ?And yet the rumors persist,? Ayden said.
> ?Silly gossip.  Housewives bored out of there minds.?
> ?You know Sheriff Jenkins?? Ayden asked.
> ?Darling, it?s a town of ten-thousand; everybody knows everybody.?
> Ayden sipped on his lemonade as Salma clicked her nails against the
side of
> her glass.
> ?We have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story,? Ayden
said.
> He affected his best courtroom demeanor.  He had seen his father like
this
> hundreds of times.
> Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her glass.  Her voice had lost
some of
> its cheeriness when she responded by asking, ?What makes you say
that??
> Ayden found the love letter in a folder.  He removed the Braille
label,
> setting the letter on the coffee table dividing Ayden and Salma from
Alice.
> The room grew still.  The letter rustled as Alice picked it up.  When
she
> spoke, she sounded choked as though she were holding back tears.
> ?Where did you find this??
> ?It was in some old boxes in the Templeton home,? Salma said.
> A long silence followed in which Ayden could hear Alice sniffling.
> ?I suppose the truth has to come out sooner or later,? Alice said
quietly.
> ?We don?t need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason to think
Henry
> was killed?? Ayden soothed.
> ?Your grandfather hired me when I was eighteen,? Alice began, ignoring
> Ayden.  ?I instantly fell in love with him, but he was that type.
Dashingly
> handsome, charming to a fault.  He was a few years older than me, but
I knew
> how all the girls waited for their chance to rope Henry into marriage.
I
> felt so lucky to see him everyday.  I started out as a simple
receptionist,
> but eventually he promoted me to his personal secretary.?
> ?Did you move with my grandparents then, when they moved?? Ayden
asked.
> Alice sighed.  ?Yes, but after-things happened-I moved back.  I
remained in
> his employ, working from the office here in town.  Before your father
took
> charge, Henry?s headquarters had always been based from here.?
> Ayden nodded his head.
> ?I never meant to hurt anyone.  Things happened.  Henry loved us both,
Lucy
> and I.  I tried to end it for years, but Henry always showed up with
that
> smile of his.  Then I tried to make him choose.  I should?ve known
better,
> but I was in love.?
> Alice continued to spill her story, hoping for redemption perhaps.
> ?The final straw came right before his death.  We had carried on for
almost
> forty-years and I knew it had to stop.  We fought.  I threatened to
tell
> Lucy and that was that.  He left me promising to choose.  I waited for
an
> answer, but a week later, Henry was found dead.?
> ?Did you ever tell anyone?? Ayden asked.
> ?No.?
>
> Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice?s house.  A breeze 
> tousled Ayden?s hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through his 
> dark tresses. ?Seems like all you Templeton men are irresistible,? she

> said teasingly. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he grinned, 
> but before he could make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click 
> open.  He slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding. ?You promised 
> me dinner,? Salma whined playfully.
>
> After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and Salma 
> found themselves walking through the downtown area.  Salma kept up 
> with Ayden?s stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc. 
> ?Sometimes I think it would be nice to live in a small town,? Salma 
> mused. ?Really, you?  Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day,? Ayden 
> joked. ?I could drive to the city.  I don?t know.  It seems like a 
> nice place to raise a family.? Ayden had never heard Salma speak about

> kids or families.  As well as he knew her, Ayden realized there was 
> plenty he still had to learn about Salma. ?Yes, we could raise happy 
> little kids who will grow up to cheat, lie and murder,? Ayden scoffed.
> ?We, huh??
> Ayden blushed, feeling the heat creep up his neck to his face.  He
hadn?t
> caught his blunder.  He sputtered, but before he could make sense of
his
> words, Salma grabbed his hand.
> ?Maybe we can live in the Templeton mansion,? she said.
> They walked silently back to the car.
> ?It?s pretty late, what should we do?? Salma asked.
> Ayden flipped the crystal face of his watch up.  Feeling the raised
dots and
> arrows with his pointer finger on his Braille watch, he said, ?It?s a
> quarter to eleven.  I?m beat.?
> ?Me too.  I don?t really feel like driving back tonight though.?
> Ayden scratched his head.  ?I guess we can stay at casa-de-Templeton.?
> ?Okay, but no funny business,? Salma joked.
> Sitting in the car, Ayden said, ?By the way, unlike some men in my
family,
> I?m more of a one-woman type.?
>
> They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master bedroom. 
> ?Sure you don?t want to sleep in another room?? Ayden asked. ?Hell no!

> This house is creepy.? ?I thought you wanted to raise children here??
> ?Shut-up.  Scared to sleep with a girl??  The bed creaked as Salma lay
down
> on it.  ?A bit musty.?
> They had found spare bed linens in a box and had attempted to shake
them out
> as best they could.  Ayden had noticed a lingering wispy scent of
flowers
> that he could not place.  It may have been the remnants of something
used to
> launder the linens years ago, he had thought.
> Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and handed it to Salma.
?Here.
> You can wrap your pillow in it.?
> ?Thanks,? Salma said drawing the word out.
> Realizing what he had just done, he blushed for the millionth time
that day.
>  Not able to turn back what he had done, Ayden lay slowly down,
sticking
> close to the edge.
> ?Keep your hands above the blankets,? Salma yawned.
>
> Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly dawned as 
> he felt Salma?s small body nestled against his.  She snored quietly 
> and Ayden smiled.  This was nice, he thought.  He extracted himself 
> gently from the bed, trying to not wake Salma. He needed to use the 
> bathroom, but it struck him that the bathrooms would not be in working

> order.  It was primitive, but it would have to do, he thought as he 
> found his way downstairs and out into the back garden.  Hoping no 
> neighbors were awake to see him, he relieved himself. Half asleep 
> still, his eyes snapped open as a slight shuffle came from behind him.

> Finished with his midnight chore, he listened intently, but no sound 
> came again.  He turned around, gripping his cane in one hand. ?Hello,?

> he said. No response came.  He turned back towards the house and as he

> walked, Ayden felt his back tingle.  It was the sensation he felt as a

> child when terrified, feeling a presence behind him.  He was an adult 
> now, he chided himself.  Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the 
> house, he reached the French doors and entered.  As he went to shut 
> the doors, a soft shuffle started in the darkness again.  It could 
> have been the long dead foliage rustling in the breeze, but Ayden 
> placed himself in the doorway again.  The noise instantly stopped.
> Slamming the door and locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs, taking
three
> steps at a time.  Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, Ayden
felt a
> cool breeze cut through the stuffy air of the bedroom.  DeMint, he
swore to
> himself.  They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping to air
out
> their lodgings for the night.
> Salma still was sleeping peacefully on the bed.  He sat on the bed
resting
> his head on the large carved headboard, listening.
> Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the leaves of trees
from
> time to time.  Salma continued her snoring.  Silence loomed around the
> house.  Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again or a step on the
> stairs, but nothing came.  He relaxed after fifteen minutes of
vigilante
> guarding.
> Laying back down on the bed, one arm behind his head, he smiled when
Salma
> threw an arm across his chest.  Thinking only of Salma by now, Ayden
drifted
> back off to sleep.
>
> The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something was not

> right.  Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but an acrid

> odor filled his nostrils.  A loud crack made him bolt up in bed. 
> ?Salma!  There?s a fire!?  He shook her until she woke up. ?We need to

> get out of here,? Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience 
> state. Ayden flew to the open door.  Smoke filled his nose and made 
> his eyes water.  ?Salma, I can?t tell if we can make it down the 
> stairs.? Standing next to him, she said, ?All I can see is smoke.  Can

> we jump out the window??
> ?We?re on the second floor.  It?s pretty high up.?
> Now across the room, Ayden heard Salma cry, ?Oh-my-god!  Ayden!?
> ?What??
> ?I can see flames around the base of the house.?
> ?Shit.?  Trying to think, Ayden gathered up the sheet from the bed.
Dousing
> it with water from the couple bottles purchased last night, he threw
the
> sheet at Salma.  ?Wrap yourself in this.?
> ?Why??
> ?Just do it.?
> Making sure her long hair was covered, Ayden threw Salma over his
shoulder.
> Grabbing his cane by the door, he moved into the hallway.  Hoping the
shirt
> tied around his face would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top of the
> stairs.  Despite the situation, Ayden could not help notice the
> harlequin-romance-like predicament.
> He heard Salma say something, but her face was muffled and he could
not
> understand her.  Tucking his cane underneath his arm, he groped the
banister
> which still seemed intact.  Finally reaching the bottom, he found his
way to
> the front door and opened it.  A rush of fresh air greeted him.
Feeling
> heat, he hoped he could make it off the porch.  At the top of the
stairs,
> panicked, he placed Salma upright again.  She struggled to loosen the
sheet
> around her.
> ?Are the flames here too?? Ayden asked.
> ?No, but there coming from behind.?
> At the end of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone.  Neighbors
could be
> heard coming from their own houses.  A few ran up to Ayden and Salma
asking
> if they were okay.
> Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the roar of flames.  Salma
held his
> hand as they waited in silence for the sound of sirens.
>
> Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins?s police cruiser.  
> The mid-morning sun warmed his face.  Still shirtless, a blanket 
> draped his shoulders.  A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he 
> could still smell the smoke embracing his body. Once the firemen had 
> extinguished the fire, Sheriff Jenkins and his deputy, a man about 
> Ayden?s age, drove Salma and Ayden to the police station.  Each gave a

> report before Nick was contacted. Salma approached Ayden now offering 
> a cup of water.  He gulped the cool liquid down as Salma rested her 
> head against his shoulder.  Sniffing her hair laced with a flower 
> scent and smoke, Ayden protectively placed an arm around her.
> ?Ayden,? Salma said in quiet surprise, ?Alice Whitley is here.?
> Ayden pulled the blanket closed as he waited for Alice to approach.  A
new
> scent filled his nostrils.  This too smelled of flowers, but it was
not the
> framiliar jasmine and vanilla Salma wore.  Through the fog of his
brain, he
> tried to place where he had smelled this scent before.
> ?I?m glad you two are alright,? Alice spoke quietly.  ?I can?t believe
this.
>  Do you need anything??
> ?Thank you, but we?re okay,? Salma said warmly.
> ?Pete phoned me this morning-?
> ?Sheriff Jenkins?  Why?? Ayden asked.
> Alice didn?t respond.
> Waiting for an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower scent that
had
> lingered in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens.
> ?Alice, did you visit the house after we left you yesterday??
> Alice made a noise as though she were suppressing it in her throat.
She
> never answered and before Ayden could ask anything else, he heard her
> muffled footsteps on the grass as she walked briskly away.
> ?Ayden?? Salma puzzled.
> ?Her perfume, it?s the same smell I noticed in the closet last night.?
> ?Ayden, that?s where I found the letter too,? Salma whispered.?
> Ayden heard the swish of grass as someone else walked towards them.
It was
> Nick.
> ?Are you crazy?? Nick asked, bewildered.
> ?I?m fine.  Nice to see you too, Dad.?
> Nick let out a long breath before saying, ?Your mother and I went
crazy when
> we heard what happened.  We?re glad you?re okay.?
> ?Is the house ruined?? Ayden asked.
> Salma shifted and sat upright next to Ayden.
> ?It?s mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is damage to the
house.?
> Ayden felt his chest tighten.  The garden had been Lucy?s favorite
place.
> Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall bushes as Lucy
tended
> to her beloved flowers.  Interrupting his thoughts, Ayden heard a
shuffling
> footstep approach.  Another memory pushed itself front and center in
his
> mind.  As Sheriff Jenkins stopped his pace, Ayden gave him a hard
look.
> ?Tom says it will take a few weeks to get reports back, but there is
some
> structural damage to the house, Nick,? the sheriff said.
> ?Taken any midnight strolls to clear your mind lately?? Ayden directed
to
> Sheriff Jenkins.
> No one spoke.  Salma gripped his hand.
> ?Any reason why you?d call Alice Whitley early this morning?? Ayden
> continued.
> ?Drop it,? Nick hissed at Ayden.
> Thrown off by Nick?s tone, Ayden squeezed Salma?s hand, unsure what to
do.
> ?I?m sure we?re all tired and need to collect our thoughts,? Sheriff
Jenkins
> said.  ?Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick.?  Ayden heard
the
> lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
>
>
> Ayden sat in front of the computer.  A buzz issued from the speakers 
> as JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command Ayden

> typed. ?Still working?? Salma asked from behind. Ayden leaned his head

> back against her stomach.  She was wrapped in a large soft towel.  He 
> slipped his hand through the folds, but she turned swiftly away, 
> laughing. Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.  ?That 
> just turns me on more.?
> ?I called you a great big moron whose brain is the size of his-?
> ?Doesn?t matter.  Still sounds sexy.?
> Salma whipped another towel at him before scampering to the bedroom.
> Turning back to his work, Ayden decided to check his email.
> As he clicked on the necessary links using Hotkey commands, he thought
over
> the past few weeks.
> Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said that everything
was
> circumstantial.  Ayden knew this, but he also knew he had opened
something
> up.  Something that had been meant to remain secret.  Nick refused to
open
> any investigation and he remained tight-lipped about anything he knew.
> The fire was officially reported as an unknown accident since no
evidence,
> either way, had been found determining a cause.  This, at least, was
how the
> police report read.  Ayden, though, had inquired into the fire-chief?s
> report.  It too was inconclusive, but this report did mention that a
match
> book had been found near the premises.  Salma had advised Ayden to
wait
> before attempting any further investigation.
> Salma had been the reason he was able to let the weeks slip by without
> searching for more clues.  Once they had returned to the city, Ayden
had
> found the courage to express his budding feelings towards Salma.
> They had sat on the couch talking; a typical Friday night for them,
except
> this time Ayden could feel a growing anticipation between them.  Salma
had
> stood to get another beer from the kitchen when Ayden reached for her
wrist.
>  His large palm had felt bigger next to her slim wrist.  Both had
stared
> silently at one another.  Ayden, thinking he would win this game since
he
> couldn?t see, broke first.  Grinning with a smirk, he had pulled Salma
to
> him and kissed her.
> Three weeks later, their routine was continued as normal, yet
something was
> different.  They had transitioned into this new element with ease, as
though
> it were meant to be.  Their friendship was strengthened by the new
romance.
> Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name given for the
first
> email he came across.  Opening it up, he read the following:
> Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you stop your
> investigation immediately.  Heartache and harm can only befall you.
Thank
> your luck and live long and well with your beautiful new love.
> There was no signature.  Alarmed, Ayden checked the From field, but
the only
> information this provided was aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.  Ayden?s
pulse
> quickened.  Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the room, he closed
the
> window he was in.  He thought it was best to not alarm her just yet.
> Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear hug, Ayden
knew this
> was just the beginning.
>   		 	   		
> _______________________________________________
> Writers Division web site: http://www.nfb-writers-division.org 
> <http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>
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>



------------------------------

Message: 3
Date: Fri, 8 Oct 2010 07:53:42 -0400
From: "Joe Orozco" <jsorozco at gmail.com>
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
	language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <8CB6CFF16AAB48FDBCFCFE4B7CB7F925 at Rufus>
Content-Type: text/plain;	charset="us-ascii"

Bridgit,

Excellent writing as always.  For me, there are only a couple comments.
First, there seemed to be too many issues wrestling for center stage.
This is part of the restriction of a short story, but I felt tumbled
about a little attempting to debate between attaching to the romantic
plot, his blindness abilities, and the mystery.  I guess I'd rather have
a center element that captures me and holds me from beginning to end.
Second, because the story moves at a fleeting clip, I wonder if you
could rearrange the events a little.  Perhaps you could start with Aiden
and Salma meeting with an unidentified person, flash back to the
unfolding events and then return to the present where the suspect is
revealed?  I guess I'm looking for something that would package the
story in the same length but rearrange it so that the meal feels more
balanced.  Finally, and this just might show my ignorance, but although
I don't mind hanging conclusions, I really have no idea how the plot was
resolved.  Right now I think the sheriff may have been responsible, but
then, funny business about his father not pursuing an investigation.
Maybe this was the point, to keep people guessing, but with multiple
themes going on, I guess I'd like the presumed main theme to be
resolved.  All of this having been said, I really enjoyed the way
Ayden's being blind did not detract from the general painting of the
setting.  If the narrator is going to be so descriptive about Ayden's
other blindness skills, I may have described people's voices a little
more in the dialogue, but all in all, this was a great way to start my
Friday.  Great job.

Best,

Joe

"Hard work spotlights the character of people: some turn up their
sleeves, some turn up their noses, and some don't turn up at all."--Sam
Ewing 

-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org 
[mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On Behalf Of Priscilla McKinley
Sent: Thursday, October 07, 2010 11:58 PM
To: Writer's Division Mailing List
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of 
Murder" some language, alludes to sexual content

Bridgit,

I really enjoyed reading your piece.  I was very much engaged by the
story.  The only part I had issues with was the beginning.  It seems as
though too much history is packed into a few paragraphs.  Perhaps you
could incorporate some of the details in other parts and introduce the
characters and stories as they come up?  Plus, it might be interesting
to let your readers wonder for a while what is going on, leading them in
to discover that they are in the middle of an amateur murder
investigation.

Nice work!

Priscilla



On 10/7/10, Bridgit Pollpeter <bpollpeter at hotmail.com> wrote:
>
> Hey guys,
>
> I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an
upper lit credit.
> We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would share
mine with you.
> Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also, I wrote it in about a

> 12-our time span.  Yes, I'm a procrastinator!  *smile*
>
> It was fun though so enjoy.
>
> Bridgit P
>
> Sense of Murder
>
> Ayden sat in his father's leather wingback chair rolling a
large key between
> his fingers.  The metal key had been cold, but now was warmed
by his hands.
> He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb across the
rough , rusty
> surface.  Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been researching
the mysterious
> death of his grandfather for a book he was writing.  Now, he
sat among items
> wondering if his grandfather had been murdered.
> Ayden's father, Nick, had found Henry, his grandfather, lying
at the bottom
> of the staircase in his home.  Nick never spoke about the
incident after
> reporting it to the police.  He would not speak to Ayden
about Henry's death
> either, but he was allowing Ayden and Salma to search through
any items Nick
> kept.
> No one had been sure what happened.  Lucy, Ayden's
grandmother, had been
> present too when Henry's body was found.  The police recorded
the death as
> an accidental fall.  Many silently pointed fingers at Lucy though. 
> Lucy had grown distraught during the past few months before
Henry's death.
> Friends and family reported that she had been distracted
often or in an
> irritated mood.  This was unlike the warm and tender
grandmother Ayden had
> grown up with.
> When Nick found his father's body, Lucy had gone wild,
screaming, unable to
> leave Henry's lifeless body.  Eventually Nick placed her in a
care home.
> Here Lucy had reached an almost catatonic state until she too
had passed.
> Gossips spread the news, sweeping far and wide.  Lucy was
crazy, they said.
> She went mad, she killed her husband.  It was juicy, just
what a small town
> needed.  The police never looked into the possibility, but
Lucy died with a
> scarlet letter attached to her memory.  Ayden could never
believe that Lucy
> would hurt anyone.  Lucy had been fond of Ayden, guiding him,
encouraging
> him.  "You're so full of potential, Ayden.  I can see fire in
your eyes,"
> she used to tell him.  When Ayden lost his vision, Lucy had
been the one
> person who supported him, still encouraging.
> For years, though,  there had been whispers of foul play, but
no one ever
> spoke about the rumors.  Vague insinuations were the closest
anyone came to
> mentioning "murder."  Ayden, though, had never played by the
rules.  His
> mother referred to him as the "black sheep of the family"
whenever she threw
> a dinner party.  Ayden never felt like he fit in his family's world of

> snobbish dinner parties, elite country clubs and preferential
treatment at
> most Ivy League universities.  He had already been a
disappointment to his
> family before a car accident left him blind.  Seven-years
later, Ayden had
> come to terms with his blindness, but his family accepted him
only out of
> duty.  His father had been clear when saying, "This condition
of yours is
> not suitable for the courtroom, but the firm can take you on
in a capacity
> for research, perhaps.  Maybe a paralegal position will be suitable." 
> Ayden was not able to live with this attitude hanging over him.  After

> completing his bachelor's in literature, Ayden took up a
career writing for
> any newspapers or journals that accepted his entries.
Writing for a small
> literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his novel which had
turned into a
> fictionalized account of his grandfather's death.  Asking his
father for any
> information about his grandfather's life, was the reason
Ayden now sat in
> his father's study.  He found more, he thought,  than his
father knew about
> though.
> "So what's next?" Salma asked.  Salma lived across the hall
from Ayden in
> his building.  They had become friends, and Salma now was helping him 
> research his grandfather's life. Tapping the key in his palm, Ayden 
> said, "I'm not sure.  This
letter says a
> lot."
> Ayden closed his eyes thinking on this letter.  It was
evidence, even if
> circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew about it, she
could have killed
> Henry.
> There was a pause then paper crackled before Salma spoke.
"It's pretty
> clear from this letter that your grandfather was having an
affair.  I wonder
> if we can figure out these initials, A. W."
> Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to remember anyone he
had ever met with
> A. W. for initials.  "I don't know," he sighed.
> As Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they
had found an old
> copy of Wuthering Heights.  Ayden remembered the year Henry
had given the
> third edition book to Lucy for Christmas.  Lucy had sat
unwrapping the gift,
> then exclaimed, "Oh," before looking up with tears in her
eyes.  Wuthering
> Heights had always been her favorite novel.  Lucy had been
the one person to
> encourage Ayden to follow his dream and take up writing
instead of joining
> the family law firm.  "You're meant to follow your own path,"
Lucy had told
> Ayden once.  Twenty-years later, Ayden and Salma found a
letter enclosed in
> the pages of the book.
> Ayden touched the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it
out to Salma
> to inspect.  She told him the letter appeared old, but not as
old as the
> book.  A few of the torn edges of the letter were turning yellow.  The

> letter was simple as she read: Henry, my love,
> I can not wait to see you again.  I hoped and when I saw you 
coming down the
> road, my heart leaped.  I still feel your touch.  How much
longer must we
> wait?  Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is too late. 
> Love, A. W. "What now?  Where do we go next?" Salma asked.
> Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him.  "We 
visit the old
> Templeton mansion."
> The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home Henry and Lucy
had lived in for
> years.  The family still owned it, but it had sat empty for
years.  Ayden
> thought that maybe more secrets were hidden within the walls of the 
> Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
>
>
>
> Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove.  Neither spoke as
Ayden's fingers slid
> across the pages on his lap.  Reading his Braille notes,
Ayden wondered
> where to start once they reached the small town where his
grandparents and
> father had grown up.  Henry had started a small law firm in town, but 
> eventually it grew.  Henry and Lucy had moved when Nick had
been ten.  Nick
> never spoke about his childhood though.  Ayden really didn't
know much about
> his family's past.  Lucy and Henry had moved back to their
old house once
> Nick took the firm over, but Ayden had rarely visited the
home.  After Henry
> had died, Lucy, unable to cope with his death, had moved into
an upscale
> nursing home in the City, and Nick left the house untouched.
The house had
> sat empty now for ten years.
> As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma.  "Are we there?" "Yes.  
> What's our first stop?" "I'm  figuring this out as we go along.  I 
> guess the police station." Salma was silent before saying, "You okay?

> I know your dad
wasn't happy."
> Ayden had questioned his father about the letter, but Nick
had gone quiet
> and cold before telling Ayden, "Leave it alone.  We don't dig
up family
> history."
> Ayden tried to coax Nick to say more, but the subject was closed. 
> "Yeah.  I wish he would have told us more.  Explained
something," Ayden
> said.
> "Maybe he just wants to keep your family secrets, well,
secret.  Some people
> don't like giving out info about anything."
> "I just feel like he knows more than he's letting on.  Mom
just played dumb
> too."
> "We'll find something.  Don't worry."
> Salma was always reassuring Ayden.  She had become a constant
in his life.
> The only real constant he had.  She had shown up one day,
knocking on his
> door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some home
made enchiladas.
>  That had been the beginning of their friendship.  They had spent many

> nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on weekends.

> Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.
Once moving
> away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts.  He
showed up to the
> office for work, attended cocktail parties required for work
and even dated
> a couple of girls, but Salma was the one person he truly felt
comfortable
> with.  Her infectious way of always looking at things
positively seemed like
> a novelty to Ayden.  She could always make him smile.  When
he began writing
> the book about Henry, Salma had offered to assist in anyway she could.

> "I'm really glad you're here," Ayden said.
>
> "Yeah, yeah.  I'm waiting for my pay check."  Salma giggled
as she pulled
> into a parking stall.  "I think we're here."
> While Salma dropped coins into the parking meter, Ayden
tapped his cane
> along the brick walls looking for the door.  Hearing the
clink of glass as
> his cane tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door.
> "No Braille, is this it?" he shouted back to Salma.
> "I believe so," she answered rushing to catch up.
> They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the
police station.
> Ayden moved towards the sound of  clacking as some one
pressed keys on a
> computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency.  This, he
thought, must be a
> reception desk.
> Stepping up to a smooth feeling counter, Ayden said, "Excuse me." "Can

> I help you?" a woman's bored voice said. "We were wondering if we can 
> speak to some one who worked the Henry Templeton case," Ayden said.
> The woman stopped typing and a long silence followed.  "Who's 
 asking?"
> "I'm Ayden Templeton, Henry's grandson."
> "One minute."  A chair creaked as the woman stood.  Her shoes
clacked as she
> walked away.
> Salma touched Ayden's arm.  "She had a weird look when you
mentioned your
> grandpa's name."
> Ayden said nothing, not sure what he was doing there in the
first place.
> The woman's shoes clacked once more as she returned.  Another footstep

> joined hers, but this person shuffled slightly. The person shuffled 
> towards Salma, saying, "Hello.  I'm
Sheriff Jenkins.
> How can I help you?"
> Ayden stepped closer towards Salma, extending his arm to
Sheriff Jenkins.
> "I'm Ayden Templeton and this is Salma Juarez.  We have some
questions about
> my grandfather's death."
> There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins shook Ayden's hand.
"Step into my
> office please."
> Ayden followed the sheriff into a room off the main section of the 
> department.  His cane swep the inside of the door frame,
indicating the
> width so Ayden avoided bumping into the edges of the frame.
Ayden asked
> where a chair was and turned in the direction Captain Jenkins
indicated.
> Once again, his cane found the chair and sliding the cane
across the seat,
> Ayden determined where the front of the chair was.  Salma's
arm brushed his
> as she sat next to him.
> "Can I get you anything?" Sheriff Jenkins asked.
> "No, but thank you.  Salma?"
> "I'm good," Salma replied.
> Ayden felt a tension fill the room as the three sat there,
not speaking.
> Sheriff Jenkins began tapping the edge of the metal table in the 
> interrogation room.  Ayden twisted his cane between his
fingers.  Salma
> bobbed her foot which was lightly kicking Ayden's shin. "We're hoping 
> to learn as much as we can about Henry
Templeton's death.  I'm
> researching the story for a novel I'm working on," Ayden started. "I 
> worked the case.  There's not much to tell," Sheriff Jenkins said. "I 
> know you eventually reported it as an accidental death,
but was there
> ever any evidence suggesting otherwise?" Ayden asked.
> "No.  We questioned friends and family and there was no
reason to believe
> Henry Templeton was murdered," Sheriff Jenkins said sharply. Ayden 
> shifted his head towards Salma before saying, "I know there 
> was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it." "Lucy Baldwin?  
> She never hurt anyone.  We were all shocked
when she married
> Henry.  She could have had anyone she wanted."
> Ayden leaned against the table looking straight in the direction where

> Sheriff Jenkins sat.  "I thought Henry was a catch?  You
know, a lawyer from
> a wealthy family."
> "He was a playboy.  Always was, never changed."
> "Who did you question about his death?" Salma broke in.
> The sheriff's chair creaked as he leaned back.  "Well, of
course Lucy and
> her boy Nick.  They were there.  Found his body and all." Ayden shot 
> the sheriff a questioning glance.  He was talking
like he had
> forgot who Ayden was.
> "Then there was Zelda, the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he
came around
> about once a week to help Lucy with the lawn.  She loved her
garden.  Her
> roses won prizes around here," Sheriff Jenkins continued. "Anyone 
> else?" Ayden asked. "Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so

> they
didn't see much of
> him anymore.  Alice Whitley, she had been his personal
secretary for years.
> She still did stuff part-time for Henry."
> Ayden had pulled out a three-by-five plastic device that had
six rows of
> cells containing three holes on each side of the cells.  A
pop-pop-pop sound
> was made as Ayden poked a pointed awl-like object called a
stylus through
> the holes as he took Braille notes.  "Are any of these people
still around?"
> "Not everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton's
to leave town.
> Other than Henry's work associates, I think most of them
still live around
> here.  At least the one's who are still alive."
> "Is there anything else you can tell us?  Was there anything
strange you
> noticed?  Any evidence that suggest something other than an accidental

> tumble down the stairs?" The sheriff laughed.  "I know you city folk 
> like to dream up seedy happenings in small towns, but Henry 
> Templeton's death was
nothing more than
> an accident.  Nothing dark about it."
> "Thank you for your time," Ayden said extending his hand
again to shake
> Sheriff Jenkins's.
> Sheriff Jenkins sighed.  "Look, don't go digging anything up.
 Just let the
> dead rest."
> Salma's bracelet tinkled as they stood.
> "We understand.  I'm just trying to find things out about my
grandfather for
> the book.  You know, no stone uncovered," Ayden said.
> "Are you two married?" Sheriff Jenkins asked.
> Ayden, confused by the switch, replied, "No."
> The sheriff chuckled.  "Like your grandpa, I see."
> Ayden blushed, but Salma said, "Ayden is nothing but a
gentleman.  Clearly
> something he did not pick up in this town."
> "I know the kind of men the Templeton's are," the sheriff said. Unsure

> of what to do, Ayden turned to leave. "At least he has a better chance

> of touching what you have
been admiring
> this whole time," Salma snapped.  She turned quickly and
Ayden felt a rush
> of breeze as she left the room.
>
> Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
> "I'm sorry.  I didn't know what to say."
> "It's okay.  He was a pig."
> "I didn't realize-"
> "I know, its okay.  Where to next?"
> Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone.  "The house, I

> guess." As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of traffic,
Ayden wondered
> why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.  Was it simply
said in a
> moment of anger, or was there any truth in her words, he
thought.  He has a
> better chance of touching what you have been admiring.  For
the first time,
> Ayden thought of the possibilities with Salma.
>
>
> Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it
had been during
> the few visits he had made during his childhood.  The house
had always stood
> out even among the street full of bright, cheery houses complete with 
> emerald lawns and award winning gardens.  The Templeton house had a 
> wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening onto a large lawn

> complete with a British garden.  Its three stories reached
majestically
> towards the sky.
>
>
> Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house.
The feel of the
> railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark
wooden banister.
> The stairs creaked as he stepped on them.  Reaching the
porch, he felt a
> slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear of falling through the

> porch.  Children played nearby and cars languidly drove down
the street, but
> a strange silence surrounded the house.  It was as though Ayden were 
> underneath water trying to make out the distant sounds.  The scent of 
> jasmine passed briefly through his nose as Salma stood next to him. 
> "How does it look?" Ayden asked ignoring the scent. Salma took a deep 
> breath.  "It's run down, that's for sure.
I can't believe
> no one has lived here for years."
> "My family still owns it, but after my grandfather's death,
no one wanted to
> do anything about it."
> Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the dilapidated
Victorian house.
>  He dug in his pockets for the rusty key he had found in his father's 
> office.  As he inserted the heavy key in the lock, a quiet
click was heard.
> Ayden pushed the solid door open.  He looked in Salma's
direction before
> stepping inside.  Shutting the door, the house engulfed all
sound like a
> tomb.
> "Creepy," Salma said as she shivered.
> Ayden walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide
so as to not
> run into anything.  Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as
he inhaled.
> "This has been sitting for years," Ayden rasped.  "What's it
look like?"
> Salma looked around.  "It's really dark, but it's almost
completely empty.
> What do you think you'll find?"
> "I'm not sure.  Sheriff Jenkins wasn't much help.  I just
thought, maybe
> something."
> Salma's sandals clipped-clopped as she walked over to a
window to open it.
> "Well, if we are going to be here long we need fresh air." Ayden felt 
> a rush of summer breeze as the window clambered
up.  The sound of
> kids jumping rope ruined the house's stolid silence.  Life
entered the house
> again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue. Salma 
> clumped up the stairs as Ayden moved from room to room
feeling walls
> and any remaining furniture, hoping to find something,
anything.  He rifled
> through drawers and cupboards.  So far his hands had only
found dust and
> cobwebs.
> "Ayden, Ayden!" Salma shouted a couple of hours later.
> Ayden hurried towards the staircase.  "Salma!  Are you okay?" "Get up 
> here!  I found something!" Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.  
> Reaching the top, he
shouted, "What
> room?"
> "Um, it's a bedroom."
> Hearing her voice off to his left, Ayden moved down the
hallway.  At the
> end, he found a door open.
> "Salma?"
> Salma's clapping sandals moved towards Ayden.
> "Look at this," she said excitedly.  Her bracelet tinkled and
paper crackled
> as she shoved something in Ayden's hand.
> Ayden grinned.  "Um."  He handed the paper back to Salma. "Oh-sorry.  
> I just-you won't believe this." It was another letter; a love letter 
> to Henry. Henry, My love,
> I miss you.  I grow restless with each day.  I have waited 
years to be with
> you, really be with you.  Let's stop the pretending, stop the
lies.  Don't
> be mad with me.  I would do anything for you, but we must stop hiding.

> There is no harm in this.  I will wait to hear from you, but
don't take
> long.
> Love,
> A.     W.
> Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath.  Ayden
was not quite
> sure what her excitement was for.
> "We already know Henry was having an affair of sorts," he said. Salma 
> sighed impatiently.  "Ayden, think about it.  Don't you see?" "Not 
> really," he said slowly. She grabbed his wrist.  Her slender fingers 
> gripped him with
a strength
> Ayden would not have guessed at.  She moved in closer and
once again, Ayden
> took in the scent of jasmine.  This time he smelled something
else with it.
> Vanilla, he thought.  Salma shook his arm slightly bringing
him back to
> attention.
> "Ayden, A. W.  Don't you see it yet?"
> "A. W.?"
> "The initials," she said exasperated, "A. W.  Alice Whitley." "Who's 
> Alice Whitley?" Salma smacked her forehead.  "Ay-where are your notes 
> from today?" Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from his 
> back pocket. "Now read through it," Salma said as though talking to a 
> small child. Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked 
> sharply
up at Salma.
> "See?" Salma asked.
> "I can't believe we didn't realize it then.  His secretary.
And Sheriff
> Jenkins said she's still living in town."
> "Think we can find her?"
> "Give me a minute," Ayden said reaching for his mobile phone
tucked away in
> his pocket.
> An electronic hum came from his phone as he maneuvered
through the menus on
> his phone.  A screen-reading program specific to mobile
phones, helped Ayden
> utilize the functions on his phone.
> "Got it.  There's only one Alice Whitley that shows up in town." 
> "Thank God for technology," Salma said.  "No wonder no one
could ever solve
> this case."
> Ayden smirked at her.  "Thank God for accessible technology.
Come on.  She
> doesn't live far from here and it's not too late."
>
> Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door.  The
house was less
> substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described its
well-kempt
> lawn and cheery exterior.
> The door opened and a woman's voice gasped, "Oh."
> "Miss Whitley?  I'm Ayden-"
> "Templeton," she said.  "You look like Henry."
> Smiling, Ayden said, "Miss Whitley, this is my friend Salma.
We're working
> on a book about my grandfather, and we would like to ask you some 
> questions." "Oh, of course.  Come in, come in."
> As the door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower 
scent that he
> couldn't place and a clock ticked nearby.  Alice Whitley
ushered them into a
> sitting room off the entryway.  Salma sat next to Ayden on
the soft couch
> while Alice sat across from them.
> "Can I offer you anything?  I just made lemonade."
> "That would be wonderful," Salma said.
> As Alice left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma.  "I'm
sorry, I didn't
> even think to ask if you were hungry."
> "Hon, it's okay.  I didn't think about it myself until now." "We'll 
> have dinner after this; I promise." "Promise?"
> Ayden grinned as Alice returned.  She placed an ice-cold 
glass in Ayden's
> hand.  Ice chinked against the side as he took a gulp.  The
cold liquid felt
> good down his throat after the dust of his family's house.
He could only
> imagine how dirty he and Salma looked.  He felt the mingled
grime of sweat
> and dirt on his body.  Why had it not occurred to them to
stop somewhere
> first and wash up, Ayden thought.
> "So, what can I help you with?  Henry was a dear friend and I
miss him.  You
> must call me Alice."
> "Well, Alice, we specifically are interested in his death,"
Ayden said.
> Alice choked on her lemonade.  "Why would you be interested in that?" 
> "I believe that maybe his death wasn't accidental." "Oh dear, don't 
> buy into those silly rumors.  Pete Jenkins conducted a thorough 
> investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at." "And yet the 
> rumors persist," Ayden said. "Silly gossip.  Housewives bored out of 
> there minds." "You know Sheriff Jenkins?" Ayden asked.
> "Darling, it's a town of ten-thousand; everybody knows everybody."
> Ayden sipped on his lemonade as Salma clicked her nails 
against the side of
> her glass.
> "We have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story,"
Ayden said.
> He affected his best courtroom demeanor.  He had seen his
father like this
> hundreds of times.
> Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her glass.  Her voice had
lost some of
> its cheeriness when she responded by asking, "What makes you
say that?"
> Ayden found the love letter in a folder.  He removed the
Braille label,
> setting the letter on the coffee table dividing Ayden and
Salma from Alice.
> The room grew still.  The letter rustled as Alice picked it
up.  When she
> spoke, she sounded choked as though she were holding back tears. 
> "Where did you find this?" "It was in some old boxes in the Templeton 
> home," Salma said. A long silence followed in which Ayden could hear 
> Alice sniffling. "I suppose the truth has to come out sooner or 
> later," Alice
said quietly.
> "We don't need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason
to think Henry
> was killed?" Ayden soothed.
> "Your grandfather hired me when I was eighteen," Alice began, ignoring

> Ayden.  "I instantly fell in love with him, but he was that
type.  Dashingly
> handsome, charming to a fault.  He was a few years older than
me, but I knew
> how all the girls waited for their chance to rope Henry into
marriage.  I
> felt so lucky to see him everyday.  I started out as a simple
receptionist,
> but eventually he promoted me to his personal secretary." "Did you 
> move with my grandparents then, when they moved?"
Ayden asked.
> Alice sighed.  "Yes, but after-things happened-I moved back.
I remained in
> his employ, working from the office here in town.  Before
your father took
> charge, Henry's headquarters had always been based from here." Ayden 
> nodded his head. "I never meant to hurt anyone.  Things happened.  
> Henry loved
us both, Lucy
> and I.  I tried to end it for years, but Henry always showed
up with that
> smile of his.  Then I tried to make him choose.  I should've
known better,
> but I was in love."
> Alice continued to spill her story, hoping for redemption perhaps. 
> "The final straw came right before his death.  We had carried
on for almost
> forty-years and I knew it had to stop.  We fought.  I
threatened to tell
> Lucy and that was that.  He left me promising to choose.  I
waited for an
> answer, but a week later, Henry was found dead."
> "Did you ever tell anyone?" Ayden asked.
> "No."
>
> Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice's house.  A
breeze tousled
> Ayden's hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through his
dark tresses.
> "Seems like all you Templeton men are irresistible," she said
teasingly.
> Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he grinned, but
before he could
> make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click open.  He slid into the 
> passenger seat, heart pounding. "You promised me dinner," Salma whined

> playfully.
>
> After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and
Salma found
> themselves walking through the downtown area.  Salma kept up
with Ayden's
> stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc. "Sometimes I think

> it would be nice to live in a small town,"
Salma mused.
> "Really, you?  Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day," Ayden joked. 
> "I could drive to the city.  I don't know.  It seems like a
nice place to
> raise a family."
> Ayden had never heard Salma speak about kids or families.  As
well as he
> knew her, Ayden realized there was plenty he still had to
learn about Salma.
> "Yes, we could raise happy little kids who will grow up to
cheat, lie and
> murder," Ayden scoffed.
> "We, huh?"
> Ayden blushed, feeling the heat creep up his neck to his
face.  He hadn't
> caught his blunder.  He sputtered, but before he could make
sense of his
> words, Salma grabbed his hand.
> "Maybe we can live in the Templeton mansion," she said.
> They walked silently back to the car.
> "It's pretty late, what should we do?" Salma asked.
> Ayden flipped the crystal face of his watch up.  Feeling the
raised dots and
> arrows with his pointer finger on his Braille watch, he said, "It's a 
> quarter to eleven.  I'm beat." "Me too.  I don't really feel like 
> driving back tonight though." Ayden scratched his head.  "I guess we 
> can stay at casa-de-Templeton." "Okay, but no funny business," Salma 
> joked. Sitting in the car, Ayden said, "By the way, unlike some men
in my family,
> I'm more of a one-woman type."
>
> They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master bedroom. 
> "Sure you don't want to sleep in another room?" Ayden asked. "Hell no!

> This house is creepy." "I thought you wanted to raise children here?"
> "Shut-up.  Scared to sleep with a girl?"  The bed creaked as 
Salma lay down
> on it.  "A bit musty."
> They had found spare bed linens in a box and had attempted to
shake them out
> as best they could.  Ayden had noticed a lingering wispy
scent of flowers
> that he could not place.  It may have been the remnants of
something used to
> launder the linens years ago, he had thought.
> Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and handed it to
Salma.  "Here.
> You can wrap your pillow in it."
> "Thanks," Salma said drawing the word out.
> Realizing what he had just done, he blushed for the millionth
time that day.
>  Not able to turn back what he had done, Ayden lay slowly
down, sticking
> close to the edge.
> "Keep your hands above the blankets," Salma yawned.
>
> Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly
dawned as he felt
> Salma's small body nestled against his.  She snored quietly and Ayden 
> smiled.  This was nice, he thought.  He extracted himself
gently from the
> bed, trying to not wake Salma.
> He needed to use the bathroom, but it struck him that the
bathrooms would
> not be in working order.  It was primitive, but it would have
to do, he
> thought as he found his way downstairs and out into the back
garden.  Hoping
> no neighbors were awake to see him, he relieved himself.
> Half asleep still, his eyes snapped open as a slight shuffle came from

> behind him.  Finished with his midnight chore, he listened
intently, but no
> sound came again.  He turned around, gripping his cane in one hand. 
> "Hello," he said. No response came.  He turned back towards the house 
> and as he
walked, Ayden
> felt his back tingle.  It was the sensation he felt as a child when 
> terrified, feeling a presence behind him.  He was an adult
now, he chided
> himself.  Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the house,
he reached the
> French doors and entered.  As he went to shut the doors, a
soft shuffle
> started in the darkness again.  It could have been the long
dead foliage
> rustling in the breeze, but Ayden placed himself in the
doorway again.  The
> noise instantly stopped.
> Slamming the door and locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs,
taking three
> steps at a time.  Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears,
Ayden felt a
> cool breeze cut through the stuffy air of the bedroom.
DeMint, he swore to
> himself.  They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping
to air out
> their lodgings for the night.
> Salma still was sleeping peacefully on the bed.  He sat on
the bed resting
> his head on the large carved headboard, listening.
> Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the leaves of
trees from
> time to time.  Salma continued her snoring.  Silence loomed around the

> house.  Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again or a step on the 
> stairs, but nothing came.  He relaxed after fifteen minutes
of vigilante
> guarding.
> Laying back down on the bed, one arm behind his head, he
smiled when Salma
> threw an arm across his chest.  Thinking only of Salma by
now, Ayden drifted
> back off to sleep.
>
> The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something was not

> right.  Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but
an acrid odor
> filled his nostrils.  A loud crack made him bolt up in bed. "Salma!  
> There's a fire!"  He shook her until she woke up. "We need to get out 
> of here," Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience state.
> Ayden flew to the open door.  Smoke filled his nose and made 
his eyes water.
>  "Salma, I can't tell if we can make it down the stairs." Standing 
> next to him, she said, "All I can see is smoke.  Can
we jump out
> the window?"
> "We're on the second floor.  It's pretty high up."
> Now across the room, Ayden heard Salma cry, "Oh-my-god!  Ayden!" 
> "What?" "I can see flames around the base of the house."
> "Shit."  Trying to think, Ayden gathered up the sheet from 
the bed.  Dousing
> it with water from the couple bottles purchased last night,
he threw the
> sheet at Salma.  "Wrap yourself in this."
> "Why?"
> "Just do it."
> Making sure her long hair was covered, Ayden threw Salma over
his shoulder.
> Grabbing his cane by the door, he moved into the hallway.
Hoping the shirt
> tied around his face would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top of the

> stairs.  Despite the situation, Ayden could not help notice the 
> harlequin-romance-like predicament. He heard Salma say something, but 
> her face was muffled and he
could not
> understand her.  Tucking his cane underneath his arm, he
groped the banister
> which still seemed intact.  Finally reaching the bottom, he
found his way to
> the front door and opened it.  A rush of fresh air greeted
him.  Feeling
> heat, he hoped he could make it off the porch.  At the top of
the stairs,
> panicked, he placed Salma upright again.  She struggled to
loosen the sheet
> around her.
> "Are the flames here too?" Ayden asked.
> "No, but there coming from behind."
> At the end of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone.
Neighbors could be
> heard coming from their own houses.  A few ran up to Ayden
and Salma asking
> if they were okay.
> Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the roar of flames.
Salma held his
> hand as they waited in silence for the sound of sirens.
>
> Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins's police
cruiser.  The
> mid-morning sun warmed his face.  Still shirtless, a blanket
draped his
> shoulders.  A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he could
still smell
> the smoke embracing his body.
> Once the firemen had extinguished the fire, Sheriff Jenkins
and his deputy,
> a man about Ayden's age, drove Salma and Ayden to the police
station.  Each
> gave a report before Nick was contacted.
> Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of water.  He
gulped the cool
> liquid down as Salma rested her head against his shoulder.
Sniffing her
> hair laced with a flower scent and smoke, Ayden protectively
placed an arm
> around her.
> "Ayden," Salma said in quiet surprise, "Alice Whitley is here." Ayden 
> pulled the blanket closed as he waited for Alice to
approach.  A new
> scent filled his nostrils.  This too smelled of flowers, but
it was not the
> framiliar jasmine and vanilla Salma wore.  Through the fog of
his brain, he
> tried to place where he had smelled this scent before.
> "I'm glad you two are alright," Alice spoke quietly.  "I
can't believe this.
>  Do you need anything?"
> "Thank you, but we're okay," Salma said warmly.
> "Pete phoned me this morning-"
> "Sheriff Jenkins?  Why?" Ayden asked.
> Alice didn't respond.
> Waiting for an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower
scent that had
> lingered in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens. 
> "Alice, did you visit the house after we left you yesterday?" Alice 
> made a noise as though she were suppressing it in her
throat.  She
> never answered and before Ayden could ask anything else, he heard her 
> muffled footsteps on the grass as she walked briskly away. "Ayden?" 
> Salma puzzled. "Her perfume, it's the same smell I noticed in the 
> closet last night." "Ayden, that's where I found the letter too," 
> Salma whispered." Ayden heard the swish of grass as someone else 
> walked towards
them.  It was
> Nick.
> "Are you crazy?" Nick asked, bewildered.
> "I'm fine.  Nice to see you too, Dad."
> Nick let out a long breath before saying, "Your mother and I
went crazy when
> we heard what happened.  We're glad you're okay."
> "Is the house ruined?" Ayden asked.
> Salma shifted and sat upright next to Ayden.
> "It's mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is damage
to the house."
> Ayden felt his chest tighten.  The garden had been Lucy's
favorite place.
> Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall bushes
as Lucy tended
> to her beloved flowers.  Interrupting his thoughts, Ayden
heard a shuffling
> footstep approach.  Another memory pushed itself front and
center in his
> mind.  As Sheriff Jenkins stopped his pace, Ayden gave him a
hard look.
> "Tom says it will take a few weeks to get reports back, but
there is some
> structural damage to the house, Nick," the sheriff said. "Taken any 
> midnight strolls to clear your mind lately?" Ayden
directed to
> Sheriff Jenkins.
> No one spoke.  Salma gripped his hand.
> "Any reason why you'd call Alice Whitley early this morning?" Ayden 
> continued. "Drop it," Nick hissed at Ayden.
> Thrown off by Nick's tone, Ayden squeezed Salma's hand, 
unsure what to do.
> "I'm sure we're all tired and need to collect our thoughts,"
Sheriff Jenkins
> said.  "Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick."  Ayden
heard the
> lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
>
>
> Ayden sat in front of the computer.  A buzz issued from the
speakers as
> JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command
Ayden typed.
> "Still working?" Salma asked from behind.
> Ayden leaned his head back against her stomach.  She was
wrapped in a large
> soft towel.  He slipped his hand through the folds, but she
turned swiftly
> away, laughing.
> Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.  "That
just turns me on
> more."
> "I called you a great big moron whose brain is the size of his-" 
> "Doesn't matter.  Still sounds sexy." Salma whipped another towel at 
> him before scampering to the bedroom. Turning back to his work, Ayden 
> decided to check his email. As he clicked on the necessary links using

> Hotkey commands,
he thought over
> the past few weeks.
> Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said that
everything was
> circumstantial.  Ayden knew this, but he also knew he had
opened something
> up.  Something that had been meant to remain secret.  Nick
refused to open
> any investigation and he remained tight-lipped about anything he knew.

> The fire was officially reported as an unknown accident since
no evidence,
> either way, had been found determining a cause.  This, at
least, was how the
> police report read.  Ayden, though, had inquired into the fire-chief's

> report.  It too was inconclusive, but this report did mention
that a match
> book had been found near the premises.  Salma had advised
Ayden to wait
> before attempting any further investigation.
> Salma had been the reason he was able to let the weeks slip by without

> searching for more clues.  Once they had returned to the
city, Ayden had
> found the courage to express his budding feelings towards Salma. They 
> had sat on the couch talking; a typical Friday night for
them, except
> this time Ayden could feel a growing anticipation between
them.  Salma had
> stood to get another beer from the kitchen when Ayden reached
for her wrist.
>  His large palm had felt bigger next to her slim wrist.  Both
had stared
> silently at one another.  Ayden, thinking he would win this
game since he
> couldn't see, broke first.  Grinning with a smirk, he had
pulled Salma to
> him and kissed her.
> Three weeks later, their routine was continued as normal, yet
something was
> different.  They had transitioned into this new element with
ease, as though
> it were meant to be.  Their friendship was strengthened by
the new romance.
> Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name given for
the first
> email he came across.  Opening it up, he read the following: Your 
> journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you stop your 
> investigation immediately.  Heartache and harm can only
befall you.  Thank
> your luck and live long and well with your beautiful new love. There 
> was no signature.  Alarmed, Ayden checked the From
field, but the only
> information this provided was aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden's pulse
> quickened.  Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the room, he
closed the
> window he was in.  He thought it was best to not alarm her just yet. 
> Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear hug,
Ayden knew this
> was just the beginning.
>   		 	   		
> _______________________________________________
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------------------------------

Message: 4
Date: Fri, 8 Oct 2010 07:57:43 -0500
From: "Robert Leslie Newman" <newmanrl at cox.net>
To: "'Writer's Division Mailing List'" <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
	language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <000801cb66e8$65d00ad0$31702070$@cox.net>
Content-Type: text/plain;	charset="US-ASCII"

Bridget

A good story! I like the blindness descriptors. And that scene and lines
that you had Salma use while in the office of the sheriff, 
"At least he has a better chance of touching what you have been admiring
this whole time," Salma snapped.  

And yeah, I read the comments of Priscilla and Joe and I can see that
their observations would only enhance the story. 
Thanks for sharing!


-----Original Message-----
From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
Behalf Of Bridgit Pollpeter
Sent: Thursday, October 07, 2010 9:06 PM
To: writers division
Subject: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
language, alludes to sexual content


Hey guys,
 
I'm taking a detective fiction class this semester for an upper lit
credit. We had to write detective shorts and I thought I would share
mine with you. Keep in mind that this is not my genre and also, I wrote
it in about a 12-our time span.  Yes, I'm a procrastinator!  *smile*
 
It was fun though so enjoy.
 
Bridgit P
 
Sense of Murder
            
Ayden sat in his father's leather wingback chair rolling a large key
between his fingers.  The metal key had been cold, but now was warmed by
his hands. He gripped the key in his palm and rubbed a thumb across the
rough , rusty surface.  Three weeks ago, Ayden had merely been
researching the mysterious death of his grandfather for a book he was
writing.  Now, he sat among items wondering if his grandfather had been
murdered. Ayden's father, Nick, had found Henry, his grandfather, lying
at the bottom of the staircase in his home.  Nick never spoke about the
incident after reporting it to the police.  He would not speak to Ayden
about Henry's death either, but he was allowing Ayden and Salma to
search through any items Nick kept. No one had been sure what happened.
Lucy, Ayden's grandmother, had been present too when Henry's body was
found.  The police recorded the death as an accidental fall.  Many
silently pointed fingers at Lucy though. Lucy had grown distraught
during the past few months before Henry's death. Friends and family
reported that she had been distracted often or in an irritated mood.
This was unlike the warm and tender grandmother Ayden had grown up with.
When Nick found his father's body, Lucy had gone wild, screaming, unable
to leave Henry's lifeless body.  Eventually Nick placed her in a care
home. Here Lucy had reached an almost catatonic state until she too had
passed. Gossips spread the news, sweeping far and wide.  Lucy was crazy,
they said. She went mad, she killed her husband.  It was juicy, just
what a small town needed.  The police never looked into the possibility,
but Lucy died with a scarlet letter attached to her memory.  Ayden could
never believe that Lucy would hurt anyone.  Lucy had been fond of Ayden,
guiding him, encouraging him.  "You're so full of potential, Ayden.  I
can see fire in your eyes," she used to tell him.  When Ayden lost his
vision, Lucy had been the one person who supported him, still
encouraging. For years, though,  there had been whispers of foul play,
but no one ever spoke about the rumors.  Vague insinuations were the
closest anyone came to mentioning "murder."  Ayden, though, had never
played by the rules.  His mother referred to him as the "black sheep of
the family" whenever she threw a dinner party.  Ayden never felt like he
fit in his family's world of snobbish dinner parties, elite country
clubs and preferential treatment at most Ivy League universities.  He
had already been a disappointment to his family before a car accident
left him blind.  Seven-years later, Ayden had come to terms with his
blindness, but his family accepted him only out of duty.  His father had
been clear when saying, "This condition of yours is not suitable for the
courtroom, but the firm can take you on in a capacity for research,
perhaps.  Maybe a paralegal position will be suitable." Ayden was not
able to live with this attitude hanging over him.  After completing his
bachelor's in literature, Ayden took up a career writing for any
newspapers or journals that accepted his entries.  Writing for a small
literary journal allowed Ayden to work on his novel which had turned
into a fictionalized account of his grandfather's death.  Asking his
father for any information about his grandfather's life, was the reason
Ayden now sat in his father's study.  He found more, he thought,  than
his father knew about though. "So what's next?" Salma asked.  Salma
lived across the hall from Ayden in his building.  They had become
friends, and Salma now was helping him research his grandfather's life.
Tapping the key in his palm, Ayden said, "I'm not sure.  This letter
says a lot." Ayden closed his eyes thinking on this letter.  It was
evidence, even if circumstantial, that suggested, if Lucy knew about it,
she could have killed Henry. There was a pause then paper crackled
before Salma spoke.  "It's pretty clear from this letter that your
grandfather was having an affair.  I wonder if we can figure out these
initials, A. W." Ayden shut his eyes thinking, trying to remember anyone
he had ever met with A. W. for initials.  "I don't know," he sighed. As
Ayden and Salma leafed through pictures and notes, they had found an old
copy of Wuthering Heights.  Ayden remembered the year Henry had given
the third edition book to Lucy for Christmas.  Lucy had sat unwrapping
the gift, then exclaimed, "Oh," before looking up with tears in her
eyes.  Wuthering Heights had always been her favorite novel.  Lucy had
been the one person to encourage Ayden to follow his dream and take up
writing instead of joining the family law firm.  "You're meant to follow
your own path," Lucy had told Ayden once.  Twenty-years later, Ayden and
Salma found a letter enclosed in the pages of the book. Ayden touched
the thick, but stiff piece of paper and held it out to Salma to inspect.
She told him the letter appeared old, but not as old as the book.  A few
of the torn edges of the letter were turning yellow.  The letter was
simple as she read:  
Henry, my love,
I can not wait to see you again.  I hoped and when I saw you coming down
the road, my heart leaped.  I still feel your touch.  How much longer
must we wait?  Please, my darling, give me what I ask before it is too
late.  
Love, A. W.
"What now?  Where do we go next?" Salma asked.
Ayden held the rusted, copper key up in front of him.  "We visit the old
Templeton mansion." The Templeton mansion was the Victorian home Henry
and Lucy had lived in for years.  The family still owned it, but it had
sat empty for years.  Ayden thought that maybe more secrets were hidden
within the walls of the Templeton house, eager to be discovered.
 

 
Ayden sat in the car as Salma drove.  Neither spoke as Ayden's fingers
slid across the pages on his lap.  Reading his Braille notes, Ayden
wondered where to start once they reached the small town where his
grandparents and father had grown up.  Henry had started a small law
firm in town, but eventually it grew.  Henry and Lucy had moved when
Nick had been ten.  Nick never spoke about his childhood though.  Ayden
really didn't know much about his family's past.  Lucy and Henry had
moved back to their old house once Nick took the firm over, but Ayden
had rarely visited the home.  After Henry had died, Lucy, unable to cope
with his death, had moved into an upscale nursing home in the City, and
Nick left the house untouched.  The house had sat empty now for ten
years. As the car slowed, Ayden looked up at Salma.  "Are we there?"
"Yes.  What's our first stop?" "I'm  figuring this out as we go along.
I guess the police station." Salma was silent before saying, "You okay?
I know your dad wasn't happy." Ayden had questioned his father about the
letter, but Nick had gone quiet and cold before telling Ayden, "Leave it
alone.  We don't dig up family history." Ayden tried to coax Nick to say
more, but the subject was closed. "Yeah.  I wish he would have told us
more.  Explained something," Ayden said. "Maybe he just wants to keep
your family secrets, well, secret.  Some people don't like giving out
info about anything." "I just feel like he knows more than he's letting
on.  Mom just played dumb too." "We'll find something.  Don't worry."
Salma was always reassuring Ayden.  She had become a constant in his
life. The only real constant he had.  She had shown up one day, knocking
on his door, holding a dish in her hands, offering Ayden some home made
enchiladas. That had been the beginning of their friendship.  They had
spent many nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on
weekends.  Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.
Once moving away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts.  He
showed up to the office for work, attended cocktail parties required for
work and even dated a couple of girls, but Salma was the one person he
truly felt comfortable with.  Her infectious way of always looking at
things positively seemed like a novelty to Ayden.  She could always make
him smile.  When he began writing the book about Henry, Salma had
offered to assist in anyway she could. "I'm really glad you're here,"
Ayden said.

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm waiting for my pay check."  Salma giggled as she
pulled into a parking stall.  "I think we're here." While Salma dropped
coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane along the brick
walls looking for the door.  Hearing the clink of glass as his cane
tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door. "No Braille, is this it?" he
shouted back to Salma. "I believe so," she answered rushing to catch up.
They entered the quiet, almost lazy-like atmosphere of the police
station. Ayden moved towards the sound of  clacking as some one pressed
keys on a computer keyboard with a practiced efficiency.  This, he
thought, must be a reception desk. Stepping up to a smooth feeling
counter, Ayden said, "Excuse me." "Can I help you?" a woman's bored
voice said. "We were wondering if we can speak to some one who worked
the Henry Templeton case," Ayden said. The woman stopped typing and a
long silence followed.  "Who's  asking?" "I'm Ayden Templeton, Henry's
grandson." "One minute."  A chair creaked as the woman stood.  Her shoes
clacked as she walked away. Salma touched Ayden's arm.  "She had a weird
look when you mentioned your grandpa's name." Ayden said nothing, not
sure what he was doing there in the first place. The woman's shoes
clacked once more as she returned.  Another footstep joined hers, but
this person shuffled slightly. The person shuffled towards Salma,
saying, "Hello.  I'm Sheriff Jenkins. How can I help you?" Ayden stepped
closer towards Salma, extending his arm to Sheriff Jenkins. "I'm Ayden
Templeton and this is Salma Juarez.  We have some questions about my
grandfather's death." There was a pause before Sheriff Jenkins shook
Ayden's hand.  "Step into my office please." Ayden followed the sheriff
into a room off the main section of the department.  His cane swep the
inside of the door frame, indicating the width so Ayden avoided bumping
into the edges of the frame.  Ayden asked where a chair was and turned
in the direction Captain Jenkins indicated. Once again, his cane found
the chair and sliding the cane across the seat, Ayden determined where
the front of the chair was.  Salma's arm brushed his as she sat next to
him. "Can I get you anything?" Sheriff Jenkins asked. "No, but thank
you.  Salma?" "I'm good," Salma replied. Ayden felt a tension fill the
room as the three sat there, not speaking. Sheriff Jenkins began tapping
the edge of the metal table in the interrogation room.  Ayden twisted
his cane between his fingers.  Salma bobbed her foot which was lightly
kicking Ayden's shin. "We're hoping to learn as much as we can about
Henry Templeton's death.  I'm researching the story for a novel I'm
working on," Ayden started. "I worked the case.  There's not much to
tell," Sheriff Jenkins said. "I know you eventually reported it as an
accidental death, but was there ever any evidence suggesting otherwise?"
Ayden asked. "No.  We questioned friends and family and there was no
reason to believe Henry Templeton was murdered," Sheriff Jenkins said
sharply. Ayden shifted his head towards Salma before saying, "I know
there was-uh-speculation that maybe my grandmother did it." "Lucy
Baldwin?  She never hurt anyone.  We were all shocked when she married
Henry.  She could have had anyone she wanted." Ayden leaned against the
table looking straight in the direction where Sheriff Jenkins sat.  "I
thought Henry was a catch?  You know, a lawyer from a wealthy family."
"He was a playboy.  Always was, never changed." "Who did you question
about his death?" Salma broke in. The sheriff's chair creaked as he
leaned back.  "Well, of course Lucy and her boy Nick.  They were there.
Found his body and all." Ayden shot the sheriff a questioning glance.
He was talking like he had forgot who Ayden was. "Then there was Zelda,
the housekeeper, and Avery Mayer, he came around about once a week to
help Lucy with the lawn.  She loved her garden.  Her roses won prizes
around here," Sheriff Jenkins continued. "Anyone else?" Ayden asked.
"Oh, his work associates, but Henry was retired so they didn't see much
of him anymore.  Alice Whitley, she had been his personal secretary for
years. She still did stuff part-time for Henry." Ayden had pulled out a
three-by-five plastic device that had six rows of cells containing three
holes on each side of the cells.  A pop-pop-pop sound was made as Ayden
poked a pointed awl-like object called a stylus through the holes as he
took Braille notes.  "Are any of these people still around?" "Not
everyone had the same opportunities as the Templeton's to leave town.
Other than Henry's work associates, I think most of them still live
around here.  At least the one's who are still alive." "Is there
anything else you can tell us?  Was there anything strange you noticed?
Any evidence that suggest something other than an accidental tumble down
the stairs?" The sheriff laughed.  "I know you city folk like to dream
up seedy happenings in small towns, but Henry Templeton's death was
nothing more than an accident.  Nothing dark about it." "Thank you for
your time," Ayden said extending his hand again to shake Sheriff
Jenkins's. Sheriff Jenkins sighed.  "Look, don't go digging anything up.
Just let the dead rest." Salma's bracelet tinkled as they stood. "We
understand.  I'm just trying to find things out about my grandfather for
the book.  You know, no stone uncovered," Ayden said. "Are you two
married?" Sheriff Jenkins asked. Ayden, confused by the switch, replied,
"No." The sheriff chuckled.  "Like your grandpa, I see." Ayden blushed,
but Salma said, "Ayden is nothing but a gentleman.  Clearly something he
did not pick up in this town." "I know the kind of men the Templeton's
are," the sheriff said. Unsure of what to do, Ayden turned to leave. "At
least he has a better chance of touching what you have been admiring
this whole time," Salma snapped.  She turned quickly and Ayden felt a
rush of breeze as she left the room.
 
Out in the car, Ayden apologized.
"I'm sorry.  I didn't know what to say."
"It's okay.  He was a pig."
"I didn't realize-"
"I know, its okay.  Where to next?"
Ayden could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone.  "The house, I
guess." As Salma pulled back out into the street devoid of traffic,
Ayden wondered why she had told Sheriff Jenkins what she had.  Was it
simply said in a moment of anger, or was there any truth in her words,
he thought.  He has a better chance of touching what you have been
admiring.  For the first time, Ayden thought of the possibilities with
Salma.
 
 
Ayden stood before the house remembering the bright blue it had been
during the few visits he had made during his childhood.  The house had
always stood out even among the street full of bright, cheery houses
complete with emerald lawns and award winning gardens.  The Templeton
house had a wrap-around porch with a veranda to the back opening onto a
large lawn complete with a British garden.  Its three stories reached
majestically towards the sky.
 
 
Ayden now gripped the rough, wooden railing of the house.  The feel of
the railing did not match his memory of the sleek, smooth dark wooden
banister. The stairs creaked as he stepped on them.  Reaching the porch,
he felt a slight dip and quickly stepped sideways in fear of falling
through the porch.  Children played nearby and cars languidly drove down
the street, but a strange silence surrounded the house.  It was as
though Ayden were underneath water trying to make out the distant
sounds.  The scent of jasmine passed briefly through his nose as Salma
stood next to him. "How does it look?" Ayden asked ignoring the scent.
Salma took a deep breath.  "It's run down, that's for sure.  I can't
believe no one has lived here for years." "My family still owns it, but
after my grandfather's death, no one wanted to do anything about it."
Ayden placed his hand on the cold handle of the dilapidated Victorian
house. He dug in his pockets for the rusty key he had found in his
father's office. As he inserted the heavy key in the lock, a quiet click
was heard.  Ayden pushed the solid door open.  He looked in Salma's
direction before stepping inside.  Shutting the door, the house engulfed
all sound like a tomb. "Creepy," Salma said as she shivered. Ayden
walked forward tapping his long white cane, arcing wide so as to not run
into anything.  Dust filled the air and Ayden coughed as he inhaled.
"This has been sitting for years," Ayden rasped.  "What's it look like?"
Salma looked around.  "It's really dark, but it's almost completely
empty. What do you think you'll find?" "I'm not sure.  Sheriff Jenkins
wasn't much help.  I just thought, maybe something." Salma's sandals
clipped-clopped as she walked over to a window to open it. "Well, if we
are going to be here long we need fresh air." Ayden felt a rush of
summer breeze as the window clambered up.  The sound of kids jumping
rope ruined the house's stolid silence.  Life entered the house again as
Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue. Salma clumped up the
stairs as Ayden moved from room to room feeling walls and any remaining
furniture, hoping to find something, anything.  He rifled through
drawers and cupboards.  So far his hands had only found dust and
cobwebs. "Ayden, Ayden!" Salma shouted a couple of hours later. Ayden
hurried towards the staircase.  "Salma!  Are you okay?" "Get up here!  I
found something!" Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.  Reaching the
top, he shouted, "What room?" "Um, it's a bedroom." Hearing her voice
off to his left, Ayden moved down the hallway.  At the end, he found a
door open. "Salma?" Salma's clapping sandals moved towards Ayden. "Look
at this," she said excitedly.  Her bracelet tinkled and paper crackled
as she shoved something in Ayden's hand. Ayden grinned.  "Um."  He
handed the paper back to Salma. "Oh-sorry.  I just-you won't believe
this." It was another letter; a love letter to Henry. Henry, My love, I
miss you.  I grow restless with each day.  I have waited years to be
with you, really be with you.  Let's stop the pretending, stop the lies.
Don't be mad with me.  I would do anything for you, but we must stop
hiding. There is no harm in this.  I will wait to hear from you, but
don't take long. Love,
A.     W.
Salma rushed through the letter almost in one breath.  Ayden was not
quite sure what her excitement was for. "We already know Henry was
having an affair of sorts," he said. Salma sighed impatiently.  "Ayden,
think about it.  Don't you see?" "Not really," he said slowly. She
grabbed his wrist.  Her slender fingers gripped him with a strength
Ayden would not have guessed at.  She moved in closer and once again,
Ayden took in the scent of jasmine.  This time he smelled something else
with it. Vanilla, he thought.  Salma shook his arm slightly bringing him
back to attention. "Ayden, A. W.  Don't you see it yet?" "A. W.?" "The
initials," she said exasperated, "A. W.  Alice Whitley." "Who's Alice
Whitley?" Salma smacked her forehead.  "Ay-where are your notes from
today?" Ayden pulled out the three-by-five note card from his back
pocket. "Now read through it," Salma said as though talking to a small
child. Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked sharply up
at Salma. "See?" Salma asked. "I can't believe we didn't realize it
then.  His secretary.  And Sheriff Jenkins said she's still living in
town." "Think we can find her?" "Give me a minute," Ayden said reaching
for his mobile phone tucked away in his pocket. An electronic hum came
from his phone as he maneuvered through the menus on his phone.  A
screen-reading program specific to mobile phones, helped Ayden utilize
the functions on his phone. "Got it.  There's only one Alice Whitley
that shows up in town." "Thank God for technology," Salma said.  "No
wonder no one could ever solve this case." Ayden smirked at her.  "Thank
God for accessible technology.  Come on.  She doesn't live far from here
and it's not too late."
 
Ten minutes later, Ayden and Salma knocked on a door.  The house was
less substantial than the Templeton house, but Salma described its
well-kempt lawn and cheery exterior. The door opened and a woman's voice
gasped, "Oh." "Miss Whitley?  I'm Ayden-" "Templeton," she said.  "You
look like Henry." Smiling, Ayden said, "Miss Whitley, this is my friend
Salma.  We're working on a book about my grandfather, and we would like
to ask you some questions." "Oh, of course.  Come in, come in." As the
door shut behind Ayden and Salma, he smelled a flower scent that he
couldn't place and a clock ticked nearby.  Alice Whitley ushered them
into a sitting room off the entryway.  Salma sat next to Ayden on the
soft couch while Alice sat across from them. "Can I offer you anything?
I just made lemonade." "That would be wonderful," Salma said. As Alice
left the room, Ayden turned towards Salma.  "I'm sorry, I didn't even
think to ask if you were hungry." "Hon, it's okay.  I didn't think about
it myself until now." "We'll have dinner after this; I promise."
"Promise?" Ayden grinned as Alice returned.  She placed an ice-cold
glass in Ayden's hand.  Ice chinked against the side as he took a gulp.
The cold liquid felt good down his throat after the dust of his family's
house.  He could only imagine how dirty he and Salma looked.  He felt
the mingled grime of sweat and dirt on his body.  Why had it not
occurred to them to stop somewhere first and wash up, Ayden thought.
"So, what can I help you with?  Henry was a dear friend and I miss him.
You must call me Alice." "Well, Alice, we specifically are interested in
his death," Ayden said. Alice choked on her lemonade.  "Why would you be
interested in that?" "I believe that maybe his death wasn't accidental."
"Oh dear, don't buy into those silly rumors.  Pete Jenkins conducted a
thorough investigation and no foul play was to be hinted at." "And yet
the rumors persist," Ayden said. "Silly gossip.  Housewives bored out of
there minds." "You know Sheriff Jenkins?" Ayden asked. "Darling, it's a
town of ten-thousand; everybody knows everybody." Ayden sipped on his
lemonade as Salma clicked her nails against the side of her glass. "We
have reason to believe maybe there is more to the story," Ayden said. He
affected his best courtroom demeanor.  He had seen his father like this
hundreds of times. Alice swirled ice chuncks around in her glass.  Her
voice had lost some of its cheeriness when she responded by asking,
"What makes you say that?" Ayden found the love letter in a folder.  He
removed the Braille label, setting the letter on the coffee table
dividing Ayden and Salma from Alice. The room grew still.  The letter
rustled as Alice picked it up.  When she spoke, she sounded choked as
though she were holding back tears. "Where did you find this?" "It was
in some old boxes in the Templeton home," Salma said. A long silence
followed in which Ayden could hear Alice sniffling. "I suppose the truth
has to come out sooner or later," Alice said quietly. "We don't
need-a-details of anything, but is there any reason to think Henry was
killed?" Ayden soothed. "Your grandfather hired me when I was eighteen,"
Alice began, ignoring Ayden.  "I instantly fell in love with him, but he
was that type.  Dashingly handsome, charming to a fault.  He was a few
years older than me, but I knew how all the girls waited for their
chance to rope Henry into marriage.  I felt so lucky to see him
everyday.  I started out as a simple receptionist, but eventually he
promoted me to his personal secretary." "Did you move with my
grandparents then, when they moved?" Ayden asked. Alice sighed.  "Yes,
but after-things happened-I moved back.  I remained in his employ,
working from the office here in town.  Before your father took charge,
Henry's headquarters had always been based from here." Ayden nodded his
head. "I never meant to hurt anyone.  Things happened.  Henry loved us
both, Lucy and I.  I tried to end it for years, but Henry always showed
up with that smile of his.  Then I tried to make him choose.  I
should've known better, but I was in love." Alice continued to spill her
story, hoping for redemption perhaps. "The final straw came right before
his death.  We had carried on for almost forty-years and I knew it had
to stop.  We fought.  I threatened to tell Lucy and that was that.  He
left me promising to choose.  I waited for an answer, but a week later,
Henry was found dead." "Did you ever tell anyone?" Ayden asked. "No."
 
Ayden and Salma stood by the car outside Alice's house.  A breeze
tousled Ayden's hair and Salma gently combed her fingers through his
dark tresses. "Seems like all you Templeton men are irresistible," she
said teasingly. Unsure of how to respond to her comment, he grinned, but
before he could make a remark, Ayden heard her car door click open.  He
slid into the passenger seat, heart pounding. "You promised me dinner,"
Salma whined playfully.
 
After devouring diner-style hamburgers and fries, Ayden and Salma found
themselves walking through the downtown area.  Salma kept up with
Ayden's stride as his cane tapped in a shoulder-length-arc. "Sometimes I
think it would be nice to live in a small town," Salma mused. "Really,
you?  Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day," Ayden joked. "I could
drive to the city.  I don't know.  It seems like a nice place to raise a
family." Ayden had never heard Salma speak about kids or families.  As
well as he knew her, Ayden realized there was plenty he still had to
learn about Salma. "Yes, we could raise happy little kids who will grow
up to cheat, lie and murder," Ayden scoffed. "We, huh?" Ayden blushed,
feeling the heat creep up his neck to his face.  He hadn't caught his
blunder.  He sputtered, but before he could make sense of his words,
Salma grabbed his hand. "Maybe we can live in the Templeton mansion,"
she said. They walked silently back to the car. "It's pretty late, what
should we do?" Salma asked. Ayden flipped the crystal face of his watch
up.  Feeling the raised dots and arrows with his pointer finger on his
Braille watch, he said, "It's a quarter to eleven.  I'm beat." "Me too.
I don't really feel like driving back tonight though." Ayden scratched
his head.  "I guess we can stay at casa-de-Templeton." "Okay, but no
funny business," Salma joked. Sitting in the car, Ayden said, "By the
way, unlike some men in my family, I'm more of a one-woman type."
 
They stood on either side of the king-size bed in the master bedroom.
"Sure you don't want to sleep in another room?" Ayden asked. "Hell no!
This house is creepy." "I thought you wanted to raise children here?"
"Shut-up.  Scared to sleep with a girl?"  The bed creaked as Salma lay
down on it.  "A bit musty." They had found spare bed linens in a box and
had attempted to shake them out as best they could.  Ayden had noticed a
lingering wispy scent of flowers that he could not place.  It may have
been the remnants of something used to launder the linens years ago, he
had thought. Without thinking, Ayden removed his shirt and handed it to
Salma.  "Here. You can wrap your pillow in it." "Thanks," Salma said
drawing the word out. Realizing what he had just done, he blushed for
the millionth time that day. Not able to turn back what he had done,
Ayden lay slowly down, sticking close to the edge. "Keep your hands
above the blankets," Salma yawned.
 
Ayden woke disoriented at first, but comprehension quickly dawned as he
felt Salma's small body nestled against his.  She snored quietly and
Ayden smiled.  This was nice, he thought.  He extracted himself gently
from the bed, trying to not wake Salma. He needed to use the bathroom,
but it struck him that the bathrooms would not be in working order.  It
was primitive, but it would have to do, he thought as he found his way
downstairs and out into the back garden.  Hoping no neighbors were awake
to see him, he relieved himself. Half asleep still, his eyes snapped
open as a slight shuffle came from behind him.  Finished with his
midnight chore, he listened intently, but no sound came again.  He
turned around, gripping his cane in one hand. "Hello," he said. No
response came.  He turned back towards the house and as he walked, Ayden
felt his back tingle.  It was the sensation he felt as a child when
terrified, feeling a presence behind him.  He was an adult now, he
chided himself.  Forcing himself to walk calmly back into the house, he
reached the French doors and entered.  As he went to shut the doors, a
soft shuffle started in the darkness again.  It could have been the long
dead foliage rustling in the breeze, but Ayden placed himself in the
doorway again.  The noise instantly stopped. Slamming the door and
locking it, Ayden flew to the stairs, taking three steps at a time.
Heart pounding, blood rushing in his ears, Ayden felt a cool breeze cut
through the stuffy air of the bedroom.  DeMint, he swore to himself.
They had opened windows before going to bed, hoping to air out their
lodgings for the night. Salma still was sleeping peacefully on the bed.
He sat on the bed resting his head on the large carved headboard,
listening. Crickets chirped outside and the breeze rustled the leaves of
trees from time to time.  Salma continued her snoring.  Silence loomed
around the house.  Ayden waited to hear the shuffle noise again or a
step on the stairs, but nothing came.  He relaxed after fifteen minutes
of vigilante guarding. Laying back down on the bed, one arm behind his
head, he smiled when Salma threw an arm across his chest.  Thinking only
of Salma by now, Ayden drifted back off to sleep.
 
The second time Ayden woke he knew where he was, but something was not
right.  Salma still snored next to him as he spooned her, but an acrid
odor filled his nostrils.  A loud crack made him bolt up in bed. "Salma!
There's a fire!"  He shook her until she woke up. "We need to get out of
here," Ayden shouted as she slowly regained a conscience state. Ayden
flew to the open door.  Smoke filled his nose and made his eyes water.
"Salma, I can't tell if we can make it down the stairs." Standing next
to him, she said, "All I can see is smoke.  Can we jump out the window?"
"We're on the second floor.  It's pretty high up." Now across the room,
Ayden heard Salma cry, "Oh-my-god!  Ayden!" "What?" "I can see flames
around the base of the house." "Shit."  Trying to think, Ayden gathered
up the sheet from the bed.  Dousing it with water from the couple
bottles purchased last night, he threw the sheet at Salma.  "Wrap
yourself in this." "Why?" "Just do it." Making sure her long hair was
covered, Ayden threw Salma over his shoulder. Grabbing his cane by the
door, he moved into the hallway.  Hoping the shirt tied around his face
would keep out smoke, Ayden ran to the top of the stairs.  Despite the
situation, Ayden could not help notice the harlequin-romance-like
predicament. He heard Salma say something, but her face was muffled and
he could not understand her.  Tucking his cane underneath his arm, he
groped the banister which still seemed intact.  Finally reaching the
bottom, he found his way to the front door and opened it.  A rush of
fresh air greeted him.  Feeling heat, he hoped he could make it off the
porch.  At the top of the stairs, panicked, he placed Salma upright
again.  She struggled to loosen the sheet around her. "Are the flames
here too?" Ayden asked. "No, but there coming from behind." At the end
of the drive, Ayden dialed 911 on his phone.  Neighbors could be heard
coming from their own houses.  A few ran up to Ayden and Salma asking if
they were okay. Standing at a distance, Ayden could hear the roar of
flames.  Salma held his hand as they waited in silence for the sound of
sirens.
 
Ayden rested on the back bumper of Sheriff Jenkins's police cruiser.
The mid-morning sun warmed his face.  Still shirtless, a blanket draped
his shoulders.  A gritty smudge crossed his forehead and he could still
smell the smoke embracing his body. Once the firemen had extinguished
the fire, Sheriff Jenkins and his deputy, a man about Ayden's age, drove
Salma and Ayden to the police station.  Each gave a report before Nick
was contacted. Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of water.  He
gulped the cool liquid down as Salma rested her head against his
shoulder.  Sniffing her hair laced with a flower scent and smoke, Ayden
protectively placed an arm around her. "Ayden," Salma said in quiet
surprise, "Alice Whitley is here." Ayden pulled the blanket closed as he
waited for Alice to approach.  A new scent filled his nostrils.  This
too smelled of flowers, but it was not the framiliar jasmine and vanilla
Salma wore.  Through the fog of his brain, he tried to place where he
had smelled this scent before. "I'm glad you two are alright," Alice
spoke quietly.  "I can't believe this. Do you need anything?" "Thank
you, but we're okay," Salma said warmly. "Pete phoned me this morning-"
"Sheriff Jenkins?  Why?" Ayden asked. Alice didn't respond. Waiting for
an answer, Ayden finally recognized the flower scent that had lingered
in the closet where he and Salma had found bed linens. "Alice, did you
visit the house after we left you yesterday?" Alice made a noise as
though she were suppressing it in her throat.  She never answered and
before Ayden could ask anything else, he heard her muffled footsteps on
the grass as she walked briskly away. "Ayden?" Salma puzzled. "Her
perfume, it's the same smell I noticed in the closet last night."
"Ayden, that's where I found the letter too," Salma whispered." Ayden
heard the swish of grass as someone else walked towards them.  It was
Nick. "Are you crazy?" Nick asked, bewildered. "I'm fine.  Nice to see
you too, Dad." Nick let out a long breath before saying, "Your mother
and I went crazy when we heard what happened.  We're glad you're okay."
"Is the house ruined?" Ayden asked. Salma shifted and sat upright next
to Ayden. "It's mostly the garden that was ruined, but there is damage
to the house." Ayden felt his chest tighten.  The garden had been Lucy's
favorite place. Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall
bushes as Lucy tended to her beloved flowers.  Interrupting his
thoughts, Ayden heard a shuffling footstep approach.  Another memory
pushed itself front and center in his mind.  As Sheriff Jenkins stopped
his pace, Ayden gave him a hard look. "Tom says it will take a few weeks
to get reports back, but there is some structural damage to the house,
Nick," the sheriff said. "Taken any midnight strolls to clear your mind
lately?" Ayden directed to Sheriff Jenkins. No one spoke.  Salma gripped
his hand. "Any reason why you'd call Alice Whitley early this morning?"
Ayden continued. "Drop it," Nick hissed at Ayden. Thrown off by Nick's
tone, Ayden squeezed Salma's hand, unsure what to do. "I'm sure we're
all tired and need to collect our thoughts," Sheriff Jenkins said.
"Maybe you ought to take these two home, Nick."  Ayden heard the
lumbering shuffle again as Sheriff Jenkins walked away.
 
 
Ayden sat in front of the computer.  A buzz issued from the speakers as
JAWS, a text-to-speech program, sounded off with each command Ayden
typed. "Still working?" Salma asked from behind. Ayden leaned his head
back against her stomach.  She was wrapped in a large soft towel.  He
slipped his hand through the folds, but she turned swiftly away,
laughing. Spewing a torrent of Spanish at him, Ayden chuckled.  "That
just turns me on more." "I called you a great big moron whose brain is
the size of his-" "Doesn't matter.  Still sounds sexy." Salma whipped
another towel at him before scampering to the bedroom. Turning back to
his work, Ayden decided to check his email. As he clicked on the
necessary links using Hotkey commands, he thought over the past few
weeks. Ayden had told his father what happened, but Nick said that
everything was circumstantial.  Ayden knew this, but he also knew he had
opened something up.  Something that had been meant to remain secret.
Nick refused to open any investigation and he remained tight-lipped
about anything he knew. The fire was officially reported as an unknown
accident since no evidence, either way, had been found determining a
cause.  This, at least, was how the police report read.  Ayden, though,
had inquired into the fire-chief's report.  It too was inconclusive, but
this report did mention that a match book had been found near the
premises.  Salma had advised Ayden to wait before attempting any further
investigation. Salma had been the reason he was able to let the weeks
slip by without searching for more clues.  Once they had returned to the
city, Ayden had found the courage to express his budding feelings
towards Salma. They had sat on the couch talking; a typical Friday night
for them, except this time Ayden could feel a growing anticipation
between them.  Salma had stood to get another beer from the kitchen when
Ayden reached for her wrist. His large palm had felt bigger next to her
slim wrist.  Both had stared silently at one another.  Ayden, thinking
he would win this game since he couldn't see, broke first.  Grinning
with a smirk, he had pulled Salma to him and kissed her. Three weeks
later, their routine was continued as normal, yet something was
different.  They had transitioned into this new element with ease, as
though it were meant to be.  Their friendship was strengthened by the
new romance. Still reminiscing, Ayden did not recognize the name given
for the first email he came across.  Opening it up, he read the
following: Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you
stop your investigation immediately.  Heartache and harm can only befall
you.  Thank your luck and live long and well with your beautiful new
love. There was no signature.  Alarmed, Ayden checked the From field,
but the only information this provided was aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.
Ayden's pulse quickened.  Hearing Salma pad lightly back into the room,
he closed the window he was in.  He thought it was best to not alarm her
just yet. Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear hug,
Ayden knew this was just the beginning.
  		 	   		  
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Message: 5
Date: Fri, 08 Oct 2010 09:27:43 -0500
From: BDM <lists at braddunsemusic.com>
To: <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: Re: [stylist] detective short fiction "Sense of Murder" some
	language, alludes to sexual content
Message-ID: <6.2.3.4.2.20101008081531.02bc0150 at www.braddunsemusic.com>
Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii"; format=flowed

I'm enjoying this story. Below are  some notes as I read...

Conflicting feeling/message:
...That had been the beginning of their friendship.  They had spent many
nights talking until three in the morning and hanging out on weekends.
Salma was the one connection Ayden had to the outside world.  Once
moving away from his family, he had become a recluse of sorts.  He
showed up to the office for work, attended cocktail parties required for
work and even dated a couple of girls, but Salma was the one person he
truly felt comfortable with...

BD: It sounds like he had all kinds of connections to the outside 
world to me here. Work, dates, business parties. Not the image of a 
recluse in my view.

Blindness accessibility commentary:

...his cane tapped, Ayden was sure he found the door.
"No Braille, is this it?" he shouted back to Salma...

BD: If a sighted reader was reading they actually might not get this 
without spoon feeding... 'He slid his hand along the door 
jamb/front/address plate/whatever..."no Braille...'"
instead of just "no Braille". But it sort of stood out as a jab  or 
inside perspective at there aren't Braille on many doors which to me 
seemed unnecessary in this context.

Travel descriptions: Again if this is meant for general consumption 
the "inside baseball" descriptions of the travel motions  seem to 
stand out of place to me. For example...

Ayden followed the sheriff into a room off the main section of the
department.  His cane swep the inside of the door frame, indicating the
width so Ayden avoided bumping into the edges of the frame.  Ayden asked
where a chair was and turned in the direction Captain Jenkins indicated.
Once again, his cane found the chair and sliding the cane across the
seat, Ayden determined where the front of the chair was.  Salma's arm
brushed his

BD: However I think the below example is very natural...

...interrogation room.  Ayden twisted his cane between his fingers.
Salma bobbed her foot which was lightly kicking Ayden's shin.

BD: I will say if this book is  targeting blind readers then the 
travel discriptions are probably more appreciated in the storyline. 
These aren't story killers by anymeans but I'm just looking at a real 
good story here and looking how it might be better from  a general 
readers perspective.

Dialog confusion:

Ayden leaned against the table looking straight in the direction where
Sheriff Jenkins sat.  "I thought Henry was a catch?  You know, a lawyer
from a wealthy family." "He was a playboy.  Always was, never changed."
"Who did you question about his death?" Salma broke in.

BD: I was confused who said what about the catch and playboy. I 
assume its the Sherriff  but the dialog was set up as if it were 
Ayden stating it.

slate and Stylist: I think the description of the slate and stylist 
is a good thing in that showing how he's noting stuff   but not sure 
a sighted person will understand the "cells" part. Perhaps describing 
it as a series of rectangular holes with indents underneath similar 
to the number six on a dice. I don't know it would be easy to go too 
far in description here.

Sarcasm or not?: At this part...

his phone.  A screen-reading program specific to mobile phones, helped
Ayden utilize the functions on his phone. "Got it.  There's only one
Alice Whitley that shows up in town." "Thank God for technology," Salma
said.  "No wonder no one could ever solve this case." Ayden smirked at
her.  "Thank God for accessible technology.  Come on.  She doesn't live
far from here and it's not too late."

BD: I was confused at the "No wonder no one could ever solve this case"
comment. Was it sarcasm of some sort or a plug for 
technology? The Sherriff admited this was a small town, and in small 
towns everyone knows everyone who is around so  while Ayden would 
need technology, the locals wouldn't need it to find Ms Whitley 
or  solve the case. So I was just a bit baffled there.

Conversation reality: At...

"Miss Whitley?  I'm Ayden-"
"Templeton," she said.  "You look like Henry."

BD: I doubt a stranger would tell another they looked like someone 
right out of the gate like that. Even if she thoght it, and perhaps 
that ought be what is said here to add to the mysteriousness of the 
story, but even if she thought it, I doubt she'd say it out loud.

Love growing: I like the flirty playfulness of Ayden and Salma but it 
seemed to move pretty fast from the apparent long friendship they had 
going, granted this is a short story so things might need to move 
along but love stories/flirting likes tensionand release subtlies and 
it just seemed to move a bit fast... sort of  like gulping a chunk of 
chocolate without savoring it :). . I got the impression they were 
living together when he was at the computer and she wore a towel 
behind him then slipped off to the bedroom. Maybe just a little 
clarity. I wondered whose place they were in, why was she in a towl 
in the first place. But I did like the playfulness of the scene.

Overall I really like this story. I'm intrigued how the puzzle pieces 
are going to fit. There are lots of mysteries at once with all the 
characters, very nice writing IMO.

Are you going to or had you finished the mystery?

Brad





con  




------------------------------

Message: 6
Date: Fri, 8 Oct 2010 12:19:43 -0400
From: "Pat Harmon" <pharmon222 at comcast.net>
To: "Jennifer Harmon" <jennifer.harmon at SourceMedia.com>
Cc: NFBnet Writer's Division Mailing List <stylist at nfbnet.org>
Subject: [stylist] no more mystery
Message-ID: <000a01cb6704$9e652530$bab15144 at default3gx6vng>
Content-Type: text/plain;	charset="iso-8859-1"

I went to bed with the "pewter" on my mind, although it did not cost me
any sleep.  Foolish not to look below.  There is was, the little figures
I love.  Memories are endless.

Perhaps the housecleaners moved them.  I don't know.  They are best on
display.  I thought maybe they were in your apartment, but I had no
recollection of that.  My mind creates tales.

Now, I am searching for breadcrumbs.  Eleanor gave me a recipe for
cauliflower.  It was out on the counter, and it is the biggest I've ever
bought.

I am hoping to hear from the newest Grandma I know!  I might have a ride
to Mahwah occasionally.  A fellow Lion has a daughter there.  Maybe that
could work out.

Ah, luck shall be with me for new flooring tomorrow.  Then, I must walk
gingerly across it

Did I pay for your latest hairdo?  There was a bill and the name had
something to do with coiffures.  It was two hundred or so.

How Do you spell pewter anyway?  I'm feeling spelling impaired!

Smile, Hobo!  It is Fabulous Frrivolous fantastic fine foolish fortunate
Friday!!

------------------------------

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End of stylist Digest, Vol 78, Issue 5
**************************************