[stylist] Sense of murder

[James H. "Jim" Canaday M.A. N6YR]

Bridgid,
I'm working through your story, it is very good!
I'm making comments as I read.
so, I expect to have comments for you soon.
nice job with characters of Ayden and Salma.
jc

At 04:01 PM 10/8/2010, you wrote:
>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-----
>From: stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org [mailto:stylist-bounces at nfbnet.org] On
>Behalf Of stylist-request at nfbnet.org
>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/>
> >
> > stylist mailing list
> > stylist at nfbnet.org
> > http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/listinfo/stylist_nfbnet.org
> > To unsubscribe, change your list options or get your account info for
> > stylist:
> > http://www.nfbnet.org/mailman/options/stylist_nfbnet.org/priscilla.mck
> > inley%40gmail.com
> >
>
>
>
>------------------------------
>
>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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><http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
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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.
>
>_______________________________________________
>Writers Division web site:
>http://www.nfb-writers-division.org
><http://www.nfb-writers-division.org/>
>
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>net
>
>
>
>
>
>------------------------------
>
>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
>**************************************
>
>
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