[stylist] detective short revision

[Bridgit Pollpeter]

Hey guys,
 
Since I shared the first draft with you lot, I thought I would share my
revision.  Again, I am not a detective fiction writer, nor do I wish to
be, but after your comments and my class workshop, I have made some
changes.
 
My fiction, unfortunately, is not as good as my nonfiction, but I do
like my two main characters.  I would like to continue something with
them.
 
Enjoy!
 
Bridgit
 
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.  A few 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 had found Ayden's grandfather lying at the bottom of the
staircase in his home.  His father never spoke about the incident after
reporting it to the police.  His father was allowing Ayden and Salma to
search through any items he kept though.

For years there had been whispers of foul play, but no one ever spoke
about the rumors.  The official ruling was that Henry Templeton, Ayden's
grandfather, had accidently fallen down the stairs.  Other than the
vicious gossip, there didn't seem to be any reason to think otherwise
until Ayden began researching his grandfather's life.  A few weeks of
poking around Henry Templeton's past, Ayden received a mysterious email.

 Your journey has just begun, but it is advisable that you stop your
investigation immediately.  Heartache and harm can only befall you

 Alarmed, but intrigued, Ayden picked up his research with new fervor.
Now he and his friend and neighbor, Salma, sat in his father's large
office surrounded by books and papers searching for clues that may
indicate a reason why his grandfather would have been murdered.

"So what's next?" Salma asked.  

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 his grandmother knew about it, she
could have killed Henry.

People had said his grandmother, Lucy, had been distracted and irritable
a couple of weeks before his grandfather's death.  When his father found
Henry at the bottom of the stairs, the only other person present had
been his grandmother.  Stunned by the event, his father had placed Lucy
in a nursing home.

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 again, 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 his grandfather had given the third edition
book to his grandmother for Christmas.  His grandmother 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.

After an accident had left Ayden blind, his father had refused to
believe Ayden could handle the work of a litigator, but Lucy had never
doubted his ability to do anything.

Now, Ayden and Salma found a letter enclosed in the pages of the book; a
letter suggesting a secret Ayden never knew about.

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.

When Ayden's father found Henry's body, Lucy had gone wild, screaming,
unable to leave Henry's lifeless body.  

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 black
mark attached to her memory.

Ayden never believed that his grandmother would hurt anyone.  She had
been fond of Ayden, and she never treated him like his life was over
after the accident.

"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 his grandparents had lived
in.  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.

His grandfather had started a small law firm in town, but eventually it
grew.  His grandparents had moved when Ayden's father, Nick, had been
ten.

Nick never spoke about his childhood though.  Ayden really didn't know
much about his family's past.  His grandparents had moved back to their
old house once Nick took the firm over, but Ayden had rarely visited the
home.  After his grandfather 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. 

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
when you asked about the letter."

He remembered how Nick had gone quiet and cold before telling him ,
"Leave it alone.  We don't dig up family history."

Ayden had tried to coax him 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."

"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 true connection Ayden had to
the outside world.

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.  After graduating from college, His father had told
him, "No one will ever respect a blind man in the courtroom.  Maybe the
firm can bring you on as a researcher."  Ayden was tired of his father's
attitude so he took a job writing for a small magazine and left the
family home.

Once moving away, 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.  My services don't come
free."  Salma giggled as she pulled into a parking stall.  "I think
we're here."

"Thanks, again, for taking the day off to help."

"Hey, I know you'd help me with stuff.  It's all so interesting; way
more interesting than filling in for waiters who don't show up for
work."

"You aren't at work, who's filling in for you?" Ayden said grinning at
her.

Salma smacked his arm.  "That's the benefit of being the owner's
daughter."

While Salma dropped coins into the parking meter, Ayden tapped his cane
along the brick walls looking for the door.  Hearing the difference from
the cane tip tapping on brick to the clink of glass, he figured he found
the door.

"No Braille, is this it?" he shouted back to Salma.

"Yes," 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 clicked on
the linoleum floor as she walked away.

Salma touched Ayden's arm.  "She had a weird look when you mentioned
your grandpa's name."

As the receptionist 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.
Finding the chair with his cane, he felt Salma's arm brush 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 with an edge
to his tone.

Ayden shifted his head towards Salma.  Even though he had been blind for
seven-years, Ayden still used visual gestures and body movement.  "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?  Wouldn't most have
jumped at the chance to marry into the Templeton family?  You know, a
lawyer from a wealthy family and all that."

"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 Madison , 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, fluttering Ayden's
collar up as she rushed past.

 

Back in the car, he said, "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?"

He could tell Salma was upset, but he left it alone.  "The house, I
guess."

As the car backed out into the silent street, 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.  Ayden smiled as he
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 reaching
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."

"So sad," Salma said quietly.

Ayden placed his hand on the cold knob 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?"

"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 playing ruined the house's stolid silence.  Life entered
the house again as Ayden began to feel around searching for any clue.

Ayden moved from room to room feeling walls and any remaining furniture,
hoping to find something, anything.  Making his progression from room to
room on the main floor, he heard Salma's muffled footsteps overhead.  He
smiled to himself as 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 where Salma's voice echoed from.
"Salma!  Are you okay?"

"Get up here!  I found something!"

Ayden clambered up the grand staircase.  Reaching the second floor, he
shouted, "What room?"

"Um, it's a bedroom."

He rolled his eyes.  "Right."  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 him.

"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.  If you don't choose me, I will marry Tom Madison.

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, her
tinkling crystal bracelet grazing his wrist,  bringing him back to
attention.

"Ayden, A. W.  Don't you see it yet?"

"A. W.?"

"The initials," she said exasperated, "A. W.  It's Alice Madison."

"Who's Alice Madison?"

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.

A second passed and Half way through his notes, Ayden stopped and looked
sharply up at Salma.

"See?" Salma asked.

"You think A. W. and Alice Madison are the same person?"

"It fits."

"Henry's secretary.  And Sheriff Jenkins said she's still living in
town.  She must have married this Madison guy."

"Think we can find her?"

"Give me a minute," Ayden said reaching for his mobile phone tucked away
in his pocket.  An electronic voice hummed from his phone as he
maneuvered through the menus.  

"Got it.  There's only one Alice Madison 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, they knocked on Alice Madison's door.  Salma
described the house's well-kempt lawn and green exterior.  She said that
flower boxes lined the windows and white shutters hung from the upstair
windows.

The door opened and a woman's voice gasped, "Oh."

"Mrs. Madison?  I'm Ayden-"

"Templeton," she said.  "You look like Henry."

Smiling, Ayden said, "Mrs. Madison, 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 Madison 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 the Templeton 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 coughed as she 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 small town; 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 observed 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?"

He found the love letter in a folder.  Removing the Braille label, he
set it on the coffee table dividing them from Alice.  "Did you write
this?" 

The letter rustled as Alice picked it up.  When she spoke, her voice
sounded strained 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 heard 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
him.  "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?" he 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 spilled 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, her car door clicked open.  He slid into the passenger
seat, heart pounding.

"You promised me dinner," Salma whined playfully.

 

 

Munching on diner-style hamburgers and fries, they took the opportunity
to relax.

"How come you didn't visit your grandparents much?" Salma asked.

"Not sure.  Mom and Dad were always busy.  Usually just my sister and I
came."

"Did you ever notice anything between them then?"

"No, but I was a kid."

"What about when you were older?"

"Naw, I was busy then too.  After the accident, though, I spent more
time with my grandma.  She was the only one who treated me like me
still, but she died shortly after that."

"I wish I could have met her."

"She would have liked you."

"I always hated seeing my family all the time, but now I'm glad we're so
close."

"Hey, let's walk around town."  Ayden slid out of the vinyl booth and
paid at the register.

Meeting Salma out by the car, they moved towards the downtown area.
Salma kept up with Ayden's stride as his cane tapped from side-to-side.

"Sometimes I think it would be nice to live in a small town," she mused.

"Really, you?  Ms. Have-to-go-shopping-every-other-day," he 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 wanting kids.  As well as he
knew her, he realized there was plenty he still had to learn.

"Yes, we could raise happy little kids who will grow up to cheat, lie
and murder," he 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 hand-in-hand.

"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, he said, "It's a quarter to eleven.  I'm beat."

"Me too.  I don't really feel like driving back tonight though."

He 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."

"Good to know."  Salma kissed his cheek.

Ayden laced his fingers through hers.

"I was wondering when you would make a move," she said.

Ayden reached for her face and leaned in to kiss her.  Her lips were
smooth and tasted of cherry.  Salma placed her hand on his face as they
held this pose for a minute.

 

Back at the Templeton house, 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, he 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 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," she 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 like a weapon
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 thirty-years-old
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 of the garden rustling in the breeze, but Ayden
couldn't be sure.  Placing 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.

Danmit, 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 as Ayden waited to hear the
shuffle again or a step on the stairs, but nothing came.  He relaxed
after fifteen minutes of his vigilante watch.

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
conscienceness.

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, 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 bottles purchased the night before, he threw
the sheet in Salma's direction.  "Wrap yourself in this."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

Making sure her long hair was covered, Ayden threw Salma over his broad
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 they could make
it off the porch.  At the porch steps, 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, the flames roared.  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 Ayden's father was contacted.

Salma approached Ayden now offering a cup of water.  He gulped the cool
liquid down as she rested her head against his shoulder.  Sniffing her
hair laced with the jasmine and vanilla scent and smoke, Ayden
protectively placed an arm around her.

"Ayden," Salma said in quiet surprise, "Alice Madison's 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 scent Salma wore.  Through the fog of his brain, he
tried to place where he had smelled this 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 suppressed-sounding noise.  She never answered and before
Ayden could ask anything else, her muffled footsteps padded 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 His father, 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 His grandmother's
favorite place.  Ayden remembered playing among the walk-ways and tall
bushes as she tended to her beloved flowers.  Interrupting his thoughts,
he heard a shuffling footstep approach.  Another memory pushed itself
front and center in his mind.  As Sheriff Jenkins stopped his pace,
Ayden gave a hard look in the direction of the noise.

"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 Madison early this morning?" Ayden
asked.

"Drop it," Nick hissed.

Thrown off by his father'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."  He
shuffled off.

 

 

Ayden sat in front of the computer.  A humming buzz issued from the
speakers as Ayden worked.

"Still working?" Salma asked from behind.

Ayden leaned his head back against her stomach.  She was wrapped in a
large soft towel.  Remembering last night, he slipped his hand through
the folds, but she turned swiftly away, laughing.

It had not been the first night one of them slept over at the other's
apartment, but it had been their first time together.  Excitement had
rushed over Ayden, but it had not felt awkward.

Salma spewed a torrent of Spanish at him, and he chuckled.  "That just
turns me on more."

"I called you a great big moron whose brain is tiny like 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.

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 him to wait before attempting any further investigation.  She
was worried about him.  Unsure if the fire had been an accident or not,
he agreed with her.

She 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 a couple
of days after the fire, Ayden had found the courage to express his
budding feelings towards her.

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.

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:

I'm glad you have stopped your investigation.  It is best to let the
dead rest.  Enjoy your new love and look only towards the future.

There was no signature.  Alarmed, Ayden checked the From field, but the
only information this provided was  <mailto:aconcernedfriend at gmail.com.>
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.

"Wann' stay here again tonight?" he asked.

"You know, we live across the hall from one another.  Should we just
make this permanent?"

"Sure you can live with a guy?"

"Well, I guess if it's you I can."

He lunged for her, but she ran giggling across the room.

"This is the great thing about dating a blind guy, he can't catch me."

"Oh yeah?"

Salma shrieked as he flung his body across her path, blocking her dash
to the bedroom.  Holding Salma close against him, wrapping her in a bear
hug, Ayden knew this was just the beginning.