Baby, It's Dead Outside

by E M Kaplan

  Seriously. How bad could it be?

  “Well, there’s cold, like cute cold. Snowflakes on your nose and eyelashes cute. And then there’s cold, like flay the skin off your bones, frostbite after five minutes of exposure cold.”

  “I’ll be fine. It’s only for a little while—a few days.”

  Susan’s silence was heavy with skepticism.

  “I realize you think I’m still an Arizonan, but I was born in New England. I’m not new at winter. I have a coat. I have boots. I can find mittens if I need them.”

  More silence. Then she asked, “This is for Greta Williams, isn’t it?”

  Josie took a turn at being silent.

  “I regret the day I introduced you to her. She’s gotten you into nothing but trouble ever since that first trip to Arizona.”

  Josie had to disagree. Sure, she’d been injured a few times…and mayyybe almost killed once, but her life had been rich and full of adventure since she’d been added to Greta’s payroll.

  Okay, maybe not the woman’s regular payroll. More like her contractor slush fund. Or petty cash envelope. Loose change jar, maybe.

  “You’re just jealous she’s my new BFF,” Josie said. Even though she was totally teasing Susan, the silence resumed on the other end of the line, and she suddenly wondered if she’d struck a nerve. “You know I’m kidding, right?”

  Susan sighed. “Yeah, I know. I’m just frustrated with myself. My building was sold and the new owners are giving me six months to find a new place—which is more than generous—but you know how I am.”

  “I do know how you are.” Josie had gotten mixed up with a problem involving the owners of the deli below her friend’s apartment. More than a little problem, actually—one of them had ended up dead. Since that incident, Susan had become even more agoraphobic than just her previous quirky—secretly nerdy—and socially anxious self. “And I promise I will help you find a new place when I get home in a few days.”

  “I know you will,” Susan said on an exhale.

  “Good. Hey—I’m traveling in pretty much a straight line west, but I have to pay attention to the road,” Josie said. “I’ll call you tomorrow. In the meantime, brush your hair and change into some clean pajamas.”

  A short silence ensued. “How do you always know these things?”

  “I can hear the static crackling on your fleece Pikachu onesie even this far away.”

  “No you can’t.”

  “I guessed right, didn’t I?”

  “Fine. Talk to you tomorrow,” Susan said pretending to be grumpy, but Josie could hear the smile in her friend’s voice.

  And that, folks, is why she keeps me around.

  Chapter 3

  “Chicago in February can’t be that bad, right?” Josie muttered again, this time in an attempt to convince herself.

  She shivered and grabbed her suitcase with gloved hands, hauling it out of the rental SUV. She closed the rear hatch and gazed around, and her breath came out in visible puffs in the frigid air. Her dog, Bert, peered out at her from the front window of the house where they’d be staying. His nose made steamy smears on the glass, as she and her new landlady, Sandra, climbed the crumbling cement steps of a green Victorian with dark violet trim on Lincoln Street in the tiny Illinois town.

  “Oh, sweetie, we’re not in the city,” Sandra said, her tone implying that Josie was adorably misinformed. “This is Lake Park Villa. We’re not that far from Canada, and as you know, Canadians are so very nice, but their arctic blasts are terrible. Even though we’re not as cold as they are, no matter what the calendar says, we won’t see spring until June.” Sandra made a brrr noise and wrinkled her freckled nose.

  “But it was bright and sunny earlier today.” Josie had been warm in the car. The rays coming through the windshield had heated it into a mobile greenhouse, complete with Bert’s gases. “Didn’t I see signs for an outdoor festival?”

  “Our Gabby the Goose party is a winter celebration, hon. People ice skate in the little rink in the center of our town square. There’s an ice sculpture contest and a big bonfire at midnight to welcome back our favorite Canadian goose Gabby. We drink hot chocolate and eat goose-shaped cookies. Then we go inside before we all freeze our butts off.”

  “That sounds…pleasant,” Josie said, trying to keep the skepticism out of her voice. She set down her Samsonite and patted Bert on the head as she looked around at the battered but lovely wood floors and pocket doors. The house had higher ceilings than she would have expected and plenty of natural light from the large windows in the rounded front room.

  “Oh, it’s not. It’s rather horrible. Not nice in the least. Last year they started live-streaming the festivities on social media. Now I watch from my living room with a hot cup of coffee in front of my fireplace. Speaking of which,” she said, pointing at the hearth with its olive-green subway tiles, “this one is wood-burning. There’s a cord of wood behind the house. Help yourself to it, or if you need someone to haul it in here, my nephew Harris lives in the yellow house right across the street. He’ll come shovel your drive if we get significant snow. A little dusting and you’re on your own, but if there’s a lot, he’ll take care of it—and he’s always around. No worries if you ever need anything. He can be over here in the blink of an eye.”

  Josie glanced out the window. No, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.

  

  Sandra gave Josie an abbreviated tour of the rest of the house from where they stood in the foyer. “Kitchen, fridge, cable TV, washer and dryer off the kitchen, one bedroom on the second floor with a bath, and another bedroom at the very top of the stairs. Extra blankets in the cedar chests at the foot of both beds. There’s a basement apartment downstairs with its own entrance, but it’s being renovated right now, so it’s vacant.”

  “This wallpaper is really pretty,” Josie said, staring at the green pattern of leaves and swirls. In any other setting it might have seemed a little garish, but it fit the Victorian house perfectly.

  “Funny thing about that,” Sandra said. “The original pattern it’s based on was actually a William Morris design, but the green dye was full of poison. This is a reproduction, of course, so it’s totally safe. These old Victorians could kill you back in the day. If it wasn’t the wallpaper, it was the lead paint, or faulty wiring and later on, asbestos.” She caught a glimpse of Josie’s face. “But don’t worry. This little old lady is totally safe and up to code. She’s been completely rehabbed over the years.”

  “That’s…good to hear,” Josie said. All the same, she wasn’t ready to lick the walls or leave the stove on any time soon.

  Sandra went on. “Thermostat is by the stairs. I’ll let you adjust it as you like, just don’t go crazy. I was freezing cold my whole life until I hit menopause a couple years ago. Now I can’t tell what’s a normal temperature—but you’re too young for all that. I’ll say no more and leave the lovely surprises for you to discover on your own. Life’s no fun without a little mystery. My nephew says I’m a compulsive over-sharer, so just ignore me.”

  “I’m sure the house will be fine,” Josie said.

  The tall and thin, green and purple Painted Lady here in middle America was full of personality, like the pretty, whimsical stained glass hexagon in the wall between the sitting and dining rooms. Josie felt like she’d taken a vacation into a storybook from the early part of the century. The previous century, not recent and young like a Millennial, she corrected herself.

  The walls had ornate rosettes and curlicues the color of dark chocolate that made Josie try to remember when she’d last eaten. Maybe it was her empty stomach, but she could almost smell cookies baking. However, she wouldn’t be staying long enough to worry about her accommodations much. Even if the place was awful—which it certainly wasn’t—she wouldn’t mind staying for a week or two if she had to.

  “Well, you made it here just in time. There’s a cold front coming in a couple days. It’s supposed to be a doozy.”

  Josie
had been through winters in Boston. She wasn’t scared…

  Should I be? she suddenly wondered.

  “You brought a coat, right?” Sandra asked, wrinkling her nose as she squinted.

  Josie looked down at the down-filled jacket she was wearing, another hint of misgiving snaking its way up her spine. The bottom of it hit her right below the waist, so she was covered from hips to wrists to chin by dark green 100% nylon and fleece.

  “This is my coat,” she said, hoping she wasn't stating the obvious. The New Hampshire company she’d ordered it from had rated it resistant to subzero temps. Hopefully the description had been truthful. Little white lies were okay in social situations, but no one liked a fibber of a catalog.

  “Oh,” Sandra said, managing to make that one word sound both disparaging and apologetic at the same time. She quickly changed the subject, Josie noticed frowning down at her clothes.

  “Your aunt said you were only staying a couple weeks until you finish writing your book. Is that true? That’s so exciting. You’re lucky I was offering this place as an Airbnb. I usually have a long-term lease, but my last tenant moved out unexpectedly and I was stuck for the winter. I brought my furniture out of storage and voilà, here you are. It’s so hard to get people to come here in the winter. Everything shuts down around here except the square. Lots of cute shops and places to eat. You’ll have to go look at our local bookstore. Maybe you can come back and do a signing later. I’m sure they’d be glad to have you.”

  Josie wasn’t actually writing a book, just like she didn’t actually have an aunt, other than a fake one—her sometimes boss. Without Greta’s odd to-do list that she seemed bent on having Josie complete, she might have gone her whole life without venturing into this part of Illinois which from the highway had seemed to be mostly cornfields, bars, pawn brokers, and gun shops—a somewhat ominous combo of businesses. A burglar’s delight.

  “Too bad it’s not a little warmer. The square is dog-friendly, too, as long as your pooch is well-behaved.” Sandra looked at Bert, who had passed out on his side with his feet stretched out next to the heat duct on the wooden floor planks.

  Josie added, “Or has a pulse.”

  Her landlady chuckled. “You had a long drive from Boston. He’s probably glad to stretch out and get comfy.”

  Josie and Bert had been in an SUV for the last two days, other than a stop in the upper west corner of Pennsylvania for a night. Greta had rented her a Cadillac. Not the massive Escalade, but one of the more reasonably sized crossover SUVs in a blue-gray color. The thing still had all the bells and whistles. Back up camera and satellite radio and enough dashboard lights to make her feel like she was piloting the Space Shuttle—but one that had been built for a person her size, or “stunted,” as her goofy, lovable friends teased her. As soon as Bert discovered the seat warmers in the front, he’d decided to sit next to her. “He didn’t really pull his weight with the driving,” Josie said. “Maybe if he had thumbs, he’d be a better driver.”

  “Ah well. I have three furry freeloaders of my own. What can you do? At least they’re cute. So, when your aunt rented the house for you, she mentioned you have more family here. Is that right?” Sandra asked.

  Josie stood in her stocking feet in the foyer looking at the carved wooden wall paneling while Sandra pulled on her fur-lined boots and wrapped about twenty feet of purple scarf around her head and neck until only her lively brown eyes were visible through the multiple layers of wool.

  “Hm?” She frowned before she recalled Sandra’s question was the other part of her cover story for visiting the area. Actually, the main reason she was here. She went into recitation mode—this was the darned part she’d practiced after all. “Right. My other aunt, Lynetta, is in the Pleasant Valley nursing home.” There, Josie had gotten it out, sounding half-natural. She was the worst liar ever. Usually her face ticked or her voice cracked mid-fib.

  Sandra’s voice was muffled by all the layers of wool as she asked, “The memory care wing?”

  Josie hoped the panic was not evident on her face. Greta hadn’t mentioned that part. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I think she’s still sharp as a tack, but I haven’t seen her in recent days.” There, that was halfway decent fudging. In reality, she’d never met Lynetta Downes, and she hoped the older woman was a better liar than she was. Josie needed access to the facility and it would be easier if she posed as a family member.

  “My neighbor’s daughter’s friend, Marcy, works over there. Doing what, I don’t know. I hope it’s not wiping old butts and emptying nasty bedpans.” Sandra waved a hand in front of her face as if to dispel a bad odor. “I wouldn’t want that job for a million dollars, but some people don’t seem to mind. Not me. You know, the history of that place is kind of interesting. It used to be a boarding school for little boys back in the 1940s. They’d bring orphans out from Chicago and let them experience the country life. Cows, horses, that kind of thing.”

  On her way out the door, Sandra handed over the house keys and said apologetically, “We’re a two-grocery store town, so if you want to stock up the fridge, you should probably do that before it gets dark. Wouldn’t want you getting lost on your first day here.”

  “That sounds sinister.” How disoriented could Josie get in a small place like this? She lived in Boston, for crying out loud. That place’s street layout looked like it’d been set up by a crazed Pilgrim with brain rot.

  “It does get dark out here. I mean, really dark,” Sandra said, her voice dropping to a foreboding pitch. “No street lights in places, and there are a couple of valleys out here that are cell phone black holes.” At Josie’s questioning look, she explained, “No signal on your cell phone for some strange reason. I don’t know why. We have plenty of towers around here. The signal just goes away, so just be careful. You don’t want to end up in a ditch and freeze to death in your car. Anyway.”

  That was how she ended her sentence. Just the word, “anyway,” and that was it. She was out the door, leaving Josie hanging for the final part of her sentence. The batty woman waved a gloved hand and clomped down the front steps in her boots, making Josie wonder if she’d missed something.

  All righty then.

  Chapter 4

  Josie shut the door and walked to the kitchen past Bert, who was now flopped over on his back, legs jutting outward in different directions like a fuzzy canine compass. “I guess I don’t have to tell you to make yourself at home,” she said. “I, on the other hand, need food, and this refrigerator isn’t going to magically produce delicious goodies all by itself.” A General Electric side-by-side by way of Narnia would be nice if it provided an entryway to land of warm, sunny farmer’s markets any time she wanted.

  Digging her car keys out of her back pocket, she peered out the glass panes of the back door. A narrow driveway wound around the house into a tiny back part of the lot where a rickety wooden garage stood—mostly stood, she corrected herself, assessing the angle of its lean. She could park behind the house and bring her groceries up the wooden back steps directly into the kitchen. But she was going to avoid that garage, she decided. Filing insurance paperwork for a crushed rental car was not on the list of things she wanted to do.

  “Hey, who’s that?” she muttered with her face still pressed against the mottled glass.

  Even without leaves, the gnarled trunks of the century-old oak trees threw the back of the lot into shade—raking up the leaves in the fall here was probably a pain in the patootie—so she couldn’t make out any features of the dark figure that walked across the driveway into her house’s backyard. He or she passed out of Josie’s range of view and disappeared.

  “Where’d he go?” she asked Bert, who still hadn’t moved from his spot on the heat vent in the other room. His back paw twitched in his sleep. Some protection he was.

  When she turned back toward the window, a face was on the opposite of it, approximately two inches from hers. She screeched and emitted a curse word or two that might’ve raised a co
uple eyebrows in a truck stop. She definitely would’ve gotten The Look from the people who’d raised her to know better.

  “Hi in there!” A man, approximately six feet tall and maybe a hundred and thirty pounds at most in his puffy, down-filled designer vest waved his hand at her face as if he were two hundred yards away instead of two inches on the other side of the glass. “I’m your neighbor.” He pointed to the left. “From the house right there.”

  Oh, no, no, no. She wasn’t stupid. She was from a city—well, most recently—and she wasn’t about to open the door for some Jimmy Walker looking guy she’d never met in a strange town when it was almost dark, cold, and—

  “I brought you some cookies,” he said, holding up a plate.

  

  “So nice to meet you, baby,” he said, handing her the dish. “You can keep that platter, by the way. It belongs to Sandra. She brought us some homemade macaroons when Leslie and I moved in last summer, which was a risky gesture, I think. Not everyone likes coconut. Except with my mama being from the Bahamas, I got coconut milk running through my veins.”

  So, yeah, Josie had let him inside.

  Because, hello, cookies.

  Aloysius, as he said his name was, sat at the kitchen table with Bert at his feet. The man was one of the snazziest dressers Josie had seen in a long time in dark blue designer jeans and a pale yellow sweater over a crisp baby blue button-down shirt with a lovely darker blue and yellow plaid tie that pulled the two together. An impressive gold watch dangled on his bony ebony wrist—it had one of those faces with a lot of shiny gears and various sized dials that made it impossible to tell the time, but obviously, function didn’t matter when it was so pretty. Rounding out his ensemble were some gorgeous reddish-brown, wing-tipped shoes.

  “Are you settled in okay? You need anything, you just let little ol’ me know.” He looked around. “This is one of those bizarre houses with an extra room at the top where the attic should be. You’re sleeping up there, right? That’s where all the warm air will gather. You haven’t been down in the basement apartment, have you? Sandra said she was keeping that one closed up until the summer.”