Once Upon an Equinox

by Dovie Ruth

  “Hair color might change, but DNA doesn’t.” The investigator’s right eyelid twitched. “There are some intact hair roots in our sample. Unfortunately, no skin tags are attached to those roots. That only happens when the hair is forcefully pulled out. Those skin tags are what we need for a useable profile.”

  Chad studied the gumshoe. “I don’t understand how any of this is good news.”

  “And by the way,” Delaney interrupted, “what about my belongings? Am I ever going to get my personal items that were scattered all over my room?”

  “Eventually, but it will be a while.”

  “And my Mustang? And my purse?”

  “An alert has been posted for your car.” Detective Travis rolled his pencil between his tense thumb and fingers. “And there has been some activity on your credit cards in Pixley.”

  “Pixley?” Chad scoffed. “Nobody ever goes to that little whistle stop.”

  “In this case, somebody did go to several gas stations and convenience stores. Fortunately, they were unsuccessful." The investigator grinned. "You’ve alerted your bank and closed out those cards, right?”

  “Yes,” Chad assured the detective. “The cards have been cancelled.”

  Delaney moaned. “I don’t feel a whole lot better. Those creeps are still out there wandering around.”

  “Just be patient,” Detective Travis advised. “Eventually, it will all come unraveled. In the meantime, I will set up an appointment at the church, and we can all meet there.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jewel hugged Delaney close to her ample bosom. “Oh, dear Lord, I am so thankful you and your sweet baby are safe.”

  Delaney basked in the outgoing church lady’s welcome. “You remember me?”

  “Of course, I do! And I’ve been worried sick about you since I started hearing all the news about the fire at The Tilted Plume.”

  “I want you to meet my husband, Chad.” Delaney stepped aside so Jewel and Chad could shake hands.

  Detective Travis cleared his throat. “Reverend Eades, do you have a private place where we can sit and talk?”

  “Yes, we can meet in my office.” Reverend Eades led the way. His long stiff legs marked off the steps of their path through the foyer, the sanctuary, then down a narrow hall to his office. His jaw clenched and unclenched above his white collar. He provided a chair for everyone: Detective Travis, Chad, Delaney, and Jewel. The minister sat behind his austere mahogany desk.

  Detective Travis waited until everyone was seated. “First of all, thank you for taking time out of your schedules to meet. As you know, we are here to get some background information about Mavis Beasom.”

  Reverend Eades folded his hands on his desktop and leaned forward. His forehead wrinkled over his steely gray eyes. “It is always a great concern of mine when a parishioner is brought to my attention. Although Miss Beasom was not an official member here, I will assure you she still enjoys the privilege of confidentiality in regards to anything she has told me in confidence.”

  Detective Travis’ face darkened. “So did she actually tell you anything in confidence?”

  “Well …” The wrinkles on the reverend’s face relaxed. “As a matter of fact, no.”

  Delaney caught Chad’s attention and rolled her eyes. The meeting was looking to be an unproductive one.

  The officer continued, appealing to the cleric's higher self. “To be honest with you, Reverend Eades, I am concerned about Miss Beasom as well. There is no indication of whether she is dead or alive. She could be in need of help.” Detective Travis looked intently at the minister. “Certainly, you would want to be of assistance.”

  The thin clergyman shifted in his hard wooden chair. “Of course.”

  Detective Travis continued. “I believe there is no harm in sharing any general impressions you might have about Miss Beasom – or anything that is common knowledge.”

  Jewel poked her chin in the direction of her minister as if she was prodding him to talk.

  Reverend Eades glanced at a stark metal crucifix that hung quite alone on the opposite wall. He began by divulging a stingy amount of information. “I have been the minister here at Sierra View Community Church for twenty-three years.”

  “When did you first meet Miss Beasom?” Detective Travis nudged.

  “Oh, that was about three or four years ago. Of course, she had bought that piece of property up on Mineral King Road a good decade prior to that. Interestingly enough, I can’t recall anyone saying they had ever seen her or met her. I guess she was a recluse and almost never left her home.”

  “You’re the third person who’s told me that,” Delaney interrupted. Then she clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  Detective Travis nodded at Delaney. “Go ahead, Mrs. Fox.”

  “Within my first few hours of coming to Three Rivers, two business people told me Miss Beasom was a hermit. But they also mentioned the steady stream of aspiring writers coming through town to attend her writers’ retreat.” Delaney studied the officer’s intense black eyes. “Then over the past few years, I guess things changed. The merchants told me students rarely passed through town on their way to The Tilted Plume. And, about that time, Mavis started coming into Three Rivers.”

  Detective Travis grumbled. “That could all be a coincidence. Miss Beasom could have just gotten tired of being alone.”

  “She has always seemed to be rather gregarious here at church,” Jewel countered, “especially when food was involved. And as of late, she has been very generous about donating clothing to our women’s charity.”

  “Then why,” Detective Travis asked, “did you tell Mrs. Fox you believed she would be good for Miss Beasom?”

  Jewel blushed. “Um, Mavis is just sort of quirky.” She glanced at her minister’s face, visibly expecting his disapproval. “Delaney seemed so wholesome.”

  Delaney blushed. “Wholesome? Really?”

  Jewel winked at Delaney. “Yes, dear. Even with that lovely lavender hair of yours.”

  Detective Travis silenced the girl talk curtly voice as he addressed Reverend Eades. “You stated that Miss Beasom was not an official member here. Why not?”

  The minister hedged for a moment. “Mavis never applied.”

  “Forgive me if I have misunderstood the general function of the clergy, Reverend. Aren’t you in the business of proselytizing?”

  “Miss M-M-Mavis wasn’t ready to become a member.”

  “And, why not?” Detective Travis needled.

  Reverend Eades lifted his eyes to the bare crucifix on the wall.

  “Would it have anything to do with her little black cape?” the investigator suggested.

  The small room was stuffy with silence. The reverend’s skinny legs shifted under his desk. Jewel’s chin poked forward. Chad smirked.

  At great length, Reverend Eades spoke. “We all come to the Lord in our own time. We did not reject Miss Beasom for her ways, but I can say that I’ve have done a lot of praying.”

  Detective Travis studied the clergyman’s gaunt face “Thank you for your honesty, Reverend. Is there anything else you would like to add?”

  The minister pursed his lips. “I can tell you something you will find out sooner or later without me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Mavis is married to a man who was incarcerated for armed robbery.”

  A volley of audible gasps echoed against the walls like the flapping of frightened birds.

  “She never brought him to church.” Reverend Eades raised his eyebrows. “She did, however, do plenty of bragging about how she’d snagged a younger man. A much younger man, from what I have been told. Apparently, a mutual friend happened to mention that he was incarcerated. Mavis began exchanging letters with the man while he was in Avenal State Prison. Then they married shortly before he was released.”

  “That’s a new one to me,” Detective Travis growled. “Are you sure she wasn’t just fabricating a big story? Writers can have pretty
wild imaginations.”

  Jewel shook her gray curls. “Oh no, I saw the two of them at the hardware store together. He’s was a good-looking fellow – probably twenty-five years her junior.”

  “Did she mention his name?”

  “Just Conin.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Conin?” Delaney gasped. “Are you sure?”

  “Who would forget a name like that?” Jewel giggled behind her manicured hand.

  Reverend Eades blanched as he listened to his visitors speak of unholy matters.

  “Wasn’t Conin the High Priest of the coven?” Detective Travis asked Delaney.

  “Yes, and he was the one who was careless and started the fire,” Delaney answered. “But nothing was ever mentioned about Mavis and Conin being married. And he certainly wasn't living in the cabin while I was there."

  Detective Travis cleared his throat. “I believe Conin was living in all sorts of places. As it turns out, he really was a part-time caretaker for two properties up the road.”

  “Well, at least he told the truth about something,” Chad scoffed.

  "The sheriff's department has been doing a lot of poking around on that property," the investigator explained. "We found an isolated shed behind a grove of trees that you might not have noticed, Delaney. It’s a fully functional apartment with a kitchen, bath, and telephone. It even has its own easement road along the adjacent property. It leads right to Mineral King Road.”

  Delaney threw up her clenched fists. “So, Conin really didn’t just happen along the day I was trying to escape by walking down Mineral King Road! Mavis sent him to catch me.”

  Detective Travis took a deep breath, then gradually allowed the pressure in his puffed cheeks to escape. “I’m afraid you’re correct, Mrs. Fox. For some reason, they really wanted you to be at that coven meeting. I don’t know if it was because you are with child …”

  An involuntary cry escaped from Jewel’s pink lips.

  “They were going to harm my baby?”

  “I can’t say for sure right now,” said Detective Travis. “Just be careful until we nab these two.”

  Reverend Eades lowered his eyes and bowed his head forward in a prayerful pose. The volume in the room dropped accordingly. His humble voice offered up a heartfelt prayer:

  “Dear Lord, bless this dear woman and her precious child. Keep them safe in your hands, now and in the days to come. May this child be born healthy. May his soul be a light that shines for the good of all. Amen.

  The remaining days of March and the entire month of April passed as slowly as a caterpillar crawling up a tomato vine. Detective Travis never called. And with no answers in sight, Delaney’s attempts to steady her emotions floundered. When she tried to contact the evasive officer, he was either not in his office or full of vague placations. If he really did know any dirt about Mavis and Conin, he certainly wasn’t talking.

  The month of May was already promising to be a scorcher.

  Rather than wallowing in her clutter of unanswered questions, Delaney chose to focus her attention on the imminent birth of her son. She set up a card table in what was to be little Samuel’s nursery. Instead of playing cards, she used it to assemble various decorations for the blue and green room. The focus of the nursery would be Samuel's dinosaur quilt. She had chosen to hang it on a wall as a decoration rather than place it in his crib.

  On one particular day in May, she busied herself with putting a mobile together. The delightful display of three-dimensional dinosaurs would hang over the infant’s crib. The instructions on the box made it look easy, but Delaney was finding the claim to be far from the truth. She frowned every few minutes, but it was not because she was frustrated. “What’s that smell?” she asked, wishing her hard-working husband was there to hear her. “If I didn’t know better, I would think it was smoke.”

  Being heavy with child, Delaney had to exert a fair amount of energy to get into a standing position. “It does smell like smoke.” She knew she had nothing cooking in the kitchen, but hurried to check anyway. Then she listened closely for the unmistakable bellow of a fire engine, but all was quiet. She glanced through the glass slider, which opened out to the patio and backyard. The view revealed nothing more than a well-ordered lawn and rock garden. “I must be having flashbacks from the wildfire at The Tilted Plume,” she mumbled to her empty house.

  Still unnerved, she telephoned her husband at work. “Chad, I smell smoke, but I can’t find out where it is coming from.”

  “Go outside and check the roof. It might be the air conditioner.”

  “Okay.” She set the receiver on the kitchen counter and hurried out the back slider. From the middle of the backyard, she could see the roof. No smoke.

  “Delaney, are you still there? Are you there?”

  Delaney picked up the receiver. “Yes.”

  “Any problems on the roof?”

  “From the backyard, everything looks fine. I can still smell smoke.”

  “Why don’t you check out front?”

  “Okay.” Delaney set the receiver down again and waddled to the front door. She took a look out the peephole first, then turned around and went back to the kitchen. “Chad, I can’t go out the front door.”

  “Why not?”

  “That smoky smell is really strong around the front entrance.”

  “What is it?”

  “I looked out the peep hole first. It’s a good thing I did. There’s a creeper sitting about eight feet away from the front door smoking a cigarette.”

  “I’m calling the police.”

  “Please hurry!”

  Delaney tried to control her breathing. She returned to the front door and viewed the skinny young man through the peephole. He looked like a curled up spider leaning against the wall in the sheltered front entry. His dark hair was long and greasy. The black knit shirt and pants he wore seemed much too small. His white ankles grinned above his black sneakers.

  When the bony man stood up and stepped toward the door, Delaney’s heart lurched. He rang the doorbell several times. “Hellooo … hellooo … I have a package for you from the sheriff’s department.”

  Delaney did not move nor speak.

  “Hellooo … hellooo … package from the sheriff’s department. It’s your belongings from the fire.”

  Delaney backed away from the door with the stealth and cunning of a panther. She prayed she wouldn’t trip over her own feet.

  “Helloooooo … helloooooo … Don’t you want your things?”

  Not really, Delaney thought. Not if I have to open my door to you.

  Delaney slipped into the master bedroom and grabbed the phone from its place on Chad’s nightstand. She freed its long black cord from behind the small set of drawers. As she walked toward the bedroom closet, she snagged a blanket on the way.

  The tone of the incessant doorbell still pulsed in her ears. “Just go away!” she muttered under her breath. Shaking, she sank down onto the carpeted floor of the bedroom closet and pulled the closet door shut. In a feeble attempt to muffle her own voice, she threw a blanket over her head. Her hands trembled as she dialed Detective Travis’s number.

  As Delaney waited for someone in the sheriff’s department to pick up the phone, she scolded herself. Her sense of logic was laughable. If the greasy spider on her front porch happened to break into her house before the authorities got there, he would have no problem finding her. The phone cord lying across the carpet was as good as an arrow pointing to her location in the closet.

  “Detective Travis speaking.”

  “Thank God, it’s you —”

  “Hello?”

  “Delaney Fox here. Did you send a package over to my house?”

  “No, why?”

  “There’s some guy in tattered clothing trying to get me to open my front door for a package. He claims he’s from the sheriff’s department — something about my belongings from the cabin. He looks like a doper.”

  “Don’t open that door!”
/>
  “I didn’t.”

  “I’m sending an officer to your house.”

  “Chad might have already put in a call to 9-1-1.”

  “He’s there with you?”

  “No, I called him at work.”

  “I am putting in my own call,” the detective barked. “Just to make sure.”

  The sickening sound of a key plunging into the lock on the front door made Delaney’s blood run cold.

  “Oh my God, he’s got a key! He’s trying to get in!”

  “I thought you got your locks changed right after your purse was stolen.”

  “I did have them changed.” Delaney’s heart seized as she heard the creeper struggle with the latch. “He’s probably trying to force our old key into the new lock.”

  “It could be any key,” Detective Travis mumbled. “Does he know you’re there?”

  “I’m not sure. I didn’t answer the door.”

  “What’s happening now?”

  “Things have gotten quiet. Maybe he’s gone.”

  “Two officers have been dispatched. They should be there soon.”

  “Hurry! Hurry!”

  “What’s happening?”

  “I just heard him jump the side gate … it sounds like he just landed on our garden cart and knocked it over …”

  “Is your back door locked?”

  Delaney gasped. “He’s trying to get in through the patio door …”

  “Is it locked?”

  “Yes, but I forgot to put the wooden dowel back on the bottom track when I came in from the yard. A strong person can lift the door right out of its track …”

  “Mrs. Fox! Mrs. Fox!” Detective Travis thundered. “You’ve got to stay with me. Now, listen carefully. There’s an officer at your front door right now, Mrs. Fox. Go let Deputy Preston in.”

  Delaney struggled from beneath her blanket, opened the closet, and rushed to the front door. Her clammy hands fumbled with the dead bolt.

  “Where’s the suspect?” Preston hissed. Her athletic stature was imposing.