Town in a Wild Moose Chase

by B. B. Haywood

  She left on her undershirt, flannel shirt, and jeans, and in her stocking feet she padded forward, following the warming air and tempting smells of cookies and burning wood. After a half dozen paces she walked into the front sitting room, which overlooked the sea.

  It was a breathtaking panorama. For a few moments Candy stood mesmerized. She’d always felt the lure of the sea, and standing in the room looking out, even on this overcast day, she was struck by the beauty and majesty of the ocean. The sisters’ cottage had a rustic, organic charm about it, due in part to the bare wooden floors that gleamed in the firelight and the comfortable, overstuffed furniture arrayed around the hearth, which she noticed was a single, eight-foot-long piece of raw granite, uneven across its surface. A stack of logs for the fire sat at one end of the hearth, and a basket of kindling and a pile of newspapers occupied the other side.

  “Sit here,” one of sisters said, holding out her hand for Candy to shake. “I’m Annabel, the one you talked to on the phone. Welcome to our home. Sit and I’ll pour you some tea.” Her hair was darker and frizzier than her sister’s, but she had the same slim face and olive eyes, though hers were a shade darker, flecked with brown.

  The third sister sat across from Candy, on the other side of a thick multicolored rug that looked woven by hand. She gave Candy a hesitant wave and, in a soft, reserved voice, said, “Hello. I’m Elizabeth.” She wore a thick, sage green knitted shawl over an ankle-length denim skirt that buttoned down the front. She had the same facial features as her sisters, though she was paler than they were, as if she rarely ventured outside, and looked like the youngest of the three. But her most striking feature was her long graying hair, parted in the middle and hanging nearly to her waist. It contrasted oddly with her supple skin, expressive lips, and deep, inquisitive brown eyes.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Candy said as she settled herself and accepted a warm cup of mint tea from Annabel. Isabel arrived a moment later from the kitchen with a plate of freshly baked oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips. “The chocolate mixes wonderfully with the mint tea,” she said as she placed the plate on a table within easy reach of Candy. “Help yourself.”

  Candy hesitated. She’d gained a few pounds over the winter, and her tight-fitting jeans fit just a little too tightly these days. She’d been trying to cut back on sweets.

  Still, these were freshly baked oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, and they smelled heavenly.

  She limited herself to two.

  Well, perhaps three.

  It’s a good thing Maggie isn’t here, she thought with an inward smile. She’d eat the whole plate.

  As Candy and the Foxwell sisters munched on the cookies and sipped mint tea, they chatted about the house and the view.

  “It was our mother’s place, and our grandmother’s before that,” Annabel told her. “It’s always handed down to the women in the family. I guess you could say it’s a tradition. Some of this furniture and many of the decorations date back to the fifties or forties, or even earlier. There are several pieces around here from the late eighteen hundreds—that table over there, for instance.”

  Candy surveyed the living room. It looked like a museum of antiques. “It’s all very lovely,” she said, “and the view is breathtaking.”

  “It’s actually the third house on this site,” Isabel said primly.

  “A log cabin was built here sometime in the late eighteen hundreds,” Annabel continued, “but it was closer to the sea, and it washed away in a storm. A second cabin was built shortly after that, more tightly anchored to the ground and farther back on the property, but it burned down in the 1920s. This one was built shortly after that. Our grandmother inherited the place from a great-aunt named Clementine, on her mother’s side.”

  “Grandmother’s name was Isabel, and she was rumored to be a witch, although in truth she was simply an herbalist and a naturalist,” Isabel said frankly. She had settled herself into an ornate rocking chair to one side of the fireplace. “I was named after her, of course. She had two sisters—Annabel and Elizabeth—though Grandmother was the only one of them to marry. After her husband, Fenton, our grandfather, died during the war—though of natural causes; he was quite a bit older than she—she and her sisters lived here together.”

  “Grandmother was a wonderful artist and writer,” the third sister, Elizabeth, said quietly, almost out of nowhere. She raised a long, narrow finger and pointed past Candy. “We have several of her sketchbooks in the library. She worked in pencil, charcoal, and watercolors.”

  “Oh, I’d love to see some of her work,” Candy said, twisting around to glance at the floor-to-ceiling shelves, crammed full with books of all sizes and ages, along the wall be-hind her.

  “And we promise we will show you,” Annabel said as the smile dropped from her face, “but first we must talk to you about another matter—it’s why we asked you here.”

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Candy folded her hands in her lap and looked at them expectantly.

  “We have something very important we need to tell you,” Isabel said, clutching the arms of the rocking chair.

  “We don’t want to scare you,” Annabel added, “but we thought you should know.”

  “Know what?” Candy could feel her heart starting to beat faster.

  “It’s about our sister,” Isabel said, indicating Elizabeth. “She’s had a premonition.”

  “A premonition? You mean… a vision?”

  “Perhaps you’ve heard what people say about us,” Annabel said, giving Candy a knowing look.

  It took Candy a moment to figure out what she meant. “Oh, you mean about being psychic? I thought that was just a village rumor.”

  “Some rumors are based in truth,” Isabel said cryptically.

  “I saw something.” It was Elizabeth’s voice again, with an underlying strength despite the soft tone. “A premonition, a vision—call it what you want, though it wasn’t really as defined as either of those. It was just more of… a feeling.”

  “I see. And what was this feeling about?” Candy asked, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “I don’t know exactly.”

  “These things are often difficult to interpret,” Isabel said helpfully.

  “Would you like more tea?” Annabel asked, reaching for the pot.

  “No I’m… I’m fine, thank you.” Candy looked back over at Elizabeth. “Was it about me? Your premonition? Is that why you asked me here?”

  “Not directly… but yes, I feel in some way you are connected to everything,” Elizabeth answered.

  Candy gulped, and suddenly her mouth was very dry. “Am I in danger?”

  “We don’t know,” Annabel said truthfully.

  “There have been no specific indications,” Isabel clarified.

  Candy focused on Elizabeth. “Can you tell me exactly what you… felt?”

  “It was… a darkness,” Elizabeth said in a voice barely above a whisper.

  A sudden gust of wind from out over the sea pushed at the house just then, rattling the windows and whistling under the eaves and around the chimney. The fire fluttered.

  Candy felt a chill go through her, though possibly it was due to a sudden draft brushing past her. She leaned forward and picked up her cup of tea. “I think I changed my mind. Could I have a refill, please?”

  Annabel smiled. “Of course, dear. I think we all could use another cup. If you would like something stronger, we have some pretty good whiskey in the cupboard.”

  Candy couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “Would you prefer beer or wine?” Isabel asked.

  “We make our own blueberry wine,” Annabel added. “It’s quite good. We’ve entered it in a few contests.”

  “Came in second at the Fryeburg Fair,” Isabel announced proudly. “Sure you don’t want a glass?”

  Candy politely declined. She wanted to hear more about this darkness.

  So they told her.

 
; “As I said,” Annabel began, “some people thought Isabel—our grandmother Isabel—was a witch. But of course she wasn’t.” She paused. “Not really.” Another pause. “As long as you don’t count the premonitions.”

  “She had premonitions too?”

  “It seems to skip a generation,” Isabel told her.

  Candy glanced at Elizabeth, who was watching her coolly.

  “It goes back for generations, as far as we can tell from family accounts,” Annabel explained. “Where it comes from, we don’t know, but it’s inherited. When we realized as little girls that Elizabeth had her, well, her ability, should we say, we decided we’d have to protect and guide her. Now we’re happy here by ourselves.”

  “But how often do you have these… premonitions?” Candy asked, looking directly at Elizabeth.

  She shrugged, a waifish gesture. “Not so often now. When I was a teenage girl, I had them fairly frequently, once every two or three months—mostly just little things about family members and friends, and occasionally about someone else in the community. But they’re tapering off as I get older. Now I have them only a few times a year.”

  “Have you seen anyone about them?”

  “Who would she see?” Isabel asked, sounding slightly confused.

  Candy shook her head. “I don’t know. A doctor? A psychiatrist?”

  “She’s not crazy, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Isabel said, sounding a little defensive. “It’s just a trait, like the length of an earlobe or a cleft in the chin. Except this one isn’t physical or emotional—it’s something else.”

  “I see.” There was a silence in the room then, and Candy could hear the waves breaking against the rocks outside. “So how am I involved in this premonition?”

  “The darkness is attracted to you,” Elizabeth said.

  “In what way?”

  Another silence. Finally Annabel spoke. “Well, the thing is, it seems to be centered around you… and Ben Clayton.”

  FOURTEEN

  Twenty minutes later she headed back out into the cold, overcast day, which had grown noticeably gloomier while she’d been inside. The air had that sharp chill to it that was an indication of imminent snow, and the day felt rawer. As she pulled out Maggie’s keys and climbed inside the Subaru, she saw a few stray flakes flutter down from the sky, harbingers of what was to come. She knew it would start snowing steadily soon.

  It was perfect weather for the upcoming Sleigh and Sled Parade, which would take place later that afternoon. But it wasn’t ideal for what Candy had in mind next.

  Still, she was determined to go through with her plans. It was time to take matters into her own hands—despite her promise to do otherwise.

  She checked her watch. They were on a tight schedule. They had about an hour and a half before they had to get back to town to cover preparations for the parade.

  It would have to be enough time.

  Ben had called her while she’d been inside, and she’d excused herself briefly from the Foxwell sisters to take his call. The police had turned up nothing in their search for Solomon Hatch. It was as if the old hermit had disappeared into thin air. He hadn’t been seen or heard from in days. His cabin had been unlocked when they’d checked it, with the wood stoves still giving off heat and dishes still wet in the sink, so he hadn’t been gone for long. But there was no sign of him at the camp. They’d followed his tracks into the woods for a mile or so but lost them at a place where the snowpack had been disturbed. It was as if someone had deliberately covered up Solomon’s tracks so no one could follow him—or, at least, that’s what the police surmised, Ben had told her.

  “I noticed the same thing yesterday morning when I followed Solomon’s footprints into the woods,” Candy said softly into the phone. “He must be in danger. We have to find him.”

  Talking quickly in low tones, she briefly explained her unexpected summons to the home of the Foxwell sisters, and her creative solution for escaping the watchful eyes of Officer McCroy. “I have a couple hours before I have to be back in town,” she said to Ben. “Can you meet me at Blueberry Acres?”

  The time had come, she’d decided, to search the woods themselves.

  After she’d hung up, Candy had asked the sisters if they knew anything about Solomon’s disappearance, and if it had anything to do with Elizabeth’s premonition. But they had no more details for her—at least for the moment. “Elizabeth sometimes receives echoes,” Isabel said, “which help us interpret the premonition in the days after.”

  “It’s not an exact science,” Annabel added helpfully, “and it sometimes takes us a while to sort through it all. But if we’re all patient, Elizabeth will eventually reveal everything she has learned, and we will pass it all on to you. There will be more, I’m sure. All in good time.”

  All in good time… but what if Solomon didn’t have any time left?

  Ben was waiting for her when she pulled up in front of the farmhouse. In his casual yet ruggedly charming way, he was leaning back against his vintage 1980s, well-maintained cypress green Special Edition Range Rover, which he’d bought a few years ago from a retired mechanic and car collector up in Old Town. It needed a quart of oil every couple of weeks, and used too much gas, but Ben loved its angled exterior lines and functional yet comfortable interior, complete with leather seats. Plus, he often said, it could get him to the top of Mount Baxter in the middle of a snowstorm and had never failed to deliver him to his favorite fishing and camping spots, even at the height of mud season.

  He’d come dressed for the weather, having switched out his standard navy blue fleece jacket for something a little weightier, and added a knit cap, gloves, and boots. The oxford shirt and conservative tie were gone as well, replaced with a flannel shirt.

  He appraised her outfit as she stepped out of the Jeep, and grinned. “I guess the disguise worked.”

  “It worked. I almost ran into him, but he didn’t recognize me.”

  “Maybe that’s because you look a little like my Uncle Cecil.”

  “Is he the one who keeps pigeons in the attic of his garage?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Well, no wonder people keep giving me strange looks. But it did its job. So far, no Officer Jody.”

  Ben looked back along the driveway toward the main road. “He’s probably still searching for you, though. They think you’re going to lead them to Solomon Hatch so they can question him about this alleged body. It’s only a matter of time before Officer McCroy or Chief Durr shows up here.”

  “Then we should get going.”

  He looked her over again. “You want to change first?”

  Candy shrugged. “I’m fine. These old duds are actually pretty comfortable, and they’re plenty warm.”

  They walked side by side up through the blueberry field as the scattered snowflakes gathered into a light flurry. It wouldn’t stick for a while, but it made the hard-packed surfaces more slippery.

  “What did you find out from the Foxwell sisters?” Ben asked as they walked, their shoulders nudging each other on occasion.

  “Well, it was sort of odd. One of them—Elizabeth—has had a premonition.”

  Ben gave her a wry smile. “Really? That’s pretty rare, from what I’ve heard. The word around town is that the sisters are more eccentric than psychic, though of course that’s still up for debate. There apparently were a few occurrences twenty or thirty years ago that remain unexplained.”

  She gave him a sideways glance. “Have you researched them?”

  He grinned. “When you’re a reporter in a small town like this, you find that after a couple of years you’ve researched just about every possible angle to every possible story line to find something new to write about. I’ve talked to them on a few occasions. They seem friendly enough, and they’re fairly quiet. I’ve checked back through the records—this was a couple of years ago—but all I found were a few old clippings on microfiche from back issues of the newspaper.”

  “An
d what did they say?”

  Ben raised an eyebrow, and his tone turned more serious. “About thirty years ago, there was an outbreak of murders around town. They lasted for a period of eight or ten years, mostly through the eighties. The police couldn’t solve them, so at one point they approached the sisters, to see if they could help figure out what was going on. The sisters would have been only in their early twenties then. Elizabeth was just in her teens.”

  “And did they help?”

  “They did.”

  “And?”

  “From what I could tell, the resolution was murky. There were a few arrests, due in part to the sisters, who helped decipher some of the clues, but the murders kept happening. There was some talk that they were all connected somehow, though I don’t know all the specifics. According to the reports I read, the sisters got actively involved trying to solve the mystery and were making some headway. But that also put them in danger. They were threatened at one point, and it must have scared them a lot. They backed off and went quiet. I’ve tried to find out what really happened, but ran into a roadblock. The police declined to make some of the information public.”

  “Something scared the sisters off the case,” Candy said.

  “Sounds that way, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess that’s why they’ve been reluctant to get involved with these new murders that have occurred in town over the past few years.”

  “That would explain it,” Ben agreed, “but why did they decide to call you now?”

  They walked in silence for a few moments as Candy thought about that, but finally the answer came to her. “Because something’s changed,” she said.

  Ben gave her a curious look. “What makes you say that?”

  Candy shook her head uncertainly. “I really don’t know. Just a hunch, I guess.”

  More silence as Ben studied the trees at the top of the ridge ahead of them. “So did Elizabeth tell you what her premonition was about?”