Tattered Legacy (A Nora Abbott Mystery)

by Shannon Baker

  Lisa’s cabin was not one of the tonier houses in Castle Valley, but Nora had loved it from the moment she saw it ten years ago. Made of native logs, the front porch ran the length of the cabin, raised from the front yard by three steps. The railing around the porch made it look like a set piece in a spaghetti western.

  Lisa had given her heart to the old place, renovating it room by room. She still needed to do some work on the foundation and replace some windows, but she’d succeeded in creating a perfect home for her and Rachel.

  Lisa had placed four Adirondack chairs on the porch. Before Rachel and her artistic talent, an ordinary forest green paint covered the chairs. Now they bore bright images of nature scenes and animals, sort of like useful totem poles.

  Darrell’s kind eyes touched her. “Are you going to be okay?”

  No. “Yes.”

  “If you’re sure, I’ll head back to town. I have to make some arrangements for a community meeting in Moab on Saturday afternoon. If you’re in town, why don’t you stop by?”

  Life continues. “Of course. Thank you so much for bringing me out here.”

  Darrell’s smile warmed her like a cozy fire. “I’m glad we met. I’m looking forward to working with you.” He placed a hand briefly on her arm.

  She watched him climb back into the 4Runner and reverse down the rutted driveway.

  A pair of hiking boots with dried mud caked on their soles sat next to the door. Nora caught her breath at the sight. She knew they were Lisa’s by the size. For a short woman, Lisa had unusually big feet. They’d been the subject of many jokes over the years. Nora stood on the grass, unable to move.

  The front screen door squeaked open. Charlie appeared. “Nora?”

  She forced her eyes away from the boots. “Yep. Coming.”

  Charlie stepped onto the porch and waited for Nora to climb the stairs with the box. She nodded toward the door. “Is everything okay?”

  Charlie rubbed his grizzled chin. He spoke in a falsetto. “There’s not a stitch of food in the house. And it’s inconceivable the neighbors haven’t brought casseroles and cookies. And not even any coffee.”

  His Abigail imitation made her laugh.

  “And,” he continued in the same voice, “there’s only one roll of toilet paper.”

  “Sounds like Abigail will get it set straight. It’s her superpower.”

  Charlie nodded. “The only good thing is that everyone will have to up and leave soon and let poor Rachel have some peace.”

  Nora stared into the darkness on the other side of the screen and heard a murmur of voices. “Maybe she doesn’t want peace. It’s tough to be alone.”

  Charlie followed her gaze.

  The weight of Lisa’s box pressed into Nora. Maybe asking for Lisa’s film would actually be good for Rachel—help take her mind off her grief.

  That was a stupid thought. Rachel didn’t want to think about the film.

  “I’m being sent back to town with this.” He held a long list written in Abigail’s perfect penmanship.

  Maybe Nora should help Charlie with his mission.

  “Nora,” Abigail called from inside the house. “I need you.”

  No escaping now. Nora raised her eyebrows to Charlie. “I’ve been summoned.”

  “We live to serve,” he said. For Charlie, that was true. The moment he’d seen Abigail when she stood in the parking lot of Nora’s ski resort in Flagstaff, he’d handed over his heart.

  She watched Charlie take the steps and hurry to the Buick on legs kept spry by his daily forest ramblings. He climbed into the car, looking as out of place as a can of Pabst Blue Ribbon at a champagne brunch.

  Nora scanned the yard and spotted Abbey investigating the pines on the other side of the driveway.

  Nora missed Lisa. The girl she’d stayed up all night with, watching old movies and talking about how they’d change the world. Lisa always felt comfortable in her own skin. She knew herself and felt confident about her place in life. Lisa might not have told her parents she was a lesbian until her sophomore year at CU, but she’d never hidden it from them. It hurt Lisa that her parents couldn’t accept her, but she understood, even at that young age, everyone lives their own life.

  It angered Nora that Lisa’s parents had turned away. Lisa didn’t have time for anger. She had things to do. Nora admired Lisa’s confidence.

  Spring break their sophomore year Lisa had planned a backpack trip in Canyonlands. It would be her first time visiting southern Utah and she’d been talking about it for a month.

  Nora sat on Lisa’s bed in the tiny dorm room while Lisa laid out her supplies and gear on the other bed. “Come with me, Nor. We’ll have a blast.”

  Nora’s feet itched to be laced into her hiking boots. “I can’t. My mother and Berle have an Easter brunch planned, and Abigail commanded I attend.”

  Lisa put her hands on her ample hips. “That’s Abigail’s deal. What would you rather do?”

  Nora could almost feel the chill of dawn and the first burst of sun over the horizon. “You know I’d rather go backpacking.”

  Lisa flipped her dark waves over her shoulder. “Then get your pack. We leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Abigail would have a fit. I’d pay for this for the rest of my life.”

  Lisa clicked her headlamp on to check the battery. “Only if you allow it.”

  Nora leaned forward, feeling the inkling of possibility. She sat back. “You don’t know Abigail the Terrible.”

  Lisa shook the canister of fuel for the camp stove. “It’s your life, chica. Abigail has her own.”

  Nora stood, jumpy at the thought of outright rebellion. “Yeah. But I should—”

  Lisa spun around. “Should? Do you want to live your life for everyone else? Who are you?” It wasn’t rhetorical. Lisa stared her down, waiting for an answer.

  Nora’s face burned. If she backed down now, she’d look like a weenie. She could defy Abigail and go backpacking. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  Lisa didn’t budge, didn’t smile. “Nope. You’re not invited anymore.”

  “What?”

  Lisa shook her head. She picked up a packet of dehydrated beef stew. “You’re only going because I bullied you into it.”

  Tongues of frustration licked at Nora. “I love backpacking.”

  “So why does it take me badgering you to go?”

  “I’m going now. That’s good enough.”

  Lisa turned back to her gear. “Of course you can come with me. I’m super excited to have you, and we’re going to love it. But you really ought to figure yourself out, chica.”

  The clatter of dishes sounded from inside the cabin, and Abigail’s voice wafted through the open screen. “Why don’t you lie down, dear? You’ve been through so much today.” From the volume and tone, Abigail was sending a message to people that it was time for them to leave.

  Rachel mumbled something.

  Nora addressed the boots silently. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am.”

  Abigail opened the screen door and stepped out on the deck. “Come in here. Rachel needs you.”

  Rachel probably had tons of friends she’d rather talk to than Nora, a woman she barely knew and had never really connected with. Still, if Abigail thought Nora could help Rachel, she ought to give it her best shot. Maybe she’d be able to gently ask about the film.

  Abigail met her on the porch. She lowered her voice in conspiracy. “Try to get rid of those people. Rachel needs to rest.”

  “Who are they?”

  Abigail threw a disgusted glance at the screen and the low voices inside. “Environmental activists, from what I can tell. They’re discussing their next meeting and protest with no consideration of Rachel.”

  “Where are you going?” Nora asked.

  Abigail descended a step. “I
can’t send Charles to the store on his own. He gets the store brand or organic or local or who knows how he decides. It’s rarely on quality and taste.”

  “So I’m supposed to clear the house and wait for you to get back?”

  Abigail hurried down the remaining three stairs. “That and comfort Rachel.”

  Nora balanced the box against her belly, opened the screen door, and stepped inside.

  Nora hadn’t been to the cabin since Lisa and Rachel married. Significant differences from when she’d been here last jarred Nora, but once she thought about it, she realized the changes were normal. As Lisa and Rachel twined their lives together, their house would morph from simply being Lisa’s to theirs. And now, just Rachel’s.

  The screen door opened into a sunny great room. Hardwood floors stretched out, bright Navajo rugs spread at odd angles. Heavy leather furniture added to the lodge theme. Frameless canvases of desert flowers, much like Georgia O’Keeffe paintings, hung on the walls. As was evident with the porch chairs, Rachel’s painting style here was unmistakable.

  The kitchen sat off to the left, a breakfast bar separating it from the great room. French doors framed an office at the far end of the room. Lisa’s massive pine desk, reclaimed from an old government office and refinished by Lisa’s determined hand, sat littered with papers and file folders. Her laptop rested amid the debris, the top up as if Lisa had momentarily walked away.

  Stairs led off the left of the doorway, heading up to the three bedrooms on the second floor. Even though Lisa had bought a four bedroom, she’d ripped out a wall, installed another bathroom, added a balcony, and created a romantic master bedroom with an incredible view of Castle Rock as a wedding gift for Rachel.

  Rachel stood in the kitchen, hands on the breakfast bar, staring across the great room at a window between two of the giant flower paintings. Her eyes didn’t seem to focus on the mountains in the distance.

  Two thirty-something women flanked her. They seemed focused on their conversation with the two men standing in front of the mantel of the fireplace. A gray-haired woman and man sat on the leather couch.

  A lively discussion filled the room. “I think we need posters showing tar sands damage and we don’t make a sound.”

  “Yes! Like those pro-life posters of half-aborted babies. Demonstrate the evil. A picture is worth a thousand words.”

  “That’s stupid. We should do like PETA. Remember when they splashed blood on women wearing fur?”

  “It was paint. And that won’t work.”

  The arguments flew around the room with everyone stepping on each other’s sentences.

  Nora crossed the room, the floor creaking as she passed Rachel’s line of sight. “I’m going to set this in Lisa’s office.”

  Rachel’s eyes slowly focused on Nora, and she gave a short nod.

  “Why bother with a protest around here, anyway? These people have their minds made up.”

  “Besides, they aren’t the people voting.”

  “Heath’s got a point. We should go to D.C. and picket on the Capitol steps.”

  “Not everyone is a trust funder and can fly all over the place.”

  Nora entered the office. To the right, another set of French doors opened out onto a low redwood deck without rails. Abbey lay on the warm wood, dozing in the sun. He acted as though he’d been here dozens of times and knew his way around, which, of course, he had—just not in the last couple of years.

  The deck was one of the first things Lisa had refinished after buying the cabin over ten years ago. The plumbing hadn’t been up to snuff, and smelly carpet had covered the floors. The windows were tiny and leaked with the slightest breeze, but Lisa installed the French doors and built the deck because she needed contact with the land and sky. She loved the view of the La Sal Mountains and, most days, wasn’t content to see them from behind the doors.

  Her desk faced the doors, which she kept open in all but the worst weather. She loved watching the jagged peaks, purple in the morning, turn green and brown and black as the sun played against them. She said their grandeur reminded her to be humble.

  Like the sculptor who finds the image hidden in stone, Lisa had discovered the beauty of the cabin. But Nora had to admit Rachel’s art and decorating touches made the home bright and comfortable. More than once Lisa had raved about how Rachel had improved her life: “I had no idea how much I needed a wife!”

  A wood-burning stove nestled in the corner opposite the deck. An antique pine cabinet sat along the wall, its surface scattered with piles of papers. Nora pushed several file folders out of the way and set the box on the desk. Lisa couldn’t look at the view anymore, but somehow, placing her ashes there made Nora feel better.

  Voices rose, reminding Nora of Abigail’s orders. She spun around and returned to the living room. Rachel no longer leaned on the counter between the two women. Nora glanced around the room and out the screen door. Rachel sat on one of the Adirondack chairs, leaning forward, her face to the mountains.

  Nora held her hand up. “Thanks for being here for Rachel. I know she appreciates your concern. But it’s been a long day. Please call and visit again.”

  A couple of the people looked confused. Some seemed to take Nora’s words at face value and got ready to leave. At least one woman scanned the room for Rachel, and when she realized Rachel was no longer with them, looked stricken and ashamed.

  Nora ushered them out the front door. The storm clouds blotted out the sun and a few drops plopped onto the porch roof. While they said their goodbyes and offered to help Rachel in any way, lingering on the porch, Nora returned to the office.

  She stood in the center of the room, feet planted on a blood-red Navajo rug. Her eyes scanned the surface of the desk and the shelves, traveling to the cupboard doors and across to a pine filing cabinet. Where would Lisa keep copies of the film?

  Soft raindrops pattered on the deck. Nora hesitated. Lisa still lingered in this house, in the office, and Lisa hated anyone messing with her stuff.

  Lisa and Nora had shared an apartment the last two years of undergrad in Boulder. It drove Nora crazy the way Lisa cluttered the tiny space with her books and papers, socks, sweaters, shoes—everything. Nora would gather all of Lisa’s things from the common space and deposit them in Lisa’s bedroom. That led to a major confrontation and a compromise. Nora wouldn’t mess with Lisa’s stuff if Lisa would try not to clutter the living room.

  “This office is like you, Lisa—messy, beautiful, and bright.” Nora wrapped her arms around herself.

  Outside, Abbey stood and shook. The rain didn’t appear too serious so Nora left him to enjoy it.

  She ran her fingertips along the edge of the desk while her eyes took in the chaos of papers on top. Lisa worked in a whirlwind, often losing items or forgetting appointments. Rachel’s hand kept order in the rest of the house, but this office belonged to Lisa.

  Nora slipped around to the desk chair and sat in front of the opened laptop. “Where did you put the film?” she spoke, even if Lisa couldn’t hear.

  Abbey stretched, circled around twice, and flopped down again.

  Without the film, Nora’s best option would be to collect photos and write narration for Darrell. That seemed like a poor solution. Even with the amazing landscapes, a slideshow seemed stagnant. To stir the committee’s passion, they needed movement, light, breathtaking sights, and ugly images to demonstrate the threat.

  Nora slid her finger on the laptop’s touchpad and waited for it to wake up. She surveyed the pinion and juniper outside. The sun broke out, highlighting individual raindrops. The tangy smell of sage drifted through an open window.

  The sound of car engines indicated the activists must be on their way.

  Nora glanced through the file icons on the computer’s desktop. Nothing indicated a film project. She found the directory and looked through that, too. She opened a few file
s that might have contained some portion of the project. Nothing. No notes for narrative, no digital pictures, and certainly no film.

  Abbey no longer sprawled on the deck. Nora pulled herself from behind the desk and crossed the room, peering out the doors in search of him.

  She located him by the movement of ginger hair against the scrub and sand. He trotted toward the front of the house. Maybe Charlie and Abigail had returned. If so, they hadn’t been gone long.

  Nora popped open the doors. She stepped out on the deck polka-dotted by drying raindrops. It took her a moment to recognize what she heard.

  Rachel’s voice sounded irritated. A man responded, matching her heat. Nora jumped to the edge of the deck, ready to dash to the front of the cabin if necessary.

  The sight of Lee’s white pickup stopped her. She inched a ways before she spotted Rachel and Lee standing in front of the hood of the pickup. Lee held Rachel’s hand and only a couple of feet separated them. Lee’s head bent and Rachel’s raised face was only inches from his. Nora couldn’t see their expressions, only their profiles. Their anger dropped away and they stood, motionless. They communicated without words. These were not the movements of strangers.

  Nora backed up and retreated to Lisa’s office. She clicked the door closed and stood in front of it, staring into nothing, trying to understand what she’d seen. Her eyes slowly focused on the Navajo rug. She lifted her gaze to the bookshelves next to the wood stove.

  She already suspected Lisa’s death might not have been an accident. Maybe Lee killed Lisa so he and Rachel could be together, Nora thought wildly. Right. That made sense because people always killed someone instead of just asking for a divorce. Sheesh, Nora. Jump to conclusions much?

  Her eyes came to rest on the jumble of loose pages and books, pamphlets, and magazines scattered on the bottom shelf. Wait. What was that? There, thrust between stacks of papers, she caught sight of a DVD case, the slim black edges barely visible.

  Nora rushed across the room and squatted down. She snatched the case, excited to see the DVD nestled inside. Lisa’s bold handwriting dated it May 28. No year. But if it was this year, this DVD was only three weeks old. If it was a backup, it would only be missing images from a couple of shoots.