The Greening: a novel of romantic suspense...with a touch of magic (The Green Man Series Book 1)

by Sharon Brubaker

  Marian laughed, “No,” she said, “This house is too old for air conditioning,” she told them, “but Bran and I had a ‘whole house fan’ installed a long, long time ago. It pulls the air through and pushes it out through the attic. It works quite well.”

  Owen and Sylvia went upstairs to change. It felt good to put on shorts and a midriff shirt. She left her feet bare and padded back downstairs. She had to admit to herself that it was rather nice living at Marian’s.

  “I kept dinner simple,” Marian told Sylvia when she came into view. “We’re having a salad plate with some rolls, fruit and iced tea.”

  “Lovely,” Sylvia told her. “What can I do to help?”

  “Fill up glasses with the tea and run and fetch some mint sprigs,” Marian said.

  Sylvia ran out to the garden where mint was growing with wild abandon. Marian kept it in check by planting it in a large tub in the garden. She had told Sylvia how invasive it could become when Sylvia questioned the size of the tub that was buried in the garden. Sylvia breathed in the sharp fragrant scent and headed back to the house where the Marian and Owen were at the table. Sylvia placed the mint springs in the glasses and took them to the table. Owen took the salad plates and Marian the fresh strawberries.

  “I think this is the end of the strawberries,” she said, “but blueberries and blackberries are coming into season,” she added brightly.

  “They seem to be particularly sweet this year,” Sylvia commented as she bit into a large one.

  They ate chatting comfortably, Sylvia and Owen relaxing for the first time in a couple of days. Owen joked with her as they cleaned up and snapped the wet towel at her until she ran from the kitchen laughing for Marian to come and save her. Marian came out shaking her head and laughing.

  “You two are as bad as two little kids,” she said. She glanced out the window and her happy expression changed to one of curiosity, then surprise and then horror. Sylvia followed her gaze. Two police cars had pulled up to the house and Detective Rogers and his partner got out and headed toward the house along with two officers.

  Marian headed for the door and waved to the officers. “Come in this way,” she said motioning to them with her arm.

  Sylvia moved instinctively closer to Owen and he did the same. They stood close, without touching. The four officers came into the kitchen without any particular expression on their faces. Owen had twisted the tea towel and was twisting it in his hands with nervousness and Sylvia stood with her hands clenched at her sides. She noticed that Owen had paled a bit as well as Marian.

  The one officer cleared his throat and handed Marian a folded piece of paper. “This is a warrant for Mr. Anderson’s arrest and confiscation of some of his personal items,” he said.

  Sylvia gasped and grabbed onto the counter to hold herself up. It was like a bad dream. She looked up at Owen. His eyes were hollow and she could see the fear in his eyes. The words Sylvia had heard so many times on television throughout her life were being said, right in front of her.

  “Mr. Anderson,” he said, “you are being charged with the murder of Anna Hanson. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right…”

  The words drifted off in Sylvia’s mind as if she were hearing them through water. She took Owen’s hand and held on as tightly as she could. Finally the officer’s voice came to a stop and through tear blurred eyes she looked up at the police. They wanted to put handcuffs on Owen and she had to let go of his hand. She let go and gave him a hug and he held her for a brief moment in a tight embrace and then he became wooden and unyielding.

  “Will you put your hands behind your back, sir?” the one young officer asked him. Owen did so and they snapped on the handcuffs. Sylvia thought she would remember that sound for the rest of her life. Shakily, she stepped back and bumped into the counter. She wiped at her eyes and reached for a napkin from a basket on the countertop to use as a tissue.

  “I’ll call Jon right away,” Marian told Owen and gave him a hug. “Don’t you worry.”

  “Will you call my Mom and Dad too?” Owen pleaded quietly.

  Marian nodded, “Of course,” she said.

  She turned to the police, “Where are you taking him?” she asked.

  “Down to state police headquarters, Ma’am,” they told her.

  “I’ll contact his attorney right away,” she said.

  They led Owen out of the house and to the police car. He got in as best he could with the handcuffs and was becoming even paler. Sylvia felt as though someone had kicked her in the stomach. The two other policemen were waiting patiently. One cleared his throat.

  “Excuse me, Ma’am,” he said. “Could you show us where Mr. Anderson keeps his personal belongings?”

  “S-s-s-sure,” she stammered, watching the police car back out and go down the road. She finally tore her eyes away from the spot and looked at Marian who nodded. She was holding the warrant as if it were something nasty.

  “Syl,” she said, “Take these gentlemen up to Owen’s room while I call Jon,” she told her.

  Sylvia nodded, “This way,” she said.

  The policemen followed her up the stairs and she took them to Owen’s room. They were very interested in his computer and the one went out to get a large box. They loaded in Owen’s computer, flash drives and papers. Marian came up behind her and put her arm around her.

  “This is awful,” Sylvia whispered not knowing what to say, realizing her words were weak.

  She put her arm around Marian and they both held on tightly to each other and watched the officers do a systematic search for items in Owen’s room. They went through each drawer and looked at every paper.

  Finally Marian said, “I need to call Owen’s parents. I’ll be right back.”

  Sylvia still stood watching, not wanting to watch, but not wanting to leave. She was wondering what was happening to Owen. The officers finished up and carried several boxes down to the squad car. Sylvia followed them down and saw Marian was still on the phone. She put her hand over the mouthpiece and said goodbye to the officers and continued to talk. It was obvious from the second hand conversation that she was hearing that Owen’s parents were in shock and disbelief. She watched the squad car go down the lane and pushed the screen door and went outside. The heat was cooling slightly with the evening coming on and she walked and leaned against the oak tree in the yard, enjoying its cool bark and spreading shade.

  A very slight breeze rustled through the heavy, humid air. Sylvia didn’t pay any attention, but jumped when the Green Man put a hand on her arm.

  “Oh, my God! You scared me!” she said, putting a hand to her chest.

  Her fear turned to anger, “Where have you been?” she demanded. “Do you know what’s happened?”

  “Let’s walk,” the Green Man said, “and you can tell me all about it.”

  Sylvia spilled out everything that had happened since she last saw him on the road to her house. She told him about the stream watch, about finding the body, the mysterious marks on the body, and the problems with the media, the questionings and Owen’s subsequent arrest.

  “I feel more lost than I ever have in my life,” Sylvia admitted to the Green Man.

  “Well,” the Green Man said, “that’s actually good.”

  “How?” she asked, “and if you say one word about finding my ‘path’ I’ll…I’ll,” she stopped and then started to laugh.

  The Green Man laughed too.

  “Then you’ll have a new beginning to work from,” he said. “You are experiencing Veriditas,” he said.

  “What’s that?” she asked. “Didn’t you use that word the last time I saw you?”

  The Green Man nodded. “Veriditas is the ‘greening of the soul,’” he said, “It was a term coined by a medieval nun –Hildegard of Bingen.”

  He changed the subject. “Do you have any ideas about the murder?” he asked.

  “Owen didn’t kill Anna,” she said, “That’s something I feel deep down,” she told him. �
��I think Mr. Headley might be a possible suspect, but I really don’t know of any others. I’m definitely not sure about what happened to the body.” She shuddered. “It was,” she paused, “grisly.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her to him in a fatherly embrace. She smelled his leafy green smell of spring, breathed deeply and closed her eyes. Tears filled her eyes and yet, didn’t come, but his presence was a comfort and his energy surged through her. It was a healing balm to some of the hurt she was currently feeling. She pulled away eventually and gulped hard trying to think of the formless questions that floated through her head. The Green Man was quiet too. He held her for a few minutes and then told her he had to leave but would be nearby if he was needed. Sylvia nodded. He disappeared and she went back to the house. Marian was sitting in the kitchen. She had poured herself a stiff scotch and was sitting and sipping it. She looked pale and exhausted and Sylvia wondered if this was too much for her. After all, Owen was like a grandson to her.

  When Sylvia came in Marian said, “Jon will call as soon as he can,” she told her. “And Owen’s parents – Phil and Anne will come down tomorrow.” Marian sighed heavily. “Let’s go into the study and try to relax,” she told Sylvia.

  Sylvia followed her into the study where Marian turned on an ancient television. They sat on the couch and Sylvia curled herself up and pulled a small blanket over herself. She wasn’t interested in what was on television and closed her eyes. She couldn’t even think straight. She must have dozed off because she jumped when something startled her. Opening her eyes wide, she tried to remember where she was. Marian patted her leg and Sylvia turned to see that she was on the phone. Its ringing must have awakened her. She sat up trying to focus on the conversation Marian was having. It had to be Jon on the other end. Marian talked for a few minutes, asked Jon to send Owen their love and hung up.

  She cradled the phone in her hands before she spoke. “They’ve booked him,” she stated. “He’s been through the fingerprinting process and they’ve interrogated him with Jon present. Apparently they found a miniscule drop of blood in Anna’s office that they feel belongs to Owen.”

  “But that could have been from a paper cut or something!” Sylvia said incredulously. “How can they base a murder charge on that?”

  “Well, apparently Anna had a diary of her, uh…what could you call it…her exploits. Apparently she also wrote about Owen watching her moves with the statistics.” Marian paused, “Oh, I don’t know!” Marian said frustrated. “It seems trumped up, but Jon seems to feel he can get Owen released if they can find some other information. He said that booking Owen might make the real killer slip up somehow. It’s all very confusing.”

  She drained her scotch. “Let’s go to bed,” she told Sylvia. “There isn’t much more we can do at the moment. I’m going to see if I can visit Owen in the morning and take him fresh clothes for the hearing. And I need to get the other room ready for Phil and Anne.”

  “Can I help you get it ready?” Sylvia offered.

  “No!” Marian laughed. “I’m way too tired to do anything else tonight and so are you. Let’s try to get some sleep.”

  Sylvia stumbled up the stairs after her, stripped and crawled into bed. Marian had told her to leave her bedroom door open for the cooling of the whole house fan to work. She lay sleepless now, listening to the fan and the creaks and groans of the old house. She wondered if Owen was getting any sleep and wondered if the jail cell he was in was anything like the things she saw in movies. She tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable. Finally she got up and leaned on the windowsill and looked out at the stars. Insects still hummed and she heard an owl in the distance. It sounded spooky. She crawled back into bed and tried to sleep. She wondered what Owen’s parents were like. She thought of the Green Man and how odd it was to find comfort in something that wasn’t supposed to be real, but was real to her. She doubted her sanity for the millionth time and eventually fell asleep a couple of hours before dawn.

  Chapter 22

  In the life of each of us, I said to myself, there is a place remote

  And islanded, and given to

  Endless regret or secret happiness.

  --Sarah Orne Jewet

  The Country of the Pointed Firs

  Bumps and bangs woke Sylvia. At first she thought Owen was kidding around trying to wake her up and then realized with a jolt where Owen was. She jumped out of bed to go and investigate the sounds. It was Marian in the guest room trying to make the bed and move some furniture as quietly as she could manage.

  “Marian! You should have woken me up so that I could help you move this stuff!” Sylvia said as she assisted Marian, moving a bureau so that she could dust behind it.

  “I know,” Marian panted, out of breath from her exertions. “I wanted to get it done before Phil and Anne arrive and, oh, I don’t know. I thought it would be a good release of my anger over Owen’s situation.”

  “Constructive, at least!” Sylvia teased her, now fully awake. “What time is it?” she asked.

  “It’s close to seven, I think,” Marian said.

  “Ohmigod!” Sylvia exclaimed. “I had better get in the shower and head to work.”

  Sylvia ran to get into the shower and get dressed. It was another sultry summer’s day and she dressed as comfortably and professionally as possible and hurried downstairs to gulp a quick cup of coffee before leaving for work.

  “Call me and let me know how things went,” Sylvia called to Marian.

  She hurried off to work and pulled in just on time. She had rushed so fast she barely had time to think about Owen, but now that she was sitting at her desk, the stress of the past few days seemed to hit her hard—the murder and Owen going off to jail. Her lack of sleep didn’t help matters. She told Mr. Carter that she needed a cup of coffee and asked him if he wanted one too.

  While she was fixing the coffees in the break room, Ed the custodian came in for a cup of coffee too. He had difficulty pouring due to a heavy bandage on his hand.

  “What happened to you Ed?” Sylvia asked seeing the angry red blotches stretching beyond the bandage boundary.

  “Poison ivy, I think,” Ed told her, “Itches like hell,” he said to her with his usual sense of humor.

  “Still? It looks horrible!” Sylvia sympathized. “Have you been to a doctor for steroids or a shot?”

  “Nah,” he said, “I’m just putting on ‘Ivy Stop’ and wrapping it up.”

  “Well, I hope you feel better,” Sylvia said, taking the cups of coffee and balancing a Danish from the vending machine on top.

  He held the door for her so that she could exit easily.

  “Thanks!” she said, flashing him a smile.

  “You’re welcome,” he said, “nice to see manners, not like some of those other bitches,” he said muttering the last part under his breath, but loud enough for Sylvia to catch.

  She ignored the comment and went back to the office to work on the Bay Days celebration and educational grant specifications while she ate. She looked at the clock frequently, wondering if Marian had gone to the jail and what time the hearing was. Her work seemed meaningless so she started thinking about who might have killed Anna, but couldn’t come up with anyone other than Headley. She would have to ask Carol at lunch if she knew of any enemies Anna might have in the company.

  When lunch finally came and she asked her question, Carol hooted with laughter so loudly that people turned their heads.

  “That bitch made enemies everywhere!” she exclaimed. “You could probably poll a hundred of the guys here and they would all agree. She screwed them royally –literally and figuratively. Headly is the only one who put up with her and I think he got his jollies from watching her make men squirm. It’s sick!”

  Sylvia fell silent. There went the only theory she had. She chewed at her salad, not really hungry after the Danish that morning. When she got back to the office she tried to call Marian, but received no answer. She drummed her fingers on her desk and tri
ed to concentrate on work. It was no use. She rushed out as soon as she could to go to her home to check the mail and the doors and grab a couple of new outfits. The media were gone for the moment and she thought of telling Marian that she would come back home in the next day or two. She would have to talk to her about it.

  When she arrived at Marian’s there was a new car in the parking area and she assumed it was Owen’s parents. She walked in and heard voices from the living room.

  “Hello,” she said, stepping into the room.

  “Hi, Syl,” Marian said and she introduced Sylvia to Owen’s parents.

  There was no question that Owen was the product of these two. His father, Phil Anderson, was a near exact replica of Owen. He was a tad bit shorter, she noticed when he stood up to shake her hand, but had the same short, dark curling hair, glasses and a nerdish look about him. He was thinner than Owen and had the lean look of a runner. His mother, Anne was striking. Whereas Phil looked like Mr. Nerd, Anne looked like a leftover from the sixties. She was tall and had long graying black hair just pulled back from her face and wore a gauzy pantsuit of wide legs and a tunic. Her eyes were the amber and green hazel of Owen’s, and she had the vibrant smile he had too. She reminded Sylvia of a flower child and a dancer. Sylvia and Anne looked at each other levelly when they were introduced –assessing one another. Sylvia wondered what Anne was like and if she could be friends with this woman. Anne, on the other hand, was assessing Sylvia’s character and wondering what this girl was like who claimed her son’s affections. Sylvia sat down near them and asked the group how Owen was making out.

  “It’s horrible!” his mother told her. “That jail is an awful place. Owen looks like he hasn’t slept in days!”

  “Well, he most likely hasn’t,” his father commented calmly.

  “I don’t know anything about this sort of thing,” Sylvia started, “but have they set bail?”

  Anne looked tearful and worked hard to control her emotions.

  Phil answered, “He was arraigned and he put in a plea of ‘not guilty’,” he said quietly, “The judge set bail at a million dollars since it was a murder charge.”