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

by Sharon Brubaker

  “What?” Sylvia gasped, “A million dollars?”

  “We’ve put up our homes as collateral, because we need to come up with at least ten percent of the bail,” Marian said. “We have some paperwork to take care of tomorrow, but hopefully Owen can be released on bail and on his own recognizance in the next 24-48 hours. He’ll need to surrender his passport and most likely need to stay in this area, but I suspect that those will be his only restrictions.”

  Sylvia didn’t know what to say. It was a numbing experience.

  They all sat quiet for a few minutes until Marian remembered, “Isn’t tomorrow Anna’s funeral?” she asked.

  Sylvia said quietly. “Yes, the company promised liberal leave for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’m assuming you’re going?” Anne asked.

  Sylvia looked across the room at her, “Yes,” she said, “I thought I should.”

  Anne, Phil and Marian nodded in agreement.

  “We should start thinking about dinner,” Marian said. “I didn’t think of it earlier.”

  “Why don’t we go out,” Anne suggested. “Is there some place rather anonymous or quiet in town on a Tuesday night?” she asked.

  “Actually there is,” Sylvia said, and she reminded Marian of the restaurant on the water that they had been to a couple of weeks ago.

  “Good idea,” Marian said.

  Phil wanted to drive and they all piled into the Anderson’s car. It was strange, Sylvia thought, to get to know Owen’s parents without him around. The restaurant was not crowded, as Sylvia had predicted on a Tuesday evening. A few boaters who had docked outside the restaurant were at the table and at the bar. The waitress put them at a table near the water where they could watch the sun set on the water. You could just barely see the landfall line across the bay and its outline of trees and houses growing darker by the minute as the sun painted the sky. Phil asked what type of wine Sylvia liked and suggested they order a couple of bottles. She agreed. Feeling slightly uncomfortable not knowing Owen’s parents Sylvia studied the menu carefully. Anne asked how the crab bisque was and Sylvia told her it was wonderful. They each ordered a cup with their meals and talked while they waited for their food. Anne asked Sylvia how long she had been working at Thurmont and Sylvia told her story of inheriting Gran’s home finding employment in the area.

  “You’ve had an interesting year then,” Anne said sympathetically shaking her head at Sylvia.

  Sylvia nodded not wanting to speak at that particular moment with her emotions on the rise. Fortunately the waitress brought the wine and the soup. Anne asked her other questions in a nice way similar to how her mother had questioned Owen a few weeks earlier. It had to be a ‘mother’ thing, she thought, trying to find the best person for their baby. It probably wouldn’t have been so bad if she or Owen had had siblings, but since they were only children, both sets of parents seemed to be overprotective. It was certainly a type of verbal gauntlet. Phil was fairly quiet and contemplative. Marian tried to draw him into conversation, but he seemed lost in thought. Sylvia noticed he had the same habit as Sylvia’s mother of running his finger on the rim of the glass. They finished dinner and skipped dessert. Phil, Anne and Marian told her to put her wallet away when she tried to help pay for dinner. Phil finally won the toss claiming that he certainly owed Marian at least a dinner for keeping Owen in the last few weeks. Exhausted they all turned in almost as soon as they returned to Marian’s.

  Sylvia dropped off to sleep as soon as she crawled into bed. She dreamed of the Green Man and everything glowing with light – people, plants, trees—everything. It was joyful and very, very beautiful. Unconsciously she sighed with pleasure in her sleep.

  Sylvia had gotten up early, surprised to find that Phil had already been out for a run and Anne sipping coffee at the kitchen table with Marian. They were talking quietly. They looked up and smiled when Sylvia came downstairs. She was wearing only the sleeveless portion of the blue suit she had worn at Gran’s funeral.

  “Good morning,” Sylvia greeted, walking over to the cupboard to get a cup and make her usual café au lait.

  “Good morning,” they both answered.

  Phil was still out of breath and was toweling off from his run and paused for a moment for a long drink of water. He was leaning on the counter.

  Marian had made her wonderful muffins and they were sitting peeking out from a basket on the kitchen table. Sylvia helped herself when Marian pushed the basket towards her.

  “Phil, come and have one of Marian’s wonderful muffins,” Anne said to him. “They’re tremendous.”

  Phil stood at the counter and shook his head. “No thanks,” he said, “I’m going up to shower and then I’ll be down for the usual.”

  He left the kitchen as Anne said, sotto voce, “The ‘usual’ is sticks and twigs bran cereal,” making a face. She laughed and Marian and Sylvia joined in. He’s become such a health food nut as he’s gotten older, she commented in a loving, yet complaining sort of way.

  When the laughter died down, Sylvia said, “I don’t know what the schedule is today,” she said. “I haven’t a clue when I’ll get back.”

  “Don’t worry,” Marian said, “You know I can always drop another potato in the pot,” she said with a smile.

  Sylvia smiled back and then asked her seriously, “I don’t know what’s happening with the media,” she said, “but I can move back home if…”

  Marian interrupted her, “Absolutely not!” she insisted. “I suspect that the funeral could be a media blitz and when Owen is released on bail…” she stopped too and shook her head.

  “All right,” Sylvia answered quietly. “I wonder when things will be normal again.”

  “Not for quite awhile,” Anne added her voice, “I suspect. We need to find a way to clear Owen.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement.

  Sylvia looked up at the clock. “I should be getting to work,” she announced. “Tell Owen,” she paused for a moment, “tell Owen I’ll look forward to seeing him soon,” she said trying to be positive.

  “Hopefully, tonight,” Marian said and Anne nodded along with her.

  Sylvia left for work only half listening to the radio. She wasn’t paying attention until the radio news came on and announced Anna’s funeral and Owen’s possible bail. They were in the thick of the local news. She made a face at the radio and pushed in a CD. The media were not at Thurmont, but she suspected they were lying in wait at the funeral home.

  The morning was long. Even though things were subdued after the past few days, she was still having difficulty concentrating on her work. She sent a long overdue email to Gwen, explaining what had happened in the last week. She stopped by Carol’s office where Carol was busy answering the phone with one call after the other. Carol rolled her eyes and jotted a note that she would be taking a break in a few minutes and would stop by the office. Sylvia suddenly realized that her office phone had been strangely quiet. Being in the public information office, she realized her office should be the one to be battered by phone calls from media and the curious. She brought it up to Mr. Carter when she returned to the office. He told her that due to her involvement with the case that Carol received some of the calls, but the majority of the calls were transferred to Thurmont’s sister company. He asked her how she was holding up.

  “I think I’m still numb,” she told him truthfully.

  He nodded and said, “Let me know if you need anything.”

  Carol came in and sat down with a plop in the chair in the outer office. Sylvia heard her and went out to greet her.

  “Whew!” she said, “The phone has been ringing off the hook this morning.”

  “Thanks for taking some of the heat,” Sylvia told her. “I understand that you’re the one handling a lot of the calls.”

  “Yup,” said Carol. “It’s no problem,” she said casually. “Most of the calls I can refer up to big brother or say ‘no comment at this time.’”

  “Are you going to the fun
eral?” Sylvia asked hopefully.

  “No way!” Carol answered. “You know how I feel…uh…felt about Anna. Anyway, someone needs to be here to hold down the fort,” she told Sylvia.

  “Do you want to grab an early lunch before you head out?” Carol asked.

  “Sure,” Sylvia said, a little uncertainly. “I’m not sure I can eat a lot. Let me check with Mr. Carter,” she said.

  Mr. Carter gave his okay and Sylvia and Carol headed to the cafeteria. It was crowded and Carol made a comment that ‘great minds think alike’ as they hunted for a free table. They noticed that many of the people were in dressy clothes. Sylvia finally found a small table near the exit. She motioned for Carol and they both made a beeline to sit down. Sylvia cleared away the last diners’ crumbs and spills.

  “Yuck,” she said throwing away soiled napkins.

  “The people who were here last were pigs!” Carol retorted as they both brushed off their seats and sat down gingerly.

  “How are you doing?” Carol asked Sylvia. “How’s Owen?” she asked.

  Sylvia shrugged. “Like I told Mr. Carter, I’m still numb,” she said. “As for Owen, I haven’t been able to speak to him. His parents came down yesterday,” she said.

  Sylvia took a half-hearted bite or two from her sandwich. The food seemed to stick in her throat and she washed it down with her diet soda. Many of the diners were exiting.

  “I’m not trying to rush you,” Carol said to Sylvia, “but, I think you’d better be headed out soon if you want to get a parking space within a mile of the funeral home,” she suggested.

  Sylvia looked around at the emptying cafeteria. “I suppose so,” she said reluctantly. “Do you know where the funeral home is in Deerfield?”

  “Sure,” Carol said and gave her directions. “It’s the biggest funeral home in the area,” she told Sylvia and gave her directions and tips on where to park if the lot was full.

  Sylvia threw most of her lunch in the trash, grabbed her soda and said goodbye to Carol. She told Mr. Carter she was headed out and he said, “see you in the morning,” and ‘Good luck.” She hurried to her car. The sweltering summer heat and humidity had socked into the area. Sylvia put on her sunglasses against the sharp glare and turned her air conditioning on full until she could comfortably touch the steering wheel. Most of the folks had already left for the viewing as the parking lot was quite empty. Sylvia drove to Deerfield and tried to remember Carol’s directions. She should have written them down. After a couple of wrong turns, she found the funeral home by the media vans parked outside. The parking lot was full and they were interviewing people as they got out of their cars. She thought it was probably good that she was late and had to park a few blocks away. She walked quickly to the funeral home door, dodging reporters and glad she was wearing dark glasses. She kept her head down and went into the crowded funeral home. The smell of the flowers and too many people almost made her retch. It brought back vivid memories of Gran’s funeral only a few weeks ago. Sylvia stood at the back of the room. There were beautiful flower arrangements and a large blanket of flowers over the closed casket. She was glad it was closed remembering the state of Anna’s skin when they pulled her from the mud. She closed her eyes and almost fell into a crying woman.

  “I’m so sorry,” Sylvia said, “I lost my balance,” she told her.

  The woman continued to sob and shook her head to communicate that it was all right.

  “Are you all right?” Sylvia asked, concerned, as she didn’t recognize the woman as being from Thurmont.

  “Such a sad thing,” she sobbed, “I always knew she would come to a bad end.”

  “Are you a relative?” Sylvia asked, surprised.

  The woman nodded. She was a plump woman who was dressed in a worn black skirt, blouse and plastic patent leather sandals. She had her gray hair pulled into a bun but, long straight strands were slipping out.

  “I was one of Anna’s foster parents,” she told Sylvia.

  “One of her foster parents?” Sylvia couldn’t help but, comment.

  The woman nodded. “Her parents died in a fire when she was eight or nine,” the woman told her. “Poor thing, she was badly abused. Sexually, you know. They think that she possibly set the fire, but no one ever knew,” she said. The woman blew her nose noisily.

  “I’m Grace,” she introduced herself as she calmed down.

  Sylvia introduced herself and took the hand Grace offered, trying to surreptitiously wipe it on her dress afterward. She looked at Grace puzzled.

  “Are you a friend of Anna’s?” Grace asked, hiccoughing a little bit.

  Sylvia shook her head, but realized that Grace couldn’t see it as she was staring at the casket.

  “I’m an acquaintance,” Sylvia told her.

  “I’m surprised she had such a good showing,” Grace said, looking about the room. “I didn’t think she would have this many friends,” Grace commented.

  Sylvia didn’t want to tell Grace that Anna was not well liked, and that this was an opportunity to get out of work a little early as well as getting satisfaction for some curiosity. Grace went on with her story.

  “She was always such a troubled child,” Grace told her. “I think I was the fourth or fifth home she had been to,” she said. “Anna always wanted her way and she didn’t care how she got it,” Grace confessed. “Honestly, I think all my gray hair came when she lived with me.”

  “What do you mean?” Sylvia asked, curious.

  “Oh!” Grace said, laughing and crying at the same time. “I could tell you stories about that one! It amazes me that she made it through her education without landing in jail. But, she was a smart cookie, always on the edge of trouble, but very determined and one of the most cunning people I’ve had occasion to meet.”

  Sylvia wasn’t sure how to react to all of this so, she tried to keep a straight face and just listen. Grace seemed bent on telling her story. She continued to cry and talk about Anna.

  “You know, Sylvia, my theory is that Anna was so hurt and angry from her childhood abuses that she wanted to pay back the world somehow by hurting everything she came in contact with,” Grace confided. “I felt so helpless. She turned away from any affection whatsoever. I tried so hard with her,” Grace said shaking her head. “But, she did everything she could to try to hurt me. I lost my marriage because of her,” she commented, “but I did love her. I don’t think she ever knew that,” she said softly.

  “I hope she knew,” Sylvia said, “But your story…It sounds like something from a talk show,” Sylvia commented.

  “You’re right there!” Grace exclaimed with a bitter laugh, “Something that should be on with that guy who has all the outlandish people.”

  The service started and Grace stopped talking, but continued to cry quietly. Sylvia felt a little sick to her stomach with all of these revelations about Anna. She only half listened to what was being said by the company executives telling everyone what a good employee and fine scientist Anna was. Sylvia looked around the room to see if she knew anyone. She saw Headley and Keely up front with all of the executives. About seven or eight people down from her was Ed, the custodian. He stood leaning back against the wall. He nodded to her and gave her a brief smile when she glanced his way and she nodded and smiled back. The priest gave a short sermon and the service was finally over. Mr. Headley announced that a gathering in Anna’s honor would be held at a country club nearby. Sylvia whispered to Grace if she knew where it was.

  Grace nodded, “I want to go up one last time,” she said. “Nice meetin’ you,” she told Sylvia.

  “Nice meeting you,” Sylvia replied.

  She didn’t really feel like going to the country club, but was curious to see who would show up. She heard from someone, or read somewhere, that the murderer would show up at the funeral of the dead person just to know they were taunting the police. She wasn’t really going to play detective, she told herself, but she was just curious.

  She escaped past the reporters
by having on her sunglasses and leaving with a throng of other Thurmont employees. Sylvia was also surprised that the gathering was being held at the country club. She wondered if Thurmont was picking up the tab or Headley. People had already started drinking from the open bar when she arrived, and were attacking the cheese and fruit and crackers. Sylvia ordered a glass of wine and nibbled at some cheese and fruit. She looked around at the welter of faces. So many looked solemn and others uncomfortable. One gentleman looked extremely familiar. It took her a minute before she realized it was Detective Rogers in plain clothes. He sidled up next to her.

  “You’re not going to give away my secret, are you?” he asked.

  Sylvia stared at him, “Don’t you think Owen killed her?” she asked.

  “I’m always looking for leads,” he said quietly.

  Sylvia nodded. “Have you had a chance to talk with Anna’s foster mother?” she asked him.

  “Who?” he asked incredulously.

  “Her foster mother,” Sylvia told him. “She talked to me during the service,” she said, “and had a lot of interesting things to say about Anna. She’s over there,” she pointed to Grace who had finally stopped crying and was trying to eat a chicken wing gracefully while holding a drink in the other hand. It wasn’t working too well. She had already wiped a splotch from her blouse.

  “Thanks,” he whispered to her and went over to Grace.

  “Did you know her well?” a voice asked from behind her.

  She turned abruptly to find Ed behind her.

  “Ed,” she said, “you startled me! No, I didn’t know her that well,” she told him.

  “Me either,” he said. “She was an odd one for sure. I thought I knew her a little, but…” he broke off.

  Sylvia noticed that the red had crept up his hand. “Have you been to your doctor yet about the poison ivy?” she asked him.

  “Nah,” he said, “but I should soon,” he replied. “It’s gotten a lot worse.”

  “I can see that,” Sylvia said. She watched him as he swiped his hand across a sweaty forehead in the highly air conditioned room. She wondered if he was running a fever.