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

by Sharon Brubaker

  The town was crowded. The Pennsylvania navy had invaded the town for the holiday weekend and the streets were busy. Shoppers crowded the streets and sat on the little decks to the restaurants. Sylvia and Owen sat inside in the cool air conditioning rather than on the little deck attached to the restaurant and ordered pancakes and eggs and sausages. The waitress was red cheeked, smiling and missing a couple of teeth, but very nice. She reminded Sylvia of descriptions of a red-cheeked dairy maid from folklore. She left them be and unobtrusively filled their coffee cups when they started to empty.

  “I keep putting you off about Anna,” he said. “I really haven’t wanted to think about it or face thinking about it.”

  Sylvia nodded and urged him to go on with her eyes as she sipped the coffee.

  “I don’t know what caused those tracks on her body, but I would like to find out,” he said. “The problem is that I’m not allowed back onto the property until this whole thing is cleared up.”

  “If I got you samples, would that help?” Sylvia asked him.

  “I’m not sure you should be out there with a murderer running loose,” he said putting his hand over hers. “It’s too dangerous.”

  Sylvia hadn’t considered this. Before she could say anything, their waitress brought their food over to them. Owen dug into his pancakes and sausage and Sylvia took her time savoring the nutty flavor of the buckwheat pancakes.

  Finally, she asked, “You had some theories, what are they?”

  “It’s too far out,” he said, but I feel it’s some kind of organism making those tracks. The question is what kind of organism? There’s nothing out there to go on for even a theory.”

  “What are they referring to when they are talking about the numbers?” Sylvia asked.

  “Oh,” Owen answered. “As I said before, Anna was manipulating data to make her department look good and then, I learned, she was sleeping with the EPA agents so that they would let some of the mistakes slide by. I’m not sure how cleaned up Thurmont is from the superfund cleanup,” he told her wryly. “It’s still a dicey situation.”

  “Oh!” Sylvia exclaimed softly, her eyes getting wider by the minute.

  “Look,” Owen said, brushing back the forelock, “I shouldn’t even be talking about this—especially in such a public place,” he told her with frustration tingeing his voice. “I had planned to tell you this at the lighthouse and more, but we fell asleep,” he said and shrugged his shoulders.

  “But as you said earlier,” Sylvia reminded him gently, “It was wonderful to sleep. I think we both needed the rest,” she said.

  “And the companionship and the comfort,” he finished.

  Sylvia nodded her head, “Yes,” she told him. “Definitely.”

  “Look,” she said, “if I got you those samples, could you test them?”

  “I don’t know,” Owen said, sighing again. “The equipment I have is crude compared to the lab at Thurmont. I’m not sure what to do,” he said pushing his hair back again and pushing his glasses up on his nose.

  The waitress interrupted again, taking away their empty plates and then came back and asked if they wanted more coffee. Both answered ‘no’ and Owen asked for the check.

  When they were back in the car, Sylvia said, “I think it’s important to get those samples. We just need to figure out a way to get them tested,” Sylvia said. “And, since you can’t go into Thurmont and you can’t leave the area, that might be a little difficult.”

  “I know,” Owen said gloomily.

  “It’s all going to work out,” Sylvia said determinedly, “It has too.”

  Owen took her hand and squeezed it. He drove her home. Her mother was gone. Owen followed Sylvia inside and Sylvia sat down on the couch looking out at the water.

  “It’s too bad you don’t have your swimsuit along,” she remarked to Owen.

  He had sidled up to her on the couch and had begun kissing her softly on the hair and was working his way down to her lips. It was difficult, but Sylvia pushed him away gently.

  “I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” she told Owen hesitatingly.

  He looked at her a little askance before he asked, “Why?”

  “Just as you told me before,” Sylvia said, “We need to be careful with everything that has been going on.”

  “Well,” Owen said firmly, “I honestly don’t give a damn anymore.” He reached out to take her in his arms and she moved away.

  “Owen,” Sylvia said, “I don’t jump into relationships lightly either. We haven’t had a chance to talk about this and I don’t want to jump into anything with the police and the paparazzi breathing down our necks! The police have already questioned whether you and I have a relationship and I said “No!” Give me a little time,” she asked softly and beseechingly, “please?”

  Owen moved a little further away from Sylvia on the couch and raked his fingers through his hair. She sat with her hands twisting in her lap.

  “Okay,” he said finally and looked at her and changed the subject. “You know, Anna was a master. She is still hurting people –even though she is dead,” he said gritting his teeth. “She’s the reason why we can’t be together,” he said bitterly.

  “That’s what Grace said,” Sylvia told him.

  “Grace who?” he asked.

  “Anna’s stepmother,” she said patiently. “I mentioned her the night you got out of…”

  “Jail,” he finished.

  “Yes,” Sylvia said. “She said that Anna was so hurt as a child that she would do anything to hurt someone,” Sylvia paused. “Sad,” she said.

  “Yeah, well…” Owen said losing his train of thought. “She made a lot of enemies. I wonder how the police are cataloging all of this.”

  “If we can find some sort of laboratory that you can use,” Sylvia suggested changing the subject from Anna, “then maybe we can find out what’s going on with that muck and with whatever caused…”she stopped and swallowed, “whatever happened to Anna.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” Owen told her. “I’m barely above house arrest.”

  “I know,” she sighed, “but there must be a way. Have they stated how she was murdered yet?”

  Her mother came in through the kitchen calling out a cheery ‘Hello!’ interrupting their conversation.

  “We’re in here,” Sylvia called back.

  “How was the hike?” her mother asked.

  “Great!” Owen said. Sylvia nodded in agreement.

  “I haven’t been down there in years and years,” Mary said. “I understand there’s a fund to rebuild the keeper’s house.”

  “Yes,” Sylvia answered, “We read about it on the sign.”

  Her mother prattled about her memories of going to the lighthouse as a child. She had been out shopping for some sales at the local outlet mall.

  “By the way,” she mentioned. “Marian expects us for dinner.”

  As much as she loved Marian, Sylvia was weary of the social expectations of the last few days. She wanted to be by herself for awhile, but she didn’t say anything. Marian picked up on it when they arrived later that day, asking if she was all right.

  “I think I’m weary,” Sylvia said, “I wish I could sleep for a couple of days,” she told her. She had come into the kitchen to help Marian with the salad. Everyone else was laughing and talking out on the patio.

  “The stress of what has happened has taken toll on all of us,” Marian told her. “And, it will be more than a day or two until you, I mean we, will feel almost normal again. Don’t you agree?” she asked Sylvia.

  “Did you ever reach Jon?” Marian asked her.

  Sylvia shook her head, “No,” she told Marian, “His secretary said he was out of town until Tuesday.”

  “Ahh,” Marian said, understanding, “He’s probably out on his boat,” she told Sylvia. “He has a huge sailboat and he loves to meander down the bay every chance he gets.”

  “Marian,” Sylvia asked, suddenly inspired. “Do you still ha
ve contacts at the State University?”

  “Some,” Marian admitted, “Why?”

  “Do you know of anyone in the biology or chemistry department?” Sylvia asked.

  Marian thought for a moment, “Yes,” she said, “One of the biology professors was active in the Greenways project that Holly and I were involved in. Why?” she asked curiously.

  “I wondered if there was a lab that Owen could use in the area,” Sylvia told her. “He wanted to run a couple of tests and use some microscopic equipment.”

  “I’m sure he could have access,” Marian said, “Especially during the summer. I think their classes are at a minimal level. I could give him a call.”

  “You would need to talk to Owen to see what he would need,” Sylvia said.

  “All right,” Marian agreed. “I’ll do that as soon as I can.”

  “Thanks,” Sylvia said, with a sigh of relief. Maybe they could start to find some answers instead of things lying stagnant while the police figured out what was happening.

  She went to get everyone for dinner. It was eminently cooler inside than out with the old house’s thick walls. They sat, and Sylvia could hear the hum of the whole house fan. A slight breeze tugged at the curtains at the windows. After talking with Marian, Sylvia relaxed visibly during dinner Marian had made and joined in with the laughter at the table. Looking around the room she was surprised to easily see auras. Anne’s aura was a vivid orange color and Phil’s a medium blue. Marian’s was a mixture of golden yellow and deep blue and her mother’s a golden glow around her head. Owen’s was a mixture of blue and green. Sylvia did not realize she was staring, but Owen looked at her quizzically. She smiled at him and he flashed a grin that made her smile deep inside. After dinner, while they did their usual chore of cleaning up, Sylvia told Owen she had asked Marian about the use of a laboratory at State University.

  He was surprised, and looked at her with what Sylvia thought was an odd look.

  “What?” she questioned. “What’s wrong?”

  Owen didn’t answer at first, but just shook his head.

  “I think you’re assuming a lot,” he said. “First you’re assuming that something in that soil is responsible for Anna’s condition and or her death. Secondly you think we’re going to find something in the soil. How did you come by that conclusion?” he asked her. “Also, you’re assuming I know what I’m looking for and I haven’t a clue!”

  Sylvia gave a little shrug, surprised at his reaction. “Just a hunch,” she said quietly.

  “A hunch isn’t scientific evidence,” he said, his voice rising.

  “Okay, okay,” Sylvia said, “I don’t want to fight about this! I thought I was helping.”

  “Let’s get the lab first, okay?” he told her. “Then we can discuss how to proceed.”

  “All right,” she agreed, not happy to wait.

  Sylvia was relieved the next morning when her mother left early to get a head start on the holiday traffic. It had been a peaceful weekend with her mother, but she was ready for some quiet time in her own house. She had finally stopped thinking that it was ‘Gran’s house’ all the time and had started to think of it as her own home. She was still sitting at the kitchen table and as she looked around, loving the house, but thinking of a few changes. She wondered what might be a first easy project, and decided on painting the small bathroom on the main floor. She took her coffee and went into the bathroom to look around. Gran had not updated it because it had been used as a place to dump wet swimsuits, and wash off the sand from swimming. Some of the paint had cracked near the ceiling. First it needed a good scrubbing and Sylvia began the job industriously. Forty-five minutes later, everything was sparkling and she was grimy. She took a second shower and headed for the home improvement store to look for ideas. The tile was still in good shape. It was small squares of polished ceramic in a neutral sand color. Sylvia liked blue and finally chose a soft French blue that would not make the room look too small. The salesperson tried to sell her wallpaper border and tempted, Sylvia took a look through several books. She opted for a lighthouse border that complimented the paint that she chose. Laden with her purchases she set off for home and turned on the radio at top volume and began to paint. She was just finishing when the phone rang and she ran to answer it.

  “Hello,” she said breathlessly, hoping not to get paint on the portable phone.

  “Hello,” a deep voice answered that she did not recognize.

  “You sound like you’re breathing heavy,” the voice said.

  “Who is this?” Sylvia asked, annoyed at the bold rudeness of the anonymous caller.

  “Sorry,” the voice said, introducing himself, “This is Richard, Richard Headley.”

  “Oh!” Sylvia replied more than a little surprised.

  “I was wondering if you were busy this evening,” he said, “I thought you might want to go out to dinner.”

  Sylvia was so surprised at his invitation she almost dropped the phone into the bucket of paint. She finally recovered, “Thank you, but no,” Sylvia answered him. “I’m right in the middle of a home improvement project and I’m covered in paint,” she told him lying just a little, seeing only one or two specks of paint on her.

  “Another time then,” he told her. “See you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone.

  Sylvia stared at the dead phone line in her hand—surprised, appalled and stumped, not knowing what to do. She put the phone back in its cradle and went to finish up the painting and clean up her tools. She cleaned herself up and poured herself a tall cold glass of water, and went out onto the deck to sip at it. Headley calling her was a shock and it rattled her nerves. Sylvia changed out of her paint clothes and went shopping for accessories for the new bath. She found new curtains, shower curtain and hand towels all with a lighthouse motif similar to the one in the border. Excited she returned home to check to see if the paint was dry and to begin to hang the border. She had never attempted wallpapering before, but this border was self-sticking and went on fairly easily. Sylvia was worried about leaving air bubbles, and was grateful the saleswoman had talked her into getting a smoothing tool at the home improvement store. A couple of hours later she hung the curtains and shower curtain, and stood back to admire her handiwork. Pleased with the results, she poured herself a glass of wine and nibbled on some pepperoni and cheese. Finally, Sylvia made herself a sandwich for dinner and flipped channels on the television. Vaguely, she wondered what Marian, Owen, Phil and Anne were doing today. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she remembered a tour of a historical site nearby. She went in search of a book, then sat on the deck, propping her feet on the railing. She read until dusk started to intrude, and she was straining her eyes.

  The next day, Mr. Carter had taken another vacation day and Sylvia was on her own in the office. Carol was busy, so Sylvia puttered putting finishing touches on the plans for Bay Days. She emailed Carol to see if she was interested in helping out and throwing out the carrot of overtime pay. Then Sylvia asked if and when they could meet for lunch. Ed delivered a bunch of boxes midmorning. His arm was still wrapped and the skin around the bandage was bright red and angry looking.

  “Any better?” Sylvia asked when he greeted her.

  “Nah,” Ed said, shaking his head. His normally smiling visage was clouded. “The doctors can’t figure it out,” he told her. “They gave me a new medicine and they want me to go for more tests, but I don’t have the sick time built up yet.”

  Sylvia’s stomach jumped uncomfortably when she looked at the bandaged hand and angry red skin. She glanced back up at Ed and thought she could see a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

  “How’s your boyfriend?” he asked her changing the subject.

  “Not my boyfriend,” Sylvia said ruefully, “but, a friend. Fine,” she answered, “for the circumstances.”

  “Any leads on the killer?” he asked her.

  “I wouldn’t know,” Sylvia told him honestly.

  “Hmm,” Ed said and paused before he
said, “I’d better get back to work,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Sylvia said, “I think,” she told him with a grin. “It looks like more work has arrived for me.”

  He wheeled the dolly with the boxes to a corner and left. Sylvia unpacked the Bay Days pamphlets and looked through the rest of the boxes. There were posters, pencils and balloons as well as promotional literature on the company. Her pamphlets were among the boxes and she took a couple for herself and a set to send to her mom.

  Carol was shocked, but not surprised that Headley had called her over the weekend. She made comments that Sylvia was ‘fresh meat’ in the company and warned her to be careful. After a long chatty lunch with Carol, Sylvia returned to the office only to stand still in the doorway, staring. A gorgeous bouquet of delphinium, roses, stock and summer flowers sat on her desk. She looked carefully, but there wasn’t a card. Immediately she thought of Owen and traced the delicate bloom of a miniature iris with her finger. She picked up the phone to call Owen to thank him. No one was home, so she left a message on the answering machine with a cheery hello to Marian and asking if Owen would give her a call when he had a chance.

  It was shortly after Sylvia got home that Owen knocked at the kitchen door. Sylvia ran to open it. When Owen stepped into the kitchen Sylvia flung herself at him crying with a delighted, “Thank you! Thank you! They’re lovely!”