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

by Sharon Brubaker

  “Hopefully, it will cool things down,” Owen said. “The humidity and the heat here are nearly tropical.”

  Marian chuckled. “England was humid too, only cooler most of the time. I remember many a day of feeling I would never get warm,” she told them.

  Sylvia lazily wondered out loud what time it was and when Owen told her it was after nine o’clock, she jumped up to go.

  “I need to get home,” she said, “I have to go to work tomorrow.”

  “All right,” Marian said before she turned to Owen, “Owen, would you follow Sylvia home? I don’t trust Headley,” she said.

  “No problem,” Owen said, “I’ll go and get my keys.”

  “There’s no need,” Sylvia half protested as she thanked Marian for dinner.

  Marian gave her a hug.

  Owen followed her home in his car, and hopped out to open her car door and then the kitchen door. He checked through the house and pronounced it empty before coming back to Sylvia who was sitting in the living room. She had opened the French doors to the breeze that accompanied the front that had moved in. Owen sat down beside her and put his arm around her and Sylvia settled into the crook in his arm. It was only a moment before he was kissing her. There was a rumble of thunder and a crack of lightning. The hair on Sylvia’s arms stood on end, but it wasn’t from the impending storm.

  “Syl,” he whispered into her hair, “I’m tired of being patient. I’m tired of worrying if the damn cops will find out. I simply don’t care anymore.”

  “Me either,” Sylvia whispered back. “I want you,” she said, insistence in her voice.

  He kissed her deeper, but she pulled away and stood up pulling him by the hand. She led him upstairs to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and pulled him down onto the bed beside her. There he started kissing her eyes, nibbling at her ears, and kissing her neck and moving downward. Sylvia thought she would go mad. She wanted to tear off her clothes and his, but he wouldn’t let her. He kept kissing her softly and insistently until she groaned with pleasure. Finally, when she thought she could stand it no longer, he undressed and gently started to remove her clothes. Finally skin-to-skin, Sylvia could feel the fire building, and when they joined she cried out, not only with pleasure, but also with the surge of dazzling energy that raced through her body. Much later, she awoke from the deep sleep that had claimed her, she propped herself up on one elbow to look at Owen’s sleeping form. She didn’t want to wake him. Gently, very gently, she kissed his shoulder. He moaned and reached out an arm to pull her into him. This time she began to kiss him. She kissed him awake to begin the pleasure again.

  Morning came much too soon. Sylvia extracted herself from Owen’s clasp. He had been holding her close. She tucked the covers around him and tiptoed downstairs to make coffee. After she made her café au lait she stepped out onto the deck where it was cool, damp and pearly. It had rained during the night. It had been a slow, steady soughing rain. Now the sky was clear and only the faintest of pink tinged the horizon. The rest of the world had turned golden in the clear morning sunlight. Sylvia sighed and sipped at her coffee. Her bones felt as fluid as the warm liquid in the cup. She leaned on the railing sipping her coffee and looking out at the water, dazzling in the sunlight. Sylvia showered and dressed and brought up a cup of coffee to place on the bedside table. She whispered in Owen’s ear that she had to go to work and to have a good day. He awakened slightly, gave her a kiss, and groaned and rolled over.

  Sylvia had never seen Mr. Carter so agitated. He was prancing around, nearly barking orders at her and trying to put final touches on the booth and activities for Bay Days. He was not only concerned about Headley’s interest in Sylvia, but it made him nervous that Headley scrutinized everything they did. Sylvia had heard Mr. Carter say under his breath that ‘he didn’t trust the little bastard.” He recruited Ed to head to the town park to set up the tent for the Bay Days celebration on Friday. He re-organized the boxes of handouts. Sylvia just smiled in amusement at him and continued to smile throughout the day.

  Carol teased her unmercifully at lunch, “Whoa!” she said and backed away from Sylvia when she came to sit down with her.

  “What?” Sylvia asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “The glow girl,” Carol said, “It would knock a person over. I know what you’ve been up to!” she said slyly.

  Sylvia blushed, and then said seriously, “Keep it to yourself, okay?”

  “Why?” Carol asked. “When you’re in love…and lust,” she said the last part for Sylvia’s ears alone, “you should shout it to the world.”

  “But the whole investigation thing,” Sylvia said. “We have said we were not involved with one another. And we haven’t been until…” she stopped.

  “Okay,” Carol said and then added darkly, “you’d better stay away from Headley. He’ll know right away,” she said quietly and emphatically.

  Sylvia told Carol about the upcoming weekend assignment. Carol suggested that she roll in poison ivy or something to get out of it and made Sylvia laugh even though the feeling of dread was tightly balled in her stomach.

  When she got home she found Owen was in the kitchen washing and drying lettuce in a salad spinner and scrubbed potatoes glistening on the counter next to a couple of rich looking steaks.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Since we want to keep things low key,” Owen said, “I thought a romantic dinner here would be better than going out.”

  “Sounds lovely,” Sylvia said, surprised and pleased.

  Steaks, potatoes, Caesar salad kit and a bottle of wine lay on the countertop. Owen pulled out the wine opener, opened a bottle of rich pinot noir and handed Sylvia a glass. She offered to help, but he told her to sit and relax. Sylvia didn’t argue. Owen put the potatoes in the microwave and set the timer. Asking Sylvia to pick up the bottle of wine and an extra glass, he motioned for her to follow him out to the deck where he lit the grill and put on the steaks. Sylvia noticed the table was already set with beautiful fresh flowers and candles.

  “Let’s sit down,” Owen suggested and they sat, looking out over the water. The rain the night before had broken the streak of heat and humidity. The air was warm, but dry and it was very pleasant to sit on the deck. Sylvia squinted in the tawny evening sunshine. The river was active with jet skis and water skiers with gray little waves slapping anxiously against the shoreline. It was quite noisy and they had to raise their voices a little over the noise of the boats. Personally, Sylvia thought the cigarette speed-boats should be banned, just due to the noise. They roared up the bay without a care and looked like a lot of fun. However, the noise was ear splitting and grinding as they tried to sit and relax on the deck.

  “How was your day?” Owen asked her.

  “Fine,” Sylvia answered, “Mr. Carter is on a roll getting ready for Bay Days this weekend.”

  “Did you have any problems from Headley?” he asked her.

  She turned to look at Owen, endeared but also amused at his jealousy, “No,” she replied. “I haven’t seen or heard from him today.” She changed the subject. “How about you?” She asked. “How was your day?”

  “Same as a lot of others recently,” he said. “Quiet. I’m reading a couple of books, helped Marian with some heavy cleaning, mowed her lawn…” he trailed off.

  “Busy,” Sylvia said feeling like a contented old married couple.

  Owen went back to the grill to turn the steaks and back inside to check on the potatoes and work on the salad. This was nice, Sylvia thought. She could get used to this. They ended up eating slowly, savoring their food and each other’s company. Their voices were quiet matching the quietude that had finally settled on the bay. As twilight fell the last chatter of birdsong, the jet skis and boats settled down for the night and everything was hushed. There was a sailboat lazily making it’s way toward the dock, but if it was motoring, it was quiet. Long shadows from shoreline trees darkened long streaks on the bay’s shoreline. Owen lit the candles as li
ghts dotted the bay, the docks and homes on the water.

  “Good news,” he said, remembering.

  “What?” Sylvia asked him turning her gaze from the water to look at Owen.

  “The guy with the lab is on vacation, but will be back this weekend. His colleague didn’t see any problem with me using a lab at State next week.”

  “Great!” Sylvia said. “Let me know when you want me to get samples.”

  They cleaned up dinner and returned to the deck to sip the last of the wine and watch the sunset. The sun was a gleaming streak of red-hot orange that lasted for a few moments before it sank below the horizon. The sky deepened its blue turning from Cerulean to a deep and dusky blue.

  “Do you want dessert?” he asked her in the growing dusk.

  Sylvia watched fireflies hover near the water, sending out brief messages to one another. She remembered how many times as a child she had run wildly over the lawn catching them for Gran. It was odd to be feeling all grown up. Part of her wanted to run out and catch those fireflies, shouting in the joy of capture and the even greater joy of letting them go free. But, now she was grown up and she looked at Owen with a different kind of joy in her voice.

  “No,” she said huskily, “I don’t want dessert from the kitchen,” she said and Sylvia pulled him up out of the chair and led him up the stairs.

  Chapter 27

  It is only when we are aware of the earth and of the earth as poetry that we truly live.

  --Henry Beston

  Sylvia couldn’t believe how quickly Wednesday passed. She lived for the time when she and Owen could be with one another and worked blindly with a small smile on her face. Mr. Carter was too caught up in the Bay Days preparations to notice that his employee was mooning about, thinking of the previous night or fantasizing what was to come that night with Owen.

  She rushed home as quickly as she could and was disappointed that Owen wasn’t waiting for her. She heard a car in the driveway and rushed downstairs only to find a dark, blue, unmarked police car with Detective Rogers and Detective Josephson. Sylvia paled considerably and her stomach seemed to fall to the floor. She hung onto the doorframe at the kitchen door. The detectives had started towards the front door and turned when they saw her at the side of the house.

  “Ms. Ash?” Detective Rogers said, “Are you all right?” he asked with concern in his voice looking at her pale figure.

  They came up to the doorway and Sylvia stood, not moving.

  “May we come in?” Detective Josephson asked gently.

  “Of course,” Sylvia said, recovering, “I’m sorry. I was …”

  “Expecting someone else?” Detective Rogers asked.

  Sylvia blushed, “Well,” she hesitated, “yes, I was,” she admitted.

  “Mr. Anderson will be along shortly,” Detective Josephson said. He tried to keep the smile from his face.

  Surprised, Sylvia led them to the living room and motioned, without speaking for them to sit down. As the detectives sat, she heard more cars and was puzzled. She went back out to the kitchen to see Owen pulling up in his own car, and Marian and Jon in Jon’s Mercedes. Owen came with a paper bag and Marian wore a smile. Totally confused, Sylvia held the door for them.

  “Good evening,” Jon greeted, “Have the detectives arrived?”

  Sylvia nodded and Marian patted her arm. Marian led Jon through the kitchen and into the living room. Owen entered last, taking a moment to kiss Sylvia enthusiastically before they all gathered in the living room.

  Everyone was seated and looking solemn. Everyone that is except Owen who was quite jumpy and he would not sit down. Sylvia also noticed that Marian kept looking around. Sylvia looked at everyone quizzically.

  Detective Rogers cleared his throat before he said, “Ms. Ash…”

  Owen interrupted him with joy in his voice, “Syl, I’ve been exonerated!” He plopped down beside her and kissed her enthusiastically again and hugged her.

  Sylvia couldn’t believe it. “What?” she asked.

  “Exonerated,” Owen told her. “They finally got into my computer and saw my emails to Headley. Also…”

  “Also,” Detective Rogers said, “Evidence shows that Mr. Anderson could not have committed the murder.”

  Sylvia looked shocked and then her shock went to joy. She didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. She threw her arms around Owen’s neck and hugged him tightly and tears of joy started to stream down her face. Sylvia pulled herself together after a short time. Marian had gone to get a box of tissues and she wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked around at the gathered group.

  “Why is everyone here?” Sylvia asked Owen in particular but loud enough for everyone here.

  Owen grinned, “Champagne for one thing,” he said holding up the brown paper bag.

  “And the officers would like to ask a favor of you,” Jonathan asked.

  Sylvia looked puzzled. Detective Rogers cleared his throat a couple of times before he spoke.

  “Mr. Anderson’s emails were quite incriminating towards Ms. Hanson,” he told her. “In fact, they gave us reason to suspect him originally.”

  “What changed your mind?” Sylvia asked, curious.

  “The autopsy report proved Ms. Hanson’s killer was left handed,” he said, “and Mr. Anderson is right handed.”

  “Ahh,” Sylvia said. “But how does this involve me?”

  “Mr. Anderson told us that you will be with Mr. Headley this weekend?” he asked her.

  Sylvia nodded, still looking puzzled.

  “He’s a prime suspect, even though his alibi seems air tight,” Detective Rogers continued.

  Jonathan interrupted, “Owen’s emails imply that there are some serious management issues with the environmental dumping,” he said, “It’s quite possible that with Ms. Hanson and Mr. Headley’s relationship, that they were working together.”

  “And he’s left handed!” Owen said with excited satisfaction.

  “We wondered if you would be willing to keep your ears and eyes open in case he slips up,” Detective Rogers said. “If he knew that Ms. Hanson was going to be discovered regarding her sabotage, she might think of implicating him.”

  Sylvia nodded in understanding. “They seemed to have a very odd relationship,” she commented.

  “Then you’ll do it?” Detective Rogers asked.

  “Certainly,” Sylvia answered.

  “You do understand this is all extremely confidential,” Jon asked her.

  “Yes,” Sylvia said, “of course.”

  “If you start getting some good information,” Detective Josephson said, “we may ask if you would wear a hidden microphone so that we can get the information on tape.”

  Sylvia nodded. While they were talking, Marian had gone to the dining room china cupboard and pulled out some champagne flutes, washed them and brought them in on a tray accompanied by some cheese and crackers.

  “Now for champagne,” Owen said triumphantly.

  He popped the cork and they filled the glasses. Detective Josephson looked at his partner and gave him a knowing wink.

  “How about that!” he said, looking at his watch, “will you look at the time! We’re officially off duty just five minutes ago,” he said. “Thanks!” he said to the offered glass of champagne.

  “To freedom!” Owen toasted.

  Everyone agreed and raised their glasses in a toast. After drinking and nibbling, Sylvia looked questioningly at the detectives.

  Detective Rogers caught her eye and asked, “Yes?”

  “I don’t know if you can tell me or not,” Sylvia began, “but how was Anna killed?” she asked.

  “Strangulation,” Detective Josephson answered for his partner. “Probably she was strangled from behind. They grabbed her around the throat so hard that they broke her neck.”

  “Oh, how awful!” Marian murmured.

  “But, what about the marks on her skin?” Sylvia asked. “What caused those?”

  Detectives Rogers and Jos
ephson looked uncomfortable. Finally Detective Rogers answered, “We don’t know,” he said quietly. “The coroner has never seen anything like it. They wondered if it were some sort of cult thing,” he said.

  Silence hung in the room. Detective Rogers cleared his throat.

  “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said getting up from his chair. His partner followed suit. “We’ll be in touch. Please remember what we discussed does not go beyond this room,” he said seriously.

  Everyone nodded in agreement. The detectives shook everyone’s hand. When they were gone, Marian gave an audible sigh of relief and satisfaction. Jon took her hand.

  “More champagne anyone?” Owen asked.

  They all held out their glasses for refills and settled back to talk.

  “Have you contacted your parents?” Sylvia asked Owen.

  “I left them a message that there were new breaks in the case,” he said. “I can’t even tell them that I’m exonerated yet. The police want to keep it quiet so the killer will slip up somehow.”

  “They were very serious about the confidentiality part,” Jon told them. “It’s good of you to cooperate with them Sylvia.”

  “There was no choice,” she said, moving closer to Owen.

  He looked into her eyes and they smiled at each other.

  Marian drained her glass of champagne. “We should be going,” she said to Sylvia and Owen. She came over to give them each a hug.

  “Thank you,” Owen and Sylvia said to Jon.

  “You’re welcome,” he returned, “but remember, it’s not over yet.”

  Jon opened the door of his car and helped Marian inside.

  “Do you think there is a romance starting to blossom?” Sylvia asked Owen again.

  “Possibly,” he said, as they watched the car go down the road, “Possibly” as he turned to give Sylvia a long, passionate kiss.

  They sat on the couch finishing the bottled of champagne and talking about what was required of Sylvia with Headley. Owen was a little worried, but Sylvia felt better, knowing that the police were keeping an eye on her. “Anyway,” she said, “I don’t think he’s the murderer. Granted, he’s a creep and he had motive, but I don’t think he killed Anna.”