A Broth of Betrayal

by Connie Archer

  “I doubt anyone knows.” Barry took a sip of his coffee. “Harry didn’t have anybody. We all liked him just fine, but if you asked me who his closest friend was, I couldn’t tell you.”

  “I didn’t really know him at all. We just connected over the demonstration and the lawsuit,” Rod offered. “I’m sure there must have been someone in town he was close to. After all, he lived here his whole life.” He looked around the table. Everyone stared blankly at Rod, realizing the import of his words.

  “That’s just awful,” Marjorie said. “I never really thought much about it, about Harry’s personal life, I mean. If he spent his whole life in Snowflake and was never really close to anyone, I find that very hard to believe. But you men would probably know him better than I.”

  Meg arrived with Rod’s order and buttered croissants with jelly and a pot of tea for the sisters.

  Barry checked his watch. “Sorry to cut this short, but we should go. It’s time.” The men rose from the table. If they had been real soldiers preparing for battle, their expressions couldn’t have been more serious.

  Jack called to Lucky at the counter. “We’ll be back later, my girl—around six bells for sure.”

  Lucky waved to him. Jack would return at three o’clock. “See you then.” The bell rang as the door slammed shut behind the men. Lucky left the counter and moved to the big glass window to watch their progress as they headed toward the Village Green. Several summer tourists stopped to point and stare at the men in their costumes. An older couple asked the three of them to pose for a picture. Hank and Barry struck a pose on either side of Horace while Jack moved out of the frame. Lucky smiled. She had always enjoyed the Reenactment. Not only was it fun for everyone in town, but it attracted tourists and lots of business. She had been looking up Broadway toward the Village Green and hadn’t seen Elias approach from the direction of the Clinic. She turned when she heard the bell over the door jingle.

  “Hey, Lucky.” He stood close to her at the window. “What’s so interesting?”

  She laughed. “Just watching Hank, Barry and Horace ham it up for the tourists. They really look great.”

  Elias followed her back to the counter and grabbed a recently vacated stool. “I’ve promised myself a whole hour for lunch today. What do you say I grab a bite and we walk over to watch the rehearsal?”

  “Love to. I can take a break in a little while. What would you like to eat?”

  “Hmmm. Let me try the cream of asparagus soup and the mushroom feta wrap with an iced tea.”

  “Coming right up.” Lucky placed the order slip on the hatch and Sage grabbed it quickly. She was thankful for one thing—she no longer blushed horribly when Elias was around, or when asked about their relationship. Well, not all the time. She had always been attracted to him, even when she was very young. But now, it was hard to hide the powerful effect he had on her.

  The lunch rush finally died down, and just in time. Lucky slipped into the corridor and hung her apron on a hook inside the closet door. She pulled the elastic out of her hair and brushed it quickly, adding a little touch of lipstick. Always a tomboy, she had had to learn things that came easily to most young women—like using lipstick and a little eye shadow or blush occasionally. She had never had an interest in fashion or makeup, but it seemed that everyone in her life—Elizabeth, Sophie, even Jack—urged her to be a little more aware of her appearance. When she returned to the restaurant, Elias had settled his bill. Only a few customers remained. She leaned over the cash register and told Janie she’d be back in an hour and headed up Broadway with Elias.

  The Village Green was a shifting tableau of controlled chaos. Not everyone was in costume as yet, but volunteers had been sorted into groups—the men playing British soldiers, Hessians, loyalist colonials and Indians were on one side. The townspeople playing militiamen were on the other. Cordelia Rank, using her bullhorn, shouted instructions about movement and blocking to the players who would move onto the Green. She reminded them of the signal for the militiamen to attack the incoming column of troops.

  Vermont’s battles were not as well-known as the celebrations in Concord and Lexington on Patriots’ Day in Massachusetts, but true Vermonters never forgot the part their ancestors had played in the birth of America. Even though the actual battle occurred a few miles from Bennington in what was then and is now New York State, it was still an event in which Vermonters took great pride.

  Lucky stood on tiptoe and spotted Hank and Barry. Barry stood among the Indians and Hank at the other end of the Green with the group that would play militiamen. She couldn’t see her grandfather in the crush of people. Many of the actors milled around in a confused fashion, ignoring Cordelia’s bellowed instructions. Women would also take part, most of them pretending to reload prop rifles and pass ammunition. No one would carry a weapon with a live round, not even blanks, for safety’s sake, but a volunteer with sound equipment would provide the effects of gunfire. Another volunteer would operate a smoke machine.

  Lucky spotted the top of Sophie’s head, as she pushed through the crowd to join them. “Hey, Lucky. Hi, Elias.”

  “Sophie—good to see you. Are you off for the summer?” Elias asked.

  “Part-time. I’m teaching swimming classes up at the Resort, but it’s not a heavy schedule at all. I’m enjoying some free time.” She turned to watch the rehearsal. “I feel sorry for those guys having to wear heavy outfits on such a hot day.” She nodded in the direction of the local actors.

  “Lucky!” Lucky heard her name shouted and saw Rowena’s strawberry blonde head bobbing through the crowd.

  “I think you’re being paged,” Sophie muttered under her breath. “She must know what a pain she is.”

  Lucky was sympathetic to Sophie’s feelings but hoped her animosity didn’t create a scene. Sophie came from a large family—too poor to afford stylish clothing and other accessories that teenagers felt so important. Rowena in her school days had been the leader of a tight clique that looked down their collective noses at those less fortunate. Lucky always stood up for Sophie at school, but Sophie had borne the brunt of that disdain. As Rowena drew near, Sophie indicated an invisible watch on her wrist. “Well, nice seeing you. My! Look at the time.” Sophie ducked through the crowd just as Rowena reached Lucky and Elias.

  “Oh, Lucky, I’m so glad I ran into you.” Rowena’s face was blotchy. She was on the verge of tears.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That developer guy, Rowland. I just saw him go into his trailer on the site, so I thought, hey, maybe I could talk to him. He completely ignored me the other day. So I climbed through the hole in the fence hoping he’d talk to me then and there. He agreed to give me an interview. I explained how the editor wanted to lay the article out. You know, run some old town pictures with the article—kind of a ‘local boy makes good’ theme. After all, Richard Rowland has been so successful, he could probably buy this whole town. But when I told him that, he just clammed right up. He couldn’t get me out of there fast enough—as soon as I mentioned the pictures. He was downright nasty and then he told one of the workmen to throw me out!” Rowena stifled a sob. “Can you imagine? I don’t know what I’m gonna do now. I had my heart set on that article. There’s not much I can say about the skeleton they discovered—not yet anyway, and Nate won’t let me write anything about Harry.”

  “I’m sorry, Rowena. Maybe something better will come up.”

  Lucky spotted Guy Bessette as he peered over the heads of the milling crowd. He pushed his way through several people to join them. Lucky wasn’t surprised. Guy could usually be found somewhere in the vicinity of Rowena, hoping she would notice him. He was dressed in rough homespun pants and coat with a large floppy hat.

  “Hi, Rowena.” Rowena glanced haughtily at him without acknowledging his greeting. Guy’s fascination with Rowena was painfully obvious. Rowena, on her part, was either oblivious or disinterested. Guy’s face fell and Lucky felt terribly embarrassed for him.

 
“Guy, we’re so sorry about Harry. Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay. Thanks, Lucky. I just don’t know what I’m gonna do now. I feel pretty bad. Harry was always good to me, he taught me everything I know about cars. It’s really the only job I’ve ever had.”

  Lucky nodded sympathetically. Rowena rolled her eyes and looked annoyed that she had been interrupted. She turned back to Lucky. “I still have all those old photos of the town and the school. Maybe I could write something about town architecture.”

  Elias nodded in the direction of the construction site. “Let’s just hope that little pile of architecture across the street doesn’t get built at all.”

  “I agree.” Rowena’s face was flushed. “I’m definitely going to join the next demonstration. Here I was trying to be nice to the guy and he throws me out! What a jerk,” she fumed. “I’ll see you later, Lucky. Elias.” She ducked back into the crowd. Guy bobbed and weaved a few times and finally followed in Rowena’s wake.

  “I’m always amazed when all this comes together. You have to hand it to Cordelia, she really gets everyone mobilized,” Lucky observed.

  Elias put his arm around her shoulder. Lucky resisted the urge to kiss him. Not in front of the entire town. She was far too shy for that. “Cordelia lives for this stuff. It’s a good thing we have a famous battle to celebrate, otherwise she’d have to reorganize the DC branch of the DAR and tell the Secretary of the Navy how to run his department more efficiently.”

  Lucky heard her name called again. Edward Embry emerged from a cluster of onlookers. Cicero, on his leash, sat dutifully next to Edward, wagging his tail hopefully. “Lucky! How nice to see you. This is surely a lot more fun than the day of the demonstration.”

  “Hello.” Lucky smiled in return. “Edward, do you know Elias . . .”

  Edward laughed. “I sure do. Everyone does. How are you, Elias? You manage to get a little time off from the Clinic?”

  “Barely. I’m taking a little time, in spite of my patient load.”

  “You’re not volunteering to dress up for the Reenactment?” Lucky asked Edward.

  “No. Please. I love this stuff, but I’m too old to go rolling around on the grass, pretending I’ve just been shot. I only popped over to watch and maybe catch Elizabeth here. Have you seen her around?”

  “No. And I’ve been keeping an eye out for her too.”

  “I didn’t see her in the office earlier. Must have just missed her.” Edward reached down to pat Cicero’s head. Once again, Lucky thought she detected Edward’s affection for and interest in Elizabeth. “Well, nice seeing you both, but I’ve got to get back. I have a pile of complaint letters to read this afternoon.”

  “About the car wash?”

  “Mostly. And perhaps a few others—we’ll see. Should make for a pleasant afternoon,” he replied ruefully. “If you see Elizabeth, tell her I was looking for her,” he said as he moved away through the crowd, Cicero following dutifully.

  Lucky had been more or less scanning the crowd herself since they had arrived, also hoping to spot Elizabeth. She felt a flutter of anxiety. Elias glanced at her.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She smiled up at him quickly. “Nothing.”

  “It must be something.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her toward him. “Out with it.”

  “I’ve been trying to reach Elizabeth. She hasn’t called me back and I’m sure she must have heard about Harry by now.” She smiled apologetically. “And I guess I’ve been hoping I might spot her here.”

  “This time of day, she’s probably at her office. Have you tried there?”

  To her relief, Elias didn’t minimize her anxiety. “It was too early when I called before. But you’re right. I’m being silly. It’s just . . .”

  Elias waited patiently for her to continue.

  “I’ve just had this nervous feeling since yesterday. Can’t put my finger on it. I know it’s silly . . .” Lucky stopped in midsentence.

  “It’s not silly. Cut yourself some slack. You’re probably suffering from a little PTSD yourself. Keep that in mind.” Lucky stiffened at the allusion to her parents’ death only months earlier. Elias felt the change immediately.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “No, you’re right.” Lucky closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re right. I think I’ve been handling everything just fine, but maybe I haven’t. Maybe I’ve just shoved all that fear inside. I’m feeling almost phobic . . . that people can just disappear from your life.”

  “Quite a common reaction after the shock you’ve had.”

  “It was months ago.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It takes a long time. It happens to a lot of people by the way, so don’t beat yourself up. I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t handling your feelings well. I think you are . . . admirably so. But dealing with the sudden death of the people you were closest to in the world . . .” Elias trailed off. “It’s got to be dreadful.”

  “Everyone keeps telling me it gets easier,” she replied uncertainly.

  “It will.” He pulled her closer. “But now—with what happened to Harry . . . no one in town is feeling safe.”

  Chapter 13

  ELIZABETH MASSAGED HER wrists, grateful that Maggie had cut her loose from the chair. Red welts were still visible where the cord had chafed. At least now she could stretch her arms. Her shoulders were cramped with strain and fear. She took a deep breath and rubbed the back of her neck hoping to relieve her headache.

  It had taken what seemed an eternity the night before to undo the thin cord around her ankles. The nerves in her fingers still tingled. When she had tried to stand and reach the tray of food, her right leg had buckled beneath her. She had fallen to the floor but managed to push herself up. When she had finally reached the food, she sat, leaning against the wall, and lifted the tray onto her lap.

  Maggie had fed her a generous serving of vegetables—sweet potato, chard and turnip. She must grow her own food in the summer. Maggie’s behavior was so outside the norm, the thought had occurred to her the food might be poisoned. Elizabeth had carefully scooped a small piece of sweet potato and tasted it. It was warm and delicious. There had been no choice but to eat the food and hope for the best. It was the only way she could regain her strength.

  She looked around the room in which she was a prisoner. A stained and filthy remnant of carpeting covered the concrete floor. The walls had been finished with a sort of wallboard that had long ago been painted green. Ripped and molding rock-and-roll posters were pinned to the walls. Some of the names Elizabeth recognized—groups that were well-known more than twenty years ago. Had this been a room Danny used in his teen years? It was devoid of furniture. Other than the chair she sat on, the sleeping bag that Maggie had left behind and the stained carpeting covering the floor, the room was empty. A narrow window near the ceiling allowed a small amount of dusty light to filter into the room. Boards had been nailed over the window on the exterior of the house, but a space of a few inches showed a gap. Elizabeth was sure it was morning. If only she could reach that window, she might find a way to escape.

  She breathed deeply to stanch the fear that was just under the surface. What had she done to deserve this treatment? She, a middle-aged woman, a retired teacher, she had always led such a careful life. Things like this simply didn’t happen to people like her. She had never been reckless . . . about anything. Yet here she was, the Mayor of Snowflake, locked in a cellar like an unwanted animal. She thought of Charlie, all alone with no food. What if his water ran out? Who would take care of him? Who would miss her? Surely, Lucky would notice she was gone, and Jack, and her nearest neighbors. The people at the town office, her assistant Jessie, and Edward. They would realize something had happened to her. People would look for her, but how would they know where to look? She had told no one where she was headed. So foolish, she thought. So foolish. Elizabeth stifled another sob. No one would ever focus on Maggie Harkins’s house.


  Even more perplexing, she couldn’t imagine what Maggie meant when she said, “He won’t hurt me then.” Who was she referring to? Was someone coercing her or was she delusional? There was no logical reason Maggie should want to keep her prisoner. She had always been kind to her and her son Danny when he was in her classes years ago. Danny was a difficult kid for a woman to raise alone. He had often been the instigator of trouble at school but Elizabeth had never reported him. She had always been convinced that whatever commotion Danny stirred up, he had a good heart. He was mischievous, but never mean.

  She wondered if Maggie would bring more food today. Perhaps if Maggie opened the door she could overpower her and force her way out. She hated to think about hurting another human being, but if Maggie brought food she might leave a real fork that could be used as a weapon. How quickly we descend to the lowest level of human survival, she thought—struggling to keep body and soul together and fighting to be free.

  Chapter 14

  LUCKY REPLACED THE receiver and looked up. Jack was standing in the doorway of the office.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I just tried Elizabeth’s number again. I called her office today and no one answered, and there’s still no answer at her house.”

  “Maybe she’s out for the evening. Even old people sometimes have a life, you know.”

  Lucky did her best to smile in spite of her anxiety. “I haven’t seen her since the day of the demonstration—and that was two days ago. I’m sure she’s heard about Harry but I can’t understand why she hasn’t called us.”

  “You need some cheering up. Can I treat you to an ice cream down the street?”

  “Only if you buy me two scoops.” As far back as she could remember, it was her grandfather who would take the time to treat her to ice cream. Her parents were always busy with the restaurant. A vivid memory flashed before her eyes—her child’s hand grasped by a huge rough paw, and the cold sweetness of two scoops of chocolate ice cream. “I’ll just turn off the lights.”