Seven Down

-Sara Michaels-

The walls are imploding with me inside. A fresh bit of cold air washes across my face, and I rush to the clear night sky.

-Thad Powers-

I survey the room and notice a second glass ring on the table. I guess He might have made them both, but that's not what my gut tells me. I move toward the door and get a better look at the kitchenette. I look at the shelves; there are no doors on the cabinets. They are lined in lace doilies that gently spill over there borders. It is a simple design made for easy access and ambiance. There seems to be four of everything; four plates, four bowls, and where the glasses rest, I see three. Two turned down and the third facing up, it is covered in water spots. Clearly the maid did not wash that one. The fourth glass rests beside the dead man. I cannot shake the notion the spotted glass should set with it. Through the open door, I see Sara standing by the taxi; the wind ruffles her hair. Her arms are swathed tight around her shoulders, she trembles, swaying in a hypnotic motion, and I head that way. I feel like a deer about to be spattered by a semi as yet another police vehicle heads up the lane.

-Lieutenant Alain Sy-

I see the night GN has quartered off the area. Awe and the do-gooders stand huddled together in the middle of my crime scene. I quickly dismiss them as suspects. The woman must be sweet, Sara. The pretty voice I have spoken with many times. Looking for her runaway husband, and by the sounds of things, he will run no more. I study the man beside her. I wonder who is he? This man that holds a keen gaze and a sharp edge. Yes, I wonder?

-The Crime Scene-

All eyes are on the Lieutenant as he exits his vehicle. His bald head shines even at night. It is plain to see he spends his free time at the gym. His shoulders stretch his blue jacket, and like Spike the bulldog, he squares off, and with angry strides, he heads to the couple. 

 

 

                       

"So, they tell me you flew all the way from Montana, just to trample my crime scene, yes?" Alain says.

 

"Oh-uh, I, well, we, didn't even know. I mean,"

 

"I know you're reeling. Let me handle this, wait here a moment." Thad and the Lieutenant meet somewhere in the middle of the yard. Each aware of the internal assessment that is being tallied by the other. The Lieutenant lifted an eyebrow, and Thad could only wonder what he might be thinking.  

 

"Awe Monsieur, let me introduce myself. I am Lieutenant Alain Sy, Chief Inspector to this case and the first homicide involving Marsha Hoyt."

 

"Marsha!" belted Sara, quickly adding herself to their grouping.

 

 

 

"Yes, I thought you knew?"

"How could I, no one ever told me any different. I assumed the woman was Stephanie."

 

"Yes, we did as well until NCIC made the match, via her fingerprint. Now, I would like the two of you to stand here, while I speak with the taxi driver." This simple order rolled off his tongue in a heavy accent. The two looked dazed as the Lieutenant walked over to the sleek Peugeot. 

"Is this not free France? Will you keep me here all night while you chat away with tourists?" said the curt cabbie.

The inspector waives off the words with the tisk, tisk, motion of his index finger. "Let us talk a moment, and then you may go."

"and what of them?" asks the cabbie pointing to his fare. 

"I believe I can get them to where they need to go. Now, give me a timeline."

Thad laces his fingers into her hand and leads her over to the double swing. Certainly, many a lover has kissed here, but tonight under the halo of flashing lights, there is only silence as they watch Vince's body being carried out of the cottage. Minutes later, the taxi driver peels down the lane and the inspector curses at the dust that fills the air. 

Finally, out of a need to keep her mind busy, Sara looks down at the crossword puzzle. One across is rose and one down rouge. She glances at seven across. It should read noir, but he wrote Nord, and seven down should have been an eight-letter color beginning with 'n', but instead, he had NeufUnUn. Vince had neatly folded the paper into a small section that only displays the puzzle. It had a threefold overlap that tucked into itself. It was filled with French words of color, all except for seven across and down. 

Sarah's head throbs from shock, adrenaline, and grief. She wills her tears to still, lays the paper down, and leans her head on Thad's shoulder to wait. As her hand releases the paper the feel of something shifting inside the folds catches her imagination. She returns her attention to the puzzle, and the mystery that lies within.  

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

Cherrie... your Mysteries are simmering with motives...
like vegetables to be diced and carefully added with bits of
spices. Your characters are colorful. Intrigue has captured my
imagination. gently, Pat

[Cherrie]

I am glad you are still enjoying (or at least hanging in there) I hope to finish the next chapter tomorrow. :)

[Coyote Poetry]

You are amazing dear Cherrie. I enjoyed the story so far and I wanted to know and read more. Thank you dear friend for sharing your amazing work. I did enjoy.
Coyote

[Cherrie]

I hope to write on it some more today, but only time will tell.
I'm truly trilled you were able to read the story through, and thank you for all of your support. I am very grateful.

[Coyote Poetry]

I love your work. I need to finish six stories. I have time to be organize. I will finish one by one. I am following Hemingway advice. Write one project and always end in a good place. You are welcome dear Cherrie.