Heavenly Corners

is a nice sized house with three bedrooms upstairs and a first-floor office where she and now I work on the books for the bookstore. Also, off to the side was a smaller house. It was a single bedroom cabin that my grandpa always used for his fishing buddies when they came to visit. My Aunt Irene lives there now.
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A flashing light caught my eye. It was coming from across the lake near Inga’s house. Someone was walking around the yard with a bright flashlight. The light disappeared, and I watched the lights go on upstairs in Inga’s house. Someone was walking from room to room. Hmm, maybe Mags was checking for burglars. I leaned forward in my chair as I watched someone who looked an awful lot like Douglas close one set of drapes after another. It seemed he ran from room to room.
“How odd,” I mumbled and drank another gulp of wine cooler. My nerves felt steadier, but I couldn’t figure out what in the world Douglas was doing closing all the drapes in the house. Light seeped through them, and every room was lit up. The mansion looked like a lighthouse beacon sitting across the lake. Inga had been frugal, and this was more lights than I saw burning during the Christmas holidays.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw that it was Georgie.
“Hi, I wanted to call you, but I thought Paul might have had you go back to the grill to help close.”
“He would have, but he knew I went to the meeting with you. He’ll be late. Right after I left they had a tour bus stop by, and thirty-eight people ordered burgers, fries, and malts.”
I giggled at the thought of Paul and his teenage cook rushing around without Georgie. She had a way of handling customers and calming down irritated people.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Walk down to your pier and check out Inga’s house. Something weird is going on there. Every room is lit up like someone is scared of the dark.”
Paul and Georgie lived at the top of Highland Street, the highest point in Heavenly Corners. From her second-floor deck, she can see across the tops of the houses and the lake. My view was better since I was closer, but she has a pretty good view of the mansion.
“I’ve been sitting on the pier since I got home. First, someone was walking around the property with a flashlight and then the lights inside started going on. I could tell it was Douglas who was pulling the drapes closed, but I wish I knew why every light is on.” I tapped my fingers on my knee as I spoke to Georgie. It was a nervous habit I had.
Georgie whispered, “Maybe they’re looking for something.”
“You don’t have to whisper, Georgie, no one can hear you.” I smiled. “What could they be looking for?”
“Jewelry, bearer bonds, cash, or maybe a will. Maybe a newer will naming them as beneficiaries of her life insurance or maybe she changed her mind about the property and left it to them instead of the town.”
“That could be, but then they’re her only living relatives. It would make sense she left them something.”
My overly dramatic best friend and sleuth wannabe whispered again, “Maybe they killed her.”
“You watch too much TV, Georgie. Go to bed. Bring me a burger and fries for lunch tomorrow, and we’ll talk.”
“Yeah, okay. Goodnight.” Georgie said, and I could hear the exasperation in her voice.
I shook my head as I thought of what Georgie said. This is Heavenly Corners. Things like that don’t happen here. Do they? Hmm, I mused. The last time we had any violence in town was when old Mr. Finley and equally old Mr. Walters had a border dispute over a tree that sat on their lot line. Neither wanted to take the responsibility of cutting it down, but it was dying from an infestation of army ants. Two old to throw punches, they resorted to shotguns and shot each other with a goodly amount of rock salt. A visit to the E.R. and a ticket from the local police officer with a threat of jail time caused them to reconsider. They split the cost of the tree removal.
I tried to remember the last time, before the tree incident, when we had any other police problems. The memory hit me in the chest like a hot knife.
#######
I tried to push the memories away, but my mind dragged me back to that Friday night ten years ago. I couldn’t stop the hot tears I felt running down my chilled cheeks.
Steve always worked late on Friday nights. I wasn’t overly worried, but we had snow that February day and the news weather reporter said the roads were getting icy. When the doorbell rang, I thought it was a neighbor. I opened the door and stared right into the face of a state trooper.
“Good evening, are you Annlynn Ryan?”
No one ever calls me Annlynn. Something was wrong. I nodded my head.
“I’m sorry ma’am, but there’s been an accident.”
“Steve,” I stammered. “Where is he? I’ll go immediately.”
The trooper took a step inside as I turned my back to find my coat.
“Mrs. Ryan, I’m sorry, but your husband was killed in a head-on collision on the highway a few hours ago.”
I dropped to my knees. I’ll never forget the scream that filled the house. Laci had been around the corner in the living room listening to what the trooper said. She threw herself on me, and we both sobbed. The trooper helped us to our feet and asked if there was someone he could call for me. I mumbled something about my mom, and I needed the phone. I called but wasn’t making any sense. He took the phone from me and explained the situation.
He said, “Your parents are on their way over. Do you need anything else? Are you feeling okay? Do you need any medical attention?”
I remember telling him I was