Sara Mason Mysteries Collection

Chapter 12

The rear door opened to a steep, dimly lit stairwell. Dusty cobwebs canopied overhead. At the top, the doorway leading outside to a rickety, planked walking bridge to the levee road was boarded shut. The windows hadn"t been cleaned in ages and could well have been the original glass installed when the town and buildings were rebuilt in 2015 after the fire. The upper floor smelled musty, like an old house attic. It contained a lot of small rooms big enough for a bed, probably never having been changed from the original floor plan. Many rumors flew in the old days, about Locke having several houses of ill repute.

“With Locke"s history, I wonder what kind of bawdy tales these cubicles might tell if they could speak,” Sara said.

Daphine disappeared through a doorway. Sara followed and watched as she picked through wrapped art leaning together in stand-up bins. She pulled out a large one and gently removed the brown wrapper.

“Oh my!” Sara said after catching her breath. Pain on the face of the haunting image in the picture was clearly evident. Versions of the face in torment rose swiftly up in successive overlays, from a hint of a grave in the lower left corner to the upper right. The facial expression cleared and finally looked at peace as it passed upward into brilliant light.

“That mean you like it?”

“That"s exceptional, Daphine.” Sara reached to turn the picture more toward the light. “Far better than anything Fredrik has on his walls.” She looked closer at the signature. “DEW. For Daphine Ella Whelan, right? Couldn"t Fredrik figure that out?”

“He knows me as Daphine Kuan.” They both laughed. Daphine studied the painting momentarily. “I"m tired of it now. You like?”

Sara couldn"t see herself owning such a painting. “What I want are Delta scenes.” She glanced at the many pieces wrapped and stored. “You are so talented. I always envied you. Did you know that?”

“Me? You envied me?”

“You had something special to do with your life. I became an i***t tour guide for snowbirds who came looking for sun.”

“But the games, Sara. That took brains.”

“Hey, yeah. Computers and me did find one another.”

“I meant to ask,” Daphine said in her straightforward way. “I know you made a bundle off selling the copyrights.” It was only a matter of time till Daphine"s bold and playful curiosity prompted her. “How much?”

Sara rolled her eyes. She was tempted to keep the truth something of a mystery for herself. “A little.”

“Oh, sure. Just enough to scrimp together and buy a mansion.” Sara had never told her about having paid cash for Talbot House.

“Well… a little more.” Sara hesitated, and they stared at one another. Daphine had never told secrets and hadn"t changed. “Low seven figures,” Sara said, clearing her throat.

Daphine caught her breath. Her eyes opened wide. “I"m in the wrong business.”

They enjoyed a hearty girlfriend laugh. Still, Sara did not disclose the programs she was presently creating that could bring her yet another windfall. She didn"t wish to convey wealth to the locals or even friends. People in the Delta were not that well off. While a few landowners got rich, most Delta residents struggled to eke out a living from working the crop cycles. Sara didn"t want to be known as a person who made good and then came home lauding it over others, expecting recognition and special treatment.

She had also endured a difficult lesson from her first business manager in Puerto Rico whom she trusted. He had been a personal friend for years, yet tried to cut in on her profit by demanding a whopping twenty-five percent representing advice contributing to her success. A cease and desist order, and measly buyout of his consulting contract, put an end to his greed and replaced the generous bonus she secretly planned to give. She and she alone came up with the idea for her first two computer games. She alone designed them into existence, having nothing to do with who took phone calls, set up appointments, and kept her books. From now on, Sara would protect herself. She would share neither her ideas nor progress with anyone. Her privacy had nothing to do with how much she loved a best friend.

“I"m not sure what to do with this.” Daphine re-wrapped the painting and then stopped short of squeezing it back into the storage slot. She looked at Sara.

Sara stared back. Could Daphine be thinking the same thing she was thinking?

Daphine finally shoved the painting back into the slot. “I"ve got some new pieces beside the counter that I want you to see before I put them on display.”

As they carefully made their way down the staircase, Sara said, “I wouldn"t have guessed Fredrik to be that strange. He"s wholesome looking, and his mannerisms exhibit a lot of class.”

“They did a big write-up in the local paper about him years ago.”

As far back as Sara remembered, her dad would say if anyone read the Delta Gazette long enough, they would come to better understand life along the river.

Delta GazetteThey reached the first floor, and Daphine closed the door behind them. Street noises out front said the sleepy town was waking.

“Evidently Fredrik sits at the bedside of each and every one of the patients at the hospice as they"re dying. Attentive any hour of the day or night.”

A kid riding a bicycle tossed a newspaper that smacked against the door. Daphine went to retrieve it and came back to lay it on the counter.

“He sounds preoccupied with death,” Sara said. That alone seemed strange.

“The news article painted him as someone who understood it, and who could put patients at ease in their transition.”

“But how could anyone see so much death and not go a little whacko?”