Chapter Five
Zelda,” Mitchell Coe’s gravely low-pitched voice moved through the halls of like a military issued order. “Zelda,” he shouted, repeating the refrain as he paced from one downstairs room to the next in search of his wife. Straight-backed, straight-laced military form exuded from his majestic bearing. He strode like a soldier, bellowed like a soldier, and became more exorcised with his muted anger when his command had not been heard.
No answer in his empty rooms, he slumped into a chair by the hearth. It was too warm in for a fire, but it would have suited his morose temperament. He might have stared into one for an hour, let the wily flames calm his own aroused ones. He was a man of great proportion, not in size so much as stature, with a ruddy complexion, a hard mout
