M. Sellars - In the bleak midwinter

“I didn’t say it was right,” she added. “I just understand the ‘why’.”

“Yeah… I guess I do too.” Changing the subject, he nodded toward her feet. “So… I see you’re wearin’ those stilts again.”

Constance looked down at her shoes and let out a shallow laugh. “Merrie liked them the other day, and I stopped by to see her this morning, so…”

“Yeah, I heard.”

“Martha?”

“Yep.”

“I assumed she would call you.” Constance shrugged. “I guess the dressing up is a carryover from my own childhood-visiting family for the holidays and such. Mom always wanted us to look our best.”

“Sounds familiar.”

“Although, I’ll be honest,” she added. “I was a bit worried about the visit. I wasn’t sure if Martha would even let me in the door, much less in to see Merrie. I was a little surprised that I didn’t meet with any resistance when I arrived. In fact, she was actually very pleasant to me.”

“She was expecting you,” he replied.

“That’s what she said. Did you have anything to do with that?”

“Maybe…” He allowed the word to dangle in the air for a moment.

Constance could sense that there was more to the story. She waited, but when nothing else was forthcoming, it became apparent that he was fishing, so she decided to chum the waters a bit more. “You know, I almost called you first before going over there. I was really expecting somewhat of a repeat of the first meeting, even though this time all I wanted to do was see how she was doing. I had honestly figured Merrie wouldn’t even remember me, since everything seems to reset for her.”

Based on his response, she had apparently used the correct bait.

“She did though, didn’t she,” Skip offered the words as a statement, not as a question.

She answered anyway. “Yes. Oddly enough, she did. I was surprised, to say the least.”

“She always does,” he explained. There was something palpable in his tone that made him sound somewhat relieved by her response. “Don’t know why. Everything else is always wiped clean, but she remembers the visits from you Feds. For a while, anyway.”

“A mystery within a mystery within a…” she let her voice trail off.

He nodded.

After a lengthy pause, he cleared his throat and said, “Since we’re being honest, that’s another one of the reasons you didn’t get a very warm reception when you first arrived in town.”

“Oh? After our talk last night, I just assumed it was the way the bureau handled things thirty-five years ago that made me a pariah.”

“Well, that didn’t help, but a lot of the folks who remember that are long gone. You know how protective we are of her,” he explained with a sigh. “Every year it’s been the same. One of you Feds shows up and insists on interviewing her. Then, come Christmas night, after everything is over, and Merrie is Merrie again, she starts talking about Mister Drew, or Mister Keene, or whoever was sent that year. For some unknown reason she expects them to be coming back to visit with her again… She gets up early on December twenty-sixth every year, then just sits there waiting for the entire day.”

“That would explain why she wasn’t surprised to see me this morning,” Constance mused.

“Pretty much. But, you’re the first to actually show up. Until now, every year she’s ended up heartbroken because they don’t come back.”

“She takes it that hard?”

Again he answered with a quiet nod. Then he said, “Not sure why about that either… Takes her awhile to get over it too, and that doesn’t sit well with folks around here, as you’ve discovered.”

“That’s a fact,” she agreed.

“Eventually, that memory fades and she forgets it too. But something tells me she’ll remember you…” Skip gave a thoughtful snort and then shook his head. “You know, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure you’d show up over there today. But like I said last night, I had you pegged as different, so I called Martha and told her to keep an eye out. I admit, I was hoping I’d read you right about that too… Glad to see I did.”

“You could have said something about it last night. Were you testing me?”

“No,” he shrugged. “I think maybe I was testing myself.”

“So do you think you passed?”

“You showed up, so I think maybe I did. I guess we’ll find out,” he replied, then absently brushed at his mustache. “How about you? Did visiting with Merrie answer any lingering questions?”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I don’t really know that I expected it to. Like I said, I just wanted to see for myself that she was okay. We ended up visiting for a while. I even got a fresh manicure.” She held out her hands to display her nails.

“Sounds like Merrie…” Skip replied.

Constance gazed thoughtfully at her nails and then looked back up to the sheriff’s face. “But, even without answers, it made me feel good just to see her. Does that sound odd, Skip?”

Carmichael shook his head. “Nope. Not odd at all. I know you’re a part of her life now, and from what you just said I think maybe she’s become a part of yours too. I realize it sounds sappy, but you’ve been touched by the spirit, Constance.”

“The spirit of Christmas?”

He shrugged. “Of Christmas… Of Merrie… It’s all the same to us around here.”

“You know, I think maybe I understand exactly what you mean.”

He regarded her carefully and then smiled. “Yeah, I think maybe you do. You’re good people, Constance.”

“Thanks. You are too, Skip.”

“Ya’know, I’ve never said this to any of you Feds before, but then, none of the others ever gave me a chance…” He paused and once again combed his fingers through the brush on his lip for a second. “Do me a favor, Constance: don’t let ‘em send anyone else to Hulis on this case.”

She sighed. “I’m not sure I can stop them.”

“Maybe you can. I guess it all depends on what you put in that report of yours.”

“Something tells me it won’t make any difference.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed. “But sending an endless parade of Feds up here isn’t going to bring Merrie any peace. That’s what she really needs. Once that happens, maybe she can move on… Hell, maybe Rebecca and Hulis can too.”

“Maybe so…” Constance smiled, then gave him a nod. “I’ll promise you this much, Skip: I’ll come back. You can count on it. If the bureau wants to send someone anyway, I’ll make sure it’s me.”

“You know I’ll hold you to that.”

“Yes, I do. Don’t worry. I think I have some pull that the other agents don’t.”

“Do tell…”

“I would if I could.”

“Well, I tell myself this every year,” he grunted. “Guess I’ll tell you too… Let’s hope next Christmas you’re just here to visit and have a cup of egg nog.”

“I’d like that.”

“I’m sure Merrie would too.”

12:24 P.M. – December 26, 2010

College Gas ‘n Go

BR 61 South – Canton, Missouri

Constance tore a fresh paper towel from the dispenser and dried her hands. This was the second gas station she had visited in the past ten minutes. At the first stop, she had walked into the unisex facilities and then immediately turned and walked back out. If she was going to die prematurely, she had already decided that it wasn’t going to be courtesy of a toilet seat that hadn’t been cleaned since before she was born.

Her heels clicked sharply on the tile as she stepped over to the door, then used the damp paper towel to grasp the handle and pull it open. Hooking her foot in front of the door she wadded up the towel and tossed it into the trashcan, actually landing it dead center in the receptacle-unlike some of the other women who had visited recently. Using her elbow she shoved the door the rest of the way open and exited. It’s not that she was germaphobic by any stretch, but she was sure that even this restroom needed a date with some bleach and elbow grease.