David Handler - The sour cherry surprise

I know you are “over” Des but I also know she once meant the world to you. As a personal favor to me would you please give her a call and find out how she’s doing? Maybe she’ll tell you something about her health that she won’t tell me. And it will give you two a chance to discuss the professor’s murder. Berger and Mitry used to be quite the crime-stopping duo here in Dorset, after all. Your insights into human behavior were always invaluable to her. Not that Des would ever admit that. But it so happens I’ve been around a few years and I know these things.

I do realize that this may be a bit awkward for you. I wouldn’t ask you under any other circumstances. But I love her and I am worried sick about her.

Much love, Aunt Bella p.s. I finally had to let Quirt out before he shredded all of the furniture. He has resumed prowling the island. Eats the dry food I leave out for him. Also the heads of numerous bunny rabbits. Life goes on.

To: Bella Tillis

From: Mitch Berger

Subject: Re: Unhappy Turn of Events

Dear Bella-Really sorry to hear about Richard. I didn’t know him well but from everything Molly told me he seemed like a terrific guy. And I can’t believe what’s happened to her mother. When I first moved out to Big Sister I used to see Carolyn jogging through the Nature Preserve every morning. She‘d always smile and wave to me. I remember that I kept thinking how weird it was for such a beautiful woman to be so friendly to a total stranger. My frame of reference was the city, where someone with her looks would simply stare right through me. You see, I hadn’t figured out yet that Carolyn’s behavior was the norm for Dorset. People smile at you there. Carolyn was part of my initiation to that otherworldly place.

I’ll be sure to send Molly a note at Kimberly’s. It sounds like her aunt’s farm in Maine will be the best thing for her. She needs to get away from that mess. She and Carolyn both.

As to the resident trooper, ahem, where do I begin? For starters, you’ve totally fictionalized our crime-fighting exploits. Des never regarded me as anything more than an amateur goof-ball who kept blundering my way into her business. Really nice attempt at spin on your part, though. Have you thought about a career in politics? Hey, here’s an idea: You could run for the U.S. Congress against Him. The voters need you, Bella. Congress needs you. Think about it.

Also, you’ve conveniently overlooked that she dumped me in a spectacularly heart-stomping fashion. So I will not be reaching out to her. Not about Richard’s murder. Not about the state of her health. She’s probably just dieting so she can fit into a thong bikini so as to please Him. Besides, her hands always shake when she drinks too much coffee. Tell her to drink less coffee. Tell her to eat more. Tell her to… Come to think of it, I don’t care what you tell her.

Bella, I’ve met someone. She’s a dance critic named Cecily Naughton. Cecily just moved here from London and we’ve hit it off big-time. Remember my former editor, Lacy Nickerson? You met her at the hospital in New London that time I got shot in the leg. Anyway, Lacy introduced the two of us. And before you even ask me, the answer is No, Cecily is not one of the chosen people. Though she is anointed. Her grandfather was the earl of somewhere. Not that she takes any of that peerage stuff seriously. She’s a very smart, funny and opinionated woman. Also totally hot. We argue about our work a lot. We laugh a lot. What else can I tell you? Oh, I know-I haven’t seen her since this morning and I already miss her.

Happily, she’s arranged to be in L.A. while I’m out there. I sort of invited her to come, actually. She wants to check out a couple of experimental dance companies up in San Francisco. Then she’s going to fly down to L.A. so we can spend some quality time together. I’m leaving on a flight first thing tomorrow morning. I expect to be at the Four Seasons for about ten days. I’ll have my laptop. Feel free to e-mail me if you need me for any reason.

I’d rather you didn’t say anything to Des about Cecily, if you don’t mind. I simply wanted you to know I’m back on my feet and couldn’t be happier. In fact, I’m practically giddy. Not that it’s love or anything. Love doesn’t just happen overnight. Not in real life, anyway. Only in movies that star Reese Witherspoon.

Seriously, I wouldn’t worry about the master sergeant. She just forgets to eat when she’s wrapped up in her work. She takes her job to heart. Sometimes too much. That’s why she took up drawing. She’ll be fine once she has a piece of graphite stick in her fingers again, which is something she knows perfectly well.

Want to know something? I came to a major realization today. Des and I didn’t bring out the best in each other. We thought we did, but we were wrong. Brandon is the person who she belongs with. And now maybe I’ve found someone who is right for me, too. Things certainly seem to be turning out like they’re supposed to. Who knows, maybe real life is just like the movies. Fade out. Roll closing credits…

Love, Mitch

To: Mitch Berger

From: Bella Tillis

Subject: Re: Re: Unhappy Turn of Events

Dear Mr. Hot Shot New York Movie Critic-I am so pleased that you’ve met someone who you care about. I want nothing more than for you to be happy. I can’t wait to meet your lovely Cecily.

Much love, Aunt Bella p.s. Is Reese Witherspoon the one with the chin? p.p.s. If I ever meet up with Lacy Nickerson again I intend to punch her in the nose.

Carolyn was looking limp but a whole lot better. They’d gotten her into a shower. Her long blond hair was washed. And she was on an intravenous drip to bring her back from her malnourished condition. Her color had improved. So had her mental state. She seemed lucid and calm as she lay there in her bed. No restraints needed. For now, they were keeping her on a mild sedative.

She was in a semiprivate room in Middlesex Hospital, which was a half hour north of Dorset up in Middletown. Her roommate was in surgery, so right now Carolyn had it all to herself-not counting the tanned, weathered woman who was seated by the bed talking softly to her when Des arrived.

Megan Chichester of Blue Hill, Maine, immediately got up out of her chair and stuck out a hand.

“We meet at last,” said Des, her own slim hand disappearing inside Megan’s rough, calloused one.

“I came as fast as I could.” Carolyn’s sister was immediately on the defensive. “Not fast enough, I guess.”

“There’s no way you could have anticipated this. Don’t blame yourself.”

“She’s right, Meggie,” Carolyn said softly. “Please don’t.”

“Thank you both,” Megan responded. “But I know what I know. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.” Megan was several years older than Carolyn. Mid-forties, maybe. Their faces had a similar bone structure. Those same high, terrific cheekbones. Otherwise, the two sisters looked nothing alike. Megan was shorter and stockier, her wavy dark brown hair streaked with silver. She wore a faded chambray shirt with the sleeves rolled up, jeans and work boots.

Des showed Carolyn her smile. “I’ve been sent here by Lieutenant Tedone to ask you a few follow-up questions. If you don’t mind, that is.”

“I don’t mind. It helps to talk.”

“I’d like to stay,” said Megan, hovering over her sister protectively.

“That’s absolutely not a problem.”

Megan sat back down, farmer hands folded in her lap.

Des pulled up another chair and sat, Smokey hat over one knee. The room was on a high floor. She could see the Connecticut River outside the window. “How are you feeling today, Carolyn?”