Barbara Levenson - Mary Magruder Katz 03 - Outrageous October by Barbara Levenson Read Free Book Online Page A

placemat.
    “What a great caretaker the Sterns have. He’s thought of everything to make us feel welcome,” I said to Sam who had begun sniffing the floor for any hidden crumbs of food. “You must be hungry, Sam. Wait here,” I said.
    I returned to the Explorer and began to unload, starting with Sam’s dish and food bag. I filled the dish and led Sam out the back door. Sam ate on the concrete stoop while I sat on the steps leading to a backyard or meadow. It was too dark to see more than a few feet. Then I saw twinkling lights and realized that I was looking out into the valley. I couldn’t wait to see the whole view in the morning.
    After several trips to unload the car, I began to walk through the other rooms on the first floor. There was a bedroom and bath at the end of a long corridor. It had a luggage rack and some fresh towels stacked in the bathroom. I decided this must be the guest room and dropped my suitcase on the rack.
    Back in the kitchen, I unpacked the groceries from the general store. There was a newspaper tucked into one of the bags. The Valley News said its banner. I warmed the soup and unpacked a sandwich. While I dined on the delicious food and drank the dry perfect wine, I thumbed through the paper. There was a calendar of events and places to visit; a hike through a Gorge called the little Grand Canyon, a bird sanctuary, a flea market on Sunday. It all sounded peaceful.
    On the front of the local section a story caught my eye. “Nearing the first anniversary of the murder of a matriarch and still no killer is found. Carolyn Brousseau’s killer still at large.” The story outlined a bizarre murder of a woman in her own home. Lucy said nothing much ever happens up here. She must have missed this.
    My stomach was full. Now I began to feel a little restless, so I whistled for Sam and we began to explore the rest of the house. I thought I’d check out some television, but there wasn’t a TV on the whole first floor. This surprised me since Lucy had kids. Well, good for the Sterns, I thought. They must want the children to enjoy nature without interruptions from cartoons and Play Station.
    There was a telephone on a table in the long hall. I picked up the receiver but it was disconnected. I thought Lucy had told me the land line in the house was operative. I must have misunderstood. I went back in the bedroom and tried my cell phone but all I got was “out of service area.” The peaceful feeling of a few minutes ago receded and I wondered what I would do if there was an emergency and here I was with no phone in a strange house, in a strange place.
    Sam and I went up the steep steps adjacent to the living room. There was another flight of steps behind the kitchen. I though how much fun Lucy’s kids must have hiding and chasing each other from the front stairs to the back. It made me wish I was a kid again.
    There were four bedrooms and two more bathrooms. Everything looked as if the original furnishings of Lucy’s grandmother were in place: flowered wallpaper, patchwork quilts, chenille bedspreads, maple furniture. I was surprised Lucy hadn’t redecorated.
    Inside one of the bedrooms we came to a door with a step in front of it. I tried the door but it was locked. Sam growled a low growl at first and then an excited bark. The hair on his back stood up. He looked exactly like he does when he spies a squirrel in the backyard.
    “Come away Sam. It must lead to an attic or storage room. You probably smell a mouse or something worse like a rat or a possum.”
    I dragged Sam away and down the back steps. The wine and the drive made me sleepy so I quickly unpacked the suitcase, shut the bedroom, door and hit the bed. I pointed to the rug beside the bed but Sam leaped on to the bed and settled down. Just as I dozed off we heard a loud bump. Sam went into full bark mode. We walked back to the kitchen, listened at the back door, and checked the living room. All was quiet, so once again I hit the bed. The