The Mill River Recluse (19 page)

~~~

By Monday afternoon, Daisy’s kitchen counters were covered in canning jars of all sizes, each filled with her red love potion. Trying to keep her mind from lingering on the news of Mary’s death, she had worked all day to ensure the purity and consistency of the thick liquid, sterilizing her jars and carefully simmering the potion until it was ready. Now that the jars were sealed, all that was left to do was to perform the final magic spell.

As Smudgie watched from a kitchen chair, Daisy cleared a space on the counter between two rows of jars. She moved three candlesticks from her kitchen windowsill, each holding a red tapered candle, into that space. The middle candle was the tallest. Very carefully, Daisy struck a match and lit it first. Then, she touched the wick of each side candle to the center flame so that all three were lit. She stepped back and began chanting.

“Saint Valentine, great Saint of affection, and Venus, goddess of love, Cupid, winged dearie, who foils rejection, come down from the heavens above. I ask you three to come to these flames and bless my crimson potion, with the magic of love--by whatever name, the most important emotion.” Waving her arms in time with her words, Daisy went through the rendition once more. Smudgie stood on the kitchen chair, wagging and yelping.

“Shhh now, Smudgie,” Daisy whispered, scooping up the little dog and sitting down, “we must be very, very quiet. Valentine’s Day is the fourteenth, so we have to wait fourteen minutes for the spell to take hold before we put out the flames.” As the candles flickered, she sat silently in the kitchen, watching the second hand of the clock on the wall gliding past the numbers. Drops of red wax began to slip down each candle. Daisy’s gaze never left the red tapers for more than a few seconds.

She had always been cautious with candles. Her vocation required that she use them from time to time, but since the fire just after Thanksgiving, she had become especially prudent. It still bothered her how everyone in town was convinced that her trailer had caught on fire because she had left a candle burning unattended. She knew better.

It disturbed her even more that no one had taken her seriously when, after the flames had engulfed her mobile home, she had told them of the man she had seen running from her back yard. She had tried to answer the officers’ questions as best she could. No, she had not seen his face--he’d been wearing a black ski mask. She hadn’t any idea as to his height, except that he’d been taller than she. No, she’d never seen a man in a black ski mask lurking around before. No, she didn’t have fire insurance.

In the end, the fire had been ruled an accident for which she’d been blamed. She had managed to escape with Smudgie and a few notebooks containing her handwritten spells, but nothing else. Father O’Brien had offered her a spare room at the parish house until she could make arrangements. For three days, she had wondered what to do. She had no one, except Smudgie, of course. She had no savings to speak of, no home, no hope. All she had was her magic. For three days, she had tried spell after spell, to no avail. But what had happened after those three days had been nothing less than magical.

“Let’s go for a walk, shall we, Daisy?” Father O’Brien had asked her on the fourth day after the fire. “I’m sure Smudgie would like the exercise, and I have a little surprise for you.” They had walked down the street to Daisy’s yard, where the ruins of her burned mobile home were. Or should have been. But on that fourth day, the blackened heap was gone, and a brand new mobile home was waiting in its place.

“Surprise, Daisy,” Father O’Brien had said, producing a pair of keys from a pocket in his robe. “It’s yours. Let’s have a look inside.”

She remembered the shock of it, walking through her new front door for the first time, seeing the beautiful little kitchen in which she now sat. It had been fully furnished, down to a sparkling new set of canning jars in her kitchen cupboards.

“Father,” she had said, “I never knew my magic was this powerful. I mean, I’ve tried for the last three days to conjure up some kind of solution to my situation, but this! This is by far a personal best!”

“Ah, well, Daisy,” Father O’Brien had replied, “I guess none of us ever knows what will appear in our lives from one day to the next.”

Daisy looked up at the clock on her kitchen wall just as the second hand brushed past, completing the fourteenth minute.

“Oops! Up we go, Smudgie, that’s a good boy,” she said, jumping up and setting the dog back on the chair. She wet her fingers under the faucet and pinched out the flame of each candle, leaving the middle candle for last. “There! All ready for delivery! I think I’ll take care of a few orders right now, before it gets dark outside. Looks like a humdinger of a batch, doesn’t it, Smudgie?”

From the chair, Smudgie wagged his approval.

Daisy placed several jars of the red potion in a plastic grocery sack and put on her parka and boots. Her nearest customer, Mrs. Murray, had ordered two jars and lived only a few blocks away.

The Murrays’ home was modest, a beige rancher with a carport and a bay window in the front. Daisy stepped onto the worn welcome mat and rang the doorbell. After a moment, the front door opened. A little girl with huge brown eyes and long pigtails peered up at her.

“Well, hello there, Lindsey. Is your mother home?” Daisy asked, bending down to speak to the child.

The little girl nodded as the door opened wider.

“Watch out, sweetie,” Mrs. Murray said, nudging her daughter behind her leg. “Hello, Daisy. What brings you by?”

“Oh! I’ve got the love potion you ordered, Mrs. Murray. Two jars, right here. Just finished it, I did, and I thought I’d get it to you while it’s still warm.” She pulled two jars of the red liquid from her grocery sack.

Lindsey stared at the jars in Daisy’s hand. “Mom, is it Kool-aid?” she asked, looking up at Mrs. Murray.

“No, sweetie, this is something for grown-ups. You know, you left your dolly in the kitchen. Why don’t you go play with her?” Mrs. Murray said, taking the jars. “Uh, how much do I owe you, Daisy?”

“Eight dollars,” Daisy said, smiling as the little girl retreated back into the house. “You get a discount since you ordered more than one. Your daughter’s awfully cute, by the way. She’s lots bigger than the last time I saw her.”

“Um-hmm, they don’t stay small for long. Excuse me just a minute while I get my purse.” Mrs. Murray backed into the house and closed the front door, leaving Daisy standing on the porch.

A light tapping noise caught her attention. Daisy turned to see Lindsey, clutching a baby doll, smiling and waving to her from the bay window. The little girl darted behind the curtain before peeking out once more.

“Peek-a-boo!” Daisy called as the front door opened again.

“Here you are,” Mrs. Murray said. She leaned out and pressed several bills into Daisy’s hand. “Thanks for coming by!” She followed Daisy’s gaze to the window, half-smiled, and quickly shut the door.

“Thank you for your business,” Daisy called, shoving the bills into her pocket. She looked at the bay window one last time as she turned to leave. Lindsey was still there, peek-a-booing from behind the drapes, when an adult hand abruptly moved her aside and pulled the curtains across the window.

Observing the quiet, closed-up house, Daisy wiped her eyes and lingered a moment longer before continuing her deliveries.

~~~

Leroy was in no mood to go to work, but he had no choice. His head was pounding. The brightness of the new snow hurt his eyes and made his head feel even worse. He was hung over and nicotine-starved. He had run out of cigarettes that morning but hadn’t been able to leave the house to get a new carton for fear of puking in the damned convenience store. Only in the last few hours had he started to feel better, and he stopped for Lucky Strikes on his way to work. Holding another fresh smoke in one hand, he swung his Camaro onto Main Street and stepped on the gas. The car quivered and fishtailed before its snow tires got a good grip on the road. A few blocks past the mobile home park on the west side of town, he spotted a squat hooded figure hauling a sack up the sidewalk. Crazy Daisy, no doubt.

The windshield was fogging up, either because of the smoke or because his heater was broken, he didn’t know which. Wiping at the condensation barely helped. He slowed the Camaro and lowered the windows to let in some fresh air. As he passed Daisy, he craned his neck to see what was in her sack.

“Hello, Officer! Got my famous St. Valentine’s Day love potion here! Only five dollars a jar, or two for eight.” Daisy flashed an artificial smile, pulled out a jar, and waved it at him.

Leroy reminded himself that as an officer of the law, he’d better be civil.

“Naw, thanks,” he said, curling his lip at the ugly reddish smear along the side of her face. He stepped on the gas as Daisy stared after him with a look of dejection. He didn’t give a shit. Like he would ever waste money on that potion crap.

He didn’t need love potion--Claudia’s panties folded neatly in his pants pocket did more than enough for him. He carried that silky black token nearly everywhere. They were even better than the pictures he had secretly taken of her. They were his constant reminder of her, and he thought of her often--how he would approach her, seduce her, make her scream out for him. He would send her the card and then ask her to dinner on Valentine’s Day, where he would call the irresistible Underwood charm into action.

It took all of another thirty seconds to drive through the center of town, up to the police station on the east side. His headache was still fierce but felt as if it might be waning.
Eight hours, only eight hours
, Leroy thought to himself as he drove into the parking lot. He pulled a pack of Lucky Strikes from his new carton and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. At least now he had plenty of cigarettes. And, when his shift ended at eleven, he could swing by Claudia’s house for a little late-night surveillance.

~~~

Having dropped off Rowen at their apartment after school, Kyle was already at the station when Leroy arrived. He heard the rumbling of the old Camaro in the parking lot, then a loud
thump
and a fit of cursing. After a moment, Leroy limped through the station door.

“Hey, you don’t look so good,” Kyle said.

Leroy scowled and headed for the coffee pot. “You care if I make some?” he asked, ignoring Kyle’s comment.

“Go right ahead. What’s with the limp?”

“Tripped and fell on the curb on the way in. Damned thing’s coated in ice. Twisted my ankle.”

“I’ll salt it. Wykowski probably forgot,” said Kyle, heading toward a storage closet. He scooped out a cupful of salt from a bag in the closet and went to scatter it around the entrance to the station. When he returned, the coffee pot was beginning to perk and Leroy was sitting in a desk chair next to it with his eyes closed and legs splayed out in front of him.

“So you had a few too many last night, did you?” Kyle asked. Leroy grunted, half-opened his eyes to glare at Kyle, and shut them again.

Kyle chuckled. He enjoyed those rare occasions when he could annoy Leroy, instead of the other way around. “Did you have company or were you drinking alone?”

Leroy ignored the question.

“Alone again.” Kyle sighed in mock pity. “You know, I heard Daisy Delaine was taking orders for love potion a few days ago. Maybe it’s not too late to get yourself some. Valentine’s Day’s only a week away, you know.”

“I passed her truckin’ a bag of that red goo up the hill on my way in. Crazy ol’ bag already tried to sell me some. But,” Leroy said, straightening up in the chair, “I don’t need any of that shit. And I’ve already got plans for Valentine’s Day, thank you very much.”

“Really?” Kyle said. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I ain’t lying. I’m going to have me a hot date for Valentine’s Day, you just watch.”

“Who?”

Leroy smiled and worked his mouth as if he were savoring something delicious. “Claudia Simon.”

Kyle spun around. “She actually agreed to go out with you for Valentine’s Day?”

“I haven’t asked her yet, but she will. I’ve got it all planned out, see. I’m gonna send her a card and some flowers this week and then take her to the King’s Lodge in Rutland for a fancy Valentine’s Day dinner.”

Kyle didn’t ask what Leroy planned to do about dessert. The look on Leroy’s face told him all he cared to know. “Leroy, man, I gotta tell you, she’s way out of your league. And she’s older than you. I wouldn’t waste any time on her.”

Leroy scowled as he stood up and grabbed the keys to the department’s Jeep Cherokee. “I don’t care how old she is, her hot little ass looks just fine to me. And it won’t be no waste of time,” he said. “I’m going out on patrol for a few hours. Don’t worry none. I’ll be back before your shift ends.”

Kyle couldn’t resist one last dig. “You’re setting yourself up for rejection,” he called as Leroy disappeared out the door. “And you forgot your coffee.”

As the coffee pot sputtered the last of the water into the filter, he sat down at the other desk chair and opened a folder containing incident reports--both of them--from the previous shift. It would take only a few minutes to review and file them. The phone was quiet. His shift would probably end uneventfully.

Kyle poured himself a cup of coffee. It looked like sludge flowing into his cup. “Must’ve used half the can,” he muttered to himself, and this thought was confirmed when he removed the filter and discovered it filled with coffee granules up to the very top. He smiled to himself as he pitched the filter into the trash can. Leroy was a jackass and a moron. Surely Claudia would dismiss any overture he might make toward her. Still, the fact that Leroy couldn’t even brew a decent pot of coffee reassured him in some strange way.

Kyle dumped the contents of his mug and half the pot of coffee down the sink in the restroom and poured more water into the reservoir of the coffee maker. Once diluted, the coffee would probably be tolerable. Kyle sat down again and focused on reading the first incident report. Except for the renewed perking of the coffee maker, the station remained quiet.