in Blog, Serial Fiction 4:22 pm Sunday, September 16th, 2007

“Death On The Breeze”
A Danny Stark Mystery
by James Walling

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7

The next morning, Danny approached a sprawling white farmhouse situated at the top of a tall knoll in the center of a wide field of knee-high grass. He mounted the steps to a wraparound porch and rang the bell.

Leslie Schaller opened the door and stepped back into the foyer so Danny could pass. Two squealing girls ran past their mother and attempted to tackle Danny, managing to cling to his legs as he continued into the house.

“Thanks for coming,” Leslie said coolly, “I was surprised it was you returned my call.”

The home belonged to Leslie’s parents, but neither of them seemed to be around.

“I told them,” said Leslie in a steady voice, referring to the children, “but it hasn’t sunk in yet. I think they’re still waiting for him to come walking through the door.” She pried the younger girl, Jenna, from Danny’s right leg and carried her into the kitchen. Danny tickled a four-year-old Lindsay until she released her death grip on his left shin and allowed herself to be escorted off in pursuit of her elder sister.

“I’ll take ‘em, Les,” said a voice with a distinctly feminine lilt from down the hallway. Danny remembered the voice, and he remembered the woman who went with it. It had been two decades or more since Leslie’s younger and prettier sister, Jillian, had joined the Peace Corps and fallen in love with a wider world.

Many of the visual memories that Danny should have retained from the days before he lost his vision had faded strangely from his mind, but he could still picture Jillian’s slender frame, dark hair, and piercing slate gray eyes perfectly.

“Danny Stark,” said Jillian warmly, as she took the girls in hand and attempted to herd them toward the living room, “long time no see.”

“You’re telling me,” Danny stammered.

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Thoughtless expression, forgive me. I guess you kept your sense of humor, though.”

“As long as you’re playing the straight man,” Danny kidded.

“Anytime, fella,” Jillian said, and then her smile faded as she caught her sister’s eye and turned her attention back to the girls. She shut the door behind her and left the two of them alone to talk.

Leslie sat down at a Formica table and stirred a cup of coffee the way a judge would bang a gavel, calling a session to order. She handed Danny the phony business card Bean had given her the day before as he sat down next to her. He ran his fingertips across the raised embossing and waited for her to speak.

“Who is this kid asking questions about Herb?”

Danny took a moment to consider how much he wanted to say.

“He works for me,” he said, finally. “I asked him to come.”

“Why, Dan? What is all this about insurance? Herb had some policies, but—”

Danny interrupted her and explained the basic idea.

Leslie scratched her wrist aimlessly and stared out the window. “Well,” she said, “I guess it got me to make the call, didn’t it? Anybody else take the bait?”

“Not so far,” he admitted, “but give it some time.”

Leslie set her coffee down suddenly and took Danny’s hand in hers. “Part of me wants to tell you to drop it,” she said, her voice cracking, “so we can start rebuilding our lives. But you wouldn’t do it, would you?”

“Herb was a friend,” Danny answered. “I’d rather have your blessing.”

Something crashed in the other room and the sound of impish giggling echoed into the kitchen. Leslie let go of Danny’s hand and stood.

“I thank you for your trouble, Dan,” she said firmly. “I’ll thank you double if you find out who took my life from me—and why.”

“One head on a platter,” Danny said gently, “coming right up.”

She turned to go and Danny followed her. After kissing the girls, Danny made to leave.

Jillian escorted Danny to the door and followed him down the driveway with its parallel ruts worn into the sea of grass by years of wear and use. They walked in silence all the way down to the side of the highway where Bean sat sleeping in the cab of the truck.

Danny lingered a moment, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon sun.

Jillian stood behind him. “Keep your face always toward the sunshine…” she said softly, quoting Whitman.

Much to her astonishment, Danny finished the line, “…And shadows will fall behind you.”

The wind picked up, and Jillian’s hair whipped about in the rising breeze. “Not much of a social life around here,” she said brazenly.

Danny didn’t miss a beat. “Maybe we oughtta start a book club,” he said.

“Or stage a poetry reading?” she parried.

“Or have dinner together.”

That settled that.

“Mom and Dad will be back tonight to help with Leslie and the girls. I could get away. I haven’t been on a date for one hell of a long time.”

“Nick’s Tavern,” Danny said, pausing for effect, “or my place?”

“That’s a toughie,” she joked. “You can cook can’t you?”

“So I’ve been told.”

She smiled and nodded, forgetting the futility of the gestures.

“Say seven o’clock?” he asked, opening the truck’s passenger door and nudging Bean.

“Deal,” she said as Bean rubbed his eyes and turned the key in the ignition. “You get the groceries,” she said loudly over the noise of the engine, “I’ll bring the Whitman.”