FicWad

Prologue

Eileen stuck her head out of the red church door to speculate on the weather; the sun shone on. Birds of different colors were pecking the snow for seeds, worms, or bugs. Her blue bridesmaid’s dress caught on the doorknob and she backed up to disengage the skirt. “It’s still snowing; it’s April and it’s snowing!” she exclaimed dismally to the other bridesmaids.
“Come in before your blond hair starts to curl,” said Julie. She was dressed in a maroon gown with a white tulle overlay, the other beige with the white tulle overlay. The empire top was satin. Each girl carried dyed roses, dyed specifically to match their dresses and shoes. Eileen was blond with blue eyes, Julie, brunette and brown eyes, Emily with black hair and blue eyes. Quite a bevy of lovely ladies.
“When is Judy coming down?” asked Julie.
Emily laughed, “This is not the day for Judy to be fashionably late. Besides, she was almost ready when I came down. Ross will be champing at the bit to get this over with.” They peered in the door and saw three men dressed in tuxedos tucking their shirts into their cummerbunds or fingering their tight collars. Waiting nervously for the bridesmaids and bride to come down the aisle. The flower girl was in place with her white flowered dress and basket of rose petals. The ring bearer wore a miniature tuxedo; he was throwing his baseball up and down, up and down, his glove on his left hand where the pillow should be.
The guests were shifting in their uncomfortable chairs, waiting for the wedding march to begin. The soloist who was to sing “O Promise Me” was leaning on the piano making eyes at the organist who was playing elevator music softly for background noise.
Eileen leaned inside the door and saw her parents fidgeting in their seats. She heard a rustling and saw the bride, Judy, on her father’s arm, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“I tried to calm her down, but she won’t stop crying. She’s so nervous,” explained Judy’s father, Max.
In the meantime, Judy’s mother Lucy left her seat in the front and came back to the narthex. “Where’s my baby? What’s the problem?” she whispered. Seeing her mother, Judy broke down again. “There, there, Ross is up there waiting for you. It will be over in 15 minutes, I know you’re nervous. Ladies line up and we’ll get this started.”
The three bridesmaids got in line as they had practiced with the flower girl in the lead followed by the ring bearer. He had to be persuaded to put down the ball glove and pick up the pillow. The rings were taped to the pillow and he kept picking at the tape. Eileen bit her lip nervously. She could just see the rings rolling around on the floor and everyone scrambling for them. Mendelssohn’s Wedding March began. The flower girl started down the aisle, she took a step and threw some rose petals, took another step and threw more petals. The bridesmaids followed along, Judy and her father bringing up the rear.
The minister began speaking and Eileen was lost in thought. She heard the soloist sing, and the minister ask them if they promised to love, honor, and cherish as long as they both should live. Then they were kissing and the minister announced Mr. and Mrs. Ross Duchamps. Suddenly, Judy was radiant and smiling in her beaded satin gown. Pomp and Circumstance played as they recessed to the rear. They stood in the reception line for what seemed hours, shaking hands and hugging guests. Eileen handed Judy her bouquet and they went downstairs to the social hall for the reception.
The dances were danced, the cake eaten, the bouquet thrown and before they knew it, the bride and groom had taken off leaving behind the dirty dishes and tired guests. Eileen moved from table to table picking up dishes of half-eaten cake, half drunk punch glasses, and dirty silverware. Judy’s mother had wrapped a dishtowel around her middle like an apron and was scraping dishes and washing the eating utensils. The two bridesmaids were wrapping up pieces of the wedding cake and giving them away. Finally, everyone was gone, the chairs and tables re-arranged, the presents gathered up and loaded in the Weston’s car. The snow had turned to rain and it was slushy when Eileen drove back to their apartment alone. She closed the door and leaned against it, tired and happy. Well, happy except recalling the conversation she and her mother had had about when was she going to find the right man and settle down? Grandchildren! She was beginning to hate the sound of that word...

Tracy Solomon fingered her hoop earring nervously and twisted a tendril of brown hair as she spoke to her boyfriend. Out of the corner of her brown eyes, she noticed her boss approaching her desk. Knowing his dislike for personal phone calls during working hours, she whispered, “I have to go now. I’ll see you later. I love you.”
Quickly hanging up, Tracy began furiously making notes, a pretense, so it would appear she was having a business call.
Coming around the right side of her desk, he extended his hand to her and with a smile said, “Come with me, we’re going for a walk in the sunshine.” It was a soft spring day where the leaves were beginning to unfurl and the birds were chirping. Tracy took the extended hand and walked across the office and out of the back door. Off the deck, she was surprised to find a formal garden. Tracy relaxed; she wasn’t going to be fired after all. They stopped to discuss bushes, flowers, trees and symmetry of the gardens. Following a path, he guided her into the woods about ¼ of a mile. A guesthouse came into view, a charming gingerbread-like house painted white with green trim. The gardens were being attended by a young Hispanic groundskeeper who waved at the blue outfit walking by. The man in the blue outfit waved back.
He stopped by the window box filled with multicolored petunias and lifted one corner. A mud daubers’ nest was in the corner of the porch and bees were buzzing around it. Watching out for the gardener, he pulled out a key and threw open the door. “Welcome to my home,” he began.
“May I look around outside first?” Tracy requested, drinking in the beauty.
“Certainly, but the property line is right behind the house; don’t go beyond there” he replied indulgently. “Take your time, we have all afternoon.”
“This is wonderful, and so secluded. You have so much privacy back here,” she exclaimed seating herself in one of the white Adirondack chairs on the porch. “This is your own little slice of heaven.”
“Yes it is, isn’t it? Did I tell you only my father and I know about this place?” her boss murmured. He extended his hand again and ushered her inside.
As Tracy walked around admiring the layout, the man in blue, unknotted his tie and loosened his collar. He simply looked like he was relaxing in the comfort of his home.
“I have some paintings upstairs I think you’ll like to see,” he added.
Tracy’s brain slowly caught on. A frown creased her forehead. He brought me up here to soften me up and make a pass at me. I’ve dealt with his kind before. I know how to give him the brush off. A smile played on her lips. “Sir, I am sorry but I have a boyfriend. Not that I’m not honored,” she spoke arching her eyebrows, “but we’re planning to be married. I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix business and pleasure. It causes problems in the workplace. I do have to leave for my other job soon,” she reminded him, looking down at her wristwatch.
“All right,” he replied as they continued to walk around admiring his paintings some of which looked authentic. She paused to look at a Picasso print; at least she assumed it was a print.
“Let me show you the upstairs,” he suggested, nudging her toward the steps when she didn’t start up at his suggestion. “No one knows about this place except my grandfather and the gardener, perhaps one or two others.” He urged her to go faster.
Her heart pounded and her breath was coming in short gasps. “You don’t think I brought you here just to admire my home do you, Tracy? This trip has another purpose,” he intimated, his breath coming hot on her neck. “Which color bedroom do you prefer, blue or yellow?” When she didn’t answer, he went on. “I heard you talking on the phone to your boyfriend and that is a no-no. I heard you say strange things happened up here. Tracy. Now, tell me where they key is, or else,”” he demanded in a low seductive voice.
“Blue,” she stammered. Pulling her brown hair out of the way, he flipped his necktie over her head and around her neck, expertly knotting it in a slip not. Now terrified, she turned around, eyes bulging. “Blue, I like blue, and I’ll sleep with you, if that’s what you want, and I won’t say anything to my boyfriend, but I don’t know anything about a key,” she tried to stammer. “What does the key fit?” Tracy was terrified. Now she knew what a trapped fox felt like when it was cornered.
“Too late,” the man in the blue replied. “Too late. If you won’t tell me where the key is, then I have to kill you in the blue bedroom.”
“But I don’t know what key you’re talking about!” Tracy moaned, waving her hands in frustration and digging her heels into the carpet.
He opened the door and pushed her through the doorway, smiling at what she saw. Two skeletons were propped up with pillows, covered up, heads turned as if in conversation. The light blue walls were accented with darker blue furnishings. Pulling the knot tighter with his sinewy strength, she struggled against his hard chest and slumped to the floor, falling on her knees on the expensive blue carpeting, eyes bulging, face turning red, she silently screamed. As she breathed her last breath, a single drop of blood ran from her nose. Wiping it off with his finger, he proceeded to finish what he had started. He checked her pulse to make sure she was really dead; he was satisfied with his findings.
Carrying her limp body to the bed, he pulled the covers down and laid her beside the other two bodies. Taking her shoes off, he pointed out, “We don’t want to mess the bedclothes, do we now?” Straightening her clothes and smoothing her hair, he covered her up. He stepped back to take in the view. “You ladies all had a secret, and now you can share it with each other. Once rigor mortis begins to set in, I’ll be back to pose your head in a position so you can converse,” he made conversation with Tracy, who could no longer hear him. He plumped the pillow one last time. Eyeing her necklace and earrings, he tried to remove her necklace but it caught in her sweater; he jerked it, breaking the chain. Swearing under his breath, he pocketed the broken links.

Watching his departure with her sightless eyes, he bid her adieu, saluting her jauntily with his fingers extended. Returning the key to its hiding place, he glanced furtively around to make sure everything was in its proper niche. Satisfied, he began his return. On the way down the path, the man stopped to chat with the gardener concerning clipping the dead leaves from the flowering bushes. Pointing to the bushes in question, the gardener noticed blood on his finger. Thanking the gardener and pulling out his handkerchief, he wiped off the blood. “Nosebleed,” he answered continuing on his way. The gardener nodded and walked over to the bushes, not noticing the necklace links that had fallen out of his pocket.
The afternoons’ events already forgotten, the man in blue continued his walk back to work.