The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Cora turned off the highway onto a street marked with a DEAD END sign and slowed the car to avoid occasional broken pavement and potholes. What looked like an old farmhouse sat beside a huge new luxury home with an elaborate playhouse in its yard. Cora shook her head as she drove by, wondering how people with young children could pay for such homes, and why they thought they needed that much space. She and Cisco never could have afforded such grand housing when they were raising their children, and wouldn't have needed it after the boys moved out.

At the end of the road was an overgrown area of shrubs and grass which dropped sharply beyond the foliage to a two-lane road. Cora pulled into the driveway of a modest frame ranch home, noting fresh paint on the window frames and a burnt-orange door that accented pale blue clapboards. A shiny brass knocker and kick plate adorned the door, and an assortment of pots on both sides of the entry welcomed visitors. Yellow mums brightened flower borders, and the lawn was well tended. This was a surprise. Bridey must have a lot of energy for an eighty-plus-year-old widow.

Cora almost called off her meeting with Bridey to spend the morning researching spirits; however, Father McGrath hadn't brought the books he promised yet, and she had already changed a number of appointments and didn't want to reschedule Bridey again.

Procrastination was not always a bad thing, Cora believed, but could be a tool. By removing her focus from problems she could see them more objectively when she returned to them. Sometimes they solved themselves in the meantime, saving her any effort at all. Incubation, she called it. Cisco called it rationalizing.

Bridey Boyle, a tiny, energetic woman with surprising bright red hair in a wedge cut, answered the door.

No way that's natural-it's got to be dyed.

After exchanging greetings, Bridey led Cora to her living room and invited her to sit on the sofa. "Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked. "I'd like one myself, and I hate to drink alone," she said, with a chuckle at her little joke.

"I'd love a cup of tea," Cora said, with an answering smile.

Cora glanced around the room while Bridey was in the kitchen. Like everything else she had noticed about Bridey's home, it was neat. The furniture was old but well cared for, the typical heavy blond wood and simple lines of the 1950s. The plush carpet was new, and showed tracks of recent vacuuming. The upholstery was clean but somewhat faded. Fussy knickknacks made the room seem personal and comfortable. On a small round table, centered in front of a picture window, was a professional portrait in a simple wood frame, showing a smiling Bridey and a handsome man of a similar age. It appeared to be fairly recent. The large man had warm blue eyes, a round ruddy face, and a full head of white hair. The picture reminded Cora of her own Irish relatives.

"You have a lovely home," Cora said when Bridey returned. She accepted a cup of tea in a deep red and gold bone china cup and saucer. "Can I set this on the table? What pretty china!"

"Of course you can." Bridey settled herself into a straight-backed chair in front of the window, set her own beverage down on the table, and swept the room with an arm. "This old furniture is hard as nails. It's gotten by all these years, the only real furniture we ever owned, after the hand-me-downs we started off with, that is. Jack was real particular about everything we bought. He wasn't much for shopping, and only wanted to do it once. Everything we bought was intended to last a lifetime."