Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 3

Ramshorn Pond stretched out before me in its autumnal splendor, gently fluffy clouds drifting across a sky the color of a Civil War silken ball-gown. Enough of the trees clung stubbornly to their foliage to give a dappled vermilion-gold effect to the edge of the water. Matthew's lawn eased down a slope to the banks of the pond. His wooden dock stood empty; the pontoon boat had been pulled out and winterized weeks ago. The water level had been lowered in preparation for the coming season of ice, and I could clearly see where the worn stone steps allowed one, in warmer months, to walk straight into the shallow depths.

I turned from the landscape and moved toward his door. The entrance was to the side of his two-story home, with the back offering a large porch overlooking the pond. I had sat there many happy summer afternoons, watching the hummingbirds flit at the feeders, relaxing after a day kayaking around the edges of the pond. Matthew and Joan offered warm conversation to go with access to their bucolic corner of the world.

The door was pulled open promptly to my knock, and Matthew stepped forward to wrap me in a warm embrace. He was in his late sixties, his blue eyes sharp and attentive within a face that showed the wear of age. A bit taller than me, he stayed in good shape with an active life.

"How are you doing, Morgan?" he asked as he stepped back to draw me in. The corners of his eyes creased in worry as he looked me over. "You look stretched thin."

I nodded, plunking down the hemp bag overflowing with computer gear. "I am not sleeping well," I admitted. "I suppose it is to be expected."

"You take care of yourself," he cautioned. "Come, have a seat."

Joan's voice called out from the kitchen. "Would you like some tea? The herbals I have are mint, chamomile, and raspberry."

"Raspberry would be lovely," I answered, settling down into their fluffy couch. I always enjoyed coming to Matthew and Joan's home. It was comfortable in a New England sort of way, with bulging couches one could sink into, a sturdy wooden table within easy reach, and a décor that spoke of nature and beloved family. And then, of course, there were the large windows which overlooked Ramshorn Pond. The beauty that surrounded them brought solace to my soul.

Joan moved into the room carrying a burgundy mug. "Here you go, my dear," she offered, placing it on a coaster before me. Joan was the perfect match for Matthew – warm, compassionate, with a quick mind and a lively heart. She sat down across from me. "Would you like anything to eat?"

I shook my head. "I just stopped by to drop off some spare parts for Matthew," I deferred. "A few power supplies, two DVD drives, an old graphics card, and a router. I thought he might find them useful for the systems he builds for the seniors."

Matthew nodded with a smile. "Indeed I shall. Your donations are always greatly appreciated."

He paused, giving me space, and I sipped my tea. Usually he swung by my house to pick up the odds and ends I had for him, to save me the drive. He settled down next to Joan, patient, waiting.

I looked down at the warm tea in my hands, watching the tendrils of stream as they drifted up from the dark surface. At last I spoke. "Did you two know him?"

Matthew looked at me with kindness. "Yes, we did," he stated. "He was quite popular at the senior center. Always coming and going with a new story to tell. The folks there have been talking of nothing else since we heard the news yesterday afternoon."

Joan's eyes sparkled. "He was something of a lothario," she added. "The ratio at the senior center is nearly ten to one in favor of the men. John certainly took advantage of those odds, and delighted in flirting with every female within sight." She blushed a soft pink. "Sometimes the main hall was called 'John's harem,' with how warmly he was greeted there."