Aspen Allegations - A Sutton Massachusetts Mystery

Chapter 6

I heard Jason's truck turning into the driveway as I sorted through my evening email, and a trip came into my heart. All around me were the familiar trappings of my world – the inlaid wood desk that brought me so much joy, the ivory-colored parakeet in her cage to my right, the striped grey cat curled up at my feet. And here was this strange man gently intruding on my world, easing his way into my routine.

He parked alongside my Forester, then gave a look around before heading up to my front door. I pulled it open as he knocked, welcoming him with a smile.

"Nice kayak," he offered by way of greeting. "Do you go out often?"

I nodded, glancing to where it sat in the yard on its rack. "As much as I can." My brows folded of their own accord. "Although Whitinsville closing access to their reservoir this past spring was a bit cruel. I used to love kayaking on the reservoir. The water was peaceful and quiet. No motorboats."

He smiled in understanding. "Still, you have a number of options in the area," he pointed out.

I nodded, gathering up my ski jacket. "Not any more this season," I countered. "The kayak needs to get into the basement before the snow comes down tomorrow."

"I would be happy to lend a hand," he offered.

"After we get through today," I suggested. "First we need to get out to Sares Farms to get a sense of what it is like. If Sam is there, we can see what he has to say."

"Ready when you are."

We piled into his truck and were on our way. We drove for a few minutes in silence before he spoke without turning his eyes from the road. "Do you have a plan?"

I shrugged. "Poke at the bushes and see what emerges," I admitted. "Right now we know little. The more we ask, the more we know, and we can see what shapes form."

He nodded, then glanced at the dashboard. "Do you mind a little music?"

I was intrigued to see what he had in there. "By all means," I offered. "Your car, your rules."

He hesitated for a moment, then reached forward to push a button.

A gentle acoustic guitar began, a folk-Celtic mix, and then a woman's voice rose above it. I blinked in surprise. The lyrics began.

I'm eighteen acres of wild country here

With wild summer roses in my hair -

"That's Neptune's Car," I said in surprise.

He glanced over at that, curiosity in his eyes. "You know them?"

"Certainly," I agreed. "Holly, the singer, she's from Sutton. She's amazing."

"My band played with them a few weeks back," he explained. "We were doing a benefit concert in Worcester, at the Boiler Room."

"You're in a band?" I asked, as Holly's beautiful melodies intertwined with her guitar player's deeper voice.

He nodded, slowing to a stop at the remains of the Blue Jay restaurant. The concrete foundations stared blankly from where the burnt-out husk had been removed. "I play bass guitar for a local band."

A comfortable feeling wrapped me. He was the foundation of the band, the reliable rhythm that eased through and beneath everything they did. It fit perfectly.

"What kind of music do you play?" I asked as we set into motion again.

He shrugged slightly, his eyes flicking to me for a moment in what might have been a nervous gesture. "A blend. Classic rock, modern music, blues. Zeppelin, Adele, Taylor Swift."