Muohta gives a mournful howl as we drive straight past his home.It gives me such a fright.
“For fuck’s sake, Mu!Show a little compassion for my nerves.”I can’t help glancing into the backseat as if I expect a corpse’s death mask to be sitting next to the furry Samoyed.
I would be lying if I didn’t admit I was spooked.Turning onto the first lane I come to, I hope to get more answers here.
Stables and barns line the twisting lane, and as I approach the main house, I see animal stalls.The forest has been cut back and tamed.Neat bales of hay peak out of storage sheds.
Ben Magoo is in front of his house running some kind of wood chopping machine.He raises his hand to his cap as he sees my car.The log splitting machine whirrs and shakes before spitting out four quarter rounds of firewood.They topple over and land on the ground as Ben cuts the power.
“Good morning.”I make sure to leave Muohta in the car.“I came by to say hi.”
Jerking his chin towards the house, Ben is a bit more welcoming than Jerry.“You can bring the dog in.God knows it’s capable of opening the door and menacing the cattle if it gets bored in there.”
Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Muohta prances inside with me.Such a sweet little fluffball looking like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.
The Magoo house is homely, with rugs covering the burnished floors and polished bronze ornaments on the shelves.The furniture in the living room is carved wood with puffy velveteen cushion upholstery.The layout is almost the same as Tempest’s house, only without the elevated porch because the land is flat.
“Coffee?”Ben shuffles into the kitchen.
“Any beverage is good.Thank you, Ben.”I get straight to the point.“I can’t help noticing you have only two rooms upstairs.The same as the Ahernes.Did Tempest sleep in one room and her parents in the other?”
“Ah-yup, I guess.That Laura, she didn’t stick around long enough to leave much of an impression.How would that woman be related to you again?”
Ooh.Granny Laura did not make any friends on Landslide, I’ll be bound.
“My mom was Tempest’s half-sister from Laura’s second marriage.”
A grunt as Ben pours boiling water into two mugs.Banging a sugar bowl and milk jug onto a tray, he brings it into the living room.I’m no coffee snob, so the powdered granular coffee is very welcome.
Taking a sip from his mug, Ben settles into a high-back chair.
“Tempest was a few years older than me, but I remember her fondly.”
“Thank you, Ben.That means a lot.”Tapping the map Ben made for me what seems a lifetime ago but was really only a little more than a week, I get to the point.
“I went over to introduce myself to Mr.Steele.I’ve been so busy cleaning the inn, I was a bit neglectful getting to know my neighbors.He’s a widower, too?”
Ben nods.
Encouraged by his helpfulness, I forge ahead.“And if I were to visit the”—I check the name on the paper that Celia wrote down for me—“the Elliots and the Farmers, would I find any females to chat with there?”Giving a nervous laugh, I try explaining.“It looks like I’m going to have to get the chalet inn ready for the summer tourists this winter if I don’t manage to sell the property, and I can’t always be pestering Celia when I’m hungry for some feminine conversation.”
The sigh that comes out of Ben blows the steam off his coffee.
“Miz Clara Elliot is poorly, but they won’t move away from the creek water.It plays on her lungs.And Miz Betty Farmer moved to live with her daughter Linda in Winnipeg, so only Mickey Farmer stays here with his dad Jake.”Ben comes right out and says what I’m thinking.“The air in Landslide doesn’t agree with some folks.”
I must know more.“Oh, I don’t like the sound of that.But what about Celia?She seems to be doing fine.”
Another long sigh.“Ay-uh, I guess, but she was sick almost to death when she first came to live here.Nearly died a few times, from what I hear.But Celia seemed to get better once she hit middle-age.”
I think Ben is finished, but I’m way off mark.
“And here’s the kicker.”Leaning forward, he puts his empty mug back on the tray on the small end table.“Celia was sickly, but she was happy about it.It was the darndest thing I ever saw.Come to think about it, Clara Elliot has no complaints about her illness, either—says it’s not so bad now that she’s a pensioner.”
I’m intrigued.“What was it?Malaria?Some waterborne disease?”
Ben shrugs.“A summer breeze could have knocked her over like a feather, she was so peaky, but Celia couldn’t give a hoot.Nor did Harry, mind you.He would walk around with quite a strut in his step.Said to any man who would listen that the illness made his wife horny as all hell, if you pardon my language.”
A stillness settles over us as I think of a way to phrase my question.But Ben isn't finished yet.
