Lie of the Needle(29)
Joe came up behind me, wrapped his arms around me, and I turned and kissed him. Things were progressing nicely until I heard the tiny whine in the back of Jasper’s throat. A bark I might have been able to disregard, but this plaintive plea was impossible to ignore.
With a sigh, I gently disengaged myself from my husband’s embrace and bundled up to brave the elements.
Outside, I gasped at the unforgiving chill and tucked my face inside the collar of my jacket like a turtle. Gray strips of clouds lay across the moon, like someone shining a torch through a mummy’s shroud. Ice-crusted snow on the grass verges crunched underfoot as we hurried down Main Street. Or at least I hurried, trying to keep the dog moving.
When we got to the end of Main Street, I took a right on Grist Mill Road. I’d already walked farther than I wanted to in this weather, but now I was so close to the farm, I had an urge to see it one more time.
What would happen if this land was turned into yet another cookie-cutter development? The wild turkeys, foxes, deer, and other wildlife would all disappear.
“Suppose I should thank you for keeping me fit, Jasper,” I huffed out against the wind. “There’s no way I’d have taken this walk tonight if not for you.”
The names of some of the developments in the surrounding townships gave a hint as to what had come before, like Meadow Farms or Hilltop Forest or Pleasant Woods, except there wasn’t a farm there anymore, and most of the trees were gone. The McMansion had ridden the wave of the real estate boom of the eighties and nineties, and there seemed to be no way to stop the powerful force of development raging through the remaining available land like a voracious combine harvester. It seemed as though the builders always won, and I sucked in a breath of frigid air at the thought of this peaceful expanse of countryside becoming yet another victim.
My face was freezing, and my gloves weren’t doing much to protect my icy fingers. I alternated keeping one hand in my pocket and one holding the leash. Jasper snuffled in the undergrowth by the side of the road, probably catching the scent of a rabbit.
Why had Sheepville Township done nothing to stem the flow of this destruction? Was there someone on the board, or close to them, who was doing a backstreet deal with the developers and had helped push deals through for Cassell before? Was Fowler accepting bribes to finance his wife’s political campaign?
Was Frank Fowler the rat in the woodpile?
* * *
On Friday, the bitter cold eased up a little, with a forecast of forty degrees later in the day. Early that morning, I walked up to the salvage yard. As I got closer, I caught a glimpse of Cyril’s cat disappearing through the flap into the trailer.
I knocked on the door before I went in, just to be on the safe side, but there was no sign that his owner had returned. I swallowed against a rush of disappointment. I’d have put up with any amount of tongue-lashing to know that Cyril was still around.
The little cat peeked at me from behind the grandfather clock as I filled his food and water bowls. “It’s okay, buddy. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”
He blinked his topaz-colored eyes, but didn’t venture any nearer.
The other end of the trailer served as Cyril’s office, and I hung a CLOSED sign on the door. In some silly way it made me feel better, as if he would be coming back at any minute.
I trudged back up the long potholed driveway to the intersection with Main Street. Seeing as it was Friday, Laura would be managing the shop, but there were no auctions on my schedule because Angus and I were going house hunting with Patsy Elliot and her daughter, Claire. As a first-time home buyer, Patsy had asked us to come along and give the benefit of our experience.
When I arrived in Sheepville, I stopped at the hardware store to pick up some more pet-safe ice melt and a few other necessary items that I couldn’t get in Millbury. Apart from the specialty stores like mine, there was only the post office with a tiny convenience shop attached and the diner. That was it, apart from farm stands in the summer. Residents had to make this five-mile trip for any major shopping. As I walked out, the sun was shining, and the snow was melting in earnest on the salt-encrusted sidewalks.