“Or a maid,” Sadie muttered.
“Let me show you around, dear. Over here’s the bedroom.”
When Irma opened the door. Sadie was shocked by the state of the room. It was pristine, clean, not a thing out of place. Only a fine layer of dust on the double bed, dresser and nightstand. There was a small closet with no doors at the foot of the bed and a rectangular window facing the woods lined the exterior wall.
“Guess he didn’t use this room much,” Irma said needlessly.
“I wonder why.”
“Dunno. Bed here’s more comfortable than that sofa. Don’t make much sense to me.” She puttered over to the closet. “There’s a bin with fresh linens on the shelf. Just drop off all the other laundry to me and I’ll get it done at Ed’s.”
Back in the main part of the cabin, Sadie noticed something in the corner of the living room that she wasn’t expecting. An old grandfather clock. A sinewy cobweb swayed above it, and although the glass in front was missing and there were a few chips in the wood, the clock seemed to be working.
“My mother-in-law’s,” Irma said with a scowl. “Can’t stand the noise myself—even though the damned thing doesn’t go off every hour like it’s supposed to. It won’t bother you, will it?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Good, cause I ain’t moving it.”
Irma showed her the bathroom, just off the kitchen. It boasted an antique clawed tub and a sparkling new toilet that betrayed the rustic simplicity of the rest of the cabin.
“You have to heat the bath water,” Irma said ruefully. “No hot water tank.”
“That’s fine. I’m just thankful there’s a toilet.”
Irma lifted her chin. “I still say, there ain’t nothing better than communing with Mother Nature in a good ol’ outhouse.”
You can keep your outhouse, Sadie thought. And the nature.
“I can’t believe your last tenant left you with this mess.”
Irma chuckled deep in her throat. “Your mess, dear.” She handed Sadie the key to the cabin. “There should be a lantern in every room and oil under the sink. You gonna be all right bringing in your things? I know it’s a long haul.”
“I can handle it.”
“Yes, you’ve had more to cope with.” A frail hand rested on her shoulder. “Like I said, it’s in your eyes, dear.”
Sadie frowned. She’d have to be very careful around Irma.
“There’s a fireplace for cooking and heat,” the old woman continued. “You know how to get a fire going?”
Sadie nodded.
When it came to campfires, she was the queen of sparks. Three years at Girl Guides and a montage of rugged camping trips with her father and brother had taught her well. The few times she and Philip had taken Sam camping, she was the one who always got the campfire going—much to Philip’s chagrin.
Irma paused in the doorway and lit up another cigar. The sweet smoke mixed with the potpourri of offensive odors, masking the stink… slightly.
“Before I leave, Sadie, you got any questions?”
“Just one. How do I store perishable food?”
“There’s an old freezer outside my cabin. You’re welcome to use it. It’s not plugged in, but I pack it with ice every other day. Actually Ed does. And it’s still cold enough at night to keep things mostly frozen. Label your food though, or them men’ll eat it on you. Oh, and there’s a root cellar under that.” She pointed to a worn square rug near a wing chair. “Good for storing vegetables.”
Sadie apprehensively eyed the rug. There was no way on earth that she was going to crawl around in a musty cellar. God only knew what was growing down there.
“Course, you can always use the cooler outside for the small stuff,” Irma added. “I’ll bring you a few things. And if you need anything else, you come see me.”
“I’ll be fine, Irma.”
“I’m sure you will. But these woods can get pretty lonely and quiet. ’Specially for city folk. None of them all night fast food restaurants here. But we don’t got that god-awful traffic either.”
“Speaking of traffic, is my car okay by your cabin?”
“Yeah, just lock it up at night. We don’t get fancy-schmancy vehicles like that here. And you don’t wanna tempt me.” Irma stepped outside and flashed her yellow teeth. “Always wanted to drive a sports car.”
When the woman was gone, Sadie felt strangely bereft. One look at the interior of the cabin made her realize she’d soon be far too busy to feel lonely. With hands on hips, she surveyed the room in dread, her mouth turned down in a scowl.
“Bet you miss your central vac and Swiffer now.”
She found a box of garbage bags under the kitchen sink. The sheets, towels and men’s clothes went into one. The garbage and three occupied mousetraps went into another. When she opened the door half an hour later to toss the bags outside, she discovered a box with cleaning products, a bulky blue flashlight with a sticker that read Infinity Cabin, fuel for the stove, a map and a note from Irma.
Sady,
Here’s some stuff to cleen with. If you need more just holler. The flashlight has new battries. The maps new, shows the root to Hinton and Edson. Hinton’s closer. Best place for grocries is the Sobeys store. Ed’s Pub has got the best liver and onions, fried chicken and fish and chips in town.
P.S. On account of the mess and you cleening it, just pay half of May.
Irma
Almost two hours later, Sadie fell into the armchair, exhausted but satisfied. The interior of the cabin glistened, the reek of decay replaced by a fresh orange scent.
“You can’t stop now, though,” she said with a sigh.
It took two trips to the Mercedes to get the suitcases and duffle bag. She debated on leaving the gun behind in the car, but had visions of Irma hotwiring the Mercedes and taking it for a joyride, police in tow.
The gun box found a home under the double bed.
For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to think of its purpose. She examined the floor, envisioning it splattered with—
Her head snapped up. “Don’t go there.”
She was famished. The only thing she’d eaten all day was a stale donut and coffee from a gas station. She opened a cupboard, inspecting the three cans—two tuna and one kidney bean. Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at the wall above the sink. The floral clock read 6:10. Lots of time to get to town and back.
Securing the cabin door, she trekked through the woods, climbed into the Mercedes and headed for Hinton. Following Irma’s map, she gripped the steering wheel, eyes dead ahead on the narrow gravel road. Thankfully, nobody tried to run her off this time.
She geared down to take a blind corner. The road unexpectedly dipped low, running parallel to the river. As she crossed a rickety wood bridge, she slowed the car to a crawl to admire the view. The river trickled a few feet below, cutting a path through the still-frozen ground, around a bend and out of sight. To her right, a gray roof protruded between the trees.
She squinted. It was her cabin. She was sure of it.
A sudden movement on the opposite bank caught her eye.
A man in a black cowboy hat and knee-length black jacket stepped from the woods. He made his way toward the river, crouched down—to wash his hands, maybe—then stood and stretched leisurely.
She was sure he was the owner of the black truck.
Sarge, Irma had called him.
The man’s head jerked toward the bridge. Toward her. He was too far away to make out his face, but she got the impression he wasn’t smiling. Then he darted off into the bushes.
“Great!” she muttered as she sped away. “He’ll think I’m a nosy neighbor. Oh, wait, Sadie, you are.”