The Demise of Sarah Mae: Murder in the Swamp

By Elaine Waldron

When seventeen-year-old Tanja Simms moves to Louisiana after the loss of her parents, she finds herself not only falling in love with the mysterious man she met on the beach, but she also finds herself mixed up in a little more than she has bargained for.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elaine Waldron
• Release date: Feb 8, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458023810

Elaine Waldron

Elaine Waldron began her career as a novelist with Publish America, publishing her first two books with them. Aside from her novels, she has had numerous short stories published in various magazines and anthologies, such as Amazing Journeys and Trail of Indiscretion, winning best story based on cover art for issue #4. She was a newspaper journalist earlier on in her career, but shortly after leaving the newspaper, she began selling her short stories.Her favorite authors are: L.J. Smith, Stephen King, Stephanie Meyer, Jack Engelhard, and John W. Cassell. She enjoys Shakespeare and her favorite poet is Rainer Maria Rilke, and she mostly reads and listens to his works in German.She is an advocate for preserving our planet, believes in God, and recycles. Loves animals and has two cats.

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The Demise of Sarah Mae:

Murder in the Swamp

Elaine Waldron

Copyright 2007 Sandra Elaine Waldron

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One:

I can’t begin to explain the intense sadness and confusion I felt that first evening after I arrived at Aunt Clara’s in the late summer of 1955. I refer to her this way, though she was my great-aunt, because it took no time at all for me to learn she was Aunt Clara to everyone.

My parents had been suddenly robbed of their lives in a terrible car wreck; something I still found difficulty in coping with, but tried to have an outward, positive attitude. My brother, Bob, eight years my senior, was working his way through medical school in California and didn’t need the added burden of trying to find a place for me in his busy life. So, when Aunt Clara offered her help, Bob wasted not a second in taking her up on her kind offer.

There I was in a strange house with a great aunt I’d heard spoken of many times but had seen only once when small. What was going to happen to me? I had not a clue. I was simply too tired and depressed to even think about it.

I opened the small narrow closet with the worn bamboo door, brushed aside a few cobwebs my nearsighted aunt had failed to notice in her hurried attempt to tidy up the little spare room for my arrival. I knew she had tried because she had let me know right away that she hoped she hadn’t missed anything in cleaning.

I placed my old red denim suitcase in a musty corner. I would unpack later. It was late for my aunt, around nine-thirty, and she had appeared exhausted when I arrived, but in her obvious efforts to cheer me – I could see she was managing her best to hide her fatigue, rushing me out to her quaint kitchen to warm me some beans and cornbread – she didn’t even drop a hint.

I felt scrungie and told her I needed to freshen up before eating and went in the bathroom just off the hall. I washed my face with hot water and combed my hair. I felt a little better. Soon her cane rapped on the bathroom door. Tanja, supper’s hot.

Great! One sec.... I rinsed my face off one more time. There, I said to myself, opening the door to greet Aunt Clara’s wrinkled face and kind eyes.

She squinted up at me with horn-rimmed glasses. Beans is more than hot, honey.

Thank you, Aunt Clara. You really shouldn’t have. It’s late. I could have waited until morning.

Nonsense, child. Nonsense. That were a long ride ya had, and I know’d yer bound ta be famished. She hobbled down the short hall, leading the way, leaning the weight of her right side into her cane, making very little noise. It was as though she was afraid she would offend someone with the tapping. She was my grandfather’s old maid sister, and she had lived alone for seven years.

Though it was fortunate for Bob that I could stay there, I wasn’t so sure about myself, when Aunt Clara wired from the little town of Whisper By and offered to let me live with her while I finished my last year of school. Bob wasn’t going to send me, at first, feeling I was his responsibility. And I thought I was old enough to take care of myself. But he eventually changed his mind, saying he’d given it some serious thought, and he believed it was the best course for the both of us.

Now my great aunt had me on her hands. She sat me down to a small round table, adorned in a yellowed-white cloth and set with age-yellowed china dishes. She’d prepared me a full plate of pinto beans and the cornbread was warm and crumbly, just the way I liked it. She limped over to the refrigerator and dragged out a medium sized orange bowl.

Here, child, some slaw, if you like?

Why thank you, I said, taking the bowl and glancing up at her, wondering how she managed to get around town to shop. Her refrigerator was full. Someone had recently done some shopping. She must have read my thoughts, for she smiled.

Oh, Uncle Ben’s Grocery delivers. Plus I got a few friends from the Methodist Church what drops in from time ta time.

Bet you enjoy that, I said, forking in a bite of the slaw, which was sweet and tart. I decided I liked it and took another bite before starting in on the beans.

She nodded and continued, Used to go regular, maself. Church...that is. Not anymore, too much effert. I get all tuckered out sittin’ in those hard pews.

I know fully what you mean, I said, absentmindedly. And I’m not that old. I realized that wasn’t the most polite thing to say. But she either didn’t hear me or chose to ignore my statement.

Brother Broat pays me a visit from time ta time. Says a prayer with me....Don’t look so down, child, she said surprising me. I guess I looked unhappy. With ya, it might be a sight more easy. Yer young.

I took a bite of the wonderful cornbread, definitely the best I’d had in a long time. Oh...I’m all right, Aunt Clara...really. But I really wasn’t. I was depressed. Very depressed.

Ya sure? She didn’t look nearly as certain as I tried to sound.

I’m sure.

Ya can get inta town most anytime ya like when ya ain’t at school. And ya will be makin’ friends as soon as school starts. Won’t be nigh on till a couple a weeks, though. But ya ken take the bus inta town tomorrow...if’n ya like? Meet some of the town’s folk.

Maybe I will go...in a day or two. Tomorrow, I’ll stay here and visit with you, put my things away and, when I’m through, I might even go for a swim.

She smiled as though relieved. See there, we’re goin’ ta hit if off jest fine. Why I know’d ya was bound ta be a reasonable gal like yer mother...ta poor dear, she said sadly.

The night was sticky-hot and a few mosquitoes managed to filter their way through a hole in the screen into my room. It was much too hot even for a sheet, but the second I dared remove it, those blood-thirsty little vampires came singing around my ears and biting into my shoulders and neck. Suddenly, I couldn’t take it anymore and bolted up in bed. I could hear frogs, sounded like thousands of them, out in the swamp. I went to the window. There was a loose fog hanging low in the marsh, reminding me of an old Lon Chaney movie. I shuddered momentarily. It was like seeing into another world. Then the beauty of the warm night caressed my nerves and quieted me. And I suddenly no longer felt like a werewolf was going to come out of the fog and grab me.

Up higher, there were no clouds. Weird. I thought. But I soon learned that it wasn’t that unusual to have fog in the swamp but clear skies up above. The moon was out big and white. I didn’t see any other houses. But I knew there were some hidden among the cypresses, as I’d seen a few on my taxi ride in. The tall trees were everywhere with their low hanging branches and knees jutting up out of the swamp here and there, their branches covered with long fingers of moss. The dampness wet my nostrils. And I liked the smell. Some might find that strange. But I liked it just the same, the wet, cool smell. I wanted to journey outside, yet I was tired. I thought about it briefly, then was suddenly slipping into my robe and slippers and tiptoeing through my bedroom, down the hall and through the kitchen and on out to the back door.

I hesitated briefly. Then I carefully lifted the latch on the screen, so as not to disturb Aunt Clara, and stepped outside, where smooth flat rocks had been laid for the back walk. A honeysuckle vine laced itself around an old pecan tree there. I had seen it earlier upon my arrival. This was to my right. From the old tree, hung a worn chair swing which squeaked and swayed in the mild breeze. To my left, was the wooded area I had viewed from my bedroom. I ventured around the side of the house, following the rock path. I was surprised to discover it encircled the house.

Once more, I followed the path around the house and ended up in the front yard, where there were two more pecan trees. I crossed the lawn between them. As far as the eye could see in the moonlight, the gravel road stretched straight ahead. But I knew that the bend lay somewhere not too far away. On both sides of the road were trees, mostly willows. Or maybe they appeared to be from all the moss draping from them.

I followed the road for a ways then cut across through a clearing. The next thing I knew I had come to an embankment. Down below was the beach. I was admiring the beauty of the soft moonlight over the rolling waves and I wanted to go down to the water, but I saw no way to get down...and then I was suddenly startled by coughing behind me.

Wouldn’t go down there, Miss. Not at night.

I swung around. There was an old man standing there, looking as though he’d been fishing, cane pole in one hand and a bucket in the other. Who are you? I asked warily.

Might ask ya the same question, he replied gruffly as though irritated by my presence. And in yer night clothes, at that.

I made no apologies for my attire, but I had forgotten that I hadn’t changed. I’m Tanja Simms. Now, your name?

Not related to old Clara Simms, are ya?

Why...yes I am. Do you know her?

Course I do. She does all her shoppin’ with me. Tain’t no place else she ken go.

You own Uncle Ben’s Grocery?

Yup, he answered and then stopped to spit in the grass. Most folk around these here parts call me Uncle Ben. Like yer Aunt Clara is Aunt Clara to everyone. My full name be Benjamin Leroy Hootie.

Glad to meet you, Mr. Benjamin Leroy Hootie, I extended my hand, but he didn’t offer to put his bucket or pole down.

Jest call me Uncle Ben like the rest. Say, yer Aunt Clara know’d yer here?

I felt a bit sheepish. I’m afraid not, sir. I couldn’t sleep. She’d told me the beach wasn’t far. I wanted to see it in the moonlight.

Welp...now ya seen it. So ya’d best be gettin’ on back ta the house, girl.

Soon...promise. Only, how do you get down to the water? I want to go down their first.

Ya’d best wait till daylight. S’not safe out here. ‘Specially fer a young girl the likes a ya....one t’aint familiar with the place.

I said I’d be careful.

Ain’t sayin’ ya won’t. But ya’d better get home before yer aunt discovers ya gone.

I more than promise. Just take my word for it. Please... But first, would you tell me how to get down there? I pointed to the beach.

Stubborn thing, ain’t ya? Come on. It’s this way. Uncle Ben, with cane pole over his shoulder and fish in his bucket, led me down to the left for eight hundred feet or more to where there were steps laid with rock in the embankment. There, young lady...is the way down fer ya. Now, I tell ya to be gettin’ yerself back on home.

I found his short manner displeasing but since he was a friend of my aunt’s, I decided to not argue. Thank you, Uncle Ben, I said and turned and ran back down the road until I was out of his view. Or hoped I was. I waited impatiently until I thought he surely had to be gone, and then trekked back to the spot he had shown me. I glanced around. I seemed to be alone. I skipped quickly down the rock steps and on to the soft sand, crossed over to the edge of the water, removed my slippers and let my toes sink down into the warm sand, while the water rolled past my ankles. Better, I thought...Much better. The water felt more than good. My heels sank in deeper. I wriggled my toes and my feet slipped down to where the sand was around my ankles. I had to pull hard to free myself from the suction. My curiosity satisfied momentarily, I turned to head back home.

Oh! I was totally startled. I hadn’t seen or heard anyone coming. I didn’t know anyone was here. A tall, slender man with thick blond hair, bangs dancing in the breeze, stood in front of me. He had on jeans, a light colored sweatshirt and a dark, thin jacket that billowed with the slight wind. He, too, was barefoot.

Hello, he said softly in a deep but very pleasant voice. Hope I didn’t frighten you too much?

Just half to death, I breathed. I relaxed a little. He had a very pleasant smile.

He turned his stare to the water. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?

Yes...Yes, I agreed, looking too.

We faced one another again. Can’t recall ever seeing you before. Have I?

No you haven’t. I just arrived earlier this evening.

Visiting? Or, are you thinking of staying for a spell?

Well...looks like I’m going to live here. I went on and quickly explained my predicament and how Aunt Clara had been kind enough to take me in.

I am sorry about your parents, he said. But I am glad you’re here. It does get lonesome around here. Maybe I’ll see you around again. He looked hopeful as he spoke.

Yes. I nodded. I think that would be nice.

He smiled broader and his mouth curved up in the right corner. I found it most attractive.

What’s your name?

Tanja...Tanja Simms.

Hummm...Tanja, he said thoughtfully. A lovely name. Don’t believe I’ve heard that one before.

My mother wanted me to have a unique name, I guess. Anyway, that was her excuse – What’s your name?

That would be Gordon.

Nice...I like that. Gordon...?

He hesitated, as though not wanting to tell me his last name.

Not fair, I said. I told you my last name. Now, you have to tell me yours.

He smiled again, apologetically. He seemed to be struggling with the decision to divulge his sir name.

Well? I am waiting.

Okay...I shouldn’t even be talking to you....Don’t take me wrong. But I saw you and my curiosity was aroused. But you seem nice, like some one I can trust. I hope I can. Promise not to tell anyone you’ve seen me?

Promise, Gordon. I couldn’t imagine what his reason for secrecy was. Guess I should have been more cautious, but that is one of the drawbacks of being young. Oftentimes, we’re too trusting. And I liked him...a lot. Did you slip away, too? I asked with a grin.

He reflected my grin. You might say that.

Oh?

But he offered no explanation. I am serious, he continued. I don’t want you to so much as hint to anyone that you’ve seen me.

If you are that adamant about it, why did you let me see you in the first place?

Like I said – My curiosity was aroused. And it gets lonesome around here. He looked down at his bare feet and then back up at me. Wellington is my last name.

Gordon Wellington, I am pleased to know you. I extended my hand and he took it. His grip was firm and warm. My mother had always told me you could tell a lot about someone by their handshake. By his, I felt he was warm and sincere, trustworthy. He released my hand. We shared unsure smiles. I hate to run, I said, but if my Aunt Clara should wake and find me gone...she’ll panic. I don’t want to do that to her."

"I understand, Tanja. Hope I see