Hands of Time: An Elizabeth's Place Mystery

By Mia Capley

Elizabeth’s Place is in danger! Growling, swirling noises are swamping the peaceful nature of her home and Sara McKenzie is struggling to find answers to save her home. Not only is the estate in jeopardy but the entire community of Crawdid could be at risk. Even the highway that surrounds the tiny Southern town is literally sinking into th

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stratton Press
• Release date: Jan 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781643453040

Mia Capley

Author Mia Capley has been an avid writer for most of her life, having decided as an elementary student that reading could take you anywhere as long as the imagination could dream it. A former newspaper and magazine writer and editor, she has authored several history books about her hometown and county. As a mother of three, she often wrote children stories for them, hoping that one day, these too will be published. Mia lives on the coast in Alabama, and except for a small period of time, including her tenure at Ole Miss where she majored in political science and journalism, Mia lived on a farm in Tennessee that has been in the family for generations. Mia loves writing, reading, dogs, and horses but is happiest when enjoying the beach with her husband and playing with her three grandsons Andrew, Grayson, and Ethan.

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Acknowledgments

Even as I write this last installment and prepare to say farewell to characters that I’ve grown to love, I am already focusing on the next adventure in my writing love affair. Something as simple as forming imagination into words and giving it wings is exhilarating. I have proven to myself that I can be writer who lives in the world of my creations at the same time that I handle such normal things as canning pear preserves.

One of the grandest opportunities that I’ve had to experience during the writing of the Elizabeth’s Place series is the profound pride my parents have expressed in my accomplishments. I am exceptionally blessed as my family has walked each step of this journey with me from researching ideas, to helping with publishing avenues, to proofing the manuscripts, to designing and drawing the front cover. Add to that the many copies that they personally have sold, and anyone would declare herself a success!

So a very special thank you to my parents, children, and friends for the hours spent reading the Elizabeth’s Place series. I love you all and bask in the love you have for me.

And to my dedicated husband Micky, thanks for ten incredible years of loving and believing in me and my desire to bring my imaginings to the page. Here’s to another decade filled with love and laughter.

God is so good!

Philippians 1:3

Prologue

The clapboard Victorian house sat among the lush garden in silent salute to the days it had weathered. Some of those days were celebratory while others were draped in the shrouds of mourning. Even today, as the bright sun of summer grew dim in the evening shadows, the structure’s beauty was as breathtaking as when it was first built to house the family that would experience those triumphs and horrors. It stood in reflection and in speculation; it stood as if the hands of time never moved, as if it was an honor to time.

Elizabeth’s Place was built with great love and care by William Alexander Cooper for his bride Elizabeth. A grand three-story Victorian mansion with white clapboard siding and spires like hands raised in prayer, it was said that each piece of wood was brought in by train and each decorative detail crafted by artisans of the day.

The gingerbread work around the front porch was exquisite, and the windows had been set to always reflect the setting sun. Verandas on the first and second stories held memories of enjoyable evenings in the summer and delightful holiday welcomes in December.

William Cooper had designed each nuance of the home. The rounded turret at the left of the house’s structure gave residence to graceful curved windows on two levels that accented the spire while elaborate pointed gables on the third floor finished the masterpiece. Like a gingerbread house in a fairy tale, the wooden shingles of the roof were scalloped as the chimneys towered the frame, enhancing the picturesque stature of the structure.

Even the landscaping was rich in history. The tree line to the front of the home was painted with soaring magnolias and graceful camellias before a tremendous wrought-iron fence and gate emerged from the foliage. Beyond the decorous entryway of yesteryear, ancient trees fanned an almost hidden fountain that towered in competition with nature’s decorations. The massive oaks, maples, and magnolias stood guard over their lawn in a beauty that was legendary while prickly holly trees of glossy emerald, hanging full of crimson berries at their peak, held sentinel over the walkway to the front door.

Yet for all the grandeur and character, the house warmly felt like an inviting home. Little about the building had changed over the years with the exception of the hands of time.

With the passing of her first owners, Elizabeth’s Place had experienced a bevy of renters, but mostly the grand dame had stood empty of human inhabitants. Only the ghostly memories of gay parties and tinkling merriment filled the home. Then suddenly, everything had changed. These days, Elizabeth’s Place was once again filled with laughter and happiness.

Her newest mistress, Sara McKenzie, had come to Crawdad with the thought of a short visit to recuperate from the blow of her father’s death, but it had only taken a few days for the house to wrap her arms around Sara and become an old friend, her heart’s home.

So it was that not many days passed before Sara had alerted her attorney to rent the home farther north that she had shared with her late parents as she had no immediate plans of returning there in the near future. Then she’d added her own touches to the beautiful home, unpacked her treasures to accent the many incredible antiques the house already held, and changed her personal stationery and mailing address to read ‘Elizabeth’s Place of Crawdad.’

That wasn’t to say that Sara’s life at Elizabeth’s Place had been uneventful since moving lock, stock, and barrel into the beautiful manse, for she had experienced her share of bumps and bruises along the way. She’d found poachers and other would-be thieves in her very own yard, had accidents that forced her to remain hospitalised for days and had more than once been cajoled into withstanding the attentions of some very delightful older gentlemen by the names of Herb, Lem, and Ross. Along the way, she made a good friend in Marian Sanders, Herb’s daughter, and had picked up a boarder named Ashton, who had turned out to be a fair farmhand and perhaps someone she was starting to love.

While Elizabeth’s Place had benefitted from Sara’s inhabitance, Sara had discovered that in her eyes her new home was as near to heaven as she could find on earth. She was happy and content in so many ways.

But it wasn’t the furnishings that were elaborate, the graceful stairs, or rich study of the home that made Elizabeth’s Place so comfortable and homey. The real treasure of the home was the occupant that was there when she arrived and continued to share her sanctuary.

Even when days of melancholy and apprehension darkened her happy parade through life, she could find respite in turning to the most unexpected friend she’d found: William Alexander Cooper, her resident ghost and the original owner of her incredible home. With him, she stoically faced the drama the estate offered, from temperamental neighbors to farming problems to ordinary dinner parties and holiday events.

But the most fun of all came in the hunt for the treasure that was rumoured to be hidden somewhere on the property. While she rarely consciously searched for the proverbial pot at the end of the rainbow, Sara McKenzie was always open to a challenge. With William to lead the way, she was destined to succeed.

Chapter 1

The sun twinkled off the hooks holding the railings around the ring as Sara McKenzie patiently guided her student and friend, Marian Carblo Sanders, in her horseback riding lessons. Though Marian, now nearing her sixty-first birthday, had been born in the country, she had never taken the time nor had the opportunity to learn to ride. So knowing a birthday was coming closer with each passing day, she had started her version of a bucket list, things she wanted to do in life. At the top was listed in bold letters ‘learn to ride and jump.’

‘Give him his head. You’re a little tight on the reins,’ Sara, who had immediately volunteered to give the lessons, instructed her rider. ‘That’s it. He knows the way around the ring, but you still have to guide him where you want him to go. You are the one in charge.’

Marian said nothing. Her face was white with fear, and every muscle was tensed as she sat in the saddle with a death grip. Sara knew she should have started her riding in a western saddle, but she knew that Marian would have used the saddle horn to hold herself on the horse. Instead, Sara wanted Marian to feel the horse under her and be comfortable in the seat, learning to grip with her knees rather than hanging on with her hands.

‘Loosen up a bit and have fun,’ she said. ‘Are you having fun, Marian?’

‘N-o-o-o-! I’m scared to death.’

‘What are you afraid of? If you fall off, Shadow will only stop and look at you. He won’t kick or buck or step on you like in those Westerns you watch. And it’s not that far to the ground, so you won’t break anything if you fall.’

Under her breath, Sara muttered, ‘Except maybe your pride’ before walking to the horse and giving Marian a big smile of reassurance.

‘I promise not to let anything happen to you. Shadow is the safest, most gentle horse in the world. Now, just relax and hold on. I will walk beside you, and he will follow me. You just get a feel of the movement.’

Marian did as she was told and, gradually, by the third time around the riding arena, was feeling a bit more confident. When Sara stopped, Shadow stopped. When Sara turned to go a different direction in the gravel-based ring, so did Shadow. Marian even dared to take her firm grasp off the saddle long enough to pat him on the neck as they walked.

‘It’s your turn now. Do it by yourself. You can take your time. Just give him a nudge with your knee. He’ll start walking, but you need to hold onto the reins—lightly—and guide him.’

Marian flashed Sara a questioning look, but did as the younger woman told her. She briefly closed her eyes as if in prayer, then lifted the reins and clucked her tongue. Shadow immediately took a step, then another, as Marian’s dreams of riding begin to take shape.

Once she had ridden the ring at a slow pace, she glanced over at Sara and asked when she could go faster. Sara laughed out loud at the childlike look upon Marian’s face where the white, pasty look of fear had been replaced with one of exhilaration.

‘Anytime you’re ready, I’m sure Shadow is. Just bump him up a notch with your heel and hold onto the reins. Remember, you talk to him through the reins, and he listens with the feel that is in his mouth. Be gentle but firm.’

Trepidation only flashed across Marian’s face for a brief second before she nudged Shadow, and together they had a slow jog in the circle. By the time she was back where Sara waited, a huge smile spread from ear to ear.

‘I did it! I did it!’ Marian squealed. ‘That was so much fun! No wonder you ride all the time!’

Sara laughed at the obvious enjoyment that beamed from Marian’s face. She had no doubt that riding would soon become a new hobby for her friend, and she was so glad she could share such a special gift with her.

‘So what can I do now? Can I jump now?’

‘Whoa, cowgirl!’ Sara began. ‘You’ve just gotten a feel of the saddle. Don’t you think you should just enjoy riding for a while? Maybe by next Sunday you’ll feel confident enough to take Shadow in the pasture and ride a while. What do you think?’

‘Sure! Maybe I could come and ride a couple of afternoons this week too.’

‘Sounds fun to me,’ Sara said, patting the tried-and-true steed that wouldn’t hurt a flea. Suddenly, he picked up his back foot to swat at a fly, and Marian gasped in terror.

‘What’s he doing? Why’s he doing that?’ she cried.

Sara couldn’t help but laugh at the brave rider who only moments ago wanted to jump obstacles but was afraid when the horse shifted his weight!

‘I think it’s time to walk him back to the barn. I’ll walk beside you, and we can talk along the way. Just let me get my jacket.’

Sara walked across the ring and picked up her coat with a feeling she was being watched. Though it wasn’t a frightening feeling as it had once been, she still found herself looking around when the feeling crept over her. Too many times in the past she had felt that tingling. On more than one occasion, it had been a warning that someone who wasn’t supposed to be on the property was watching.

She shook the feeling off and hurried after Marian and Shadow. Catching up with them, she asked what the ‘guys’ were up to on this lovely fall afternoon. She referred to Marian’s father, Herb Carblo, and his best pals, Ross Barnett and Lem Stover. They too had jokingly come up with their own bucket lists, but at eighty plus, they were taking things a bit slower than Marian was.

‘Today on the agenda was a ball game. Dad said he’d never really liked football, but that seemed safe enough for him and the boys to do while still getting the heart rates going! I guess Ashton joined them too.’

Marian spoke of Ashton Grayson, a traveler whose car broke down quite a while ago. Sara had invited him to stay at Elizabeth’s Place, the lovely old Victorian home she had inherited from her father, and Ashton had grown to love the house, the farm, and the people of the community of Crawdad. The few inhabitants of the community also thought he had grown to love Sara, but he had never kissed her, and she always cautioned to all who asked that the two were more like siblings than a potential couple.

Still they did very little apart from the other, including farming the land and training new horses that Ashton seemed to have a knack for finding. Thanks to Ashton’s background in computers, Carblo’s Grocery now kept books and inventory at the touch of a finger, saving Marian lots of time when placing orders for groceries or doing the taxes. Herb once said he wished cleaning and mowing was as simple.

Lem and Ashton had become good friends, and now the two men worked Lem’s farm together. Providing much of the hay crop and the corn for the cattle and Elizabeth’s Place’s horses, the duo was always dreaming up new ways to rotate crops and design better planting acres. It didn’t take much to encourage Ashton’s computer skills to whip up new agricultural layouts and even tinker with some thoughts of genetically altered seed growing.

At Sara’s farm, the friends were always designing new flower beds and vegetable gardens. The flowers original to the property had been encouraged to grow minus their weed friends, and new planting of the era were researched and planted when they could be found. Though Elizabeth’s Place had few visitors other than those regulars, the grounds were a showplace for all who gazed at them.

Because Crawdad was, for all practical purposes, the epitome of southern rural forgotten town, few tourists clogged the two-lane highway that took folks from Crawdad to Traceland or Gladesville, the two largest towns in their area. These towns boasted of a post office and a medical clinic, two things that Crawdad didn’t have. Traceland was big enough to have a grocery store and a movie theatre, while Gladesville’s pride and joy was Blugers Hardware and Feed Store.

Life was simple and pleasant for those who lived in the community of Crawdad, unincorporated and happy. Once a week, the newspaper from Traceland was available at the store, several days old, and the traveling preacher made a stop at the Methodist church every third Sunday of the month. If any crime was committed and the bad guy was captured, he’d have to wait in someone’s barn or storm cellar for several hours before an official of the law enforcement could drive to pick him up.

The folks of Crawdad basically lived by the golden rule where neighbors did for others knowing in their own time of need, they’d be repaid with help the same way. Whether it was old man Lemmons’s cows out in the road or Ole Blue, Herb’s cantankerous old truck, with a flat tyre, a neighbor was always on hand to help remedy the situation.

‘So do you think you’ll be sore from riding tomorrow?’ Sara asked Marian as they brushed Shadow and returned him to the pasture with Breeze and Thunder.

‘I might be. These old bones don’t always respond like that they used to, but I’ll be fine. I just can’t believe what I’ve been missing all these years because I was scared to try or too busy working. If you hadn’t had that accident last year and all of us thinking you weren’t gonna make it, well, I guess we’d still just be sitting and grinning!’

Marian referred to an accident that sent Sara careening off the road and into a plowed field when she swerved to avoid Mr Lemmons’s bulls fighting in the road. The catastrophe had sent the bulls running for the hills, but Sara had spent days in a coma in the hospital.

‘Well, I’m sure glad that accident was good for someone.’ Sara laughed. ‘My arm would beg to differ every time it rains, but I’m glad that all of us have a new lease on life!’

The girls, more than thirty years apart by age, linked arms and headed for the house.

‘Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you if you knew someone who I met that other day in Traceland when I went to the post office. What was his name? Something sounding like a day of the week. He was kinda difficult to understand at times when he spoke. And man oh man, could he talk whether he was understood or not!

‘Anyway, he said his father and his uncle once lived around this area before they married and moved to town. He said he knew you and Herb, of course, but wasn’t too familiar with the community layout. I thought Mr Lemmons had lived here forever, but this guy didn’t know of him.’

‘Mr Lemmons has been here since Moses parted the Red Sea, so if he didn’t know him, he’s not from around here,’ Marian said. ‘He could be familiar with me or Dad just from the store. What’d ya say his name was?’

‘I don’t know. It was something that was like Monday or Sunday. It sounded like a day of the week.’

Sara and Marian opened the side door and let themselves into the kitchen. Outside the sun was fading fast, and the temperature was rapidly becoming chilly. The warmth of the kitchen was a welcome homecoming for the ladies.

Sara immediately headed to the stove and put on the kettle for tea. She reached into the refrigerator for cream and lemon, setting them on the table, while Marian, as at home at Elizabeth’s Place as at her own, gathered cup sand saucers and spoons.

‘You say he didn’t speak clearly?’ Marian creased her forehead as she leaned against the sink and watched as Sara added Darjeeling teabags to the pot. ‘The only person who comes to mind—and I haven’t thought of him in years—is Sammy Sunday. His dad was Bill or Will or something like that, but his grandpa was named Sonny Sunday. He had a lisp when he talked, and it always sounded like a snake hissing. He was a varmint to boot—used to have a moonshine still in the woods and loved to snatch chickens from everyone around ’cause he was too lazy to raise his own,’ Marian said aloud as she reminisced.

‘This could be the same family. He was asking the clerk at the post office if there was work available, but he was quickly told to try another place.’ Sara giggled, remembering the conversation. As she grinned in reflection, she poured the tea and grabbed a box of cookies from the counter. She handed a cup to Marian, placed the cookie container in front of her, and then plopped into the chair, her cup in hand.

‘Feels good to sit down inside,’ Marian said. ‘I was getting cold out, but I wouldn’t have let that stop me. Hoo! What fun that Shadow is!’

Laughter filled the kitchen as the skies turned a deeper darkness outside the cozy home. Sara asked if the game-watchers were having dinner together. Marian said she’d baked pizzas for them earlier. She had also popped a big bowl of popcorn and left it on the kitchen counter for them, although she knew only Ashton would eat it. The others always complained that the kernels snuck under their dentures!

Enjoying each other’s company, time passed quickly, and soon Marian declared that she had to hustle home.

‘Four in the morning comes early,’ Marian said as she shrugged into her jacket. ‘I don’t know why Dad and I get up so early, but I guess that’s just the routine. Anyway, I enjoyed my day with you, Sara. Guess I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘Of course you will. I will be by the store at some point.’

With hugs of goodbye, Sara opened the front door to let Marian out closer to the truck parked in the front of the house. As the door swung open, a black object sailed into Sara as she stood on the porch. With a squeak of surprise, Sara stepped backwards into Marian, sending the two of them sprawling in the front entry.

‘What was that?’ Sara blurted. ‘Did you see that? Sorry to step on you. Are you okay?’

‘I don’t know what it was. I didn’t see it, and yes, I’m okay. Take someone a lot heavier than you to hurt my big foot. What did you think it was?’

‘At first I hadn’t a clue, but I now I think it might have been a bat. Why would a bat fly out of the dark at us?’

‘Maybe he was chasing bugs or was attracted to the light. Have you seen bats around here before?’

Sara opened the ornate front door once again before pushing open the squeaky screen door. Cautiously she stepped onto the porch just as lights headed up the drive to the house.

Marian hugged her around the waist and said one last goodbye as the