Previously on My Winter Break: A Murder Mystery…
One chatty dental hygienist. A radio contest with a $1,000 prize. A missing person. A matinee screening of The Revenant. Five cats. And one body.
Will we figure out who the body is? Who the killer is? Did I, in fact, feed the cats?
All will be revealed in this second and final installment of My Winter Break: A Murder Mystery.
Friday, January 15, 2016. Hatfield, Massachusetts. 8:03 P.M.
What a massacre. About fifteen falcons have just been slaughtered by a pack of vicious panthers. Hatfield might never be the same.
Friday, January 22, 2016. South Deerfield, Massachusetts. 10:30 A.M.
I am leaving the dentist’s office with my sister. As we climb into my ’93 Toyota Camry (it’s a pretty sweet ride), the sun is refracted through the windshield in just the right way, casting a rainbow on the dash.
I’m reminded of spirits, of the undead, and wonder if this rainbow is a message. I’m not usually so superstitious, but I’ve just had the dentist visit of a lifetime.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016. Gill, Massachusetts. 3:23 P.M.
I find myself in the middle of nowhere. And I’m running as fast as I can, running for my life. I turn every few minutes to check behind me. So far, so good, but that could change at any minute.
Suddenly I’m blindsided by a piercing pain in my lower legs!
Sunday, January 17, 2016. Gill, Massachusetts. 3:29 P.M.
I’m still mentally processing all of the gore in The Revenant as I push open my mom’s front door. It is unlocked.
I enter our kitchen, and there on the ground, I see five cat food dishes.
But something’s missing.
Saturday, January 23, 2016. Western Massachusetts. 8:32 A.M.
Two crime scene investigators turn down a frozen dirt road. They are investigating the body found by a gang of youths ten days prior. They are tired, cold, and frustrated.
This investigation is beginning to seem like a dead end.
Thursday, January 14, 2016. Bernardston, Massachusetts. 7:12 P.M.
It’s pitch black, a cloudy, starless Western Mass night. My ’93 Camry rolls to a stop in the sleepy town of Bernardston. Bernardston is pretty isolated, and the only thing around is, in classic Massachusetts fashion, a Dunkin Donuts. But it’s closed.
I flick the headlights off. And then I hear a noise. Someone is knocking on my window.
Friday, January 22, 2016. South Deerfield, Massachusetts. 10:35 A.M.
As my sister and I pull out of the dentist’s office parking lot, I explain to her how my dental hygienist relayed to me her entire life story, including the death of her father, the spreading of his ashes, his last words to her (“You should get on match.com.”), her stint on match.com, and her belief that she’s seen his spirit several times in odd tricks-of-the-light.
The rainbow caused by sunlight refracted in the windshield has disappeared, but for a brief moment my mind lingers on spirits and messages from the beyond.
Friday, January 8, 2016. Gill, Massachusetts. 10:11 A.M.
Who could possibly have won the radio contest if not me? There are so few people in the rural heart of Western Mass that my odds were really good.
I listen intently to the radio to see if they put the winner on air. I wonder if they’ll handle being broadcast better than I would have, had I won. Maybe it’ll be someone I know.
The waiting is driving me crazy.
Tuesday, January 5, 2016. Gill, Massachusetts. 3:23 P.M.
The pain in my shins is so intense that I have to stop running, though it’s the last thing I want to do. I come to a halt next to a vacant winter cornfield, snow caked between the rows.
I hate ending workouts before I’ve finished them. But, alas, I find myself with shin splints, and as much as I want to ignore them, I know I no longer can.
Now I’m doomed to the elliptical or the exercise bike. I cringe. For two weeks, the treadmill will be off-limits.
Friday, January 8, 2016. Gill, Massachusetts. 10:35 A.M.
By now I’ve listened to far too many advertisements and U.S. Top 50 Chart songs and I’m beginning to realize that one of two possibilities has occurred. 1) Someone won the radio contest, and they will not announce or reference this winning in any way, nor will the winner be put on air. 2) There was no winner.
Was the radio contest rigged? I ask myself. Perhaps they claim to be giving away the money, but really, they have yet to actually select a winner. Or, someone has won, and that someone wasn’t me.
Who texted WINTER at 10:00 A.M. and found themselves $1,000 richer by 10:15? The world may never know.
Friday, January 15, 2016. Hatfield, Massachusetts. 8:03 P.M.
A pack of falcons was just murdered by vicious panthers. And half of Hatfield was watching. They leave now, disappointed, yes. But they’ll get over it. Some of those falcons were part of their family, but they’ll move on.
Yes, the Hatfield Falcons lost brutally to the Pioneer Valley Panthers. But in basketball, there’s always going to be a loser. Tonight, the Falcons were the loser. And what a tough loss it was.
Now the Falcons are left to lick their wounds and regroup.
They’ll do better next game, with any luck.
Thursday, January 14, 2016. Bernardston, Massachusetts. 7:13 P.M.
It’s so dark I can barely see my own hands on the steering wheel. I hear a knock on my window, look up, see the boy. I’ve been expecting him. I roll down the window.
“Cash or card?” he asks.
“Card.” I say.
“What can I do for you?” he asks.
“Can you fill it with regular, please?” I ask.
“Yup.”
Bernardston has the only full service gas station in Western Massachusetts. I sit back in the car seat and listen to the quiet hum of flowing gasoline.
I look in my wallet. I wish I could tip the attendant, but I don’t have any bills smaller than a twenty.
Sunday, January 17, 2016. Gill, Massachusetts. 3:30 P.M.
I look down at the gleaming cat food dishes in my mom’s kitchen.
They are empty.
I swore I remembered to feed the cats, but all five of them have encircled me and are staring up at me with hungry, pleading eyes.
Did I forget?
Saturday, January 23, 2016. Western Massachusetts. 4:29 P.M.
It’s almost quittin’ time for the Western Mass crime investigators on the scene where the body was found only ten days earlier. The investigators are getting frustrated. Their paper coffee cups are dry, and the One With the Mustache has just suggested a second Dunkin run when the One in the Vest shushes him suddenly.
“Wait,” he says. “I think I know what’s going on here.”
The One With the Mustache gives him an intrigued stare.
“The clues were there all along,” he says, sticking his cold hands into the pockets of his vest. “Traveling from Maine to Connecticut? Cutting through the heart of Western Mass? Someone might scream if they stumbled into it on a cold January night? STOPPED COLD? FROZEN IN ITS TRACKS?”
“A BODY OF WATER!” shouts Mustache.
“Yes,” Vest responds, “a body of water. The Connecticut River!”
The two high-five, and then go to Dunkin.
Ultimately, the only thing that was really murdered over winter break was my social life. And if I’m being honest here, that was really more of a suicide.
Image via.