Chapter 1                Epilogue and Prologue

 It was almost a year to the day that I came to Aspen Grove Cemetery. My injuries were still healing and I was finally walking with a cane. I remembered the fresh cold air of Aspen that I had shared last year with Tracy and Susanne. That was before the terrible events that occurred just a few weeks later in the hot dry air of Mexico’s Baja.

            Karen, my best friend and now fiancé, accompanied me on this pilgrimage hesitantly. She didn’t like Tracy and the injuries I suffered but they were nothing to what happened to Tracy and Susanne. We walked across the soft earth to the plot that had been purchased by Tracy’s father long ago. It looked over the mountains and across the town as if to say that we should not be concerned with those who lie here for they are at peace.

            Jed Barrett’s name was slightly weathered having been engraved many years before but the new lettering was clear as tears, Mary Jo Barrett and Tracy Eileen Barrett, beloved daughter of Jed and Mary Jo. It was cold and I shivered, clouds gathered over the mountains for a spring snowfall but I couldn’t leave the place. The memory of their last days was still fresh. I had written the story of their deaths and saved it on a small memory stick that I placed in a weatherproof container. I dug open a patch of earth beside the headstone and pushed it into the ground. It was probably a futile gesture but someday someone may find it and weep again at the tragedy and bravery of these fine women.

            A car crunched to a stop on the gravel road. A solemn faced police officer walked toward us. “You must be Hilton Christopher..”

            “Yes. Are you Sergeant Stollery?”

            “I am. What are you doing here?”

            “I came to pay my respects. I doubt I’ll be in Aspen again.”

            “You and I have unfinished business. We wanted to talk to you after Mary Jo’s death but you didn’t come. When you are finished here, please, follow me to the station and make a statement for the record.”

            I agreed to tell the story one more time. It seemed funny at the moment with Karen by my side. My meeting Tracy began with Karen’s rejection over a year ago.

 As I recalled it was one of those cold, wet November nights in Toronto. A stiff wind whistled among the buildings in the downtown corridor blowing papers and damp leaves into the doorways of building and the alleys. I had parked the car and leaned into the drizzly gusts to the restaurant and struggled inside thankful for the warmth and colours that signaled the approaching Christmas season. A Christmas song played softly; I think the words were Baby Its Cold Outside. Its wonderful that Christmas songs stop on Boxing Day but why do they start them so early the next year?

            Karen was already seated. I took off my coat, left it in the checkroom and hurried to the table. She stood, we hugged and kissed and I helped her back to her chair.

            “How are you Hilton?” she asked. “It’s been a long time.”

            She looked beautiful, her dark hair seemed to sparkle in the soft lights and her gray eyes were bright with anticipation. She had come directly from her office and still wore her tailored workday uniform. Her clothes are always smart and suitable for all occasions. The gold broach on her lapel distinguished her as a successful woman.

            “I’m fine, thanks Karen, you look lovely tonight,” I answered casually. “Thanks for coming.” I paused and added, “There is something I want to ask you.”

            “Oh,” she said quizzically. “Something personal, I hope.”

            “Let’s order and then we can get into it.” I’ve always believed it’s a good strategy to let a woman’s curiosity grow when you want something.

            We talked about business and her daughters. I brought up the subject of our sailing trip last year to the British Virgin Islands and she winced.

“I thought you enjoyed it.”

            “Hilton, I had a nice time, but I was frightened in the hurricane. We really shouldn’t have been out that far.”

            “I know, I didn’t think that it would come our way, we survived it though. I was proud of the way you manned your post.”

            “Thanks, but I never want to do that again.”

            We were finishing desert when I asked her my question. I wasn’t sure how she would answer because we had not been out much during the year since our vacation.

            “Karen, you know Christmas is coming”.

“Yes, of course I know it, dear.” She smiled twirling her wine glass between her fingers with a strange look in her eyes, sort of as if she expected something special.

“I would like to take you away from all the miserable weather to a nice place beside a warm sea where hurricanes hardly ever happen and we can spend quality time together.” I reached for her hand but she withdrew it from the table. Her eyes seemed to glaze and she looked away.

            “Is that it?”

            A strange reply, I thought, “Yes, it’s a great idea isn’t it?”

            Her smile had disappeared, and then she surprised me saying softly, “I’m not going with you. You just go ahead and enjoy yourself.”

            “But, Karen, I’ve already chartered a boat and made all the arrangements, I’m really counting on you. You know it will be fun and a chance to get away and recharge your batteries.”

            “I’m not going. I have two daughters who need me and my brother has asked us to join him for Christmas in Calgary. The girls are already excited about skiing at Sunshine. Maybe you could come with us, I’ll ask my brother.”

            I didn’t want to spend Christmas with her brother. I wanted to be with Karen and relive some of the wonderful moments we had shared under the sheets. She has legs that never quit and I don’t know anyone who can make love better than Karen.

            I pleaded with her to no avail reminding her of the highlights of our last trip. She began to tell her own stories Her voice was low as she enunciated her words clearly.

            “Hilton, dear, we had a good time then but I wanted it to become something more. When we came home you disappeared, I didn’t hear from you, no calls, no flowers on Valentines Day. Where were you? Well dear, I learned you were getting your jollies with another woman. As I understand it you met her at your daughters wedding in June and she has been seen frequently at your condo.”

            “Aha,” I said. “You’re jealous. She doesn’t mean anything to me. She was a pain and hasn’t been around for a long time. ”

            “Now I get it, you’re horny and have come running to me for a piece of ass. You really are something. You don’t care about me, do you?” Her lips were trembling when she said it and I could see the Christmas lights reflected in tears.

I was stunned. Karen had never acted that way. Karen is the model of a self-contained woman. She had no problem divorcing that idiot she married and then starting her own agency in competition with him. He had exploited her when she worked with him and then began an affair with the receptionist. We became acquainted sometime after the death of my wife. My poor Catherine had developed breast cancer and it spread too fast for the usual procedures to work. She was gone in six months. I couldn’t handle the stress and I found relief in the bottle. That is when I met Karen, two depressed people who became friends. We helped each other to get past the crooks in our lives and then we drifted apart. I don’t think either of us thought of an affair, at least I didn’t. Sex just didn’t seem important then.

            We ran into each other again one spring day walking in the underground concourse downtown near King and Bay. I was becoming interested in women again. I suppose I had been interested all along but didn’t have any libido after all that had happened. She asked me to join her with her girls at a neighborhood picnic the next weekend and I jumped at the invitation. We became much more friendly after that.

            I also found other interesting women and dated a few but didn’t mention it to Karen. Well, why should I? I had no intention of re-entering the state of matrimony. My business occupied most of my time and I enjoyed the freedom to be alone if I liked or with company when I chose. Like many of the other men I knew, I was thinking of buying a boat when I asked Karen to go to the Virgin Islands and test the model I wanted. She agreed and we had a wonderful ten days together. There was a tense time with the hurricane but it only lasted for two days. The boat performed superbly and we arrived in harbour safely even if badly frightened, 

            “I don’t know what you mean, Karen,” I finally blurted. “We’ve been friends for so long and lovers, too. I was sure I could count on you.”

            “That’s it, isn’t it? Friends and lovers, well that was then and this is now and it isn’t good enough any more. You can have your life floating from port to port like some god damned ancient mariner if you like. I’m not going with you and now I don’t want you to come with me.”

            She stood and turned away. I grabbed her arm but she shook free and walked stiffly to the coat check, retrieved her coat and slipped out into the cold dark night. The Maitre D’ came over, “Is everything all right, sir?”

            “No, but will you get me a double Chivas, please?”

            What brought that on? It had been a long time since I’d been in a restaurant alone and it reminded me of the dark months before I met Karen. I became depressed brooding about her and what to do next.

Chapter 2

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