THE CABIN©

by Richard A. Falb

It was one of those mysteries that grow up in a remote woods area. An unsolved mystery, as far as the people in this area are concerned. It is the kind that people make all kinds of stories about. None of which would ever really come close to the real story, but it will never be told. No person in their right mind would believe it.

Building this cabin, in this remote area, had been his dream for years. A dream that began when he was a very young man. It began with a canoe trip into the Wilderness area with a group of friends. He fell in love with the beauty and solitude of the area. Since that time, he had a dream of a cabin in the woods by a lake. It had been put on hold to build a successful career in business and gain the where-with-all so he could realize that dream. Now it had become a desire to get as far away from others as he could be.

Rather early in his marriage, John Gordon's wife left him for another. It had been a rather acrimonial parting. Luckily, they had no children. On the surface, he seemed to have taken that blow relatively philosophically. Down inside he had seethed for quite some time. He had never seriously considered remarrying. That experience had left him embittered.

He invested wisely over the years. Recently he had become embroiled in a bitter battle with some people within the company he had helped found. When his company offered him a buyout at fifty, he took it. He wanted to get away from this corporate jungle. He felt he could trust no one. Especially some very close friends, who had actually tried to maneuver him out of control of the company. He had made them pay dearly for that. It left a very bitter taste in his mouth.

He bought this property deep in the woods, far from any neighbors. Over several years, he built the cabin of his dreams. He wanted to shut out the rest of the world as much as he could. It was now finished, stocked and furnished. It could only be reached by miles and miles of very rough roads, or by floatplane.

It was in the spring, when he sold his house in the city and moved into the cabin. At last he felt he was free from what he termed those backbiting jackals. He was just fifty-three. He had kept himself in very good physical condition. He had always been a hunter and fisherman. He had built up the necessary knowledge and a plethora of good equipment. He was no stranger to the forests and the lakes.

Fishing and hunting were good. He honed his skills so he could provide for himself off the land as much as possible. He was finding he really enjoyed this life in the woods. He had gathered a lot of information on food that could be found in the woods and the lakes. He also learned how to best prepare and cook them.

He began to explore more and more of the woods around the cabin. At first, he tried to keep in sight of the lake, while exploring. He knew he had only himself to count on. He was not taking any stupid chances. It was, after all, a little traveled wilderness area.

During the first month, he was able to become more and more familiar with the woods surrounding the cabin. He marked trails, so he would always know in which direction the cabin lay. He knew if he got lost in the woods, he might not be found until weeks or months later. By then it would be too late. His only contact with the outside was an occasional trip into the nearest town or a visit by floatplane, which brought him occasional supplies. In winter he would have to count almost entirely on a plane equipped with skis. By his utility vehicle, even in good weather, it took him a full day to get to town. He was considering getting a snowmobile in fall.

On one of these exploring trips, he came upon a small clearing in the woods. He was startled to see a young woman, sitting on a low branch watching him. He did not know that anyone lived anywhere near him. Then he noticed her clothing was very strange. Her outfit was all green. It was a type of outfit he had never seen before. She wore trousers that were tight fitting on her legs. Her shoes looked almost like slippers. They were pointed and turned up in front. Her jacket was also green. The whole outfit was in a material he couldn't identify. On her head, she wore a type of pointed cap, in green.

Then he was startled to notice her ears looked somewhat pointed. She looked like a picture he saw a long time ago in a book about ancient legends. She looked, he realized, like the sketch of an elf he had seen in that book. He began to wonder if the solitude of the forest was getting to him. Was he really seeing this creature.

He was startled, by getting a message loud and clear, although her lips did not move.

"You don't believe in me do you?"

"No I don't," he replied. "You look like a sketch I saw of an elf, but elves do not exist, or so we are told."

She smiled at him, "I do not understand your language, only your thoughts," she sent the message to him. "Why don't you believe in me? You see me with your eyes. Come touch my hand and you will see I do exist."

"I'm not sure I can trust my eyes," he replied to her. He walked slowly and hesitantly toward her, then held out his hand. He still wasn't prepared to believe what he was seeing. She reached out and touched his fingers. They were the fingers of a person, and yet. He really did not believe his eyes. He knew in his mind there was no such thing as an elf.

"I mean you no harm," She sent the message to him with a smile. "You moved into our area. I wanted to know who you were. We are not used to having humans living in our area. They occasionally come but they do not stay."

"Who are you?" he asked, then smiled, realizing he was using a vocal language she did not understand.

"Your thought came through very clear. I am a Woodland Elf. We live nearby. You cannot see us unless, like me, we want you to see us," the Elven maiden communicated. Then she smiled at him, "You see we really do exist. We have found it best we keep to areas where there are few, if any humans. We make sure we keep out of sight. I am disobeying the rules."

"Can you speak?" he asked her, this time remembering to frame his question in his thought.

"Yes, I can speak," she told him, "but you would not understand my spoken language anymore than I understand your spoken language. Thoughts, however, are a universal language."

"But I have never communicated by thoughts before." He framed the thought in his mind, still not understanding how they were able to do it.

"That is because you never really tried before. You never had to and you had no one with whom to try. We have been doing this for a long, long time." Her thought came back to him. She had answered with a smile. It was a very friendly smile he noted.

He had now gotten over the shock of meeting her and seeing her very strange clothing. He noticed she was very pretty and was relatively tall. She was almost as tall as he was. She smiled at him as she dropped from her perch on the branch.

She landed very lightly, straightened her trousers, then looked at him, "You finally noticed that I am a woman."

He smiled back at her, "I finally realized you are a very pretty woman," his thought returned to her. He was finding he was reacting differently to her than he usually had reacted to women.

She smiled her thanks for the compliment.

"Come," she communicated as she held out her hand, "I will show you the woods. I cannot get lost and I mean you no harm. I will make sure you get back to your cabin."

He hesitated for only a minute, then he held out his hand and took hers. He didn't know why, but he trusted her. He hadn't trusted a woman for years. She moved, lithely, quietly and surely. He followed, realizing she could easily outdistance him, if she wanted. She could probably lose him where nobody would find him. He couldn't understand why that wasn't worrying him. Why he didn't worry that she might want to get rid of him. Get him lost where he wouldn't be found until it was too late.

She took him through the woods telling him many things about the woods he was not aware of, and would probably have never seen. It was obvious, she was at home in these woods. She really was a woodland creature. Some legends said, that is what Elves were. His mind still would not believe that he was seeing an Elf. They spent several hours walking in the woods, then she brought him out into the clearing by his cabin.

He had no idea where she had taken him or how she arrived back here. He knew she had knowledge of the woods that even the best woodsman didn't have.

"Would you like to see my cabin?" he questioned in his thoughts. He found he was now getting used to communicating with his thoughts, not vocally. For some reason he didn't doubt or question this new found ability.

"Yes," she replied to him. "I want see how you live in something like this," indicating his cabin. "That is part of the reason I appeared to you. I have watched you as you explored the woods. I decided I could trust you."

It was strange hearing her say that she decided she could trust him. She was the one who was in her element here in the forest. He brought her inside. He found himself trying to explain what everything was and what use it had for him. She seemed to understand practically everything. She sat on the chairs, looked curiously at his utensils and felt how soft his bed was. She did it so naturally, he found he couldn't put the spin on what she was doing like what he might with another woman. He offered her something to eat, but she politely declined.

"For this time," she communicated with a pleasant smile. As they went outside, and it was obvious she was about to leave, he found himself asking,

"Will I see you again?"

"If you wish," she answered. "In five days, we can meet at the place where you first saw me." She smiled at him, then turned and moved quickly off into the forest.

Once she was gone, he pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming. He was wide-awake, he found. He really couldn't believe what he had just seen and experienced. There were no woodland people like elves. He always believed this. Now he had seen one himself. Or had he. At least he thought he had. He was totally confused. He was a highly intelligent man, so he should reject the thought of there being Elves. But he couldn't, he was finding. He had not acted towards her like he would have acted toward any other woman. She was not like any other woman.

During the days until he was to meet her again, he tried to carry on as he normally would. In the back of his mind, however, was always the vision of this Elven maiden, and a wonder if this could really be true. Could it be, being out here alone, his imagination had worked over time? He would see in a few days. He wasn't sure how he really felt about seeing this Elven maiden again. But he found he wanted to see her again. He was beginning to want to believe that there were Elves.

It dawned bright and sunny, the day he was supposed to meet the Elven maiden again. He had not slept very well the night before. He was tense and excited. He hurried along the path toward the clearing. He reached it, only to find it empty. He found himself deeply disappointed. Maybe he was too early.

Then a thought impinged upon his mind, "I am here, turn to your right." He turned and saw her smiling at him standing next to a tall tree. He had been looking for her to be in her regular place.

"You were teasing me," he accused her, but he smiled when he said that. She smiled pleasantly back at him. Her smile portrayed nothing but that she was apparently pleased to see him.

Then he asked, "Could you teach me your language so we could talk?"

After a moments pause, her thought came back,

"My language is very complicated, for it is very old. It would be easier for you to teach me your language."

"It would take us a long time if we can only meet for a short time every five days or so," he communicated to her. He was surprised how quickly he said that. She looked at him intently, as if considering her next thought.

"I have decided we could meet every other day, each morning, if you would like," her thought came back. "You can start the lessons today."

He found he was happy that she had agreed to do that. He found he wanted to keep meeting her. He was happy it would be more often and for a full morning. The next hours he began to vocalize the words for many things around them. He brought her back to the cabin and he began to write things down and verbalize them. She proved a very apt student.

Over the weeks, they continued these lessons. They seemed to be making very good headway. As the weeks went on, he realized he was falling in love with this Elven maiden. This was impossible. The thought crossed his mind that he really should stop seeing her. He had no idea where this could possibly go. She could not become like him. He didn't think he could become like her. He found he did not want to stop seeing her.

He dared not touch her except to take her by the hand occasionally. He only did this to lead her to something he wanted to name and teach her how it worked. He dared not take her in his arms, like he found himself wanting to do. He also dared not communicate how he was beginning to feel toward her. He was afraid she would just disappear.

When he went into town to get additional provisions, and when the floatplane came, he dared not tell anyone about her. They would think the solitude was causing him to crack up. Maybe he was. Maybe he was imagining all this. He knew he was not. She was as real as anyone he met in town when he occasionally went in for supplies. No, he was not cracking up. This pretty Elven maiden was real. She was stealing his heart.

He found himself happy to just have her close, to talk to her, to walk through the woods with her. They were beginning to be able to communicate in his language. Then she finally started to try to teach him her language. It was slow going but soon he began to learn how to speak a little in her language. This went on all summer.

She began to spend more and more time with him and do more and more things with him. However, she never took him into the woods to show him where she lived. He considered asking her about that, but always hesitated. He decided he must wait until she made the offer. She never indicated any desire to move in with him, although she was spending all of the day with him now. She even occasionally allowed him to put his arm around her and she put her arm around him. Still he did not dare to put both his arms around her and kiss her. He found he wanted to do that very badly. He did not dare. She might disappear. He found he dreaded the thought of that.

One day she brought him a cap like hers. They both laughed at the sight of him when he put it on. He put it away with some clothes he had in a drawer under his bed. He didn't want to lose it. If someone else happened to come upon his cabin, he didn't want to try to explain its presence.

Late that fall, when the floatplane came, the pilot found no one in the cabin. He thought John was out in the woods and had forgotten the plane was coming that day. The pilot did report this when he returned to town. He then forgot about it.

When John did not show up for his periodic trip into town for supplies, that fact was reported to the sheriff. The sheriff noted that, but as John had opted to stay way out there by himself, he figured John knew what he was doing.

When nothing was heard from John for another two weeks, the sheriff and others, began to get worried. They decided to send a party in to see if everything was okay. They found the cabin empty. When they began to look more closely, it looked like no one had been there for several weeks. That set off an alarm in their minds. They began to search the area. They could find no evidence of John Gordon. He seemed to have disappeared without any trace.

After a week of searching, they finally had to give up. The weather had become stormy and heavy snow fell. One of the searchers, looking for clues as to where John might have gone, found the green hat. He put it on the table, and left it there when they quit searching for the night.

A day or so later that searcher remembered what he had found and was telling some of the others about the strange hat. When they looked for it, the hat was gone. No one else saw it, nor could they find any trace of it. John Gordon became a missing person's statistic in the sheriff's files. There was no evidence of robbery. No one had seen a stranger or strangers in the area. They could find no evidence of foul play. In fact, they could find no evidence of anything. John Gordon had just dropped off the face of the earth.

The next spring, a friend came to get John's personal belongings from the cabin. He left all the furniture and utensils. He thought, maybe sometime he might come up to the cabin. John, in a light-hearted moment had said he was going to will the cabin to this friend. The friend had found he had really done this. John had no known relatives and actually very few friends.

While he was packing up, he happened to look out the window. At the edge of the clearing, he thought he saw a man and woman dressed in strange green clothing, standing looking at the cabin. He hurried out to try to talk to them. If they were from around here, they might have some ideas as to what happened to John. By the time he got out of the cabin, they were gone. He had no idea where they went. He was not about to try to see if he could find them in the woods.

At first he had thought of asking in the town if anyone knew of a couple that dressed in strange green clothing. He decided not to say anything to anyone else about seeing this couple. They would probably think he had been seeing things. He reluctantly closed up the cabin and returned to the city.

One day, a few summers later, the friend decided to drive up to the cabin to see how it was faring. He had kind of forgotten about it. When he reached the cabin, he found it looked well kept, but it was just as he had left it. Then he saw a strange green cap on one of the pegs by the door. Later, for some reason he didn't remember, he looked under the bed. Underneath there was two pair of green slipper like shoes. He thought, of the two people he had seen, after John had disappeared. For some reason, he was afraid to take that thought any further. The friend closed up the cabin, headed back for town and then for the city. He still could not bring himself to tell anyone else of what he thought he had seen. He decided to not plan on using the cabin himself. He would visit it a couple times a year to let the people in the town know it was not abandoned. He had a strange feeling, perhaps that couple in green, were occasionally using it. He decided he would leave it for them. He found, however, he no longer had any desire to meet them. He did not think they had any desire to meet him. That is if they really did exist.

THE END

Death in the Tea House©

By Richard A. Falb

It was the strangest murder case I was ever involved in. It was also the strangest way I ever got involved in a murder case. You might say I kind of backed into it. Or maybe stumbled onto it would be more to the point.

Sharon and I dropped in to this suburban Teahouse, for a late lunch. It was about one-thirty or two in the afternoon. It was a nice quiet place. There were a surprising number of people there, for this time of day. It was in a small mall in a very nice residential area. You really had to be aware of it to find it. It was not a place you dropped in because you were driving by. You had to plan to come here.

We had been here a few times before. It had very good food, a little different than the normal run of entrees. It also seemed to have a loyal group of customers. We stumbled on it one day, when we were out looking over this neighborhood. My wife has a habit of going to real estate open houses. She doesn't want to move. She just likes to see what other people do with their houses. I usually tag along. I want to have an idea of where she is coming from, when she comes up with some idea for a change in décor for our home. It wasn't that I was worrying about the money she might spend. It really was her money. She had ample to do whatever she wished. We tried this restaurant out and we liked it. We kept coming back at fairly regular intervals.

We ordered our lunch, a couple of salads, and were just about finished. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man seated nearby seemed to be having some kind of problem. He was seated with a group of six people. There were two men and four women. They looked like they were probably people from the area. It was a really upscale neighborhood.

The others at his table didn't seem to be paying too much attention to him. He had been just sitting there quietly eating. The rest were in earnest, and it seemed to me agitated conversation. All of a sudden, he fell forward onto the table then slipped sideways off his chair. The woman beside him, started to move out of the way, then realizing something was wrong, reached out to catch him. He slipped through her grasp and slid to the floor. He landed part way under the table and partly into the aisle. He landed on his back. From where I sat, his eyes looked open and staring.

I started to get up and move toward him to see if I could be of assistance. I had some medical knowledge. I had quit in my final year in medical school. I decided rather belatedly, the medical profession was not for me. As I started to move toward the man on the floor, the other man from that table shouldered me out of the way. I stepped back.

"I'm a medical doctor," he said rather gruffly. Then he continued to others in the group, "Better call an ambulance."

I turned back to Sharon, who also had risen and had moved beside me.

"I don't think an ambulance will do him any good. I'm sure he is already dead," I quietly told her. She looked at me questioningly. I shrugged my shoulders.

"His eyes were wide open and staring the moment he hit the floor. He had fallen facing me," I explained still very quietly.

The man looked to be in his late fifties and in good physical condition. At least that had been my snap judgement as I observed the group as we came in and were seated nearby. I had a habit of looking people over and evaluating them. I guess it was a combination of my criminal law training and the fact that when I retired early, I began to write mystery stories. I was always observing people for possible character types in my mystery novels. Besides, it was interesting to speculate what people were like judging from their looks and actions.

The ambulance and the police soon arrived and the man was put into the ambulance and taken away. The paramedics said he was already dead. I knew the police, so was able to take a look at the dead man before they moved him. I was also able to talk to the paramedics and to the police officers. Everyone thought he had a heart attack. It looked like that was a good possibility. We really didn't know any of the people involved so we put it out of our minds and went on our way.

We went out of town for a few days after that. When we came back on Friday night we had an invitation to an afternoon party at the mansion of a friend of my wife's. My wife was the one who had money in our family. That was one smart thing I did. I married a rich wife who was also attractive and charming.

I met Sharon after my wife died unexpectedly. We were introduced by friends. I did have a couple friends who had friends with money. Her husband had been killed in an accident about six months before. He left her very well off.

We kind of formed our own grief therapy group, which grew into marriage. Whenever she was angry at me, she accused me of marrying her for her money. Luckily she was never seriously mad and never stayed mad at me for very long. I really hadn't married her for her money, but I will have to admit that it was nice that she had money. It was always a flip accusation, she never really meant it. We had just hit it off from the first time we met.

When we arrived at the party, I noticed the conversation seemed much more animated than usual. I asked our host what was going on.

"Oh haven't you heard. We have the murder of a prominent citizen in our community," he told me, surprised that I didn't know all about it already. "If you haven't heard about it you really must be slipping. I thought you had good contacts with the police."

"We've been out of town," I explained.

His wife came up to greet us. "Yes, my cousin's, friend's husband apparently has been murdered. They thought it was a heart attack, but the autopsy showed that he really was poisoned. It's been in all the papers and on television."

"Where was he murdered?" I asked now getting interested.

"They don't know actually where he was given the poison, but he died at the Tea House on Blue Pines Road."

I began to think back. "When did he die?" I immediately asked.

"It was last Tuesday. He was in a group that was there for lunch. He was with his wife, his ex-wife and a female friend, who incidentally he was supposed to have had an affair with. His ex-wife's doctor and his wife were also with them. Karen said that it wasn't surprising that a meeting of those people ended in murder."

"You mean there was a bit of animosity among those people?" I asked.

"Well in addition to the fact that the three women had a connection to the man murdered, those three women were all patients of the doctor. The doctor had a reputation as a ladies man who was suspected of having an affair or two with attractive female patients. The three were all attractive women."

I looked at Sharon. "Apparently we witnessed a murder," I said. Our host looked at us questioningly.

"We were at the Tea House that day for lunch. We were sitting close by when the man dropped over dead. I commented to Sharon that the man was obviously dead the moment he hit the floor. I could see his face. His eyes were wide and staring." Then I asked, "Are they saying what poison had been used?"

"They're playing it close to the vest now that it has become a murder investigation," our hostess said. "We gather from rumors, that all of the people at that table are considered suspects. We haven't heard any speculation so far on any other suspects."

Her husband chimed in, "Everyone is wondering whether the poison would have to be given him at the table,"

I thought for a moment. "That's why I wanted to know if they had determined the exact poison used. There are some poisonous substances that are relatively slow acting, but usually the victim shows some signs something is wrong. I thought the man looked okay when we first came in and sat down. However, just before he dropped over, I thought it looked like he was having some kind of problem."

"That would mean it would have had to be administered at the table," commented some one who had just come up to greet us.

"Not necessarily," I replied. "There are some things that only become poisonous when combined with something else. In that case it might have been triggered by something he ate at lunch." Then I smiled, "Having said that I will admit I have never heard of such a case."

"But that doesn't mean that couldn't be the case here," said the hostess beginning to get interested in this possibility with all its ramifications.

"We'd have to find out the exact poison used," I said, hoping to head off any rumor spreading by the group here. "Then we would have to determine the exact things that could make it into a deadly poison for that person. Then we would have to determine if that man ate anything that could possibly trigger a deadly reaction that would kill a person instantly. There are too many ifs in that scenario."

"Killjoy," the hostess exclaimed laughingly. "It would make for a wonderful murder mystery wouldn't it. Maybe you could write one like that."

"I'll take it under consideration," I answered her with a smile as we moved in to join the rest of the people already there. Everyone else was discussing the murder. We hadn't had a murder in this suburban area for twenty years. That had been a case of a wife murdering an abusive husband. She pleaded self-defense and consequently got off very lightly. She was released on probation shortly after the trial. That was before we moved into this community.

One of the women at the party, was a doctor who was a friend of the coroner.

"I was talking to the coroner," she said. "He hinted that it wasn't the usual substance you expect people to be poisoned with. I think he was saying that it wasn't something you normally considered as a poison. Rather it was something that could be poisonous only if combined with another particular substance."

The hostess was standing close by. "That is, what you were saying, Ken. So it could be a possibility in this case," she said her interest perking up again. The Doctor looked at me questioningly.

"We were talking about the fact that everyone was thinking the poison had to be administered at lunch," I told her. "I said that wasn't necessarily so, and put forth that scenario. I then admitted I had never heard of such a case. To further explain, Sharon and I witnessed the death of the man. We were at lunch at the Teahouse and were sitting at a nearby table when the man dropped over dead. I knew he died immediately because I could see his face as he slid to the floor off of his chair. I had noticed he was having some kind of trouble just before he dropped to the table and then slid off his chair. No one else at the table seemed to notice that. He didn't apparently make any noise just before he dropped over. He just quietly pitched to the table and slid off his chair."

"You think he died practically immediately?" the doctor asked.

"I think he was dead when he slumped to the table," I replied. Then I asked, "Could you possibly find out from the coroner what the exact substance was that could have triggered the death of the man. It would be interesting to find out what could possibly have turned it into a deadly poison for him. Also if the theory could hold true that something he ate at lunch could have combined with the substance to turn it into a deadly poison that could have caused his death."

I can try," she said not sounding very hopeful. "He was rather evasive in his comments as if he didn't want to say too much at the time."

I let it go at that. It was an intriguing situation if it was such a substance. However, I had no intention of getting involved. After my last try at actual sleuthing, in which I almost got crossed up with some underworld characters and gotten blown away, my wife said I had better confine my efforts to writing about it. Still this could be an interesting case.

Oh well, better I put that idea on the back burner. Our Doctor friend probably wouldn't get the information needed anyway. Besides at this time, the conversation had shifted over to other topics of interest to this particular group.

It had slipped my mind pretty much by the end of the party.

However as we were leaving, our hostess sidled up to me and whispered, "Keep me informed if you learn anything." That unfortunately, brought it back to the forefront of my consciousness. I knew that now it was going to keep bugging me. I guess I would just have to see if I could find anything out. That is the only way it wouldn't drive me out of my mind. I hated to leave things like this hanging. Sharon said I always like to get things wrapped up in a neat little package. I guess that is what made me somewhat successful at writing mystery stories.

The next week, things got a little busy, so it never resurfaced in my mind. The doctor hadn't called me saying she had found out anything from the coroner. The story had kind of disappeared, for the most part, from the media. Nothing new had surfaced apparently. However the following Tuesday I got a call. It was the cousin of our hostess, of that afternoon party.

"My cousin said you have done some detective work in the past and are familiar with both medical subjects and the law. My friend, whose husband was poisoned, needs someone to investigate the murder of her husband. She thinks the police aren't digging deep enough. They seem to be concentrating only on the people at lunch with them that day. They seemed to think the poison must have been given to him at lunch. They were ignoring the fact the coroner said it was not the normal type poison that was used. She really is frustrated and wants someone who would look beyond the obvious. Would you be willing to take on this case. I'll have her call you to set up a meeting with you, if you agree."

I was thinking furiously as I was listening. It might be an interesting case. I really didn't know any of the people involved, so wouldn't bring any prejudices with me. I don't think Sharon would object too strenuously. This didn't seem to be one with any underworld characters mixed up in it. The people involved so far didn't seem the really dangerous kind. I'd just have to watch what I was eating when I was around any of them. Besides, I had just sent the final proofs of my latest book off to the publishers. I was kind of at loose ends momentarily.

"Tell her to give me a call in the middle of next week. I'll think about it in the meantime. I'll tell her whether I will be willing to take on the investigation or not at that time," I said, not yet sure how I felt about getting mixed up in this case. It might get a little messy, if what was hinted at the party was true. We really didn't need the money at the moment. No creditors were knocking down our door. Actually with Sharon's money we didn't have a money problem.

But I was intrigued. I had to admit that. I guess I would just have to call up our doctor friend who knew the coroner. If I could get a handle on the substance used that turned into a poison, I might start doing some research. That would at least give me something to start on. That is, if I decided to take the case.

Well in the next day or two, I learned that Sharon had gotten interested in this case. Apparently an old college classmate of hers was a good friend of the female friend of the dead man. The one who was in the group and was reputed to have had an affair with him. This might complicate things. I surely didn't want to end up working for two of the suspects. One was more than sufficient. There might be a conflict of interest otherwise.

The evening before the wife of the man was suppose to call, I got a call from our doctor friend. "I finally got the name of the substance," she said. "It really is something you wouldn't think of as a deadly poison. However, I'm not sure that any food products would react with it to turn it into a deadly poison. Two things might have to have been fed to him at separate times. That would mean he really would have to be poisoned by one of the persons at the table with him." She told me what the substance was. I was only vaguely familiar with the substance.

"What if it would react with a pill he was taking, and he would ordinarily take that pill when he ate lunch," I suggested. "Of course that would mean the person who gave him the first substance would have to know exactly what pills he was taking and when."

"Maybe he wasn't supposed to have died at that lunch. Maybe it was a miscalculation on the part of the murderer," suggested the doctor.

"You mean the person thought the pill was taken at some other time, like at night, which would point suspicion only to the wife," I said.

The doctor laughed. "That would depend on who he was going to bed with that particular night."

"Oh you have an evil mind," I told her with a laugh. Then I quickly added, "That could be the case, at least from what I had been hearing at that party."

"Well good luck with that information. I think I'll wash my hands of the whole affair. It looks like it could get real sticky."

I was having the same thoughts myself. I was now kind of waffling about whether I really wanted to take that case for this friend of the cousin of our hostess. Especially with Sharon having a nebulous tie with one of the other suspects. The trouble is Sharon decided she wanted me to take the case. However she did say I should take it for the wife of the murdered man. That would be the only fair thing to do if I was going to have any one for a client.

The next day, sometime in the afternoon, the wife did call and I said I would try and see what I could do. I didn't promise anything, I just said I would do what I could. I also told her that whatever evidence I would uncover would have to be turned over to the police. She agreed without any hesitation. I figured that was a point in her favor. I knew a number of the people on the police force and did have confidence in our police force.

I then set up a meeting with her to formalize an agreement with her for me to investigate the matter. She provided me with the retainer that we had agreed on. I really didn't need that money to begin my investigation, but it kind of gave me legal standing in my work of investigating this murder. I was on retainer with one of the persons involved in the case. This gave me a reason for making inquiries and asking the police for information.

After I met with her, I immediately began to research the substance the coroner said he believed caused the death. I had to get a handle on the type of substances that would react to that substance to cause immediate death. Once I had a handle on those substances I could begin to try to construct the actual murder. In the meantime, I also had to find out as much as I could about the murdered man to see if I could uncover some motives for the murder. I thought this could get very complicated. I also had to find out as much as I could about the people who were at lunch with him that day. They still constituted the chief suspects. As far as I had heard, no other suspects had surfaced.

It proved to be quite a research project. My ties to the medical profession and the local medical school helped. The trouble is it provided me with almost too much information. There turned out to be a number of different things that could cause the substance to turn poisonous. I was having trouble tying it in to the luncheon, however. That would be the critical factor. One of those substances would have had to been taken by the victim. That substance would have to cause him to die immediately. That part of the research was getting me nowhere.

I had been leaning to the theory that something he ate triggered the reaction. If I didn't come up with a food substance that could combine with the substance to cause it to be poisonous, I would have to rethink my premise.

About that time, the police came up with the fact that he occasionally took a prescription drug that would have combined to poison him. After I did some checking, I found that he hadn't taken that drug for months. His wife said he quit it after he finished his last prescription so he didn't have any around that he could have taken. The police had a somewhat skeptical attitude toward that statement by his wife. On the other hand, I was sure she was telling the truth. Of course the doctor, who was with the party at lunch, could have given him the drug without his wife knowing it.

The thing was, unless we found out for sure what substance it was that he took at lunch that caused the other substance to become a poison, we wouldn't have a case. The coroner might have found out this when he did the autopsy and found he was poisoned. However, he apparently wasn't saying anything about this. Maybe there was more than one such substance in his system. It wouldn't do us much good to find out who gave him the substance that became a poison on reacting to the second substance. This was really becoming confusing.

I decided to find out all I could about the people who were at the luncheon with him. Because of who they were and their relationship to my client, this had to be handled very carefully. My connections with some people in the police department did help to a degree. It took a little time and a lot of digging. My research regarding the people at the luncheon got interesting when I found out that his will left an equal amount of his fortune to his present wife, his ex-wife, who he still visited fairly regularly and his female friend. He also left a very substantial sum to the doctor and a somewhat smaller bequest to the doctor's wife.

His present wife was actually wealthy in her own right. His ex-wife, and his female friend were not. It was his present wife who furnished me with this information on the will. The other information I had obtained on my own.

Then things got even more complicated. In my research on the victim, I found that he had three business partners who would get a substantial amount of money with his death. They had the type of insurance policy that paid on the death of one partner so the business wouldn't have to be liquidated to satisfy the claims of the dead partner's heirs. These partners turned out to be close friends. One of these men was seeing the dead man's ex-wife on a regular basis. It was much worse than I had originally envisioned. I suppose you would have to include at least one and perhaps all in the list of suspects, if you conceded that the poison was not necessarily administered at that luncheon at which he died. I now had to research the state of the business or businesses in which these men were partners.

I subsequently found out that the District Attorney himself was planning to handle this case. The murdered man and the other principals in the case were prominent citizens. He felt that this case must be handled carefully. He was up for reelection in another year. I guess he figured this case would be one in which he could prove himself. In addition, if it were mishandled, the media would have a hey-day.

Although I was on good terms with the police, I was not on particularly good terms with this District Attorney. We had locked horns a time or two in the past. That might cause me problems if it turned out I needed a piece of information that he had, but not the police. If he knew I was working on the case, he might try to throw some roadblocks in my way. Well, I would have to deal with that if and when the problems occurred. There was no sense in worrying about them in advance.

I had been so concentrating on trying to get a handle on the poison I forgot about the luncheon. I decided to question the wife who was my client. I set up another meeting with her at her house.

She greeted me at the door. She was technically in mourning. Black became her and she did not look particularly mournful. She was a very attractive woman. I wondered what she saw in Charles Tempken, but that was not my problem. She brought me into her sitting room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" she asked. A cup of coffee would have been more to my liking, but I settled for her tea. It actually wasn't bad.

"I would like to ask you some questions about the luncheon, Mrs. Tempken," I began.

"Why don't you call me Paully. That's what my friends call me," she said smiling pleasantly at me as she sipped her tea. She seemed relaxed, not at all tense like you might expect, with a murder investigation going on and her, a suspect. I just nodded agreement.

"Was there a reason for the luncheon, or was that a normal occurrence?" I asked.

"If you mean, did we get together as a group regularly, the answer is a definite no. This was the first time all of us met at the same time for any reason," she stated emphatically. "It was Charle's idea. He said he wanted to talk to all of us at the same time and this was the easiest way to accomplish that."

"So it was his idea that you all get together for lunch. When did he set it up?" I asked, watching her to see her reaction to these questions.

"He called everyone the day before. He told everyone he had to talk to all of us right away."

"Why did he want to talk to all of you at the same time?"

"We don't know. Several of the group got into an argument right away. The argument was interrupted, only by ordering lunch. Charles never said why he wanted us to meet. I guess he was going to tell us after we had lunch. Maybe he thought we would be so upset by what he told us that we wouldn't be able to eat. Anyway, I never learned what he was going to talk to us about. I had asked him when he was setting up the luncheon. He told me I would find out with the rest at the luncheon."

"Might it have something to do with his will?" I asked then. She didn't flinch at the mention of the will.

"No, I'm sure it had nothing to do with the will. I am sure he didn't want anyone to have any idea what was in his will until he was dead."

"Do you think anyone had any idea why he had wanted to meet with all of you together?"

"No, I don't think so. I was in the room when he called everyone. He said the same thing to everyone. Even to me."

This wasn't getting me anywhere. I thought I would explore a different avenue.

"Did your husband have any serious health problems that you know of?" I asked her.

She thought for a moment. "He had high blood pressure, but he was keeping that under control. He had a double by-pass about seven years ago. His regular doctor seemed to think he was in relatively good physical condition. He had been warned to quit smoking, but he never did. As far as I know he had no problems that would be thought of as life threatening. Of course, he didn't tell me everything."

"Did he seem to be worried about something or did he act at all strangely within say the last couple of weeks?"

"No," she said rather emphatically. "That is why I was so surprised when he came up with this need to talk to everyone in this group right away. It was uncharacteristic of him." When she saw my questioning look, she continued. "He was always rather laid back about things. In addition, he was usually organized and never set up meetings on the spur of the moment."

"So you think that it wasn't something to do with his health that could have caused him to want to get you all together to talk to you?" I questioned trying to put some sense to all this.

"I don't think it was. At least I had no indication that he was worried about his health," his wife replied.

"He didn't seem in a hurry to tell all of you what he wanted to talk about?"

"No. He didn't seem in any great hurry. He said he would tell us after lunch. Then he just dropped it."

"Do you remember what the argument was about?" I asked, wondering if that might possibly be important.

She thought for a few moments. "No, I really can't remember at the moment. I remember thinking it was kind of petty, but I don't remember why."

"Do you remember who started the argument?"

She thought again for the moment. "Yes, that I remember. It was Dr. Marson's wife. I remember he was very upset with her, and I think that just fueled the argument. I really wasn't involved in it although I must have made a comment or two that didn't calm things down. Sheila got real mad at me, but I don't remember what I said that set her off. It must have been a stupid, off the top of my head remark."

She then told me that Sheila was the other woman. That is exactly how she characterized her. I didn't think she was telling the whole truth, when she said she wasn't involved in the argument. My impression was that everyone at the table was involved in it.

I decided to back up to before the luncheon.

"Did he seem preoccupied or different than he normally was in the week or so before the luncheon?" I asked, hoping there might be something that might indicate something was wrong.

"No. That is another thing that made his announcement so surprising to me. He seemed to be perfectly normal. I can't remember a thing that would indicate there was any thing wrong or that he was worried about any thing. I know he didn't tell me everything, but he did discuss a lot of things with me. He was the same as he always was up until the day of the luncheon. Oh, he did seem just a little preoccupied the morning of the luncheon." She added that last as almost an afterthought, as if it hadn't struck her as anything unusual.

"But he seemed to feel okay?" I then asked.

"Yes he ate a good breakfast, and didn't complain at all about not feeling well. I didn't see any indication of that," she replied very positively. Then she added, "Come to think of it, he seemed to be in very good spirits as we left for the luncheon."

This seemed to be getting me no-where. It seemed to prove that whatever he ate or took, that caused the substance to become poisonous, must have been ingested at that luncheon. This would seem to narrow down the type of the second substance. However, at the moment, that was getting me nowhere.

For the moment then, I decided to concentrate on the players in this little drama. These were somewhat prominent people, not the kind I ordinarily hob-nobbed with. As I said, it was my wife who supplied the financial standing and of course the entree to the upper strata of our suburb's society. I decided to do a little research into the newspaper files for any references to any of these people. My wife even agreed to help me in this bit of research. I thought if I could get a better insight into the activities of these people and their connection, I might get an idea. I was running out of them at the moment.

The newspaper was real cooperative, but it was a slow and tedious job. I wasn't sure what we should be looking for.

Our research proved to be enlightening to a degree, however it didn't move me any farther along in the murder investigation that I could see. We found out, the reason the murdered man and his present wife got together, was because her parents and some other relatives were partners with him in a business enterprise. It had been moderately successful. However, lately there were hints of problems reported in the business news.

Then we ran across a bit of interesting news. The doctor and his wife had recently filed for bankruptcy. In doing a little more digging, we found that a company, that both the doctor and the murdered man had an interest in, had filed for bankruptcy protection several months before. The plot began to thicken. There was no information that this bankruptcy affected the financial affairs of the murdered man. His wife had not hinted that he was in any financial trouble.

In discussing this with his wife, I found out she kept her financial affairs strictly separated from her husband's. If he had been in some financial trouble, it would not have carried over to her. They did not own anything jointly. This I thought was somewhat strange. Maybe she didn't trust him to handle her financial affairs. Maybe she didn't think the marriage would last very long. Anyway, that wasn't a reason for her to murder her husband.

When we were discussing this turn of events, my wife looked at me with a puzzled expression,

"There are getting to be too many suspects with possible motives in this case. We were suppose to be eliminating suspects, not adding them," she said. I was getting that same feeling. It was really getting cluttered.

Maybe if I could trace his movements for the day before the luncheon. I had gotten the impression that he was with his wife the morning of the luncheon. Of course I might have to pin that fact down also. I couldn't take anything for granted, obviously. When I asked his wife about this, she said he had gone somewhere right after breakfast for a couple of hours. He came back in time to take her to the luncheon.

After she thought about it she said, "I guess he did seem more quiet and preoccupied after he returned that morning. It wasn't something that really bothered me at the time. However, it didn't seem like he was worried about something. In fact, he brightened up just before we left for the luncheon."

I now had to see if I could find out where he went during those hours, what he did, and whom he met. That would mean he wouldn't have had to necessarily take the substance that made the other substance poisonous, at the luncheon.

We now had not only too many suspects, but too many opportunities to poison him. My investigation was not only not simplifying things, it was further complicating the situation. It was not making sense so far.

Within the next week, my investigation turned up the facts that he had talked to the business partner who was seeing his ex-wife, and had visited his attorney briefly. He also stopped in to a couple of stores before he returned home. The police had also decided to find out where he was on that morning. That made my job a little easier. However, I found out the District Attorney heard I was retained by the widow. He hinted to the police they shouldn't give out any information to me. Luckily I still had some good friends in the police department.

The Sheriff was also a good friend. There was very good cooperation between his staff and the police. It was through the Sheriff, I found out that the District Attorney was putting pressure on the police to find evidence that would point to the wife as the poisoner. The information I had turned up, so far, made her the least likely suspect. With him alive, she had the full use of his money. At the same time, she had full control over her own money. Dead, she had to share his money with a bunch of other people. She really didn't gain anything from his death. In fact it tended to complicate her life while gaining her nothing. That didn't look like a very good motive in my book.

I did find out the murdered man had stopped at a drug store. However his purchases were very ordinary things, none of which would seem to have a bearing on the case. The police had the same idea. There was something wrong that kept nagging on me. I couldn't get a handle on why I felt this way. The whole situation seemed to be wrong for some reason. Nothing was making sense.

I asked for his wife's permission and help to dig further into her husband's background. Maybe there was something about him that would give us a clue. I had no legal standing to question the other possible suspects in the case. The District Attorney was making it difficult for me to get any detailed information from the police. I did find out they were no closer to solving this murder than I was. They had reams of paper work but no evidence against anyone that would stand up in court. They too, had too many suspects who could possibly have reasons for wanting him out of the way. They too, felt there were too many opportunities for the second substance to be given to him. I began to have this nagging feeling that it looked like the murder was carried out in a way that guaranteed there would be a large number of suspects. This would indicate that it was premeditated, and carefully planned.

Through my wife, I did hear a rumor that the dead man thought his present wife was having an affair. Apparently, however, the other man was not anyone in the present group of suspects. That would not constitute a viable motive for her murdering her husband. From all information, she could have easily divorced him on the basis that he was having extra-marital affairs, if she had wanted to get rid of him. I have a hunch, she didn't really worry about his little affairs. Obviously they were no big secret. She was the only one of the group who seemed to be comfortably situated. His death would have gained her nothing that I could learn. From the standpoint of reasons for wanting him dead, she seemed to be the least likely prospect.

For some reason, I decided to approach this whole thing from the fact that there were obviously too many suspects, and too many opportunities to bring about his death. As my wife had hinted, the murder had seemed to be committed in such a way that there would be as many suspects as possible.

I learned in a rather round about way that this whole thing was creating dissention among the suspects. In fact some of these people were providing the police with information about others in the group that might make those people more viable suspects. The only one who was not participating in this activity, it seemed, was the wife, my client. For some reason, this seemed to make the District Attorney more sure that the wife must be the murderer.

From the information I was gathering, and what I could find out about what the police had, the District Attorney had no case against her at all. Someone gave me a rather far-fetched reason for him to want to pin it on the wife. Apparently, according to this source, the wife had worked for his opponent in the past election. I thought he would have to have a much better reason than that for trying to pin the murder on her.

For lack of anything else that made sense about this affair, I decided to do some, what-if speculation, and try to create some experimental scenarios. Of course the first scenario that came to mind, if the murder was done in such a way to guarantee that there would be a multitude of suspects, then the least likely suspect would be a very good candidate. My wife got mad at me when I suggested this possibility. I really didn't think much of it myself.

I then considered the fact that maybe the fact that he died at the luncheon was deliberate. It would point either to the persons dining with him, or perhaps cause everyone to think it was triggered by something he ate at the lunch. That direction of thought had possibilities. That would mean it would not have to be caused by something he ate, only made to look like it might.

For some reason that made me recall that his wife said he was quiet and preoccupied after he returned home the morning of the luncheon. Then she had added that he brightened up just before they left for the luncheon and he seemed to be in very good spirits. A nagging thought began to try to force its way into my consciousness. To carry this thought any farther, I would have to know if the coroner did find out what the second substance could be, or if there were several substances in his system that could have acted upon the primary poison to turn it deadly. That might be a little tricky.

My wife suggested I have my client demand, through her lawyer, all information about the poisoning of her husband. This should include all the substances, found by the coroner, that might have a bearing on this murder. She had retained a very prominent criminal lawyer, who just might force the coroner and or the police to reveal this to her.

When I talked to her, she somewhat reluctantly agreed to cooperate with me and ask her lawyer to do this. It apparently took some convincing to get him to agree. She didn't call me back until a couple weeks later and then she just said he had agreed to try to get that information for her. She hadn't told him that I wanted that information. This was lucky. The District Attorney wouldn't have that reason to oppose this request.

The police apparently weren't getting very far very fast in their investigation. The District Attorney was getting very frustrated by the fact that he didn't have enough of a case to indict anyone, much less the wife of the deceased. Not only that, the media was having a ball needling him. His attitude toward the press, in the past, hadn't earned him any friends among the reporters. In addition, it had leaked out that it looked like he was trying to pin the murder on the wife, although she appeared the least likely suspect. The press really had some fun with that. She had been very cooperative with the press. They too came to the same conclusion I had, the wife had no reason to want her husband dead. She gained nothing from his death.

It took a while, but eventually we found out the coroner had found there were three substances. One happened to be a painkiller that had recently become available as an over-the-counter drug. It was a very small pill. According to my information from friends in the medical field, four small pills could have interacted with the primary poison to kill the person immediately. Of course that was four times the maximum dosage.

With this information, I convinced the wife to allow me to dig into his medical records. It seems he was allergic to this medicine. With the help of the wife, we were able to learn from his doctor he had recently inquired about this particular pill. The doctor had warned him he was allergic to that particular substance. In addition, the doctor had informed him it was not compatible with a medicine he was taking.

Now I had to do one more thing that might sound strange to my client, his wife. I asked her permission to have the car, he drove that day, searched. Apparently the police had not considered this necessary. They had not figured his car would have any bearing on his murder.

I ran into a bit of luck here. Their home was within the jurisdiction of the sheriff. The car was still at home. I was able to get him to conduct the official search. We found a bottle of the pills in the glove compartment, along with a receipt from a pharmacy in a different part of the city. Her husband had bought it several weeks ago and had used a debit card to pay for it. I told the sheriff what my suspicions were and gave him the information I had that backed up my theory. I asked him to furnish this to the police. I later learned the Sheriff had local medical personnel confirm that those pills could have killed the man practically immediately.

The wife meanwhile seemed thoroughly confused as to why I was doing this. After I had turned all my information over to the sheriff, I called my client and asked her to get her lawyer and have the two of them meet with me. I would then tell them what I had found out and what I was convinced had happened.

Several days later we met at her lawyer's office.

"I am convinced," I began, "that your husband was not murdered. All the information I have gathered, seems to point to one thing. He plotted his suicide so the timing and the place would make it look like he was murdered and so suspicion would be cast on all of you." Then I proceeded to lay out my information and why I thought this could be the only logical conclusion from these facts. They were both silent for a while. Then her lawyer spoke up.

"You have done the greatest possible service to our client," he said with a smile. "Even if the police and District Attorney do not buy your theory, the facts you have presented them, makes it impossible to even suggest our client was responsible for his death. Their possible case against her was extremely doubtful as it was. What you have discovered has made it totally ridiculous. I can have this information leaked out from my office. You of course would have to furnish your client with all the information you discovered. You did your legal duty by providing it to the sheriff first."

I laughed. "I made sure of that. The District Attorney and I are not on the best of terms, but he does know I have an extensive criminal legal background. I have done what I set out to do."

Both the wife and her attorney thanked me and she said she would pay me as soon as she received my bill. As I left them, the thought came to me. Luckily our house was also within the jurisdiction of the sheriff and not of the local police.

Two days later, I was called down to the police station and questioned extensively by both the police and a representative of the District Attorney's office. It was a somewhat adversarial interview. However, I had done nothing illegal. The search of the car was done by the Sheriff who had the jurisdiction to do it. The Sheriff had immediately turned the information over to the police.

Shortly afterwards the press came out with the information the wife's attorney had furnished them. That ended the case as far as I was concerned. The sheriff turned the bottle of pills and the receipt from the pharmacy over to the police. There were six pills missing from the bottle. Apparently the dead man was taking no chances.

My wife decided we needed an immediate vacation in Hawaii, and maybe we would go on from there to Australia. I thought that was a wonderful idea. I thought absenting myself from the area was a good idea. It had become fairly widely known that I was investigating this case. The newspapers had found out I had something to do with finding out about the pills. By the time we returned, in about a month, perhaps the case would be old news. Hopefully the police would have closed the case, even if the District Attorney wasn't happy about the results of their investigation.

The End.

 

 

 

THE OLD MAN'S HOUSE©

by Richard A. Falb

 

 

He seemed, at first glance, just a kindly old man who lived in an old house. A somewhat run-down old house. The kind you find in many small towns and cities. What made him different was that he had an ability to tell interesting little stories. The type of stories kids loved to hear.

The town he lived in was like many small towns. There were old houses scattered among newer ones. There were some that just sat there, weeds growing up around them. Sometimes someone would move into one of the old ones. Some of those took on a new life. Life just went on.

That's the way it was with the old man. One day, he just seemed to be there. He lived in an old house on the outskirts of town surrounded by a tumble-down fence. He appeared old, but he stood tall and straight and had a vigorous walk. He was always cleanly dressed, although no one seemed to remember what he actually wore. He looked pleasant and had a smile and a cheery hello for everyone. The house looked weathered and in need of some repairs. It had been vacant for a long time. He cleaned up the yard and even fixed the gate. The other little things did not seem to concern him. He seemed to have enough money on which he lived frugally. He never bothered anyone, and he seemed to be getting along all right. Consequently no one paid too much attention to him.

As time went on, he began to do small odd jobs for various people in the area. He was a very good worker and always did a very good job. Some of the people, who hired him, said he sounded very well educated. However, no one, could find out where he came from or what he had done. It wasn't that he was secretive. He just managed never to tell any one anything. Because of this, many stories grew up about him.

The kids seemed to like him. When he first appeared he would be out at his gate when the children walked home from school. He had a friendly twinkle in his eye and always had a bright smile. He would say hello and ask them how their day went. He never would ask any them to come into his house. Because of this, the parents never saw any cause to worry about him. He would always talk to the children over the fence. He began telling them funny stories and tall tales.

Some children passed his house everyday, on the way to and from school. He was always outside to greet them. If they stopped to talk, usually after school, he always had a story. Still some people were not sure they trusted him. He just seemed strange to them. It bothered some of them that they could never find out anything about him. It wasn't anything they could put their finger on, just a feeling, they said.

Most people, although they thought he was strange, didn't see any harm in him. He never caused any problems. He was just a nice old man who liked to entertain the kids with stories. He was a good storyteller all of the kids said.

Two teachers heard about the old man and his stories, from the children. These two became interested in this old man who always seemed to have a story the kids enjoyed. One day, they decided to walk that way and see for themselves. They stopped with the children and listened to the story the old man told them. It was a nice story that they could see no harm in. To them, it was obvious the old man was well educated. His stories were well thought out. He had a wonderful way of telling stories. They stayed after the children went on. The two teachers asked him where he got the stories.

The old man shrugged pleasantly and said, "I make them up."

After a couple of minutes of talking, the old man invited the teachers into his house for a cup of coffee.

"I'm sure I have some sweets to go along with the coffee," the old man commented with a very pleasant smile. He seemed very gracious and very well mannered.

"We'd love to," said the older teacher. She had become curious to see what the inside of this house looked like. The outside looked rather weathered and slightly ramshackle. It wasn't tumbling down, it just looked like it could use quite a bit of work and painting up. Was the inside anything like the outside, she wondered. No one had ever noticed anything being moved into the house. None of the people who normally did the moving in town had moved anything into this house. They had heard this commented on by a number of people. They were interested in what they would see in the house.

When they got inside the door, they looked around in surprise. The rooms were very nicely furnished. It was nothing like they had envisioned. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. It looked like they had stepped into an entirely different house. It was a house they would have liked. The windows had beautiful curtains and the furniture was modern and of good quality. They were seated in a nicely furnished living room on some very comfortable chairs. The old man produced some coffee served in very nice china cups. The sweets he produced were excellent quality and obviously freshly made. It was as if they stepped into a fine house even to the fine trays he set up for them. They didn't know what to think. All this time, the old man was carrying on a pleasant conversation with them as if this was exactly what they should have expected. They couldn't believe they had walked through the doorway of a ramshackle house and into the house they were now in. It didn't seem possible.

After a while, the two teachers thanked the old man, and said they should be going. They noticed as they left the yard, that although the fence seemed ramshackle, and missing a few boards, the gate was a very solid iron one, with beautiful scrollwork. They had not noticed that when they went in. They both looked back at the house as they walked down the road. It was still the old ramshackle house, definitely in need of some repairs.

"Did you get the impression that it was an entirely different house once we were inside?" the older teacher asked.

"Yes. I very definitely did," answered the younger teacher. "Also, once inside, he didn't look so old and his clothes seemed to look nicer and newer. It was very strange."

"That's funny. I had the same feeling," replied the older teacher. "Of course it could be the effect of the difference in the looks of the inside of the house. It was beautiful. I loved the place, curtains, the furniture. I could have just moved in. Nothing like I expected to see."

"He does seem to be very well educated, the way he speaks," the younger teacher said thoughtfully.

For a while they only talked about it between themselves. However, as both of them saw the same thing at the same time, they began to tell others. The stories of what the teachers saw, and their impressions, slowly spread around the town. This, of course, increased the speculation, on who the old man was, and what he was doing here. However, he was not causing any problem. It was admitted, he was very pleasant to everyone.

He did not try to entice the children into his house. On the contrary, he kept them outside of his fence, talking to them, over his ornate iron gate. He never offered them anything to eat, he just told them stories. Rather wonderful stories, according to the children. He promptly paid his bills.

Apparently he was getting a pension or an annuity of some kind which he picked up at the post office every two weeks. The money, it was discovered, came in the form of a cashier's check from an Eastern bank. There were no clues here, about who he might be.

The speculation, of course, centered around why the outside of his house looked kind of run-down, but the inside, according to the two women, was beautifully and tastefully furnished. Some people, of course, questioned the story of the two women. The women were new to the schools in town, having been hired just this past school term.

Some people tried to cook up ways to get invited into his house, but he always met them at the gate. Although he was very pleasant and more than willing to talk with them, he never invited them into his house. Afterward they could never remember how he got around that. He never seemed to have a problem, for which he had to call a repair person. This speculation went on for several months. Then it began to die down. Most people lost interest. They could find nothing sinister about him. The old man was still a very pleasant person. The kids still loved to hear his stories.

One day, a man came to the house from the town's water department. He told the old man that he needed to attach a special meter that could be read from outside of the house. The old man very graciously brought him into the house and into the basement where the water meter was. The man installed the connection to the water meter and then installed the meter outside. He then left.

Later, people at the water department questioned him about what he saw inside the house. He said the rooms he saw were plainly furnished, as he had expected. It was nice and clean, and looked in good shape. He didn't see anything unusual. It looked like a house he could be comfortable in. He said it looked a lot like his own house the way it was furnished. He said the old man was very friendly and helpful. He told his fellow workers the old man offered him a cup of coffee and some store-bought cinnamon rolls. When he was asked how he was served the coffee, he replied matter-of-factly, "In a mug of course."

As this story spread, speculation again increased. Some people began to say they were either talking about two different old men in two different houses, or somebody was making up their story. Both the two teachers and the man from the water department stuck by their stories. Things began to die down again after a while. People just got tired of discussing it.

Fuel was added to reheat the speculation by something that happened later that month. Three men, who were real curious about the old man, found out the old man was going to be away for a couple of days. The three were some-what short on ethics. They didn't see breaking and entering as a crime as long as nothing was stolen or destroyed. Late at night, on the second night, the three climbed over the fence and went to the back of the house. They found a window they could force open. Then, with flashlights for light, climbed into the house. What they found, was a completely empty room, in the same disrepair as the outside of the house. They went through the whole house finding exactly the same situation in every room. There was no furniture or anything in the house. It looked like a house that nobody lived in. They quickly left the house and carefully replaced the window as they had found it. None of the three men spoke all the way home. They didn't know what to think, and they were almost afraid to say anything.

The old man came home and everything continued on the same. He did not seem to realize his house had been broken into. The children still stopped by when they saw him. He always had a story for them. Several times, mothers would go to the school to meet their children and then stop with the children to talk to the old man. The old man acted as if this was normal and told his stories as he always did. He never invited any of them into the house. Some of them were curious to see the house, but they knew he really had no reason to invite them in.

The men who had broken into the house couldn't continue to keep silent. They told some close friends what they had done and what they saw. The story began to circulate, but of course no one seemed to know who the three men were who claimed to have seen this. Everyone said they had heard someone talking about this, but they didn't know who the people were.

Because the old man did not report any break-in, the police could not do anything. Actually they preferred not to do anything about this situation. They weren't sure what to make of all these stories. No one actually had any complaints about the old man. Just because no one could agree what the inside of his house was like, was no reason for them to investigate. That was no crime that they knew of.

With the coming of winter, the old man no longer was waiting outside for the children. He was only seen on rare occasions, when he went to the post office, the bank or to do some shopping. The speculation about him and his house seemed to die down. The three different stories about the inside of his house were kind of forgotten about for the time being.

With spring, the old man again began to meet the children at his gate, as they came home from school. He again began to tell his stories, and mothers stopped regularly with their children to hear his stories also. They all agreed he was just a nice friendly old man who was a wonderful storyteller. But with the coming of spring, also began the speculation.

The house outside still looked like it needed repairs, but it didn't seem to bother the old man. However, with spring, flowers began to replace the weeds in the yard. There were some flowers people didn't recognize. The old man didn't seem to do any work in his yard, although he continued to do work for other people from time to time. To those people, he seemed to know a lot about flowers.

A college professor, from a nearby college, heard the stories and decided to try to visit the old man himself. He timed his visit for the morning when he hoped the old man might invite him in for a cup of coffee. The old man, as usual, met the professor at the gate. The professor introduced himself and started to talk with the old man. It was obvious to the professor that the old man was very well educated. Eventually, the old man invited him in for a cup of coffee, just as the professor hoped he would.

The old man took the professor into the library, which was filled with beautiful mahogany bookcases filled to the ceiling with books. The furniture was comfortable, real leather chairs and oak tables. In fact it was the type of house the professor loved. Everything about it was perfect in his mind. He could have just moved in. The coffee the old man served was the professor's favorite along with scones, which were also his favorite. The old man willingly talked with the professor on many subjects, but never once revealed where he came from or what his background was. The professor finally said he must be going and thanked the old man for his time and refreshments. The old man showed him to the door. The professor noted the fact that the gate did not belong to the fence.

He also looked back at the house and wondered, if the house he spent an hour or so in, was the same as the one he was looking back at. It did not seem possible. The house he was looking back at was old and ramshackle. The inside of the house he saw was anything but old and ramshackle. It had been beautifully and tastefully furnished. It must be, because there was no possible explanation for it being otherwise. He had the feeling that when he went through the door of the house he passed into an entirely different house.

When the professor reached the college, he immediately arranged to meet two very close friends that night. He intended to present them with this situation and see what they made of it. Apparently the four groups of people who had been inside of the old man's house, three by invitation and one by stealth, had seen, according to their reports, four different houses. Each of the houses were what those people would like. In other words, it fit their particular character. The outside and the old man, however was the same. The professor, himself had seen a fabulous library, and a man who was obviously intelligent, well educated and extremely well read. They were all apparently seeing what they wanted to see, or perhaps what the old man wanted them to see. But if that was the case, how could he possibly do it and for what reason. The professor was both puzzled and intrigued.

That night the professor's friends listened with interest, mixed with a certain skepticism. It was not that they doubted their friend. They knew he was telling them exactly what he had seen and experienced. It was that the whole scenario was just too strange. There was no logical explanation. Yet there was no reason for the people to make up stories about what they had seen.

As they talked, they were trying to think of someone, who could get into the old man's house with a plausible reason, who they would trust to report exactly what that person saw. It narrowed down to a young woman, one of their former students, who was now with the State's Department on Aging. She could say she came to explain, to the old man, all the services that could be available to him if he would ever need them. They figured he would be a gentleman and invite her in to explain things to him.

Two weeks later she did show up at his gate. As usual the old man was there to meet her. He listened politely and then as the professors had hoped, invited her in for coffee while she told him about the services her department had available. She had been briefed on the all the stories, including what the professor had seen. She looked the outside of the house over carefully as she walked to where the old man was standing at the gate. She examined the gate as she talked to him and as he let her in. Then she looked the house over as she walked toward it and then into the house. Even though she had been prepared for what she might see, she was still taken aback. As the professor had told her, she seemed to have walked through the door into an entirely different house. What she saw was a house nicely furnished in the latest contemporary style. The furnishings were not expensive, but of good quality. She carefully studied everything without being too obvious about it. It was exactly as she would have wished to furnish it.

Of course, as a person dealing with older people she would be naturally interested in the place in which he was living. The old man proved to be pleasant, friendly and interested in what she was telling him. He served her coffee and cakes on nice everyday china. The coffee was very good and fresh brewed and the cakes obviously fresh baked. She listened intently when he talked, and observed him as she talked. She found it to be a pleasant visit, and she thanked him for the coffee and cakes, and the old man thanked her for the information. Although she thought he looked old when she first met him at the gate, now she didn't think he was as old as she first thought. She too looked back at the house as she left. It really was an old ramshackle house. At least on the outside, and that was the problem. It was entirely different on the inside.

As soon as she got back to her office she called the professor to report her observations. When she finished she said, "I saw it with my own eyes, and you saw it with your own eyes, and I don't think it is possible. That house inside was definitely not the house I entered from the outside, but I don't know how that could be possible. It was as if I walked through the door into a different world."

"That is exactly the impression I had, and I reached the same conclusion," the professor told her. "I would like to have both of us invited into that house at the same time, but I am positive that would not be possible. What troubles me most is the why and how. The old man is real, and the house is real. That we know. The inside of the house I saw was real. I felt and examined the furniture and the books."

"I did too, as much as I could," the young woman agreed. "What I saw, I am convinced was real, not an illusion. But how could he do it. And as you said, why is he doing it."

Within time, the story, of what the professor and the woman, from the department on aging, saw, started to leak out. Pressure began to mount on authorities to investigate. This was becoming too strange and people began to call for some kind of an investigation. Some started hinting about witchcraft. But the old man was not hurting anyone. He was not causing any trouble.

The sheriff resisted the pressure as long as he could. He would have to make up some reason for getting into the old man's house. Before he came to investigate the old man and his house, he sent word to the old man that he would be there with a couple of deputies on a certain day. He could not bring himself to just dropping in on him without any warning.

That day, the sheriff and his deputies drove up to the house. The old man was not at the gate to meet them. One of the deputies pointed out, the gate, was not the nice, iron gate that had been reported. It was a wood gate half off its hinges and hanging open. They walked up to the door and knocked several times. Getting no answer, the sheriff tried the door and found it open. What they walked into was a completely empty house that was as badly in need of repairs as the outside. There was no sign of the old man and no evidence anyone had lived here for several years.

The deputy turned to the sheriff, "Several days ago I drove by this house and there were flowers blooming in the yard. When we came in today, the yard was full of weeds."

The sheriff was silent for a few moments, then he directed one of the deputies to get pictures of the inside and outside of the house. Then he directed the other deputy to see if anyone had pictures of the house while the old man was here, and especially if anyone had taken pictures of the old man. They then put the yellow crime scene tape around the entire yard to keep everyone out until the sheriff could get the state BOCI in to get fingerprints and things. They actually saw no footprints in the dusts except for those obviously made by the three men.

That night the house went up in flames. It was an intense fire and the whole house burned completely to the ground before the firemen could put the fire out. Because it was an old wood house it burned very quickly. In the center of the ashes was a bust of an old man. The bust was completely untouched by fire.

Later the state fire marshal's office reported, the fire apparently started in the area of the bust. It almost looked like spontaneous combustion. Pictures people had taken of the house, showed only weeds and no flowers and none of the pictures showed the metal gate or the old man.

The property was left empty. Finally the town removed the debris and the old fence torn down. The children along with some fathers and mothers built a new wood fence around the property and planted a large garden within. Then, they found an iron gate like the one the old man would lean over, to tell the children stories. They were able to get the bust of an old man from the sheriff and they built a pedestal in the middle of the garden and put the bust upon it. They put a plaque on the pedestal. It reads, "This is the Storytellers Garden". Beside the pedestal they put nice wooden bench.

Many children would still stop on the way home from school and spend some time looking at the garden, as if they were waiting for the old man to appear and tell them a story like he used to. If you visit that town today, you will still hear the stories about the old man who loved to tell stories to the children. No one however, repeats the stories of what all those people saw as the inside of the old man's house. They still maintain the garden there. They still call it the old storyteller's garden. Some have said they have seen the ghost of the old man, leaning over the iron gate, as if he is telling stories to the children. But then, there are always people who say they see ghosts.

THE END