APPLE ROAD: L.A. WOMAN

He used binoculars to watch her leave her tiny studio apartment on West Riverside Drive. She walked towards the freeway overpass where she would get in line for The Tonight Show starring Johnny Carson as she did every Friday afternoon. As usual, she was dressed to impress, hoping that she would catch Johnny's eye and get discovered.

When she arrived at the entrance to the 134 Freeway overpass, he started the engine and drove to the center of the overpass and got out of the limo. He walked towards her carrying a single rose, an envelope embossed with the letters "VIP Pass" and an empty champagne glass.

"Mr. Carson graciously requests your presence at a pre-show party at an undisclosed restaurant across the street from the studio," the limo driver smiled.

She wanted to believe it was really happening. By the time she realized she was being abducted, it was too late.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: THE RAIN SONG | BURNING ALIVE IN HELL

For two and a half months the FBI searched for the torso of Jane Doe One. They never found it. They interviewed almost everyone in the township of Appleblossom and went as far north as the unincorporated hamlet of Lonesome Lake where they located a person of interest with a Hollywood connection, Theodore Embry. Embry was a cousin of a summer blockbuster big wig in Tinsel Town. His could-be-fabulous chalet on the lake was a study in squalor but that wasn't against the law and there was no evidence of foul play.

By April there was only a skeleton crew left behind in Appleblossom. Everyone else was reassigned to the new location in Toluca Lake, California.

No one at Ray Moon's Market and Service Station was considered a person of interest. Ben Baker would have made the list if they could see him now in his trailer on the edge of the apple orchard of St Anthony's Abbey. The snow had melted and the heaviest rains ever came. It was 10:00 in the morning on his day off but he couldn't go trout fishing from his favorite spot on the Apple Road Bridge, so he went to the refrigerator for another six pack of beer. He didn't get up for "a" beer. He grabbed six at a time. He took long drags on his bong and sat around in what passed for his pajamas these days, the uniform shirt stained with the blood of Cherie Solange.

Cherie was in the back office taking orders from Stan Stills, the society page writer. She was fetching stock photos for the piece about the upcoming annual Easter Egg hunt at the abbey. The doctors said she could return to her delivery job but Sam Masterson wanted her to wait one more month. Sam still believed Cherie aspired to be a writer and that she'd been taking writing classes. Craig and Skipper snickered between themselves that it must be hard for her to write with nun-chucks. They kept it as an inside joke between the two of them.

Craig and Skipper were donning their slickers and galoshes.
Skipper walked over to Tina's desk and leaned in towards her to show her he was dead serious. She was looking out her window at the cars in the parking lot. The rain was so heavy that it distorted shapes and made lights crawl like shadows on the wet pavement.

"I mean it, don't call me Skipper anymore. Call me Richard. I'm going back to my given name now. Seriously, Tina is that too much to ask," he noticed her jaw dropped and the blood left her face.

"It's not that big a deal," he frowned. 

Tina stood up like a zombie and looked right through Skipper and let out a high pitched scream. She ran towards the front door. Just as the door squeaked open, she leap upon the him and wrapped her legs around his waist tight.

"Hey, Tina," His voice was horse and deeper than they remembered. Lewis slid her off him gently like hot wax gliding down a candle. He gave nods of recognition to Craig and Skipper. They didn't expect to see him until Christmas, if then.

"Dude," Craig nodded back to his big brother. Lewis didn't look like himself. His face was gaunt and it looked like he hadn't shaved in a week. He'd lost a lot of weight. He was wearing a leather jacket and a white tee shirt that was soaking wet.

"Is Cherie here?" he asked.

"She's in the back office working with Stan," Craig gave his brother a side hug.

"I'll catch up with you tonight, man," Lewis put one arm around Craig, squeezed tight and tugged him in for a quick rib cage bump.

He stopped in front of the glass wall of back office. Her back was to him. She was fishing for something in a file cabinet. He'd never seen her with her hair down. She always wore the braided ponytail. Since she was grounded from jogging, martial arts, her paper route and anything strenuous until her injuries healed, she let her hair hang. It was like a caramel waterfall with flashes of gold and red when it caught the light. Craig called her "Cousin Itt" from the Addam's Family. She had to whip her head to swish it away from her butt every time she sat down so she wouldn't sit on it. 

Cherie felt eyes upon her and turned around. He opened the glass door and walked towards her.

"Cherie, get your things. I have to talk to you," Lewis choked the words out plaintively. He looked like a man in mourning, completely broken in two. A tear rolled down his cheek.

She hesitated. The sound of a toilet flushing broke the silence.

"Come on, baby, don't make me cry in front of Stills," he begged her. Something in her snapped. She put the file Mr. Stills asked for on top of the cabinet, grabbed her purse and threw her coat over her arm instead of stopping to put it on. coat He took other her arm. The file folder slid off the cabinet and the photos fanned out on the floor like the feathers of a peacock in heat. They didn't look back. 

Stan Stills came out of the restroom and hydroplaned on the photographs, breaking his fall by grabbing the chair from the cartoon drafting table. It was on wheels so he ran with it, knocking over things in his path until the chair hit the wall. 

"Mother Of God!" He shouted after he regained his balance. He bolted out into the front office to find out what was going on.

"Did she ask if she could leave?" Tina was trying to trade outrage for tears.

"Nobody said anything to me," Stills rubbed a patch of fog off the window. "I see! The Battling Burtons are at it again!" 

Indeed, at first it seemed like Cherie and Lewis were at each other's throats in the parking lot in the pouring rain. Cherie's arms were gesturing so much she dropped her coat and purse in a mud puddle. Lewis kept slapping his heart like a love-sick gorilla. When she started to bend down to pick up her things he stopped her and brought her back up and pulled her in for a kiss that lasted so long that Tina couldn't take it anymore. 

"For God's sake!" She stormed off to the restroom.

"Watch out for the shit on the floor, Tina! I almost broke my damn neck," Stills called out but didn't budge from the window. With Tina gone the men could openly stare at the scene.

"Yep, Burton and Taylor are an item again," Stills shook his head.

"Do they even know it's raining? Man, that's some heavy shit," Craig stood there almost unrecognizable and completely covered in his rain gear. 

"You're too young to be watching this, Craig. You should be home watching Shari Lewis and Lamb Chop," Stills ribbed the wide-eyed innocent kid. 

"Huh?" Craig didn't get it.

"Lamb Chop, the sock puppet? Yeah, before your time, kid. Sorry about that. I keep forgetting how damn old I am," Stills sighed. From then on his nickname for Craig was Lamb Chop.

Stan didn't mess with Skipper or Tina. They were both burning alive in the hell of unrequited love and no longer had a sense of humor between the two of them.

"Come on man, we've got deliveries to make, remember," Skipper sighed when the show was over. Cherie and Lewis took off in the tiny green sports car.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: RIP EHBO EEE

"Exposure my ass!" FBI section chief Thomas Gra hung up the phone politely enough but swore out loud afterwards. It was obvious to him that the young man did not die from exposure. Gra was furious. He liked the gentle kid who had managed to survive against all odds with absolutely everything going against him. Everything except Cherie Solange. She had damn near killed herself trying not to run over Ehbo. 

"Sir?" Agent Joy Pruitt had been sent to Gra's make shift field office. The door was open. Agents Fletcher Sarras, Dill Murphy, Scotty Uzer, Mavis Taylor and Frank Lagery stumbled in after her nursing steaming paper cups of coffee. None of them had gotten any sleep. All they knew at this point was that there had been another murder.

"Twenty minutes ago Ehbo Eee was murdered in his bed. Pruitt, I want you to interview Cherie Solange again. She knows something," Gra tapped the photo of Cherie that was tacked to his bulletin board next to a photo of Ehbo, the new Jane Doe's head and everyone else who was on the scene at the rest stop the night before.

"Yes, sir," Pruitt nodded and began studying the photos on the board.

"I want the rest of you to get the hell on out of here and take that hospital apart. Interview everyone who was in that hospital or anywhere in the vicinity of that hospital last night. Detective Dorsey is with Ehbo's body now. Secure and transfer the body immediately. Agent Dill Murphy, you are to stay with said body until the transport is completed. Someone murdered that young man. I want to know how that happened. I do not want to hear that he's been cremated or misplaced." Chief Gra stood back and waited for one of them to say something.

"That coat," Agent Taylor's jaw dropped.

"Damn straight that God-awful coat!" Gra knew Taylor would be the first to see it. Ehbo was taken in wearing a coat that was evidence in a case that had gone cold.

"Wait a minute. That torso with the coat belongs to the cold case head? Where was I when this happened?" Agent Dill Murphy fired in disbelief.

"If we had the coat, how in the hell did that kid get a hold of it?" Agent Fletcher Sarras asked at the same time as Murphy and Uzer.

"When did we get the torso?" Uzer blurted.

"When did we get these photos!" Taylor pointed at the blow ups of the Polaroids that Cherie Solange had anonymously mailed to the authorities.

"We don't have the cold case torso. The torso we have is fresh. We do have confirmation that the same weapon was used in both decapitations, so our cold case is hot again. We've had the coat since last night. The photos were given to us by Homicide Detective Dennis Dorsey who received them from an anonymous source via the US Postal Service. Agents Brown, Le Teil and Braisse are in the field now with flashlights searching for the torso. They are using the rest stop as a temporary command post. The head we found in the San Andres Forest north of Los Angeles goes with the torso we are looking for here today east of the Mississippi. That my friends is too much space. Find out who sent those photos but first secure Ehbo's body. The person who wanted him dead no doubt wants him gone and that's not going to happen. Ehbo knows who killed both Jane Does and he's going to tell us because we are going to protect him a hell of a lot better than whoever was supposed to be protecting him last night."

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: B.C.

Five years "B.C.", which was Apple Press jargon for "Before Cherie", Dr. Walter Bramley used to bring his family up to his log cabin estate on North Apple Road on weekends and holidays. He and his wife Gloria had one son. David was turned nine the day Dr. Bramley told his wife that he had died.

"It's your fault, Gloria. Your frigidity killed our boy. I've done everything I could to help both of you but it has come to this. Your game of withholding yourself from me caused him to be born fragile. He lost his will to survive and passed in his sleep last night, my dear. He's to be buried after Mass at the priory tomorrow. They've taken him already. Edison is going to drive you to the town house. I want you out of my sight. I just might kill you with my bare hands if you don't go now. I think we both could use some space." Dr. Bramley hissed to his heavily medicated wife. Edison had already loaded Mrs. Bramley's suitcases in the limo.

"Marina," Gloria managed to murmur.

"Marina will be staying here with me. After all, I need someone to take care of me. In the meantime, Edison will look after you. He has your medication schedule. I'll check in on you in due time," Dr. Bramley dismissed his wife.

"Get this monster out of my sight, Edison," Bramley pushed the wheel chair towards his man servant.

Of course, none of what Dr. Bramley told his wife was true. Their son was not dead yet. He was in the pool house with Marina. Marina was fourteen when she was purchased by the Bramleys at a very good price when they drove their recreational vehicle to Mexico on a family vacation several years ago. He wanted Gloria out of his way while he remodeled the estate. He was giddy about the changes he was making and didn't want her sullen face to bring him down. The isolation of being locked in her room in their townhouse for a few months might loosen her up.

The new practice he was opening was inspired by the monastery several miles up the road from his estate. For a fee the monks rented out tiny wooden shacks and provided retreats consisting of a schedule of prayers, chores and meager meals designed to restore balance in the lives of lost souls. Bramley's version of a healing retreat included medications, severe sleep deprivation, fasting and sessions in a sauna and hot tub. 

The towering cement wall around his compound was also something the monks didn't have. He justified it by telling himself he didn't want his wealthy patients mauled by bears but the real reason was that from his experiments he knew that sleep deprivation was a powerful tool that could render a person to think there was nothing wrong with running down the road butt naked and administering bizarre soliloquies to strangers who would feel compelled to report them to the authorities. This stage of treatment was something that should not be observed by the general public.

Five years ago, when David was nine years old was also the time when Dr. Bramley started stocking up on medical supplies so that he could tend injuries that occurred to his patients during the marathon treatments without having to resort to clinics and emergency rooms that might be unduly alarmed by what they saw.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: THE APPLE PRESS

After dinner and slow dancing for hours, Lewis took Cherie home. He drove his green Triumph sports car uncharacteristically slow. He was disarmed by how comfortable the silences were between them. They were like an old married couple in their eighties. It was like they had already said everything. He glanced over at her soft wool skirt that fell two inches below her knees. Modest yet deadly. He thought of something that made him laugh softly to himself.

"What?" Cherie realized that she couldn't read his mind after all. 

"Your skirt. The famous plaid skirt. You wore it with platform sandals the day Skipper hired you and you delivered the paper to the monks that same afternoon," Lewis shook his head. 

"Who told you that?" Cherie wondered out loud.

"I arrived just as you were leaving. It became a topic of conversation around the water cooler the day you were hired," Lewis made light of the explosions.

If it wasn't for his crazy nephew, Skipper, it was likely Lewis never would have met Cherie. And she was the reason he'd stayed this long after Christmas. Usually he was gone the day after Christmas and didn't show up again until the next Christmas. He had been keeping Tina company during her coffee break when Skipper burst into the front office of The Apple Press with Samuel Masterson hot on his heals.

Samuel Masterson was the owner of the only daily newspaper in the township of Appleblossom. He had adopted Skipper when his sister Eve Momoday died. No one knew where Skipper's father ran off to and no one was eager to find out. 

Sam saved Skipper from foster care and big city life and put him to work at the paper with the rest of his boys. Lewis started roaming about that time and got a taste for travel. His little brother Craig had the Apple Road route and at first Lewis split his Appleblossom Highway route with Skipper, which was about 35 miles and studded with stops all the way down to the city in the valley below. Eventually have gave Skipper more and more of the route until finally Skipper was handling it all on his own. It had the stops that were too dangerous for a girl, honky-tonks, rest stops, liquor stores and even the churches and the public library were dangerous later on in the day when it was getting dark and fewer people were around.

The Apple Road route was a pain in the ass but it was necessary. The Appleblossom route was how the township attracted tourists to the Apple Road treasures when tourists got off the interstate for gas and discovered the charms of Appleblossom via the paper. The Apple Road route had just a handful of stops but they were where the news of many of the coming attractions generated. 

The monks at the priory would get a bundle of the paper and give the driver copy for the next day's paper. New batches of apple cider and apple jelly, festivals and other happenings were announced in The Apple Press. The Ranger's Station took a bundle and gave reports for the next issue as well. It was a 58 mile route with only a few stops. It took up too much time for Craig and Skipper and made the days longer than they had to be.

"Who is that girl driving off in my truck? Why is that girl driving off in my truck?" Sam shouted.

"She's taking the Apple Road route. Craig and I split the Appleblossom route. It's too much for one person," Skipper mumbled.

"You hired someone without asking me? We didn't advertise an opening or did we?" Sam raised both eyebrows.

"There was no help wanted ad. She was a walk in. He hired her on the spot," Tina chimed in.

"Who asked you!" Skipper barked at her.

"I'm going to the break room to get a doughnut. Let's get out of here, Lewis! Lewis?" Tina realized Lewis was no longer paying attention to her. He was the most handsome bachelor in the township and she had him all to herself until these two bozos came bashing up the moment.

"I did a good thing. We needed help. I hired help. You said I was your right hand man!" Skipper's cheeks turned bright red.

"He's your right hand LEG man. He hired her legs. I saw it with my own eyes!" Tina was starting to get angry too.

"Shut up!" Sam and Skipper shouted at Tina at the same time.

"The only reason you are mad at me is because you are still holding out hope that Lewis is going to stay this time and everything will go back the way it used to be. But you aren't going to stay, are you, Lewis?!" Skipper tried to spread the humiliation around.

"Let's go get a doughnut, Tina, my blood sugar just dropped," Lewis took Tina's arm and they disappeared.

"Run, Lewis, run! That's all you do! You should be an Olympic runner by now! Bring home the gold next time, why don't you..." Skipper was losing his mind.

"Simmer down, Skippy! This isn't about Lewis. This is about you hiring that girl without even talking to me. What if she is a truck thief and..."

"She's not a truck thief, Uncle Sam. She's renting old lady Belle's place by the railroad. She really needed a job. I called Miss Belle and she likes her. Everybody likes her and we need the help," Skipper defended his actions.

"Don't call me 'Uncle Sam'," Sam winced.

"Don't call me 'Skippy'," Skipper fired back.

"Ok, Skipper. I'm going to talk to you like you were my own son, ok?" Sam calmed down.

"Ok." Skipper let down his guard.

"You're and IDIOT!" Sam bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"That's how you talk to me? After what you just said? You wouldn't say that to Craig or, God forbid, your precious Lewis!" Skipper was deeply wounded.

"I damn well would too if either one of them was harebrained enough to hire a girl they had the hots for! If you fall in love with a girl who just happens to work where you work, that is fate. If you hire a girl BECAUSE you want her, that is tempting fate and it's not going to have a happy ending. She's off limits now, you do know that, don't you?" Sam lectured.

"Well, she really needed work and she can handle the route," Skipper lost a lot of steam.

"Then you could have helped her find a job some where else, you understand?" Sam softened.

"Yeah. I get it," Skipper humbly realized his mistake.

* * *

Lewis walked Cherie to her door.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh.

"Thank you. It was my pleasure," both his lips disappeared. It was like he was putting them away so they wouldn't try to kiss her or he was trying not to say something.

"What?" Cherie laughed.

"Old lady Belle said you came up here for the solitude, that you wanted to be alone," he said.

"So?"

"You messed up, didn't you? I mean, everybody in town is talking about you," he smiled.

"They'll forget about me tomorrow," she smiled back.

"I won't. Well, Good night, My Dear," he imitated Dr. Walter Bramley.

"Oh God! I was going to kiss you good night until you sounded like him!" she stepped inside and closed the door.

"I'll never do it again," he promised and knocked softly until she opened the door.

The kiss lasted until dawn. She kept telling herself it was just one night. He told himself the same thing.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: FAT ROCK AND TENDERFOOT

"She's going to love this. She's a lucky girl. You have good taste," Alice assured Lewis Masterson that he had made an excellent choice. Lewis could have told her that it was a replacement for a blood soaked sweater, so "lucky" was hardly applicable.

"I hope so," Lewis was agreeable. He watched the clerk lovingly fold the blush pink sweater, nestle it in tissue paper and then place it in a foil gift box stamped: "Marmee's Fashion Boutique". Marmee's was the only shop within 30 miles that sold delicate clothing. The clothing available at Ray Moon's Market was heavy and rugged, denim, fur, wool and leather.

Lewis showed up on Cherie's porch without calling her first. He was wearing a white cowboy hat that was comical because it was too small for his head. It was 9:00 pm. Cherie answered in her robe and flannel pajamas.

"I know you had a rough day. I just wanted to check in on you and take you to the hospital if you haven't regained your strength.  If I called, you'd just say you were ok. I had to see your face and I wanted to give you something to cheer you up. Can I put these in water for you?" Lewis showed her a bouquet of roses and the package from Marmee's.

"Come in. I can finally say I've 'single-handedly' done things," Cherie nervously laughed at her own joke.

"Have you single-handedly eaten dinner yet?" Lewis smiled and answered for her, "I didn't think so. How about a thick, juicy, steak? Get dressed. I'm taking you to Fat Rock for the best steak you ever had in your life. It's just three miles from here on North Apple Road. They also have the best country western music in the area."

Cherie emerged from her bedroom wearing a white fringe cowgirl shirt with pearl snap buttons, a baby-blue plaid a-line skirt and tan leather cowgirl boots. It occurred to her that she might never be able to remove her boots single-handedly.

"Nice hat," she said frowning at him. "Are you going to wear that hat all night?"

"It's yours, silly. Mine is in the car. It's black, of course. Yours is from Marmee's. This is from Marmee's too. Open it." Lewis put the hat on her head. It fit.

"This is very nice. Thank you, Lewis," Cherie admired the sweater.

"I didn't want you to have to slave single-handedly trying to get the blood stains out of the one you wore today, seeing as how blood makes you faint. You should just throw it away, you big sissy," Lewis helped her with her coat and locked her front door for her, since the hand she had injured was her left hand and from his observations, she was left-handed.

Cherie enjoyed her meal at the Fat Rock Steakhouse very much. Lewis got up to buy her a pack of her brand of cigarettes from the machine at the entrance to the Tenderfoot Saloon where most patrons went for cocktails before and after dinner. The manager of the establishment grabbed Lewis by the arm to find out what was up.

"Something wrong with your steak tonight? I usually have to wrestle you for the bone so you don't wolf it down and injure yourself," the manager studied Lewis' face for clues.

"I think I'm in love," Lewis shocked the manager with his honesty.

"Not you!" the manager was astonished.

"I'm gonna die. I don't want to be in love. She doesn't want to be in love. It's not our style. We're gonna die." Lewis shook his head and walked back to their table.

"They have a good band tonight. Let's grab a brandy. I promise to get you home before midnight," Lewis took her arm and guided her to the dance floor. They sipped brandy and the band kept playing slow songs. The manager sent the band a note instructing them to finish out the night with slow songs. The Masterson family were good customers and Fat Rock took good care of them.

Cherie knew she couldn't stop what was happening. It was like the day they went tube riding in the snow, only the heat was rising from his chest and sending a constant stream of warm air under her chin this time. She might faint again, but for a different reason. This was dangerous. She shouldn't be doing this. Her throat hurt. Her lungs felt like they were collapsing. It was the worst thing that could happen to a fugitive, chancing upon the love of your life like this.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: THE BLEEDING HAND

Benjamin Baker couldn't believe his eyes. She popped her front tire on the curb turning in to the station too fast and too soon. Cherie got out of her car and was walking towards him with an uneven gait. She was covered in blood. Her hand was wrapped in a rag.

"I need to buy a first aid kit. Cut myself shaving," Cherie made an attempt to chuckle but when she raised her hand to indicate to Ben where she was hurt, the rag slipped down enough for her to see the cut. The sight of her bleeding hand made her woozy. Ben caught her before she hit the asphalt.

"Jesus! She fainted! Mike! I'm gonna run her over to Alpendorf's. Dr. Bramley's limo is there!"

"Dr. Bramley is a shrink. What's he gonna do? Ben? You aren't actually going to RUN her over there?" Mike scratched his head at the odd sight of Benjamin running down Appleblossom Highway with the girl in his arms.  It looked nutty but it probably was faster than getting her around back to his car. He was half way there already. Ben didn't spare the energy to yell back to Mike that Dr. Bramley had a pharmacy in his trunk, that he'd seen it when he was checking the spare tire. There was enough medication in there to knock out everybody on the mountain, not that Cherie needed knocking out.

"Jesus Cherie, what happened to you?" Ben wondered if she was as light as she felt in his arms. She was like cotton candy. Maybe he was in shock and that made her feel weightless. Ben hated himself for noticing how great she looked in her Jordache jeans. God she was beautiful. He wanted to kiss her.

"Dr. Bramley is getting his bag from his car. Put her on the sofa in the lobby. What have you done to this girl, Benjamin, you oaf!" Edda met them at the door. Mike called her.

Bramley checked her vitals. He disinfected the wound, injected around it to deaden it and stitched it together. He was a medical doctor before he became a psychiatrist. He didn't feel the need to explain to anyone why he carried the amount of medical supplies that he did.

"Glass or metal, my dear?" Bramley asked Cherie when she came around.

"What?" she wasn't sure what he meant.

"Did you cut yourself on glass or metal?"

"Metal," Cherie answered.

"I'm going to give you a tetanus shot so you don't get lock jaw, my dear," Dr. Bramley prepared the needle.

"Why type of metal cut you?" Dr. Bramley asked as he injected her in the upper arm.

"I was opening a can of chili," Cherie lied. 

"Well, I think we should get you to the hospital just to be on the safe side.  You probably need an IV or two," Dr. Bramley began putting his equipment back in his medical bag. He knew she wasn't telling the truth and the look on his face made it clear to her that he didn't believe her for a minute.

"Thank you doctor but that won't be necessary.  How much do I owe you?" she suddenly realized her purse was back at the house. She'd taken off without it.

"Nonsense, my dear. You were out cold. You must have lost a lot of blood," Bramley insisted.

"Dr. Bramley, I can assure you it wasn't the amount of blood. I fainted because I simply cannot stand the sight of blood. A drop is enough to drop me. I'm afraid I'm a bit of a sissy that way," she tried to be charming but she simply could not stand Bramley. There was something oppressive about him.

"Well then, if you won't go to the hospital, I insist upon your having dinner with me. I'm assuming you didn't eat any of that chili that attacked you. We'll get some food and fluids into you and if your color comes back, you're free to go," Dr. Bramley pressed the matter.

"Cherie! Everybody is waiting for you. We knew something happened when you didn't show up. Dad sent me out to fetch you. Mike said Ben brought you here. Thanks for patching her up doc. Come on Cherie, let's go! Everybody is starving! Dinner's getting cold and we're not going to cut the cake without you," Lewis appeared out of nowhere and whisked Ben and Cherie away. Dr. Bramley didn't ask Cherie why she was bothering to open a can of chili if she was on her way to a party. There was no time to ask her. Lewis had Cherie in one arm and Ben in the other. He was a fast talker and a fast walker.

Cherie sat between Lewis and Ben in Ben's car. Once they were on the road they all burst out laughing. There was no cake. No party. Lewis just jumped in and made it all up. He'd seen Cherie's car up on the grease rack at Ray Moon's. Mark patched the tire, checked the steering and even cleaned the blood from the door and steering wheel. He told Lewis what had happened.

"I know what kind of fluids Bramley wanted to get into you," Ben groaned.

"That is so disgusting!" Cherie winced.

"Ben, you drive Cherie's car to her house and I'll drive you back to the station." Lewis suggested.

"Thanks for rescuing me, both of you," Cherie sighed. If she had to chose between rescues, she'd rather bleed to death than have dinner with the overbearing doctor. Ben could sense that Cherie was more grateful to Lewis that she was to him. He felt low as he drove her car to her house and even lower when he rode back to Ray Moon's with Lewis. He was going to lose her to Lewis and Lewis didn't even really want her. 

When Ben's shift was over he didn't throw his work shirt in the laundry hamper. He changed into his street clothes and stole the shirt with Cherie's blood on it. If anybody noticed one of his uniforms was missing, he'd just say he threw it away because the blood had ruined it. Nobody would find fault with that.

~ To Be Continued~

APPLE ROAD: BEFORE THE FIRE AND SNOW

Two weeks before the first snow of the season, before the fire that destroyed George and Marilyn's second hand furniture store, Cherie Solange appeared with everything she owned packed in her VW Bug.

She bought a cute green and red apple-shaped salt and pepper set and a copy of the local paper at the Alpendorf Gift Shop and had pancakes and scrambled eggs at the Alpendorf Cafe And Bakery. She was on her second cup of coffee when she found an affordable rental listed in the real estate section. Sixty dollars a month for a house, furniture and utilities included.

She had to stop and buy a local map at Ray Moon's gas station and market because she couldn't find Margaret Fayette Belle's place on any of her road maps.

"Do you know where Margaret Fayette Belle's place is?" Cherie asked the young gas station attendant who was checking her oil and filling her tank.

"Huh?" The attendant had to think a minute. "Oh, you mean Old Lady Belle. She owns more property up here than anyone else, except God. The main way people get lost is mixing up Apple Road with Appleblossom Highway. Once you're on Apple Road you take it on up this way till it ends. If you take Apple Road the other way till it ends, you'll end up at the monastery. There's a chain gate you don't need a key for but close it anyway because it irks her if you don't. Then follow the dirt road till it runs out right in front of her place. She'll be there. She don't go out much anymore. She sends her driver Willy Weeks out for everything she needs. That's him over there loading her groceries in that goddamn limousine. Just wait and follow him up to her place. He won't mind."

"Thank you. You've been very helpful," Cherie felt like this was her lucky day.

"Anytime. My name is Ben. Next time you come in you're gonna need a quart of oil. You're good to go now though," Ben smiled at her. She was the prettiest girl he'd seen in a long while.

Cherie followed Willy Weeks to the end of Apple Road. They spoke when he got out to open the chain gate.

"You up here to see Miss Belle about the rental?" Willy nodded politely to acknowledge Cherie's presence. 

"Yes. Yes I am." Cherie answered.

"Drive on up ahead of me. I'll close the gate for you. It's heavy as hell. I don't know why she won't let me put up a new one. It's just her way. It's how she is."

"Thank you, Sir," Cherie nodded back.

"Oh, no need to "Sir" me. Just call me Will," he knew she'd end up calling him Willy because that's what Belle called him, but it was worth a try.

"Thank you, Will," She got back in her car and drove up the winding dirt road.

Cherie rented the little wooden railroad house sight unseen. She told Miss Belle that she was interested in the solitude the area provided because she dreamed of becoming a writer.

"Well, then you're going to need a desk. The house comes furnished with a kitchen table but you need a proper desk if you're going to be a writer." Miss Belle opened a drawer in her desk and pulled out a ream of paper and plopped in on her desktop. "Here is my contribution to your career, Miss Solange. I'll have Willy help you with the desk."

"Oh, that won't be necessary. You've been too kind already," Cherie held the ream of paper to her heart to express her gratitude.

"Willy! I'll put the groceries up! You help Miss Solange get a good deal on a desk at George and Marilyn's. They don't pay anything for half their inventory, so don't let them charge you more than twenty five dollars." Miss Belle hollered.

"How are you going to see where to put the groceries up, Miss Belle, with them big old cataracts of yours?" Willy hollered back.

"Don't sass me! I'm not blind yet and you know it. Bring the truck around and help Miss Solange or I'll fire you. You're too ugly to get a job anywhere else. You'll starve to death!" Miss Belle winked at Cherie. "At our age bickering is the only exercise we get. We can't go jogging like you young folks. Willy will follow you to your new home. Here are your keys. After you see the place and lock up, he'll take you to George and Marilyn's to pick out a desk. Get something with character, something Ernest Hemingway or Mark Twain would like."

There was barely room to walk in George and Marilyn's APPLE OF YOUR EYE home furnishing shop. There was a narrow winding path that you could not see the ending to. It was like a hedge maze only it was made of furniture stacked on top of furniture all the way to the ceiling.

"Is anybody here!" Willy shouted.

"Out back!" George shouted, "We are unloading the truck!"

Cherie and Willy walked around to the back of the store where George and Marilyn were fretting over their latest load of treasures. Immediately they were struck by the sight of a roll-top desk perched on the edge of the truck, gilded by the golden orange light of the late afternoon sun. They looked at it and then at each other.

"It's too expensive," Cherie whispered.

"No it's not. It's twenty five dollars. There's probably four more just like it buried in that rat's nest. It's fate that this one is just ripe for the picking. George isn't going to bicker with Miss Belle. Half the stuff in his store probably comes from her rentals anyway," Willy whispered back.

Willy had the two wheeler in his truck to easily move the desk into Cherie's house. 

"Well, if anything goes wrong with the plumbing or electric call the house and we'll take care of it. The phone works. Miss Belle pays for all the utilities. Rent is due on the first. Keep the garbage locked in the shed so it don't attract bears. The garbage collector has a key. Good night now, Miss Cherie," Willy closed up his truck.

"Good night, Will. Please thank Miss Belle again for me," Cherie waived from her porch.

"One down and everybody else to go," Willy couldn't help but smile as he drove away. She remembered. She called him Will.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: THE ALPENDORF ON APPLEBLOSSOM HIGHWAY

"Those two need their heads examined," Dr. Walter Bramley muttered when Edda set down his hot red cabbage salad and another mug of beer.

The widow Edda Heidelbeere ran the Alpendorf Lodge for over twenty years and some of the locals swore she only had one expression on her face the entire time. Her husband Dagoberto used to provide the musical entertainment but passed away fourteen years ago. Their son Jarvis followed in his father's footsteps and was on the small stage warbling out a tune. On the dance floor, George Gude was mopping the floor with his wife Marilyn. Dagoberto's handicapped brother Gottfried, the groundskeeper for the Alpendorf, was standing near the kitchen watching them, waiting for Edda to return from the doctor's table.

"You are the doctor. Examine them," Edda said dryly.

"I don't want my salad to get cold," Dr. Bramley mumbled.

George and Marilyn had made it their New Year's resolution to dance at the Alpendorf Tavern every Sunday night so they would lose weight. The trouble was they could not resist the chocolate cherry cake and had a weakness for the Pilsner as well. As a matter of fact, on many occasions they were in no shape to drive home so Edda would put them up in the main lodge or in one of the six surrounding cabins.

The Gude's lived in an apartment above their business, "The Apple Of Your Eye", which sold used home furnishings that often had a dubious past. They took joy in finding treasures in the garbage.  They would drive thirty miles to the city and troll the alleys the night before the garbage trucks were due. For example, if they found bricks and slabs of gorgeous marble on a side street where a new bank was being built, they convinced themselves that if it was in the alley, it was garbage and they could load it into their truck.

"Should I prepare a room for them or offer to take them somewhere in the limo?" Gottfried asked Edda.

"What are you talking about? They don't look so bad tonight," Edda looked at them harder.

"They will. That siren, it was the fire engine. The chief is on his way over to tell them their place is burnt to the ground," Gottfried limped back into his office.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD: RAY MOON'S MARKET

Ray Moon's Market at the intersection of Appleblossom Highway and Apple Road was the hub of activity for residents as well as tourists. He sold picnic supplies, sporting goods, clothing, gasoline and groceries.

Cherie tracked mud into the store then stood before the clerk like the wolf frozen by her headlights.

"What can I do for you?" the clerk asked.

Cherie stared at him. She didn't know him. She didn't really know anyone. She was going to ask to use the store phone to report the hand she'd seen but suddenly it seemed like a foolish idea. How did she know the clerk wasn't the killer? Where would she go after the sheriff started asking her questions she didn't want to answer? She'd have to move. Where to? Right now she blended in. No one knew her. She had a job. She had a place to stay. If she reported the hand, all that would instantly change.

"Can I get somethin' for ya?" the clerk asked again.

"I forgot my wallet. Sorry." she turned and left the market.

Cherie spent the next few hours chain smoking in her tiny wooden house that once had been owned by the railroad. It was hard to stop thinking about the gruesome stories Skipper told earlier that day about a killer who had never been captured and probably moved on to another state. 

She shuddered remembering Lewis's arms around her when she sat in his lap in the tire tube. The once comforting memory of his body heat radiating up the back of her neck now sent chills down her spine. Anyone of them could be the killer. 

She would regain her equilibrium before it was morning. She would show up at work as if nothing had happened.

"We better get some sleep," she said out loud to herself.

~ To Be Continued ~

APPLE ROAD

She was coming down the mountain early. It was fixing to snow again soon. Cherie Solange didn't have snow chains for her VW Bug yet. Her co-workers were still up there drinking beer and tube riding, annoying the hell out of skiers. She cranked up the car radio and sang along with BOSTON'S: "More Than A Feeling".

When she came to the end of the ski resort road she couldn't remember which way to turn on Apple Road so she pulled over, lit a cigarette and dug around in the glove box for the map. She was new to the area. What passed for civilization was seven miles ahead. There were no houses out here, no gas stations, just one spooky, termite eaten, rusty rest stop that no one in their right mind would use.

A strong gust of wind slapped the side of her car. It wasn't day or night. The light was eerie.  The car radio crackled. She turned the dial to find a clear signal and stopped at THE OUTLAWS singing: "Hurry Sundown". 

"Let's get out of here," she said to herself. She put the map back and turned on the headlights. 

A wolf stopped in the middle of the road, startled by her lights.  It dropped what it had in it's mouth and just stood frozen for a moment. She craned to make sure she saw what she saw. Maybe she'd had too many beers. Maybe the stories Skipper told while they were all jumping up and down around the fireless firepit eating the cold fried chicken Tina made the night before had gotten to her.

"Skipper thinks it's his job to scare the shit out of the new employees," Craig, the bosses youngest son told her.

"Tell her how he got the nickname 'Skipper'", Lewis said with his mouth full.

"Not while we're eating!" Tina cried out.

"My face is frozen! I can't chew!" Craig could hardly pronounce words correctly anymore with his frozen lips.

"There's a chicken thief on the slopes! I know I made more chicken than this! Who took the other container of chicken?" Tina exclaimed.

"Ranger Resnik!" Skipper suggested.

"Oh, he gives me the creeps. He's so, ah..." Tina started.

"Creepy." Skipper finished the frozen sentence for her.

Cherie wished she'd stayed for one more tube ride, but she lost her tube. And Lewis, the boss's oldest son was flirting with her. At least that was what she reckoned he was doing when he took her flying across the path of skiers coming down the slope. Suddenly he wrapped her three foot long braided pony tail around his fist and hollered to her that they were going to bail just seconds before their tube flew over a steep cliff.

"Ooops," Lewis said as the two of them watched the inner tube glide through sky for what seemed like an awfully long time. When it finally touched earth Lewis said that they could go get it but it would be three, maybe four hours of hiking through rugged territory. Six or eight hours there and back and they'd need snow shoes and camping equipment in case they got lost.

"Or I could buy you a new tube," he offered.

She knew better than to get involved with the boss's son and she didn't have snow chains. So she left early and here she was.

The wolf regained his composure and picked up the hand.  It was definitely a hand. It was a female hand.

~ To Be Continued ~