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The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton   The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House 1     The magazine ad said people could exchange houses for an indefinite period and enjoy the advantages of living far from home. Between an unfinished demitasse of espresso and the slow slender strokes of the artist's brush, Mattie shuffled beneath her studio's frosty wire mesh ceiling, and gently held the magazine's glossy cover. New England Life's photographs possessed depth and perspective. In her thoughts she approached the arched entrance of a red covered bridge in Vermont, as a fast moving stream gurgled below. But John was not with her as she pretended to amble through the bridge's darkened corridor to the yellow maples on the far side. She had come to despise John, dreading his return from extended business trips, his predilection with sports and gambling, and his simple neglect.   She lifted the slender cup to her thin lips and sipped the liquid perfection. With her long smooth fingers, smeared with okra and crimson acrylic, she turned the newly printed magazine pages; the articles read and reread. She had scrutinized each rural picture since the magazine's arrival yesterday afternoon and longed for a new perspective from parched, dry Arizona and her absent husband.   EXCHANGE HOUSE, an 1850's house with farmer's porch, restored to the simplicity of another era. Located in rural Rexford, Maine on twenty-five acres of spreading woodland, a rock cliff ocean view, and hiking trails. Owners will arrange house exchange for indefinite periods of time. Details to be arranged.     Mattie checked a New York area code and penciled the numbers across the envelope for John's subscription to Corporate Maneuvers, a publication he claimed was essential to his business activities. She smiled and shook her head. Sometimes she wished he were dead or at the minimum, gone. All the nights spent at home, anticipating his calls from some distant part of the country or the world, waiting for his infrequent airport arrivals, had accumulated into a heavy burden. Maine was light years from Phoenix and John.   She reached for the slim, white phone atop the wide screen TV, pushed her lips together and punched in Deborah's number in Tempe. Deborah would have an opinion about a trip alone to Maine. The line clicked and rolled over loudly as the Tempe line always did.   A young voice shot out a quick greeting through gum popping. 1

The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton  " Good morning, Blaze Cuts, a Unisex Hair Cutting Salon."   " I would like to speak with Deborah Raynes please."   The phone dropped, probably onto the white and black tiled floor, and loud bass pounded through the salon's speakers she remembered were above mirrored walls. Mattie's short, rusty hair was shaped perfectly by her college friend just ten days ago. Deborah said bright aqua eyes should not be buried in a dead bird's nest.   " Deborah Raynes."   " It's me."   " Well, I have to say you have perfect timing. I just finished six seniors ready for class pictures. In August, can you believe it? Did we have our class pictures taken in August?"   Mattie's upper lip curled as she thought back to a younger time before John. Her friend's animated manner, such a contrast to her own sedate ways, enlivened Mattie. " August, yes. It was August. But then again, that was fifteen years ago, D.R."   " Was it? Oh, God, we're becoming ancient. When are you coming back, Mattie? John must be out of town, again."   " He sent me roses."   " His calling card."   John was out of town again, a swing through northern Califor-nia to open new corporate accounts, but promised to return for the weekend.   " John will fit me into his schedule starting Saturday morning."   " Drop him, kid."   " I took a break and was looking through New England Life."   " Another again. Mattie, why don't you just plan a trip to New England? You always wanted to go to the place. Hell, you've never been east of the Mississippi."   " True. There's a certain ad that allows you to exchange your home for a beautiful old house from the eighteen hundreds." Mattie looked down at the ad. " They don't specify a time period or limitation on the arrangement." 2

The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton   Deborah yelled something back to one of the girls in the salon and then her voice swung back in a higher volume. " I think that is a perfect arrangement. Go... alone."   Deborah's words were exactly the words she wanted to hear. " I just might, but I worry about John."   " I'd worry, too. Who knows what he does on the road?"   " John is devoted to business or finding the odds on the next NFL game. He hasn't got time for women."   " A man always has time for women, especially if he's away. Forget about him sending you yellow roses. You go up to Maine. Stay there for a month if you have to. Maybe that will smarten him up. John is a self-centered pig."   " But how do you really feel about him, D.R.?"   " You call Maine and let me know how you made out."   " Okay."   " Talk to you later, Mattie."   Mattie slowly set the phone back into the cradle and lifted the glossy magazine upward. A rural house with a farmer's porch, overlook-ing a rocky cliff in Maine was spread across the center pages. In another month, the trees would be vivid with color along those hiking trails and she could almost hear the ocean waves crashing against the worn rocky extrusions. She checked the long distance number, lifted the phone to her ear and dialed. 3

The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton        2     John arrived exactly when he said he would arrive, at nine-thirty on Saturday morning. His red tie, gold initialed clasp perfectly in place, matched his suspenders, and was flawlessly looped over his unwrinkled white shirt. The early breakfast meeting in Bakersfield must have left him chipper as he strutted boldly up the terminal ramp. When he caught sight of Mattie, he swung the overnight bag over his right shoulder, tightened the cheek muscles and broke into a run. 	The routine was the exactly same at every arrival. She would tuck her head quickly into his chest and he would tell her how much he missed her. Yet, within forty-eight hours he would be back to his pugnacious world of new accounts, budgets, and sales quotas, and reachable only through voice mail. Mattie had left the magazine on the front seat of her sports car, but unsure when she would tell him she was going to Maine alone. * * *     She resented the way he would take over her car, racing onto the freeway, while she listened to what great things he had accomplished during his trip. The magazine, open to the Exchange House ad, was gripped tightly within her sweaty hands as John wove her car through the sparse freeway traffic. He alluded to playing a few rounds of golf when they passed the luscious, eighteen hole spread. The club only represented more time away.   " I painted a magnificent sunset this week. Over the desert. I modeled it after the Frederic Church's painting, The Twilight in the Wilderness."   " Had a good week, did you? I know some corporate people who have connections to market art work. I'll make a call when we get in." He handed her a wad of bills from his pocket.   " What's this, more money from a poker game?"   " I always say it doesn't matter where money comes from as long as you have it in your hand."   Mattie winced and squinted her eyes over the city buildings, bright in the morning light. Again, she looked down over glossy page, adjusting for the glare. As John talked on the cell phone about betting on some preseason game, she wished things were different. In another realm she fancied herself in bed with him at this distant house, looking out the window at the heightened fall leaves near the blue ocean. At the same time, solitude in the exact same setting meant no complications or demands. 4

The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton     The car jolted and tire rubber scraped the concrete. Mattie hoped he had not seen her wince. John pushed the remote and the front bronzed, aluminum gate electronical-ly swung open. He shifted and moved along the fabricated stonewall garden. Everything was precisely where he had planned it and the landscapers had placed it. When he stopped abruptly at the terrace garage, Mattie knew exactly what he would say next.   " Good to be home. Damned good to be home."  * * *     Mattie opened the bathroom's pastel green louver door. In his blue boxer shorts and propped on several pillows, John clicked the remote between a fast paced soccer game and a lazy West Coast night baseball game in Seattle. He slowly turned, exposing his straight bright teeth, as she tightened her white silk robe. " You were great, Matt." Then he switched to a preseason football game.   " Thank you." Mattie glanced at a red tailed hawk in flight over the starry early morning skies on the back cover of New England Life. She shared the bird's quest for the open space freedom, pursing her lips slightly as John channel surfed past three movies, an interesting older classic and ended back at Seattle baseball game.   " These guys have a damned good team. I like them."   " Seattle?"   " No, Mattie, where have you been? Baltimore... The phone rang and he picked it up immediately. " John Summers. Yeah, no, no, you're not disturbing me, Harland." He stood and walked the phone over to the side table near the slider drapes.   She rolled her eyes and removed her robe and slippers. As she slid across the soft sheets, he flipped on the hanging wicker shade lamp and sat down. He never got away from business. She watched helplessly as he plugged in his laptop and data sheets soon filled the screen readout. Company figures and statistics stood like soldiers at attention across the screen as the sportscaster's velvet voice spewed forth colorful stories and a rundown of major league box scores. She grabbed the remote and found the black and white film noire from forty years ago.   " No, Harland. I see a fifty-two percent gain in that account. Right, we've got the bastard."   Mattie furrowed her brow, slapped the remote on his side of the bed and stood. She crossed the plush alabaster rug in her bare feet and retrieved the magazine. Once in bed she stole his pillows and lay down with her long legs over the folded quilt. She propped the magazine on her stomach. For fifteen minutes she visited every brightly colored New England shot and stopped at ocean pictures of lighthouses photographed against inflated cumulus puffs along Maine's rocky coast. Her anger and resent-ment whirled out of control. She clenched her fists at sound of John's clicking keyboard and slapped the magazine against the sheets.   5

The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton     " John." John's head snapped away from the screen and he raised his index finger. " No, John. The conference call is over, damn it!"   " Mattie," he said, turning down the corners of his mouth. He shook his head at her as if she were some aberrant little schoolgirl. " Harland, you're not disturbing anything. Right. Yes, we would enjoy having dinner with Mrs. Hynes. Let's set a date. Sure."   Mattie crawled over the bed like an annoyed lioness and swung around the table. She pinched the laptop's phone connector in her fingers and quickly pulled it from the jac. John's screen went blank. His eyes opened abruptly as if someone had died. She smiled, holding the connector in her hand. " Your plug has been pulled."   " Ah, Harland, I seem to have had some line problems here. Listen, why don't we check the Texas accounts in the morning. Sure. Say seven-thirty? Right. And you have a productive night now." He set down the phone and his strong facial muscles wrapped around his high cheekbones as he thrust out his jaw. His speech was stilted. " Just... what... the hell do you think... you're doing?"   " You can pull the plug on the laptop, John or pull the plug on this marriage."   " That's a little extreme, wouldn't you say, Mattie?"   " Don't talk about extreme, John. You spend more time sweet talking Harland than you do me, although I have to be more convenient for you."   John stared at her and said nothing. Aware of his violent temper, she was not sure what he would do. He lowered his head, shot toward the liquor cabinet and poured amber liquor into a tall glass. He gulped most of it and looked into the glass as he spoke. " You enjoyed it."   " Yeah, I enjoyed it, but I have to plan for it. Stick it in your schedule. Pay attention will you, John? You're always away. Oh, you send your roses all the time, but that doesn't cut it."   He lifted the remaining liquor to his lips and poured it down his throat. Then he slammed the glass on the silver tray. " Hey, I support that studio of yours downtown. I had this spread out here built. You have the pool, Mattie, you have the grounds and the mega house."   " But I don't have you, do I?"   His body tensed, he lunged and squeezed her arm. The hatred in his steel cold eyes shook her. She had crossed the line with him and she knew it. Maybe she wanted to cross the line and provide herself the cover she needed for Maine. " Don't you ever interfere with my business calls..." The tightness in his jaw eased, but he continued to grip her arm. " Or you will regret it, Mattie. I'll make you regret it."   He released her arm, leaving a red band of trailing pressure points across her skin. Seconds later, he had on his pants and had thrown over a jersey as he carried his sneakers downstairs. With moistened eyes and mouth open, Mattie shuffled to the bedroom window and pulled the louver back as John trotted down the slate walk to the lower garage.   6

The House Series Mysteries: Exchange House Robert P. Fitton   " Go ahead, John. Bail out... This is one account you've lost."   The garage door slowly rumbled upward and her car started. He skidded, probably deliberately, down the concrete, somehow opening the front gate, and then he spun the tires down the road.   Mattie lingered at the open window for fifteen minutes, staring at the stars over the desert and the lights in the darkness away from the city. He would not return soon and she did not want him back. She moved back, her throat tight, and plodded down the cold back stairs to the kitchen. Goose bumps covered her bare skin and she felt as if his hand still encircled her arm. In darkness, she opened the lower sliders and turned on the pool's underwater lights. She removed her nightie and let it fall to the tiles. The cooler air invigorated her soft exposed skin. She walked over the concrete and placed her feet on the shiny blue tiles. This feeling of being alone was not so bad. Then she dove into pool's warm water, swam below the surface and cleansed her body as she tried to forget she had ever met him.      3     On a clear October day, designer sunglasses shading her eyes, Mattie drove a sputtering red compact with marginal brakes, up the winding two-lane highway near Rexford. A faint cigarette odor lingered, and although she found no ashes in the tray, she kept the window cracked. The engine did not approach the power of her Mercedes and any car complaints only contributed a creeping anxiety; the accumulated result of sleepless nights and a failed marriage. The barrage of color lining State Highway 102 to Rexford masked her somber mood, but the cooler air brought in a variety of new scents, including the lure of breakfast from roadside restaurants and pervasive chimney smoke, hanging in the burgeoning sunlight. Fog pockets sunk into glens across the undulating countryside's colored popcorn trees. Home Page Unimited Annual Access to all Fitton e-books and PODCAST Episodes $ 6.99 © 2000 - 2007 Fitton Books. All rights reserved.

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The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton   The House Series Mysteries: Beach House   1     Ospreys kill often and effectively. Mary Ellen tracked the bird with the binoculars as it swooped from the sky, tucked its tainted wings inward and pointed its head at the Chesapeake. In an unex-pected move, it thrust its cutting talons into the water and skimmed the surface. Somewhere below the sunlit waves an unsuspecting creature was removed instantly from the ocean environs. With something now firmly caught in its clutches, the powerful fish hawk lifted its prey toward the scattered clouds. The bird flipped the sea-water from its feathers and transported the kill in the direction of the distant tree tops along Binghampton Beach.   Mary Ellen swung the binoculars to the beach house. Su Lee was a woman unafraid to do anything to satisfy her own needs. Tony was home alone and the edge of Su Lee's orange sports car was visi-ble near the beach house garage. She lowered the binoculars, but quickly raised them again. Binghampton Beach appeared shaky un-der the scratchy cloud puffs, but she steadied her hands. Away from breakers, rock piled jetties, and the silhouetted town buildings, Ha-zelton Hill came into focus. The multilevel gray contemporary she and Tony bought last summer was nestled within a twisted thicket leading down to the dock.   " Damn her."   She checked the kids; yellow life preservers draped over their shoulders and backpacks at their feet. Across the deck Danny was wedged between Angie and Shane at the boat railing. Mary Ellen let the binoculars dangle around her neck as she closed her eyes. All the rumors about Tony meeting Su Lee at Barnacle Bill's Tavern con-verged within the tightness now enveloping her throat. She opened her moist eyes, raised her hands over her mouth and looked away from the diminishing shore to the deep blue stretch of Chesapeake Bay. 1

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton   Mary Ellen, are you all right?" asked Wilma.   Mary Ellen flashed a quick phony smile as her short, red haired friend hurried across deck. " Wilma, getting sea sick already?"   " I saw you checking. What did you see?"   " Listen, we're off to Sabines Island. Let's enjoy it."   " She wasn't there, was she?"   She eyed the kids and gripped the moist starboard railing.   " My God, it's all true."   " Are you sure?"   Mary Ellen kept talking as she peered at the vanishing land-mass across the rippled water. " I saw the car. That stupid orange sports car."   " She's got nerve."   " I could think of another word." Mary Ellen grit her teeth. " I can play her game. I'll fix her wagon, the little tramp."   " How?"   She pressed her lips and shook her head. " I don't know... I just don't know."  * * *     The trees and white sand beaches formed like a downloading web page along the Sabines Island shoreline. Mary Ellen smiled as Kel, having replaced his Hazelton security guard uniform with jeans and red sweatshirt, played charades with the kids in front of the blue vinyl deck chairs. For a few minutes she forgot her husband was home painting the house while the car of a shapely twenty-three year old female bartender from the Barnacle Bill's was parked in the front driveway.  " Mom, this game is dumb," said Danny, kicking a discarded soda can down the deck.   " Pick it up, young man."   " I didn't put it down there."   She raised her brows. Danny rolled his eyes, grunted and headed after the can. Slowly her expression vanished as she scanned the horizon back to Binghampton Beach. Images of Su Lee's, sweep-ing dark hair swaying across her tight, well toned, body and red string bikini, converged in Mary Ellen's head. On the beach Tony had cast more than a fleeting glance at her small rounded buttocks. Mary Ellen crushed her hands together when she transposed those thoughts into her second floor master bedroom.   " Mary Ellen? Mary Ellen, you there?" Kel's curly steel hair protruded under the edges of his black and orange Oriole's hat. His green eyes were laced like brown marbleized veins. " You look like you're million miles away." 2

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton    " I wish I was, Kel."   " What's the matter?"   She shook her head. " Same old, same old."   He flexed his well worn crow's peaks and rolled his tongue around his unshaven cheek. " You're not starting that Su Lee thing again."   " Yes, and this time I have proof."   " Really?" She did not like the serious look in his eyes. " I apologize. Maybe I was too graphic about her."   " You were quite explicit about her attraction to men," said Mary Ellen.   " I think we have to give Tony a little more credit. She's only twenty-three. He's got ten years on her."   " Kel, you told me she had a... what did you say? Nefarious background?"   " Well, yeah, but-"   " Her car was parked in front of the beach house garage. She doesn't waste any damn time."   Kel's ground his teeth together as if he were chewing gum.   " Can I use your binoculars?"   " Forget it," she said, folding her arms across her sweatshirt.   " We're too far out now. I already looked. What do you really know about her?"   " Like I said, she's got a reputation." Kel waved to Angie and Shane. Both her daughters produced identical expressions bordering on irritation and friendship.   Mary Ellen held his wrist. " Kel, I just told you the little tramp is parked in my driveway. What else do you know about her?"   " Not important. This may be just an innocent thing. I can't see Tony getting involved with her. He loves you and the kids."   " Right... She's in the driveway the minute we board the boat to Sabines Island."   " I'm may be an old cop from Buffalo, Mary Ellen, but I do know that until you investigate something, your impressions about what it might be&ldots; can be completely bogus."   Mary Ellen looked across the bay, but pictured the beach house over the horizon line. " Or impressions might be right on the mark." 3

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton     2     For a third time Mary Ellen pounded the beach house number into the dock pay phone. When they had arrived on Sabines Island she tried reaching Tony, but only heard her own voice on the counter answering machine. " You have reached the Frescos by the sea. Please leave a message and we'll get right back to you. Thank you."   At the picnic area Kel and Wilma finished the lunch she had packed earlier this morning when Tony was already outside swatting his paint brush across the outside paneling. Why did he decide to paint the beach house himself? His position Omicron commanded a salary well into six figures. The machine beeped. She spoke in a clear and firm voice. " Tony, please pick up the phone. I didn't bring the cellular. Tony.... Tony."   She slammed the phone hard enough to crack the plastic. The blood rushed to her head. She wanted to go back right now and con-front them both. When she opened her eyes Kel approached along the dock and his face still reflected a burgeoning concern.   " Mary Ellen, listen. As a retired cop, why don't you let me look into this?"   " Oh, then you do think something is going on back there? What the hell do I tell my kids? Your dad is making love to some one just eight years older than Shane? Damn him!"   " You don't know that. Let me take care of it."   " I want to go back."   " You can't. The boat won't be back for two hours on the return trip. I would suggest getting your pack and taking the island hike as we originally had planned."   She pinched the bridge of her nose. " Maybe you're right."   " And another thing. I like Wilma, I like her a lot, but I would watch what I say to her. She likes to gab. You don't want this all over Binghampton Beach."   Mary Ellen nodded once and smiled for the first time in ninety minutes. They started down the dock. " I will hire you to find the truth."   " You don't have to hire me... But there's more to this than I've told you."   " What are you talking about?" she asked and they stopped midway on the wooden pier.   " I've lived down here since I retired eight years ago. Being a guard at Hazelton is just enough work and keeps me in contact with people. And I've become pretty friendly with everybody in town. I have my hangouts. And during that time I've developed a composite on Miss Su Lee."   " What are you saying?"   " I have a ton of circumstantial evidence about this woman."   Mary Ellen stared into his green knit eyes. She wondered if Kel merely was concocting theories because he no longer had the chal-lenge of being on the force back in Buffalo. " What exactly are you talking about?"   " Murders." 4

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton     " What? Kel, haven't you taken the actions of this little whore a bit too far? "   He shook his head. " No, there have been two deaths within the last few years. Two that I know about."   " And the police have implicated her?"   " Well, no. I have found certain evidence that links her with what I can only say is murder."   " Oh, come on, Kel. Why are you telling me this now?" She shook her head before he could answer and started down the dock. Now she pictured the sleek little Su Lee brandishing a huge glisten-ing blade as she approached Tony in the outside garden overlooking the bay. Kel was out of line telling her all this. * * *     Mary Ellen's marriage was solid until six months ago when Omicron gave Tony the new position. Flying around the country, implementing new software programs had taken away chunks of time, and left her alone with the kids. All the hours transporting them to school activities and baseball games produced a vacant feel-ing she could not shed. She hiked behind Wilma at the end of a party of fifteen people on the nature tour through Sabines Island's tower-ing forest. Although Tony's absence made her lonely, she never felt threatened by another woman until last Thursday.   " Chesapeake Bay is an Algonquin derivative," said one of the park rangers. He led them along the trail. " It is pronounced Chese-pioc and those of you who enjoy blue crabs and other delights will note this word simply means great shellfish bay. Very original."   Everyone laughed, but Mary Ellen was preoccupied with the situation across the bay. On Thursday night she sent Tony out to Barnacle Bill's for three large pizzas. Even when he was gone close to an hour she was never suspicious and believed his story about chit-chatting with the locals. On Saturday morning she first noticed a young Oriental woman in a red string bikini walking from the or-ange car, parked in the lot across from the town beach. She carried a single white towel and a leather bag was strapped over her shoulder. Not that she exposed more skin than ninety percent of the young things on the beach, but this woman carried herself differently.   Her body had the tone of someone who worked out constantly. Taut, trim muscles fit snug to her arms and legs. Even her solid ab-domen lacked a scintilla of fat. Mary Ellen never remembered being jealous, but only amazed at Su Lee's body. Her slanted dark eyes had an unflappable resiliency and confidence was transmitted into her purposeful gait. She crossed Highway 16 and headed toward the lifeguard station. Tony watched her only when she snapped her buttocks as her hips rocked. Mary Ellen held Tony's arm and yanked him toward their spot up front near the jetty. She had not seen him for ten days and wanted his attention. 5

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton    Five minutes later his eyes tracked Su Lee past the jetty to the marina. Mary Ellen's resentment grew, but not because of pure lust. She sensed something when Su Lee glanced at Tony and a slight smile flashed like a momentary strobe light from her face. When Tony returned an equally surreptitious grin and adjusted his sun-glasses, Mary Ellen first suspected he knew her. And that bold, sen-suous perfume, Night Sin lingered behind her.   Her fears were confirmed when Wilma heard the rumors downtown. One of her friends and family were having dinner in a side booth when Tony arrived at Barnacle Bill's. Su Lee was bar tending and somehow spoke with Tony while he was waiting for the pizzas. Only the social talk extended into a protracted conversation when Tony pulled up a stool, had a few beers and talked to Su Lee as she waited on customers. An hour later he pulled into the beach house driveway. The kids were starved and fighting and Mary Ellen was angry. Tony, in his own diplomatic way, talked his way out of it and within minutes everyone drank Coke and devoured the pizza from the half warmed cardboard boxes. Even Mary Ellen seemed to forget his tardiness.   Tony admitted to speaking with Su Lee and mentioned some-thing about computer software for her brother's roommate in Anna-polis. He even broke down the inventory needs of the roommate's business and Mary Ellen bought the story because she trusted him. Even with his time away she always knew Tony would tell the truth. But the image she had viewed forty-five minutes ago through the binoculars shook her confidence in his credibility.   " Now," said the young blonde assistant along the trail. " You may have heard the theory that the bay was formed by the impact of a large meteorite. That possibility exists because of discoveries of in-dentation on the ocean bottom. More likely the retreat of the glaciers at the end of the last ice age caused sea levels to rise over the ancient Susquehanna River valley."   " Mom, look at this frog," said Danny, thrusting the green slimy amphibian in her face. She leaped back and stayed back. " Can I take him back?"   " What do you think?"   " Oh, that is gross," said Shane, looking at her sister. They both gave the frog and Danny a dirty look.   " I remember catching frogs when I was a kid," said Kel, studying the frog. " Every boy should have the opportunity to catch frogs."  " See," said Danny.   " Right, you've caught him: Now throw him back."   " Okay," he said, smiling.   " He just wanted to show you," said Kel. " The boy wants his mother's approval."   Mary Ellen winced as she watched her son lower the frog back into the small swamp. " What he needs is his father over here telling him how great the frog capture is. This thing is going to hit the fan before Tony flies back to Seattle."   6

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton * * *   Kel insisted she telephone Tony before the boat left for Bing-hampton Beach, but Mary Ellen saw no point in aggravating herself further nor did she wish to call with Su Lee at the house. She would have to confront Tony when she arrived back at the beach house. Although the skies remained sunny, a stiff wind arrived across the bay. Mary Ellen tied a olive kerchief around her straight blonde hair and stood alone as the surf formed a white gurgling wake through the darkening blue waters behind the boat. Away from the others she silently cried as she thought back fifteen years to her wedding day. She was riding in a coach, drawn by two powerful dark horses with braided manes. In the late afternoon light Tony's black hair was longer and almost brushed his white tux. His maroon tie fit perfectly within his standing collar and a fresh pink rose boutonniere was neatly tucked into his lapel.   " You're my princess," he said to the sound of clicking horses.   He kissed her lace glove and she smiled. " I want this to go on forever."   His blue eyes brightened. " It will."   Now she wiped tears with her cold fingers and stared back at Sabines Island, knowing as the island moved farther away, Bing-hampton Beach would get closer. Why would Tony even consider a slut like Su Lee? She was insulted he had not sought someone sophisticated. It made her wonder how he really viewed their relation-ship.   " Mom, are you all right?" asked Shane.   The air froze the tears on her face. " Just a little weepy."   Her oldest daughter hugged her and dried her mother's tears. " Did we do something wrong? I know I was a little flip back in the woods."   " No, it's nothing any of you have done. I have a lot of things on my mind."   " Can I help?"   She inhaled the thick salt air and realized she only had a two hour window before Tony left for Seattle. " Thank you, Shaney. No, I'll be all right."   " You sure?"   " Yup. Are you working tomorrow morning?"   " Don't remind me. After two months of waiting on tables and bringing out breakfasts for people, I'm looking forward to school."   " I guess getting you the job at Binky's was a smart idea."   " A good idea once it's over. Mom, do you need help with sup-per?" she asked.   " We may go out and grab a bite or order pizza. No, I don't want pizza."   " Dad's been working hard painting the house."   Mary Ellen anger churned. " Right. I'm sure your father has taken care of his appetite." 7

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton       3     She brought Eloise out for a walk almost immediately after Kel dropped them off. The Golden Retriever emerged from the garage and Mary Ellen gazed across the gravel driveway to the thick flower beds. Amidst the smell of fresh paint she had to wonder if she was walking across the spot where Su Lee had parked her new Firebird only hours before. Badgering Tony was not something she wanted to do. Eloise trotted onto the street and quickly veered into the thicket beyond the mailbox. Mary Ellen looked back at Tony's new, paint splattered aluminum ladder lying on the ground beside the angled garage. The blue bay beckoned through the trees. At least he had fi-nally begun to paint the beach house.   The garage screen door slammed. Tony appeared in baggy black shorts and a red Izod shirt. He carried a drink as he meandered up the drive. Mary Ellen wished Eloise would stop sniffing and continue up the road. " Hey, sweetheart. You rushed out real quick."   " Someone has to take the dog out."   " Eloise has been out twice," he said, reaching the end of the driveway.   " No wonder she's not going." Mary Ellen refrained from looking him in the eye. Why was she feeling guilty? Tony was the one hooking up with that young thing. " So, Tony, how the hell was your afternoon?"   Tony hesitated. He brought the drink to his lips and scanned the road. " My afternoon was... productive."   " I bet it was."   " The side of the house and the garage are done."   " That's impossible," she smiled.   Again he seemed at a loss for words as if he had quickly bragged about something leading to other things. Su Lee must have helped him paint. That could be the only explanation. Now Mary Ellen was too scared to start asking questions. Su Lee was with her husband all afternoon. 8

The House Series Mysteries: Beach House Robert P. Fitton     " So, how do you like my handiwork?"   " Saves us a little money when you do it yourself." The blue leash tightened and Eloise pulled her along the road.   " I like doing the work." He followed her up the road. " You know, I don't think you need to go back to work in the fall."   " I like teaching. I like the kids. Reminds me of when our kids were little. Those days are gone."   " Aren't we the prophet of gloom and doom this afternoon?" Again he sipped the drink, but his hands shook as he lifted the glass.   " You're hands are shaking, Tony."   " All afternoon wielding a brush." He slid his hand over hers and took the dog's leash. " All right, what's your gripe?"   " I have no gripes."   " I know that expression."   Maybe she was wrong. Maybe that orange protrusion near the garage was not Su Lee's car, but she was afraid to be proven wrong.   " It was a long trip to the island."   " Did you want me to go with you, is that it?"   " No."   " You said you wanted the beach house painted before fall."   " I do.   Eloise rustled the leaves and squatted down. Mary Ellen exhaled slowly and the adrenaline rushed into her stomach. She was going to ask him. Her inner thoughts bubbled up. She wanted to know the truth now no matter how much it hurt. " I saw her car out here."   " What?" Tony quickly looked away.   " I said I saw Su Lee's car in our driveway when I looked at the beach house through the binoculars."   " So?"   " Well, what kind of explanation are you going to give me now, Tony? "   " Mary Ellen, calm down."   " Was she back over here to get more software for her brother's roommate? Is that it?"   Tony waited. Maybe he was considering an alternate explana-tion or perhaps he would deny Su Lee's presence altogether. " I think you're jumping to conclusions."   " You told me that when you hung all over her at Barnacle Bill's. You told me that when you ogled her little ass on the beach."   " Mary Ellen." He laughed nervously. 9 Home Page Unimited Annual Access to all Fitton e-books and PODCAST Episodes $ 6.99 © 2000 - 2007 Fitton Books. All rights reserved.

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