Hope Haven
by
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The flies in the hall set off no alarms for me and the air grew warmer and stiller as we ascended. I was thinking about my bed, about my quilt; I was not really thinking about Rachel Quinn at all when we got to her door. I knocked softly and we waited. Nothing.
Then I knocked a staccato little rap. Silence.
I turned to Guy. “She’s not here.”
“Then, I have to check on her.”
I moved aside so that he could put the key in the door. The light dawned that Guy wanted to cover his bases in case he caught this woman showering or pulling on a pair of nylons. Instead, the door opened and both of us looked at each other. The weirdest thing was that there was no smell, not right away but there was the unmistakable feeling of death that caused a shiver to run down my spine.
I still can’t recall why I walked in first. I think that I was still thinking about her dignity and the fact that she might be naked or exposed in some way and that I didn’t want Guy to have to deal with that. By the time I got in the living room and then looked in towards the bedroom and saw her legs, I was aware that I was trampling on what might be a crime scene.
“Call 911.” I was completely calm.
Guy moved towards the phone.
“Downstairs.” The whole world felt like it had slowed down. There was no air in the apartment, complete stillness and that horrible feeling of finality. I could not tear my eyes away from her legs lying so still in the bed. I kept staring at the cool comforting shadows in there with all the shades drawn, the perfect setting for an afternoon snooze. Against my better judgment, I crept forward and peeked around to see her face. I immediately wished that I hadn’t. Flies were buzzing around her mouth and nose and covered both eyes. Her hands were clasped over her chest in a funeral pose. She looked for all the world like she’d just laid down for a nap, and then never woke up.
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About the Book
On the anniversary of her family’s death, Terry Allen unwittingly discovers a dead body. From all appearances, a beautiful accountant named Rachel Quinn has taken her own life at Hope Haven, the renovated mansion that Terry’s husband Arthur was helping construct when he died. Terry’s grade school nemesis, Ed, is the responding officer. Seeing the body, so at peace in death except for the flies that danced on her unblemished face, hits Terry hard. The event stirs conflicting feelings in her; oddly enough one of them is resentment. The suicide note read, “It’s all too hard.”
This unhappy event shakes Terry out of her slump. She realizes that it is time to merge back onto the highway of life. She decides to look for work. Her reinvestment has a price. Will it be too high to pay? Her neighbor at Hope Haven watches Terry’s every move. Lloyd’s constant cleaning borders on obsessive as he polishes until the back stairs glow, the hall floor gleams. Whenever Terry opens the front door of the building, he is always right there. Is Lloyd a good neighbor or a ticking time bomb?
In the days following the suicide, a woman had been appearing in the side yard and looking up at Rachel Quinn’s window. Her expression is filled with sadness and her eyes search Hope Haven for an answer. Following the coroner’s report, the police start to investigate Rachel Quinn’s death as a possible homicide. Terry feels the need to question the stranger who cries and watches the window above. Terry confronts her to find that
There are questions that should go unanswered and desires unpursued. Hope Haven was created to provide sanctuary for mentally ill and fragile people. Can such a beautiful place also harbor something much darker? As the mystery surrounding Rachel Quinn’s untimely death grows, some of Hope Haven’s secrets are exposed to light.
Sleepy little
About the Author
M. Laurel Walsh is the editor and publisher of Double Dare Press magazine, an online international literature and art forum. In her varied careers, she has worked in a medical processing plant, cleaned houses professionally, and was a waitress for sixteen years. She currently teaches writing at