ICE COLD KILLER
CHAPTER ONE
Kyrano
Kyrano looked out the window of the taxi cab as it slowly wound its way through slush- and snow-filled streets. The quaintness of the little town called Cabot Cove in the US state of Maine, was evident even in the aftermath of the recent ice storm that had brought it to a standstill. A day of temperatures in the forties, Mel had advised, was melting everything that had been frozen. Here and there, tree limbs lay scattered in yards and alongside the road. Some people were out and about, but most of them were the younger and heartier residents; Kyrano could see that the sidewalks were just too slippery for the older citizens to venture outside in the chilly morning.
"Here we are!" Mel said brightly as the taxi rolled to a stop in front of a white two-story home surrounded by a white picket fence. "This is where my Great-Aunt Jess and Great-Uncle Frank lived. I never knew Uncle Frank, though, other than through the stories she told me about him."
He opened the door of the cab and was hit with a cold blast of wind that made him shiver. Carefully he stepped onto the curb while the cabbie moved to retrieve their luggage from the trunk. Mel scooted across the seat and he offered her a gloved hand, pulling her out and closing the door behind her. She smiled up at him. "Told you there was an ice storm. Sorry you came?"
He shook his head. "Not at all. I've lived in parts of the world where this type of weather is common."
She cocked her head at him. "You are so mysterious," she noted, to which he just gave a little shrug.
The cabbie had their three suitcases on the sidewalk in short order. As the man closed the trunk, Kyrano pulled out his wallet and gave him a one hundred dollar bill for his troubles.
"Hey, your fare's only half that," the man noted.
"The rest is for getting us here safely," Kyrano softly replied.
"Wow. You need another cab ride, gimme a call!" the portly man in his mid-fifties said with a grin. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a business card that had seen better days.
Kyrano took it. "David Loque," he read, then looked up at the man, reached out and shook his hand. "Thank you."
Tipping his houndstooth flat cap at the couple, David got back into his cab and made a slow U-turn, waving at them as he drove away.
Visible puffs of breath surrounding his face, Kyrano looked up at the Victorian home that had seen so much life and so very much mystery over the years.
"The frame and floor of the house were made of Douglas Fir," Mel advised, picking up one of the suitcases while Kyrano took the other two. "The walls and foundation are made of virgin, clearheart Redwood, all built in 1888."
"It's quite artistic," Kyrano commented. "I believe Virgil would appreciate the architecture."
Mel nodded and moved to open the front gate. "You should see this place in the spring and summer; I'm afraid winter doesn't do it justice."
As they made their way up the front walk, Kyrano noted the extensive landscaping that filled the front yard. From an apple tree to a wooden bench, to various bits of earth that currently appeared dead, but which he assumed would be filled with the likes of daffodils and daisies when the weather turned warm, it was well-laid out and well-kept.
"Aunt Jess did all the gardening herself until she got so she couldn't crouch and bend so well," Mel told him, unlocking the front door. "A few local teenagers helped her out until she died."
"And who does it now?" Kyrano inquired, grateful for the warmth that greeted him as the two stepped inside.
"I do," she said. "Here, let's take our luggage upstairs and get ourselves warmed up."
He watched her ascend the steps. "And how do you intend to accomplish this warm-up?"
She turned and grinned wickedly down at him. Then with a wink, she whirled and jogged the rest of the way up the staircase.
Kyrano felt out of place and yet strangely at home, as though he knew the layout of this house already. Knew the artwork and family photos that adorned the walls. Knew the white patterned wallpaper, the wooden furniture. The carpeted and hardwood floors, even the stairs that led to its second floor. He supposed he could understand the feeling of familiarity because for a short time, his and Mel's minds had been joined together as she'd struggled to help him overcome his half-brother's mental attack.
He closed his eyes against the memory, as though that simple act could shield him from what he had been so certain he'd done. Jeff had insisted over and over that no, he hadn't killed his half-brother...he'd simply incapacitated him. Yet no matter how many words his best friend had spoken on the matter, something deep inside Kyrano still struggled to believe any of them.
"Hey," came a quiet voice. He opened his eyes to find Mel halfway down the staircase, curious eyes searching his. "Are you okay?"
"Perhaps it is jet lag," he lied, instantly chiding himself for doing such a thing. He never lied. Withheld truths, yes...but never outright lied. He shook his head, placing his hand on the end of the wooden banister. "I can't help thinking," he admitted, "about my half-brother."
Nodding, Mel descended, closing the gap between them. "I know. That was harrowing for those of us not related to him." She placed a hand on his arm. "I can't imagine what it was like for you."
Squashing down the negativity that threatened to consume him, Kyrano straightened his spine and forced a smile. "It's in the past, Melody," he said, patting her hand. "I think I'd much rather live in the now." And with that he leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips, radiating outward the love he felt for her.
She gasped, allowed his kiss to linger, and then pulled away, taking his hands and guiding him up the stairs. For a good, long time thereafter, no more words were spoken.
Hours later, freshly showered and dressed, with their luggage unpacked and Kyrano having been given a tour of the house from top to bottom, Kyrano and Mel found themselves in a bit of a bind. They were hungry, but there were hardly any groceries thanks to Mel's extended absence.
"Why don't we have lunch at the Hill House?" Mel suggested. "Then we can stock the kitchen up and maybe I can show you a little bit of Cabot Cove in the process."
"Sounds great."
"You know, when it's this cold, I usually stay holed up in the house," she told him as he put on his black down coat that reached halfway down his thighs. She slipped into a dark blue winter coat and continued as they donned their gloves, "but today I want to be out there, because I want to show you my world."
And Kyrano wanted to see it.
While the food at the Hill House was commendable, Kyrano felt uncomfortable from the moment they stepped into its restaurant to the moment he placed his napkin on top of his plate. Even now, as Mel excused herself to use the restroom, he felt so many pairs of eyes on him that it very nearly made his skin crawl. He could sense the curiosity from those surrounding them, but more than that, he could sense their disdain.
It was no surprise to him; after all, even in today's day and age, when a stranger appeared in a small New England town it was liable to send tongues wagging. Melody had warned him how off-putting Cabot Covers could be to new arrivals. And truthfully, it wasn't lost on him that he was the only non-white person in the entire restaurant. Even as they'd walked from her house to where they now were, he'd noticed there wasn't a single person in sight who wasn't some variation of Caucasian.
So, he supposed, as he sipped some tea and waited for their dessert to arrive, his presence was probably something of a novelty to the townspeople – especially in the dead of winter, which wasn't anywhere near their standard tourist season. His eyes moved to the restaurant entrance as a man appeared there. He was dressed in a brown uniform, and the star-shaped badge on the outside of his heavy coat bespoke who he was. The narrowed eyes that met Kyrano's own gave him an uneasy feeling that he'd committed some horrible crime known only to locals.
It was interesting, he thought, that after spending so many years with a family like the Tracys, who paid no mind to race, religion or creed, his nationality had become something he was almost no longer even aware of, for the most part. Until now.
At that moment, Melody returned to the table. "That's Sheriff Lazslo," she said, following Kyrano's gaze to the door. "There's always only been one sheriff and one deputy in Cabot Cove. Right now, the second spot's filled by Tony Carrington."
Kyrano nodded and turned his attention to their waitress, Cathy, a young woman in her twenties with blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail. As Cathy deposited a slice of warm homemade apple pie in front of each of them, Sheriff Lazslo approached.
"Welcome home, Melody," he stated, looking at her in a way that Kyrano didn't particularly like.
"Thanks, Gabe," she responded with a smile. Then, to Kyrano, "Eat up while it's warm. Mae makes the best apple pie in Maine!"
He picked up his fork and started to do just that.
"So who's your friend?" Lazslo asked.
"Oh, God, I have no manners," Mel lamented, gesturing to Kyrano. "Sheriff, this is Kyrano. Kyrano, meet Sheriff Gabe Lazslo."
Kyrano rose to his feet and held out his hand, but Lazslo didn't move an inch. "Kyrano, that's an odd name. Where are you from?" the sheriff blatantly asked.
"I was born in Malaysia," Kyrano replied, returning to his seat as Melody's eyes shot daggers at Lazslo.
"He works with Tracy Corporation," Melody said, her tone defensive. "You know, Jeff Tracy, former astronaut, richest man in the US?"
Lazslo shot her a look, then returned to staring at Kyrano. "Well, have a nice stay," he said, the tone of his voice not matching the pleasantry of his words.
"Thank you," Kyrano nodded.
The sheriff looked at him a few seconds more, then turned and headed for the bar.
Melody reached out and placed her hand on his atop the table. "I'm sorry. I told you they're a suspicious bunch."
"It's all right," he stated, lifting a piece of pie on his fork. "This more than makes up for it."
She laughed and they finished their meal in peace, their fingers entwined, their eyes only on each other.
And so it went for the next five days, with Melody showing Kyrano her world, and him questioning everything, insanely curious to understand it all…to understand what made her tick.
One evening after yet another dinner at Hill House, during they experienced the same amount of whispering and staring as there'd been for the entirety of his visit to date, Kyrano couldn't help but feel as though it would never get better. Not that they'd made any plans as yet about what was going to happen after this initial visit ended. He wasn't expecting her to know what was at the root of his uncharacteristic silence tonight. It was far too soon to concern themselves with future anyway, he chided himself…and yet he could think of nothing else.
"They're good people, they really are," Melody stated as they strolled along the small downtown's sidewalks that were currently littered with sand to provide traction. He looked at her in surprise as she continued, "Aunt Jess used to talk all the time about how every one of them would give you the shirt off their back, even though they'd treat you like you'd stolen it."
She really could read him like an open book. He found it just as disconcerting as when Jeff did it.
"I am familiar with small towns," he replied, eyes taking in the various stores, some of which were closed down for the winter. "Don't apologize for those who are what they are. They'll learn I'm not here to do them harm."
She squeezed his hand. "You couldn't harm a fly," she said.
He squeezed her hand in return, but her words cut deeply into his psyche, bringing back once again the memory of fighting Belah Gaat's mind so fiercely. If she noticed this sudden change in his demeanor, she said nothing.
That evening, as they held one another on the pale lavender-and-cream-colored couch in her living room, they had the local news on, but the sound was too low for them to really hear what was being said.
"It feels strange to have you here," Melody remarked, pulling his arms more tightly around her.
"In what way?" he asked.
She shook her head, staring at the television but not really seeing it. "It's hard to describe," she told him, then turned enough that she could look at his face. "When my mom and dad moved us back here to help Aunt Jess as she was getting older, I spent every moment of my free time listening to stories of her adventures helping the authorities solve murders. I'd read every single one of her murder mysteries by the time I was twelve. By fourteen, I was already writing my own mysteries, with her mentoring me."
Mel lay back against him, her head on his shoulder. "But even with early successes and with Aunt Jess, Mom and Dad cheering me on, I always felt like something was missing."
"And now?"
She smiled softly. "Now I've found it." Then she shook her head. "And yet here, in this place...you just don't seem to belong here. At least, it doesn't feel like you do. It's as though I've removed an exotic creature from his natural habitat and put him somewhere he simply can't exist...like Cabot Cove's a frozen zoo or something."
"Exotic creature," he murmured, amused. "I suspect the townspeople would agree with that assessment."
She chuckled. "You know what I mean."
He nodded. "Yes. I do. But I am still me no matter where I may go."
Sighing, she sat up a little so she could look at him properly. "I know. But your family isn't here."
He looked at her curiously, then reached out and cupped her cheek with his hand. "What is it that troubles you?"
She looked down at where his other hand was holding one of hers. "When you said you were coming home with me," she said quietly, "I had sudden visions of you wanting to stay here with me. I mean, stay stay. For good." She shook her head and looked into his eyes. "But you, as magical and wonderful as you are no matter where you are...you belong on Tracy Island. That's your home. They are your family."
"You're part of that family, too. You're actually more related to them than I."
"That's not what I mean and you know it, Meor," she admonished. "It's just...I guess even though we've only been here five days, I've already realized that to try and take you from that paradise is so wrong that it borders on criminal."
"Don't worry about such things now," he told her, maneuvering her so she was stretched out between his legs, her head resting over his heart as his arms encircled her. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. He did feel out of his element here so far away from home...so far away from Jeff, from his daughter, from those he loved so dearly. And yet with Melody, he felt as whole as he ever had.
What he couldn't bring himself to admit to her just yet, however, was that he'd been feeling exactly what she'd given voice to, for a good portion of the day. No matter how much he wanted her, wanted to be with her, he knew even now that he could never leave Tracy Island. And he also knew that a long-distance relationship of this sort, with one so far away who led such a different life, was probably not going to be enough for either of them.
But he didn't want to think about that right now, and he didn't want her to, either. For right now, he was visiting a place of great importance to the woman he'd so improbably fallen in love with. And while at some point in the near future they were going to have to make some difficult decisions about that love, all he wanted to do was bask in what he felt...in the here and now.
And so to that end, his hands stole under her sweater, his lips captured hers, and he helped them both forget about life beyond the small, fragile bubble that was the newfound 'them.'