A weekend visit to picturesque Newfoundland
by a large crew of outlaw bikers leaves
behind another mess for Sgt. Windflower to clean up. This time he’s facing violence, murder, mystery and intrigue. This adventure has Windflower questioning everything he thought he knew. There are troubles on the home front, cutbacks in the policing budget, old friends leaving and new ones not quite here yet. Windflower is seeking to find answers in territory that is both dangerous and unfamiliar.
behind another mess for Sgt. Windflower to clean up. This time he’s facing violence, murder, mystery and intrigue. This adventure has Windflower questioning everything he thought he knew. There are troubles on the home front, cutbacks in the policing budget, old friends leaving and new ones not quite here yet. Windflower is seeking to find answers in territory that is both dangerous and unfamiliar.
A Long Ways from Home
explores more than just homicides or the
dirty dealings of outlaw bikers. It’s also about some old and some very new
challenges and hard choices facing an uncertain future in small communities all
over this part of the world.
Windflower relies on his friends and allies, sometimes
four-legged ones, to help him find the answers. Sometimes those answers will
find us, and like Windflower, we discover that we are never really alone, even
if we are a long ways from home.
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He
drove the short distance to Sheila’s, and by the time he pulled up at her house
he was certifiably starving. When he opened the door and smelled the roast beef
he felt his knees go weak.
“Hi,
Sheila,” he called out as he took off his hat and coat and hung them on a hook
in the hallway. “That smells fabulous.”
Sheila
came out of the kitchen with her apron on and went to Windflower to meet his
embrace. “I’m glad you’re home.” She hugged him closely.
“Me
too. Dinner smells delicious.”
“I
could probably have come out here naked and you would have still talked about
dinner,” said Sheila with a laugh.
“No,
I might have asked for my dessert first though,” Windflower said
“Go
get cleaned up. Dinner is almost ready.”
Windflower
gave her another squeeze and went to the small bathroom in the hall to wash up
for dinner. By the time he got back, Sheila had placed two bowls of vegetables
on the table along with a small, perfectly-browned roast. She handed him the
carving knife and fork and went back to the stove to pour the gravy into a
serving dish.
The
sharp knife slid smoothly through the peppered crust of the meat revealing a
ring of growing pink towards the middle. Windflower tried to keep from drooling
as the room filled with the aroma of the meat and the newly released juices. He
placed a large slice on each of their plates, which Sheila had already prepared
with scoops of mashed potatoes and steaming vegetables. She poured a ladle full
of gravy over the meat and smiled at Windflower.
But
he was long gone to meat heaven and for a few minutes all Sheila got in return
was the murmured sighs of her hungry man. Finally, the muted Windflower awoke
and raised his plate to Sheila for another slice of meat. “This is so good,
Sheila,” he said as she handed him back his refilled plate. “What did you use
for spices?”
“Nothing
special. Some black and white pepper, salt, thyme, garlic powder and onion
powder. Plus, my secret ingredient.”
“Secret
ingredient?” mumbled Windflower with a mouth full of beef.
“If
I told you, I’d have to kill you,” said Sheila. But by now Windflower had
drifted back into his food, and she knew all conversation with Windflower would
be one-sided and futile until he was done.
Once
Windflower’s appetite had been satiated he gave Sheila his undivided attention.
She gave him an update on the latest plans for the wedding, including who had
confirmed they would attend and those sending their regrets. One of the
positive replies was from Guy Simard, who sent along a little note saying he
and the missus would happily be attending the festivities.
“And
by the way my cousin, Carol, is coming to visit,” Sheila said. “She’s a bit of
an outlaw in the family. Rides a big motorcycle. Has never been married. She
lives up north in Ontario now but
every couple of years takes a big trip on her Harley. This year she is heading
down our way. I was expecting to see her show up by now.”
“What
does she look like?” asked Windflower.
“She’s
tall, pretty. The last time I saw her she had long blond hair. Liked to wear it
up in a ponytail.”
“That’s
interesting. I might have seen her at Goobies. Or someone fitting that
description anyway. But I didn’t see her on the way down. Maybe she stopped off
in Marystown along the way.”
“Maybe,”
said Sheila.
Then
Windflower remembered the motorcycle and trailer he’d seen parked along the
highway. That might have been her bike, he thought. But he didn’t want to alarm
Sheila. Not yet anyway. Instead he said, “I’ll get Tizzard to start looking out
for her.”
“Thanks,”
said Sheila. “Any word on Eddie yet?”
“I
haven’t heard anything new, but I’ll ask him about it when I see him tomorrow.”
“We’re
all going to miss him,” Sheila said. Windflower just nodded at this last
remark. It was still a little too painful for him to talk about. Sheila reached
out and took his hand in hers.
“What’s
new at the Council?” asked Windflower, trying to move the conversation to safer
and less emotional grounds.
“Well,
Francis Tibbo made it official today. He’s going to run for the mayor’s job
again!”
“That
officious little prig,” started Windflower, but Sheila cut him off.
“Stay
out of the politics, Sergeant,” she cautioned. “The RCMP has to stay neutral in
this race. You have to work with whoever gets elected.”
“That
doesn’t mean I don’t have an opinion.”
“I
appreciate the support, but I can fight my own political battles, thank you
very much,” said Sheila. “I’m not worried about Francis Tibbo. I’m not even
worried about getting elected again. We’ve already got things moving in the
right direction.”
This
time Windflower simply nodded his agreement. It was clear from the coat of
fresh paint on the aging properties on the wharf to the popular new programming
at the museum that things were headed in the right direction.
Sheila
got up. “If you really want to help, you can do the dishes while I make us some
tea.”
“Finally
something I’m allowed to do.” Windflower smiled. Sheila laughed and threw a
dishcloth at him while she put on the kettle to boil.
“Let’s
watch a movie tonight,” she said as she went to the fridge to look for
something.
“Okay.”
Windflower had his hands in a sink full of soapy water and his eyes firmly
fixed on her activities. When she pulled a small cardboard box out of the
refrigerator he almost started to glow.
Sheila
pretended to ignore him as she took their dessert out of the box, cut it into
two pieces and put it along with her tea pot onto a small tray. “See you in the
living room.”
Windflower
finished the chore in record time and was soon sitting next to Sheila on the
couch with half of his dessert, the fabulous chocolate peanut butter cheesecake
from the Mug-Up Café, already gone. He barely breathed as he finished it off.
“Mmmmmm,” was his only response.
Sheila
laughed at his post-meal antics as she looked for a movie on T.V. “Let’s watch
‘To Kill a Mockingbird’,” she said. “I just picked up the new Harper Lee book
and I’d like to see the old movie before I dig into the new story.”
“That
would be great. “I love that movie. Atticus Finch has always been a hero of
mine.”
“I
love Scout,” said Sheila. “This was one of my favourite books growing up.”
“Me
too. Although I hear the new story is a bit more revealing of the racist
attitudes that existed back then.”
“That
was always the reality. In some ways, the new book may be closer to the truth.
I’m glad we had a kinder version of that truth when we were kids. It doesn’t
make it any easier to take, just the same.”
“Let’s
just enjoy the movie. It’s been a long week. We both deserve a break. And it’s
good to know that at least in the movies there’s a possibility of a happy
ending.”
The
pair snuggled up on the couch and totally enjoyed both the classic film and
their time together. When the movie was over Windflower went back to his house
for the final walk of the evening with Lady. Once again she was very pleased to
see him and bounded out the door when he held it open for her. They did the
extended loop that led them down near the brook where Lady had a good, long
drink and then they darted around the perimeter of the wharf.
Mike Martin was born in Newfoundland
on the East Coast of Canada and now lives and works in Ottawa,
Ontario. He is a longtime freelance writer
and his articles and essays have appeared in newspapers, magazines and online
across Canada
as well as in the United States
and New Zealand.
He is the author of Change the Things You Can: Dealing with Difficult People
and has written a number of short stories that have published in various
publications including Canadian Stories and Downhome magazine.
The Walker on
the Cape was his first full fiction book and the
premiere of the Sgt. Windflower Mystery Series. Other books in the series
include The Body on the T, Beneath the Surface, A Twist of Fortune and A Long
Ways from Home.
A Long Ways from Home was shortlisted for the 2017 Bony
Blithe Light Mystery Award as the best light mystery of the year. A Tangled Web
is the newest book in the series.
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