For whom the bell doth toll......

Dong.....Donggggggg........Dongggggggg. The aluminum mixing bowl rang like a bell into the quiet morning kitchen air. Dongggggg.......Dongggggggggggg......Dongggggggg. With a rhythm and meter all of its own, each large brown egg cracking into the bowl left a musical death toll. The sound rang like a bell telling the horrific tales of death to the eggs left behind in the gray egg box. Certainly they knew this morning would come. Finally, when duty called, to stand up straight and join the world after being knocked silly on the edge of an aluminum mixing bowl. Patiently waiting in the bottom of the bowl for the wire whisk of ultimate religious conversion. When light and dark become unified with a little salt, pepper and cream, settling into a hot frying pan from hell to prove that purgatory could really exist. One minute....Two....Three..... Patience, soon finding forgiveness on a plate decorated by the heavens. The maple glazed sausage acting as sentinels, entreating the olfactory senses of things to come, the mix of alluring fresh fruit like ladies in waiting.


I wonder if he had his last meal. You know, the guy that family murdered. They ones who came in for a picnic. Drove in from all over the US, for one night in my BB. I bet he didn't have a good time. He came for the dogs and all he found was a rusty old spade this his name on it. Probably written in coal. Accident, most likely not. Planned, more like it. I had searched some old online newspaper articles. I started with last year at this time. To much of this seemed like an anniversary. A time to remember where they hid the body. A time to dig it up and move it someplace else. That's what I guessed. Seemed logical. It answers the questions. It would prove why every one was whacked out. This was the story the grandpa was telling in his silent way.

I went back another year in the newspaper search. Looking for something. Anything. Of course, what if I found something. A missing person report. What would I do then. I had no proof. Just an old article and family on a picnic. Not even circumstantial. Just enough to get me knocked off by the same spade. Smacked on the back of the head. And left to start pushing petunias next year. Worm food. To dust I will return.

Nothing the year before. How about three years ago. Four. Five. Six......There it was, six years ago a missing person report. A family camping out in the western hills of Maine reported their uncle had gone out in a canoe on Rangley lake late at night and never returned. His boat was found on one of the beaches. The lake was dragged for three days the police report said but officials never found the body.

There it was, in black and white on my computer. But the names didn't seem to match. Hmmmm, that shouldn't matter. Names can be changed. Could I prove this? I would have to find someone who was there at the time of the search, show them a photo of the family and see if someone recognizes them.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast?"" Can I get you some more coffee?" Sure, I can give you directions to Old Port" "Its only a few minutes away"