A Noise in the Night

This is an excerpt from my current work in progress:

Miss Tootsie glanced at the three women who sat in front of the fireplace with her. The blaze had died down and although it still put out some warmth, they were all three wrapped in quilts or afghans. The chill Miss Tootsie felt seemed to have seeped all the way into her bones and she was sure the others felt the same.

“You know, never in all my years, have I seen such a cold spring or a wild and noisy night,” she murmured.

Carrie smothered a yawn. “Maybe that’s what is wrong with Maple Ridge right now. The unusual weather has upset the normal run of things and people have taken to killing each other. Or else it’s those spooky lights out at the river. Jase said they were meant as a warning that bad things were about to happen and they certainly have!”

Bertha snorted. “That’s just silly. The weather has nothing to do with it and ghost lights. While I admit they’re scary, they don’t cause bad things to happen. That’s superstition, Carrie, and you know that Pastor Murphy said superstitions are of the Devil. People aren’t running around killing each other, either. It’s just one person who’s a threat. Or, at least, I hope it’s only one.”

Miss Tootsie sighed. “There’s really no use in staying awake. One of us could stay awake and keep watch while the rest of us sleep. We’d be more comfortable in bed.”

“No, thank you,” Carrie said. “If I’m going to die, I want to see who it is that finishes me off.”

“Why?” asked Bertha.

“Why do I want to see who finishes me off? Well, just for the satisfaction of the thing,” Carrie said.

Miss Tootsie giggled in spite of the macabre conversation. “Does anybody want more hot chocolate?”

Her only answer was Marianne’s soft snore as she sat in the rocking chair, wrapped in a quilt.

Cocoa, wedged between Miss Tootsie and Carrie on the sofa, yipped softly in her sleep and wriggled closer to Miss Tootsie. Cleo snoozed between Cocoa’s paws.

Miss Tootsie pulled her crocheted afghan around her shoulders. She wished Drew had not scared the living daylights out of them all. The storm was enough to keep them keyed up, without adding the threat of a possible murderer stalking them. Maybe she should put a sign on her porch that said, “I do not have the note nor do I know what it said. So, go away!” She leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes.

Miss Tootsie’s mother’s tall grandfather’s clock that stood in a corner of the living room chimed twice.  She rubbed her neck which was stiff because of her unnatural position. When had she dozed off? Evidently, sleep had overtaken the others too. The storm had passed and the room seemed eerily quiet. Beside her, Cocoa suddenly raised her head and growled.

“What is it, girl?” She dropped her hand onto Cocoa’s soft fur. Her little dog growled again, hopped off the sofa and trotted toward the kitchen.

A cold prickle of fear ran down Miss Tootsie’s back. What had disturbed Cocoa? What did the little dog hear or smell? Should she waken the others? Had Cocoa heard an owl or a coyote back in the woods? Could someone be snooping around outside? Softly, she eased the poker out of its stand on the hearth and tiptoed after Cocoa.