Murder! Too Close To Home

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

April 17, 1997

My name is Gabriel Celtic, an investigator for the county prosecutor, and currently living a hell like none I've ever faced. Although I have been to war, shot three times and stabbed once, I thought of these last few months as being worse than any of that. But even as bad as that time had been, that little bit of hell had wound itself up in a gigantic ball of crap and spewed itself out, intertwining my wife and I in its clutches.

I had apparently dozed off, awakening to the now familiar beep, beep of the life support system, the machine now keeping my wife alive. Worry racked my heart as I looked upon my beautiful bride of nine years.

"She should not be here, this is a mistake," I thought momentarily. My rational mind then interjected its own line of reasoning. It had been her decision I reminded myself, there was nothing to be done to change that now.

This had been my home day and night for two weeks, watching over my love, praying to anyone that would listen to bring her back to me. She had been shot, and while those wounds had been repaired, the outcome of the act was still less than certain.

Swelling in the brain had left her in a coma, the result of the fall down into the basement of the old house after the shooting. I sighed in despair and got up to go to the bathroom and get some more coffee.

It was after midnight and the cafeteria was mostly empty. Celia was there at the cash register, as usual. It seemed like she must work here every night. She smiled her sad smile that I thought she reserved just for me and asked me about the status of Betty.

"No change," I mumbled for the hundredth time as I filled my new cup with the hospital-grade brew, a recipe I'm now certain that included old dish rags and used coffee grounds.

"I'm so sorry," she replied in her now familiar British accent, not knowing what else to say I suppose. "I just know in my heart Betty will make it, she's always been so strong," she added with a hopeful look.

I walked up to pay and Celia stated that the dark liquid in question was the end of the pot and that I should just take it. She would get busy making a new pot straight away.

I smiled at Celia's excuse for keeping me in coffee, thanked her, and headed back to the room.

Walking slowly from a combination of exhaustion and worry, I once again mentally clicked through the facts that had led to my soul mate lying in a hospital bed. This inevitably led to thinking back on our life together, and to my life as a whole that had brought me to experience this painful point in my existence. If I could have changed any one of a thousand things, I might have been able to keep my love out of danger.

I put on my game face before I entered the room, convinced that Betty knew when I was there and could probably pick up on my mood. She had always been able to read my mind.

I checked on her condition, leaned over and kissed her forehead, then sat back in the chair they would probably have to replace when I was done with it. Laying my head back against the cushion, I once again went over the case that Betty and I had helped to solve, the case that had put her in this place by her throwing herself in harm's way to save another.

Yet she wouldn't be here now if I hadn't had a theory, a theory that had led us to the old farm house where she had met her fate. I would give anything to have been wrong. I would give everything...

My eyes grew heavy and soon I was drifting off, now reliving in my mind life's events leading to this moment. Even as one nightmare was over, another had taken its place, leaving me feeling helpless and alone.

Being Gabriel Celtic on this day meant being powerless...useless. It was not a good feeling.

***

Fully asleep, I found myself in the now familiar room: fire blazing in the fireplace, a steaming cup of coffee, and a chess board with a game in process.

I sat down in the comfortable chair, and then hefted the coffee while looking over the board. I smiled at the most recent move of my opponent. Obviously he had been brushing up on his game.

I heard a creak in the floor behind me, knowing there would be no one there but turning to look anyway. As before the room was empty, but the feeling that someone was coming grew stronger with every visit to the room. I was hopeful that someday someone would reveal to me the mystery of the strange but comfortable room.

That's the story of my life, always another mystery to sort out.