The Fisherman's Niece

Chapter 4

       Meriel stepped out onto her porch with wine in hand. The wind that had been building on her drive home was lashing out with venomous intent. She shielded the top of her glass so that sand particles didn't find their way inside and watched as the waves reared up, crashing into each other and against the shore. Thunder sounded somewhere out to sea and her heart started beating faster. This promised to be quite a storm, and she wondered if she should try to find some candles. That's when she remembered her plan to search through her uncle's room. It felt strange invading a place that personal, but he was gone and not much that Matthias had told her made any kind of sense. She was about to go back inside when she heard something that sounded like a voice coming from somewhere off to her left.

       She peered towards the the sound, shielding her eyes from the setting sun. There did seem to be someone walking towards her along the sandy shore. They were coming from the direction of the house she'd seen on the evening of her arrival. As the figure came closer, she was able to make out the features of a tall, slim man. His sandy-blonde hair was cut short and choppy and she thought perhaps he had done the deed himself. His face was long, and as he drew up alongside the patch of concrete that served as her back porch, she could see that it was furrowed with deep lines and was heavily pock-marked. He was smiling, but it was more of a smirk than a friendly sort of greeting. As soon as he had seen her take note of his approach, he'd adopted a bit of a swagger in his step. The coming storm didn't appreciate his manner any more than Meriel did and had tried to throw him off balance several times. It was funny, and she couldn't help but try to stifle a small chuckle. Unfortunately the newcomer mistook her mirth for interest and his strange little smile grew into a disturbing grin that would be more at home on a clown mask than on a human face.

       "Whew! Glad you made it back before the storm hit, this one is going to be a doozey!" he huffed.

       "Yeah, and you are?" Meriel kept herself between him and the open back door. She knew that sand was blowing in, but she didn't want to close off her only sure route of escape should this encounter turn sour.

       The man put out his hand and beamed at her in what was supposed to be a friendly manner.

       "Name's Lyle, Lyle Rupert. I'm your neighbor." he continued to stand there, leering at her with his hand held out.

       She looked at his gesture and figured that this man could definitely be the one who had left the interesting gift on her front porch. Though she had no desire to touch, let alone continue to speak with him, she decided that a little diplomacy was probably in order. This was what having neighbors was all about, right? She reached out to accept the gesture, but he grabbed her hand before she could reach his and squeezed hard while jarring her shoulder with a vigorous greeting. After a moment, she was able to wrench her hand free, and was disgusted at the dampness that clung to it. Trying to be nice, she smiled and fought the urge to wipe her palm on the leg of her jeans.

       "I hope you got the basket I left for you? It's been awhile since I've had company out here, and I wanted to make a good impression." He winked at her and continued his speech. "I see you're already enjoying the vino, picked that one out myself." He puffed out his chest the way some primates would to appear more attractive, or threatening.

       "Well, actually--"

       "The old man that used to live here? Well we were close. He gave me this key so that I could look after the place when he went out on long fishing trips. You know, just in case."

       Meriel was horrified to see the gleaming object in Lyle's hand. Would he ask her if he should keep a copy? Just in case.

       "Thought you might like it back," he offered.