text: Kenzie Stone Appalachian Arsenic To my dear father, who gave me the idea in the first place 
   
   
   1 
   Though many people thought living alone seemed a dreadful life, I actually rather enjoyed it.  I hadn’t intended on living alone until I got to college and realized I missed having my own bedroom.  I suppose it didn’t help that my two roommates were complete neat freaks, whereas I was disorderly and unkempt.  I drove them crazy with my messes, and their constant nagging annoyed me greatly. 
   Now, I lived alone in the house that my Great Aunt Ida had left for me to inherit.  I suppose it made sense that I was the one to receive the house after she passed away.  I spent every summer for 15 years with her in the small house.  Her death affected me more greatly than my father’s, who passed away when I was 13.  I hardly knew him, really, as his work involved a lot of travel and he was rarely home.  But my Great Aunt Ida was closer to me than my own mother and both of my sisters.  Not that I didn’t love them, I really did.  In fact, I still keep in touch with all three of them.  I had plans to have Christmas at my sister Charlotte’s house this year to visit my brother-in-law and newborn nephew, in fact. 
   The house was bigger than what I needed, with two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen, a study, and a living room.  There was also a basement, but I never ventured down there unless I was searching for something amongst some of the old boxes.  It was nice to have an extra bedroom, in case I did end up having a guest.  Usually, it would be one of my sisters who pitied me and came to visit and provide some company.  I rarely went to visit them.  I was either working or enjoying my own company.  Sometimes I could do both at once; as a journalist, I spent a lot of time on my laptop at home typing. 
   I lived in a very small town located in the Appalachian Mountain range in Kentucky.  There were a total of five houses on the particular peak I lived on, one being my own.  There was the house of Benjamin Andrews, who everyone just called Benji.  There was a young couple about my age who had lived there for three years, Joshua and Eliza Browne.  Eliza was about 8 months pregnant.  The house closest to mine had been for sale as long as I could remember and was losing its chance to be sold; overgrown with weeds and vines.  Finally was Agatha.  I did not know her surname or much about her at all.  She was elderly, widowed, and kept herself rather isolated.  She did occasionally bring around apples to my house as she had a tree in her yard, but I happen to be allergic.  They did look rather lovely in the bowl on my table, though.  If only others could enjoy the beauty with me. 
   I wish I could say I had grown to become more orderly after moving in by myself, but then I would be lying.  I never bothered to set an alarm clock; there was nowhere I had to be at any time in the day.  If I did have an appointment, I would make it mid afternoon or later.  Always in one of three places (the options were limited in the small downtown area); a small coffee shop with a pleasant aroma and live music, a lovely diner that was always filled with sunlight and flowers, or a restaurant in which the lights were always kept dim and the food was great, but more expensive.  Luckily, I could count on the newspaper to pay for all expenses as long as I was in an interview.  
   My day never started exactly the same, but if I got up before 11 a.m., I would typically lay in my bed reading or checking the news and my email on my laptop.  If I was required to go to the newspaper headquarters that day, I expected an email by noon.  If I didn’t receive it by then, there was absolutely no guarantee that I would show up and they would have to call my house to discuss what they needed me for. 
   After lying in bed for however long I chose to, I would get up and drink two cups of coffee, black.  I would then proceed to shower, dress, and prepare for whatever I had to do that day.  If I had an appointment, I would put on makeup and make sure my clothing was dressy.  If not, jeans and an old t-shirt were preferable.  After that, my day would always be completely unpredictable.  
     
   One particular morning, I woke up at exactly 9:47 in the morning and immediately went to my laptop.  I had an email from the headquarters of my newspaper, announcing that my appointment for tomorrow afternoon was switched to today due to uncontrollable circumstances.  I was meeting Francine Guerra at the local diner to discuss her work in environmental sciences at 2:30 that afternoon. 
   I still had a few hours before I needed to go anywhere, but I did have a few errands to run and I wanted to go visit Joshua and Eliza to see how she is doing.  I knew that I’d most likely never have a child of my own, but I did enjoy children greatly.  I had befriended Eliza.  She was a nice girl, my age, and neither of us had many friends.  Her husband was kind as well, and intelligent.  He was a teacher at the local school; she an artist.  That was a similarity between her and me.  I had minored in art while I was in college.  But while she painted beautiful landscapes, I sketched odd pencil drawings that confused people when they tried to figure out what I had drawn.  I mostly kept my sketches to myself, though Eliza insisted on seeing each of my latest drawings.  “What are you doing writing up little stories for the newspaper when you have such a talent in art, Kenzie?” She would ask. 
   It was simple; journalism was steady work for me, and art wasn’t.  I had to support myself somehow, and unless I got married, art would have to remain simply a hobby.  I loved to draw, I really did, but I was too sensible to try and sustain myself off of it. 
   I snuggled up underneath my quilt; Great Aunt Ida had made it herself, and it was warm and smelled of cinnamon, just as it always had.  I curled up under it, moving my hair out of my eyes and grabbing my glasses in order to see properly without giving myself a headache.  There was a painting on the wall above my bed.  Eliza had given it to me after commenting on how “drab” my house looked without decorations.  The walls were painted solid colors, all the floors the same wood.  This particular room was a lovely sunset orange, and the painting seemed to fit right in; an autumn forest, the color of the leaves being an exact duplicate of the walls.  
   Soon enough, I forced myself to get out of my bed.  I put on a pair of slippers and pulled a bathrobe over the tank top and shorts I had slept in.  I then proceeded to go get my coffee.  Once I had poured it into my mug, I took myself, my laptop, and my mug onto my back porch.  It was screened it to keep the bugs and birds out, but I could still enjoy the sight and sound of the outdoors.  My backyard wasn’t large, but I could see all the way down the side of the mountain, including Benji’s home. 
   I’d had my laptop since I’d gone to college.  It was a graduation present from my mother.  I would occasionally open up old documents I still had saved on it from my classes, or especially the old articles I had written for the school newspaper.  Today, I was simply sending an email to Charlotte.  She’d sent me pictures of my nephew, Alex.  He was an adorable child; I couldn’t wait to meet him on Christmas.  I felt sorry I hadn’t been able to visit them, but they lived in Boston and I didn’t have the time to go out to see them.  
   By 11:30, I was done with both cups of coffee, sending all my emails, and calling in to get my regular table at the small downtown diner called The Rose Garden.  I had three hours until I needed to be there.  It would take me around 15 minutes to get there, and Miss Guerra was likely to be late.  I decided to take an extra-long shower to kill time, and then visit Eliza.  Just as I was setting my mug on the kitchen counter, I heard a knock at the door.  I rushed to answer it, hardly caring that I was in my pajamas and a bathrobe until I discovered who was at the door.  “Oh, hello, Benji!” I greeted my guest, startled. 
   “Hello, Kenzie,” He smiled.  “May I come in?” 
   “Yes, yes, of course,” I opened the door wider, allowing him to enter.  “I apologize for my appearance; I was just about to shower…” 
   “Sorry, is this a bad time?” He began to move toward the door. 
   “No, it’s fine, as long as you don’t mind my not being dressed…” 
   “I should have called to say I was coming.  You couldn’t have known to be ready for a visitor.” 
   “I’m never ready for a visitor, Benji,” I offered, smiling. 
   He responded with a bit of a laugh.  “I just came to see how you are.” 
   “That’s thoughtful of you,” I said, my voice suddenly softer than usual.  Then I remembered my manners.  “Would you like to sit?  I think I might have some coffee, though it might be cold by now…” 
   “I’ll sit, but I’ve had my breakfast,” He replied.  
   I led him to my dainty living room, furnished with two simple armchairs and a matching couch, along with a lovely coffee table.  The majority of the furniture in the home had been my Great Aunt Ida’s.  I’d inherited really almost everything of hers.  I was the only one in the family she truly got along with.  “Sit wherever you please, it won’t make any difference to me.” 
   “Your home is lovely, really.  I’m surprised you don’t have a roommate.  You could rent out a room for a bit of money,” Benji suggested. 
   “I like to keep the spare bedroom in case someone decides to visit, or in case someone is in dire need of somewhere to stay,” I sighed.  “Or in case I get married and have a child, but that’s unlikely.” 
   “Unlikely?” 
   “Yes.  As in, it probably won’t happen,” I explained. 
   “You don’t know that,” He smiled.  “You just aren’t looking to get married.” 
   To me, it seemed as though he was being slightly flirtatious.  Not that he was unattractive; actually, he was quite the opposite.  Dark hair and blue eyes had always been my weakness, even in high school.  I didn’t dare get my hopes up and think he actually  was  attracted to me.  I never did. 
   “So, you’re just dropping by?” I asked, sitting down and crossing my legs, leaning to the right of my armchair.  
   “Yes, sort of.  I read your column in the newspaper.  You’re an excellent journalist,” He leaned forward in his chair. 
   “Oh!  Why, thank you,” I smiled and averted my gaze. 
   “It’s my pleasure.  Also… I’ve been taking a cooking class, you see, and I need someone polite to taste test some of my dishes.” 
   “Are you inviting me over for dinner?” 
   “Well… To put it simply, yes,” He cleared his throat.  “But it’s not a date.” 
   “Not a date.  Got it,” I pulled a tiny notepad and pen out from under the cushion on my chair and began to pretend to write.  “Anything else I should remember?” 
   “My house, seven o’clock, tonight.  No need to dress up,” He said, smiling slightly. 
   “In that case, I will see you tonight at your house at 7 o’clock, most likely in blue jeans and a t-shirt.” 
   “Fantastic.  Should I leave you so that you can shower?” He motioned toward the door. 
   “That would probably be a good idea.  I have an interview at 2:30, and I’m  never  late for an interview,” I stood, and he did as well. 
   “ Hasta luega,  Mackenzie,” Benji promptly left the house, and left me to my own mind and routine. 
   
   
   
   2 
   As soon as I heard Benji’s car leave my driveway, I set a change of clothes out on my bed and went to take a shower.  The warm water ran over my body and distracted me from what had just happened.  I was going to Benji’s house.  Perhaps it wasn’t meant to be a date, but it was set up the same as one.  “You’re losing yourself, Mackenzie.  It is a boy who has invited you over as a friend,” I told myself, and then went to think of other, more important matters.  I had an interview in just a few hours, and I had no clue what I was going to be able to get out of it.  All that I knew was that my boss told me that I should interview the town newcomer. 
   I’d seen her around some, in a store or during my occasional walks around town.  She was extremely petite, and had very blonde hair.  I suspect that she dyes it.  Unfortunately, that wouldn’t be an appropriate question to ask for an interview.  I’d never seen her eye color, though I would surely notice today.  I typically saw her while she was wearing sweatpants and a ratty sweatshirt.  My only hope was that she recognized the formality of the interview and at least wore presentable clothes, not something you would sleep in. 
   I was dressed and ready to go by 12:30, which would give me plenty of time to visit with Eliza.  I would probably ask if I could do any errands for her around town, since Joshua has been working after school cleaning the local library to support the family while she is still searching for work.  It would be hard to find until after the baby had come and could go to a babysitter.  She appreciated being able to stay at home and work.  It’s too bad she would have to go to work somewhere; she would make a lovely housewife. 
   I applied just a bit of makeup around my eyes.  I had always believed that I was average in appearance, with my eyes being my one true beauty.  On a typical day they were green, but they would occasionally change to brown, hazel, or even a delightful golden color due to the lighting or weather.  Today, they were simply green.  I elected to keep my dark brown hair down, holding back a few annoying strands with a bobby pin. 
   By 12:45, I was in my navy blue sedan going carefully down the side of a mountain towards the Browne house.  I’d driven up and down this narrow, windy path so many times that I could drive even this under the spell of road hypnotism.  Soon my car pulled up next to their house and I went up to the door.  I knocked five times, leaving even intervals between each knock.  Eliza and I had perfected this knock, which was our code to indicate I was at her door or she was at mine.  Within seconds, the door opened and my dear Eliza was waiting for me. 
   Eliza Browne was a pretty woman of average height.  She would be average weight if it weren’t for the enormity of her abdomen, but she was still fairly thin for a pregnant woman.  She had kind brown eyes, too many freckles to count, and sandy blonde hair full of bright streaks of blue, green, purple, and red.  She typically wore plain clothes that became splattered with paint within hours of being purchased.  She bit her fingernails, as well, so they were always short and rather unattractive, but she decorated them with bright nail polish.  
   “Afternoon, Kenzie!” She grinned, embracing me in a friendly hug.  Personally, I had never enjoyed hugs, but I couldn’t bear to tell Eliza this. 
   “Hello, Eliza,” I returned the hug.  “How are you today?” 
   “I’m doing just fine.  Did you bring your sketchpad?  Have you drawn anything new?” She bombarded me with questions, just as she always did. 
   “No, I haven’t drawn anything since I last visited,” I shrugged my shoulders apologetically.  “I’m just checking in on you.” 
   “I’m pregnant, not paralyzed,” She giggled.  Honestly, how did I ever manage to put up with all the hugging and giggling she did? 
   “And I’m a good friend,” I entered her home and took a seat in the living room.  “I was just seeing if I can do anything for you while I’m in town this afternoon.  I have an interview at 2:30.” 
   “With that Duncan girl, right?  How old do you suppose she is?” 
   “Older than me, and I’m 22.” 
   “I’d think around 30, but maybe that stupid hair dye she uses makes her appear older.  Like she’s trying to hard to look young or something.” 
   “That’s very possible,” I smiled slightly.  “Unfortunately, I don’t write up random bits of gossip.  I need fact in order to write something properly.” 
   “It’s a shame you’re only given 500 words per article, don’t you think?” 
   “It’s typically right where I would be, anyway.” 
   “Only because you’ve trained yourself to write such small articles.  You’re excellent at writing them.” 
   “I’m still fairly new to the paper.  The only person who’s been hired since I was is Charlie.” Charlie is a college aged boy who takes one day every week to write up a quick article on sports.  He emailed me what he wrote for me to submit while he’s in college, and he rents the apartment above headquarters in the summer.  He’s quite lucky that he can get the paper to pay for every sporting event he goes to. 
   “But you’re the best one they’ve got.  They should let you write more.” 
   “I’m fine with my limit, really,” I looked around, and then noticed an interesting smell.  “Are you baking something?” 
   “Yeah, I’m making a coffee cake for Josh.” 
   “It smells great.” 
   She grabbed a nearby piece of paper and a pen and scribbled something down.  “Here’s the recipe.  Feel free to drop by tonight for a slice.” 
   I almost agreed to join her and Joshua that night, but then remembered my plans with Benji.  “Sorry, I have dinner plans.” 
   “I thought you said your interview was at 2:30?” 
   I shook my head.  “Not the interview.  Something else.” 
   Eliza grabbed me by my hand and dragged me to the kitchen table.  “A date?” 
   “No, not exactly.” I shook my head.  “Do you have any coffee?” 
   “I know you’ve already had your two cups.  Do you really need a third?” She grinned, shaking her head, and poured me a mug of coffee.  “Decaf.” 
   “Thanks,” I accepted the mug and took a quick sip.  It was losing its heat. 
   “So, not a date, but plans with a boy?” Eliza joined me at the table. 
   “Exactly,” I nodded my head.  “I’m going to Benjamin Andrews’ house.  He’s cooking.” 
   “Benji?  He’s nice.  I approve.” 
   “This doesn’t require approval.  There’s nothing going on between the two of us.” 
   “Not yet.” Eliza stuck her tongue out at me.  Way mature. 
   “Not ever,” I took the final sip of my coffee, which had become cold.  “He’s never shown any interest.  Why would he now?” 
   “You’ve now given him reason to,” Eliza took my empty mug along with hers to her sink.  “But it’s 1:30, and I do need some things at the store…” 
   I grinned.  “Make me a list, I’ll get everything you need.” 
   Within ten minutes, I was out of the house and driving towards the small grocery store downtown.  By the time I got there, however, I only had twenty minutes until my interview.  Instead of entering the store, I decided to park next to it and walk to The Rose Garden.  It wasn’t far at all, and I could use the walk and fresh air.  It was a beautiful day; not too hot, not too cold, and the perfect amount of cloud cover.  I could feel the warmth of the sun on my skin, warming my body.  I knew that I should do this more often, for the vitamin D.  
   At 2:27, I was sitting in my usual table in The Rose Garden, the one in the corner farthest from all the windows and doors.  Perfectly private.  By the time Francine Duncan had arrived, I had been waiting for ten minutes and was halfway through my first cup of coffee.  She spotted me almost immediately, which I was thankful for.  I would never do anything such as wave my arms or call out to her in order to get her attention; I would receive attention from others if I did.  I hated receiving unnecessary attention. 
   “Good afternoon, Miss Duncan,” I offered, sitting up straighter in my seat. 
   I was thankful to see that she was wearing clean blue jeans and a formal shirt.  “Hey,” I see her vocabulary would continue to be informal.  
   “You can order anything you like.  The paper will pay,” I informed her motioning towards the single-page menu sitting in front of her. 
   “Oh, okay.  Thanks,” She flagged over a waitress.  “Hot chocolate, with whipped cream.  And I need some sort of protein, I don’t care what.  You pick.” She told the waitress, who hastily scribbled down the order and rushed off to the kitchen. 
   “Miss Duncan…” I began. 
   “Please, call me Fran,” She said. 
   “I’m Mackenzie Mills,” I said, offering my hand. 
   “Pleasure,” Fran returned, not taking up my handshake. “What did you want to talk about?” 
   She definitely didn’t seem interested in formalities.  She almost seemed… Rushed.  I took a small voice recorder out from my small purse and hit the button that started it.  “Well, Miss Duncan…” 
   “Fran,” She interrupted. 
   “Fran,” I corrected myself.  “I and many others are wondering what brings you to this area.” 
   “Isn’t it obvious?  I’m a hydrogeologist.  I study groundwater, and I’m here to do a quick study on the levels of certain minerals found in nearby wells.” 
   “How did you select this area?” 
   “It was here or the Rockies.  This is closer to home.” 
   “Where did you go to school?” 
   “I received a Bachelor’s Degree in Hydrology and Water Resources Science at the University of New Hampshire,” She replied.  I believe this is the first time she gave me a straight answer without any hints of attitude or annoyance. 
   “How did you choose to go into this study?” 
   “I wanted to go into some form of science, and I swam while I was in high school.  It made sense to me that I would study water.” 
   The waitress came with her hot chocolate and a turkey wrap.  I liked her taste; the wraps at this particular diner were exceptional.   Francine did not thank her. 
   “So, have you found anything interesting about our well water?” I inquired. 
   “I’m still waiting on some test results, but it’s obviously rich with minerals.  You can taste it.  That, however, is to be expected.  I do suspect that there’s something odd about the water here, though.  Something didn’t seem right to me,” She chewed on her lip.  “I can’t quite put my finger on it, though.” 
   “If you’d like to follow up this report at some point in the future, you can call the paper HQ and set up an appointment at any time.” 
   “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do that,” She said. 
   “Is there anything else to say about this line of work or your studies here?” 
   “I have three partners, you know,” She began.  “We’ve all gone to different places around the US to study the groundwater and such.  One of them is up in Maine, and we have two locations in the Rockies, too.  Perhaps I could have one of them call you about this?” 
   “I would, but unfortunately we try to stick to local stories in our paper.” 
   “Oh, okay,” She replied, looking nervously around the room.  “I’m sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be.  I’ll be watching the paper for the article.  Would it be this week?” 
   “Check the local businesses on Saturday morning for a copy,” I told her just before she rushed out of the diner.  I sighed when I realized that the paper would be paying for a half-finished cup of coffee and untouched hot chocolate, along with a turkey wrap that had been left uneaten. 
     
   I regrettably did not have time to change my clothing before meeting with Benji that night.  I looked far too dressy in my black slacks and royal blue blouse, and especially in heels.  But I spent too long with Eliza, and before that I couldn’t let the turkey wrap and hot chocolate go to waste.  
   Upon answering the door, Benji greeted me with, “I thought I told you  not  to dress up.” 
   “I didn’t have time to change after my interview this afternoon,” I justified my appearance.  “My apologies; I never would have done this otherwise.” 
   “Glad to know you wouldn’t waste time on looking good on my account.” 
   “Are you saying I don’t look good when I don’t try to?” 
   “Not at all.  In fact, you looked rather astonishing in that bathrobe this morning.” He smirked, and I felt blood rushing to my face. 
   “Perhaps if you hadn’t shown up unannounced, I would have gotten dressed,” I replied, pulling my hair back with the band I always kept around my wrist. 
   “What are you doing that for?” He questioned. 
   “Doing what?” I turned my head to look around his house.  I’d never been inside before. 
   “Putting up your hair,” He told me, using a tone that was telling me it should have been obvious.  “It looked nice.” 
   “It gets in my way,” I stated simply.  Then I noticed something out of the corner of my eye.  A basket of apples placed on a shelf.  “I see Agatha dropped by?” 
   “Yes, though I’ve never cared much for apples.  Take one, if you’d like,” He motioned toward the basket. 
   “I can’t,” I sighed.  The apples looked nearly perfect.  “I’m allergic.” 
   He looked a bit startled.  “Are you really?” 
   “Yes, quite unfortunately.” 
   “That’s a real shame,” He said.  “I make a fantastic apple pie.” 
   “I thought you said you don’t like apples,” I grinned slightly. 
   “It’s different when they’re baked and smothered in cinnamon and sugar,” He returned the grin. 
   “I suppose that’s true.” 
   The rest of the night was fairly uneventful and rather boring.  Benji was nice company, and an excellent chef.  I made sure to tell him so, and we made plans to get coffee that upcoming weekend.  I also took note that he was careful to make eye contact, and his eyes stayed on me while he was talking or listening to me.  Perhaps he is somewhat interested. 
   “I think I should probably get going,” I did eventually say.  I hadn’t been keeping an eye on the time, and when I finally did, it was much later than what I would’ve liked. 
   “That’s a shame, I’m enjoying your company, Kenzie,” He smiled a bit. 
   “My apologies.  I will see you on Saturday for coffee, though,” I rubbed my right eye. 
   “I can see you’re tired.  Go home and get some beauty sleep,” Benji rose from his chair, and I mimicked. 
   He led me to the door, not saying a word until he opened the door.  He simply whispered, “I will see you Saturday.” 
   I went home, put on sweatpants and a tank top, and immediately fell asleep.  
   At exactly 2:13 a.m., I received a phone call from Eliza Browne, announcing that her husband had been found dead. 
   
   
   Publication Date: June 25th 2013 https://www.bookrix.com/-clarinetgirl