Farmhouse Dinner

Christina wondered how long she should wait before she reported her husband missing. Two days seemed too soon, but a week too long. Who would take a whole week to notice their husband missing?

 She held her hot cocoa in both hands, sipping it slowly as she watched the gentle flakes drifting through the pine trees. The first cold snap of the season had come with several inches of snow, and it covered the ground in a white, soft blanket.

  She loved being alone in her kitchen, and had spent the morning rearranging her utensils, the pots, and her knives for practical use. Everything had a place, and a place for everything. Christina looked around her small house, the contour of her entire world. She didn’t miss him, the house felt lighter, cleaner since he walked out the door that last time. Did she even want him back in her life?

 She frowned. She had to get back to work, Mick’s words rang in her head, ‘stop standing, get working!’ Mick couldn’t abide her standing still, everyone, and everything on the farm had to have a use. Mick, of course excepted. He could sit around and drink, complaining the world had it in for him. She put on Mick’s thick flannel jacket, much better than her own, only slightly too large and checked on the chickens, tossing seeds to them, then the few sheep, all safe in the barn. She looked around at what needed fixing, potential improvements. New opportunities for the old equipment clicked through her mind, adding to the long list. She lifted a bale of hay high to drop in the feed chute, the years of farm labor had made her body strong.  

 Once back inside she looked in the refrigerator. The meat she had pulled out from the deep freezer had thawed, and so she added spices, putting it in the oven with yellow potatoes, and peas. She wiped the clean, pristine counter, then looked around at the sparkling kitchen, frowning at the lingering cigarette smoke smell, still recognizable underneath the Pine-Sol she had dosed the room with.

It had been three days since Mick had walked out of the door, and that seemed about right. She sat down at the kitchen table in front of the phone on the wall, smoothed her faded, blue gingham dress as if they could see her, then called the police.

 “My husband Mick is missing.” She said, surprised at the real tears rolling down her cheek. She did miss Mick, his warm body, and his gentle laugh. She missed him like she missed being a little girl, when she would wear pretty dresses, dreamt of a prince to marry, and her future loomed bright on the horizon. Except those days were gone, just like Mick. What if they actually found him? She had new dreams now.

  “Coffee, officers, or hot cocoa maybe?” Christina’s voice met the officers as they walked into her warm kitchen, a powder of snowflakes on their dark uniform jackets. They introduced themselves as they came in.

“Detective Sergeant John Maloney.” Tall and thick with a jaw like a dump truck, he stomped his feet on the stoop before ducking into the house. Behind him, slight and pretty, with her blonde hair pulled back tight in a bun, “Officer Kelly Marks” stepped inside.

 “That’s quite a road to get here! Lucky we had my 4x4 Bronco. Your little Jap car would've never made it through!” DS Maloney’s voice boomed in the small house, looking over at Officer Marks, who just grimaced at the repeated joke.

 “Thanks.” DS Maloney took a coffee, and Officer Marks took a hot cocoa, with a ‘Graci- has’”.

 “I speak English…”

“So, you are Christina Santos, and you called about a missing person, a Mickey, mickey mouse maybe?” DS Maloney laughed with both thick hands on his hips, his elbows waving, the international flags of ‘asshole’. 

 DS Maloney snorted at his joke, both women's’ eyes stayed on the floor.

 “His name was Mick.’ Christina said in a low voice.

“Mick your husband has been missing,” Officer Marks looked down at a small pristine notebook, “for three days?”

 “Yes.” Christina wiped her eyes with her apron. “Mick went out, said he wanted to get something from town. But his truck is still here. Sometimes he goes to a neighbor's house, or the bar in town, oh I don't know.” Christina, clenched her apron, over and over. 

 “Did you look for him, or call anyone?” DS Maloney barked.

“I don’t know who to call, I don’t know his friends, other than the men at The Iron Door, in town. I called the bar, but he wasn’t there.”

“OK. do you have a description?” Officer Marks, held her pen at the ready. “We can call the local hospitals, other police stations to see if he has turned up.”

 “Well he’s a bit taller than me, has dark hair and thicker,” she put her arms out, forming a large belly, “and his face-" Christina squinted one eye closed and turned her face into a deep scowl.

 “Ohh.” Office Marks turned away with a frown.

 “Mean mug. Any idea where he could be?” DS Maloney looked in a cupboard, as if the missing man had been put with the canned peaches, instead of the tins of sardines.

“Maybe he was walking in the forest, chasing a dog, or a deer, and he fell and broke his leg,” Christina mimed her leg collapsing, hopping, “and then in the snow…” She wrapped her arms around herself, and shivered. “Or a wolf got him. ” Her strong hands turned into a biting wolf, attacking Officer Marks’ arm, who leapt back from the snarling, yapping fingers.

“But most likely, he just run off, tired of me.” Christina’s chin fell into her chest. 

 DS Maloney and Officer Marks caught each others eyes.

 “I’ll check outside, you look around in here.” DS Maloney leaned into Christina’s face. "It's OK we look around, right- nothing to hide?”

 Officer Marks meandered through the house, rubbing her finger on a shelf and then looking at her dustless glove. She opened a tall door in the kitchen, then her eyes went wide. She pulled a broom out of the closet, “What’s this?”

 DS Maloney walked back in. “The new snow covered any possible evidence. I found the meat freezer, you're well stocked for the winter so that's good. I didn't see much else-"

Officer Marks held up a well used broom with dark red coloring on the end of the handle.

 “My broom.” Christina offered. 

 “Is this blood?” DS Maloney took the broom, his eyes blazing.

 “Sometimes-" Christina hands squeezed her apron against sharing her secret shame. "Mick used that if the kitchen wasn't clean enough-”

 Officer Marks looked around the kitchen with her eyes raised. “We’re going to test this for blood- you want to change your story?"

 “No, you can see.” Christina pulled her hair back to show a gash, dried blood still dotting the wound. “I cleaned up the rest.” She collapsed in a chair.

 “Mick used to be helpful, but we lost so many sheep with the Scrapie outbreak. Then with his drinking… I wasn’t allowed to leave, just work the farm. Mick wanted me to do so much, but he did nothing but drink, and curse, and hit…” Christina fell into deep sobs, her face in her apron. “He just wasn’t any use, don’t you see?”

 DS Maloney looked away, then his nose lifted into the air- “Well that smells good, what is that?"

 Christina looked up. "That’s dinner, I thawed some meat, I needed to cook it.”

She stood up, and looked in the oven. “It’s done now. I can’t eat it all. I had hoped Mick would come home, for dinner, but.” Christina pulled a long roast out of the oven, the meat pulling back from the bone, rosemary and thyme filled the kitchen with the aromas from the well cooked meat. “Do you want some? We can’t let anything go to waste on a farm.”

 DS Maloney looked at Christina, his eyes narrow and then smiled. “Heck yah! I’m starving.”

Sitting at the table, he had a large napkin tucked into his shirt collar, a knife in one hand a fork in the other. 

“We can’t do any more searching now, it is too dark and cold.” He belched, loudly. "This is real good by the way. I have an idea,” he pointed his fork at Officer Marks. “Back at the station you call around, hospitals, other police stations. I bet he’s in someone’s drunk tank sleeping off a bender.”

 “Good idea sir.” Officer Marks's eyes swept the ceiling before turning to Christina.

“I thought this would be lamb, since you have a sheep farm, but it is something different?"

 Christina looked up, her mouth dropped open, before she clenched her teeth. “Pig.” She muttered. “A little tough, but pretty good I agree.” She stood up and went to her refrigerator. “I have more,” she pulled out several bundles in rolled and taped butcher paper. “Here is some ground meat, I can’t use it all, you should take it.”

DS Maloney pulled off his napkin as he stood up and took the packages.

 “We’ll contact you when we have anything further.” He nodded and left the kitchen.

 Officer Marks’ jumped up to follow DS Maloney outside.

 “Sir, There was obviously a fight in that kitchen. I read a story once about a wife who killed her husband with a frozen lamp chop and then fed it to the officers who came to interview her. Do you think…?”

DS Maloney narrowed his eyes at Officer Marks, before shaking his head. 

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard of. There is no body. No, he just left, not that I blame him. She’s not all there.” He spun his finger around his ear. 

Officer Marks stepped back inside. Christina stood at the sink, washing a large meat cleaver. 

“We’re going to go, thanks for the meal.” Officer Marks headed for the door, then turned back. “You know, I had the craziest idea that you killed your husband with that meat you served us, to get rid of the evidence.”

Christina’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, that would’ve been so much easier!”

Christina shook her head, and leaned back into the sink to get to work on the dishes, and her new life.