The Vasterbottensost Affair

Robert Mucci

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Sujets

• Fiction
• Historical

Informations

• Publié par: Xlibris US
• Date de parution: 14 juillet 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781669836155
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

THE VASTERBOTTENSOST Affair
ROBERT MUCCI

Copyright © 2022 by Robert Mucci.
 
Library of Congress Control Number:
2022912384
ISBN:
Hardcover
978-1-6698-3617-9

Softcover
978-1-6698-3616-2

eBook
978-1-6698-3615-5
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
 
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
 
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.
 
 
 
 
 
 
Rev. date: 12/30/2022
 
 
 
 
 
Xlibris
844-714-8691
www.Xlibris.com
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For my beloved son, Peter, whose kindness and bravery knew no bounds.
My dear son, Nicholas, who has been given the heart and knowledge to solve the world’s problems.
My Mom and Dad, who sacrificed to give me the tools and opportunity to make something out of my life,
My loving wife, Joann, my guiding light of beacon’s bright, who shows me the path to heaven and for whom I could not live without.

T he rain fell in a tepid drizzle, cascading down as if lost with only gravity to guide it.
She watched the drops land all around her. Some crashed to earth. Others hit buildings and trees. Still others tapped her shoulders and kissed her cheeks. She marveled at the wonder of nature’s beauty knowing soon it would end. The evening sun would come out to play peek-a- boo from behind the clouds to scare the few remaining raindrops away.
Sondra held taut the leash on her pet dog, Jingles. Jingles was a shelter dog. Sondra fell in love when she first caught sight of him bouncing around in that metal cage. Sondra could hear him distinctly say in doggy dialect, “Get me out of here,” and so she did. A golden-colored retriever, full of the feistiness of a puppy, Sondra named him ‘Jingles’, from the sound she would hear when his dog tags clapped together. Ever since she rescued him, they became inseparable.
Sondra traversed the cobblestone street with Jingles in tow past the rows of parked cars that lined the curbs and onto the grassy parkway. In a few steps, they were on the sidewalk heading home. Jingles took the lead, his gait quickening as they approached the black wrought iron fence that surrounds the brownstone Sondra grew up in.
It was a stoic structure, built at the turn of the previous century, yet so well preserved as if seemingly built yesterday. A large exterior front porch, nine hands high, gave a good overview of the street. The porch was flanked by large wooden flower boxes and a six-foot-tall black wrought iron fence encompassed the perimeter of the grounds. A large brass lion’s mane knocker took up residence on the huge oak door that stood guard over the painted gray porch.
Sondra cherished all the childhood memories she had here: the birthday parties, playing with schoolmates, visiting with relatives, and one summer evening on the porch swing, her first kiss.
Up the steps they went.
Keys in hand, Sondra inserted a large black iron one into the lock, jiggling and twisting it till the tumbler turned, then rotating the old brass knob until the door opened to the foyer. There she hung her coat and peeked into the adjacent living room at the dark flagstone fireplace and thought it would be nice to get a fire going.
Soon the sound of crackling embers filled the air, and the golden firelight flickered dancing shadows on the living room walls. Now all she needed was a cup of hot tea and a good book to end a perfect day. Curling up on the sofa, she watched an old movie then fell asleep with faithful Jingles right there at her side. Tomorrow would be a busy day. She would have a lot to do.
While she slept, the moon wrapped itself in a blanket of silky cirrus clouds, and the earth silently continued its laborious spinning. It was well over a quarter turn and now the sun’s dawn rays reached out inch by inch ever so closer to her window pane. Jingles sensed it coming and quickly scampered to the window. The street was coming alive.
Sondra rose slowly, wiping some cinders from her hazel-brown eyes. Sometimes they showed shades of green, other times seemingly perfectly matching her wavy brown hair. Her thickly manicured eyebrows became more pronounced when she would wear her hair in bangs as she often did. Permanents and curls weren’t her thing. She wasn’t much on makeup either. She didn’t need it.
Not much time for breakfast, it always was a work in progress. A piece of buttered toast was the usual staple, only surpassed by the mandatory requisite freshly brewed cup of coffee and an occasional small glass of orange juice.
A hurried shower, a quick tango with the toothbrush, and she was ready to go. “Bye, Mom!” she would yell out as she briskly scurried out the door, trench coat flapping unbuttoned.
Sondra’s mom was a classy lady. Widowed much too early, she worked and raised Sondra and her two brothers as best she could, keeping a roof over their heads and sending them to school. She thought the only real use of the money she earned was for her kids. She never thought of herself. It was not a thought that would cross her mind.
The income from her job, along with her husband’s meager pension was enough to get by. Soon Tommy and Spencer followed their dad’s footsteps and enlisted into the armed forces. Tommy went overseas as did Spencer who would always say he was doing something he couldn’t talk about.
Spence would call and write whenever he could. He had to. He couldn’t cope thinking about his mom the day they informed her Tommy had died. He was killed in some unheard-of place by a nameless coward for some unknown reason on some unknown mission for what? That was all they knew. They didn’t tell her much, not much that would make sense anyway.
Sondra had gotten Jingles for Mom, just as much if not more than for herself. As tough as Mom was, she needed someone like Jingles to keep her mind in the sane part of town. Jingles could make her laugh. Jingles could give her love.
Some say Sondra got a lot of her looks from her father, especially her facial features. She had his eyes, a slightly narrow face, and his chiseled nose, but she had Mom’s cute smile and ears.
At five foot ten inches, she was equal in height to Tommy, and almost as tall as Spence.
Sondra always had a problem with boys.
The kind of problem all girls want to have. Tommy and Spence seemed to have a lot more friends come around because of her. She learned much about her male counterparts and much about herself. She grew. She was in control. She wasn’t ready to settle down quite just yet.
On workdays, Mom and Jingles kept each other company during the day. It was hard to say who was taking care of who. You could say they were taking care of each other.
Jingles was overly smart and alert for his breed or for any breed for that matter. Somewhere in his lineage, he acquired some savant genes. It was one of Sondra’s theories. Another one Sondra would kiddingly say was that Jingles survived a lightning strike and was infused with divine intelligence. It was just a little creepy how smart he was. There had to be some explanation. After all he did speak to her at the shelter. Now he was one of the family. Sondra felt relieved that he would be there for mom when she was away at work. He was a great watch dog.
One time when the mailman had made his rounds, Jingles watched him all the way until the last envelope and brochure made it into the black metal mailbox on the front porch. As the mailman left the porch and went down the steps, Jingles noticed the man’s wallet fall from his rear pocket and silently land at the foot of the steps. Jingles started barking loudly and started jumping at the glass storm door. The mailman heard the commotion and quickly turned to see his wallet lying on the ground. He looked up at Jingles and said, “Thanks, fella.”
Sondra drove to work every day in her black Volvo station wagon that she kept garaged at the rear of the property. It wasn’t a long ride, six miles or so, but the traffic always tested her driving survival skills. Motorists at that hour always seemed in a hurry, and drove as if they were the only ones on the road. Sondra did the best she could to stay out of their way.
She was used to the crazy traffic. It wasn’t until she was in her parking spot at work did she feel safe.
She walked into her office on the sixth floor after passing security there and at ground level.
Sondra had her own spot in the indoor parking garage, much to the envy of many coworkers.
Her spot was right near the elevator. She would easily flash her badge at the scanner and the elevator doors would open. Otherwise she would have to go through a retinal scan which was very annoying. If that didn’t work, she would have to call security on the picture phone and tell them she forgot her badge. How embarrassing. That happened once and she never heard the end of it.
Sondra entered the suite and proceeded to open the door to the inner rooms unnoticed.
Inside to the left a row of shiny brass hook