Death Of A Highland Heavyweight

It started with the robberies. I doubt anyone would have noticed anything missing if Mom and I hadn’t been browsing through wedding magazines at my place. We were searching for the perfect bridesmaid dress, one that would suit both my sister-in-law, Sasha, and my cousin, Ashleigh, when Mom mentioned she couldn’t find her kitchen frog—you know, those little ceramic creatures that hold pot scrubby pads.

Ash is a frog fanatic. She collects frog everything, which was why frogs and bridesmaid dresses went together in Mom’s mind.

“Come to think of it,” I said, leaning back to see into my postage stamp kitchen, “I haven’t seen mine for a while either.”

I live above my shop, Dunmaglass, and after last year’s break-in, I’d installed a mega security system. No one should be able to sneak in and abscond with anything—even my kitchen frog.

“We should report the thefts to the police. Andrew’s been complaining that business is dull this summer.”

My brother, Andrew, was one of three local law enforcement officers.

Mom closed the magazine and reached for a new one. “Don’t go wishing for another crime spree, Gailynn MacDonald. We’ve had enough in this town to last a lifetime.”

“I don’t think the Simmons brothers getting caught siphoning gas for their lawnmower constitutes a crime spree, Mom.”

“Neither is a couple of missing kitchen frogs.”

“You never know,” I said. “First kitchen frogs, then small appliances, freezers. Imagine the hoopla if we had a ring of freezer raiders on our hands.”

I clicked my tongue as Mom wiped laughter-tears from her cheeks.

“You laugh now, but mark my words, this is bigger than a couple of kitchen frogs.”

She pushed her new magazine across the table. “Look, I’ve found the perfect dress.”

I was doubtful, but Mom, an avid sewer, sees things I miss at first glance.

She tapped the picture with her finger. “All we need to do is change the shoulders, tuck the waist a bit, and lengthen the hem. We could even eliminate the lace ruffles, if you like.” She smiled triumphantly.

“And it’ll have to be lavender.”

“Purple?” She crinkled her nose with disdain.

“Lavender. Otherwise it’s perfect.”

And that was the last time I thought about missing kitchen frogs until I discovered Carrie Hunter-Oui administering CPR to her husband in the middle of her back hallway.

JAYNE E.SELF is passionate about God, words and mysteries--in that order. She's been a telephone operator, a chambermaid, a nurse and a wife. She's lived in many parts of Canada and traveled to exotic locations. These expereinces have become backdrops that colour her writing and influence her characters.

A pastor's wife, Bible study leader, women's speaker and church musician Jayne and her husband Harvey raised their three sons in a beautiful 100 year old manse in Orangeville, Ontario, Canada. She spends her summers at their ocean-side cottage in Nova Scotia.