by K E O'Connor
“I am worried, and I don’t know.” But I was more interested in what I’d seen in the distance. I rubbed my eyes, not certain if what I was seeing was real. “I’ve just seen a tank.”
“What are you talking about?” Helen rattled the door handle again.
“There’s a tank in the garden.” I squinted and saw more military vehicles. “And a plane and some sort of missile launcher. And maybe a helicopter, but it’s hidden by some trees.”
“Someone in the family must be a collector,” said Helen. “Don’t concern yourself with the antiques in the garden. Get over here and help me with this door before I’m forced to break it down.”
“Don’t do that. It won’t make a good impression on our first day.” I took a final look at the weird garden ornaments and then walked over and tried the door handle. A sliver of concern shot through me as the door refused to budge. “He must have his reasons for locking us in.”
“The reason being he’s an idiot.” Helen thumped the door a couple of times.
I checked my watch and realized we’d been here for over an hour. I walked around the room and had a quick look through the desk drawers for any sign of a key, but there was nothing to aid in our escape. There were dozens of family photos in white frames on top of the desk and mantelpiece. The family shared the same Mediterranean colored skin, dark hair, and dark brown eyes. Not many of them seemed to know how to smile, though.
“I’m going to try a window.” Helen strode away from the door towards the bay window. “If Hog won’t let us out the door, we can get out this way.”
“I agree it is weird shutting us in. But if we get out, where are we going to go? And why do you want to get out so badly?” I asked. “Unless you’re desperate for the bathroom, can’t you wait a bit longer?”
“I’m desperate not to be a prisoner.” Helen pulled back the bolt on the window. “We work here; we’re not slaves. And we should be able to come and go as we please.” She shoved her shoulder against the window and began to push it up.
An ear-splitting alarm rang through the house, making us both jump.
“You did that,” I said to Helen. “Stop messing with the window. You triggered an alarm.”
“Why is there an alarm on the window?” Helen dashed away from the window and stared at it with wide eyes.
The door to the living room opened, and two men wearing black suits and sunglasses charged in. One had his hand inside his jacket as if he was going to pull out a weapon and attack us.
“Is there a problem, ladies?” asked the taller of the two men, his head pivoting around as he surveyed the scene of the crime.
“I was trying to get the window open to get some air,” stammered Helen. “I didn’t realize it would do that.”
One of the men hurried to the window, closed it, and shot the bolt back into place. The alarm instantly stopped. “There are a lot of antiques in this house, so you can never be too careful. All the downstairs windows have alarms that are triggered unless we turn them off. That way, we know if there are any unwanted intruders attempting to break in and take what isn’t theirs.”
“We’re not unwanted intruders,” I said. “But we would like to know why we’ve been kept in this room and haven’t been able to get out.”
The two men stood side by side in silence, their hands crossed behind their backs. For all I could see, they might be rolling their eyes at me. Or asleep. I needed to get myself a pair of those sunglasses.
I waited for an answer, but the men seemed content to stand there, blocking the doorway.
“Can either of you tell me why we’re being kept in this room?” I asked, my patience running out. “Just a clue will do. You can mime it for me if you’d like.”
“I’m good at charades,” said Helen. “How many syllables are we talking?”
“We’re following orders,” said the shorter man. “You need to wait here until the family returns.”
“Any chance of a bathroom break?” I asked.
“That can be arranged.”
“Who set off the alarm?” A shrill female voice sounded from behind the men, and I saw them tense and turn away.
Behind them was a bird-thin woman with silver hair in a neat bob and deep laughter lines around her eyes. She sat in a wheelchair, which she pushed forward briskly, her dark brown eyes boring into the two men in front of her. “Do I have to repeat myself?”
“It was an accident,” said the taller minder. “The blonde lady tried to open a window without knowing the rules.”
The elderly woman peered around the men to where Helen and I stood. Her gaze traveled over both of us in turn. “And you are?”
Even though she was the smallest person in the room, this lady gave off an air of power I’d never experienced before, similar to the strange vibe I got when I first entered the house. I’d have much rather crossed swords with the two muscled sunglass wearing goons than her. “We’re starting work with Elita. I’m Helen and this is Lorna.”
The woman clicked her tongue against her teeth. “And these idiots left you in here on your own?”
“We were told to,” said the taller minder. He looked at his colleague, and they shrugged in unison.
“You can both leave.” The woman dismissed them with a wave of a bony hand, her sharp gaze remaining on us.
The men left without saying a word and shut the door behind them.
The woman wheeled herself closer, and I saw her fingers were covered in expensive rings embedded with diamonds and emeralds.
“Do you need a hand with your chair?” asked Helen.
The woman snorted. “I’ve been pushing myself around in this thing for years. I’m not going to start asking for help now. Besides, I have a man who deals with my lack of muscle.”
Helen ducked her head and took a step back. Looked like she was feeling the same vibes as me when it came to the silver-haired firecracker in front of us.
“I’m Sylvia Cornell, your employer’s ex-mother-in-law.” She grinned. “That’s quite a mouthful. You can call me Sylvia.”
“Sorry to turn up at such a sad time,” I said. “It must be difficult losing a son.”
Sylvia’s chin dipped before her stern gaze returned to meet mine. “It’s part of life in this family. Loss is to be expected.”
I glanced at Helen and saw her face looked as puzzled as I felt. “Did you go to the funeral?”
“I stayed for the service,” said Sylvia, “but didn’t want to hang around with all the sycophants telling me how wonderful Lonnie was. They won’t get anything from me by throwing around their smooth lies.”
Why would mourners want to feed the deceased’s grieving mother lies? I chewed on my bottom lip, not sure how to respond.
“We’re going to have a small family wake here,” said Sylvia. “The others will return shortly. Elita will be with them, and she’ll want to meet you both. She’s been stressed out over the funeral arrangements.”
Flipper loped over from where he’d been investigating the corner of the room and wagged his tail as he stared at Sylvia.
“He’s a fine looking fellow.” Sylvia petted Flipper’s head. “Is he yours?”
I nodded. “Flipper’s my assistance dog.”
“He assists you with your work?” Sylvia gave me a strange look. “What does he do, sniff out explosives?”
I smiled. “Nothing like that. But I get fainting episodes from time to time, and he alerts me when one’s on the way. He’s good at picking up when I’m not feeling myself.” Well, he alerted me to the presence of ghosts, and they made me feel strange, so it was close enough to the truth.
Sylvia reached around the back of her chair and pulled an oversized black leather purse onto her lap. She unclipped the top, and a small white furry head popped out. “This is Reggie. The two of them can be friends.”
The tiny pure white dog hopped out of the purse and sat on Sylvia’s lap. He looked about the room before his gaze settled on Flipper and his eyes narrowed.
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br /> From that expression, I doubted Reggie was friends with anybody. “I’m sure the two of them will get along fine. Flipper is an easy-going dog.”
“I’m sure he is,” said Sylvia. “I can sense that about him. And as for those fainting fits you mentioned, it’s most likely because you have the sight.”
“I’m sorry?”
“I can see it on you, girl,” said Sylvia, waving a hand at me. “You’re one of those psychics.”
“I’m not,” I said, a stir of unease running through me. Did Sylvia know something about my ghost seeing ability?
“You know things.” Sylvia gave a confident nod. “And you can stop looking so worried. I’m the same as you. It takes one to know one, especially with our talents.”
I glanced at Helen, who gave me a worried look. This conversation had headed into weird territory very quickly. “And what’s your special talent, Sylvia?”
“I’m sixth sense enhanced,” said Sylvia. “My mother used to call it a curse, but I see it as a blessing. I have an ability most people are too blunt to recognize, or they ignore the signs if they do have some latent talent in them. It’s too scary for most to open up to. But get past the fear, and it’s worth it.”
Sylvia’s words were unsettling. “I can’t predict the future if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, I can. And I see the two of you doing great things in your short time here. Mark my words, your presence in this house is most welcome and needed. There has been unrest here, and that needs to change.” Sylvia petted Reggie’s head. “I had a vision we would be visited by two angels, who would rescue this family from the dark path being taken and help everyone back to where they should be. And here you are.”
“That’s flattering,” said Helen. “I don’t think anybody’s ever called me an angel before. Well, only a few guys who had a drink in their hands and too little sense in their heads.”
Sylvia laughed. “You’re going to fit right in here.”
“I’ll do a good job while I’m here,” I said. “But I’m not sure about rescuing anybody from a dark path. What do you mean by that? Is your family under some kind of threat?”
Sylvia played with Flipper’s ears as he sat happily next to her. Reggie growled quietly to himself, jealousy clear on his fuzzy face. “This family has become corrupt. We used to have such a true path. We knew what we were doing and how we were going to do it. But ever since Lonnie’s last job, everything’s gone wrong. I’m surprised he hasn’t been shot long before this.”
“Someone shot your son?” asked Helen.
Sylvia shook her head. “Nothing so dramatic, although it has been tried many times. There aren’t many Cornells who don’t have at least a graze from a bullet wound.” She rolled up the sleeve of her black dress to reveal a faded pink scar on her forearm.
“You’ve been shot?” Helen’s mouth gaped open. “Why would anyone want to shoot you?”
“I haven’t always been a little old lady in a wheelchair.” Sylvia rolled her sleeve down. “Forty years ago, I’d have given both of you a run for your money, in the fight department and the looks department. I was known for my ample charms.” She looked down at her flat chest and gave a shrug.
Helen snapped her mouth shut and looked at me, panic in her eyes.
“Do you mind me asking how your son died?” I was keen to clear up any possibility that a gun had been involved. What was this family into to make people want to shoot them?
“He was electrocuted,” said Sylvia. “Silly fool loved to listen to the golden oldies on the radio when he was in the bath and insisted on using an old-fashioned radio his late father gave him. He used to balance it on the edge of the bath, turn up the volume, and sing along at the top of his voice. I told him it was dangerous, but he didn’t listen to me. The radio was plugged into the mains, and when it hit the water, that was it. My Lonnie was found dead after the house lights went out. He fried the electrics when he died. How’s that for making a grand departure.”
“At least he died doing something he enjoyed,” said Helen.
That comment earned her a glare from Sylvia. “Better than being shot in the back of the head, I suppose.”
I blinked at that comment. I should have done my research on this family and not taken Josie’s word that the job would be an easy one.
“All of that is in Lonnie’s past, anyway,” said Sylvia. “And, as he got older, he had less to worry about. In fact, that’s why he went straight.”
Chapter 3
“When you say straight, what do you mean?” I asked Sylvia. She was talking as if her family were right out of the movie Goodfellas.
She flapped her bony hands in front of her face. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. Ignatius never likes me to talk about these things with people he doesn’t know. It makes him tense.”
She definitely should have mentioned it! I opened my mouth to ask more questions, just as the door was shoved open and a dark haired, tanned man of about thirty strode in. His chocolate brown eyes narrowed as he spotted Sylvia. “This is where you’ve been hiding.”
Sylvia glanced at the man and sighed. “I haven’t been hiding. I’ve been getting to know our new house guests.”
“Ladies.” The man glanced at me and Helen. “Sylvia, you promised me you’d go straight to your room when we returned. I only brought you back from the service early because you said you weren’t feeling well.”
Sylvia sighed again. “Michael Maccarone, meet Lorna and Helen. Most of his brains are in his overly-developed biceps, and he has yet to learn good manners.”
Michael’s hands clenched, and he shuffled his feet. “My apologies for not making a formal introduction, but I can’t leave you on your own. Elita wouldn’t like it.”
“Elita knows I can take care of myself.” Sylvia smiled and winked at me. “And you don’t need to say sorry; we love you just the way you are. Girls, if you ever have a head to break, Michael is your man. He’s also good at opening stuck jar lids and lifting heavy objects.”
A faint blush crossed Michael’s cheeks as he took hold of the handles on the back of Sylvia’s wheelchair. “It’s nice to meet you, ladies. I didn’t mean to be rude, but Mrs. Cornell needs her rest, doctor’s orders. She shouldn’t overexert herself, and she shouldn’t push herself around in this chair. That’s part of my job.”
“Such nonsense,” said Sylvia. “The doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. If I don’t get any exercise, I’ll be too weak to do anything. Now, why don’t you be a good boy and get us all some tea and cake? I want to learn more about Helen and Lorna.”
“I’ll call through to the kitchen and get them to arrange that for you,” said Michael.
I could see from the tight set of Michael’s shoulders that he was uncomfortable being bossed around by Sylvia. But I also got the impression that was how she operated and was used to getting her own way.
The tense feeling I had increased as I heard voices in the hallway. I couldn’t shake the bad feeling I had about this family. It might be a good idea to get out while we still could, make some excuse to leave before even starting work. The menacing feel in the house was growing worse and, along with it, a headache behind my eyes.
Sylvia cocked her head as she also heard the voices. “That’s the rest of the family back from the service. You must come to meet them.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t,” I said. “A family wake is a private affair. You must want time to grieve. Having two strangers in your midst will make that difficult.”
“I insist,” said Sylvia. “The family will appreciate having something positive to focus upon. And the two of you brighten up the house. It’s been a miserable place with all the backbiting and mean comments people say to each other. We need some fun.”
I looked at Helen and gave her a discreet shrug. It appeared we had no choice but to attend the wake and meet our new employer there.
Sylvia spun her chair out of Michael’s grip with surprising speed a
nd shoved herself forward. Michael went to grab the back again, but she shoved one wheel of the chair over his large, black-clad foot and waved him off. “Stop nannying me. I can look after myself.”
Michael shot me an exasperated look, before limping behind the wheelchair at a discreet distance. He must value his toes enough not to risk forcing Sylvia into doing something she didn’t want to do.
“Do we have to go to this wake?” Helen looked down at her brightly colored dress. “Won’t they think it’s odd we’re there?”
“I would if a couple of strangers rocked up at a family funeral I was at, but it looks like we aren’t getting an option to escape.”
We followed Michael and Sylvia and walked the short distance along the hallway into a smart parlor, which was decked out in scarlet and gold furnishings.
In the center of the room sat a large table, covered with a red tablecloth, and groaning under the weight of food and drink.
“Yummy, look at all the food,” said Helen. “Maybe this won’t be so bad.”
I nodded, but my attention was drawn to an intense conversation by the window.
“It’s not right she’s here.” A slim, dark-haired woman with a suspiciously large chest glared at a weeping older woman on the opposite side of the room.
“Lonnie would want her here. She’s a part of this family as much as you are.” A tall, immaculately dressed man with slicked back hair stood next to the big chested woman.
“But I’m his wife.”
“As was she,” muttered the man, “until you took him away from her.”
“That’s not my problem. She should have learned how to keep hold of her man.” The woman sniffed and looked around. Her gaze settled on me for a second before shifting away. “I want her gone.”
“I’m going nowhere.” The older woman threw down the handkerchief she held and stalked over. “This is my house, and you should be the one leaving. You’re an embarrassment to this family.”
“I’m the embarrassment! You’re the one who couldn’t keep hold of Lonnie, despite all the filler in your face. And how many facelifts have you had? A dozen wouldn’t make any difference. He was always going to be with me.”