The Mint Julep Murders

by Angie Fox

  He was my kind of guy.

  “Bye.” He turned and floated away from me. I hadn’t even gotten his name.

  “Well, hold on,” I said, forcing my legs to move, to go after him. He still intimidated the heck out of me, but he didn’t seem to mean any harm. And if he’d been watching us, there was a good chance he’d seen what the Burowskis did after I left the third floor. “Did you see what happened to the people I didn’t let into your room?”

  Maybe he’d seen Tom or Joan go down the body chute.

  “I’m not allowed to leave my room,” he said, disappearing through the door near the stairwell.

  But he had.

  I hurried to catch up, dodging the metal chair in the hall. “I won’t tell anybody you left,” I said, pressing close to his battered wooden door. “Or that you even leave sometimes,” I added on a whisper. It was his secret, not mine. I mean, who wouldn’t want to get out once in a while? To spend eternity in a room, even with books, couldn’t feel good.

  The ghost didn’t answer.

  I rested a palm flat against the battered wood. Frankie would say I had other things to do. That I needed to let the lonely ghost live his afterlife. But this man had brought me up here to thank me. He’d reached out, and he obviously didn’t know what to do next.

  I knocked gently on his door. “I’m still here if you want to talk.”

  A howling wind rushed against the trees outside. Rain pounded the windows, and the ghost remained silent.

  “I enjoyed meeting you,” I added.

  It was true. Except for when he’d scared the socks off me.

  “I just want to read in peace,” he said thickly.

  I rested my fingertips on the door. I understood the feeling, wanting to stay with the very real people he found between the pages. But books were a pleasure, not all there was to life. “What book are you reading?” I asked, tracing a finger over a knot in the wood.

  After a long silence, he answered, “The Count of Monte Cristo.”

  About a man who escaped his one-room prison and did amazing things.

  “I like how he learns all those languages in prison,” I said, eyeing the deserted hallway, the double row of locked doors. “He must have been very smart.”

  “It’s easy to study when there’s nothing else to do,” he said simply.

  He’d been kept in here too long. No wonder he was socially rusty. “Can I come in?”

  “No.”

  I nodded. “I understand.” I’d kept Tom and Joan out of his room because I felt he shouldn’t be bothered, and now I was the one hovering outside, wanting something.

  I chewed my lip. Part of me wanted to give him back his peace and quiet. The trouble was, this was more than just a friendly chat. I was part of a group being kept against our will, and if this ghost had any information that might help us get out, then I had to pry it out of him. I had a responsibility to Ellis and Cash and Brett, to Joan and Tom (if he wasn’t guilty), and even to Barbara, who lay dead downstairs.

  “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,” I said to the ghost. “But I’m trapped in here with some people I don’t know, and one of them may have killed somebody. I’m scared, and I need your help.”

  He didn’t respond.

  Why should he? The problems of the living didn’t impact him. Nobody could murder him. And he was already trapped in this asylum.

  I pushed away from the door, a hollow feeling gnawing at me. I’d just missed an opportunity I’d never planned to have, but it was a loss all the same.

  “Well, dang it all to Sunday.” I placed my hands on my hips, not sure what to do next. Abandon the giant ghost and my chance to learn about Tom and Joan’s movements on the third floor? Get my butt back down to Ellis? He was probably climbing the walls worried about me, or perhaps even now pegging the killer returning to the scene of the crime.

  The lock on the door rattled.

  I dropped my hands and watched it open slowly.

  I made no move. I didn’t push.

  The giant stood warily, peeking out from behind the scarred wood door as if holding a shield. “I’m scared, too.”

  I understood. “What’s your name?”

  “Levi,” he murmured as if he wasn’t used to saying it.

  Bookcases lined the walls behind him, stuffed full. More volumes lay stacked in neat piles next to the bookcases. A worn wingback chair hunkered by the window next to a birdcage with two ghostly cardinals inside.

  “You have pretty birds,” I told him.

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Their names are Jim and Billy Bones. They were hurt. I fixed them up and they decided to stay.”

  “I rescued a skunk named Lucy,” I said, smiling at the thought of her. “When she was a baby, she used to like to hide in my sock drawer. I think it made her feel safe.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up in the start of a brief grin.

  He glanced over his shoulder, to the safety that lay behind him. “You shouldn’t be in here. Nobody’s supposed to be in my room except for the doctor and the nurse.”

  “I’ll stay outside,” I promised. I wouldn’t do anything to upset him. “I can also lock your door if you want. That way no living people will be able to come inside,” I added. “I lied to those two people earlier, but now I have keys I can use to keep you safe.” Hopefully one of Barbara’s would work. If not, I’d find one that would.

  This was important. He deserved a safe place.

  Levi nodded his head over and over. “There’s also Mr. Rink. You should lock his room, too.” He shifted his gaze to the floor. “He cries. I hear him.”

  That was the man Nurse Claymore had mentioned. The one who cut himself from the stress of living visitors. “Where is he?”

  Levi hid his face behind the door until I only saw tufts of hair sticking out. “Down past the body elevator. The pretty lady next door knows.”

  “Is she friends with him?”

  He let out a low huff. “She tries to help the sad ones.”

  Well, I could certainly respect that. “How can I meet her?”

  “She walks up and down the halls. She can’t help herself.”

  I hoped she’d been taking invigorating strolls, but I somehow doubted it. “What is her name?” I would have asked her directly, but she’d disappeared the minute I tried to talk to her.

  “I don’t know.” Levi clicked his door closed, the lock twisting in the other realm. “I hide from her. I hide from everybody.”

  I placed a hand on his door as if I could give him a comforting touch that way. “I’m sorry you have to hide.”

  “Nobody should see me.”

  “That’s not true at all. I’d like to see you again.” If he’d let me.

  He gave no response.

  That was fine. “Thank you for talking with me.” He’d already given enough of himself. He’d sought me out to thank me when he didn’t like going out at all. He’d spoken to me when it was obvious he didn’t interact much with others.

  I pulled Barbara’s keys out of my pocket, careful to touch them through the rag I’d wrapped them in. I started with the smaller ones first and soon found a key that fit Levi’s door. I twisted the key and heard the lock click. “Now it’s locked on my side as well. Nobody else will disturb you.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “I enjoyed meeting you,” I told him and was surprised to hear a low, throaty sound right on the other side of the door. It sounded like thank you.

  I steadied myself and walked next door. I knocked, and when I received no response, I opened the door and stepped into the spartan room I’d seen earlier that night. The walls glowed with an eerie, ghostly light. I didn’t see the petite ghost in the long black dress. The narrow bed against the wall lay empty. Rain pounded the glass in a window overlooking the graveyard out back. A modest desk stood in front of it, the fountain pen resting in its holder. Yet I could feel her presence.

  I walked over to the desk. It’s not my fault. She
’d written the words over and over. I wondered if she believed them.

  “It’s not your fault,” I repeated.

  “Get out.” The frail woman I’d seen before stood in the open door, her face a mask of hate. Blood streaked in rivulets down her forehead, into her eyes, down her cheeks and to the collar at her throat.

  “I’m sorry!” I said, stumbling back, knocking her ghost pen off the desk, which sent a wet shock straight to my bones. “You scared me!”

  She reared back, and for a second, I thought she would blow straight through me. Then I saw her hands clutching the doorframe so hard her fingers had gone white. She steadied herself. I watched her struggle for calm. “My apologies,” she said at last. “I don’t want to be a person who frightens.”

  She forced herself off the door, unsteady on her feet. Blood dripped from her forehead onto the floor and disappeared.

  “I’m sorry too,” I said, “I shouldn’t have entered your private space without permission.” I approached her slowly as I spoke, wishing I could help her to her bed. “You should lie down.”

  The corner of her lip curled, and she huffed. She rubbed the blood on her forehead, smearing it into a messy streak. “I’m not a wilting flower.” She moved to her desk and sat with her back straight. I could tell it cost her. She closed her eyes, breathing hard as if willing the pain and the bleeding to stop. “You should leave until I’m more presentable.”

  Perhaps. But I didn’t want to leave her alone and in pain.

  I sat on the remains of the bed. The rusted metal frame creaked under my weight. “Who did this to you?”

  Fingers fumbling, she tried to arrange her hair over the gaping wound. She failed. “I was restless. Dr. Anderson ordered a procedure to calm me down.”

  Oh, my God. They’d drilled into her skull.

  “That’s awful,” I whispered on a breath. I would have thought he was more advanced, that his level of caring didn’t stretch to such barbaric practices. He’d claimed to have the patients’ best interests at heart.

  He’d said he was treating them. Perhaps by the standards of his time, he was.

  “Oh…” I trailed off.

  “Juliet,” she finished for me.

  “Juliet,” I repeated, feeling so terrible for her and everyone in this place.

  She gave a small snort at my obvious horror. “I was one of the lucky ones. I died on the table before it could take. Or I’d be like poor Mr. Rink down the hall.” She shuddered and eyed me cautiously. “He has no mind left.”

  “I’m so sorry you died that way.” I couldn’t imagine the horror.

  She looked down at her hands. “My mother always said I had a weak heart. I’m glad for it now.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, repeating myself, my mind scrambling for what I could do for Juliet. For any of them. Dr. Anderson was in charge of this hospital. He was the dominant ghost. There was no way to protect her from his efforts to care for her. She had to live with her tormentor and, I assumed, relive her torment here. “Is there any way you can leave?” I pressed.

  She kept her eyes averted. “None.” The blood began to dry and fade. “I’m trapped until the doctor deems me well enough to go into the light.”

  “I have keys now,” I said, reaching for them in my pocket. “I’ll lock the door. That should at least keep the living out of your room.” It sounded like a small comfort, even to my ears.

  She managed a smile for me. “Thank you.” I nodded and moved to stand so I could lock her away. The irony did not escape me. “I used to be the one to help scared women,” she added wistfully.

  I sat back down. Let her talk.

  She threaded her hands together. “Ladies used to come to me when they were at their lowest, when they felt they couldn’t live in this place even one more day. We talked. I did my best to help them feel better.”

  “That’s…that’s good.” I could understand the need.

  Her eyes met mine. “You may come into my room,” she said. “The door is always open to women who need help. But please don’t disturb Levi or Mr. Rink.”

  I nodded. “I met Levi. He’s kind.”

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “Then you’re one of the few. He always stays in his room.”

  “Why don’t they let him out?” I asked. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him.

  “They say they can’t have patients wandering the halls. It’s not safe.”

  “So the solution is to lock him up for eternity?” I huffed.

  “Unfortunately, Levi is used to it,” she confided. “His parents committed him when he was a boy. They said he’d grown to seven feet by the time he was twelve years old. He’d become something nobody understood. So they kept him here.”

  “Poor man,” I said on a whisper.

  “Yes,” she agreed.

  I held my hands against my knees and decided to press my luck. “It doesn’t seem like you belong here, either.”

  She stood and turned away from me to face the window. “I made a mistake.”

  I fidgeted, the rusty bed creaking under me. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

  “I made too hasty of a marriage.”

  “Plenty of people have done that,” I assured her. “I almost made a similar mistake myself.”

  She stared out the window at the rain. “He fell out of love with me. Or maybe he never loved me.” She lowered her head. “He soon had a paramour. He loved her madly, if rumors were to be believed. But he couldn’t divorce me. It wasn’t done. So he abandoned me here.”

  “Wait.” I stood up, the bed rattling. “You’re here because some guy wanted to date?”

  She pressed her fingers on the window as the rain traced rivulets down the glass. “He had me declared insane so that the marriage could be annulled. Then he married her.”

  “That can’t have been legal,” I protested. “Not even…when?”

  “1897,” she supplied.

  “Even then,” I insisted.

  “I am told I’m deficient,” she said as if it had been recited to her over and over again. “I am too strong-willed.” She turned to face me. The blood had faded completely now, but I could still see the raw wound on the left side of her forehead, near her hairline. “But you’re right. I shouldn’t be here. What happened to me was wrong.” She pressed her lips together. “It’s not my fault.”

  I nodded, wishing I could hug her. “I suppose you have to remind yourself of that sometimes.”

  “Yes,” she said quickly.

  “It’s not your fault,” I assured her.

  She made another attempt to arrange her hair over the wound. “I stayed who I am despite my husband. Despite the doctors and the treatments and all the years I’ve been locked up. Dr. Anderson wasn’t the first.” She drew her head high. “I helped other girls. There were a lot of us at one time, committed for being difficult or sad or for being widows who grieved too loud or too long.”

  “You’re a good person,” I assured her. “I’m glad you could help the women here.”

  Her lips tilted up, rueful. “I had nowhere else to go.”

  “You do now,” I said, venturing closer. “You can go to the light.” I wasn’t an expert on how to do it, but I could try to help.

  “The doctor won’t let me,” she said, as if that was that. “And I confess there is comfort in that.” She sighed. “I do not wish to see anyone from my former life.”

  “You can’t know what will happen.” Even if they were there, she could try to avoid them.

  “I refuse to take the chance,” she insisted.

  Most people talked about the light as a place of peace and love. I didn’t want to say it so plainly, but, “I doubt your jerk of an ex-husband is—”

  “I wish to stay here,” she said firmly. “Mr. Rink needs me. Even Levi,” she said, glancing at the wall that divided them. “He feels better knowing I’m here, that he’s not alone.”

  “You deserve better,” I told her. “You need to think
of yourself for once.” It seemed like no one else ever had.

  “Well—” she smiled gently, her hands pressed to her skirts “—you seem to be over your fright.”

  It was true. I wasn’t scared anymore. At least not of her, not when she was trying to mother me. “Levi said you walk the halls.”

  She glanced at the door. “I check on the others. Only the sickest are left, and Nurse Claymore has her hands full.”

  Still helping. I wouldn’t argue with her about it anymore.

  “You realize Nurse Claymore is a doctor, too,” I said.

  Juliet looked at me as if I’d told her Nurse Claymore could fly. “She’s a woman.”

  We’d fight that battle later.

  “Did you see a man and a woman earlier this evening?” I asked, hoping. Ghosts could be squirrely when it came to timelines. They didn’t always watch the clock as closely as the living.

  She watched me carefully. “There was a couple in the empty room facing the front.”

  “Yes.” I’d put them there. “I think they left down the body elevator.”

  “No,” she said, blowing my theory with a single word.

  “Are you absolutely certain?” I pressed. The body elevator had been used recently, at least Ellis and I strongly suspected it.

  “Positive,” she assured me. “I watched them to make certain they would not disturb Mr. Rink. The couple went downstairs but used a different way.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. “Show me?”

  She smiled demurely and led the way.

  14

  “I feel as if I am on an adventure,” the ghost confided, leading me down the dark hallway. She glowed gray against the night, her black dress trailing out behind her, as if on an invisible wind.

  “I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night,” I said, going for honesty as well.

  Juliet laughed, clear and bright. “Oh, how I’ve missed having another woman to talk with.”

  “There aren’t any others here?” I asked, trying to keep up. She was moving fast.

  She turned, and I nearly passed straight through her. “None healthy enough to truly keep me company,” she said, wringing her hands. “I know that shouldn’t matter.” She lifted her chin. “It doesn’t.”