Haunted Be the Holidays

by Heather Graham

  In honor of the Celtic concept of the holiday, perhaps—and perhaps to draw large audiences who loved a touch of the gruesome and frightening, but only at a distance—they would open with a brand-new take on Mary Shelley’s classic of Frankenstein, or the Modern Prometheus—with Caroline performing the role of the doctor’s fiancée. An unbelievable song had been written for her, a lovely lament that came at the climax of the play. Their version of the classic was called The Rising of Monsters and Men.

  Judson would be there, front row, proudly clapping his beloved on.

  Of course, the opening had been set before they had realized the date—All Hallows’ Eve, or All Saints’ Day Eve. They had never meant to be disrespectful, and of course, Judson had talked to all the priests and pastors he knew.

  If a grand opening didn’t hamper services, all was fine.

  And, to placate the Irish and those of Celtic backgrounds, Judson had studied Jack-O-Lanterns. Apparently, some unlucky fellow named Jack had made a deal with the devil and was forced to walk around some kind of purgatory in the dark…so he had to carry a turnip with a candle to keep the darkness at bay.

  There would be carved lanterns in the lobby as theater-goers entered.

  Everything was covered. Because of Judson.

  Life was amazing.

  They stood before the stage, Caroline and her beloved Judson, just admiring the work of the stagecraft team. The set was perfect, the lighting having been carefully crafted. The orchestra was excellent, and she knew she had been gifted with a sweet and clear voice, one that would fill the grand cavern of the theater.

  And yet, something dark seemed to slip over her, casting a chill like a rush of cold water through her veins.

  She shivered suddenly.

  “What is it, my love?” Judson asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, confused. “I felt…as if there were footsteps over my grave, as if…I don’t know. As if something cold touched me.”

  “There is nothing cold here,” he told her, pulling her close. “There is only the warmth of me. The fire of all that lives between us, of the lives we will live, in love forever.”

  She stared up at him, wonder in her eyes. “That you should love me…”

  It was amazing. She had grown up in the poorest of conditions, shuffled from orphanage to orphanage, finally landing on the footsteps of a house sold to Ronald Colby—owner of a theater. She had cleaned, she had pressed costumes, she had worked and worked…and in doing so, she had befriended glittering stars, music masters, and more. And one day, Colby had realized the little orphan he had rescued had gained, on her own, a greater value. She was known in the city as “The Lark.” She didn’t fight the moniker—it was a good one to have.

  “No,” Judson said. “That you should love me,” he whispered.

  Amazing…so amazing. Tonight would be glorious. And after that, her life…

  With Judson…

  More than anyone dared dream.

  “So dinner, my beloved, and then back to costume and makeup—and the grand opening!”

  “Just one moment,” she told him. “I must get my reticule.”

  She left him there, staring at the stage, and hurried up the sides to the apron and then on back to the left wing.

  Hurry—dinner! She reminded herself.

  She walked quickly around to the stairs that led down to the dressing, preparation, and storage rooms.

  Only one lamp was lit. There was no reason for more until the stage manager came in and the cast and the crew and the flurry preceding the show began. She’d had a gas lamp earlier at her dressing table, but she hadn’t kept it lit. Theater was still an expensive proposal, and if they didn’t do well…money would always be an object.

  Caroline walked down the hallway where doors opened into dressing rooms, storage, prop, and costume rooms. She had grown into one of the company’s stars and had her own dressing room near the stairs, allowing for quick costume changes when need be.

  On the way, she noticed the prop room door was ajar. She paused to close it and was startled by a leering face. She laughed softy to herself because it was the mask used by the monster in the show. In this twist on the original story, the horror of the creature only showed at certain times. And when it did, there was no time to transform the actor on stage.

  The mask, conceived to look like a death’s head, made its appearance in the second act. It was horrible, created as a skeletal face with narrow bones, huge black eyes and a gaping mouth that twisted into a leering scowl.

  She’d seen the mask at dress rehearsal, but it was still a chilling sight. It was set atop a stand that had been draped with the monster’s cloak, and it appeared to be as real as possible—without an actor even wearing it.

  “You scared me!” she told the mask.

  And closed the door.

  Despite the lack of light here now, it was easy enough to feel her way to her dressing table in her small—but oh, so special and appreciated—dressing room. And even to find her little bag. She knew exactly where she’d left it. She grabbed her reticule, hurried out and paused—the prop room door was ajar again. The leering death’s head was sticking out at an odd angle.

  Something had to be wrong with the way the thing had been set.

  Sighing, she started to walk back to the room and see what the difficulty could be.

  The face on the thing was cruel and menacing.

  “Quite frightening,” she told the piece, approaching it.

  “Caroline.”

  She froze. It had seemed to say her name. Fear spread through her with a vengeance.

  It would have to remain as it was, she decided. She was not staying a minute longer and Judson was right upstairs.

  She turned to walk away and wound up running.

  But as she reached the stairs and started up them, she knew that someone or something was behind her. She turned, compelled by some unknown force.

  And she was stunned to see that the thing, the horrible mask, worn by someone who had also donned the cloak, was there before her.

  She started to let out a scream.

  It never left her lips. The thing came after her, seeming to float up the stairs, black cloaked arms flying…

  Encompassing her and whispering before she could scream.

  “The theater is mine, don’t you understand? The theater will always be mine.”

  Its arms tightened as she choked out a dying, muted cry for help.

  But she was silenced.

  Forever.

  Chapter 1

  Washington, D.C.

  Halloween

  Now

  “It’s trick or treat, trick or treat!”

  A tiny creature—a boy? Of maybe five? —rushed in front of Dakota “Kody” McCoy as she walked quickly down the street. Hard to tell the sex of the child as he—or she—was wearing a costume that resembled a grinning, walking shark. Very clever, and most probably homemade.

  “Trick or treat? Yes, trick or treat!” she said, wishing she had thought to carry some candy on her.

  Another child—a bit bigger, this one wearing a mermaid costume and sporting a full head of naturally red hair—joined the “shark.”

  “Trick or treat!” the little girl said.

  The parents weren’t far behind, and they were equally well-decked for the holiday as Frankenstein and the Bride of Frankenstein.

  “I’m so sorry!” the mother said, catching up with her children. “Darlings, we don’t trick or treat the people who are out walking.”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine,” Kody assured her. “I’m just so sorry—I don’t have candy. Wait, I do have quarters—for a game room.” She remembered her last visit to a game room and hastily amended her words. “Bills, bills for the game room.”

  She reached into her shoulder bag for her wallet. Both the mom and dad protested, but Kody assured them that she was delighted by the children, they had made her day. She slipped a dollar into the pumpkin baskets they carrie
d and wished them a happy Halloween.

  She smiled as she again hurried along the street, glancing at her watch as she did so.

  She was early. There was no real reason for her to rush, but she was anxious to reach the old Global Tower Theater - Adam Harrison’s refurbished find just blocks from Union Station in the heart of the capitol.

  She felt a little guilty that no one would be at the house she and Brodie McFadden had rented in a gated community in Alexandria. Their little conclave was family oriented, and there would be no one there to give out candy. While Brodie had yet to go through his class at the FBI Academy to officially become part of the Krewe, he—and his older brothers, Bryan and Bruce—were still on the payroll as “consultants.” He’d been supposed to be with her here, now, seeing the children’s show and the night show. But Jackson had called him—and she had urged him to go and help out with whatever it was that was going on.

  Jackson Crow was the field head of the Krewe of Hunters—not to mention an amazing man.

  And she really didn’t mind. Brodie, being incredibly supportive of her work with the theater, had already seen both shows several times.

  That made her smile. She still couldn’t believe sometimes that life had brought her here—with Brodie.

  He was incredibly supportive in every way. Even though it seemed he groaned his way through the Halloween season while she loved it.

  Now, he’d told her he could think of some pretty good costumes for her—very different from the staid Victorian clothing she’d wear that night for the mainstage adult performance.

  Then again, he liked her without costumes at all, without…

  She shook her head, happy at the wealth of Halloween confusion around her.

  The sun had risen beautifully, and the day stayed clear with the early fall afternoon offering a pleasant feel--the temperature was hovering right at 70 degrees. Tonight, for the children of the District of Columbia, it would drop no lower than 60-plus—perfect weather for costumes and parties and Halloween trick-or-treating.

  And this early evening—in time to change around for the nighttime, adult performance--her production for the children’s division of the theater, a play she’d written herself entitled Things That Go Bump in the Night, would end its run.

  Then the fall shows, leading up to Thanksgiving, would begin. Followed by the Christmas shows.

  As far as this children’s theater production, Kody had been given free rein.

  That she had such an incredible and historic theater with which to become involved was amazing from the get-go. Some of the greatest men and women in American history had enjoyed performances here—Jenny Lind had sung here. But despite a fight on many ends to preserve the old theater, its condition had been so poor that even preservation boards had been about to give up on it.

  Enter Adam Harrison, a philanthropist and the founder of the Krewe of Hunters. He heard about the theater and its longevity, and it became one of his pet projects. Adam had pulled together the resources needed to repair and preserve the building.

  Kody was not the first with a Krewe association to become part of the theater. Adam had hired other actors who were significant others in one way or another to Krewe members. Alexi Cromwell, who was now married to Special Agent Jude McCoy – who shared Kody’s last name but was no relation to her – was the first to be hired on. She had been working as a piano-bar hostess on an historic ship when she’d met Jude and Adam, who were on a case. Next, Adam had brought in Clara Avery, wife of Special Agent Thor Erikson, who’d worked on a television show. And then Charlene Moreau, who had been doing well in movies and all aspects of acting, was now engaged to Special Agent Ethan Delaney. Charlene and Ethan had known each other years before when they’d both lived in the St. Francisville area of Louisiana. And just a year or so ago, she’d become involved in a case with Ethan when she had been filming in northern Louisiana. Then there was Marnie Davante, now married to the man who would be Kody’s brother-in-law, Brodie’s oldest brother, Bryan. She smiled, thinking that Bruce—the middle brother in the McFadden family—had told her that his fiancée, Sophie Manning, was going into the Academy along with him.

  Sophie had been a detective out in L.A. And, of course, she was perfect for the Krewe. She’d easily passed all requirements to get into the Academy, then from there into the Krewe. But Sophie was a fan of the theater as well. And like many other Krewe members and significant others, she supported this one whole-heartedly.

  Alexi Cromwell was the artistic director of the theater—and made the final decisions.

  Clara Avery was in charge of musical theater operations. Charlene—or Charlie—headed up the adult division, choosing the shows they would do, obtaining rights, and so on. All three of them worked on casting and directing shows.

  Kody had come from a background as a curator and owned her own small museum in Key West. It wasn’t that she hadn’t been on several stages before—just in a different capacity. And when Marnie had left with Bryan for a seminar on criminal profiling, she had been happy to take over Marnie’s love—the children’s theater. She’d found herself fascinated and ready to pitch in wherever she was needed. And after this busy season was over, she planned on truly diving into the incredible history of the place.

  To her surprise, she’d been cast for the leading role in the Halloween season’s adult show. She still wasn’t sure why. The others were immensely talented—and certainly able. But Charlie had planned on being gone for most of the season, and she’d assured Kody that the beauty of the operation was the fact they were a true ensemble group—able to fill in for one another in just about any position at any time.

  Kody had something else in her background that made it possible for her to step in so easily. Her father had been a mega-popular rock star, Michael McCoy of the Bone Island Boys. She’d known music from the time she’d been born. She’d loved her father and had performed with him many a time, not to mention that in his later years, he’d been involved with special performances and fundraisers to support several local theater projects in the Keys.

  Kody had naturally been a part of them all. She’d adored her father. Not that he’d always been a nice guy, but she knew that marriage to her mother—and the life he’d lived as a father—had changed him. He’d lived clean, his outbursts had ceased, and the world had seen an obnoxious and entitled man become a sober and giving icon.

  She smiled. It was nice to think that she’d been part of that change.

  Now she worked with a board of amazing women, who together managed all aspects and who had been enthusiastic to welcome Kody in.

  She still needed to get back to Key West now and again. But that was the beauty of them all being able to slip into one another’s shoes whenever necessary.

  The theater gave work to many people not associated with the Krewe, and it also afforded outlets for other Krewe members at times. The creation of the Krewe was equally fascinating to Kody. Krewe members had come from all walks of life before applying to the Academy, making their way through it, and then joining the special unit. Will Chan—a magician and tech wizard before joining the Krewe—sometimes gave a special performance.

  Plus--even with all of them working and running the place, they had a little extra assistance—whether they wanted it or not.

  Kody had quickly become very familiar with that…assistance.

  She smiled, thinking about Maeve and Hamish McFadden. She had been enamored of the acting duo as a child. And now…

  Now Kody was engaged to their youngest son, Brodie, who was working as a “consultant” for the Krewe while awaiting his class at the FBI Academy. And she was here—discovering she loved producing and directing children’s theater—and performing in musicals herself.

  Naturally, it was always a bit traumatic to meet someone—especially during a murder investigation—fall in love, and then meet the parents.

  Meeting Maeve and Hamish McFadden had given new meaning to getting accustomed to the prospective
in-laws—since the two were dead.

  Although the McFaddens had been renowned for their performances in many epic movies, they had both loved the theater. They had perished together during a show—luckily, not at this theater.

  But that didn’t keep them from wanting to help run it.

  Kody did get to help run the children’s division—and she loved it.

  Things That Go Bump in the Night ran for seventy minutes plus intermission. This afternoon’s production started at three-thirty and ended at five. That allowed for her young actors to change and clear out, sets and costumes to be switched, and for the performers to arrive and prepare for the adult performance, which started at eight.

  She often remained at the theater, even when the children were finished, to help out with the night shows. This season, she’d even accepted a role in the adult show—The Rising of Monsters and Men, loosely based on the Mary Shelley classic Frankenstein.

  It was a fitting show for Halloween—even if the first leading lady to rehearse the role had died before her opening night, having taken a tumble down the stairs that led to the costume, prop, lighting, and dressing rooms that were in the basement.

  It had all been redone, of course. The stairs—once dangerous—were safer by far, and the rooms now included a set-design studio as well.

  The ghost of Caroline Hartford, the poor, beautiful, ill-fated young lady, was said to haunt the theater.

  Kody had never seen her. Neither had Maeve or Hamish, who assured her that if a spirit presence was around, they would certainly know.

  If Caroline Hartford was haunting the theater, Judson Newby should be haunting it, too. The then-owner of the theater and a strapping man in his mid-thirties at the time, had perished himself in the theater, his heart giving out when he found his beloved at the foot of the stairs.

  A double reason, the ghost of Hamish McFadden had told her, for the residential ghosts of the theater to have been the ill-fated couple.

  But, apparently, while ghost books published by just about every travel writer and ghost “expert” in the country claimed that the two haunted the place, they certainly hadn’t shown themselves to anyone Kody knew—living or dead.