Bubba's Ghost

by Marja McGraw

  I pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans, my typical dress for work, and returned to the kitchen to make breakfast for Bubba and myself.

  While I was eating, I happened to remember my last thought before going to sleep. Okay, so there was more to the attic than cats, but I’d figure it out. If mating cats made sounds like a crying baby, then there were surely more logical explanations for the other things that had happened up there. It was a sunny, warm day and there wasn’t any room for fear to slink into my life.

  I found myself humming while I cleaned up the kitchen and filled Bubba’s water bowl. He was thirsty and emptied the bowl, so I refilled it and set it out on the back porch. I continued to hum, thinking about Pete coming home.

  Stanley showed up at exactly nine o’clock, ready to dig in and get some more work done.

  I hummed while I dusted the house, something I’d been meaning to do and hadn’t gotten around to.

  “Is that you humming?” Stanley stuck his head around the corner and watched me dust.

  “It ain’t the ghosts.” Uh oh. I shouldn’t have said that, but I couldn’t take the words back.

  “Ghosts? Are you saying something else has happened around here? Ghosts?”

  “Now, Stan – ”

  “Don’t you try to get out of it. I heard you. What happened?” The tic by his eye was beginning to gear up for a real workout.

  “Oh, nothing. Just some noises.”

  “It’s more than that. I can tell by your expression. And you think I should develop a poker face. Now tell me what happened.”

  “Stanley – ”

  “That’s Stan, and what happened?”

  “Okay, okay. I heard a crash upstairs and found a box full of broken glasses on the floor.” I didn’t want to tell him more than that.

  “Keep going.”

  He was relentless, and the rest of the story came out in a rush. “The board was still on the window and I heard the baby crying. There. Are you happy?”

  “No, but at least now I know. Have you completely gone off the deep end? Why are you humming?”

  “Look. I can let it get to me, or I can try to figure it out. I prefer not to let it get to me. And Dolly said that sometimes when cats are getting ready to mate, they make a sound like a baby crying. So, it must be cats.”

  “When did you see Dolly?” The tic was speeding up and he had his hands on his hips. The worst part was, he reminded me of my mother at that moment, with his persistence and questions.

  “Bubba and I visited with Dolly for a little while last night. I was nervous, and she calmed me down. Simple as that.” I didn’t like the idea that Stanley could remind me of my mother. It didn’t make for a pretty picture.

  “You’re still holding something back, aren’t you?” He wasn’t going to let it go.

  “The other day when I went up there I saw something white floating out the window. That’s why I tacked the board up. The window repairman will be here in a couple of days to put up a new window with a working lock.”

  He turned without saying anything and walked back to the office.

  I continued with my dusting and humming, but a little of my energy had disappeared.

  “Oh, and Pete’s coming home,” I hollered down the hallway.

  Instead of yelling back at me, he returned to the living room. “Well, that explains the humming, anyway.”

  I smiled, enjoying Stanley’s presence.

  “Sandi, I’ve decided to take the bull by the horns and solve the mystery of your attic.”

  “What do you mean, Stan?”

  “I’m going to spend the night in the attic, with your permission, and find out exactly what’s going on. I’m not afraid, and I want you to know that.”

  I stared at him, trying to decide what to do. Something was going on in that attic, and I didn’t want Stanley to be hurt.

  “Well? May I stay in your attic tonight?”

  “Yes.” I knew I had to let him do this. He felt the need to prove himself to me, and I needed to let him.

  “Good. I’ll bring a sleeping bag with me, although I seriously doubt if I’ll be doing any sleeping.”

  “Why don’t you plan on coming over for dinner, although it may be late since I’m going out to Covina again. Maybe we’ll watch television.”

  “Dinner would be pleasant, but then I’m heading upstairs. I’m not going to put this off for one more moment. And I don’t want you to come with me. You might get hurt.” Stanley had a protective side. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was. Then I remembered how he’d helped me with another case, even though I knew he’d been afraid.

  “Since you’re going to be home late, why don’t I prepare a meal for the two of us? That is, if you don’t mind me using your kitchen. I’m quite a good chef, actually.”

  “I’d like that, Stan. I have a feeling I’m going to be pooped by the time I walk in the door tonight. And you’ve got a key, so you can come and go as you like.”

  “Fine.”

  “Good.” I somehow felt like Stanley and I had turned a corner in our friendship. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something new between us. He was becoming an even more important part of my little family.

  Chapter Fifty-three

  I finished my dusting and mopped the kitchen floor, having an inexplicable need to keep busy. My gut was still telling me that something was going to happen at Doug’s, but I had no idea what. Maybe I was finally going to learn some truths.

  I visited Chrissy and asked if I could have a key to her house. This time I’d watch from inside so Becky wouldn’t see me. The house was still a crime scene, but I decided I was going to sneak in anyway. I wouldn’t be disturbing anything.

  One o’clock rolled around, and I left for Covina. I wanted to be there in plenty of time to watch Doug and Becky’s house. I needed to see if anything out of the ordinary happened when they thought I wasn’t hanging around watching. Ha! And I called him a nosey neighbor. But for me, it was my job.

  I made a quick stop at Covina P.D. and asked for Detective Chase. He wasn’t in yet, so I left him a note telling him I was finally going to meet with Doug. I knew something was wrong. I also told him I’d call him as soon as I had anything worthwhile to tell him.

  I drove over to Barranca Avenue again and started to pull around the corner onto the same small side street where I’d parked the day before, but changed my mind when I remembered I could sneak through the yard behind Chrissy’s place. I drove around to the street behind her house. It didn’t appear the man who lived there was home, so I quietly made my way through his yard and into the trees.

  It had been a lot easier to work my way up to the house without anyone seeing me in the dark, but I managed to stay out of sight until I got to the edge of the grassy area by the walnut tree. I watched Doug’s house for signs of life, and not seeing any, I ran to Chrissy’s back door and let myself in. My timing was great, because shortly after I closed the door I saw Becky walk outside and turn off a sprinkler. She was so open about her movements that I knew she hadn’t seen me.

  I watched out the kitchen window as she wound the hose up and hung it on a holder, and returned to the house. She seemed to have plenty of energy, and she certainly didn’t look ill, other than a pale complexion.

  Now the waiting began. Doug had said he was taking Becky to her mother’s. Since he said to come back at three, I figured he’d be early to pick her up. By a quarter to three, he hadn’t shown up. Maybe her mother lived nearby. I waited a few more minutes, and he pulled up after a ten-minute wait. He went into the house and stayed there. He and Becky didn’t leave again.

  I’d noticed on my trek up to the house that there were more wild rose bushes along the far side of Chrissy’s yard, so I snuck out the front door and hid myself behind those as I worked my way back to my car. Doug would question it I showed up on foot instead of driving my car.

  I didn’t see a soul as I crept through the yard behind Chrissy’s, and no one
asked me why I was sneaking around the neighborhood. I was having a good day, so far. I drove the car around the block and back onto Barranca, and pulled into Doug’s driveway. He was waiting outside for me.

  “Okay, let’s get this over with. What exactly do you want to know?” No amenities of any kind, just a let’s get on with this attitude.

  Fine with me. “Doug, all I wanted to know is if you or your wife saw anything the night of the murder, but you’ve been avoiding me. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing’s goin’ on. And I didn’t see _othing’, either.”

  “You’re always watching out your window, Doug. You saw something, didn’t you? Just between you and me, okay? What did you see?”

  “I said I didn’t see anything, and that’s what I meant.”

  “So I guess we have nothing to talk about.” Maybe I could talk to Becky while I was there. “Doug, may I have a drink of water before I leave? It’s a long drive home.”

  “You could stop at a fast food place, ya know.” He didn’t want to be bothered with me. And this wasn’t the Doug I’d met who liked to talk and get in the middle of things. Something was wrong.

  “But it’s such a long drive home, and I don’t want to stop anywhere. Please? All I want is a drink.” Once again, my mother’s wheedling tactics were coming in handy. “Please?”

  “Oh, okay. You wait here and I’ll be right back.”

  I pretended I hadn’t heard him and followed right behind him into the house.

  He glanced over his shoulder and saw me entering the house. “Hey! I said to wait outside.”

  “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t hear you.” And I continued to follow him, right into the kitchen. “Is Becky here?”

  “I told ya, I took her to her mother’s house. She’s been a sick little cookie lately.”

  Why was he lying? Becky knew something. Was she covering for Doug? I had to get to the bottom of this.

  Doug handed me a glass of water and I walked out to the living room and sat down. He gave me a dirty look but didn’t say anything.

  I pointed to the chair across from where I was sitting on the couch. “Sit down, Doug. We’re going to talk. You and me, and right now.”

  He sat down and clamped his lips together.

  “What is it, Doug? You know more than you’re telling. Or Becky does.”

  Chapter Fifty-four

  “I need a beer.” Doug stood up and left the room, returning shortly with a bottle.

  “Are you going to talk to me now?” I wanted some straight answers – no more putting me off.

  “Yeah, we do need to talk, and this isn’t gonna be easy, Miss Webster. Is there some kind of client confidence thing here?”

  “You mean like client confidentially?” I knew what he meant, but he wasn’t my client. “No, not between you and me. You’re not the one who hired me.”

  “Uh huh. Well, then, I guess I got nothin’ to say to you after all. We’ll sit here ’til you’re done with your water, and then you can go away and leave us alone.”

  I drank my water slowly, turning my glass and looking toward the window. I realized that all of the curtains were drawn, making the house seem dark and dreary. Although the curtains were made of a thin fabric, not much light made its way past the porch roof. I noticed the door was slightly ajar.

  “Doug, what are you afraid of?” I asked it quickly, trying to surprise him into saying something.

  It got a rise out of him, but not an answer. “Ain’t afraid of nothin’, Miss Webster. Just got a few things on my mind. And you’re not privy to what they are.”

  “Maybe I can help,” I suggested. “Why don’t you try me? I’m a pretty good listener.”

  Doug walked over and closed the front door. I didn’t like that. I stood up.

  Doug looked surprised, glancing from me to the door. “We never leave the front door open. Since there’s no screen door, we get bugs. I’m keepin’ the bugs out.”

  I sat back down. Something wasn’t right. I’d said that over and over again, but still couldn’t figure out what the problem was. My gut was telling me to get out, but I was ignoring it. My bones were saying get a move on, but I wasn’t paying any attention to them either.

  “Maybe I do need to talk. Maybe I need to clear the air and take what’s comin’ to me.” Doug chewed the side of his lower lip.

  I waited, expectantly and impatiently, and maybe a little bit fearfully. I was about to hear something that could change everything in this man’s life. I knew it as well as I knew my own name.

  “After I tell you my story, I guess you’d better call the cops to come get me.”

  Okay, now I was nervous. If I read him right, he was about to confess to murder. And I was in his house, with no backup. He said I could call the police, but would he change his mind? Should I, could I, call them before he told me he was a killer?

  “Maybe I should call the police now, and you can tell your story to them.” My gut was speaking to me again, and it didn’t like the way this was going down. My bones were still whispering scary words, too. I won’t even mention what my brain was telling me.

  Doug ignored my suggestion and began talking. “I saw that bum hiding in the bushes at my house, watching Chrissy’s place. I yelled out the window at him to get away from here.”

  Here we go, I thought.

  “He shushed me and tried to ignore me, so I yelled at him again and told him he’d better get away from here or I’d take care of him. He laughed and cursed at me. Can you imagine? He wasn’t even afraid of me.” Doug stopped talking and stared at his hands. He gave me the feeling that he thought he probably intimidated people.

  Actually, I could imagine. John Frendd probably didn’t know much about fear after the life he’d lived with his father. He’d replaced fear with anger and booze.

  “He walked over to my window and told me I’d better stay out of his way or my wife would be next. And then he showed me a cheap necklace with the initial ‘R’ on it. You know, my wife’s name is Becky, short for Rebecca.”

  “Could have been a coincidence. How would he know your wife’s name?” I asked.

  “No coincidence. I caught him going through our mailbox once. What easier place to find someone’s name? Besides, it wasn’t a ‘C’ for Chrissy.

  “He finally left, and I was glad. I knew Chrissy would be home before long. You can set your watch by her habits. Home by five-thirty every night except shopping night. And that bum was in a mood. It was like he’d come to the end of his rope and he didn’t even care that someone was watchin’ out for the gal next door.”

  “Why didn’t you call the police?” I asked.

  “I didn’t see the need. Like I said, he left. If he came back, I’d be watching for him, and I could take care of him.”

  Doug sat quietly for a moment, deep in thought. I waited patiently for as long as I could, which wasn’t all that long.

  “What happened next?” I wasn’t sure I wanted him to keep going, but I had to know.

  “A few minutes later I looked out the window again, you know, wantin’ to make sure he was really gone. I didn’t see him, but I decided to go outside and take a look around. I took my heavy-duty flashlight with me in case I needed some light. Besides, it’s a good weapon; you know, if I needed to protect myself. That’s when I saw the light was on in Chrissy’s basement.”

  He stopped and took a long swig of his beer, gulping noisily.

  “I walked over to the basement window as quietly as I could. He was standing there with his back to the window. I got down on my hands and knees. He must have heard me, ’cause he turned around, and without thinking I swung the flashlight as hard as I could. I almost fell through the window, but I landed on my belly instead. I got him right in the side of the head. He didn’t fall down though. He turned away from me, so I swung again, harder. That’s when he went down. Hard like. I saw the blood and knew he was done.

  “And you know what? It felt good. I felt like a hero. He woul
dn’t be bothering Chrissy, or Becky, or anybody else again.”

  “Where’s the flashlight, Doug? It’s evidence.”

  “I threw it in the trash. It’s long gone by now.”

  “Uh huh. So you’re telling me you killed John Frendd because he threatened your wife? Is that right?”

  “Yeah, that’s about it. The way he kept on bothering Chrissy, I knew he’d be back for Becky. ’Specially since he had that necklace.” He sat back and sucked on the beer.

  “Where’s Becky, Doug? The police are going to want to hear her take on all of this.”

  “She didn’t see nothin’. I told you, she was taking a nap during all the time this was going on.”

  “I know what you told me. And, Doug, I don’t believe you. There’s more to this than you’re telling, and I think Becky knows what the rest of the story is.” I was pushing my luck, but I didn’t have that satisfied feeling I get when I know the end of a story. There was still something missing.

  “Look, lady, I just confessed to a murder. What more do you want? So go call the cops.” Doug sounded angry. He wanted me to believe him, but I couldn’t.

  “Becky…” Doug looked past me, over my shoulder. His voice was odd, panicky. His face was contorted in a grimace.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  I turned quickly and found Becky slipping up behind me. Her eyes were opened unnaturally wide and her pale face had turned red. Her hands were behind her back, and she was walking quietly. I knew instantly and instinctively that she’d murdered John Frendd.

  She pulled her hands from behind her back, and one of them held a heavy-duty flashlight. She raised it over her head. Her eyes looked right through me.

  For once my reaction time was fast. I jumped off the couch, turning toward her as the flashlight made a downward swing.

  I ran for the door. Doug jumped up, trying to beat me to it. I pushed him. He fell.