“So ... she bossed him around.”
“She definitely bossed him around,” Mrs. Little agreed. “Earl needed constant supervision. He wasn’t slow or anything. I mean ... not in a mental way. He was just the sort of guy who couldn’t think for himself and needed someone to constantly direct him. Does that make sense?”
Oddly enough, it did. “Joey was one of the counselors that last summer. Someone said that Vicky — she’s the girl who was killed — didn’t like him. Do you think she could’ve had a valid reason for her feelings?”
“Are you asking me if there were any rumors about the boy being a pervert?”
Mrs. Little was blunt, I had to give her that. “I guess that’s what I’m asking,” I admitted. “It probably shouldn’t matter because Joey is long gone and there’s no way he killed both women, but I’m starting to wonder if maybe he had a partner back then. Perhaps he worked with someone to do something horrible to Vicky and it didn’t work out as he planned.
“Maybe he killed her — or they killed her — and two people were needed to dispose of the body,” I continued. “Perhaps he had a partner and they got away with it for so long the partner decided to go back to killing now. I mean ... it sounds far-fetched, but I’ve heard stranger things turn out to be true.”
Mrs. Little frowned. “Trust me, if the boy hung around with anyone I would tell you. The faster this little investigation is put to rest, the better for everyone ... including me.”
Especially her, I silently added. The bank was unlikely to okay the loan when there was an active murder investigation depressing the property’s value. I wasn’t an idiot. “You didn’t know him to hang around with anyone?”
“Not that I remember. He was a loner. He was quite close with his mother and father. When Earl died everyone thought Gertie would fall apart. She didn’t because she had Joey to take care of … even though he was an adult and should’ve been taking care of himself. When Joey died she became a shell of her former self. I think it was because she blamed herself for what happened.”
“Because he was living in the shed instead of the house?”
“Pretty much,” she confirmed. “He had a space heater out there and the fire marshal thought that could be the source of the blaze for a time. He couldn’t definitively say in the end because there were numerous fire hazards, including gasoline. I mean ... it was a shed. She kept a container of gasoline out there in case of emergencies.”
“So ... the fire marshal never ascertained the starting point of the fire?” That was interesting. “Was it ruled accidental?”
“I’m pretty sure it was accidental. The body was burned beyond recognition. It was a horrible thing. There were numerous stories about exactly what happened right after. Now that you bring it up, I’m not sure which one they settled on.”
“Numerous stories?”
“That’s what I said.” Mrs. Little turned testy. “Seriously, Bay. I’m not sure why you’re so worked up about this. I understand that you think Joey might’ve been involved in the first murder, but he’s gone. If he had a partner, I can’t help you track him down. I do wish you luck. The faster this is solved, the faster I can close on my deal.”
She wasn’t even trying to hide her greed.
“Well, then I’ll let you get back to it. You’ll be the first to know when we come up with a culprit. I know how worried you are about a killer being on the loose.”
“That would be great.” Mrs. Little went back to her inventory. “Watch what you write in the paper, by the way. I don’t want a bunch of people trying to buy that property out from under me. I’ll be angry if that property slips through my fingers.”
“Well, we all know how worried I am about making you angry. I’ll do my best to make sure you get what you deserve.”
She obviously missed the edge to my words because her grin was fast and happy. “That’s all that I ask.”
Twenty-Three
On a hunch, I went through William’s old files in an effort to find something on Joey’s death. It wasn’t difficult to find. I even discovered an obituary for Earl during my search. His cause of death wasn’t listed and only two survivors were mentioned. The small notice – a total of two paragraphs – made me inexplicably sad. Not sad enough to cry, of course, but sad all the same.
When I realized tears were streaming down my face, I grew frustrated. “Vicky?”
The ghost answered before I could turn around. “How did you know I was here?”
“Call it a wild guess.” I swiped at my tears. Vicky looked as sad as I felt. “Why are you crying?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Why are you crying?”
“I’m crying because you made me cry.”
“I don’t think that’s true.”
“Oh, it’s true. It’s a new thing. I felt your emotions and they overwhelmed me because my defenses were down. I need to work on that.”
Vicky’s expression was unreadable. “I don’t think that’s what happened.”
“It has to be. I had no reason to cry.”
“I don’t think that’s what happened.” Vicky was firm. “I started crying because you were crying. I wasn’t feeling sad until I stopped by to visit you and the next thing I knew I was crying. Er, well, I was kind of crying. It’s weird. I can’t cry because I’m a ghost, but I felt those emotions so I was ghost crying. That’s a thing, right?”
I didn’t see why not. “Sure. You’re definitely the one influencing me, though. I don’t tend to cry over obituaries for people I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.”
“But … .” Before I could ask the obvious question, the door flew open to allow Thistle entrance. Her face was red, her hair wild and her expression murderous. I knew right away something terrible had happened. “What now?”
“You’ll never guess what Clove did.”
She often led with that same statement, so I wasn’t exactly braced for the end of the world. “Did she move your fertility goddess statue again? Or, wait, did she put a top on that statue you made a few months ago and keep trying to display outside the petting zoo even though Marcus is appalled by the nudity?”
“That statue is amazing,” Thistle snapped. “But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Okay. I give.”
“Tell her,” Thistle prodded.
I waited a beat, confused. “Tell who what?” I glanced around, but Vicky had been so surprised by Thistle’s grand entrance that she disappeared. “There’s no one here but us.”
“Oh, there’s someone else here.” Thistle folded her arms over her chest and inclined her head toward the door. “Tell her what you did, Clove.”
I tilted my head to the side and waited for my brunette cousin to make her appearance known. When she stepped in the doorway it was obvious she’d been crying. Her makeup was streaked and her eyes red-rimmed. Her hair also looked as if she’d run her hands through it so many times it was about to take off for outer space thanks to the static electricity.
“What is going on?” I was starting to worry. “Oh, geez. Aunt Tillie didn’t follow through with her threat and curse a bunch of seagulls to crap on Mrs. Little’s store, did she? I was just over there and everything looked fine.”
“Oh, this has nothing to do with Aunt Tillie,” Thistle hissed. “This is all Clove. Tell Bay what you did. Tell her right now.”
A small sob escaped Clove’s throat but otherwise she held it together.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my mind going a mile a minute. “You’re not sick, are you?”
“I’m not sick,” Clove said hurriedly, moving into my office on hesitant feet. “At least not the way you think I am. It’s something else.”
“What?” When she didn’t immediately answer, I prodded further. “What is it?”
“Well … I’m pregnant.”
Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t that. I honestly thought my legs were going to go out from under me as I struggled to absorb her words. “W-what?”
I swallowed hard as Clove sank onto the couch. People say pregnant women have a glow. That wasn’t true about Clove. She looked as if someone had run over her favorite pet and left her to find it by the side of the road.
“I meant to tell you,” Clove muttered, avoiding eye contact. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out. I was embarrassed.”
I rubbed my cheek as I debated what to say. “Why were you embarrassed?”
“You know why.”
Actually, I did know. Our mothers were sticklers about birth control. The absolute worst thing in the world, as far as they were concerned, was getting pregnant before marriage. They were old-fashioned that way, an opinion that used to make us laugh. Clove, of course, was the most sensitive of our little trio. It only made sense that she was terrified to tell our mothers. Still … .
“I get why you didn’t want to tell your mom … and my mom. I especially get why you didn’t want to tell my mom, but why didn’t you tell us? We could’ve helped you with this.”
“I didn’t want you guys to be mad at me,” she admitted, her lower lip trembling. “The longer I waited, the worse it got. I’m only telling you now because Thistle went through my purse and found my pre-natal vitamins. This was after she realized I wasn’t drinking around the campfire last night and tried to shame me, saying Winchesters always drank around the campfire and I was embarrassing the family. She’s been melting down most of the day.”
That was obvious. “Well … .” I forgot about the file on the floor and dragged a hand through my hair. “When did you find out?”
“Not long after Thistle moved out of the guesthouse,” she replied, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I was feeling weird that entire time – like I wanted to constantly cry but had no idea why – and then I realized I was three weeks late. I took a home pregnancy test and it came out positive. Then I took seven more just to be sure.”
“Obviously you told Sam,” I noted.
“He came home when I was sitting in the bathroom with all the tests,” she said. “He was really happy but insisted we go to a doctor before we told anyone. He said it was the smart thing to do. I told him I’d never done the smart thing before so I had no idea why I had to start doing it now, but he insisted.
“When we were at the doctor she suggested I wait until I was three months along to tell anyone,” she continued. “She said that was standard because most miscarriages happen in the first trimester. That made sense. Plus, well, it gave me time to think about how I was going to tell my mother.
“But the three-month mark passed five weeks ago,” she continued. “I’m like … really pregnant now.” As if to prove it, she lifted her shirt and showed off a slightly-rounded belly. “I can’t believe you thought this was my winter weight.” Her glare was accusatory when it fell on Thistle. “That is just … ridiculous.”
“It’s not as if I’ve seen you in your pajamas or anything,” Thistle shot back. “We don’t live under the same roof any longer. I mean … I didn’t want to be the one to say, ‘Lay off the doughnuts,’ because it sounds mean.”
I blew out a sigh as Clove wiped her cheeks. “Well … this is not the end of the world.” I meant it. I wasn’t simply saying it to bolster her feelings. “You’re engaged. You’re getting married to the father of the baby. Wait … Sam is the father, right?”
Clove scorched me with a murderous look at the same moment something hard slammed into my chest.
“What the … ?” I put my hand to the spot where I felt the impact and frowned. “What was that?”
“What was what?” Thistle shot me a dubious look. “Are you feeling left out or something? Do you want me to start paying attention to you instead of Clove? I have plenty of anger to go around, if that’s the case.”
“It’s not the case, you ninny,” I snapped, my hand busy on the spot where I’d felt the blow. Something occurred to me. “Were you crying right before you stormed in here?”
“Me?” Thistle’s eyebrows hopped. “I wasn’t crying. I have no reason to cry. I’m not the one who will be raked over the Winchester coals when news breaks of a baby.”
“I think you’re making too big of a deal about that,” I countered. “Our mothers threatened us with great bodily harm if we came home pregnant as teenagers. We’re adults now. It won’t be as big of a deal as you think.”
Thistle wasn’t about to be placated. “Oh, we’ll just see about that.”
I ignored her and focused on Clove. “I was talking about you. Were you crying right before you came here?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Were you crying yesterday? I’m talking about in the afternoon, before you headed out to the campground.”
“I was. I hid in the bathroom so Thistle wouldn’t know what was going on. My hormones are all over the place.”
“Is that what you were doing in the bathroom for an hour?” Thistle screwed up her face. “I thought you were taking a gigantic dump.”
Clove was appalled. “Why wouldn’t you suggest more fiber in my diet if you really thought that was true?”
Thistle shrugged. “I didn’t want to upset you.”
I snorted as I briefly pressed my eyes shut and rubbed my forehead. “You said you were upset right before Thistle moved from the guesthouse. I was kind of watery during that time, too. Son of a witch! I think I’ve been feeling your emotions. Either that or Aunt Tillie is right and I’m absorbing the emotions of the ghosts around me. I’m not sure which freaks me out more.”
“My emotions?” Clove was taken aback. “Why would you be feeling my emotions?”
“Because I’m not the only one with growing powers,” I replied without hesitation. “You are, too. At least … I think you are.” I slid my eyes to Thistle. “I bet you are, too. We just haven’t figured out how you’re manifesting. It totally makes sense.”
“How does it make sense?” Clove asked, her hand automatically going to her stomach. “Why do you think it’s happening now?”
“I don’t know why it’s happening now.” That was the truth. “It just is. You were always a touch empathic, picking up on the emotions of others. Now you’re broadcasting.”
“Why are you picking up the signals and not Thistle?” Clove asked. “I mean … I spend more time with her.”
That was a very good question. “I don’t know.” I licked my lips and regarded our crabby cousin. “Unless … have you been crying for no reason and hiding it from everybody?”
Thistle’s mouth dropped open. “I can’t believe you would accuse me of that. Of course not.”
She was a good liar, but I knew her better than most. She had a few tells, and she was using one right now. “Then why are you looking just over my shoulder instead of into my eyes?” I challenged.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You totally are,” Clove said, brightening considerably. “Have you been crying?”
“No!” Thistle practically bellowed.
“She’s been crying,” Clove deduced. “She’s been emotional, too. She’s just been hiding it better than the two of us.”
That wasn’t surprising. “Well, I guess you can’t be angry at Clove for not telling us that she was pregnant right away. You’ve been hiding stuff, too,” I pointed out.
“Oh, stuff it.” Thistle let loose a dramatic sigh and threw herself in my desk chair. “Do you really think Clove has been making us cry?”
“I was crying a few minutes ago and I blamed it on Vicky. Aunt Tillie assumed I was absorbing the emotions of the ghosts. It turns out that Clove has been forcing emotions on us. I’m not to blame for any part of this recent snafu. Wh
at a relief.” When I raised my eyes, I found Clove glaring at me. “What?”
“I can’t believe you’re going to blame this on me,” she groused, folding her arms over her chest. “I’m pregnant. And I have to tell our mothers. I think they’re going to shun me.”
That was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard. “They won’t shun you.” I was almost positive that was true. “This isn’t olden times. They might give you a little grief. But if my mother tries that, you can point out she had sex with Chief Terry on the first date and that will shut her up. Clove, they’re going to be happy. You and Sam are getting married in a few weeks. I … wait. That’s why you and Sam are getting married so quickly.”
Clove nodded, morose. “I want to be married before the baby comes. I also want to be married before I tell Mom and the aunts about the baby.”
I wanted to argue with her, but that seemed like a dumb stand to take. It was her decision. And, oddly enough, I understood. “So … you’re saying we have to keep things quiet for another few weeks. I think we can manage that.”
“Really?” Thistle was droll. “When have we ever been able to keep a secret of this magnitude?”
I wanted to give her an example, but I couldn’t come up with anything. “Well … .”
“That’s right.” Thistle turned triumphant. “We’ve never been able to keep a secret like this. It’s going to blow up in our faces.”
I wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “Not necessarily.” My mind was busy with possibilities. “Clove will just have to be careful about what she wears and when she sees everyone. It’s better to see them at night … and stay at the far end of the table. Thistle and I will block you when we can.”
“You will?” Clove brightened considerably. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”
“We’ll do our very best.” I turned a pair of expectant blue eyes on Thistle. “Isn’t that right?”
She didn’t look happy with the question. “I don’t know,” she replied after a moment’s contemplation. “Who will take the fall if this blows up in our faces?”
“We’ll take it together,” Clove replied.
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