Intersections

by Megan Hart

  At first, the officer on duty (ol' Red again) refused to let us see Simon. But Persephone wouldn't be turned away so easily.

  "What's your name?"

  "Officer O'Malley. James O'Malley."

  "Excellent. I'm on my way back to Manhattan to see Jack Spears. Do you know him?"

  He looked bored. "No. No, I don't."

  "Don't expect that you would, really. He's the Senior Editor at the New York Times. Owes me a favor or two. And he'd love this story." She spread her hands as though the headline materialized in the air before us. "Small Town Cops Arrest Senator's Son Because a Ghost Said So."

  That got his attention and he shifted in his seat. "Now, waitaminute—”

  Knocking her fist on his desk, she pointed behind him as though something had materialized. "And right there on the front, your picture." He glanced back as though he could see it while Seph leaned over his desk and mimed typing. "Officer O'Malley was first on the scene when the ghost appeared and, even though these types of séances have been debunked a hundred times by master magician Harry Houdini and his team - of which I'm a member, by the way - dim-witted small town cops are easily suckered."

  "Kid," he said, "is she always so mean?"

  I grinned. "Trust me, Red. You're getting off light."

  He sighed. "I don't guess it would hurt none. Follow me."

  Leading us down a short hallway, we came into an area with three small cells, each outfitted with a cot, a sink, and a hole in the floor to do your business. Simon was the only occupant. He stood from his cot when he saw us.

  "You got five minutes," O'Malley said and headed back to his desk.

  The mayor smiled. "I'd invite you in, but the place is a mess."

  Persephone reached her hands between the bars and took his. "How are you holding up?"

  "It's like a bad dream. I thought it would be over already, but the Sheriff came by earlier and..."

  "And what?"

  "The doctor confirmed it. She was pregnant."

  The color drained from Persephone's face. She pulled her hands back.

  "I didn't touch the girl! I swear. I barely knew who she was."

  Persephone shook her head. "I'm sorry. Of course you didn't. It's all just so..."

  "I know," he said and reached his hands out for hers again.

  "Do you have an alibi for the night she was killed?"

  "I was home alone. Going over the budget for our Christmas Festival."

  "Of course you were." His face dropped and she went on. "Just our luck, I mean. No one to verify you never went out."

  "No. There wouldn't have been. I have a maid, but she doesn't live with me and had already gone home for the evening."

  "Your father came to see me."

  "Oh? What did he want?"

  "He hired me to prove that Madame Nephthys is a fraud."

  Wrinkling his brow, he said: "Persephone. I know she's your sister, but—”

  "She's a fraud, Simon, and I'll prove it."

  "How? You saw what she did."

  She grinned. "Harry always says that seeing is disbelieving."

  The door at the end of the hall banged open and a short, stocky man in a crisp suit burst in. "You," he barked and pointed to Persephone. "Away from the bars. Now."

  Stepping away, she raised her hands in surrender.

  "Sheriff," Simon said. "Don't be an asshole."

  The Sheriff harrumphed. "You're a murder suspect. I'll be whatever I damned well please. Miss Gale, I take it?" He didn't even glance at me.

  "Yes."

  "I need you to come with me." He waved his hand down the hall.

  Persephone rolled her eyes and walked toward the door.

  "You too, young man." He gave me a light shove on the back.

  "Okay! Okay. I'm going."

  Leading us into a sparsely decorated office, he sat on the edge of the desk. "Close the door."

  I did.

  Persephone ran a finger through thick dust on a chair before sitting.

  The Sheriff motioned to the dust. "I'm a floater."

  "A what?" Persephone asked.

  "A floater. I travel from town to town in the county and so have a dozen offices I never use. As you can imagine, we don't have much serious crime around here. Now. You two were at the séance last night, correct?"

  "We were."

  "Tell me everything you saw."

  We related every detail of the séance, Persephone dwelling on the fact that her mother had coaxed her into performing fake séances when she lived here too.

  "And so," she finished, "as a man of the law, I'm sure you understand how serious their fraud has become."

  "Do you have any proof of fraud?"

  "Sheriff, there is no practical—”

  "Do you have any proof?"

  She folded her hands over one knee and pursed her lips. "Not yet. But I will. Trust me on that."

  The Sheriff let out a long sigh and shook his head. "My wife died about three years ago. Influenza. I was distraught when it happened. Didn't want to go on."

  I wasn't sure where he was going with all of this, but Persephone knew. She exhaled sharply and shook her head.

  "Madame Nephthys has allowed me to speak to my Carol over a dozen times since then."

  "It's a trick," Persephone said, her voice small. "They're all tricks."

  He slammed his fist down onto the desk. The sound made me jump.

  "You will not defame her in my presence." The Sheriff's fury caused his hands to shake and a vein stood on his temple. "I know for a fact that I've been speaking to my wife and I have Madame Nephthys to thank for that. Her gifts are real and I'll testify to that under oath if I have to. Do you understand?"

  "I do," Persephone said. She sounded defeated.

  "We've already confirmed everything that Caitlin said during the séance."

  "How? How can you confirm that Simon had taken advantage of the poor girl?"

  "We have a medical report."

  "Stating she was pregnant. I heard. But that doesn't prove anything."

  "We also have a witness."

  "Who?"

  He walked over to the door and opened it. "I think that's enough for now. You can go."

  I thought she would argue with him, but she simply stood and left.

  Outside the station, she lit a cigarette.

  "Well," I said. "We're at a dead end."

  "And why do you say that?"

  "He's never going to tell us anything we can use."

  "No. He's not."

  "And..."

  "And what?"

  I was afraid to say it so I just shrugged.

  "You think Simon did it now, too?"

  "I don't know. It just... It doesn't look good."

  She clicked her tongue twice. "It only looks bad because we're here. We're in a place where people want séances and cold readings and Ouija boards to all be true. But they're not, Connie. You and I know that. We simply have to prove it. And we need to start with that witness."

  "We're never going to learn who that witness was."

  She grinned and started walking down the street.

  I ran to catch up. "What? You think different?"

  "I know different. Different-ly."

  "What's your plan?"

  "I don't need one. I already know who she is."

  "How?"

  She started whistling "Anything Goes" as she turned onto a side street, marching along like she knew exactly where we were strolling.

  13

  Turns out she did. She'd used some magic back at the station. Not mind-reading magic. Simply misdirection and a little sleight of hand.

  While she spread her hands wide and made a big show of threatening O'Malley with bad press, what she was really up to was keeping him distracted. She'd taught herself at some point to read upside down as good as most people read normal and so she quickly took stock of all the notes scattered across his desk. When she got him to look away (which I swear wasn't even for a full
second) she palmed the paper she needed and pretended to type the story of his ineptitude to cover for her hands on his desk.

  "It was just luck it was still sitting out," Persephone said and removed the paper from where she'd tucked it in her sleeve. "Pure, colossal luck."

  But trust me: it was never luck with her.

  She’d wadded the paper into a ball and now unfolded it, shaking it hard twice to get the bigger wrinkles out. A series of names and addresses covered it. She recognized Don and Mary Ennis, Rose and Nephthys, and her own name with the address to the Gallow's Grove Arms beside it.

  "I assumed this was the list of people they wanted to question today."

  "Is it?" I asked.

  "If it is, there's only one name I don't recognize."

  "Who is that?"

  We turned onto another street.

  "Persephone? Who is it?"

  "Hush now."

  She marched us down a dirt road and up to the door of a small house. An old cart sat rusting in the yard next to a haphazard pile of equally rusted garden tools. The grass grew wild and almost came up to my knees.

  Seph knocked on the door. After a moment, an older woman answered, her hair in a bun and a stained apron draped over her. Somewhere in the house, a baby wailed.

  "Is Sheliah Prescott at home?"

  "It's not a good time," the woman said. "I'm sure you know about the tragedy."

  "I do," Persephone said, her voice suddenly filled with sympathy. "A horrible thing, really. That's why we're here."

  The woman looked back over her shoulder. "She's not in good spirits."

  "I understand." Persephone pulled a five-dollar bill from her purse. "But we'll only be a moment."

  Without hesitating, the woman snatched it up. "Please. Come in."

  We stepped into the house. Dimly lit, curtains drawn and no lamps going, it felt claustrophobic. Old newspapers and periodicals were stacked everywhere, some three feet high. The gray smell of mildew hung in the air alongside the scent of boiled cabbage.

  The baby lay on a small rug wearing nothing but a diaper and screaming its head off. The old woman picked him up and rocked him. "Sheliah," she yelled. "Get your rump out here right this instant!"

  There was a shuffling sound followed by a loud thump, like furniture had been knocked over.

  "I told you I needed some time alone," a slurred voice answered. When she walked into the room, it was obvious she'd been drinking. Red nose and cheeks, wet eyes, that stupid expression drunks get like they're hoping if their mouths hang open long enough someone may slide some money into them. It was a shame, too. She couldn't have been older than sixteen.

  The woman handed her the baby. "He's hungry,” she said and left the room.

  Sheliah looked to us before sitting in a rocking chair. She lifted her shirt to reveal a large, pink breast. I turned my head away as she fed the baby.

  "Who are you then?" she asked.

  "Persephone Gale. I'm working on Caitlin's murder."

  "You a copper? A woman copper?"

  "Not quite."

  She nodded as though the world made sense again. "Who's he?"

  "My assistant."

  "Assistant? I need an assistant." She laughed. The baby popped off her breast and made a mewling noise. She shushed him and moved him back into position. The way she looked down at him, you could tell she loved the kid. Made me wonder if the drinking was a regular thing or not.

  "Sheliah, I just spoke with the Sheriff and he told me that you provided definitive evidence that Simon Carmichael killed Caitlin."

  "I never said that."

  "What did you say?"

  "Look, Caitlin was never one to go with boys. Especially after what happened to me." She kissed the baby's head. "She thought all the boys in town were idiots and that the tourists were even idiot - stupider, I mean. The tourists were stupider."

  Persephone stayed quiet, waiting for Caitlin to continue.

  "We used to sneak out at night, you know. Me and her. Started right after Pop died."

  "How did your father die?"

  Sheliah narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to one side. "Thought everybody knew that. He hanged himself." She pointed across the room. "Right from that beam. I was the one found him."

  "I'm sorry."

  She shrugged. "You got a ciggy?"

  Persephone reached into her purse and pulled out her cigarette case.

  "Butt me," the girl said.

  Seph lit one and passed it over.

  The girl inhaled deeply, rolling it around in her mouth before letting it escape. "Thanks for that. Haven't been able to afford any since I lost my job at the factory in Larchmont."

  "They let a lot of people go recently?"

  "The baby," she said. "I went into labor in the middle of my shift so they canned me." She laughed. "Said I shoulda kept my gams closed in the first place."

  "I'm sorry. People can be cruel. Especially men."

  She pointed her cigarette at Seph and nodded agreement.

  "Sheliah, how did Caitlin know the mayor?"

  "We used to sneak out after Pop died."

  "So you said. Where would you sneak to?"

  "I don't know if I should tell you this."

  "It's all right. No one even knows I'm here."

  She took another puff. "The old library, over by town hall? It closed when they built the new one on Main Street. Wanted the tourists to have a place to read about psychic malarkey right in the middle of everything. Anyway, the old library, sometimes it's a gin mill."

  "Really?" Persephone laughed. "I wish I'd known that."

  "The mayor and his father set it up. Invitation only kind of place. Just a couple of times a month. Caitlin and me were out walking one night, smoking and carrying on, when we saw lights on and heard them all laughing in there. I think I was about three months pregnant, maybe? So this woulda been almost a year ago. Bunch of old men, really, smoking cigars and playing cards. But they let us in and gave us some kind of giggle water. It wasn't long until they had their hands all over us. Mr. Petree, the old man runs the five and dime, he had his hand up my skirt. Or that's what Caitlin told me later. I was so drunk I don't remember everything. Anyway, she told him to leave me alone and Mr. Petree just up and smacked her."

  "What happened then?"

  Sheliah shifted the baby to her other breast. "The mayor grabbed Mr. Petree by the collar and slammed him up against the wall, told him if he ever touched either of us again he'd be in a world of hurt."

  "Sounds like Simon."

  "He and Caitlin walked me home and helped me back through my bedroom window. I passed out and he walked Caitlin home."

  "And did she talk about him after that?"

  "Yeah. I mean, not by name. But she kept sneaking out at night. I'd see her sometimes when I got up for work. I had to be there at five, so it was always still dark, and Caitlin would slip through our yard. You hop five or six fences going back that way and you're right at her bedroom window."

  "What was she doing?"

  "I asked her once and she told me she was going to see him. The mayor. Said they was in love."

  Persephone shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. "Are you certain?"

  "Yeah."

  "This is important now. You said she never mentioned him by name."

  "No, she... Well. Yeah. I guess that's true. Not by name. She said he needed to keep things quiet, that he had a career in the public eye and couldn't let anybody know. Said he was an important man doing important work." She rocked back and forth in silence as she stared at her baby. "Who else could it be?"

  "You tell me."

  She thought for a moment before shaking her head. "No. It was him. We'd both been head over heels for him after he took us home that night. Caitlin said something about how his blue eyes pulled her right in."

  Seph steepled her fingers as she tried that one on for size. It didn't fit and she crunched up her nose.

  "Caitlin was my only friend, you k
now," Sheliah said. "Only one aside from Mama ever gave a damn about me. I know it was just because she felt sorry for me, but I don't care. I just want to do her right, you know?"

  "You are."

  Persephone stood. I took her cue and did the same.

  "Thank you, Sheliah," she said. "You've been a lot of help." She opened her purse and removed a twenty-dollar bill. "Use this for food and only food, all right?"

  The girl didn't take the cash at first, simply stared at it like it was some kind of joke. Once she was sure it wasn't, she reached out and snatched it away just as her mother had.

  "This one's for gin and ciggies." Seph handed her another bill and then we moved toward the door. "If you don't mind me asking, where's the father?"

  "The father?"

  "Of your baby."

  She looked confused. "I told you, Miss Gale. He hanged himself."

  14

  The next morning, Persephone wasn't in her room. I'd thought that maybe she'd gone back to the jail or found some other witness to speak to, but when I went down to breakfast Mrs. Massey said she’d been in the work shed out back for a couple of hours already.

  Grabbing some bacon and toast, I headed across the back lawn. Clouds gathered and the wind had the crisp smell of a storm brewing. The doors to the massive wooden shed were closed and a paper had been tied onto the handles that read "By Order of the United States Government, KEEP OUT." It thrilled me that I could read that with little trouble.

  After a few poundings on the door, it creaked open just enough for Persephone to poke her head out.

  "Can't you read? Oh. Connie. It's you."

  I tried to wedge myself in, but she pulled the door tighter.

  "What are you doing in there?"

  "Trying to prove my sister a fraud. Sibling rivalry, I know. How petty."

  "So the supplies came?"

  "At dawn. Given what you paid, the delivery men suspected a hefty tip and came first thing. I found them rude and so they left disappointed. Can I help you with anything?"

  "No, I... Breakfast is ready."

  "Not hungry."

  "You gonna be in there all day?"

  "More than likely." She closed the door on me.

  Boredom getting the better of me, I went for a walk. I told myself it was just to a simple stroll through town, but even I didn't buy that lie.