The Ghost in Mr. Pepper's Bed

by Sigrid Vansandt

  “Fritz!” she whispered. “Tell me that’s you?”

  “Yes, my love,” came the tender reply.

  “This is not the time for that. I’m trying to catch a murderer. You should go home.”

  “Ah, come on, Sunny. Let me help. I’ve had a killer day and I need some fun.”

  Sonya peeked over the edge of the loft’s window to see if Marsha was still standing down there.

  “Interesting choice of words, but if you’re staying, maybe we can use your help,” she whispered. “Please go down to where that woman is standing and chase her into the root cellar below. Okay?”

  “Chasing women was a specialty of mine two hundred years ago,” Fritz said softly in her ear.

  “And that’s why your wife is still mad at you two hundred years later. Go!”

  In less than three seconds, a shrill scream was heard from Marsha. Her hair was being whipped into a frenzy of movement like invisible bats were attacking her head. She took off running toward the barn like a mad woman. As Fritz chased her into the cellar singing a dirty ditty about a Scottish sailor’s wife, Nellie slammed the door and Sonya flipped the locking plank into place.

  “Mrs. Turner! Are you here?” Marsha sobbed loudly.

  “The letter is already with the sheriff, Marsha. If you’ve come out here to get it, I don’t have it!” Nellie yelled through the door.

  “The what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mrs. Turner. Tilly sent me out here with a basket full of food. What letter are you talking about?”

  Sonya and Nellie, standing by the door, exchanged ‘oops’ expressions.

  “I don’t think she’s the one. Should we let her out?” Nellie said in a whisper.

  “Yeah, and maybe give her an apology, too.”

  They started to lift the plank from the locking brackets but Sonya stopped.

  “It may be a lie. Let me call Tilly and make sure,” she said to Nellie.

  “Okay, Marsha. We’re calling Tilly first,” Sonya yelled through the planks.

  After a long wait on the line, Nellie got it straight from Tilly’s mouth that she had indeed sent Marsha out with a care basket. It had some of her own carrot cake she’d made that morning. She hoped Nellie enjoyed it. After she hung up, they opened the door for Marsha.

  “What is going on out here?” Marsha said, her hair still a fright and her face smudged with dirt.

  “Come up to the loft Marsha,” Sonya said, leading the way. “We can’t take any chances the real killer might show up.”

  “The what?” Marsha blurted. “Are you two crazy?” She looked around wildly.

  “Now, slow down, girl,” Nellie said patting the frazzled Marsha on the shoulder. “We’re trying to bring the murderer of my Poppy to justice. It was sweet of you to come all this way. We didn’t mean anything by hustling you into the root cellar, well, other than we thought you were a cold-blooded killer.”

  Marsha stood stock still with a mystified expression on her face.

  “How did you get that weird song to play in my ear and the air to rush around me? Have you got special wind machines and stuff?” she asked looking around.

  Sonya threw out a plausible answer.

  “You must have heard the radio playing and it’s been a breezy day, Marsha. I think it all came together and you were probably a bit nervous being out here on your own.”

  Her expression showed she wasn’t exactly convinced. Reaching up to touch her frazzled head of hair, she said, “Well, I’d like to stay, Mrs. Turner. Poppy was a friend of mine, and if you think the killer might come out here tonight, I’d like to be in on catching him.”

  Sonya and Nellie nodded.

  “Honey, do you mind waiting to leave? The killer could be out there waiting. It’s better if you stay with us for a little while,” Nellie said in a motherly tone to Marsha.

  “Besides, we could use a younger set of legs to climb down that ladder. Marsha, better go move your car. It’s recognizable. Pull it around behind the barn on the left side. It should be well hidden over there. When you’re done, climb back up here and be ready to wait. You’ll need to turn your cell phone to silent,” Sonya instructed.

  Once they were all back in position up in the loft, the sun sat completely. Bats took the place of the birds in the sky, feeding on the flying nocturnal insects.

  “I hear a car coming,” Marsha said softly.

  No headlights broke through the darkness.

  “I’ve got a feeling this is our man,” Nellie said.

  They strained their ears to hear the approaching vehicle, but soon, even the sound of the engine was gone.

  “Let’s get into position,” Sonya said in a whisper. “Whoever it is doesn’t want to be seen or heard. I’m pretty sure, this time, we won’t be making a mistake.”

  Marsha went first down the ladder and helped Nellie in the darkness. Everything in the cellar was ready. They both hid behind the stall divider while Sonya sat ready for the slam of the cellar door below. For the last hour, Fritz had been silent.

  “I’ll go out and see who it is, if you want, Sunny.” he said softly in her ear.

  “Stay close by Fritz. I may need your help here. Suddenly, I’m terribly nervous,” she replied.

  The full, bright moon cast a lovely light over the tranquil farm. From Sonya’s vantage point, she saw a figure moving along the edge of the road. It stayed in the shadows of the trees and along the fence until the darkness of the oak trees obscured its advance from view. Sonya’s heart was beating in her throat. The silent figure certainly didn’t want to be seen or heard. By staying on the grass, their footfalls made no sound.

  Sonya strained her ears for any signs of someone being in the barn. Nothing other than the ceaseless chirping of crickets, June bugs, and the nighttime breeze could be heard. For five minutes, she sat hoping for the cellar door to slam shut, and that’s when she smelled it—smoke! Something was burning.

  “Come on, lass,” Fritz said beside her. “You’ve gotta get down from here. Go!”

  “Is it the barn? I can’t, Fritz!” Sonya answered. “What if the killer is down there?”

  “Go down Sonya! I’ll handle him,” Fritz commanded.

  The smoke was filling the barn as Sonya descended the ladder. Once on the ground level, the black thickness in the air made it impossible to see.

  “Nellie! Marsha! Where are you?” she called. Choking from inhaling the smoke, she turned to run outside but stopped upon hearing voices calling to her from inside the cellar.

  “Fritz!” she screamed. “They’re in the cellar! You’ve got to get them out! I can’t breathe anymore.”

  The wooden plank latch swung up and the door was thrust open. Nellie and Marsha pushed through the cloud of smoke. All three women quickly ran out into the yard and breathed deeply. Birds flew from the barn’s loft over their heads, and vermin came scuttling out, running past their feet.

  “What happened? How did you get locked inside?” Sonya asked between coughing fits.

  Nellie was trying to suck air into her lungs. She was bent over at the waist resting her hands on her knees and intermittently coughing, as well. Instead of answering, she shook her head. Marsha had gone to the far end of the yard and sat down on the ground. She, too, was trying to inhale fresh air.

  The fire within the barn grew and roared as it consumed the hay, the ancient timbers, and the dry wooden exterior. Things exploded inside and the sound of rafters falling and crashing in upon each other could be heard.

  “I didn’t see the face,” Nellie finally answered. “It was my fault. I couldn’t hear anything, so I peeked around the post and ran smack dab into this person all in black. Whoever it was had a gun and motioned for me to go inside the cellar. Their head was covered with a ski mask. Marsha followed like a lamb. The person grabbed my knapsack with the papers and left.”

  “They tried to get rid of the evidence,” Sonya said ruefully. “They’ve got to be gone.”

  “Not quite,” came
Fritz’s voice from behind Sonya, making them all jump. Sonya whirled around and saw two people walking up the road. The closer they got, she realized one of them was Zeb Walker, the other…

  “Melanie Mitchell? Well if that doesn’t beat all!” Marsha exclaimed.

  Chapter 30

  “She tried to kill us!” Sonya declared pointing at Melanie. “Where’s the knapsack? That’ll prove it was her!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ricky’s wife hissed back. “I came out here because Ricky said to come talk with Mrs. Turner about Poppy.”

  Nellie walked over to Melanie. “You’re a liar and that ring on your finger proves it.” Nellie pointed to a beautiful blue sapphire on Melanie’s left hand.

  “This ring was given to me by Ricky,” Melanie stung back. “It’s my wedding ring.”

  “That’s my Poppy’s ring. You were the one who pushed her down the steps and look, Sheriff, Melanie’s left-handed, right?” Nellie demanded.

  Melanie wouldn’t answer.

  “When you pulled the gun on us, I saw that ring in the light. No doubt about it, you were the one who made us go in and lit the fire to finish us off.”

  “It was her,” Fritz said in Sonya’s ear. “She’s got dark spots around her. She has the mark, Sunny.”

  The blood in Sonya’s veins slowed. People who had amassed black spots, dark holes pulling on what goodness there was left in a person, were frightening to meet. If Melanie had more than one, she’d done some pretty bad, soul-damning deeds.

  “You’ve got to tell the truth about Poppy,” Sonya commanded, looking straight at Melanie. “You’ve got to make amends, Mrs. Mitchell, if you killed her. This is more important for you than for any other person standing in this circle.”

  Something in Sonya’s tone momentarily cooled Melanie’s hostility. The sneer on her face froze for a minute and, in her eyes, Sonya saw doubt.

  “The black spots around her have begun to writhe and pulsate,” Fritz whispered. “Gross things, evil things.”

  Sonya saw the doubt leave Melanie’s eyes and a coldness return.

  “I haven’t done anything, and you’ve got no proof other than this lunatic,” she pointed at Nellie, “claiming that I pushed her into that cellar.”

  Everyone was quiet, so when Marsha spoke, her soft words were heard perfectly.

  “No one has mentioned the cellar. How would you have known anything about it, if you hadn’t been there.”

  Melanie went for Marsha with both hands. Her face twisted with rage. Zeb pulled her back and put handcuffs on her.

  “Might as well be a family reunion tonight at the police station, Melanie. I’ve already got Ricky doing time, but nothing like what you’re going to do. We’ll find the knapsack. She’s pitched it somewhere. It’s a matter of time and a good dog’s nose. Funny, but now we have a dog that can do that for us.”

  As he walked her back down the dirt road, sirens climbed up the highway meaning the flames must have been seen or Zeb had reported it. The fire trucks were on their way. Sonya, Nellie, and Marsha turned around to watch the Turner barn collapse in upon itself.

  “This finishes it,” Nellie said. “That ring on Melanie’s hand was my mother’s. I’d given it to Poppy and she always wore it. That filthy piece of human waste must have taken it off my baby’s hand. I’m telling you, Ricky Mitchell had a hand in this, too. There’s no way one lone woman lifted a body, got it into a car and dug a hole three miles away to bury it. Let’s go to the police station. I want what’s mine.”

  As the fire continued to burn and the fire trucks descended on the farm, Sonya and Nellie dropped Marsha back at her car. With gratitude for friendship in times you least expect it, they thanked her with hugs and promises to come by Tilly’s later.

  “Why do you think they killed Poppy?” Nellie asked softly as they drove back to Willow Valley.

  “I can’t answer that, Nellie, but rest assured. You’re about to find out.”

  It was a wild scene in the police station when Sonya and Nellie arrived in the reception area. Melanie was being fingerprinted, and she was yelling for her right to a lawyer. Sheriff Walker had her handcuffed to a chair taking samples for a ballistics test from her hands.

  “Mrs. Mitchell,” Zeb was saying, “we need to take these samples and your fingerprints. Your husband has already admitted burying Poppy’s body. Once we find the knapsack, it’ll have your fingerprints on it. You’re about to be put away for murder and for attempted murder.”

  “That’s a dirty lie! He tossed her down the stairs because she’d gone off and gotten pregnant by that two-timing Ryan Houseman!”

  As Sonya was turning around to say to Nellie that maybe they should come back later, Nellie was already moving in Melanie’s direction like a bulldog about to attack.

  “Nellie! Don’t do it!” Sonya said, but it was of no use because Nellie already had Melanie by the hair.

  “Give me my mother’s ring you ripped from my child’s hand before her body was cold!” Nellie growled. She grabbed Melanie’s hand, pulled the ring free from her finger, and slapped Melanie across the face before Zeb pulled her off of his prisoner.

  “Never again,” Nellie said with so much menace in her voice that Melanie actually cringed backward from her, “will you wear what rightfully belonged to my daughter. This ring,” she showed it to Melanie, “is going to be destroyed with a hammer into a thousand little bits for having been on your filthy finger.”

  No one spoke. Melanie and Nellie’s gaze locked. One woman with fear on her face, the other, with pain and contempt.

  “Nellie, you need to back off,” Zeb said, “or I’ll have to lock you up, too, for battery. Go sit down over there. Ricky has given a complete confession about Poppy’s death. Once I have Melanie in her cell, I’ll come back and explain everything.”

  Thirty minutes later, Sonya and Nellie were sitting in a bleak conference room when Zeb walked in and sat down. He gave the two women a weak smile.

  “Melanie won’t admit anything, but what we have from Ricky matches what we know. After Ricky left the night of Poppy’s death, he went to Melanie’s house, but she wasn’t there. Her mother told him she’d gone to find him at the Turner farm. He went back and found Poppy at the bottom of the stairs dead. She had bled from the head and he saw she’d miscarried. He was horrified and he panicked.”

  “So, he didn’t kill her,” Sonya murmured. “Poppy didn’t think so either.”

  Zeb continued. “Well, he found Melanie that night at a favorite bar they liked to go to and told her that Poppy had fallen down the stairs. He said Melanie told him he was better off telling everyone she’d run off with some man so that he could sell everything off. When he told her he didn’t have any rights to the house or land because it was in an estate, he said she told him with the right documentation, he could have half the farm.”

  “So when did he figure it out that Melanie had killed her?” Nellie asked Zeb.

  “According to him, he took the ring off Poppy’s hand and gave it to Melanie. That year, the river flooded down by The Whispering Pines RV Park. Where Marnie was building her pool, there was a boggy area beginning to dry out. He didn’t have to dig much to bury Poppy. Later, when word got out that you were coming home from Australia, Melanie must have gotten worried about you asking for a real investigation into Poppy’s death. Any forensic team worth their salt would have found the residue of the blood at the bottom of the stairs. That’s when he finally knew it had been her because the night your house burned, Ricky said she came home smelling of kerosene. She took a bath and had difficulty getting the stink off her.”

  “So, did he ask her about it?”

  “Yes. She wouldn’t admit to it, but he said he knew because Melanie told him it was lucky it had burned. No one would ever find the evidence of Poppy’s blood or miscarriage. That cinched it. He’d never discussed the miscarriage with Melanie. She’d refused the night he buried the body to go with him. The only way she�
�d have known about it was if she’d been there when Poppy died.”

  Nellie burst into tears. “Oh, Zeb, promise me she’ll never hurt anyone ever again. Promise me she’ll be locked up.”

  Zeb reached across the table and took Nellie’s hand.

  “I promise, Nell. Melanie Mitchell will go to prison and stay there.”

  “Why did she want Poppy dead?” Sonya asked. “Was it in hopes of selling the farm for the money?”

  Zeb shook his head in a gesture of mystification. “Ricky says he believes Melanie was jealous of Poppy, but I think it was greed. He says she’s been on him since their marriage to find a way to sell off the land and the house. It was worth a fortune, and she knew it. He said it never would sink in that even with Poppy’s death, he couldn’t get the rights to the estate. I think if you and Rose had been living here, Nell, Melanie would have probably come after you, too, and in the end, she did.”

  Removing his hand, he leaned back in his chair and studied the two women. “There’s one more thing. Chief Robertson has called me about the fire. Your barn is gone.”

  He paused and added, “But they found something interesting buried below the barn’s foundation. It was a natural cave that had been blocked up, probably used to hide things. The falling timbers of the fire broke through the brick floor of the barn, opening it up.”

  Sonya and Nellie waited.

  “They found a cache of Civil War gold ingots, Nellie. Interestingly enough, the marks are CSA, or Confederate States of America. I think you’re an extremely wealthy woman.”

  “They found gold?” was all Nellie was able to say.

  “The treasure was real, and it’s been down there for a hundred and fifty years. Good thing it was buried in the barn. If it had been in the floor of the house, Ricky and Melanie probably wouldn’t be around to stand trial for murder.”

  Nellie was quiet for a few minutes. Then with slow, deliberate words, she said, “I’m going to take that money and build a nature center. There’s over a hundred acres of unspoiled natural beauty out there and I’ll have a memorial to Poppy and her baby right in the middle. Too much sadness and horror have taken place there. Making it a place for people to go and enjoy its pastures, old trees and quiet, will wash away the dark deeds and bring a bit of peace to anyone who needs it.”