The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run

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The Spirits of Six Minstrel Run Page 19

by Matthew S. Cox


  “What’s on your mind?” asked Wilhelmina between bites of turkey sandwich.

  Mia looked around the room, but other than a mild sense of unease, didn’t feel anything of significance. “Just trying to figure out if Evelyn worked here.”

  “No, she waited tables at a place in Fulton on the late shift, usually not getting out of there until one in the morning, provided she didn’t get stuck longer than that. Not enough business here to make any real money.”

  “Vic worked at the Gulf station near the end of Main Street, didn’t he?” Mia picked up half her giant sandwich, certain the other part would go home with her.

  “That’s right. Micky O’Riordan sold the place about, oh, twenty years ago. Died in 2008 if I remember right.”

  “On the way here, I just happened to look over at it and saw Vic standing in the garage. It had to be me sensing the past. Why would he haunt that place?”

  Wilhelmina shook her head, making a strand of long pewter hair fall from her shoulder. “If he haunted anywhere, it would be Johnny’s. The man spent more time there than at home.”

  “Wish he’d stayed there that night.” Mia let her mind wander around what ifs while she ate a few bites of her sandwich and some fries. “How did he figure out she planned to leave him? And, if Evelyn worked in Fulton, she would’ve needed a car of her own. She told Robin they weren’t leaving that night because the grandfather couldn’t pick them up until tomorrow. But… if Evelyn had a car, they could’ve gone right then. Why did she leave that poor child alone in the house for him to find?”

  “Well, you’re a smart woman. I think you already know the answer to at least one of those.” Wilhelmina nibbled on a pickle slice. “She chickened out. Grandpa was an excuse for little ears. Why she chickened out, I have no idea… but I’m sure she blamed herself for what happened.”

  “She did.” Mia closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cry. “She absolutely did…”

  “As to how Vic found out? That would be Suzanne Stroh. She worked at the same diner in Fulton. Overheard Evelyn on the phone with her parents, asking them if she and Robin could go there for a while since she wanted to leave Vic.”

  “Bitch,” muttered Mia. “Jealous former girlfriend or something?”

  “Not as far as anyone admitted. Back then, people were a lot more committed to propriety. Suzanne was part of a group of local busybodies who nosed around making sure everyone stayed right with the church, kept their lawns perfect, planted the right flowers, that sort of thing. Though, some people thought Vic might’ve been having an affair. Who he had an affair with changed depending on the person telling you about it. I can’t say for sure if that’s anything more than rumor.”

  “Ugh. So, a woman leaving her man would’ve been scandalous? Even though he beat the shit out of her?” Mia gawked.

  “Somewhat. Suzanne and Vic were friends, though I doubt anything romantic happened between them. That woman wasn’t the type of person to condone infidelity. I believe she thought marriage to be inviolate and any problem could be worked out if she’d only be willing to talk to him.”

  “Oh, like he was violent because Evelyn somehow failed to ‘wife’ properly?”

  Wilhelmina frowned. “Something to that effect, yes.”

  “That bitch effectively killed Robin. She told Vic that Evelyn planned to leave him. I bet he probably expected she’d already be gone by the time he’d have gotten home from work, so he went straight to the bar to get drunk.”

  “Did you see something or are you guessing?”

  “Mostly guessing, but it feels right.” Mia wagged her quarter sandwich at Wilhelmina. “Somehow, he figured out that she didn’t leave yet, maybe he called the place she worked. Possibly, he thinks he’s going to try and change her mind, maybe ‘knock some sense’ into her… but somewhere between leaving the bar and arriving home, he just became furious with her for daring to think she could leave him. Decides to hurt her in the worst way possible.”

  “Sounds plausible.”

  “Men like that often view their wives as property,” said Adam from the aisle beside the table.

  Mia jumped.

  “In my opinion, as soon as he heard she’d made the decision to leave, he’d likely have become enraged.” Adam scooted into the booth beside Mia and gave her a brief kiss. “The man most likely went drinking as an outlet for his anger at not being able to get at Evelyn, believing she’d already left. When he learned she hadn’t gone away yet and was still in his reach, he rushed home to… well, you know the rest.”

  “Hello, Adam.” Wilhelmina nodded in greeting.

  “Professor Marx.” He smiled.

  “Oh, pshaw.” She smirked at him.

  Mia handed him a menu. Martha, already on her way to the table, made a face at that, perhaps annoyed that a newbie needed time to decide. She continued past them to the booth where the lone man sat.

  Adam glanced over the menu, but closed it after only ten seconds. “Interesting place. Where do they hide the time machine?”

  Mia leaned on him. “I was wondering that, too.”

  Martha walked up to their table.

  “B7 please,” said Adam.

  “Chicken parmesan sandwich.” Wilhelmina toasted him with her water glass. “It’s rather good here.”

  “Drink?” asked Martha.

  “Water’s fine, thanks.” Adam smiled at her.

  They proceeded to catch him up on the conversation he’d missed. Wilhelmina didn’t mind staying while he ate, so to fill the time, Mia explained her dream of the murder.

  “Do you think it’s something I randomly picked up from the house or did Robin send it to me on purpose?”

  Wilhelmina repetitively stroked her fingers down a strand of her hair while thinking. Eventually, a sly smile formed. “I’m not sure why you’re asking me about psychic things. Now, if you have any questions about witchcraft, then we can talk.”

  Mia chuckled. She considered telling them about Robin trying to throw a hair dryer into the tub, but couldn’t get it out. As much as Adam adored being this close to such a profound paranormal experience, if he thought she could be hurt, he’d drag her out of the house and she couldn’t bear to abandon Robin. Besides, she’d reached an accord with the ghost and didn’t think the child would try harming her again.

  And… part of her feared what the girl might do to him if he tried to make her leave.

  Lying had never been one of Mia’s talents, so she didn’t often try it. She couldn’t recall ever having deliberately lied to Adam before with the exception of evading questions when trying to surprise him with a holiday gift. Playful lies she could slip through since no guilt came from it. That thought gave her the crutch she needed to keep a plastic smile for the rest of dinner, despite her lie of omission. Her motivation not to tell Adam about her near-electrocution came from her desire to protect him from what Robin might do.

  Not being completely honest with Adam bothered her.

  But…

  That some part of her still feared the ghost might not be so innocent bothered her more.

  24

  Back to God

  Tuesday, September 4, 2012

  The constant murmuring of distant voices came from the window to Mia’s left, coaxing her out of sleep.

  She groaned and lifted her head to peer at the alarm clock on the chest-of-drawers, which read 6:51 a.m. Grr. Mia let her head fall back to the pillow. Who stole nine precious minutes of sleep? Rapid soft thumps went by her side of the bed from the door to the window, the unmistakable sound of a child running. A rustle came from the curtain, which fluttered to the side as though someone small ducked under it to get to the window.

  The mood in the room shifted to intense anger.

  Worried, Mia slipped out of bed and approached the window to peer out.

  Some-teen number of people had gathered in a group on the grass a short distance from her porch. Weston Parker stood at the center holding a book, apparently leading them in prayer
. The cold spot in front of her dissipated and the curtain fell draped against the windowsill.

  Oh, please don’t be about to do something bad…

  Mia glared at Weston for a second or two before hastily changing out of her nightgown into a T-shirt and sweat pants. She grabbed her phone and ran downstairs, ignoring the hiss of water in the bathroom from Adam, who’d obviously gotten into the shower before the church brigade showed up.

  Once downstairs, she rummaged around the kitchen until she found the tiny local phone book that had appeared on her porch a few days ago, and called the non-emergency number for the Spring Falls police department. Her alarm went off upstairs, the beeping annoying, but not so loud she couldn’t ignore it while in the kitchen.

  “Spring Falls Sheriff’s office,” said a man by way of answering. “This is Nate.”

  “Hi. My name is Mia Gartner. I’d like to report harassment, and maybe trespassing.”

  Noise came over the line that made her picture him holding an old-fashioned corded phone handset to the side of his head with his shoulder. “Mia… Gartner… Doesn’t sound familiar. New in town?”

  “Yes. We just moved in a couple weeks ago.”

  “Ahh. Welcome to Spring Falls. What’s the address?”

  “Six Minstrel Run.”

  Silence.

  She waited about thirty seconds before asking, “Hello?”

  “Yeah… still here. You said Six Minstrel Run?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Mm-hmm. What is harassing you?”

  Mia raked her free hand over her hair, sighing at the ‘oh, here we go again’ tone in his voice. “Not a what. A who. Weston Parker. He’s standing outside on my lawn with a large group, chanting some biblical nonsense. I’ve asked him repeatedly to leave me alone, but he won’t.”

  “Uhh huh,” said Nate, drawing it out to fill time with sound while writing something down. “And what’s got the good preacher stalking you?”

  “I’m not entirely sure. Either my not being interested in going to his church or that he seems to think this house is haunted and my soul is in danger.”

  Nate chuckled. “That house does have a bit of a history. You said ‘seems to think’… you don’t believe your soul’s in danger?”

  Great. Do I lie to a cop or have him think I’m crazy? “I’ve heard the house has a dark history, but nothing has happened here yet that’s made me concerned for my wellbeing. I do kind of object to being disturbed early in the morning by a bunch of living people on my front lawn.”

  Her alarm stopped going off.

  She glanced up at the ceiling. Thanks, Adam… or Robin.

  “Do you have reason to suspect the pastor or his people represent an imminent threat of harm to your person or property?”

  She grumbled. “Not really. He’s just annoying.”

  “Heh, yeah, ol’ Weston can be a bit pushy, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Mia randomly pictured her father’s ‘church smile.’ Everyone thought him so pleasant and moral. They never saw the tyrant capable of whipping his kids with a belt until she nearly fainted from pain or Timothy wet himself, nor would anyone have believed her if she told them such things. James Williams would never hurt a fly. That man couldn’t possibly ever raise a hand to his children. Her father had claimed to be doing God’s work, but she suspected he got a thrill from having a sense of power and authority over them.

  Weston’s got dark secrets, too, I bet. She narrowed her eyes, then felt guilty for assuming him sadistic merely for being religious. He probably was, but maybe—just maybe—she projected her father onto him.

  “Can you please get them off my lawn, maybe ask him to leave me alone?”

  “All right. I’ve known Weston a while. He’s a little mixed up and that house of yours has some history with him. Do you feel comfortable asking him one more time to mind his own business? Let him know you spoke to me, and next time, it’ll be me asking him to give you space. That should do the trick.”

  Mia didn’t feel at all worried the older man would physically harm her. “Okay. I’ll try one more time. Small town, right? Everyone knows everyone, and people who call the police over every little thing don’t make friends.”

  “Heh. Yeah, little bit of that goes on out here, though most people don’t have much problem with each other. If he gives you any trouble, call me right on back and I’ll head out that way.”

  “All right. Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  She hung up.

  “Hon?” called Adam from the top of the stairs. “Isn’t it a bit early for carolers?”

  “They’re not singing.” Mia stormed down the hall from the kitchen to the living room. “Just got off the phone with the cop. I’m going to try one more time to tell this man to leave us alone.”

  Adam, already dressed for work, hurried down the stairs. “Be careful.”

  She nodded to him, opened the door, and walked to the edge of the porch by the steps, arms folded. Sixteen people stood in two rows of eight behind Weston, all at least fifty or older, an even mix of women and men. Her gaze settled on a guy in the back row, third from the right… the same man who’d been sitting two tables away from them at the Pinecone Diner. She scowled at him, thinking it wouldn’t be too tragic if he fell down a flight of stairs. The uncharacteristically violent idea vanished as fast as it formed.

  Ack… where did that come from?

  Weston approached, stopping at the base of the porch steps. “Mrs. Gartner.”

  The people on the lawn continued muttering prayers, asking the Lord to banish the evil from the house.

  Adam moved up behind her.

  “Mr. Gartner.” Weston nodded in greeting.

  “What’s this?” Mia gestured at the group. “Normal people have to wake up early and go to work. I’ve asked you at least twice to leave me alone.”

  Weston clasped his bible in both hands against his chest. “It has come to my attention that you’re at risk of becoming involved with that Marx woman and her collection of lost souls. I would be remiss in my duties if I allowed Satan to seduce you. It’s quite evident to me that this house has already started to affect you and pull you away from God.”

  “I said it once already… if God wants to save me, he’s free to do so. If his help is conditional, it’s not coming from benevolence.”

  Weston moved up one step. “Those who suffer the delusions of Satan are not in a position to see the danger they’re in. The Father of Lies deceives, he takes on the guise of innocence to lure the unwary to their deaths and eternal torment.”

  She opened her mouth, then closed it. “Before I say what had come to mind, I have a question for you.”

  He blinked, seeming surprised. “All right.”

  “You may have noticed I have been somewhat hostile to you from the moment you mentioned your being a pastor.”

  “I have.”

  She set her hands on her hips. “My parents are like you… God this, God that. They thought themselves so virtuous and pure, yet when they discovered that my younger brother is gay, their cruelty knew no bounds. If they wouldn’t have been arrested for it, they’d have kicked him out of the house at thirteen. They constantly told him what an abomination he was, how he’d be better off dead, how he made God weep, how he wasn’t really their son and they were ashamed to have brought him into the world… They wanted nothing to do with him and we haven’t had any contact with them in years.”

  Weston cringed.

  “Do you agree with them?”

  “Not all who claim to follow the Word of God hear the True Word. They shouldn’t have condemned him for who he is, and should have spent their time bringing him back to God.”

  “Back? Is this some conversion therapy bullshit?”

  Weston shook his head. “No, I’m sorry you misunderstand. I believe God has a reason for everything he does, even creating people who feel physical attraction to others of the same sex. We are all His children. Who o
ur mortal selves feel drawn to doesn’t matter.”

  She blinked in absolute disbelief. “Wait, so you wouldn’t have any problem with someone who’s gay?”

  “Not for that reason alone. We are all His children.”

  “Oh…” Mia fidgeted, biting her lip and feeling guilty for nearly ripping his head off verbally.

  Weston reached out and grasped her hand. “I am afraid for your soul, Mia. Those people you are associating with traffic in foul energies and call on darkness. That woman you trust isn’t what she seems. She had something to do with what happened here; I am sure of it.”

  “What?” asked Adam, emerging from the house behind her. “You think Wilhelmina was involved with Robin’s death?”

  “I do.” Weston released Mia’s hand and clasped his Bible again. “Even as a young girl, she’d been wont to spend her time alone in the forest talking to demons and other creatures. She eschewed God and sought the company of imps and goblins. Do you not think it suspicious that Wilhelmina Marx babysat the little girl, but Evelyn didn’t call her to watch the child the night she was murdered? Why would the woman leave her seven-year-old child alone in the house and go to work thirty miles away in Fulton?”

  “Because she expected Vic would come home at any minute. Maybe she tried to call Wilhelmina and… she was only thirteen at the time. She wouldn’t have been able to stay up late, might’ve even been in bed already herself. You’re criticizing Evelyn for leaving Robin alone, but think it’s fine to drag a thirteen-year-old out of bed that late? I’m not even sure what time Evelyn left, but it was already dark out.”

  “You’re assuming Evelyn didn’t call her. I believe she did. What rational woman would leave a child that young alone? As soon as Wilhelmina Marx had the house to herself, she and her friends conducted a Satanic ritual that culminated with the sacrifice of a child she’d been entrusted to protect.”

  Mia gasped. “That’s a lie.”

  “Vic discovered the body, and it broke him. They found him sitting on the bridge ready to jump because he’d been so grief stricken. The girls—Wilhelmina and her friend Pauline—used one of his tools to kill the child, so everyone naturally assumed he did it. Especially with the troubles he’d had with the wife.”

 

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