by Terri Reid
Gloria looked down at her hand clasped in his and then slowly looked up and met his eyes. “She had no reason to kill herself,” she whispered. “Everyone loved her. I don’t understand…”
“I read the police report,” Mary said. “You were the one who found your daughter.”
Gloria turned to Mary and nodded. “I was just checking on her, like I did every night,” she said. “To be sure she was safe…”
Her voice shook and she took a deep breath. “I tried to help her…I tried to lift her up…but I wasn’t strong enough,” she explained. “If only I’d been stronger…”
“No, that wouldna helped,” Ian said. “She was gone before you found her.”
She looked at Ian. “Are you sure?” she asked. “How can you know?”
“I know,” he assured her. “And I’m sure.”
She slipped her hand out from his clasp and searched in the pockets of her caftan for a handkerchief. Drawing it out and turning away from them and toward the window, she dabbed away the moisture from around her eyes. “They…the authorities…told me that too. I just always thought…”
“Aye, if there was only something I had done or something I had said,” Ian added softly.
She looked at him, grateful for his understanding, “Yes. Yes, what could I have done to prevent it?” she said.
“And that’s why we’re here today, speaking with you,” Ian replied. “To try and find out some of those answers.”
“Will your study help find out what happened to my daughter?” she asked.
“That’s one of our goals,” Mary answered honestly. “We want to find out the truth and use that to help prevent other deaths.”
Gloria took a deep breath, placed her folded hands on her lap and faced them. “Ask me what you will,” she said. “I get a little confused sometimes, but I will try my best.”
“That’s all we’re asking for, darling,” Ian said.
“We’ll take it slow,” Mary added.
“Now, tell us about the day it happened,” Ian said.
“Well, I remember that Hope had been quite dramatic that day. She was upset about Faith and her boyfriend. She actually accused Faith of maliciously trying to steal her boyfriends. I explained to her that Faith couldn’t help being popular.”
“Was there any boy in particular involved with Hope at the time?” Mary asked.
“Oh, yes,” Gloria paused, searching her memory. “He was a strange young man; not at all someone Faith would be interested in. It was obviously a one-sided attraction. He liked computer games and role-playing. Always talking about swords and knives.”
She shuddered. “I always wondered if he had talked her into killing herself. He seemed to be the type that would find glory in death.”
“Did you mention that to the police?” Mary asked.
Shaking her head, Gloria said, “Oh, no, her death was obviously a suicide. Why would I implicate someone else?”
“Do you remember his name?” Ian asked.
“It was…something…foreign sounding,” she said slowly, trying to remember. “Nickolas. That was it…Nickolas.”
“Do you recall his last name?” Mary asked.
She shook her head and appeared to be a little confused for a moment. “No, just Nickolas. It’s been such a long time and after she died, well, I lost track of a lot of things.”
“How did Faith react to her sister’s death?” Mary asked.
Turning away from both of them, she stared out the window for a few minutes. She dabbed the handkerchief against the corners of her eyes and finally took a deep trembling breath. “Faith died that day,” Gloria said, and then she shook her head. “It was so awful. So we had to send her away.”
She looked back at them, her eyes filled with remorse. “We had to do it,” she tried to explain. “No one would believe that Faith…”
Pausing for a moment, she seemed to be concentrating on something in the back of her mind. “No one will believe us,” she said softly, not seeming to be aware of Mary and Ian any longer. “They will think she murdered her sister. We have to send her away where she will be safe.”
She looked up at them. “I didn’t want her to go,” she confessed. “He did, my husband, the lawyer. He said people would talk. They would always blame her. There was no reason she would have killed herself. She had so much to live for.”
“He thought people would blame Faith?” Mary asked. “So he sent her away?”
Gloria turned to Mary and shook her head. “He sent her away and she came back a different person,” she said, and then her eyes filled with tears, “I lost both of my daughters that day.”
Chapter Twenty-three
Clarissa and Maggie skipped hand in hand from the school into the playground for recess. A few other girls joined them, girls that remembered Clarissa from her early days in Freeport. “We’re the ‘doption girls again,” Maggie said. “And we’re always going to be best friends.”
Clarissa thought about it for a moment. “But, I’m not ‘dopted anymore,” she said. “Daddy Bradley is my real daddy.”
Maggie stopped skipping and let go of Clarissa’s hand. Ever since she saw Clarissa with Mike, she had felt a little left-out. Mike had been her friend. He had watched over her when she stayed with Mary. And now Mary was going to be Clarissa’s mommy. She probably wouldn’t have time to do things together, like they used to do. It wasn’t fair. Clarissa was ruining everything.
“No he’s not,” Maggie said angrily. “He’s not your real dad.”
“Yes he is,” Clarissa said. “He told me.”
Maggie shook her head. “No. No, you’re still just ‘dopted,” she said. “Bradley and Mary are just being nice ‘cause they feel sorry for you and don’t have their own kids.”
Clarissa’s heart was pounding and she was getting frightened. Could Maggie be telling the truth? Were the others just lying?
She looked around for Mike and saw him standing next to the door. He would know, he would tell her the truth. Angels couldn’t lie.
Maggie turned to see where Clarissa was looking. She was a little ashamed of her behavior, and she didn’t want Mike to know she’d been bad. “Mike can’t say anything,” Maggie said. “They all lied to you because they want you to feel better. So, it’s a white lie and even angels can tell white lies.”
Clarissa turned back to Maggie, her eyes filled with tears and her lips trembling. “Bradley’s really not my daddy?” she asked.
Maggie, feeling a pit growing in her stomach, forced herself to shake her head. “No, you’re still just a ‘doption girl, just like me.”
“But, you have a family,” Clarissa whispered. “And they love you and will keep you forever.”
Turning away from Maggie, she wiped her face with her mittened hands. “I still don’t have anybody.”
She ran away from Maggie to the far end of the playground, crying as she ran.
Tears of remorse pooled in Maggie’s eyes. She knew she had been purposefully mean and she thought she wanted to hurt Clarissa. But hurting Clarissa hadn’t made her feel better, it actually had made her feel much worse. She had to tell someone what she’d done.
She looked over and saw Mike watching her. She hated that Mike would be disappointed in her, but she knew she had to confess.
Hurrying over to him, she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Mike, I just did something very bad,” she said.
Mike glanced over and saw that Clarissa was still within the gated security of the playground and turned his attention to Maggie. He squatted down in front of her and met her eyes. “Okay, kid, spill it,” he said. “What did you do?”
Clarissa didn’t know what to do. Had they all really lied? If Bradley isn’t my daddy, then who is? Why did my mommy give me up? Why did my daddy let her? Doesn’t anyone really love me?
She wandered close to the wrought iron gate at the edge of the schoolyard.
“What’s wrong sweetheart?”
Clarissa looked up to s
ee a man standing on the other side of the fence. She backed up two steps.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. You just looked so sad.”
“I am sad,” she said.
“Well, a pretty little girl like you shouldn’t be sad,” he said. “I’m sure you have a lot to be happy about.”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. My mommy’s dead and my daddy’s dead. And no one loves me.”
“Well, if I had a little girl like you, I’d love her,” the man said. “I would take her to wonderful places all around the world and buy her all kinds of wonderful things.”
Wiping her eyes again, she studied him for a moment. “You would?”
He nodded. “Yes, I would, Clarissa.”
“How do you know my name?” she asked, suddenly fearful.
“Because, sweetheart, I’m your real daddy,” he said.
She froze, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re the bad man,” she whispered through stiff lips.
He shook his head sadly. “No, sweetheart, I’m the good man,” he replied. “I’m just misunderstood.”
He took an envelope out of his coat pocket and tossed it to her. “Now you take this and give it to Bradley,” he said. “Don’t give it to anyone else. Promise?”
She nodded slowly and picked up the envelope and put it in her pocket.
“Good girl,” he said with a smile. “Now go back to school before someone misses you. I’ll come back and see you another time.”
Clarissa turned and ran back toward the school. She was almost to the door when she turned and looked back to the fence. The man was gone.
Mike appeared next to her and she jumped. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes. “I have to get back in before I’m late,” she said, and turned from him and ran back into the school.
Chapter Twenty-four
Mary unlocked the door to her office and Ian followed her into the building. “Thanks for the detour, this won’t take more than a few minutes,” she said, as she headed toward her desk.
Ian slipped off his jacket and tossed it onto the back of the chair in front of her desk. “While you’re checking your phone messages, I’ll visit your facilities,” he said, walking over to the bathroom and closing the door.
Mary pressed the button next to the flashing red light and heard, “You have two new messages.”
She picked up a notepad and pen and waited for the first message.
“Hello, Mary. Mary O’Reilly? This is Faye Vyas. I was just wondering if you had any updates for me. Did you get a chance to go back to the house last night? Were you able to get rid of whatever it is that’s haunting us? Please get back to me.”
Mary reached over and pressed the delete button and then the second message started and the pen and pad slipped out of her hands.
“Hello Mary. Have you missed me? I’ve been thinking about you. Thinking about your soft skin and the way it felt beneath my hands. I know you liked it, Mary. I know you would have been writhing with pleasure beneath me if only we hadn’t been interrupted. And Mary, next time I’ll make sure we have plenty of uninterrupted time together…”
Ian clicked off the machine and very nearly picked it up and threw it against the wall. When he had walked out of the bathroom and saw Mary, her fist pressed against her stomach, her face white with fear, and then had heard Gary’s voice, anger had been his first response. By the time he’d reached her desk, he realized they would need the recording as evidence and so he only shut it off.
He took hold of Mary’s arms and turned her towards him. “Mary, are you…”
She looked up in shock, and then pushed past him and ran into the bathroom. He heard her emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet and when she was done, followed her into the bathroom. Pulling the hand towel from the rack, he dampened it with cold water, knelt down next to Mary and handed it to her. “Here, darling, wipe your face,” he murmured. “That a girl.”
She mopped her face roughly and sat back against the wall. “I can’t believe I let him get to me,” she said angrily.
He got up and walked out of the room. Mary heard her small refrigerator open and then heard the metallic hiss of a pop can being opened. She smiled with gratitude when Ian handed her a Diet Pepsi and then sat down next to her. “Thanks,” she said between sips.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Like an idiot,” she replied, her words bitten off in anger.
“Well, then, it’s a good thing.”
“What’s a good thing?” she asked, turning to him, the Pepsi can frozen halfway to her mouth.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t take you out to lunch before we came to your office,” he replied with a smile. “It would have been such a waste.”
A slight smile flitted across her lips. “Shut up,” she said.
Grinning, he nodded. “Aye, and there’s the Mary we all know and love.”
“Ian, I let him get to me again,” she said. “I let him win.”
“He caught you unaware, darling, it was a sneak attack,” he said. “He’ll not get that chance again.”
She shook her head. “No, he won’t.”
“And he made a major mistake.”
“What? What mistake?” she asked.
“You’re not just cautious or even afraid anymore, you’re angry,” he said. “And an angry Mary O’Reilly is very dangerous.”
Smiling broadly, she took a gulp of Pepsi, jumped up and offered Ian a hand. A little confused, he took her hand and stood. “What’s this?” he asked.
“I just realized that I’m not only angry, I’m starving, and you offered to pay for lunch.”
“Sit down or drive-through?” he asked.
She thought about it for a moment. “Drive through,” she decided. “That way we can work on both of these cases. Gary Copper won’t know what hit him.”
“And when we call Bradley…” he began, as they walked toward the front door.
“No,” she interrupted.
“What?”
“No, we don’t need to call Bradley,” she insisted. “Gary’s call could have been made from Canada, for all we know. Bradley’s got enough on his mind right now. We don’t need to worry him.”
Ian stopped walking, folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. “Mary, do you think he’s not always worrying about you and Clarissa?”
Sighing, she shook her head. “No, I know he’s worried. But there’s nothing he can do about a phone message, is there?”
Thinking it over for a minute, Ian realized she was right. “But he needs to know,” he insisted.
Walking back over to her desk, she unplugged the answering machine. Then she picked up the phone, pressed a few buttons and put the receiver back on the cradle. “Okay, I forwarded my calls to the house and I have the answering machine for evidence,” she said. “I’ll give it to him tonight.”
Ian walked over and took the machine from her, tucking it under his arm. “Well done, Mary. And now, what do we want for lunch?”
“Oh, anything sounds good to me,” she replied.
“How about Chinese?” he asked.
“Anything but that,” she replied.
“Okay, how about Mexican?”
“I don’t know if I want Mexican…”
“Mary, why don’t you decide? It will make my life so much easier.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Ian carried in the bucket of fried chicken and the side items and Mary carried in their soft drinks. She held both drinks in one arm as she struggled with the door lock and finally got it open. Ian brought the bags directly to the kitchen and immediately opened the small box of hot wings. “I’ll never get enough of these,” he said, munching on a wing. “Although I’m a bit surprised they didn’t offer haggis as a side dish.”
Mary put the drinks on the counter and pulled a couple of paper plates from the cabinet. “You’re
kidding me, right?” she asked, with a skeptical look at Ian. “They don’t offer haggis as a side dish at any KFC, not even the ones in Scotland.”
“Oh, aye, they do,” he teased, “It’s right up there on the sign next to the mashed potatoes and the colcannon.”
“Colcannon?”
“You mean to tell me you don’t have colcannon here either?” he said, his smile giving way to a grin.
“You’re a terrible liar, Ian MacDougal,” Mary said with a laugh as she scooped out a serving of the mashed potatoes and cole slaw. “And what, may I ask, is in colcannon?”
“It’s fair delicious, Mary. It’s made from boiled cabbage, carrots, turnips and potatoes, with some butter thrown in for good measure.”
“It sounds a bit like my mother’s Irish stew without the meat,” she replied, taking a bite of her food. “And I don’t think she uses boiled cabbage either.”
Ian scooped out servings of the food onto his own plate. “Well, there’s nothing like the smell of a cabbage boiling,” he said.
Mary wrinkled her nose as she carried her plate over to the table. “Yes, we can agree on that.”
He laughed and followed her over. “And now that we’ve finished discussing food, what are our next steps to help our ghost?”
“Do you have the Yearbook?” Mary asked.
He nodded.
“Well, it can’t be too hard to find a Nickolas in the yearbook,” Mary said. “Let’s see if we can track down the old boyfriend and see what he has to say.”
Ian got up from the table and walked over to the desk. He picked up the Yearbook and brought it back with him to the table. “Let’s start with her class first,” he said.
They started to flip through the pages when Ian, his mouth full of potatoes, stopped their progress by pounding a finger on one of the pictures.
“What is it?” Mary asked.
“Mmmpfh,” Ian replied, trying to clear his mouth.
“Oh, well then, that is serious,” Mary said, smiling at him.
She looked down at the photo. “Ian, that’s a girl. We’re looking for a boy.”