Late Edition

by Fern Michaels

  “Jamie, you’re the best baker in the world, but don’t be offended if I don’t show up too often. Another day like this, and I’ll turn into a diabetic.”

  Jamie gave Toots a hug, thanked her several times for her trust and support, and gave Sophie, Mavis, and Ida hugs as well before they left. Knowing they wouldn’t have an opportunity to do this anytime in the near future, Toots decided to take her friends on a tour of Charleston. She drove through the Battery, down Rainbow Row, and ended at the slave market. She parked the car, and for the next three hours they roamed through the stalls, buying all sorts of silly things. Mavis bought three bottles of hot sauce, telling them hot sauce acted as an appetite suppressant. Sophie bought a deck of tarot cards, and Ida purchased a sleep shirt, a tacky purse, and a silver necklace she knew would turn her neck green within an hour of putting it on. Toots bought nothing. Been there, done that, she thought.

  On the ride home, they were all quiet, each lost in her own thoughts. Sophie had another séance planned for that night. She promised that this time they wouldn’t be disappointed.

  Chapter 19

  As Sophie, Toots, Ida, and Mavis prepared for the evening’s séance, a hint of trepidation filled the air.

  “I’m not sure if we should go through with this. If we’re able to contact spirits, and they have the ability to manipulate the objects around us, I’m afraid something might go horribly wrong,” Ida said as they placed the candles around the table.

  “You’re the one who wanted to make contact with Thomas. This was your idea. I’m just the medium, that’s all,” Sophie said.

  “But what if what he said was true? What if he was really poisoned by something other than tainted meat? Then what?” Ida asked.

  “Then I will call Chris. He won’t laugh at us. He’s seen what’s gone on at the beach house. It’s too bad all that expensive equipment Sophie invested a small fortune in didn’t reveal anything. If it had, we’d have our own TV reality show by now,” Toots said.

  “Are you sure this is safe? I wouldn’t want to open any of those . . . portals you two are always discussing,” Ida said.

  “You read my mind, Ida,” Sophie said. “I called the woman in California who I bought the book from, and I told her our situation. She gave me some advice. In the book it says we have the ability to contact a specific spirit. We need to eliminate the chance that it could harm us. Even if the person was family in life, he or she could be malicious in death. The book has specific instructions on how to make sure that if any spirits come through, they will not be able to harm us.”

  “How do we do that?” Ida asked.

  “In the book, there is a chant we can say to assure that no spirits harm us and only come forth with good intent,” Sophie explained.

  “What is it? Something like ‘Dear dead people, please don’t choke us to death’?” Toots said, laughing.

  “No, it’s nothing like that. It’s whatever we want it to be. Just consider it something like a prayer that protects us from evil and evil actions,” Sophie explained again. She was so serious that the others blinked. This was a different Sophie.

  Ida lit the candle in front of her and placed it in the center of the table. “I’m hesitant to believe that, but the book did work last time, so I’m willing to give it a shot. Maybe this will set my mind at ease.”

  “Sophie, do you think you could add something to the effect of ‘Please don’t mess with my clothing, since I don’t want to ruin any more mourning clothes,’ ” Mavis pleaded.

  “We don’t need to wear mourning clothes this time around,” Sophie told her. “Just remember, this is something I’ve never tried before. Again, you all have to be willing to have the bejesus scared out of you.”

  “You’re so eloquent,” Toots said. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  “Yes, I’m sure, or at least as sure as one can be given the circumstances. You don’t have to sit here and participate. I’m not going to force you. If you’re chicken, then just leave. Frankly, I think we should expect just about anything. Remember, we are here to contact Thomas. We want to find out who and why and if he was murdered. We might not like what we hear. He could’ve been murdered by someone we know, possibly someone in this room.” Sophie cast an evil eye in Ida’s direction.

  “Don’t even say that!” Ida exclaimed. “As far as I’m concerned, Thomas died of food poisoning. If anything other than that happened, I certainly had no involvement. I can’t believe you would even think such a thing, let alone say it.”

  “I know you didn’t kill Thomas. I just think we need to get ahold of our emotions until we’re finished. No matter how upsetting it can get, we need to hold ourselves together so we can find out the truth,” Sophie said seriously.

  Mavis walked around the room, checking the candles, closing the drapes, and making sure the air conditioner vents were directed away from the table. “Okay, Sophie, it’s set up the same way as before. Are you ready to do this?”

  They each took their usual seats around the table, all traces of their earlier silliness locked away. Though this had started out as fun and games, it had turned into something very serious and possibly very scary.

  “This is something new I’m going to try, so don’t laugh,” Sophie said. “In order to communicate with Thomas in a way we can understand him, the book says we should use a method known as psychic writing.”

  “What the hell is psychic writing?” Toots asked.

  “Well, it’s where a loved one of the deceased concentrates and thinks of the person she wishes to communicate with while holding a pencil and scribbling in circles on a piece of paper. The book says that if the spirit comes through, it has the ability to manipulate the writing and get its message across. Ida, that means you’re going to have to do this. Are you up for this?”

  “Yes I’m up for it, but I’m hesitant to think that it will work. What am I supposed to write so that the spirit will guide my hand and deliver a message?” Ida asked.

  “You don’t write anything at all. You just need to concentrate and scribble in circles. The spirit will channel his or her energy into you, and it’s supposed to trigger your subconscious into writing the message. We just need a pad of paper and a pencil. The book says that the graphite in the pencil helps energy flow through you and allows the spirit to communicate in words rather than moving water glasses.”

  “This might sound crazy, but it just might work. I have a leather binder that belonged to Thomas. He took it everywhere with him on his business trips. I even think there’s some old paper left in there. If he’s going to come through, that definitely would be the object he would write on. He used to sit in bed at night dictating notes for his secretary to type.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you run upstairs and find that? Then we’ll get started,” Sophie suggested, displaying none of the goofiness and sarcasm involved in her normal way of communicating. This was becoming more important to her. If she could help those on the other side, then she was going to do everything in her power to do just that. Maybe this was her true calling in life. And hadn’t Madame Butterfly told her she had a gift?

  Sophie flipped through her guidebook while waiting for Ida to locate Thomas’s binder. Mavis ran to the kitchen to check on Coco. Toots reclined in her chair, looking as relaxed as a cat sunning herself in the window on a warm day.

  “Here it is.” Worn, aged from years of use, the leather-bound binder still held several sheets of legal paper. Once yellow, these had whitened with age, the paper now brittle and delicate.

  “Is everyone ready to get started?” Sophie looked at Ida, then at Mavis, and lastly at Toots as they returned to the séance room. All three nodded in the affirmative.

  “We need to hold hands. Ida, you just hold Mavis’s hand and keep the pencil in your right hand. When we are finished with our protection prayer, start scribbling in circles and don’t look at the pad no matter what happens,” Sophie instructed.

  Ida reached
for Mavis with her left hand while holding the pencil in her right hand. Sophie reached for Toots’s left hand, while Toots linked her right hand with Mavis’s left hand. Once they were in position, Sophie began her prayer.

  “To our highest power, we ask for your protection from benevolent spirits, and ask St. Michael the Archangel to watch over us and protect us from malevolent spirits who might want to inflict harm upon us. We are here to summon the spirit of Thomas McGullicutty.” Sophie bowed her head as she spoke.

  “Thomas, we received your message, and we know your death is suspicious. We are here tonight to find out what caused your early exit from this earthly realm and sent you into the afterlife before your time.” Sophie began to chant in a whisper, “Please help us help you. Please help us help you.”

  The others caught on quickly and began to chant. “Please help us help you.” They repeated this several times. Ida’s hand poised on the paper, she began to scribble, her eyes closed.

  “Thomas, if you have a message for us, please come forward,” Sophie said in a soft voice. So out of character was her behavior that Toots opened her eyes just to make sure it was really Sophie speaking in such soft, melodic tones. It was.

  Sophie continued to request that Thomas make an appearance. “You’ve appeared to us before. You must have a reason now. You can reveal the cause of your death. Tell us now so we may be able to find justice for you and you can have peace.”

  Toots peeked at Sophie again. She was into this. Big-time. And it was scary. Big-time.

  “Oh my gosh!” Ida cried, scaring them all. “I feel like . . . like someone has plugged me into an electrical outlet!”

  In a low, almost seductive tone, Sophie said, “Focus, Ida. Focus on Thomas. Keep your mind open.”

  Ida nodded. “I feel some type of supernatural energy rushing through me.” Continuing to keep her eyes closed, she scribbled in circles.

  “Continue to think about Thomas,” Sophie encouraged.

  Ida’s hand went wild across the paper. She was writing so fast, Sophie was afraid she might be pretending just for show. Then she saw the terror on her friend’s face and realized that not only was Ida afraid, but she no longer had control of her hand. That was beyond anything she’d expected.

  Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped at least twenty degrees. Someone not of this world was definitely in the room with them. Sophie opened her eyes and scanned the room. Though she couldn’t actually see anything, she could feel a spirit. It was an unhappy spirit.

  Ida suddenly began to write in a precise motion. Left to right. Left to right. Sophie peered at the paper. The words It’s Thomas were slashed across the page at least a dozen times, if not more. She took a deep breath. This is truly serious, she thought. Okay, I can do this.

  “Thomas, thank you for making yourself known. We know your death was unexpected. Is there something you want to tell Ida?” Sophie paused, waiting for a response.

  Ida’s writing slowed; then suddenly she began to write so fast, the sharp edge of the pencil tore the page. Not wanting to lose a word, Sophie quickly slipped a fresh sheet of paper in place of the tattered one.

  In a quick fluid motion Ida started writing again. My Daughter. My Daughter. My Daughter. Over and over, Ida continued to write these words.

  “Thomas, do you know who poisoned you?” Sophie asked. She peered at the sheet of paper. Ida was still writing the words My Daughter. My Daughter. My Daughter.

  Quietly, so low they could barely hear her, Ida said, “I can feel the energy leaving my body. Ask. Him. Who. Killed. Him.” Ida spoke each word as though it were painful, as if she were struggling to speak.

  Sophie caught Toots’s attention. She mouthed, “We need to stop.”

  Toots nodded in agreement.

  “Thomas, you may leave now. We have your message. We will speak to you again.” She almost said, “We come in peace,” but decided this was too serious for her offbeat humor.

  Ida’s hand went limp, as though the bone had simply liquefied. The pencil fell out of her grasp, rolling to the floor.

  Mavis gasped, jumping out of her chair and knocking over the candle in front of her. Ida went completely limp, falling back into the chair’s cushions. Toots ran around the table, hoping to catch Ida in case she started to fall. Sophie grabbed the papers Ida had written on before they were destroyed.

  Tonight they’d opened a doorway.

  Exactly where it would lead them, they had no clue.

  Chapter 20

  Bernice picked the perfect day to stay home. After Saturday night’s creep show, Toots didn’t want her there. She didn’t want to be responsible for causing her to have a heart attack.

  They’d actually had to use smelling salts to bring Ida out of whatever sort of trance she’d been in. She swore she had no memory of writing, no memory of passing out. Toots wasn’t sure if she believed her or not. What she was sure of was that there was nothing funny about it anymore. It was all too real.

  Toots finished making the first pot of coffee, then stepped outside for a smoke. She and Sophie hadn’t been smoking nearly as much as they normally did, which was probably a good thing. Even though she liked to smoke, she knew it wasn’t healthy. At sixty-five, almost sixty-six, Toots figured quitting at this stage of the game would be nothing more than slow torture.

  “What are you doing up so early?” Sophie asked.

  Toots almost jumped out of her skin. “Damn you! Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again. And for your information, I get up at five every day, sometimes earlier. I’m smoking.”

  “Well don’t be stingy,” Sophie said.

  Toots removed a cigarette from the package and lit it with the tip of her own. She passed the cigarette to Sophie.

  For once, they were quiet, each lost in her own thoughts. The previous night still lingered in the early morning air. It was as if Thomas were still lurking around, just waiting for their next move.

  They sat that way for a few minutes longer; then Toots stood and stretched. “I’m going inside. The coffee is ready.”

  Sophie followed her back to the kitchen. “Pour me a cup, too. Add extra sugar. I need a spurt of energy.”

  Toots dumped the contents of the sugar bowl into Sophie’s cup, thinking it would serve her right for sneaking up on her. She carried both cups to the table. “You think Ida will be okay?” Toots asked. “She really gave me a scare last night.”

  “Me too. I think that physically, she’s fine. I don’t know if this will have a residual effect on her mental status. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to send her back into the land of germs.”

  “I really believe Ida is truly over that now. What do you make of the writing?” There. She’d said what had been bothering her all night. It wasn’t the fact that a spirit had entered her house; she could live with that. It was the fact that Thomas’s ghost, or whatever the heck it was, had said, “My daughter. My daughter. My daughter.”

  Sophie took a deep breath. “I think Thomas went to the grave with a lot of secrets. I feel sorry for Ida, but don’t you dare tell her I said that, or I will kick your saggy butt.”

  “You won’t have to keep that promise,” Ida said as she entered the kitchen. Normally, she wasn’t an early riser, so both Sophie and Toots were surprised to see her up already. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, either. So there.” Ida poured herself a cup of coffee and joined them at the table. “Mavis says she’ll be down later. She’s making arrangements for a small factory to produce her mourning clothes. She’s really cornered the market. I bet Mavis is going to end up being a rich old woman just like we are.”

  “I can’t believe you actually referred to yourself as an old woman,” Sophie said.

  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think like an old woman.”

  “None of us do,” Toots said.

  “You need to quit avoiding the subject. I think we need to talk about what happened last night,” Sophie said.

  “I don’t like yo
u when you’re serious,” Ida said.

  “Me either, but I really want to discuss what happened last night. This isn’t some silly prank, Ida. This is for real. You want to see those papers you scribbled? I have them right here.” Sophie got up and walked over to the counter, where she’d left them before joining Toots for a smoke out on the porch. She placed them on the table, in front of Ida.

  Hesitantly, Ida reached for the papers. She scanned them, then shoved them across the table. “It doesn’t make sense. We never had a daughter.”

  Sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow on the polished wood floors. The scattered red and green throw rugs were faded, their color dull from too many washings. The red cabinets needed a new coat of varnish, too.

  Toots got up to refill their cups. “Anyone want a bowl of Froot Loops?”

  Ida and Sophie declined her offer.

  Toots removed a large box from the pantry, took the milk out of the refrigerator, then grabbed a bowl and spoon, bringing them to the table. “Don’t watch me eat. It makes me nervous.”

  “Whatever,” Sophie remarked before directing her attention back to Ida. “I really think this is something we need to look into. You said Thomas died from eating tainted meat. Did the authorities ever check the source where the meat came from?”

  “Of course they did. It was that nasty butcher shop where they washed old chicken and repacked ground meat.”

  “Who did your grocery shopping?” Toots asked.

  “What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? I bought groceries. Sometimes. I had a housekeeper, Lucy. She would go to the market now and then. We dined out most of the time. With Thomas’s work, it was a requirement. The police asked me all these questions. They were satisfied with the answers. As horrid as it sounds, I had an autopsy done on Thomas. His intestines were full of that E. coli bacteria. He’d been sick for about a week. He’d just returned from a business trip. I can’t remember where, but at first he thought he had the flu. Then he remembered he’d eaten that steak right before going away on his last business trip. Why would anyone want to do away with Thomas? He was a bit dull, but he was a very good husband and an excellent provider. Thomas didn’t have a lot of friends, at least none that I know of, but he was very well respected in the medical community. You’re making too much of this.”