Dead Roots

by Nancy J. Cohen

She skirted a live oak, stumbling over its roots, on her way to a carved stone staircase protected by an overgrowth of needle palms. Careful not to touch the palms’ stiff spines, she edged past through a swarm of tiny insects, around a saw palmetto, and into a clearing.

  She stopped to listen—and frowned. The bell had gone silent. She heard only the whistling of wind through the branches. In the shade, her skin felt cooler, or was it the presence of spirits that chilled the air?

  Something rustled off to her left. She spun in that direction but saw nothing except derelict copper kettles and vines swinging in the breeze.

  A chorus of voices rose from the ruins, dissipating when she strained to hear them. They seemed to come from ahead, where the chimney reached for the sky. It stood as a lone sentinel, guarding the site from intruders. Watching her footing, Marla picked her way forward, careful not to wrench an ankle on the jagged stones in her path.

  A flicker of white registered in the corner of her eye, but when she glanced over, it vanished into thin air. Her heart lurched, and her fingertips grew icy. Someone, or something, was nearby. The voices came again, drawing together into a confluence, emerging as a single sound, a high-pitched wailing. Marla couldn’t make out if it was a natural result of the wind passing through the ruined hollows or not. Her flesh crawled. Finish what you have to do and then get out of here.

  Reaching the chimney, she crouched. The opening at its base looked wide enough for a small person to squeeze inside. With a grimace of distaste, she stretched out to her full length on the ground. So much for her clean clothes.

  Now for a light source.

  Before proceeding further, she withdrew the penlight from her purse and shined it into the interior. A cascade of dust blew onto her face, coating her lips and making her sputter. Wishing she had a handkerchief to use as a mask, she hoped germs weren’t hibernating in the rubble. Stale air made her breathing rapid and shallow, or maybe it was the combination of fear and excitement that pumped her pulse and made her movements jerky. A sense of dread grew within her, making the air seem to thicken and swirl around her head.

  She couldn’t see much from where she was, just soot lining the floor. She’d have to get farther inside. Leaving her bag behind, she dragged herself forward until just her feet stuck out of the opening.

  Her hair hung across her face, and she spared a moment to tuck it behind her ears. When she did so, she was thrown off balance and flung her arm forward to steady herself. Her fingers touched…metal?

  Carefully, she slid the object toward her, feeling its edges. The spade-shaped scoop seemed to be attached to a small wooden handle. “Ouch,” she cried when a splinter pierced her skin. Cursing under her breath, she examined the small shovel. The metal didn’t appear to be rusted.

  Gripping its handle, Marla felt her palm grow warm. The thing almost seemed to vibrate in her grasp. Without thinking about it, she plunged it into the earth. A compulsion took hold of her, and she continued to dig deeper with each shovelful of dirt until the spade struck a solid surface.

  Gritting her teeth against the pain cramping her muscles, she dug a big enough hole to extract a metal container. After brushing dirt off its top, she pried open the rusted lock and gasped at her find: Andrew’s humidor.

  Andrew must have hidden it himself, or else his trusted caretaker had done so at his bequest. Open it…. Open it. The litany rang in her head. Or was it the bell pealing outside with its own—what? Sound of celebration? Warning?

  Ignoring the goose bumps prickling her skin and her throbbing finger where the splinter had penetrated, she removed the top of the humidor. Nestled inside was a waterproof pouch. Joy rose in her heart. It must hold something important. But she needed more light to see it properly.

  Suddenly there was a hard grip on her ankles. Startled, she cried out. Before she could berate herself for letting her guard down, someone dragged her outside.

  “You!” she rasped when she caught sight of who hovered above her. Even as she snapped upright to her defense, he pushed her down, rolled her onto her stomach, and forced her arms behind her back. Duct tape quickly bound her wrists and ankles. Her mouth tasted dirt, but she spat out the words: “You’ll never get away with this, Jeffrey.”

  Her cousin’s husband snickered. “Oh, but I will. I knew if I followed you, you’d lead me to Andrew’s treasure. Let’s see what’s in here.”

  Digging a knee into her spine to restrain her, he grabbed the pouch from her fingers. Marla bent her neck so she could see. He withdrew a small leather sack and packet of bound documents.

  “Dear me, which shall I open first?” Pulling apart the drawstrings on the smaller receptacle, he peeked inside and yelped in horror. “There’s nothing here. Witch, what did you do with the gems?” Bending forward, he patted her body along intimate contours. She bucked in resistance.

  “I didn’t take anything. Whoever buried this box must’ve emptied the pouch. What do you need money for, anyway? Aren’t you rich from your inheritance?”

  Squirming against his groping fingers, she struggled to loosen the tape binding her wrists. It slid over the slime covering her skin. Twisting onto her back, she scooted away from him against the cold stone wall of the chimney.

  He regarded her with a leer. “My mother is the toothpaste heiress. After she dies, my sister and I will inherit, unless our cousin convinces Mother otherwise. His family was always suspicious of dear old Daddy.”

  Marla bent her knees to give herself more leverage. “I don’t understand,” she said, hoping to keep him talking until Vail arrived. If she screamed, Jeff might gag her and then she’d lose her chance to alert Vail.

  “Polly didn’t tell you? She never divorced Vincent. After he ran off, he assumed another identity and ended up marrying my mother. He died of pneumonia before my sister’s second birthday. I found out who he was years later when a detective came around.”

  “That detective looked for Vincent for ages.”

  Jeff’s eyes hardened. “I realized my sister and I might lose our inheritance if the truth got out. So I paid the detective to tell Polly that Vincent had died, without mentioning us.”

  “Why did you marry Lori, then?”

  He swiped a hand over his face as though he could erase years of uncertainty. “I didn’t know what the detective’s report said, so I courted Lori to get close to your aunt When I met Polly, we got to talking about traumatic past events. She mentioned letters she had written to a man she’d once loved. She’d hidden them at the resort. I determined to find them, because if my cousin ever hired an investigator, those letters would destroy my father’s reputation.”

  Marla kept working the bonds behind her back. “So you’ve been searching for them during your visits to the hotel. I presume you employed Brownie to spy for you. Does she know who you are?”

  “Not at all. I convinced her that Polly had hidden something valuable on the property. Dearest Brittany easily succumbs to flattery. She’s an easy mark, unlike you,” he sneered.

  “Did she search my room?” Marla inserted hastily, to distract him from evil thoughts. “I smelled lilacs, and I know she likes that scent.”

  “Brownie looked in your room as well as your aunt’s, because I didn’t know how much the old lady had told you. I was afraid Polly would use this reunion to air old grievances. Time to get rid of her to end the threat.”

  Marla pushed herself upright. “You mean Wanda Beake didn’t pretend to be a nurse’s aide in order to kill her?”

  “I don’t know anything about that. Brownie told me about the secret passages. She’d seen Butler use them. It was easy for me to get into Polly’s bedroom that night. She couldn’t see me well enough in the dim light. I pretended I was you, giving her a drink of water. Brownie had noticed the medicine bottle, so I added a bit to her glass. A pillow over her face did the rest.”

  He picked up the spade, weighing it in his hand. Marla didn’t like the gleam in his eyes.

  “So you murdered Polly. What ab
out the groundskeeper?” Seto had been killed with a blunt instrument. It looked as though Jeff had the same thing in mind for her. While they talked, she’d loosened her binding enough to slip a hand free. Scrabbling around in the dirt, her fingers closed around a sizable rock.

  “Mulch recognized me the first time I showed up at the resort. He said I resembled my father. I convinced him that telling Polly would only hurt her.”

  “So why did you decide to do away with him?”

  “After she died, Seto had no reason to keep silent. He became a liability. You see, the detective fully reported on my father’s second family, and the report came to Mulch. It was Mulch’s decision to tell Polly only that Vincent had died. He saw no reason to deepen her wounds. Now you’re the only threat left. I figured Polly had confided in you, and that you might lead me to her letters.” He lifted the document pouch from the humidor. “Guess I was right, huh?”

  Marla didn’t contradict him. Her glance slid to her purse lying a short distance away. “Did you push me into the boiling pit?”

  He nodded. “I’d hoped to scare you off from asking so many annoying questions. Now you’ve forced me to take more drastic measures.”

  He lifted the tool, but before he could swing his arm in a downward arc, Marla shoved her feet into his stomach. Grunting, he fell backward. She threw the rock at his head, making contact, then scrambled to her feet. But her bound ankles made it impossible to hobble far.

  An insistent tune played from within a bunch of crotons. Her cell phone. Vail must be trying to reach her.

  Marla screamed as Jeff jerked her ankles out from under her, causing her to tumble to the ground. She scratched his face, which only enraged him. Straddling her, he caught her wrists with one hand and raised her arms above her head. With a snarl, he reached for her throat with his other hand.

  She tried to twist her neck away, but his fingers gouged into her flesh, pressing deeply, cutting off her air.

  Spots flew in front of her eyes.

  Her lungs burned, but she couldn’t drag in a breath.

  Strength bled from her limbs while her vision tunneled.

  Barely aware, she caught sight of an apparition, perhaps an angel coming to claim her. The woman wore a long white dress and stood, sort of floating, beyond Jeff s shoulder. Light radiated around her golden hair.

  Jeff glanced up, startled, as though he’d seen it also. His grip loosened.

  Marla jabbed her knee into his groin. He howled in agony and released her.

  Rolling to her side, she managed to crawl a few paces before Jeff shot out his hand to impede her.

  Shouts reached her ears, one of them achingly familiar.

  “You’d better let me go,” she said in a raspy voice. “Dalton won’t take kindly to seeing your hands on me. He won’t be alone, either. You’ll be outnumbered.”

  They stared at each other for a brief instant, then Jeff nodded. Wincing as he straightened his lanky form, he pivoted and raced toward the stone archway.

  Marla watched his retreating figure while she gasped for breath and her heart slowed to a steady beat. Through the overhanging branches, she saw the sun expand. Or was it the sun? The bright light contracted sharply, coalescing into a ball suspended directly in Jeff’s path. He gave a bloodcurdling shriek and disappeared behind the trees.

  The air crackled with energy. Marla felt a chill envelop her. Something brushed her cheek, and then the moment passed. The birdsong that had hushed rang out again, and Vail was suddenly crouching beside her, while the forest erupted with uniformed police.

  “I can’t believe Jeff fell into the well and was killed.” Marla stood beside Vail on the pool deck, where a band was gearing up for the evening dance party. Surrounded by her relatives along with members of the ghost-hunting team, they were bringing everyone up-to-date on recent events. “I’d been by there earlier, and it had a barrier around it.”

  “Rotten wood,” Vail said. “Maybe you dislodged a section when you passed the area and didn’t realize it.”

  “Tell me again about the orb you saw,” Spector said, his eyes round like the globes that lit the grounds at night.

  Marla glanced at the eager faces turned their way. “Alyssa saved me. I saw her before she lured Jeff away.” And I think Polly was present as well, making sure I was safe.

  She lowered her head, moisture tipping her lashes. Poor Polly had no children to mourn her. Her aunt’s smiling face popped into her mind, gazing fondly at Marla. Somehow that image brought comfort to her heart. It also brought a startling revelation. Maybe Polly had joined Seto at his favorite haunt, her spirit finally accepting his love.

  The past merged with the present, and she sensed that Alyssa’s ghost had also been appeased. Perhaps now that Polly had found her true love, her ancestor could rest as well?

  “I thought you didn’t believe in spooks.” Vail grasped her hand. He’d been hovering close ever since he’d found her that afternoon. Some things were more precious than treasure, she thought, squeezing his palm.

  “Let’s just say I’m willing to believe in things that are not readily explained,” she said, smiling. “I don’t think the spirits will bother people anymore. We’ve exposed Andrew’s secrets and ended Butler’s abuse of the resort. Now the ghosts can go to their rest.”

  “Butler has been taken into custody for running a smuggling operation, but not for murder,” Vail told the crowd. “Too bad no one can prove anything about the work-related incidents.”

  “You said the manager had been boating in illegal aliens that he hid on the thirteenth floor?” Cynthia asked.

  “No, he secured them in Oleander Hall,” Marla replied to her cousin. “I gather he was too spooked by the ghosts in Andrew’s domain. Dalton and I took a peek at the speakeasy. There’s a beautiful bar up there. It’ll make a great lounge once the hotel is refurbished.”

  “I can’t believe Grandfather was a bootlegger.”

  Marla didn’t tell them about the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter emanating from the Prohibition-era hideout. Residual hauntings weren’t harmful, and the creepiness would only add to the resort’s ambience. She’d still like to thoroughly examine the hidden level, but it would be difficult until proper lighting was restored.

  “Butler was quite clever,” Vail said. Marla gave him an indulgent smile. The cop in him just couldn’t help commenting on the criminal mind. “He’d learned about the passages from the original blueprints and converted the tunnels to his own use. The manager was involved in more than transporting illegal aliens, however. He’ll also have a charge of human trafficking brought against him.”

  “What’s that?” Cynthia asked, her eyes wide with curiosity.

  Letting go of Marla’s hand, Vail hunched his shoulders. ‘Traffickers bring in thousands of people to the States each year, and Florida is one of the top three destinations, thanks to all our waterways. These foreigners are forced to work on farms, in factories and brothels. Runaways and the homeless are potential victims, too. It’s a form of modern-day slave labor.”

  “Tell them about debt bondage,” Marla suggested, knowing Vail got his kicks from discussing bad guys.

  “Butler’s men were charged one thousand dollars each for transportation. This debt supposedly is deducted from their weekly pay, along with food, housing, and supplies. Meanwhile, they live in substandard dormitories, have no medical care, and no access to the outside. They’re kept under control with guns and physical force. Under these conditions, it takes the workers years to get free.”

  “What did Butler do with a continual influx of people, then?” Cynthia persisted. “I know you followed him to some farm, but he couldn’t use all those workers at just one place.”

  “They got shipped to other citrus groves, strawberry farms, or labor camps up north. We’ve uprooted the entire network.”

  “I’ll bet you didn’t expect such excitement at our family reunion,” Marla said. “I’m just sorry Aunt Polly had to die.”

&
nbsp; “May she rest in peace,” Anita added. “We need to say kaddish for her. When will we be able to…plan the memorial service?” Marla’s mother addressed her question to Vail.

  “It’ll probably be a few more days yet until the toxicology report comes back.”

  “I can start cleaning out her apartment,” Marla said. Sadness tinged her voice. “You know, I think she had a premonition. Aunt Polly wanted to find the treasure so she could buy back the resort and leave it as her legacy.”

  She’d already explained to her family about Polly’s marriage to Vincent and about finding her wedding dress, letters, and will. No one begrudged her being the woman’s heir. She’d been more like a daughter to her than a niece, after all.

  “Aunt Polly kept returning to Sugar Crest to search for the alexandrite stones,” Marla went on. “She made Seto promise not to expose the manager’s operation when she found out about it. She’d planned to right his wrongs when she bought the place.”

  “Marla suspected at one point that your family might retain part ownership of the upper floors,” Vail offered. “That would have prevented a sale to the theme-park developers. It seemed a viable motive to get Polly out of the way, assuming she was the only one who knew about it.”

  “That didn’t turn out to be the case,” Marla said, sniffing the jasmine-scented breeze.

  Anita addressed her. “I don’t understand why Papa’s possessions are still in the tower. How come Mama didn’t sell his stuff? And after she died, why didn’t the hotel owners clean out those rooms?”

  “Well, now, you know the documents that were in the humidor? Ruth’s will left her personal goods, including the furniture, to Polly. According to a copy of the real bill of sale that we found for the resort property, the family doesn’t own the two top floors, but Ruth and her surviving children have the right to reside there as long as they live.”

  “Remember,” Vail said, “Butler would not have needed to dispose of Polly for this reason, even if she was the only one who knew about that provision. He was in favor of the hotel being restored, so he could continue his smuggling operation. When Polly got wind of his activities, that’s when she became a threat. But she didn’t want to ruin the resort’s reputation before she could afford to buy it back, so she kept silent.”