The Ghosts of Mystic Springs

by Mona Marple

  “What is it, Troy?” Connie pushes.

  “That’s the murderer.” Troy says, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. “That’s who killed her.”

  “I don’t get it.” Desiree says.

  “It’s a spirit.” Troy says, patient. “I saw them vanish. I didn’t see who it was.”

  “But you…”

  “You see spirits?” Connie asks.

  Troy nods. “It started last year. I ain’t told nobody.”

  “You…” Desiree stutters. She believes in hard facts. She does not believe in spirits. “But, honey, you know that’s not all real. No disrespect, Connie.”

  Connie rolls her eyes.

  “Mamma, I saw what I saw. I can see spirits. I mean, I know that Sage is here, for example.” Troy says, and I grin at the mention of my name. He looks right at me then, gives a coy smile.

  “Well, hello.” I say.

  “Why wouldn’t you tell me?” Desiree asks. “Why wouldn’t you share this?”

  Troy fixes a stern look towards her. “Well, mamma. I guess we both have our secrets.”

  25

  Connie

  “I knew I had a connection with you.” I say, attempting to move past the awkwardness between Troy and Desiree.

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you about it.” Troy admits. “I guessed you’d understand more than anyone else. It’s so confusing.”

  “Has she been to see you?” I ask.

  “Nah.” Troy says with a shake of his head. “She never spoke to me. Didn’t even know who I was.”

  “She was a pretty messed-up girl, ya know. You’re probably better off that way.” Sage says, and the dynamic of someone other than me being able to see and hear my sister is incredible. I’m not sure if I like it. All these years I’ve had her to myself.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He says.

  Desiree has left us to talk, refusing to argue with her son after his mysterious comment about secrets. She drove off, saying she had school work to catch up on. Troy had said nothing more about it, and we hadn’t asked.

  “So, it started last year? How often are you seeing them?” I ask.

  “Not all the time.” Troy says. “I’ve tried to ignore it, kinda hoped it’d go away.”

  “I saw you check the room when you came in here.” Sage says.

  “Yeah, I do that all the time. I mean, I’m not really scared, but I like to know if someone’s around, you know?”

  I nod. “I did the exact same thing for a long time. I saw my first spirit when I was about your age.”

  “It’s mad, isn’t it?” Troy says. “I’ve never spoken to one before, not until today.”

  “Wow, I’m your first. I feel super special.” Sage says with a grin.

  “Well, that’s good.” Troy says, with an apologetic smile. “Connie, when the Sheriff comes, he’s not going to believe me, is he?”

  “Oh.” I say, remembering the blood across Taylor’s face after Lola hit him. “I think he will actually. He’s pretty open-minded.”

  “I wish I’d seen more. I mean, I can’t tell you who the murderer is.”

  “Look, you’ve done everything you can.” I say. “You were really brave contacting the police, especially since nobody knew about your gift.”

  “It doesn’t feel like a gift.” Troy says.

  “I know.” I repeat. “I know it doesn’t at first. And even when you’re used to it, sometimes it’s a real pain. But you can use it for good. And I’m here to help you get your head around it all.”

  “Thanks, Connie.” Troy says.

  I stand up and pull him in for a hug, then release him. “You’re gonna be okay if we head off?”

  “Sure.” He says. “Thanks for the warning. About the Sheriff coming.”

  **

  As we stroll back across town, I see movement at Nettie’s home. A Buick sits idling on the drive while a short man in a suit, holding a briefcase in his hand, stands on the veranda.

  “Can I help?” I call across to him. He turns, mistakes me for the homeowner, and speeds across the lawn towards me, hand outstretched.

  “Mrs Frasier, my absolute pleasure to see you.”

  “I -” I begin, but this man has no time to spare.

  “Can’t stop, awfully busy, please take this.”

  “Excuse me?” I say as he thrusts an envelope in my hand.

  “Consider yourself served. We’ll see you in Court. And, please, have a marvellous day!” He says, then dashes across the lawn and back into his car, where the engine is still running. He has reversed out of the drive before I’ve even had chance to register what’s happened.

  “Why didn’t you tell him you’re not Nettie?” Sage asks.

  “Are you serious?” I ask. Sometimes I wonder what planet my sister is from. “You saw what just happened, there was no time.”

  She shrugs. “You should have just told him.”

  “Ugh!” I groan, then glance at the envelope in my hand. Addressed to Mrs D Frasier, as if marriage got rid of her own first name, there’s a return address stamp on the back for a firm of city lawyers.

  “Well, you should open it.” Sage says.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s an offence to open someone else’s mail.”

  “Not when that person is incarcerated.” Sage says, and she may have a point. Even a law dunce like me knows that if something is served on you personally, it’s pretty important. And who else is going to open it for her?

  “Fine.” I say, tearing into the envelope, then glancing around me. “Not out here, though. Let’s go home.”

  **

  Back home, Sage floats next to me as I pull the papers from the thick envelope.

  Legal documents.

  I stare at them for minutes but I can’t make sense of what it means.

  “I have to get an appointment to visit Nettie.” I say.

  Sage nods. “I can’t see Sheriff Bighead agreeing to that.”

  “Sage, he really isn’t that bad. He’s just doing his job.”

  “Whatever.” She says.

  I shake my head. There are days when I think one lifetime is enough to have spent with my sister, and today’s one of those days.

  “What is it anyway?”

  “I don’t know.” I admit.

  “Let me see.” Sage says, and I hand the papers to her. She inspects the front page, then the rest. “Wow. Lawyers earn so much but can’t use simple English. It’s like they design it so you can’t understand it.”

  “I know.” I agree. “Maybe I could ask Adele to help us?”

  Sage pulls a face. “I don’t think so. Remember who she’s married to.”

  “True.” I say. I don’t doubt Adele’s ability to keep things private, but I don’t want to put her in an awkward position.

  “I know.” I say. It’s a longshot, but worth a try. I pick up my cell phone and dial the number. The receptionist answers immediately, despite it being a Sunday - this must be a very expensive city firm, I think. I can picture her, with her sing song voice, sitting in a 25th floor office surrounded by glass, feeling literally on top of the world.

  “Oh, hello. It’s Nettie Frasier here, I’ve been served with papers this morning but I’m struggling to understand them. Can I speak to someone?”

  “Please hold.” The receptionist says. Instead of hold music, I’m connected to an automated message that describes the accolades of the law firm and their staff. Cases won. Articles published. Laws changed. Minutes pass. “Mrs Frasier, forgive the delay? I’ve just logged in to the case system? I think you’re referring to the asset forfeiture application?”

  It’s hard to tell if she’s really asking a question, as all of her sentences end with what sounds like a question mark.

  “It’s the documents served today.”

  “Please hold.” She says, throwing me back into the message of their staggering accomplishments. I don’t need a lawyer and even I’m tempted to hire them. “The case system is showing service of an as
set forfeiture application only? I hope that helps.”

  “Well, no.” I say, conscious of how dull my own voice seems compared to this woman. “I don’t know what the papers mean.”

  “Please hold.” She says, and I groan. “It’s definitely an asset forfeiture application?”

  “I just need to know what that means.”

  “Oh.” The woman says. “You don’t know what it means?”

  “No.” I say, feeling about as stupid as I ever have in my life.

  “It’s an application to have your assets forfeited.” She says, as if that settles it. The sing sing has gone from her voice. “You’ll already be aware of this, Mrs Frasier. It’s clearly explained in the Will.”

  “And what happens then? Where do they go?” I ask.

  “Into Trust, of course, for Mr Frasier?” She sings.

  “Mr Frasier is dead.” I say.

  She laughs. Actually laughs. “For now.”

  **

  Taylor agrees to a meeting when I explain the situation. Urgent mail, personally delivered.

  Nettie is housed in the Jefferson County jail, as I’d guessed. They have a problem with drunks and their cells are always in demand, meaning they’re the only town out of the three of us who keep a police presence available 24/7. Sure, after 6pm it consists of one divorced guy who orders in pizza and shares it with the inmates, but it’s more than Mystic Springs or Rydell Grove have after hours.

  Nettie looks fabulous, of course. In a staggering display of small-town policing, she’s been allowed to keep her belongings in the cell with her, and it turns out her handbag holds a full spare set of make-up. She sits, poised, in a cell and barely reacts when I appear, as if there’s as much chance I’m arriving because of my own arrest as there is me being there to visit her.

  I’ve never spent as much time with her as I have since Lola was killed, so her lack of warm welcome isn’t surprising.

  “Hey.” I say. I’ve been allowed to speak to her from the other side of the bars, and with the desk officer listening in on every word from his desk, where the cold remnants of last night’s pizza remain. “How are you holding up?”

  “Oh, ya know.” She says with a shrug, which isn’t really an answer at all.

  “You’ve got some mail.” I say, handing the envelope through the bars to her. “I opened it, sorry. I didn’t know if they’d let me visit, and I thought it was important.”

  “Let me guess.” She says, without looking at the contents. “Asset forfeiture.”

  I nod frantically. “Yes! You’re expecting it?”

  “No, not exactly. They’re being a little ahead of themselves. I’ve not been convicted.”

  I wait, curious for details.

  She sighs. “If I’m convicted of an offence, everything I inherited from Desmond’s Will goes back into Trust.”

  “Wow.” I say. “I’ve never heard of that before.”

  “Nobody has. But it’s allowed. It’s watertight. He’s like the gift that just keeps on giving.”

  “But who else would he want to have his money?”

  “Nobody.” Nettie says. “He wants it protected for himself.”

  “What?”

  Nettie laughs. “He’s been frozen. He’s convinced he’ll be coming back to life, when the technology’s there. This way, his money will be waiting for him.”

  I shake my head, because I’ve heard some things in my time, but this is mad.

  “His body’s been frozen?”

  She nods. “It’s not that unusual. Lots of people who have the money are doing it.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know.” Nettie says. “I just hope I’m dead before he comes back. I had more than enough of him when he was alive.”

  “We need to make sure you’re not convicted.” I say, feeling a desperate need to fight for this woman who has already been wronged by the man who should have loved and supported her. She deserves a break.

  “Connie.” She says, staring at me. “They found the murder weapon in my garbage. You saw me with it. I have motive. I think we all know the way this is going to go. And.” She takes a deep breath. “They’re going to reopen Desmond’s death. They’ll try to get me for both.”

  I gulp, because I know this is true. I’ve heard Taylor discuss it, and Patton has told me it’s the obvious way forward. Desmond’s own death, never considered to be suspicious at the time it happened, suddenly looks awfully convenient when you factor in Lola’s murder as well.

  Suddenly, Nettie Frasier with her flawless skin and her perfect dress sense, looks like a wife who was trying a little too hard for wedded bliss. When her husband’s head was turned by a young temptress, it was more than she could stand. And they both had to be punished.

  It’s such an enticing story.

  I can see the newspaper headlines now.

  26

  Connie

  The Town Hall is bustling with the crack of anticipation and excitement. Nothing like this has happened before. Nothing like this has been attempted before.

  I look out of the front door towards the full moon and then close the door. Close us in.

  I lock the doors and turn to the packed congregation. Troy meets my eyes, terror upon his face, and I give him as reassuring a smile as I can manage, as I survey the crowds. It’s standing room only.

  I stand nervously on stage, understanding how uncomfortable Desiree must feel when she has to address a crowd.

  She sits beside Troy now, holding his hand. The school staff take up the rest of her row. Mariam is by her other side.

  “Ready?” I ask Violet, who sits on a chair on the stage. She grins at me through a pair of neon orange glasses. I have no idea if the woman needs any help to see or if glasses are just a way of adding yet another colour to her outfit.

  She stands, and slowly the crowd register her movement and begin to hush themselves.

  She raises her arms, hands outstretched, palms upwards.

  “This won’t surprise some of ya.” She says with a cackle, for she is about to reveal a secret she has sheltered her whole life. A secret I had no right to ask her to share. As she moves her arms higher and higher, the audience are rapt, the room is perfectly silent. She begins to chant gently under her breath. The room darkens.

  Sage appears first, confused.

  “Mystic Springs for you tonight, one and all I give you sight.” Violet chants, again and again and again, her voice increasing. A nervous energy travels through the crowd.

  “She’s a witch!” Someone says in a whisper that carries across the room.

  Patton arrives a moment later, by Sage’s side.

  Someone in the audience gasps and points. The people nearby turn to look, some scream but they are hushed by others in the crowd who simply stare, stunned, at the spirits.

  More spirits arrive, until the room is packed.

  Atticus goes to Mariam, who sobs instantly, able to see him for the first time since he passed. She cries so much her whole body shakes. I look away. Tonight, I must think, not feel.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” I call out, spotting Adele and Taylor in the front row with a baby in each of their arms. “We’re here tonight because one of us is a murderer.”

  The crowd gasp. One person tries to get out of the door at the back of the hall, realises its locked, returns to their seat.

  “The only way we can solve this crime is if we are all joined, for one night only. Yes, you can see spirits. Yes, they are real. This is no trick. The spirits mean you no harm. Please, don’t be alarmed.”

  “You said one of us is a murderer!” A voice calls out from the crowd.

  “Yes, I did.” I say. “But not one of you.”

  I press a button on the small remote I have in my hand, and a photograph of Lola Anti appears on the projector screen.

  “Nettie Frasier is currently in custody for the murder of Lola Anti.” I announce. The crowd begin to gossip between themselves. “She didn’t commit that murder. But I know wh
o did.”

  Sage rushes forward and people move out of her way, shield themselves from her. “What are you doing? This is dangerous.”

  But everyone can hear her, and she’s spent too long not being heard. The attention is more than she can handle, and she retreats from the stage, back into the crowd, to hide.

  “I’ve been helped by Patton Davey, our former Sheriff, and Atticus Hornblower, our former Mayor. They’re here now. I was asked to help them investigate, because they needed a living person to interview living people.”

  The crowd all spin in their seats, attempt to pick out Patton and Atticus in the crowd. I gesture towards them both to come up to the stage, and they do, to a round of applause.

  “We miss you!” Someone calls out to them both.

  “I’m trippin’, man.” A college student drawls to the friend who sits beside him as he rubs his eyes to check if this is real.

  “What we didn’t know then.” I continue. “Is that the murderer isn’t amongst the living.”

  The community take in my words and a silence falls, among the living and the spirits.

  “Lola was killed by a spirit. A spirit who couldn’t stand seeing…”

  “You said they mean us no harm.”

  “These spirits don’t.” I say. “The spirit in question isn’t here. That spirit has a power that is too strong for Violet alone. I’ve given you sight, now, so that we can all come together. I need everyone in the room to work together and chant with Violet, to call in the spirits who don’t want to be here.”

  “Why would we call in a spirit who’s dangerous?” Someone calls out.

  “Because we can’t stop what we can’t see.” I say.

  “Join in, it’s nice and easy.” Violet says, returning to her feet. “We command all spirits far and near, command you now to appear.”

  “We command all spirits far and near, command you now to appear.” I join in, trying to ignore the nerves in my stomach. This is our only hope. I just hope it works.