Murder Beach

by Rena Leith

  Thoris was ready and sat in a corner of the room. Most of the participants didn’t know about our secret weapon. She’d be inhabiting Thor until she manifested. We wanted a few people to know so that they could calm anyone who freaked out, but we also wanted some genuine surprise. Marcy was bound to be suspicious. I was shaky and trying to remember to breathe deeply. So much was riding on this. I wanted justice for Alan, Sara, Samantha, and Mia. I also wanted to avoid being stabbed in the dark by Marcy. There was a reason I put ambient light in the corners of the room. I had pepper spray in my pocket.

  The doorbell rang, and I nearly peed my pants. Gillian would be letting people in downstairs and directing them up here. Deep breath. Deep breath.

  Sara’s head came up through the loft entrance. She paused and looked around. “Very nice.” Then she came all the way up.

  “Thanks for doing this, Sara.”

  “I want to know the truth.”

  “No matter what happens, just let it happen. Oh, by the way, I’ll be recording the séance so that we can replay it and discuss it afterward. Any problem with that?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Have a seat anywhere in the circle. There’s a bottle of water next to each seat if you need it.”

  Sara smiled but continued to stand next to me.

  I heard a knock followed by Dave’s deep voice. Then I heard Marcy’s strong voice greeting Dave. That was it. They were all here, and we would begin soon.

  Marcy’s laugh preceded her up the stairs. She hoisted herself up through the opening and turned to Dave. “Need a hand?”

  “Nope. I’m fine.”

  “Take your places anywhere in the circle,” I said. “By the way, I’ll be recording the séance so that we can all review it and discuss it later.”

  “Cool.” Dave sat down near the window, folding himself gracefully onto the large red satin pillow.

  Marcy plopped down on the green corduroy beanbag next to him. She didn’t give explicit consent, but she also hadn’t objected to being recorded.

  Dave said, “I’m glad you’re restarting this tradition.”

  Jack and Gillian came up through the opening. Marcy patted the cushion next to her and looked at Sara. With a quick glance at me that I was sure Marcy saw, Sara walked slowly over to Marcy and sat down next to her. I sat next to Sara on her other side and saw the frown on Marcy’s face. Jack sat next to me followed by Gillian on his other side. I used the remote to lower the lights as Gillian lit the remaining candles inside the circle.

  “I think we’re ready to begin. Turn off your cell phones. Does anyone need to use the bathroom? No? Okay.” I’d read up on séances and had a long, oblique talk with Dave about what went on at those earlier séances. My thinking was that I wanted to make Marcy’s experience here as familiar as I could until she was relaxed. I kept my voice low and mellow. “We must all have open minds and welcoming hearts. We want our compatriots no longer in the flesh to feel at home and communicate with us. Let your every day worries fade away and focus on breaking down barriers and preconceptions.” I paused and waited for the rustling of shifting bodies to settle down. “Please remember that we are unlikely to get clear answers to our questions. You may only get a feeling.”

  Gillian leaned forward and lit the sandalwood incense.

  “You may get an impression. I hope we experience a physical manifestation, but we are here to support one another. We are sitting close together so that we may use the Ouija board. Sometimes yes or no questions are the best way to get clear answers.”

  Some people shifted so that they would be able to reach the planchette.

  “I’m not a medium, but I have some sensitivity to the spirits.”

  Marcy and Dave shifted.

  “I could have hired a professional medium, but I thought inviting a stranger in might be more disruptive. More than anything, we want a warm, supportive atmosphere here. Let’s open with an invitation.” I bowed my head and closed my eyes. “May we all be safe in this circle of friends and like-minded people. May any who have gone before us into the great adventure of the next plane of existence now join us to provide us with their wisdom and knowledge.” I looked up and spread my hands to either side. “Let us now close the circle and connect our energy into a ring of power.”

  Everyone clasped hands around the circle, and a tremor of anticipation passed through the group.

  “Is anyone here?”

  Nothing.

  “Please join us whether you are known to us or not. We welcome you. Is there anyone here who is attached to this house? This place?”

  A breeze passed through the room, the scarves on the lamps moved, and the candle flames flickered, causing the dim light to play across the walls and ceiling. Gasps echoed around the group.

  I nodded. “Thank you for joining us. Do you have a message for someone in this gathering?”

  We heard an audible sigh. As if on cue, Gillian gasped. Then the planchette moved of its own accord to “Yes.”

  “With whom do you wish to communicate?”

  An exhalation of breath from everywhere and nowhere seemed to form the word “you.”

  It was so effective that I jerked, and I felt other tugs on my hands. “Do not break the circle,” I intoned somberly. “What is your message?”

  Another exhalation of breath. And then: “Beware…you…danger…” The words were breathy and indistinct as if it took great effort.

  “What danger?” I said.

  But there was nothing. It was as if all the energy had left the room.

  Marcy said, “I think that’s it.”

  “No, no, wait!” Sara cried. “Alan? Alan? Are you there?”

  Marcy visibly stiffened and hissed. “Sara! No!”

  “Alan?”

  I said, “Alan, if you’re there, please move the planchette.”

  It was as if the room had been reenergized. The planchette moved slowly and jerkily toward “yes.”

  “Oh, Alan. I knew you’d want to contact me.”

  Marcy stood up.

  “No, Marcy! You broke the circle,” Sara cried.

  A wind whipped around the room. The scarves shimmied on the lamps, and two candles went out. Marcy turned toward the circular staircase. We all turned toward her and saw the mist hovering over the opening. Several of us gasped, and Marcy froze where she stood.

  The mist advanced slowly toward her. She backed up, and others scrambled out of the way. The circle was broken, but everyone was transfixed as the mist began to take shape. The wavering figure of a slender man formed.

  “Get away from me! You’re dead!”

  The ghost silently raised an arm and pointed at Marcy.

  “Out of my way!” she cried.

  But the ghost moved toward her.

  She backed up. Dave dodged and Marcy fell over his pillow and landed on her back.

  Now the ghost was hovering over her. “Yo—”

  “This is a trick. You’re using a projection.”

  My heart sank at her skepticism. An unearthly wail came from nowhere and everywhere. The ghost—all pale and white—started to solidify and look a lot more like Alan. Its mouth distended as if its jaw had become unhinged, and it looked as though it might swallow Marcy. She crawled backwards. Then two holes appeared in the ghost’s neck, and red blood dripped from the wounds.

  “Help me!” Marcy cried.

  Everyone backed away from her.

  “We can’t help you unless you tell us the truth,” Jack said. “Did you kill Alan? Is that why he’s after you?”

  “No!” she screamed.

  The ghost stuck a hand through her chest. I knew what that felt like. Her scream was pure terror. “Yes, yes! Help me! Protect me!”

  Jack pulled out a cross and moved toward Alan’s ghost, who wavered back into a less solid form and moved a little distance away from Marcy.

  “Did you attack Samantha?” he asked Marcy.

  “No!”

  Alan’s ghost thickened
and menaced Jack.

  Jack gripped the cross with both hands. “I—I don’t think I can hold him off much longer.”

  “Okay. Okay. It was all self-defense.” Marcy held her hands up in front of her face as if to ward off Alan’s ghost.

  “He’s pressing me hard.” Jack twisted the cross back and forth as if he were fighting a powerful force.

  “He was threatening me just the way he is now. He was destroying my life. He threatened to take Sara away after I moved back here. I couldn’t let him do that. He was cruel and uncaring to Sara. He didn’t deserve her. Sara!”

  Sara was crying softly.

  “Let me go to her,” Marcy said. “She needs me.”

  “Why Samantha?” Jack asked.

  Marcy snorted. “She attacked me. I was just defending myself.”

  “How did she attack you?”

  “I was righting a wrong and getting rid of someone who threatened Sara.”

  Sara sobbed.

  Marcy tried to push around Jack. “Please let me go to her.”

  Alan’s ghost howled.

  Marcy pulled back. “That little bitch who claimed to be Alan’s daughter. She would have hurt Sara. She would have stolen Sara’s inheritance. I had to set things right.”

  Sara was suddenly silent.

  “I had her in my sights when Samantha walked down the hill and nearly caught me. I lost my chance to get rid of the threat, but I made sure that Samantha would never get in my way again. These people don’t have the right to ruin my plans, my life. I have the right to protect myself and Sara. Sara was stolen from me years ago, but now’s our time. Now we can be together.”

  “Why did you damage this cottage?” Jack asked.

  “Your sister is such a bitch. Sticking her nose in where it doesn’t belong. This place should have been mine.”

  “Alan’s ghost” surged toward Marcy again and I wondered if Marcy had pushed Doris a little too far. Jack looked at me. I nodded. We needed to end this, and I didn’t think we were going to get anything more. There was no weapon to find and I didn’t think Marcy would believe that Alan didn’t know what she’d stabbed him in the neck with. I also didn’t think that any of this was evidence, but it might provide a chink in Marcy’s armor that would help the cops build a case against her.

  Somewhat anticlimactically, I said, “I think this brings our séance to a close. I thank the spirits who have joined us this night. Everyone is now free to go back to their own realms and homes. Thank you all for your participation.”

  Marcy looked at me as though I had a screw loose. Alan’s ghost faded away. I knew she was back in Thor. Jack pocketed his crucifix. Gillian blew out the remainder of the candles and turned up the lights.

  “You are all crazy,” Marcy said. “Sara, come with me.”

  Sara shook her head.

  “Please!” Marcy held out a hand.

  Sara moved further away from her. Marcy’s lips thinned, but she gave up and practically ran down the steps and out into the night. I heard sounds downstairs, and then Ricardo came up the stairs and joined us.

  “Did you get it?”

  Ricardo nodded. “All recorded.”

  Dave stood up. “You do a great séance, Cass.”

  “Glad you liked it.”

  “Invite me any time.” He made his way downstairs and left.

  Gillian went over to Sara, sat down next to her, and talked to her softly. Doris released Thor. She’d done an excellent job studying pictures and videos of Alan so that she could emulate him in wispy, ghostly form. She scared the pants off me, and I knew what was going on.

  “Let’s go downstairs and talk,” I said.

  Gillian went straight to the kitchen for some wine and beer and glasses. I thought something stiffer might be needed. With Marcy and Dave gone, our party consisted of myself, Jack and Gillian, Ricardo, and Sara, with Doris a silent and invisible party. I wondered where Mia was.

  “I should be going, too,” Sara said.

  “How are you doing, Sara?” I asked.

  “I’m not really sure.” She dabbed at her eyes. “I don’t think I really understand. Marcy. She’s always been very kind and gentle with me. I had no idea she loved me like that. She never liked Alan, but I never would have believed that she’d kill him.”

  I looked over her head at Gillian who nodded and handed Sara a glass of wine.

  “Sara, Mia Jamison is most probably your daughter, the one Marcy was talking about. I know this is a shock, and you should really have DNA tests done to confirm it, but we’re as certain as we can be.”

  She was silent a moment and then looked at us with hopeful eyes. “Mia’s my daughter?” Her eyes darted back and forth between me and Gillian. “No, that’s not possible.” Sara looked down at her glass. “Cass, my parents will be arriving very soon.”

  “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, but if I call you when they arrive, will you come over? Please?”

  I only hesitated a moment, knowing she no longer would rely on Marcy. “Sure. Just give me a call.”

  Sara got up and gave me a hug. “Thanks.”

  “What are friends for. Please be careful. We don’t know what Marcy may do.”

  “Thanks.” Then she was gone.

  I turned to Gillian. “I hope that was the right thing to do.”

  “We couldn’t leave her hanging after talking about Alan’s child in the séance. She’s got a lot of stuff to process. Having a daughter will help her get through all the transitions,” Gillian said.

  “If they get along, and that’s a big if. It could lead to a lot more heartbreak if they don’t,” Jack said.

  Ricardo cleared his throat.

  “Oh, sorry, Ricardo. How is Mia dealing with this?”

  “It was more than she could handle. She’s out in the car. She’s confused. I’ll take her home. She needs some time to process all this.”

  I nodded. “Good point. There’s something else. Marcy mentioned trying to hurt Mia when she was talking about attacking Samantha. She said she had Mia ‘in her sights.’ That made me think of a gun. Can you keep Mia with you until we find out what the police are going to do?”

  “I plan to.”

  My cell rang. “Hello? Oh, hi, Samantha. No…I… Yes, absolutely. Next time.” I hung up.

  “What does she need?” Ricardo asked.

  “She called to complain that she wasn’t invited to our séance.”

  Ricardo laughed. “That’s my boss. Mia’s waiting for me. I’m going to take off.”

  “See you later.”

  I called George. “Did you get the video I sent?” I held the phone away from my ear. I think everyone could hear George yelling at me. “Okay.” I hung up and went to the door to let George in.

  The first words out of his mouth were: “You are an idiot.” Then he turned to the rest of the group. “We have surveillance on Mia and Sara and you, Cass. If Marcy makes a move on any of you, we’ll have her.”

  “Sara’s parents are expected any time now.” I pointed out.

  George ground his teeth. “You realize you provoked a possible murderer and only got a video that will probably not be admissible evidence.”

  Before I could say anything, the phone rang.

  “Saved by the bell.” I looked at the readout. “It’s Sara.” I answered. “Hello?”

  “Cass?” The voice was barely a whisper, but I knew it was Sara’s.

  “Hey, Sara. Are they there so soon or is it something else?”

  “They’re here.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m on my way.”

  “Thanks!” she said breathlessly.

  I hung up. “Sara’s parents are at her place already. I need to go provide moral support.”

  “Let me drive you,” George said solemnly. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”

  “Works for me.” I looked at his face set in hard lines. “I think.”

  Chapter 22

 
George dropped me off in front of the house that had high peaked roofs and shake shingle siding in weathered gray. The overcast sky and low marine layer reflected my own concerned thoughts for Sara. The fine mist felt like tears on my cheeks.

  “Sara!” I greeted her with an encouraging smile when she came to the door.

  “Come in and meet my parents.”

  Her house was warm, so I took off my jacket and draped it over her hall bench.

  She led me into her living room. Andrea Peterman was ensconced on the couch among the pink pillow cushions with a delicate saucer in her left hand and a bone china cup halfway to her lips. She was a tiny woman in a beige wool and silk suit with a string of perfect pearls around her neck. The family resemblance was obvious, but where Sara was robust and rounded, her mother was delicate and angular.

  Bob Peterman, by contrast, was dark and square. He looked like a substantial man; he could have been built of bricks. There was nothing soft about him, but he set aside his cup and saucer and rose as I entered the room. Excellent manners.

  Sara’s mother set the cup and saucer down with slow, controlled movements.

  Her father extended his hand. “We understand that you’re Sara’s friend.”

  “That’s right,” I said, shaking his hand. “Cass Peake. I’m pleased to meet you both.”

  “We’re glad to hear it. Sara needs friends.” He looked at her meaningfully.

  Sara cast her gaze downward.

  “Come. Sit down near me.” Andrea patted the couch cushion next to her.

  I had a strong desire to sit somewhere else, but that wouldn’t have helped Sara. I sat where I was told, and Andrea gave me three fingers, which I grasped briefly in a parody of a handshake.

  “I hope the traffic wasn’t bad,” I said.

  “Getting over the hill can be a bit of a trial during tourist season,” Sara’s mother said. “I can’t imagine what Sara sees in this…quaint little town. We think she should move back down where her friends and family are. If there’s a tsunami, surely this place will be wiped off the map.”