A Watch of Weeping Angels
Devecheaux Antiques and Haunted Things
Book Three
By M.L. Bullock and A.E. Chewning
Text copyright © 2021 Monica L. Bullock
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter One—Aggie
Chapter Two—Detra Ann
Chapter Three—Aggie
Chapter Four—Randall
Chapter Five—Henri
Chapter Six—Aggie
Chapter Seven—Aggie
Chapter Eight—Henri
Chapter Nine—Aggie
Chapter Ten—Detra Ann
Chapter Eleven—Henri
Chapter Twelve—Randall
Chapter Thirteen—Aggie
Chapter Fourteen—Aggie
Chapter Fifteen—Sierra
Chapter Sixteen—Aggie
Epilogue—Patrice
Author’s Note—M.L. Bullock
Author’s Note—A. E. Chewning
Chapter One—Aggie
Tugging at my new accessory had become a hard habit to break. These gloves were the only things that kept me from running away from my job and my newfound circle of friends, which had come into my life rather unexpectedly. I wanted to keep them there. Putting the gloves on was now as natural as brushing my teeth in the morning. My new ritual kept me sane amid the chaos of just being me. Who would have thought that a pair of gloves would be my saving grace? They were a part of who I was now. Another weird element to all that was Aggie Kelly.
Detra Ann was sending me on this dreaded task—more like a wild goose chase, something that had become a regular thing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she wanted me out of the shop. I really couldn’t blame her after everything that had happened since I got there. I mean, with the tea set and then the freaky radio…trouble seemed to follow me, especially with this gift of mine. Maybe I was being unfair. Yeah, probably.
This task was a little different, though, and seemed risky, especially for someone like me. Cemetery statuary wasn’t something I wanted, or needed, to hang around. Smoothing out the wrinkle across the top of the glove, I couldn’t help but worry about the minefield I was about to step into.
The old iron gate hung off the rust-covered hinges; it was covered with vines. But for their tight clinging, the gate would not be standing upright. The green vine roof attempted to wrap the gate that surrounded the property and hid some of what was left of the crumbling old mansion. Unsuspecting travelers casually driving past this hidden gem day after day would never know it was even here. Kind of creepy, like a scene from a B horror movie. Or an A. Definitely an A.
Man, I should have dragged Patrice along.
Bricks lined up in a semicircle led me to a portico that had seen better days. Cracks ran up the side of the off-white stucco walls, and the same vines that held the old iron gate together worked their magic here too. The old mansion surely would have fallen to the ground by now if it weren’t for the protection of the vines and the years of paint that clung to it like glue. Like a rotten ancient mausoleum. I shivered at the appalling scenery.
What have you gotten me into now, Boss Lady?
Staring up at the mansion, I couldn’t help but feel I must have done something terrible in a previous life. Why else would Detra Ann send me to this ticking time bomb?
Before I had a chance to really examine that possibility, the cherry on top of this nightmare sundae appeared. The old man stood in front of my car, glaring in at me. His steel blue eyes, cloudy from the years, met mine. He smiled, and it was not soothing at all. Mr. Glass looked at me like a leering old vulture. With that scrawny neck and the strange red coloring of his skin, that was an apropos comparison.
Everything inside of me screamed, “Get in the car! Put it in reverse and get out of here as fast as possible!” But that would not be professional, would it? Nevertheless, nothing about him seemed warm or inviting. I was so glad that I sent a text to Phoenix with the address and a message that if he didn’t hear from me within the hour to call 911. He sent back an LOL, but I made sure he knew I was serious.
Reluctantly quelling my desire to make a dash for the car, I extended my hand to the old guy. “Good morning, Mr. Glass. I’m Aggie. Detra Ann sent me to have a look at the statuary you spoke to Henri about.”
Mr. Glass refused my handshake by sticking his aged hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. The smell of some type of oil lingered around him. Motor oil? “Yeah, I guess you’ll do. At least you’re easy on the eyes,” he grunted. “I’ve been waiting here for thirty minutes.” This was not going well already.
“Yes, I almost couldn’t find the place. My apologies.”
Looking me over and letting his eyes linger on my breasts, he said in a rough voice, “Let’s get on with it. I haven’t got all day.”
“Okay. I’ll follow you,” I replied, sticking my hands in my well-worn sweatshirt. To my relief, we traveled around the creepy old mansion and into an unusually well-kept garden area. It certainly didn’t match the run-down appearance of the house. Who would keep a garden up but not a mansion? There was no historic preservationist living here, that was for sure. Garden enthusiast, yes. Restoration guru? Very unlikely.
I wondered what priceless art and artifacts clung to life within the crumbling walls and if old Mr. Glass would even consider letting me see them. Curiosity was going to kill this cat if I wasn’t careful.
Get a grip, Aggie. One thing at a time.
Mr. Glass tugged at the old wooden doors, breaking them free from the ivy that had started to encase them. He pulled an old brick from the ground and propped one side open, shedding some light on the space.
“Here they are. Come have a look-see. I know the Devecheauxs said they couldn’t take them all, but as you can see, there’s plenty to choose from.” His lips parted into an unattractive smile made worse by exposing pockets of missing teeth. Glass resembled a badly carved jack-o’-lantern. “Take your pick. You’ll see that it’s an excellent collection. Nothing like it anywhere around these parts.”
Rows and rows of headstones and statuary filled the musty old warehouse. Some were covered with moss and others cracked and chipped. Intricately carved statues stood guard, like the terracotta warriors of Qin Shi Huang, the first Emperor of China. Their stone features were hidden in the dark shadows. I was immediately enchanted. Running my gloved hand across the lettering on one of the stones, I asked, “How long have you had all of these?”
“Like I told your boss, my parents had to remove them. The city wouldn’t let them keep them on the property after they began moving the bodies. These statues have been in the family for well over fifty years,” he said as he licked his cracked lips. “I need to sell them in order to have the rest of the bodies removed. The city decided to renege on the agreement and won’t cover the costs. I can’t sell the old house without removing them. People get awfully jumpy when you tell them there’s bodies buried on the grounds.”
I tried to smile. “I guess they would.” The thought of all the people buried nearby on the property and this old guy having them removed, I suspected unceremoniously, made me want to slap him and knock the rest of his teeth out. I didn’t know what he was doing, but I didn’t feel good about this. I knew Detra Ann and Henri would not approve of his little plan.
“Do you want to take one or not?” he huffed. “Can’t stand here all day gawking at them. Although,” he said, dropping his voice to a purr, “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with a pretty lit
tle thing like yourself somewhere else.” He stepped closer to me and pawed at my shoulder playfully.
I took a step back. “I have to go.” I backed away further, forcing his hand away. “I’m afraid the two of us hanging out is not going to happen today or any other day. Try touching me again, and you might join the other bodies buried here.”
“I guess you just can’t take a little playing around.” He winked as he dug a pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket and began flicking his lighter. “Suit yourself, but you’d be hard-pressed to put me in the ground. I’m a vet, little girl. I’ve seen plenty of action.” He huffed as he patted his jacket pocket again. “I can protect myself.”
Wait, did he have a gun? What a creep!
“There are people who know I’m out here, and if you want to sell these items, I suggest you just give me a minute. Alone,” I insisted through clenched teeth. I couldn’t spend one more minute with this guy. A row of decrepit angels watched us. Did I see one move? What was that?
“Make it quick,” he replied, walking out of the warehouse toward the mansion.
Finally. My hand uncurled from the fist I had unconsciously made. The nerve of that weirdo. Okay, Aggie. Get it together. You’ve got a job to do. Get it done and leave!
Most of the statues were just too big to carry in my little car. As much as I wanted to take them all from this horrible man, there was no way. We would, unfortunately, have to take more than one trip to free these precious memorials from the grasp of such a revolting creature. His irreverence was mind-boggling. Obviously, his parents taught him to view these items as a mere nuisance and nothing more.
My heart sank as I scanned the room. I began snapping photos. There was a palpable heaviness in the darkness. Even with the door propped open, no amount of light could dispel the sadness within these walls. Out of my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of a small cherub statue lying on its side. It was small enough to put in my car and carry, perfect for me to take back to the shop.
The little cherub was solitary; no headstone seemed to go with it, although the roughness of the underbelly seemed to indicate that the statue had been attached to something at one point in time. I’d have to come back with Henri or Phoenix to do any further investigation. I’d been there long enough by myself with old man Glass. The thought did cross my mind that I could take him, but I had a feeling he had more secrets hidden on these grounds and would protect them at any cost. I was sure whatever weapon I had couldn’t match a bullet.
My gloves protected me nicely and would allow me to detect where this little angel came from. I had no vision when I touched it, no labored breathing. Nothing. Thank God for small favors. Who knew a little piece of fabric could save me from a world of trouble? With the angel in my grasp and a collection of photos on my phone, I left Mr. Glass’ place without so much as a goodbye.
I couldn’t get that rotting mansion in my rearview mirror quick enough. Detra Ann would be getting an earful from me as soon as I got back to the shop. I hoped she would be happy with my choice. There was just something about the sad little cherub. I couldn’t leave it unprotected in that awful place with Mr. Grabby Hands.
I can’t say why but I arranged it in the seat next to me like it was a small child. An unexpected tear rolled down my cheek as I sped down the drive and onto the road that would lead me back to the store.
What just happened? I wasn’t seeing anything, but I had all kinds of feels.
Disgust. Revulsion. Anger. Sadness.
Mostly sadness, and this time it was not my own.
Time to get out of here.
Chapter Two—Detra Ann
“How many more are there?” I asked Aggie as I investigated her find. “This baby is certainly heavy and old. Look at the wear on this little angel. Oh, the stories he could tell, right?”
To my surprise, Aggie frowned. “No doubt. I didn’t count them all, but if I had to guestimate, I’d say hundreds.” She shook her head, which today was platinum blonde. I understood her obvious disgust. I didn’t really want to work with this client either, but the idea of someone else handling these precious items did not appeal to me. At least we’d try to find them good homes.
And how are we going to do that, Miss Smarty Pants? I wasn’t sure but it was heartbreaking.
“Guestimate? Is that something they teach at the University of South Alabama?” I laughed as I put the angel on the counter.
She rolled her eyes and smiled. “Yeah, it’s like a guess and then an estimate. Only jammed together,” she said, pressing her hands together for visual effect. “You know, Mr. Glass had a warehouse chock-full of things like this. Do you think we could sell any of them? Or here’s my real question, should we sell them?”
“You’ve met Mr. Glass. Would you like to leave these in his hands?”
Aggie offered another disgusted expression. “No, he has too many hands for my liking. It was rough out there, okay. Please don’t send me back. I got the feeling that he’d like to add me to his collection.”
I looked up from snapping photos of the statue. “What happened, Aggie? Was he inappropriate with you?” The Mama Bear came out of me quick, fast and in a hurry.
“Let’s just say Mr. Glass shouldn’t be flirting with people half his age. He was unnerving to say the least. Something about him just made me want to go home and take a shower. Yeah, that’s it. He’s the kind of guy that makes you feel like you need to wash your hands frequently, just from being there. Mr. Glass was a crayon short of a full box. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had other secrets buried out in that warehouse.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I’d certainly participated in my share of digging up bones—and secrets. And things that were better left undisturbed.
“I don’t need that visual, but my friend Anna’s father was like that. Let’s change subjects before I lose my breakfast. No more going alone out there. If Harry asks, you tell him I said so. How are the pictures? Did you get some good shots of the other statues?”
Aggie’s bright smile vanished. “Yeah, I think so. There’s no denying that they are beautiful. It’s just sad to think that those people have no headstones, no statues, and in a hundred years, no one will know what happened to them. Their history, their lives will be lost forever.”
I hugged her, even though I normally wasn’t much of a hugger. “Well, we won’t let that happen. If we can get them away from old man Glass.”
“Then we definitely need to get them. Do you have any idea how we could do that? Please tell me you have something up your sleeve, Boss Lady. You always seem to be two steps ahead of the rest of us.”
“That’s bull, but thanks for the compliment.” I touched the little cherub and began to examine it closely. “This looks like it has been broken off from something larger. Please tell me that’s not the case.” I wasn’t really asking her, more like making an observation.
“That’s what I thought too, but I didn’t spend too much time touching it,” Aggie replied as she held up her gloved hands. “I didn’t want to get too close to it just yet. You know, come to think of it, I should really get hazard pay for this job.”
“We will consider it.” I chuckled as I twisted the little cherub around, but its soft features and elegant smile faded as I stared at it. Was it me? What was going on? Everything had a hazy finish to it. Wow, that was an odd sensation. I let out a moan as I put the thing back down.
“What is it? Detra Ann? What’s happening?”
“Not sure except I’m not feeling too hot. Yikes, I think you’re rubbing off on me, Aggie. Get this thing away from me. Would you mind moving it, please?”
Aggie did as I asked, I know she was wary too because she still had her gloves on. “Are you coming down with something, Detra Ann?”
“It feels like morning sickness, but that’s not possible. I think it’s this funeral piece. I swear, I haven’t felt this ill in a long time. I want to upchuck.”
Wow. Talk about strange juju.
Barely staying upright, I did my best to put on a happy face. “Probably just something I ate. You know what, I think I need to go home. At least for a little while. Keep me posted on what you find out about the statuary. Okay?”
“Okay, Boss Lady, you got it. Just get some rest. I’ll let you know what I find.”
I reached behind the counter and grabbed my purse and keys. Henri didn’t like me to leave my purse behind my counter where someone could snatch it, but I never listened. Today I was glad he wasn’t here to scold me. I’d surely upchuck on him. No way was I pregnant. In fact, my monthly was making me sick, but not like this. What I felt in the store just a minute ago was revulsion, pure and simple.
But I wasn’t going to run away. That’s not how I did things. I was Detra Ann Devecheaux, former beauty queen and Miss Mobile County. Mr. Glass had some explaining to do—I needed some information, and he needed to give up the secrets before this thing got any further. I couldn’t imagine what had happened in this location for that item to make me sick. I didn’t work with telemetry. I wasn’t even a psychic. But I was sensitive, and I knew from experience that sometimes gifts changed and shifted. And I always trusted in my own intuition.
My intuition was telling me that Mr. Glass wasn’t on the up-and-up.
How could we in good conscience sell these items knowing that it might make someone else sick? What if another sensitive bought one of the statues? What if…
And that’s when a black dog ran out in front of me. Oh, that wasn’t good at all! I slammed on the brakes and honked at the animal to encourage it to get out of the road. That’s all I needed today. A dead dog on my conscience.
“Holy crap!” I said to myself as I gripped the steering wheel and waited for the wayward animal to cross the street and get out of harm’s way.
Okay, get a handle on yourself. It was just a dog. You just had a sick feeling. It doesn’t mean anything horrible is going to happen. No sense in getting all superstitious.
I knew exactly where Mr. Glass lived because I was the one who sent Aggie to the location to begin with. I needed to go there myself and make my own inspection. I didn’t tell anyone where I was going because I knew they—specifically, my husband—would try and talk me out of it. Henri certainly would. He was always treating me like I was a porcelain doll. I’d scolded him about that a few times, but it was an exercise in futility.
A Watch of Weeping Angels (Devecheaux Antiques & Haunted Things Book 3) Page 1