Rest Stop (Peri Jean Mace Ghost Thrillers Book 4)

by Catie Rhodes

  Which explained why he tried to sell her snow globes. I stared again at the wreck of Camden’s car, half listening as Griff thanked DeVoss for his time. Mysti bought several jars of canned goods and a huge jug of honey. I moved along in a dream, waking when DeVoss grabbed my arm.

  “I wanted to thank you for coming out to see me.” He flashed the straight, perfect line of his dentures. “It sure was good to see your pretty face again.”

  “Thank you, Mr. DeVoss.” I tried to smile and hoped it was good enough.

  DeVoss opened the back door of the SUV for me, and I climbed inside, eager to get away from him. Griff and Mysti got inside, and Griff started the engine. He turned, a huge grin splitting his face, to speak to me.

  “Don’t say anything until we get away from here, okay?”

  The look on his face set my nerves on high alert, but I nodded my agreement. The silence in the SUV made the drive back out to the main highway seem to take forever. Finally, we were on the road back to Nazareth.

  “The guy in the picture.” The upper part of Griff’s face appeared in the rearview mirror. “He was the one in your vision, wasn’t he, Peri Jean?”

  “How’d you know?”

  “Girl, you turned the color of oatmeal when you saw it.” Griff sped toward Nazareth.

  “Did you see her knees buckle?” Mysti spoke to Griff. Then she turned to face me. “Good job on getting control of yourself. I thought you were going to lose it right there and spill it all.”

  “Nah,” Griff said. “I knew our girl had it under control.” He pulled into the motel parking lot and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Being as you’re our official medium on this job, let’s hear your theory on what’s happening.”

  “It’s got to be Camden’s ghost,” I said. “Susie talking to the snow globe after her trouble with Coach Bobby John, my seeing him in a vision like that. It all adds up. But I’ve got one problem. I don’t see how he’s getting hold of people who aren’t mediums like me.”

  “I think it’s a good idea we talk to some people who knew Camden before he died,” Griff said. “Let’s see what he was into as a teenager. Hell, he might have had some sort of psychic gift himself.”

  6

  Griff set up an office of sorts in his motel room with his laptop and his cellphone.

  “I’m going to be making phone calls and accessing whatever databases I can on my computer.” He pulled out a legal pad and tore off the top sheet of paper and handed it to Mysti. “Your job is to call Camden’s college. Confirm he went there in fall of 1975. Something doesn’t feel right to me about DeVoss’s story.”

  “Am I looking for anything in particular?” Mysti took out her cellphone and her bluetooth earpiece.

  “Unfortunately, it’s needle in a haystack time. I’m looking for any odd stories about him, anything that doesn’t quite fit.”

  “How will this tell us if he was psychic?” I stood by the door, useless as a condom on a stone statue.

  Griff turned to me. “It won’t, but it’ll give me an idea of how dangerous this guy was.” He paused to type something on his computer. He stopped and glanced at me. “You call Margaret Franklin. She likes you best of the three of us. See if she can think of anybody who’d remember what Camden DeVoss was like. A teacher would be good. A classmate would be even better. Find out if Camden had an interest in the occult, or if there were odd stories floating around about him.”

  I left the room to call Margaret Franklin. She put me in touch with Donny Wayne McClure, who’d taught Camden senior level English.

  “Now Donny Wayne is eighty-five if he’s a day, but he’s scary sharp.” Margaret chuckled over the phone, her voice crackling. “Remembers things from back then better than he knows what he had for lunch. I’ll call him on your behalf.”

  Margaret said her goodbyes and called me back a few minutes later. “He can’t wait to meet you. Says he’ll be waiting at the front door.”

  Donny Wayne McClure lived in an assisted living community a half hour’s drive from Nazareth. The facility looked like a plain old nursing home to me. I parked and hurried to the front door.

  A man who’d been sitting on the bench out front stood, leaning heavily on his cane. From a distance, he looked like a strong wind might blow him over. I got closer and realized only his body was frail. His blue eyes were clear and lively.

  “You Peri Jean Mace?” He had a high, wheezy voice.

  “Yes, sir. You must be Mr. McClure.”

  “Call me Donny Wayne. I’ve not been a teacher for going on twenty-five years.” He bared a set of tobacco stained teeth at me and held out an age spotted hand. His skin was shiny and so thin it seemed I could see every vein. I was afraid to touch him, but the strength of his handshake surprised me. “Do you mind if we sit out here, hon? Fascists who run this place won’t let an old man smoke inside his own apartment.”

  “Not a bit,” I said and sat down on the bench. I took out my cigarettes and held out the pack to him. He shook his head and produced a pack of unfiltered Luckies. We both lit up.

  “Margaret says you’re looking into Camden DeVoss as part of an investigation on her daughter’s disappearance. Mind if I ask why you think your firm can find Susie when nobody else could?”

  His question made perfect sense, but it surprised me all the same.

  “It’s crazy, and you won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.” He blew a smoke ring. “I taught kids from the time I was twenty-three years old to the day I retired at the age of sixty-eight. I saw it all.”

  “I consult for Reed Investigations as a psychic medium.” I waited for him to tell me his religion precluded any such nonsense and for the visit to go downhill from there.

  “Do you now?” He stared at me so intently I squirmed like a high school kid who’d forgotten her homework. “And I take it you’ve contacted Susie Franklin’s ghost.”

  “Her spirit made contact with me.” Again, I waited for the bad stuff.

  “Despite my confidence otherwise, Peri Jean, you have managed to surprise me.” He pinched his cigarette and tossed it.

  “What do you think Camden has to do with this?” Donny Wayne regarded me out of the corner of one eye. “I have good reason to believe he’s dead, was dead years before Susie disappeared.”

  “Lewis DeVoss showed us a death certificate for Camden.” I checked Donny Wayne’s expression for surprise, but he closed his eyes and nodded. Did old Mr. DeVoss trot that thing out every time someone cornered him about the subject of Camden? Something flopped around in my mind, but I couldn’t catch it, and it disappeared back into the depths. “But I also saw…” I let my words trail off. I didn’t know how to tell this nice old man I thought I saw a ghost kill a living person.

  “I see from the look on your face you believe you’re on the right path.” Donny Wayne’s stare slipped off me and contemplated the stained concrete walk at our feet.

  “Mr.—Donny Wayne, I promise you we’re not out to do Lewis DeVoss any harm or—”

  McClure held up one hand and shook his head. “I’m an old man. Holding in what I know, what I saw, won’t serve any purpose anyway.” He cleared his throat and began talking in his whispery voice. “I taught Camden for both his junior and senior years of English. He was a straight B student, not because he lacked intelligence to be at the top of the class, but because his interests lay elsewhere.”

  “Sports?”

  “He played football, and it got him a scholarship, but no.” Donny Wayne crossed his arms across his wasted body. “Camden DeVoss thought he could bring his mother back from the dead. He believed he communicated with Lucille’s spirit through the snow globes.”

  I jerked against the bench and dropped my cigarette lighter on the ground.

  “You all right?” Donny Wayne raised one bushy eyebrow at me.

  I leaned down to pick up my cigarette lighter and noticed my arms were covered with chill bumps. I rubbed the skin, though warmth wasn’t the problem.

  �
��I’m okay. Had a long few days.” I quit rubbing my arms. The chill bumps weren’t going anywhere. “Lewis DeVoss told us how upset Camden got when he tried to sell the globes in a church rummage sale. What you said made it all make sense.”

  “Ahh, yes. The fateful rummage sale of 1973. Lucille hadn’t been dead for too long then, and Camden was really hurting. I take it you’ve met Lewis DeVoss?”

  “I have,” I said.

  “Then you know he’s a taciturn man, one who’d likely not be a great deal of comfort to a mourning teenage boy. His solution was to clean out Lucille’s belongings, to forget her. If anything, Lewis’s desire to forget his wife fueled Camden’s need to reconnect with her.” Donny Wayne shook his head and held up one hand. “Hate this worn out old brain. It gets side tracked so easily. Tell me something, Peri Jean. Have you seen one of the snow globes?”

  “I saw the one Margaret Franklin bought for Susie at the rummage sale. Cheap plastic ones, looked like something sold to tourists. It had the name of a city in it.” I considered telling him Susie used the snow globe to contact me, but I couldn’t quite make myself say the words. Not after hearing Camden used them to contact the spirit world. My mind didn’t want to accept the possibilities.

  Donny Wayne stared at his lap and plucked at the material of his pants. He lit another cigarette, still without speaking. Was he getting tired? Getting ready to have a stroke?

  “How did that come to be in your possession, Peri Jean? I ask because I know Margaret couldn’t find it after Susie went missing.”

  “It just sort of turned up.” Dread sank into my stomach like a poisonous fishhook. What sleeping monster had I awakened by fooling with that snow globe?

  Donny Wayne nodded. He reached into his pocket to get his cigarettes. His hand shook so badly I had to light one for him.

  “Do you need something to eat or maybe some juice?”

  “Nope. I ate right before you came. You’ve given me a bit of a fright.”

  My stomach curled in on itself and did a long, slow cartwheel. “How so?”

  “I attempted to counsel Camden on the loss of the snow globe Margaret purchased for little Susie. My attempt greatly amused him.” Donny Wayne pinched what was left of his cigarette between his thumb and forefinger without speaking. “He said one day little Susie would get a nasty surprise.”

  A huge man dressed in orchid colored scrubs stepped out on the porch with us. “Mister Donny Wayne, Nurse Simmons is looking for you. She said she best not find you out here chain smoking.”

  “I’ll be right inside, Terrence.” Donny Wayne smiled at the younger man. “Come by later for a cappuccino.”

  Terrence gave us a wave and disappeared inside.

  “Nurse Simmons is awful, Peri Jean, so I really must cut short this visit. However, I have two final things to share. The first is I advise you to look up Ollie Bickley back in Nazareth. He was the closest Camden had to a best friend in school. They had a very odd falling out in spring of 1975. The second is more of a question. Did Camden DeVoss manage to give Susie Franklin a nasty surprise?”

  “The nastiest.” I stood and held out my hand. Donny Wayne shook it. Terrence appeared like magic and helped the old man inside.

  I drove back to Nazareth trying to make sense of the things Donny Wayne told me. Whether or not Camden was a natural medium like me, I knew he could have made the snow globes do anything he wanted with the right kind of magic. Maybe the magic was already there. I thought over the possibility but couldn’t figure out who’d bother to spell the cheap snow globes. They certainly weren’t a TV movie quality magical object.

  I was more bothered by the idea Camden let Susie Franklin keep the snow globe planning to use it to hurt her. Had he already known in 1973 how he’d do it? I thought back to Kevin Douglas telling us he thought Susie’d met someone new and the way Susie seemed to expect the old car to come pick her up in the vision.

  I couldn’t make anything fit together. By the time I got back to the motel, my stomach was rumbling loud enough to pass for thunder. I knocked on the door of Griff’s motel room, half expecting to hear either Griff or Mysti shout to come back later. To my surprise, Mysti opened the door right away.

  “Was the trip worth it?”

  “Yes and no.” I told Griff everything I learned from Donny Wayne but added I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “He did tell me to contact an Ollie—”

  “Bickley,” Griff and Mysti said together.

  “We’re going to surprise Mr. Bickley at his place of business later this evening.” Griff stopped talking to yawn. His yawn made me yawn. Mysti caught the bug, too.

  “Sounds like the two of you had a productive day, too.” I checked the coffee pot Griff brought in with him and found it empty. A wave of fatigue blurred my vision. I leaned on the cheap dresser.

  “I got lucky.” Mysti sat on the bed and curled her legs under her. “The head of registration at Camden’s college actually went to school there at the same time he did. She remembered him well.”

  “I’m willing to bet he wasn’t a very nice guy.”

  I yawned again. “Sorry.” I sat down next to Mysti on the bed. I heard her talking but not her words and dozed off without really meaning to. An air horn blaring jarred me awake. I sat up straight, my stiff muscles creaking.

  Griff, still sitting in the stiff chair with his head thrown back in sleep, jerked away with a yelp. He fumbled his cellphone and dropped it on the floor, where the alarm continued to blare. He grabbed it and shut it off.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep.” I stared at the cheap, motel issue bedside clock and gasped. I’d slept three full hours. Embarrassment crept through the leftover sluggishness from my nap.

  “We all needed it.” Griff stood and stretched. “I’m going to get cleaned up. We’ve got time for a quick supper before we visit Mr. Bickley.”

  Mysti and I went to our room where we rushed through showers, putting on clean clothes, and applying makeup, hers more elaborate than mine. Griff met us in the parking lot. Several minutes later, we sat at a table in Nazareth’s other diner, a place called Pop’s, waiting on three bacon chili cheeseburgers. Griff said, “Should have come here the first night.”

  “Can I tell her what I learned?” Mysti stirred her straw in her root beer float.

  Griff sipped his chocolate malt and nodded.

  “You were right earlier at the motel. Camden wasn’t a nice guy. Bad temper. Wouldn’t do his work. Went off on one of the professors.” Mysti stopped to take out a notepad covered with scribbles. “Camden had a running feud with this senior named Freddie Felder. Typical Big Man on Campus, by the sound of it. It apparently got pretty nasty. Freddie slipped Camden some kind of tranquilizer, made him up like a woman and left him on display in front of the library.”

  I cringed. Nice guy or not, the prank must have humiliated Camden down to his DNA. The waitress brought our burgers, and we dug in.

  “Louise—that’s the woman from the registrar’s office—said Camden started a fistfight with Freddie Felder and lost.” Mysti leaned away from her plate to read from her notes. “Then, once Camden figured out he was flunking, he had an old friend from Nazareth help him pack up his dorm room. The guy introduced himself to every woman he came across. Ollie Bickley.”

  “Donny Wayne McClure told me the two had a falling out while still in high school.” I polished off the last of my burger, a little sorry it went so fast.

  “Maybe Camden bribed him.” Griff ate several fries at once. “We’ll find out later. We haven’t even gotten to the juiciest part. Tell her, sweetie.”

  Mysti pinked and read off her notes again.

  “After Camden’s supposed death, which was a whole other thing, Freddie Felder was found murdered on campus. Louise said it was really gruesome.” Mysti gestured at Griff, who pulled his laptop out of his bag. He opened it and took it out of sleep mode.

  “I couldn’t find a picture, but here’s what I got from the first cop on scene. Freddie wa
s suspended over a toilet with his eyes cut out and had been gutted.”

  I pushed away my malt. The huge pile of food on my stomach rolled around drunkenly. I begged it to stay where it was. “What’s this about Camden’s supposed death?” I asked.

  “The State of New Mexico doesn’t have any record of his death. I was able to find reports of the car crash, including the picture DeVoss showed us, but there’s no record anybody died.” Griff signaled the waitress for the check.

  “Shouldn’t we go back and confront Lewis DeVoss?” I asked. The old man seemed the best authority on what really became of Camden DeVoss.

  “No. Because I got a feeling about this Ollie Bickley, and I never ignore gut feelings.” Griff gave the waitress several bills and stood. “Plus, he gets off work right about now. Good time to surprise him.”

  The service station’s windows were dark when we pulled into the lot. I’d noticed the place several times as I crisscrossed through Nazareth because it still had the old pumps out front, the kind that didn’t take credit cards.

  Griff, ignoring the darkened building, climbed out of the SUV, went to the window and cupped his hands around his eyes to see inside. Mysti and I climbed out of the SUV and hung back. The place smelled like grease and old car upholstery, the kind of smell clothes picked up and kept until they were washed in vinegar.

  Griff tapped on the window and waved.

  Faintly, I heard someone yell, “We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.”

  “I don’t need my car worked on. I need to speak with Ollie Bickley.” Griff motioned to Mysti and me. We approached warily. This close, I noticed the front door bore greasy handprints. If it got on my jeans, I’d have to demote them to work clothes, and I didn’t relish the idea of garage sale scavenging for a new nice pair.