Carlene Thompson

by Black for Remembrance (epub)

  "Maybe she wouldn't like me because I took her place," Melinda said in a teary voice. "She prob'ly would have liked the dolls and stuffed animals, but they're mine."

  "She wouldn't have hurt them any more than she would have hurt you. She loved dolls and animals." Caroline said the last with a glance at George, who sat cowering outside the bedroom door. After his first foray into the room with Greg, he had fled to the hall.

  "If it wasn't a ghost George wouldn't be so scared, and the ghost doesn't like me. I'm the only one whose room got torn up," Melinda persisted, hugging what was left of a teddy bear to her chest.

  "David, I think we should call Tom." Caroline forced her voice to steadiness. "I know breaking and entering isn't his department, but he's been in on this all along."

  David nodded. "Greg, would you give Tom a call for us? I think your mother could use a few minutes to catch her breath."

  An hour later, when the lab man had scoured the upstairs bedroom looking for evidence the intruder might have left behind, Tom sat down with David and Caroline in the living room. "You know there's no sign of any locks being tampered with," he said.

  "I checked them first thing," David answered. "I think it's pretty obvious who's behind this."

  "Maybe too obvious. Unless the cleaning lady is a total idiot, she would have made it look like a break-in." Tom leaned forward. "David, I think you folks should leave town for a while until we get to the bottom of all this."

  "Leave town!" David burst out. "I have a practice to maintain. I'm supposed to be at my office right now. I can't just up and leave."

  "I understand how important your practice is to you, David, but isn't your family more important? I can post someone outside your house, but I don't have the manpower to give all of you protection."

  Tom looked at David intently. "Do you want to put your children at risk?"

  "What kind of question is that?"

  "Not an impertinent one. I just want to give you my professional opinion that your family is being stalked by someone who I think has already murdered three people. Now, if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't hesitate to turn my patients over to someone else for a while. Either that, or I'd let Caroline and the children go someplace without me."

  David looked at him, appalled. "You really think our situation is related to those murders?"

  Oh, David, Caroline thought in frustration. You still think I'm cracking up and nothing is going on besides Fidelia making mischief.

  Tom was going on calmly. "Your wife isn't imagining things. All you have to do is take a look at Melinda's bedroom to know that."

  "But the cleaning lady. She could just be sending black orchids to the funerals of anyone in the city who's been murdered."

  "Why would she do that?" Caroline asked.

  "Hell, I don't know. I told you I think she's crazy."

  "Maybe she is, and we'll certainly question her," Tom said. "But David, if she is responsible for the havoc upstairs, she could also be responsible for the murders. She could be a very dangerous woman, and a lot could happen between now and the time we can put her away if we're able to make a case against her."

  David looked down at his hands. "Okay, Tom. You're right—my family does come first, and if I have to take them away to protect them, I will." He looked at Caroline, his eyes tender. "We've never been to Miami. Would you like to go there for the week?"

  "I'd love to," Caroline said.

  "David, you need to be gone for more than a few days," Tom interrupted. "If that's all you can spare, make arrangements for Caroline and the kids to stay on until this mess is cleared up. I'm begging you."

  David took a deep breath, then nodded. "They can stay as long as they need to. I can be ready to go by day after tomorrow."

  Late that night when David had lapsed into the snoring that accompanied restless sleep and Melinda had kicked her for the fifth time, Caroline crawled out of bed, slipped on her silk kimono, and went downstairs. After hesitating for a moment, not certain where his guard duties lay, George left Melinda to sleep in the big bed beside her father and padded after Caroline.

  The moon was bright so Caroline didn't bother with lights. She poured a finger of brandy and curled into the big easy chair beside the sliding glass doors in the family room. George settled down beside her, but he was restless too, raising his head every couple of minutes to listen.

  The killer could be right outside, Caroline thought. After all, he must have the house staked out or he wouldn't know when it was empty and he wouldn't have been able to find Twinkle lying in the trash.

  Poor Twinkle, once the beloved toy of a beautiful little girl, now a prop in a bizarre scenario of terrorization. It seemed too fantastic to be true, but it was happening nevertheless.

  Caroline took a sip of brandy, her eyes straying to the bouquet of carnations David had sent yesterday to cheer her up. There were twelve, yellow and white mixed with baby's breath, standing in a cut-crystal vase that glittered in the moonlight from its place on the dark cherry coffee table Fidelia had polished that very morning.

  The spicy scent of the flowers drifted over her. She loved carnations. Every year she put a bouquet on Hayley's grave. But there was something about the flowers. There was some association she couldn't quite make about carnations. What is it? she wondered wearily, finishing the brandy and leaning her head against the back of the chair. Something I should remember, particularly now with all that's happening.

  And then it came to her. The rosette carved on so many old tombstones represented the carnation, and the carnation was the symbol of reincarnation. She sat up. For nineteen years she had been putting carnations on Hayley's grave and had never once made the connection. Or had she, subconsciously? Had she wished Hayley back, no matter what the consequences? And had she, like the grieving father in the haunting story "The Monkey's Paw," gotten her wish in a twisted and grotesque form? Had Hayley come back a murderer?

  "No!" George leaped to his feet and barked. "Hayley has not come back," Caroline said fiercely. "It can't be true!"

  But her words sounded hollow in the eerie half-light of a cold November night.

  Melinda and Greg were unhappy.

  "Miss school for weeks!" Melinda wailed. "I was gonna be Pocahontas in the play."

  "And I'll miss basketball practice. I'll be off the team."

  "Lin, there will be other years you can be in the school play," Caroline told her. "And the same goes for you, Greg. The high school will still have a basketball team next year."

  "But I'll be so far behind," Greg muttered. "A has-been. Forgotten."

  "Look, kids, I'm sorry about this," Caroline said evenly, "but the police think we should leave town for a while."

  "Why can't we just go to a motel and have a priest come and throw holy water around here?" Melinda asked. "Ghosts hate that."

  David had already left for work, as usual leaving disputes with the children for her to handle. Even in an emergency he's not around, she thought angrily. She picked up the breakfast plates and headed determinedly for the sink. "There's more to all this than the destruction of your room, Melinda, but that's not the point. The point is that your dad and I have decided we're going to spend some time away from home and that's it. I don't want any more arguments."

  "What about George?" Melinda demanded. "Are you gonna leave him here with the ghost?"

  George, who had been lying peacefully in the sunshine beneath the window, raised his head and looked at them with what Caroline would have sworn was alarm.

  "There is no ghost, but George is going, too. Daddy's going to rent a condo for a month where we'll be able to keep him."

  "He won't like it," Melinda said darkly. "He'll run away."

  "No, he won't. He'll love swimming in the ocean."

  "In Jaws a dog got eaten by the shark."

  "Melinda, that is enough! We're going and we'll have a wonderful time and that's final."

  Scowling, the two of them left for school. Caroline had wanted them t
o stay home, but Melinda was to compete in the third-grade spelling bee that afternoon and Greg wanted to talk to the basketball coach about his upcoming "hiatus." Too frazzled to argue with them anymore, she relented, knowing that tomorrow they would all be safely on their way to Miami. Greg had promised to drop Melinda off at the grade-school door before he went on to the high school.

  When they were gone, Caroline sat down at the kitchen table feeling utter despair. Was there going to be anything left of her life when this nightmare was over? It had already damaged her friendship with Lucy, brought to full bloom inchoate problems between her and David, and now the children, particularly Melinda, were becoming increasingly contrary. Caroline had a feeling their touchiness sprang from fear they wouldn't admit—but, no matter how they felt, she had to protect them from whatever menace was hanging over their lives.

  She spent the morning packing. She attacked Melinda's clothes first, simply because it frightened her to look at the room and she wanted to get the packing over with as soon as possible. While she folded little cotton slacks and pullover tops, she thought about her musings last night. Reincarnation. In the cheerful wintry light streaming through Melinda's uncurtained window, the idea seemed not only fanciful but ridiculous. Resurrecting her daughter by putting carnations on her grave every year indeed! Maybe she was losing her mind. Well, if she was, it was no wonder considering what her life had been like ever since she heard that child's voice in Lucy's storeroom. But the train her thoughts were taking proved she desperately needed to get away. They all did.

  Deciding Greg and David could pack for themselves, she hauled out her own large brown suitcase next and stood in front of her open closet door, trying to decide what to take. How hot was it in Miami at this time of year?

  The doorbell interrupted her thoughts. She wasn't expecting anyone. Maybe it was Tom wanting to take another look at Melinda's room.

  But it was Chris. He stood a little uncertainly on the porch giving her his rakish grin. "Hi, Caro. Hope I'm not interrupting anything."

  "Actually, you are," she said shortly. "We're going out of town tomorrow and I'm packing."

  "What I have to say won't take long."

  "Are you going to tell me about someone else you slept with when we were married? Someone who slipped your mind?"

  Chris's grin faded. "Bitchiness doesn't become you. Why don't you just get off your high horse and talk to me? Ten minutes. That's all I ask."

  Caroline wanted to slam the door in his face but something prevented her. Maybe it was too many years of good manners. Either that or too many years of loving him. It was hard to do an about-face overnight.

  She stepped aside. "All right, you can come in, but only for a few minutes. I really am busy."

  George had followed her to the door and he bared his teeth, a low, menacing growl vibrating in his throat.

  "George, stop it!" Caroline commanded. "This is a friend. It's all right."

  The dog continued to look warily at the stranger, his hackles raised, as Chris stepped into the house.

  "He's a good dog, Caro," Chris said, holding out his partially closed fist for the dog to sniff. "Don't jump on him for trying to protect you."

  George looked at her face, making sure the intruder really was a friend. Then he relaxed and allowed Chris to stroke his head, although his back legs remained tensed, ready to spring.

  "You said you were packing?" Chris asked, continuing to pet the dog.

  "Yes. Tom thinks it's best if we go away for a while until the police find out who's behind everything that's been happening." She paused. "Did Tom tell you about Harry Vinton and his suspicions about Millicent's death?"

  "Yes. And he told me again I should leave town too."

  "I thought you were leaving for Taos a few days ago."

  "I postponed the trip because I wanted a chance to talk to you. I want to get things straightened out before I go."

  "I don't think that's possible," Caroline said shortly. "A few empty apologies aren't going to fix everything."

  "Oh, Caro."

  "Did Tom also tell you about Melinda's room?" Caroline asked to change the subject.

  "No."

  Caroline knew she was stalling, not wanting to get into the issue of Lucy with Chris, but she couldn't help herself. "Come upstairs. The police told me not to clean the room today in case they need to come back and check anything, so I can show you."

  George trotted after them to Melinda's room, but he would not enter. Chris, however, stepped gingerly inside and let out a low whistle. "How did the creep get in?"

  "We don't know. There was no sign of forced entry."

  Chris's eyebrows drew together. "Then someone had a key?"

  "So it seems, but I just had the locks changed. The only people with keys are David, Greg, and me."

  "Lucy told me something about a cleaning woman you have. You don't think…"

  At the mention of Lucy's name, Caroline turned away.

  "Do you have to look like a stricken animal every time I say her name?"

  Caroline whirled to look at him. "Sorry if my emotions make you uncomfortable."

  "It was a long time ago."

  "Well, I just found out about it."

  "And that's a big part of what's bothering you, isn't it? That your best friend could keep a secret like that for so long."

  "It doesn't do much for building trust."

  "And it doesn't do much for your state of mind, either. I couldn't have chosen a worse time to tell you. Under normal circumstances you wouldn't be reacting this violently."

  "Don't be so sure."

  Chris sighed. "Caro, it was a mistake. We tried to correct it…"

  "And instead you just made things worse."

  Chris began walking restlessly around the room. "Yes, we made things worse. But how would you have felt if we'd told you? We would both have lost you."

  "You mean you would have lost Hayley. I obviously was very easily replaced."

  "Sure," Chris said angrily. "I ran right out and got married again. Never gave you a second thought." Abruptly he stopped pacing and stared at the mirror. "What on earth is this?"

  "It says 'Help Me Mommy.'"

  "I can see that. But it looks like it's written in…"

  "Blood." Caroline came to stand beside him. "It was left by our visitor. Sounds like a message from Hayley, doesn't it?"

  Chris looked at her sharply. "That's impossible."

  "I know. At least part of me knows that. Another part says…"

  "…that Hayley's ghost came back and wrecked your daughter's room and left a message in blood?" Chris put his free hand on her shoulder. "Does that sound like Hayley to you?"

  "No—but Chris, there were no signs of breaking and entering. And then there's George. Look at him. He won't come in here. Dogs are supposed to be sensitive to the supernatural, you know."

  As if for confirmation Chris looked over at George, who crouched at the door, his tail tucked firmly between his legs.

  At that moment the phone rang, and Caroline picked up Melinda's white Princess extension. Almost before she got out her hello, Tom's low voice was saying, "I don't want to alarm you, but I think you should know that some of the lab work we did in Melinda's room has come back."

  "Yes?"

  "There was only one set of fingerprints aside from the ones we took from the family last night. Probably Fidelia's. No hair aside from the family's. But we did determine that the message on the mirror is written in human blood. Type O-positive."

  "O-positive. That was Hayley's blood type."

  "It's the most common blood type, Caroline. I just wanted to let you know this to emphasize that you're dealing with a real nut here and it's imperative for you and your family to leave town tomorrow and not tell anyone where you're going, particularly not Fidelia Barnabas."

  "Fidelia! But you don't really think…"

  "As I said, not unless she's stupid—but that doesn't change the fact that both days something has happe
ned in your home, she's been in the house. Now, will you promise to keep your whereabouts secret?"

  "I promise."

  Tom hung up without even saying goodbye, and Caroline turned to Chris. "Tom says the message on the mirror is written in human blood. Type O-positive. That was Hayley's blood type."

  Chris's face had gone parchment pale. "Caroline, there has to be an explanation for all this." He smiled weakly. "Besides, I don't think ghosts have blood, do they?"

  Caroline giggled in spite of her fear and anger, although she was shaking all over. "I don't know. I guess I didn't pay enough attention to all those Friday night horror movies I watched when I was growing up." And then she burst into tears.

  Chris wrapped his good arm around her, pressing her close to his chest as she cried. "Caro, everything's going to be better when you get away for a few weeks. They're going to catch who's behind all this and your life will go on just as smooth as before."

  But my life can never be the same, she thought after Chris left. She could never forget that Harry Vinton had suppressed evidence that might have saved Hayley. She could never forget about Chris and Lucy. There was no going back to the life she had before. The experience of the last few weeks had shaken the faith in people she had tried so hard to regain after Hayley's murder, and she didn't know if she would be able to restore it a second time.

  In spite of their morning departure time, David had insisted on keeping office hours that evening as usual. Caroline was annoyed but not surprised. Raised in poverty, David had struggled to become a doctor and start a practice, and he held on to that practice with an almost paranoid tenacity, believing that if he turned loose for more than a week, the work of a lifetime would vanish in the blink of an eye and he would be back digging coal in a Kentucky mine just as his father had done until his early death. Caroline understood David, but that didn't make his near-constant absence any easier to bear. And she especially resented it tonight, when their home might be violated again.