The Belles of Desire, Mississippi (The Ghosts of Summerleigh Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  “Loxley Belle, you come out here right now.”

  “Up here…” she called from the floor above.

  As quietly as I could, I raced to the end of the hall and ran up the stairs uncaring if they were spongy or not. The invisible footsteps had put the fear of God in me, and I didn’t want to be up here. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was behind me, following me, watching me.

  “Loxley!”

  “Here, silly. In the nursery.” And there she was, sitting on the floor by the window, a sprinkling of jacks and a tiny red rubber ball in front of her. “Play with me, Harper.”

  I could see the dark clouds gathering through the dirty, curtainless window. I didn’t care for this room. It had too many nooks and crannies, too many places for things to hide. “Loxley, who was in here? I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I heard you clapping hands with someone. Someone was up here. Who was it?”

  “That boy. I think you scared him away. He doesn’t like grown-ups.”

  “I’m no grown-up,” I said with a nervous, uncertain smile. “What boy? Someone I know?” I sat down across from her. She picked up the ball and stared at me with her big blue eyes.

  “No, I don’t think so. He ran out of the room when he heard you coming. Will you play with me?”

  A shadow passed by the door, but I pretended I didn’t see it. Loxley glanced behind her and then turned back to me with curious eyes. I said, “I can play for just a minute or two. I have to finish peeling peaches before Momma gets back. I’m waiting on Jeopardy too. She went to deliver jars, and it’s going to storm.”

  “Play with me first and I will help you, Harper,” she promised with her sweetest expression.

  “You mean you’ll eat them all. Come on, then, you first.”

  We played a few rounds, and then I reminded her of my chore. Tucking the jacks and ball in her pinstriped apron pocket, she paused and stared at the doorway. I couldn’t discern her expression. “What is it, Loxley?”

  “I think we should go now.”

  The hair on my arms prickled up as I asked, “Why? Is someone coming?” I didn’t hear any footsteps, but ghosts didn’t always let you know they were there until they jumped out at you. At least that’s what Loxley told me.

  She nodded and took my hand. “We have to go, and Momma will be back soon.” We were down two flights of stairs in no time flat. I didn’t ask any more questions and gladly went back to paring peaches. Just as Loxley predicted, Momma returned without Miss Augustine and chattered away as she got the pot ready for the jars. The three of us worked together to get the peaches on to simmer, and Momma even allowed Loxley to add a dash or two extra of cinnamon. Loxley loved cinnamon.

  Without my hearing her arrive, Jeopardy stormed in through the back door looking like she’d fallen down a hill. The sleeve of her dress was torn, her face was dirty, and there could be no doubt she’d been crying.

  Momma didn’t say a word, but I couldn’t help but exclaim, “Jeopardy!” My sister didn’t speak but stared at Momma with all the hatred she could muster. To my surprise, Momma smiled sweetly. What was happening? Suddenly, Jeopardy threw the quarters and a handful of twenty-dollar bills at Momma, but Momma didn’t flinch. Jeopardy ran through the kitchen away from us all. Our mother continued to stir the pot and didn’t go see about her. I went instead.

  It was her footsteps I heard now. I knew the sound of her shoes well. She bounded up the stairs two by two all the way to her “castle” room in the attic. I heard her lock it, but I refused to go away.

  “Jeopardy, it’s me, Harper. Please let me in.” The only sound I heard was her crying. “Please, Jeopardy.”

  She didn’t answer me. After a few minutes, I walked down the hallway and waited at the top of the stairs. What could I do? I couldn’t force her to open the door. A hundred horrible scenarios played in my head, but I couldn’t figure out what just happened. Maybe Momma knew. I would certainly ask her. I looked back once more and to my surprise saw a woman in a white gown with long dark hair sliding through the locked door. And then Jeopardy’s crying stopped.

  I didn’t stay at Summerleigh. I had never seen a ghost before, and the experience left me terrified. Ignoring Momma’s call, I ran until I couldn’t run anymore and found myself clear down the lane at Mrs. Hendrickson’s yard. As always, the older woman was home, and I went inside and cried on her shoulder. I couldn’t explain why I was so upset, but after a few hours, a half-dozen tea cakes and a phone call from Momma, I was prepared to go back to Summerleigh.

  Or as prepared as I could be.

  Chapter Five—Jerica

  Taking an extra five minutes in the shower, I stood under the showerhead dumbfounded at the memory of my strange dream. In no way did I think I had imagined any of it. There was no doubt in my mind that Harper Belle Hayes had visited me and that I’d seen life through her eyes for a little while. As I scrubbed my body, I could smell traces of Harper’s lavender perfume, taste the peaches on my lips and feel the heat of that long-ago summer day on my skin. Yes, I had been there. Loxley’s curious eyes and Jeopardy’s ripped sleeve came back to my mind; these were images I would never forget—not in a lifetime. I wasn’t sure how Harper had done it, but she and I had connected in that dream, and I couldn’t wait to talk to her about it. I knew for a fact my friend was a big believer in dreams, since she shared hers with me often, but this was certainly an unusual experience. I used to dream all the time, but I never did anymore since Marisol’s death. Until now.

  I rinsed the soap off my skin and stepped out of the hotel’s shower surprised to hear my cell phone ringing. “Shoot,” I complained to no one. I wrapped a towel around my body and another around my hair before padding off to the nightstand to retrieve my phone. Someone from the front desk of the care facility had called. Some emergency must have happened. I glanced at the bright red alarm clock display. I would be at work in thirty minutes, just as I was supposed to be, but I couldn’t avoid returning the call. I was the administrator, and I couldn’t shirk my responsibilities despite my current personal drama. There could only be a few reasons why anyone from work would call so close to check-in time. And none of them were good.

  To my surprise, it wasn’t Marcheline who answered the phone but Anita. “Good morning, this is Jerica.”

  Anita answered, “I am sorry to call you like this when I know you’ll be here soon, but I have to give you this notice. Can’t avoid procedure even though…”

  “Notice? Who passed away, Anita?” I asked as I sat on the bed. I knew exactly who died, but my mind wasn’t willing to process the heartbreaking truth.

  “It’s Miss Harper. She’s gone, Jerica. Passed away in her sleep. I am so sorry.”

  My hands shook at the news. “Um, I’ll be there soon, Anita. Thank you.”

  “Take your time. We’re just getting her ready now, but the ambulance is here for her. Do you want them to wait for you?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. You sign the paperwork, okay?” This was one patient I couldn’t say goodbye to. Not like that.

  “You’ve got it. I’ll see you soon.”

  Anita hung up, and I collapsed on the bed. This explained everything, how Harper came to me in my dream, how she could share a bit of her life with me.

  She was dead.

  Then I remembered the picture I had placed on my nightstand last night. I stared at those hopeful faces now. There they were: Jeopardy, Harper, Addison and Loxley. All of the Belle girls except for Jeopardy were smiling back at me.

  I tucked the picture and my phone back in my leather purse, finished getting dressed and checked out of the hotel. Screw Eddie. I’m not staying away from home another night. I needed to go to my apartment anyway—I needed to brush my teeth and change into clean underwear. I had been so frazzled that I’d forgotten to pack underwear and my toothbrush as well as socks. I couldn’t face the day with fuzzy teeth, and I wasn’t one to go “commando” as my old roommate used to. That would put me getting to work even
later. Well, it couldn’t be avoided. With my hair still wet and with minimal makeup, I made the drive to my apartment and raced up the stairs to find that my door stood open.

  Oh, God. Not this.

  Without thinking, I stepped inside and immediately noticed that my television and satellite receiver were missing. The couch cushions were scattered as if someone had taken the time to dig for change—or knew exactly where I kept my “mad money” in a zippered plastic bag. I should have known it would be a bad idea to hide money in the couch.

  “Hello?” I called, but nobody answered. As cold as it was in here, the door must have been open for hours. Gee, I have great neighbors. Did nobody hear all this commotion? The kitchen didn’t have much missing except the microwave, but my bedroom looked a shambles. Someone had pulled out all the dresser drawers, and my clothes were all over the floor. My nightstands and closet stood open, and my computer and jewelry boxes were gone. I sat on the bare mattress and took in the sight.

  Oh no! Eddie had taken Marisol’s picture! The one from our last day at the beach. I checked around to see if it had fallen on the floor, but there wasn’t a trace. He’d clearly stolen it as if in one last cruel act, he would steal her memory from me. Eddie wasn’t joking. He clearly blamed me for the accident; he blamed me that Marisol was gone.

  God, I had been such a fool to let him back in here. What the hell, Eddie?!

  When I quit sobbing, I knew I had to call the police. Again. I’d left my cell phone in my purse, so I had to use the landline. Picking up the phone, I heard a voice on the line. A girl’s voice. Nothing but whispers, desperate whispers. “Hello?” I said as I sprang to my feet. There was another phone in the living room. What if someone was hurt? I ran through the mess and raced to the phone. It was still on its receiver. There was no one in here. I hung up the phone and picked it up again and again, but nothing I did disconnected the sad voice. Whoever was there didn’t hang up, and she was crying now. The whispers continued, and the voice sounded even more heartbreaking.

  “Hello? Is someone there?”

  “What happened in here?” Detective Easton stood in the doorway. I dropped the phone and nearly jumped a foot off the ground.

  “You tell me. I thought you guys were watching this place! If I had to guess, I’d say that Eddie cleaned me out while I was hiding out in the hotel. What a great idea to leave my home unattended!” Angry words burst out of my mouth before I had a chance to think about reining myself in. Harper’s death and now this? It was too much to handle.

  “He’s a likely candidate, but we can’t know for sure he did this until we begin the investigation. Could you have left it unlocked?”

  I ignored her stupid question, tossed a couch cushion on the couch and sat on it. “Well, he took my change stash, and nobody knew about that bag of change except Eddie. It was right here.”

  “Lots of people hide money in their couch, Jerica.”

  I shook my head and said, “You honestly think a stranger did this?”

  “Could be a stranger, but Eddie Poole would be my first suspect. First things first, I’ll need you to step out; this is a crime scene now. I have to get the crime team in here, and I’ll need a list of what’s missing.”

  “Marisol’s picture, the one on my nightstand—he took it. It had to be him. Who else would do such a thing?”

  “I am sorry, Jerica. We let you down on this one, but I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  I didn’t believe her. I knew it wasn’t going to be all right. I was never going to be rid of Eddie. He would always torment me, blame me for Marisol’s death. Like I didn’t blame myself enough. “I don’t have time for this. I have to go to work—a patient has passed away. You do what you have to, Detective.”

  “Oh, sorry to hear that. Alright. Well, I’ll call you when we’re done.”

  “Fine,” I said. “And don’t bother locking the door. There’s nothing left to steal.”

  I was too stunned to cry now. I drove to work feeling numb, just like the morning of the accident. One minute we’d been singing, and the next….

  The ambulance was parked in front of the doors, and I watched as the paramedics respectfully wheeled the sheet-covered body of Harper Hayes out of the Sunrise Retirement Home. Some of the residents came to watch her leave; this would be hard on them. Harper had been everyone’s favorite. Even the crotchety Ricky Jackson liked her, and that was saying a lot.

  When the ambulance drove off, I wiped away tears and walked inside. This would be the second hardest day of my life.

  Chapter Six—Jerica

  Anita and I had barely finished Harper’s paperwork when an older gentleman in a tidy blue suit appeared at my station. “May I help you, sir?”

  “I’m here on business for Mrs. Harper Hayes.”

  Anita and I looked at one another. “I’m sorry to tell you that Mrs. Hayes passed away this morning. Were you a family member?” I asked politely.

  “Yes, I know about her passing, but I am not a family member. I am a friend of hers from Mississippi.”

  Curious about who this unknown friend could be, I suggested that we speak privately in one of the empty consultation rooms. Closing the door behind us, I invited Harper’s visitor to sit across from me at the small, round table. It was then that I noticed the man had a small leather bag with him. He put it on the table and unzipped it with trembling hands.

  “I didn’t catch your name, sir. I am Jerica Poole.”

  “Oh, good, just the lady I wanted to see.” He removed two envelopes, one small and the other long and white. He placed the smaller one in front of me. “I am supposed to give you this, in the event of Harper’s passing.” He slid the sealed envelope closer to me. I didn’t open it.

  “What’s this all about?” The hair pricked up on the back of my neck, but I kept an uneasy smile on my face.

  “I know this all appears so mysterious, but I am here on behalf of Harper Belle. Excuse me, Harper Belle Hayes. My name is Ben, Ben Hartley. I am an old friend of the Belle family, specifically Harper. I haven’t seen much of Harper in the past few years, but that wasn’t entirely my fault.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Not to doubt you, but she never mentioned having a friend named Ben. Again, I’m not trying to be rude…”

  He sighed sadly. “I can believe it. I think she spent most of her life trying to forget me, but I never forgot her. I would have thought she had forgiven me after all this time. She must have, or she wouldn’t have sent me here. Please take the envelope. It is meant for you.”

  I licked my suddenly dry lips and said, “I can’t accept the envelope, Ben. First, I don’t know what’s in it, and second, as an employee of the Sunrise Retirement Home, it’s against the rules to accept gifts from residents, past or present. As you say, you’re here on Harper’s behalf. So this would be considered a gift from her, or whatever this is. I am sure you understand; I have to follow the rules.” That wasn’t entirely true, considering the gifts Harper had given me for Marisol, but I didn’t want to offend him.

  Ben’s wrinkled face reddened, and his faded green eyes were moist with unshed tears. He had a head full of hair, but I could tell he wasn’t in the best of health. In this line of work, I had learned to pick up on these things pretty quickly. “Harper said you would be the one to help her find Jeopardy. It was her last wish, Miss Poole.”

  I didn’t correct him on calling me Miss, but my face reddened too. “I have every intention of doing my research, Mr. Hartley, but I can’t accept money.”

  “It’s not money. It’s the keys to Summerleigh and the caretaker’s cottage. I used to live there. The cottage is still in working order. If you’d like, I can have it cleaned and updated before you arrive.”

  “I think there’s been some mistake, sir.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips. “I am not going to Summerleigh. Harper never asked me to move to Mississippi.”

  “How else will you find Jeopardy? You can’t do that from a desk in Virginia. No, hear me out. All
of the Belles are gone now, even little Loxley. There is no one left, no one to carry on the search.” His shoulders sagged, and although I felt horrible for bringing him any discomfort, I had to be honest with him. I was nothing if not honest.

  “What about the sheriff’s department or a detective agency? I’ve never looked for a missing person before. Harper was my friend, Ben. She helped me through the most difficult time in my life. I am not exaggerating when I tell you that I loved Harper like a mother. I think it’s a great tragedy, the disappearance of her sister, but I don’t know why she believes I can help bring her home. I’m not a family member.”

  “Sometimes blood isn’t thicker than water, Miss Poole. It’s about the ties of the heart, not your genetic makeup. And I am sorry for your loss.”

  Not half as sorry as I am, I thought. I peeked inside the envelope. Sure enough, there were two brass keys inside and a slip of paper with an address written on it.

  “Would you mind if I visited the restroom?” he asked politely. The phone rang in and surprised the heck out of me. Only Anita knew I was in here, so I knew it must be important. I picked it up hurriedly and covered the receiver.

  “Of course, Ben. It’s just around the corner to the right.”

  “Thank you.” His southern drawl was very apparent now. Funny how I didn’t notice it at the beginning of our conversation. It was almost as if the more tired he appeared, the thicker his accent.

  “Yes, Anita?”

  “I have the funeral home on the line. They have some questions for you—they say they can’t wait. Can you take their call now?”

  “No, let me wrap this up and I’ll call them back. I mean, surely they can wait five minutes.”