Shadows from the Past

by Rebecca Grace

  When she came out of the shower wrapped in her robe, Stacey made a decision. She locked her bedroom door and slid the letters from her jacket. She took them into the bathroom and locked that door too. Certainly they wouldn’t put a camera in the bathroom, would they?

  She re-opened the first letter and this time she unsealed the inner envelope. It was a single typed page, dated a month before Helen’s last visit.

  Lily Feeney’s body

  Throat slashed — like others

  Posed in sexual position — like others

  Piece of hair cut — like others

  Left ring finger sliced off — different than others

  Killed after midnight — not like others

  Not as much blood — killed elsewhere?

  Witnesses heard screams

  Dark-haired man and dark sedan

  Composite drawing?

  Stacey frowned. Was this what Helen had been doing? Or were these comments she had copied from John Scotti’s notes? Stacey looked at the other letters. Mack said she was taking notes and compiling an overall file. Could this be the information?

  Wait until she told him! But how could she admit Helen had sent this to her? No, wait. A better plan would be to pretend to locate the notes in the boxes downstairs. That would show him Helen had not been lying. Stacey hesitated. She didn’t want to give him the letters until she’d had a chance to read the information. Helen had sent it to her for safe keeping instead of giving it to him for a reason. She needed to figure out why.

  She opened the next letter.

  Hang onto this and put it with the others I send you. H

  This was a typed transcript of an interview that Helen had conducted in Los Angeles. The man was a bartender at a place called the Pink Chariot and described Lily as a regular customer, “a party girl always looking for fun.” The next transcription was an interview with Lily’s landlady. It was interspersed with italicized notes from Helen. Apparently the woman wanted to protect her tenants, but she had told Helen about Lily having various male visitors.

  “A different man every night. Sometimes she threw wild parties. Not surprised at what happened to her.” What would Mack think of those comments?

  There appeared to be several relationships but none lasted long. Only one got special attention. “Boyfriend #5, terrible fights. Broke up one month before she died. He was in show biz. Promised to help her get a job, and threatened once to throw her out the window. Police called, but no charges were filed. ”

  Stacey sighed. Did Mack know any of this?

  A sudden pounding on the bedroom door made her jump. She folded up the letter and opened the bathroom door. “Yes?”

  “Are you going to work today or spend it locked in your room pouting?” Mack called from outside the bedroom.

  “I’ll be right down,” she called. Guilt sliced through her. Rats! She’d lost track of time and it was after nine. She donned black slacks, a black-and-brown striped cardigan sweater and hurried to the parlor. Mack was pacing the floor. He looked up, his face a dull shade of crimson. It made the scar along his right cheek stand out in a thin, white line.

  “I thought I made myself clear about being prompt.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, brushing her hand through her limp hair, which she hadn’t had a chance to dry or style. “I got up early and fell asleep after showering.”

  “Ghosts keeping you up?” he asked, but there was no hint of humor.

  She tried a smile but it died under the face of his cold stare. “Maybe.”

  He didn’t react. “Let’s work on those boxes over there.” He pointed to a line of sagging boxes under the window. “I think Helen had started working on them. I’m going back upstairs.”

  “Did Peg…”

  “Yes.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m going to make a quick apology for my sister, because she’s acting on my orders. I need someone to type and organize, not ask questions or make judgments. I thought I’d made that clear the last few days.”

  Stacey felt deflated as he walked out the door. No wonder Helen had grown discouraged. He was treating her as though she was some sort of robot. She was tempted to tear up the notes Helen had written. Instead, as she sorted through the first box, she removed Helen’s pages she’d hidden in the pocket of her sweater and slid them into the file.

  Drawing a deep breath she crossed to the intercom and pressed the talk button. “Mack? I found some notes.”

  “What?” He sounded irritated.

  “I think I found Helen’s notes about Lily.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  Mack’s handsome face was expectant as he entered the room. She explained where she’d found them and waited as he read the pages.

  A smile crossed his face. In fact he began to beam. He turned to Stacey and caught her up in a spontaneous hug. Just as quickly he moved away from her, but his smile didn’t diminish.

  “Good going! You’re exactly right. Did you see anything like that in the papers you sorted yesterday?”

  “No. But there may be more in this box. I noticed they were crammed in there, like she was trying to stuff them somewhere. Maybe she was hiding them?”

  His face stiffened into a stern mask of displeasure. “Hiding them from whom?”

  “I don’t know. Someone who was trying to keep her from finding the truth?”

  He grew very still, the papers gripped in his left hand. When he spoke his voice was very soft, but hard as steel. “Find out what truth?”

  “About Lily, about her death. That’s an interview with a bartender about Lily.”

  He lifted his right hand to his temple as though she was giving him a head ache and gestured for her to sit down at her desk. He pulled over the visitor chair to sit beside her. “There are a few things I need to tell you about Helen Stanton.”

  Her breath caught. What should she do if he answered all her questions? Quit and go home? But as she looked at the sadness in his blue eyes that only came to light when he was talking about Lily Feeney, she realized she couldn’t. He looked forlorn, like a lost boy. Would he be content forever to sit in this house writing books about dead people like Lily Feeney or the police detective, John Scotti? What about starting a new life for himself? She didn’t have much of one herself, but she couldn’t imagine leaving him buried here with no one but his grumpy sister and Mrs. D for company and infrequent visits from Carlos.

  “What about her?” she asked.

  He flipped through the pages and tapped them against his knee. “This is good work, but it’s not what she was hired to do. I know you probably think I’m an ogre for giving you rules and re-emphasizing things, but there’s a reason for it.”

  “Because of Helen? Didn’t you like her?”

  His face burst into a smile, and she was pleased to see that. “I enjoyed her enthusiasm when she started. She was excited about the project. I think she figured I could get her a job in television after we completed this. She had a degree in communications.”

  Stacey knew that was why Helen had been excited about the opportunity to work with Mack. She had no reply and he went on as though he didn’t expect one.

  “Helen got very caught up in my interview with Greenlee and his claim that he didn’t kill Lily. As she organized John’s notes, she suddenly decided maybe he was telling the truth and then set out to prove that someone else did it. She was convinced she could find the real killer.”

  Stacey had started to surmise as much from Helen’s letters. Was that information in one of those sealed envelopes? “What did she find out?”

  He gestured at the cluttered room. “I don’t know. I told her, like I told you, that I wanted nothing to leave this room. I discovered she’d removed John’s notes to copy them for her own use. But she wasn’t hired to solve the damn case. Now the notes are missing.”

  Stacey couldn’t stop her smile. That was all so like Helen. “She was trying to show you she could be an investigative journalist, just
like you.”

  He ignored the comment, his voice growing grim. “She went to Los Angeles without my knowledge to track down people who knew Lily and interview them.”

  “It sounds like she was resourceful.”

  “That was a waste of my time and her money,” he said through gritted teeth. “I would have done those interviews myself, but in a different manner. I wanted to know about the lighter side of Lily’s life. Now these people may not talk to me or give me what I need.”

  “But they painted an honest picture of Lily.”

  He gripped the pages in his fist and pounded his leg with them. “This was not what I had in mind.”

  “Do you think she found something?” Stacey asked. “Is that why you’re so upset?”

  “What are you saying?” he asked, lips twitching into a sad smile. “That I’m angry because she found something I’d missed? Professional jealousy?”

  She touched his arm without thinking. “Maybe you’re still that investigative reporter but you don’t want to admit it?”

  He glanced down at her hand and she pulled it away with a mumbled apology. He lurched to his feet and walked to the door without looking back. “Keep going through those boxes. Let me know if you find anything else.”

  Chapter Six

  Following the tense morning, Stacey took a quick break after lunch. She needed to read through more of Helen’s letters so she put on her jacket and walked outside. Seeing Del in the greenhouse she turned toward the garage. Maybe she could find a spot to be alone.

  As she neared the long stone structure she heard shouts and a thud. Fearing someone in trouble, she burst into the side door. To her surprise, this wasn’t a part of the garage. It was a large open room with athletic equipment scattered about and one full mirrored wall. Hadn’t Del said something about a gym?

  Joe stood beside a hanging full length punching bag. He stood back and directed a kick at it, shouting as he did so. As he whirled, he saw her. He kicked the bag again, emitting another shout.

  “What do you want?” he asked.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Kick boxing,” he explained, launching another kick. “It’s the only good thing about coming out here. Del set this up for Mr. Mack, but he never uses it.”

  She examined the state of the art equipment—two treadmills, two stationary bikes, rows of weights, mats, an elliptical machine and another, smaller punching bag. “Would you teach me how to do that?”

  He blinked, looking at her as though she had lost her mind. “Why?”

  “Why not? I need the exercise. Is that such a strange request?”

  “You don’t look the type.”

  Actually she wasn’t, though she liked the idea of working out. Her mother’s complex had a gym she used regularly and she needed something to counteract Mrs. D’s cooking.

  As she watched Joe, the kick boxing appealed to her. Kendra did it in her cartoons. Maybe she needed to learn what went into actually doing it. “I’m going to get permission from Peg to use the gym and get changed, okay?”

  He grinned, shaking his shaggy hair. “They don’t mind since they don’t use the place. There are some clean shorts and t-shirts hanging on the wall, if you want.”

  Maybe it was better not to tell anyone. Stacey changed in an adjoining washroom and rejoined Joe. She attempted a kick at the bag and nearly lost her footing as she missed. Joe laughed and directed her. This time, her kick landed.

  “Ow!” she screeched, tumbling to her knees.

  Joe stood over her and smiled. “Not quite what you thought, is it?”

  She climbed to her feet, determined to try again. Another successful kick at the bag brought a searing pain to her calf and another cry.

  Joe took a deep breath. “Are you ready for me to show you how to do this?”

  “Show me.”

  Slowly he explained how to hit the bag with maximum impact, but less pain for her. He showed her how to properly position her legs and feet. By the time they quit after an hour of work, Stacey felt pummeled and exhausted, but she was smiling as she walked out the door. This was the sort of action Kendra/Helen would take.

  As they sat in the kitchen, sipping iced tea, Stacey looked at Joe. “Does your mother ever talk about Lily Feeney?”

  “Only to say she was a trouble maker who probably had it coming. I guess she stole Aunt Deena’s boyfriend or something.”

  “Are any of Lily’s relatives still around?”

  “Nah. They all moved away, but some of her school chums are still around. I think Mr. Mack talked to ’em.”

  “Do you think Lily or one of the Feeneys haunt Redfern Manor?”

  Joe looked up toward the high beamed ceiling. “Nah. All them old Feeneys died happy and rich. Lily wanted outta here so why would she come back? You saying you’ve seen ghosts?”

  Stacey drew a shuddering breath and shrugged. She didn’t think Joe would believe her about lights and shadowy images, but then he emitted a strange, guttural laugh.

  “Maybe it’s Helen Stanton.”

  Stacey’s face whipped toward him. “Why would she haunt Redfern Manor?”

  His brown eyes shifted back and forth across the table and when he spoke, he kept his voice just above a whisper. “What if she didn’t commit suicide? You know? What if she was murdered?”

  Stacey almost dropped her glass onto the table. “Why do you say that?”

  He glanced around again, as though afraid of being overheard and gestured with a palm to keep her voice down. “Sometimes I wonder. She ran off toward the quarry after a fight with Mr. Mack. Then later she’s found at the bottom of the cliff on the other side of the island? People said she mighta walked there, but it’s over five miles. She didn’t like walking in the woods. Why would she walk all the way to the other side of the island?”

  “Maybe someone drove her,” Stacey offered.

  “Or maybe she took a ride with the wrong person,” he added.

  “Joe!”

  Peg’s sharp voice from the dining room door drew them both up. “That is the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. Now stop it!” She glared at Stacey. “Shouldn’t you be working instead of sitting in here trading idiotic stories?”

  ****

  Stacey returned to the parlor feeling chagrined at Peg’s latest outburst of anger. Yet she couldn’t shake Joe’s comments. He seemed to have his own doubts about Helen’s death. She could hardly wait until their next kick boxing lesson. They’d agreed to meet again early the next morning and she intended to question him further.

  Would Peg tell Mack what they’d been discussing? He walked into the parlor in the late afternoon, giving no indication that he knew. He handed her several dictation tapes and set up the recorder so she could begin transcribing.

  In the middle of the explanation, her phone buzzed.

  Mack’s head jerked up. “What’s that?”

  “My cell phone.” She frowned at the instrument on her desk. It only worked every so often. Why now when he was around? She looked at the number in caller ID as it buzzed again. Phil. Rats! Just what she didn’t need with Mack sitting nearby.

  “Go ahead and answer it,” he said, though his voice was tense.

  Phil launched into a tirade the instant she said hello. “This is the craziest thing you’ve ever done. To take off to Washington and get a job without even talking to us about it.”

  “I needed work,” she began.

  “Listen, Stace, your mother and I have decided we’re coming to get you. Give us your address and we’ll be there tomorrow.”

  His peremptory tone bothered her, but she couldn’t argue at the moment. She looked over at Mack. His back was stiff. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Of course it is. When you come home we’ll resume our wedding plans.”

  “No, Phil!” Her voice rang out louder than she’d intended and she hopped to her feet. He was the one who had stopped their earlier plans, but she couldn’t continue this conversation with Mack listening.
She stepped to the door, hoping he’d understand and walked into the hall before resuming the conversation. “I’m fine, okay?”

  He didn’t answer and she rushed on. “I have a job and a place to stay. I don’t need help.”

  Again there was no answer and she lowered the phone. The screen read “call ended.”

  When had it hung up? When she walked out the door? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t have listened to her. She’d call back and leave a message. She changed the ring tone to silent and stepped back into the parlor to resume her work.

  Mack glanced up at her, his face a cool mask. “Something wrong?”

  Stacey attempted a smile. “Not really. Mack, can I ask a favor?”

  A fleeting shadow crossed his brow. “More time off?”

  “Not really. Um…it’s about the gym…do you mind if I use it?”

  He blinked rapidly, looking toward the door.

  She tried to smile though her face felt stiff. “See…I’m going to gain weight if Mrs. D keeps feeding me, so I need to work out. Why did you have it built?”

  He looked down at his folded right hand. “Physical therapy, they told me.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. How stupid. She should have guessed that. “Well, maybe we should build a workout schedule into our day?” The words rushed out. “Physical ther…exertion might be just the thing to help us both clear our heads.”

  He stared at her for a minute and then slowly a smile slid across his lips. “You may be right. Let’s start first thing tomorrow.”

  ****

  Stacey realized the next morning that with Mack’s presence she couldn’t question Joe, but it did improve the tension in their working relationship. He seemed to enjoy watching her kickboxing efforts and she was surprised to see he did have more mobility in his right side than she realized.

  There was one problem. After the second day he had been working out so hard, he was sweating profusely. He yanked off his t-shirt and fanned himself with his hand. She found herself staring at his hard chest, coated in a thin cover of sandy blond hair. He must have worked out fairly regularly because his stomach was flat and the muscles of his wide shoulders were muscular and thick. Her breath caught and he jerked his head up and their gaze met. She turned away quickly, her face growing warm.