Blackvine Manor Mystery

by Wendy Meadows

  “What’s that saying, ‘seeing is believing’? Well, I’m not seeing much around here that will help us find your mother.”

  Alexis turns her head away and contemplates the other side of the headstone he is leaning on.

  “What, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

  “No—” Alexis hushes him “—I’m listening.”

  Maxwell rolls his eyes. “Is the angel telling you something? I hope it’s about your mother.”

  “No, it’s about the woman who’s buried under that angel. She says the drunk driver who killed her visits every week. She’s glad he is sober now.”

  “Seriously? You looked up this woman’s name on your phone just to fake a point?”

  “His name is Peter.” A voice behind Maxwell makes him jump two feet in the air. The caretaker pauses to lean on his rake by the weeping angel.

  Alexis turns to him. “He still drives the same blue sedan; it reminds him every day.”

  The caretaker nods. “And he visits every week.”

  Maxwell shrugs. “A lot of people drive blue sedans; that was a lucky guess.”

  “She’s happy when he visits; she loves the wildflowers the best. He makes her proud.”

  The caretaker looks at Maxwell’s cynical frown. “I’ll tell Peter. A message like that can save a man’s life.”

  Maxwell ignores his comment. “Do you know if anyone by the name of Tennon is buried here?”

  “It doesn’t sound familiar but I can check the registry. Feel free to keep walking, living people are easy to find around here.” He continues on to his golf cart and drives off towards the main gates and office.

  Alexis can’t help a small smile as she and Maxwell continue to thread their way through the headstones. “Seems like my abilities might work outside Blackvine Manor after all.”

  “Why would that make you happy?”

  “Because now that I realize what I’m able to do, it would feel like losing my eyesight or ability to taste if it disappeared.”

  Maxwell makes a face. “Alright, how about another test? If you happen to see another ghost, let me know and I will check out the headstone before you can see it. Then we’ll see if you can give me any information that matches the engravings.”

  “It doesn’t work that way.” Alexis can feel herself getting nervous and tight again.

  “Just let me know. And I still say we try to find the lake this cemetery is supposedly named after.” Maxwell strikes out in a new direction.

  Alexis tries to distract herself and dissipate the pressure of Maxwell’s test idea. “You know, the caretaker was right; living people are easy to find around here. There is no one else around but us. Maybe that’s why Amelia was coming here.”

  “To get away from the living?”

  “No, to find something that Fenton hid. Lots of hiding places around here and no witnesses to see you bury it.”

  Maxwell scrubs his chin. “True. And repeat visitors are a normal thing for a cemetery.”

  Alexis doesn’t respond. Her attention is captured by a stocky man waving to her over to a tall, white headstone. “There’s your test.”

  Maxwell is surprised but goes to the front of the white headstone. “Alright, gimme anything you can.”

  “He’s a sailor, he has an anchor tattoo. He’s mad because he’s in his family plot instead of with his fellow servicemen.”

  “Name?”

  Alexis closes her eyes for a moment and sees the stocky man in uniform, “Cordon.”

  “Hey, there’s the caretaker.” Maxwell spins away from the headstone and goes to meet the caretaker on the gravel lane.

  She is about to confirm what she sensed when Maxwell returns with a shrug. “No Tennons buried here. I asked him to look into the security files to see if there’s a report on her trespassing. He’ll get back to me.”

  Alexis comes around to the front of the white headstone. Underneath the engraving of an anchor is the name Robert Cordon.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ALEXIS FLINCHES SHARPLY, ENTANGLING HERSELF further in her quilt. She struggles wildly for a moment before realizing it was just a dream. Relaxing back against her pillows, she tries to recapture the details of the dream before it disappears.

  The dream started off warm and sweet with Amelia tucking her into bed. They were in their small house, in her room with white clouds painted on blue walls. Alexis painted over those clouds when she was ten, after realizing Amelia was never coming home again.

  Alexis sits up and rubs both palms over her eyes. It’s not a dream; it’s a memory, one of her last of Amelia before she left. Her mother tucked her into bed, sang her favorite song about the blackbird, and turned off the light. In the glow from the hallway, Alexis saw her mother clap her hands over both ears. Amelia turned around, her mouth open in shock.

  “Delia?”

  Now Alexis can’t separate the memory from the dream. Did her mother really call out Delia that night? All Alexis can remember is how her mother whispered to someone she could not see. How she cried and apologized. How she promised she would be there soon. Amelia didn’t know her daughter was awake and watching. She didn’t know how the kiss she blew to her would be the last solid memory Alexis would have of her.

  Alexis wraps herself back up in her quilt as the memory replays in her mind. There’s something strange about it and she closes her eyes to see it all again: her mother’s silhouette against the glow from the hallway, Amelia crying and apologizing. Alexis remembers being scared as her mother talked to someone she couldn’t see.

  Her eyes fly open. The hallway in her old house had a hideous fluorescent light that everyone hated. Amelia never turned it on at night because it was too bright and made a faint buzzing sound. Alexis had been comfortable in the dark and didn’t object. So what was the glow?

  Despite her clock radio telling her it is only 2 a.m., Alexis jumps up and goes to sit at her built-in vanity. The white-painted drawers are just the right size for make-up, jewelry, or a well-used paperback book. She pulls out her mother’s book on extrasensory abilities and starts flipping through the pages. Her mother used it as a reference but also as a diary of sorts, recording her own experiences in the margins.

  Alexis skims through the clairvoyance chapter until she finds the tightly written note she is looking for.

  A. J. won’t confirm what I see. He slipped once and asked me about a glowing light. It was her ghost but I said nothing.

  Alexis puts her head in her hands, trying to fit the pieces together. A ghost visited Amelia and Alexis was there to see it. She remembers the promises her mother made, promises Alexis now knows she made to Delia.

  She is standing up but doesn’t remember pushing back her chair. Her hand holds up the paperback book and she realizes it’s open to a section on spirit possession. The reflection in the mirror is strange, a man’s suit coat, Alexis thinks, before turning around and leaving her apartment.

  Somehow she has tweezers and a bobby pin in her hands, approaching her neighbor’s apartment silently despite the creaking hardwood floors of the hallway. The lock slides open and she enters, moving straight towards her neighbor’s dresser and jewelry box. They are on vacation, she knows, and their little dog is at the kennel. She moves quickly through each drawer, unable to stop herself.

  Keeping her breathing slow and even, Alexis takes stock of what is happening. A spirit is determined to show her the ease with which he is able to take what isn’t his.

  “Fenton,” she whispers though her voice sounds strange.

  Alexis starts to struggle, willing him to leave her body, clenching her fists though an unseen force still moves them. She lurches into the bathroom, facing the mirror in the dark. A man with salt and pepper hair smoothes down the part in their hair before smiling wickedly.

  “Accomplice,” Alexis hears herself whisper.

  Using all her strength, she forces herself to turn on the faucet. Her arms push back as she tries to lean down but finally she wins. S
plashing cold water on her face, she cries out triumphantly. The spirit leaves her body and she is left standing in her absent neighbor’s apartment with the water running.

  “Alexis?” a timid voice calls from the door.

  She pats her face dry quickly and meets George at the door, turning on lights as she goes. “Hi, George. What are you doing up so late?”

  “I was sleeping, until my EMF meter went crazy. What are you doing?” He is peering over her shoulder, dressed in striped pajamas and thick socks.

  “Taking care of the Johnsons’ plants.” She catches his cocked eyebrow and realizes there are no plants in the apartment.

  He ruffles his black, curly hair. “At two in the morning?”

  Alexis has a sinking feeling. She didn’t get rid of Fenton’s spirit; he abandoned her to take the blame. If she’s arrested for stealing then she won’t be digging around at Blackvine Manor, seeing and hearing things he might not want her to know. Glancing down, she is horrified to see Mrs. Johnson’s rings decorating each of her fingers. She slips her hands in the front pocket of her sweatshirt before giving George a sheepish look.

  “I guess if anyone would believe me, it’d be you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “ALICE, THIS IS THE FRIEND I was telling you about. Alexis, this is Alice Manetti.” George rubs his hands together, excited for the introduction.

  Alice Manetti, the psychic medium, reaches out a hand and gives Alexis a strong shake. The diminutive woman quickly makes herself at home in Alexis’ studio apartment, tossing off her red leather coat and unwrapping an excessively long silk scarf from her neck. Underneath she is wearing a long-sleeved black sweater and black jeans. Silver bangle bracelets and her bright white pixie cut hair flash as she moves around the room.

  “Did George tell you I’ve been here before?” She doesn’t wait for anyone to answer. “Except you are having different experiences than the other woman.”

  Shaking back the silver bangles, Alice takes Alexis’ hands. “You are hearing things and seeing things. For such a new discovery you are accepting it very well.”

  “My mother had similar experiences and I have her sort of diary.” Alexis finds herself opening it up as she looks down into Alice’s bright black eyes.

  “Yes, yes, it’s good to have a reference. Though there is always a gap between pages and practice. We will practice.” She pats Alexis’ hand and pulls her down onto the red sofa.

  Alice begins breathing in deep, audible breaths, encouraging Alexis to join her. They breathe and exhale; Alexis feeling herself focusing until George comes clattering across the room with his video camera.

  “Sorry, don’t mind me.”

  Alice waves a hand at him. “George films some of my client conversations as payment for the séance I performed here. The energy in here is rather different this time.”

  She releases Alexis’ hand and claps her own, holding them up as if they are still reverberating cymbals. Alice then listens, turning her head slowly and deliberately, before clapping again.

  “Yes, yes, we will get to all of that. First, though, you have no ritual. You have no way.” Alice turns her sharp eyes on Alexis again. “You cannot control when spirits contact you.”

  “No, it pretty much happens at random. More around here than anyplace else.”

  She shakes her silver bangles at George. “Like this one. Always inviting spirits to communicate but never protecting himself. You will get hurt, Georgie; soon if you are not careful. I see it.”

  “I meditate?” Alexis volunteers, thinking of the chapter she reads from her mother’s book.

  “Not enough. First you must summon your own energy. Then you open up the space for communication. Lastly, you always, always, clear the space and close up the energy.” Alice rolls up her sleeves.

  “First I breathe, building my own energy; a different force than you use for running errands or walking a flight of stairs. It is from deeper inside and stronger. Then I listen to the room, some people cast circles but I concentrate on one room at a time. I clap my hands to send my energy out to each wall, making it my own space. When I am finished I walk around the room, touching each wall to take my energy back. Then I wrap my scarf around and around. It is easiest to meld mental protection with physical actions.”

  Alexis quickly scribbles notes in the index margins of her mother’s book, knowing she will have to practice herself later. When she is done Alice stands up, ready to communicate with the spirits of Blackvine Manor.

  Alice takes deep breaths, exhaling slowly, before turning to the first wall. She claps and holds her palms out to the wall, letting the echoing thought of the sound fill the space. When she has clapped in each direction she settles down cross-legged on the floor and listens.

  “I do not see the way you see. I close my mind and through the dark come flashes, like my inner eye opens on other scenes. You see with your eyes open.”

  “And I can sometimes hear things ghosts say,” Alexis tells her.

  “I say spirits because there are different types and, to me, ghosts are just one type.” She closes her eyes and breathes in. “In fact, that is the answer you are seeking. There was a wraith.”

  “What is a wraith?” George can’t help but ask.

  Alice opens her eyes and tells him, “A wraith is a spirit of one recently departed or one about to die. You’ve seen one before?”

  Alexis turns to George. “I remember my mother talking to someone I couldn’t see right before she left. It could have been Delia right before she died. After that night my mother started spending time here before she disappeared.”

  “Delia. She has spoken to you,” Alice assumes aloud.

  “Yes, but as a ghost, right? She had been dead for a long time before leading me to her body.”

  Alice closes her eyes, still nodding. “And someone else is here. He is strong. He has already used your curiosity against you.”

  George snorts. “He almost used her to steal a fist full of rings.”

  “And this is why you must practice. No one cares if all you do is say ‘abracadabra’ and spin in a circle. As long as your intention is to build up your energy, contain it, and then reclaim it, you will protect yourself from unwanted spiritual contact.”

  Shaking her finger at both of them, Alice walks around the studio apartment touching each wall before wrapping her long silk scarf around and around her neck.

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Manetti.” Alexis shakes her hand again.

  “You are very interesting, different abilities than mine. We should talk more. After you practice.” Alice kisses her on the cheek.

  “Thank you, Alice. I’ll see you on Wednesday?” George inquires.

  “Yes, at the Roberts’. Another séance. Though I am serious, if you do not take steps to protect yourself you will get hurt too.”

  Alice throws on her red leather coat before turning one last time to Alexis. “He keeps showing me a willow tree. He wants you to meet him at the willow. Protect yourself first. Practice!”

  Chapter Twenty

  “YOU’RE A TERRIBLE DETECTIVE.”

  “HOW’S that? I have the office.” Maxwell motions to the sparse furnishings with his coffee.

  Alexis makes herself comfortable in one of the straight-backed chairs. “That smells great.”

  “Glad you think so because I happened to get two and I’m not sure I need that much caffeine.”

  She grins at him as she grasps the hot coffee with both hands. “I like this.”

  “So, are you going to tell me why I’m a horrible detective or do I need to guess?” Maxwell puts his feet up on the desk, his dark eyes sparkling at her.

  “We only asked about Amelia when we went to Lakeview Cemetery. You didn’t even think to ask about Delia or Fenton for that matter.”

  She catches Maxwell admiring her legs before he answers, “I got distracted.”

  “Come on, I’m serious.”

  “I’m serious too. You distracted me with
all your hocus pocus.”

  Alexis sips her coffee, hoping its warmth can soothe the twinge in her heart. “Well, are you going to follow up on it?”

  “Actually, I already did.” Maxwell slaps his feet back on the floor and reaches for a notebook. “The caretaker called me back. Your mother broke into the cemetery after hours. The security guard reported her behavior as unstable.”

  “Go ahead, just tell me.”

  “She was yelling at someone though the guard states she was definitely alone. She then started waving a shovel around and screaming. The guard was injured trying to subdue her and that’s why the police were called. I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Alexis sips at her coffee.

  “I thought that might be hard to hear.”

  She snorts quietly. “Well, where you think it sounds crazy, I think it sounds like she was having an altercation with a spirit.”

  He stiffens in his desk chair. “Right. So, are you heading back to the cemetery?”

  “ Actually, I’ve got plans today.”

  “New man in your life?”

  Alexis smirks. “You could say that. How about you, do you have plans?”

  “Unfortunately. If I didn’t I’d force you to break your date and go out with me.”

  Maxwell slams the door of his car, startling Alexis before she can knock on the door of the craftsman house. “Please tell me I’m having crazy visions like you and I’m not really seeing this.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Otto is my grandfather, remember?” He joins her on the steps and knocks on the door.

  “Well, stop calling me crazy or I’ll set Johnny on you.”

  The German Shepherd appears at the window and starts barking. He froths and lunges at the window, eyes riveted on Maxwell.

  “Seriously, why are you here?”

  Alexis shrugs. “Otto invited me.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. And are you really going to ask an old man if he buried his murdered wife at Lakeview Cemetery?”