Blackvine Manor Mystery

by Wendy Meadows

  She swallows, not liking the sound of her plan explained aloud. “I’m just here for lunch?”

  Otto throws open the door, not bothering to stop Johnny’s barking. “I’m so glad you could both make it. Come on in. The grill is already going and my nosy neighbors will be happy there’s someone here to supervise the old man and his fire.”

  Alexis takes his outstretched hand and walks inside, both of them leaving Maxwell to face the frothing German Shepherd.

  “Stand down,” Otto says over his shoulder and Johnny stops with a snort.

  Maxwell catches up with them as they head out to Otto’s back deck. “I’d think the neighbors would worry more about you inviting young women over.”

  “Well, you’re here too, ain’t you? I thought he was a quick one but maybe I was wrong.”

  Alexis laughs. “It sounds like you’re trying to play cupid?”

  Otto pulls out a chair for her before dropping into one across from her. “What’s the harm at my age? Max might not believe me but I was in love once.”

  “Guess I’ll put the steaks on?” Maxwell ignores them both, taking a beer from the cooler.

  The two men are stiff around each other and there are awkward pauses but Otto’s charm is undeniable. He sips at a beer, supervising every move Maxwell makes over the grill, and making Alexis laugh. By the time the steaks are done and everyone sits down, they are both relaxed enough to talk more.

  “How did you meet Delia?” Alexis chooses a safe topic.

  Otto spins his fork through his salad without eating. “I worked at a gas station near her house. She used to smile at me out the window of her father’s car.”

  “Maxwell told me her family didn’t approve?”

  He lays the fork down and takes another sip of beer. “A pump jockey whose best prospect was the police academy. Yeah, they weren’t real excited.”

  “And he wants me to join the academy,” Maxwell scoffs.

  “Isn’t that the only way to become a detective?” Alexis asks him innocently.

  Otto perks up. “So, you may make something out of yourself yet?”

  Maxwell chews on his steak before reminding Alexis, “I thought I was a terrible detective.”

  Alexis decides to risk it. “Only because you can’t even figure out where to take Delia’s flowers. He thought it would be nice to take flowers to her grave.”

  “Sure, sure. They were always close.” Otto nods absently.

  “Does she have a grave?” Maxwell asks, too interested to be mad at Alexis’ rough segue.

  “Not at first, not when we didn’t know, but now she’s over in Lakeview. Her family has a plot there.” Otto’s voice is hoarse.

  “It’s a lovely cemetery. I remember a beautiful willow tree there,” Alexis comments.

  “Under the willow!” Otto suddenly yells, kicking over his chair as he stands up, “I saw you with him under the willow!”

  Maxwell jumps up. “Who are you talking to?”

  “You lied to me. I saw you with him. Are you trying to make a fool out of me in front of the entire department?” Otto shouts, his face twisted with rage.

  Alexis holds her breath, seeing Delia in front of him, her face wet with tears.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  GEORGE SLOUCHES DOWN ON THE red sofa next to her. “And then what happened?”

  “It took Maxwell forever to get Otto calmed down. He finally had to give him a sedative. He apologized to me, explaining that Otto has been showing signs of dementia for a while now. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I saw her too.” Alexis covers her eyes with the palms of her hands.

  “You don’t think its dementia?”

  “No,” she uncovers her eyes and blinks, “I think Delia is appearing to him because the anniversary of her death is coming up. But Maxwell thinks I’m faking all of this so I didn’t say anything.”

  George sits up and turns to face her. “If it makes you feel any better I have hundreds of people online telling me I’m a liar.”

  Alexis rolls her head towards him. “It might. Tell me more.”

  “After Alice left, I went out to record footage of the fountain. It turned out to be the most amazing stuff I’ve captured yet. Orbs moving around the fountain to the bench, they appear out of nowhere, there’s no way they could be faked. And then there is the same mist I first saw.”

  “That’s great, George.”

  He nods. “Yeah, I thought so at first but now I’m getting all these comments telling me to take it down. People are calling it a hoax.”

  Alexis sits up. “Why? You said there was no way it could be faked.”

  “Except in the middle of the footage is a cut-in image that I didn’t put there. I don’t know if I got hacked or what. Exactly halfway through what I recorded a gravestone appears.”

  “And people seriously think you added it? What’s the point of putting a random gravestone into a genuinely spooky scene?” Alexis gets up and heads to her computer.

  She has his website bookmarked and clicks on the latest video link. A ticker marks 437 comments posted. The video starts playing and Alexis watches intently. The orbs are amazing, forming directly on-screen with no hints of other light sources or reflections. The mist is eerie and as she squints she swears she can see a hand reaching out. Then there is a hitch in the recording.

  “Wait, did I miss it?”

  George takes over. “Here let me pause it so you can see.”

  The footage plays again and George clicks at just the right second. A weather-beaten gravestone appears and Alexis gasps.

  “What, what did I miss?” George asks, getting closer to the computer screen to study the image.

  “It says Willow!”

  He runs his fingers through his wild hair. “Does that mean something?”

  Alexis rings her hands. “Otto admitted he had Delia buried at Lakeview Cemetery. Maxwell and I went there following that clue about my mother. So, I was just politely commenting that I’d seen a lovely willow tree there and he went ballistic.”

  She paces back and forth. “He was accusing her of meeting someone there. It had to be Fenton. Otto was screaming at her about making a fool out of him in front of the whole department.”

  George is listening but he can’t help scrolling through the comments. “Some people think a spirit is using my footage to communicate. Like they had to get it across so badly they found a way to imprint a memory during my recording.”

  “Is that possible? It could be possible.”

  He sighs. “Other people are saying I’m the worst editor they’ve ever seen and that all my work is amateur crap.”

  Alexis reads over his shoulder. “That one says ‘stay away from Willow. Don’t look for what isn’t yours.’ Can ghosts leave comments?”

  George slumps back down on the red sofa. “I don’t know anymore. Have you been practicing what Alice told you?”

  “I think I’ve decided on it.” Alexis comes to stand in front of him.

  “I do the breathing like she showed us. Then I make a circle with my arms.” She twists all the way to the left reaching both hands out behind her then swings slowly around until she twists all the way to the right. “This way if I don’t want people to know what I’m doing I just look like I’m stretching.”

  George nods. “Channeling under the radar, I like it. And how are you going to bring it all back in and protect yourself?”

  She smiles. “I just spin in a circle the opposite way. And for protection, I put on this necklace. It’s black onyx.”

  He gets up and shuffles to the door. “Then keep practicing. Good night.”

  “Wait—” Alexis catches him at the door “—have you come up with something for your protection?”

  George smirks. “I don’t need protection, I’m just the cameraman.”

  “I know this will sound crazy—” she slaps him as he sticks out his tongue “—but what if Delia did use your footage to send a message. What if Willow is a clue that someone doe
sn’t want us to know about?”

  “If it’s a clue, take it to Maxwell. All I did was record a broken fountain at night.”

  George salutes her and heads down the hallway to his apartment. Alexis waits at her door, worrying, before slowly shutting it and wandering over to her window. Pulling back her chevron imprinted gray and white curtains, she sees his light come on across the courtyard. He never pulls his shades all the way and she can see him stumbling across his camera equipment.

  Not wanting to be nosy, Alexis goes to put water on for a cup of tea. When she returns to her living room she can’t help but peek out the curtains again. The kettle starts to whistle as Alexis claps her hands to her mouth and tries not to scream. Across the courtyard she sees an invisible force pick up George’s tripod and swing it at the back of his head. He falls to the ground as his cameras turn on him, recording the tripod swinging like a metal club.

  Alexis tears open her door and, leaving the kettle screaming, she sprints to save her friend from the unseen attacker.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “AND HOW EXACTLY DID THIS happen?” The nurse stands in front of George with a clipboard in her hands.

  He looks up at Alexis from under his icepack and pleads with his non-swollen eye.

  “He was mugged outside our apartment building. I think they had a pipe or something,” Alexis tells the skeptical nurse.

  “Well he’s going to need a few stitches. The doctor will be a little while.”

  “Great, thanks,” George mumbles.

  The nurse cocks an eye at him. “Would you like me to ask the police to come in? An officer is already here finishing up a report with a stabbing victim.”

  Alexis steps in again. “Actually, we have a friend on the force and I’m going to call him. Thanks though.”

  The nurse shrugs and ducks out through the curtain surrounding George’s hospital bed. A man with a beer bottle concussion is moaning in the next bed over and two beds down a middle-aged flu patient dry heaves in between whimpers. The other emergency room patients are quiet or unconscious.

  George whispers, “Thanks again. I have no idea what I would say to a police officer. An angry ghost beat me with a tripod because I may have accidentally picked up a clue to his hidden jewel stash if we’re thinking of the right dead person?”

  Alexis perches on the edge of the bed. “I think you should worry about what you’re going to tell Alice. You think you’re going to follow her advice now?”

  He winces. “Why don’t you get me one of those protection crystal necklaces along with some pain killers?”

  “You know, I actually saw some in the hospital gift shop.”

  “You had time to window shop while I was bleeding in the waiting room?”

  She smiles. “Think you can handle getting stitches without me?”

  “No, hurry back,” George squeaks.

  “What happened to ‘I don’t need protection. I’m just the cameraman’?”

  He gives her a pathetic puppy dog eye from under his icepack and she has to promise to hurry. After going down two wrong hallways, Alexis finds her way to the main entrance of the hospital. The small coffee shop there has a line even at 11 p.m. but the gift shop is closed. She’s waiting in line to buy George a giant oatmeal cookie when her phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Wait, are you out? And here I thought I’d be waking you up.” Alexis can hear Maxwell sulking through the phone.

  “Yup,” she tells him, “I’m out on a hot date at the emergency room with George.”

  “Really? He had an accident filming an empty room?”

  She scowls and holds the phone away from her ear to order the cookie before saying, “Yeah, something like that. He’s getting stitches in a minute so I’ve gotta run.”

  “No, wait, is he okay? Barry called me to let me know an ambulance came to Blackvine Manor. What happened?”

  “You won’t believe me or you’ll call me crazy.”

  Maxwell sighs. “Well George can corroborate your story when I get there and that will make it more believable.”

  “Whoa”—Alexis winks at the barista as she pays for the cookie—“Why are you coming here?”

  “You arrived in an ambulance; you’ll need a ride home.”

  Alexis stops in the hallway and tips her head up to the florescent lights. He’s right but she can’t bear to agree with him.

  “See you in ten,” Maxwell tells her and hangs up.

  George is wincing under the iodine wipe down before his stitches when Alexis pulls back the curtain and rejoins him. “Gift shop closed?”

  “Yup. Good news or bad news first?”

  “That wasn’t the bad news?”

  Alexis takes his hand while the doctor starts the stitches. “The good news is I bought you an oatmeal cookie. It’s giant and has chocolate chips.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “The bad news is Maxwell called and he’s on his way to pick us up.”

  George whimpers. “That’s not bad. He’s a good guy. Skeptical but good.”

  The doctor interrupts. “The good news is that you only needed six stitches. You were unconscious when the ambulance arrived?”

  “Yes, he was.” Alexis shivers as she remembers.

  “But the report says you gained consciousness en route and you were speaking clearly by the time you arrived: all good signs. I’ll send you home with some literature about concussions. You’ll have to keep an eye on him tonight. Other than that, you are very lucky.”

  “Yeah,” George tells the doctor, “the muggers didn’t even get my wallet.”

  Maxwell whips back the curtain. “You were mugged?!”

  The doctor steps around Maxwell. “The nurse will be back in a minute with your pain killers and the concussion pamphlet.”

  “Thanks, doc.”

  “You’re right”—Maxwell crosses his arms in front of his chest—“I don’t believe you. Nobody gets mugged in front of Blackvine Manor.”

  When they return to George’s apartment, he limps over to his computer and shows Maxwell his website.

  “So, you’re telling me a ghost embedded a picture of a gravestone to your video, ruining your credibility as a warning?” Maxwell is very skeptical.

  “And when he didn’t listen to good advice”—Alexis prods George—“the ghost returned for a more physical warning.”

  Maxwell notices all the comments underneath George’s posted video. “A lot of people have seen this. Whoa, your website is very popular. That’s insane!”

  “Thanks,” George groans before collapsing on his Futon.

  Alexis, feeling the prickles of irritation at Maxwell’s continued disbelief, has a sudden idea. “Insane or not, I’m sure your potential buyer would be very interested in the video.”

  Maxwell makes a face at her. “Luckily you don’t know who he is.”

  “Actually, I know him better than you do. And unless you help me follow my own ‘crazy’ lead, I will show him all the evidence of how haunted this building is.”

  “He won’t care, he’s going to tear the place down,” Maxwell tries to say confidently, “but if you’re going to do something crazy you should probably have someone to watch your back. Where are we going?”

  Alexis smiles. “Back to Lakeview Cemetery.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  MAXWELL GETS CAUGHT UNDER THE fence and comes up covered in dirt, “You really want to follow in your mother’s footsteps, don’t you? First all the clairvoyant stuff and now the arrest for trespassing.”

  “Shh,” Alexis whispers, clutching her black onyx necklace.

  “Wait, why are you nervous? Isn’t this supposed to be part of your deal now, graveyards at night and spooky stuff?”

  She smacks him on the chest. “You’re not the one who’s going to see spirits. They don’t exactly ask me permission before they appear.”

  “Hmm, you might want to work on that,” Maxwell tells her as he turns on a small flashli
ght. “Now is probably a good time.”

  They start walking and Alexis tries not to flinch at every little sound. She holds tight to the black onyx, telling herself over and over again that she is protected and not open to communicating.

  “Any idea how to find one headstone in all this?” Maxwell whispers loudly.

  “Actually, yes. The image on George’s video had a year on it. After he cleaned it up and zoomed in he said it read 1893. So, we’re heading to the oldest section.”

  “Great, the longest hike to the spookiest spot. Wanna play the same game as last time?”

  Alexis stomps past him. “You mean the one where I proved my abilities and you completely ignored it?”

  “Alright”—Maxwell shrugs and follows her—“I haven’t figured out how you did that. A reflection off my sunglasses?”

  “It was cloudy and I’ve never seen you in sunglasses. Why can’t you just believe me?”

  “Look, it’s not that unreasonable for me to want a little more evidence before I jump on the crazy train.”

  Alexis starts walking faster. She can feel a buzzing around her and there are faint flashes of blue light. The more irritated she gets, the less focused she is on protecting herself and spirits are starting to break through.

  “Why not just let me sell the place?” Maxwell asks her.

  “I like my studio.”

  “You think it’s the only way to find your mother. Just like you’re clinging to this whole clairvoyant thing because you think it’s the only way you’ll connect with her. Why not hire a real private investigator? Between a P. I. and my grandfather’s connections, I’m sure she’ll turn up.”

  Alexis spins to face him. “Did Otto suggest that? Did it ever occur to you that he wants her found because she’s the only witness to what he did? Maybe I have these abilities just so I can find her without his help. Maybe I don’t need your help either!”

  She storms off, clicking off her flashlight and easily losing him among the tall headstones. Five hundred feet away from where she left him, Alexis regrets her rash decision. A young man stumbles out from behind a black granite headstone and reaches his hands out to her.