A Case of Imagination

by Jane Tesh

  “Well, he’s welcome in Celosia, and you, too, dear. Are you a consultant, too?”

  “In a way. I’m a private investigator.”

  Hayden smiled. “So you weren’t kidding about solving mysteries.”

  “Actually, I’m looking for work, if you hear of anyone needing my services. I was just talking with Evan James about the trouble he’s having with the pageant.”

  Georgia shook her head. “Pageants. Silly things.”

  “I don’t know much about them,” Hayden said, “but if you can help Evan, that would be great. He worries about every little thing.”

  “Like someone else I know,” Georgia said.

  A small, hunched man slid two copies of TV Guide onto the counter and spoke to Hayden in a low voice. “Hear you have ghosts.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said. “How did you find out?”

  The man tapped his forehead, his long mustache drooping. “The alien network is always humming with news.” He nodded wisely and looked both ways before adding, “Want my advice?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He lowered his voice even further. “Bread crumbs.”

  Okay.

  “Any particular kind?” Hayden asked.

  “White works best. You sprinkle them near all entry ways. Ghosts won’t come in.”

  “Thanks, I’ll try it.” He rang up the magazines and put them in a bag.

  The man handed him several limp, faded dollars. “I’m going to a high council tonight. I’ll ask them what to do, and I’ll stop by some night. How about Friday?”

  “I’d appreciate that, Bummer.”

  Bummer nodded again and went out. Georgia came around to the register. “Mr. Stevenson was quite chatty.”

  “He was in the mood to talk, I guess.”

  “He likes you, Hayden. You’re always so patient with him.”

  “Well, I feel a little sorry for him,” he said. “Nobody believes his stories about being abducted by UFOs. What if he’s telling the truth? Stranger things have happened.”

  “Is his name really Bummer?” I asked.

  “He likes to be called that,” Georgia said. “He tiptoed through one too many mushroom fields in the Sixties, dear.” She patted Hayden’s arm. “I’m so glad I have Hayden to handle all my eccentrics.”

  Another customer came to the register, and Hayden went to help her. I found the magazine I wanted, paid and left the store.

  Across the street from Georgia’s Books was a drug store remodeled to resemble a drug store of the Fifties, complete with soda fountain, juke box, ceiling fans, and booths with red vinyl seats. I sat down on one of the red vinyl stools at the counter. Gregory Prill got up from a booth and sat on the stool beside me.

  “Allow me to buy you a drink, Ms. Maclin. I must atone for my boorish behavior in the bookstore.”

  “No problem,” I said.

  He snapped his fingers at the girl behind the counter. “Annie. Two Cokes, please, and make them sing.”

  Annie rolled her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  Gregory Prill fixed his bulging gaze on me. “Now then. Tell all. No secret is safe in Celosia. You’ve been seen on the street, so the town is abuzz. Who are you, and who is the cute man with you?”

  I handed him one of my cards. “Madeline Maclin of Madeline Maclin Investigations. The cute man is my friend Jerry Fairweather, Val Eberlin’s nephew and new owner of the dreaded Eberlin house.”

  “Nicely put.” He frowned at the card, looked at me, and frowned again. “You know, my dear, I think I’ve seen you. I do enjoy frequenting these little beauty pageants, and if I’m not mistaken, you were once a queen.”

  Once a queen, always a queen. “Miss Parkland.”

  “I knew it.” His frown took in my tee shirt, jeans, and sneakers. “But, my dear, this ensemble is so not you. Are you in disguise?”

  “Let me put it this way,” I said. “If I never see another pageant, it will be too soon.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Burnout. Understandable.” He turned my card around in his long fingers. “This is a serious business, then. You’re for hire?”

  “Yes.”

  Annie brought our Cokes. Prill thanked her and passed me a straw. “Good. I have a job for you.”

  Two jobs in less than an hour. Could my luck finally be changing? “What can I do for you?”

  “Not for me, for Hayden. The poor boy’s convinced his house is haunted.”

  And two haunted houses in less than a day.

  “Why would he think that?”

  “Because he sees things that aren’t there. Dinosaur monsters, ghostly women outside his window.”

  Hayden needed to meet Jerry.

  Gregory Prill reached beneath the folds of his cape and pulled out his wallet. “I want you to find out what’s going on in Hayden’s house. Something’s set him off, and I’m certain it isn’t a ghost. If someone’s playing a trick, it’s a very cruel one. What’s your fee?” I told him, and he handed me some money. “A retainer, if you will.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “This is my first case of ghostbusting, but I’ll do my best.”

  Gregory Prill, oddly enough, fixed me with his big goldfish eyes and said something I didn’t realize I wanted to hear.

  “I know, my dear Madeline. I have every faith in you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  I stopped by the first grocery store I saw and bought milk, cereal, apples, cookies, and candy bars. On second thought, I added bread, peanut butter, ham slices, and cheese to my cart, as well as a carton of cola. Then I decided to visit the local Wal-Mart and buy a few necessities. With two cases to work on, I needed to stay in town. Maybe the Eberlin house wouldn’t be so bad for a couple of days.

  It was about 7:00 PM when I got back to the house. I was relieved to see that Olivia’s car was gone. Jerry was sitting on the front porch. He hopped up to help me with the bags of groceries.

  “Wow! What’s with all the stuff? Did I look that hungry?”

  I handed him the drinks. “I’m happy to report I’ve got two cases, so I’ll be staying over, at least for tonight, if that’s okay.”

  “That’s great. So, did the pageant guy hire you?”

  “Yes, he did. It looks as if someone doesn’t want the pageant to go on.” I tried to make my next question sound casual. “Is Olivia coming back?”

  “I don’t know. She went on for a while about what it would cost to fix the house. Then she had to get back to Parkland to work on a brief or something.”

  He didn’t seem too concerned. Maybe acquiring the house was the final blow to their relationship. If that was the case, and Jerry wanted to stay here, then I definitely wanted to stay here. I could learn to love this old dump.

  We carried the bags into the kitchen. I put the milk and apples in the refrigerator while Jerry found places for the cookies and candy on the counter. He opened the ham and cheese to make a sandwich.

  “You mentioned two cases, Mac. What’s the other one?”

  “You’ll like this. I stopped by the bookstore, and I met local poet Gregory Prill. He hired me to find out if his friend Hayden Amry’s house is really haunted.”

  As I’d expected, Jerry’s eyes lit up. “Another haunted house?”

  I sat down and reached for the bread. “If this detective thing doesn’t work out, I could always have a second career as an exorcist.”

  “I know all about exorcisms! You could be my sidekick.”

  “I was kidding, Jerry.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn there was something more than friendship in his eyes. Maybe Olivia had pushed too hard. Maybe she wouldn’t be back. Maybe he was finally seeing me as more than just good old Mac. Then he said, “I really need somebody to carry all the extra equipment. You have to make an exorcism look flashy.”

  I covered my disappointment by getting up to get a cola. “I doubt Hayden Amry’s house is haunted. He seems to be a nice guy, just a little nervous.”

  �
�We could do an exorcism if you think it would make him feel better.”

  “I’ll handle it, thanks.”

  Jerry took a bite of his sandwich. “What age is this guy?”

  “Our age.”

  “Buck-toothed and spotty?”

  “No, he’s quite handsome.”

  “Great. That makes two possibilities in town.”

  What was he talking about now? “Possibilities?”

  “For you.” When I frowned, he said, “Mac, it’s time you let yourself have a little fun. I know Bill was a louse, but not every man’s like that.”

  “I don’t really want to talk about this,” I said. Not now. Not when I’m sitting across from the man I want. The one incredibly obtuse man.

  “That protester, Ted Stacy. He looked like your kind of guy. Somebody who hates pageants as much as you do. Or this Hayden fellow. He works in a book store. You read books. A match made in heaven.”

  “He’s married.” Jerry as matchmaker was a more frightening idea than Jerry as exorcist. “Stop trying to fix me up.”

  “Okay.”

  “I don’t pressure you to marry Olivia, do I?” God forbid. When he raised his eyebrows, I had to ask, “Do you want to marry Olivia?”

  “Well, I’m not ready to make that leap yet. She is a bit hard to please.”

  At least he could see that. “If she’s hard to please now, she’s going to be hard to please later.”

  He took another bite of sandwich and chewed a while. Then he said something that really alarmed me. “She might be worth it.”

  I didn’t want anything else to eat. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to pick out a bedroom.”

  “You can have Uncle Val’s.”

  “No, thanks. That’s for the lord of the manor.”

  I took my Wal-Mart purchases upstairs and decided on the largest of the four guestrooms. I wasn’t exactly sleepy, but I wanted to sort things out. Today, I’d quit one job and found two more. Today, I’d tried to escape my pageant past and failed. But I was here in the house with Jerry. Maybe not in the same bedroom, but that was another problem for me to solve.

  ***

  Early the next morning a bizarre noise made my eyes pop open. For a moment, I had no idea where I was; then I remembered, I was in the large guestroom upstairs at the Eberlin house, haunted house number one. The bizarre noise sounded again. I realized it was a rooster crowing. And now a chorus of tweets and chirps and hoots greeted the rising sun. Ah, the peace and quiet of the country. I burrowed back under the covers. I’d slept well and I hadn’t been eaten by rats.

  I must have drifted back to sleep because the next sound I heard was “Scintille, diamant” floating up the stairs. Jerry was brought up listening to classical music, so he’s fond of opera, of all things. He knows several by heart, and if I don’t stop him, he’ll start at the beginning and sing one all the way through. Not that he can sing like a real opera singer. His voice is mid-range and usually in key, but I’ve heard The Tales of Hoffmann too many times. He also likes one called Paul Bunyan, which is kind of obscure and actually pretty funny, but I didn’t want to hear that, either.

  Better put a stop to it right now.

  I rolled out of bed. Time to get up and check my messages.

  No messages.

  Maybe there was something wrong with my phone. I put that at the top of my list of things to check when I got back to Parkland.

  My Wal-Mart items included underwear and a tee shirt that said, “Welcome to Celosia.” I slid on my jeans and the tee shirt and went downstairs, being careful to step over the loose boards.

  Jerry must have gotten up with the sun. The dusty rug from the foyer hung over the porch railing. The wooden floor glowed with a warm golden shine. He was dusting the mantel and singing something about trees.

  “Shut up,” I said.

  “Thought I’d paint this room light blue,” he said. “You can help.”

  “I have cases to work on, remember?”

  He gestured with his dust rag. “This place is perfect. It’s already spooky and mysterious. It’s just right for séances and readings. I’ll clean it up and start advertising. ‘Come to Eberlin House and Find Your Future.’ It’ll be brilliant.”

  “If you want it to be spooky and mysterious, don’t paint it light blue.” I yawned. “I need to find out why I’m not getting my messages. I thought I’d return Buddy’s car and pick up mine.”

  He followed me into the kitchen. “Did you eat all the apples?”

  “No.”

  “Well, they’re all gone, and the cereal, too.”

  I peered into the cabinets. “All that stuff I bought?”

  “The cereal and a whole bag of apples.”

  “Do you suppose some kids got in? It’s probably a rite of passage to spend the night in this house.” I checked the back door.

  “I’m sure I locked it,” Jerry said. “But whoever took the stuff left the cookies and candy bars.”

  Maybe Celosia was home to a roving gang of bored teenagers. “Kids today. What gets into them?”

  “No more of my food, that’s for sure.” He sat down at the table and opened the jar of peanut butter. “If you’re going to Parkland, will you pick up some of my things?”

  “Where can I find your things?”

  “At Buddy’s.”

  “Anything else you want me to bring you?”

  “More food.”

  “How about a welcome mat and a birdbath? One of those ceramic deer, perhaps?”

  “I need some blue paint and some brushes.”

  “Got any cash?”

  I don’t know how he does it, but despite having turned his back on the family treasure chest, Jerry always has a wad of bills in his pocket. He handed me about fifty dollars. “That oughta do it. Buy a little something for yourself, too.”

  “You’re too generous.” I put the money in my pocket. “Where did all this come from?”

  He took a bite of his sandwich and indicated his mouth was too full to answer.

  “It’s not from some scam, is it? You haven’t been playing with Jeff again, have you?”

  Jerry shook his head. I wasn’t sure I believed him, but then again, Constance Shawn had just paid for a séance. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later. Don’t let the rats get you.”

  “Same to you,” he said.

  ***

  Parkland’s morning rush was over, but there was still a lot of traffic. After the calm of the countryside, I found it distracting. Going into my apartment, I felt a touch of claustrophobia. Had it always been this cramped and dark? True, it had been my idea to move out and let Bill keep the house, but I regretted leaving the large sunny house with its deck and front porch. Regretted leaving the house, not Bill. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I was not a mother and never would be.

  I slumped in the armchair and stared at the blank wall in front of me. I hadn’t put up any pictures. Bill was a good photographer, and all the pictures in our house had been portraits he’d taken. Unfortunately, his favorite subject was children. He had photos of little girls making sandcastles and little boys hanging by their knees from tree branches and children feeding ducks and babies discovering their toes. He thought this would inspire me. It just made me thankful the children in our house were framed and on the walls.

  Maybe I should have been more sympathetic. Maybe I should have explored the possibility that I wouldn’t have become like my mother, that I would have been patient and kind and understanding with a child of my own.

  Maybe this little fit of pity was because I was tired and discouraged and because Jerry had all the insight of an amoeba. I sat down on the sofa and let myself wallow for about ten minutes, then I shook it off. Didn’t I have not one but two cases waiting for me in Celosia? I took a shower and washed my hair. I exchanged the Celosia tee shirt and jeans for my favorite yellow shirt and gray shorts and packed my suitcase for an extended stay in the country. I could commute from Parkland, but dammit,
I wasn’t going to give up on Jerry, and I wasn’t going to give up on me.

  Feeling one hundred percent better, I called Buddy to thank him for the use of the Bug. “It’s parked in front of my apartment.”

  “Thought Jerry had it,” Buddy said.

  “He’s staying in Celosia to take care of some business.”

  Buddy’s the type of big sloppy man most people would call a redneck. He’s proud of the label because most people also misjudge his intelligence. He knew right away what was up. “Another one of those stupid schemes of his?”

  “I’m going to try to talk him out of it.”

  “Why does the boy think he’s psychic, anyway? There’s no money in it.”

  “Sort of like the detective business.”

  “Yeah, how’s that going for ya?”

  “Pretty good. I’ve picked up some work in Celosia. I can stay with Jerry while I investigate.”

  There was a pause, and then Buddy said, “That’s a right good idea.”

  I wondered exactly what he meant by that. “Jerry says he left his things at your house. Shall I come get them, or do you want to bring them when you pick up the VW?”

  “I’ll bring ’em. Give me about twenty minutes.”

  I went out to my light blue Mazda. I had tossed the overnight bag in the back when a black Infiniti pulled up beside me and a voice said, “Madeline, hello!”

  Nancy Lundell waved from her window. “Have you been out of town?”

  “Just for the night,” I said.

  She adjusted her Raybans. “I thought maybe you’d moved.”

  “No.”

  “Well, my friend Alexandra has been trying to reach you. She wanted you to investigate something about a will. I don’t know the details.”

  “Has she been trying to call me? I think there’s something wrong with my phone.”

  “Yes, she called several times, and then she went over to your office yesterday, but you weren’t there.”

  Hell. “Please tell her I’m sorry I missed her. I’m heading over there now.”

  “I think she’s already hired Kent and Ross.”

  I could feel the heat rising up my neck. “Okay. Maybe next time.”