“I’ll bet it’s that guy on the phone,” said Granny. “The one that put her in the family way.”
“Raphael Brindisi,” Gino answered. “They began an affair about a year ago when we crossed paths at an international book conference. I thought it would burn itself out, like her other indiscretions, but it didn’t. They’ve been meeting not-so-secretly since then. I didn’t really want to go to Italy when he invited us, but I did want to see for myself if I had a chance of holding on to her. But it was clear I’d already lost.”
“Do you think he knows she’s pregnant?” Granny asked Emma. In answer, Emma gave a little shrug.
“Have you spoken to her?” Emma asked Gino.
“Yeah, just now. After I got the notice about the plane ticket, I texted her, letting her know I knew about the ticket and that it was okay, that maybe it was time for us to part ways since she’s so unhappy. I assured her I wouldn’t fight it or get nasty.” He looked like he was about to cry, but took several deep breaths and kept himself together. “She called me and told me she’s pregnant.”
“And there it is,” announced Granny.
“And it’s not yours?” Phil asked.
Gino shook his head. “I had a vasectomy right before Vanessa and I got married. She said she never wanted kids, but apparently Raphael does.”
Just then Leroy Larkin walked into view from the side of the house. He was going down the path toward the guesthouse, his backpack slung over one shoulder, and hadn’t seen them.
“Leroy,” Gino called out. “You’re back.”
Leroy looked startled at hearing his name and turned, his face changing to a wide smile upon seeing them lined up on the back porch. He changed his course and came up the back steps to greet them. “Kind of chilly to be out here, isn’t it?”
“Nothing like fresh air and a view of nature,” Gino said, waving the hand holding his mug in the direction of the lake.
“Would you like some coffee, Leroy?” Emma asked.
“No, thank you, I’m good,” Leroy answered. “I thought you guys were going to be gone this morning. There was only one car in the driveway when I pulled in.”
“A lot has gone on in the short time you’ve been away, my lad,” Gino announced.
“Ain’t that the truth,” quipped Granny. “It’s been a regular telenovela around here.” Emma shot Granny a stern look. “What?” snapped the ghost. “It’s not like anyone but you can hear me.”
“Let’s see,” Gino began. “First of all, Vanessa left me.”
Leroy’s face didn’t display any emotion. “Vanessa does this with regularity, Gino. She’s probably holed up in some luxury penthouse wearing down the numbers on your credit card. She’ll be back. She always comes back.”
“No, buddy, not this time,” Gino told him. “She’s leaving me for Raphael Brindisi.”
“That poser?” Leroy asked with clear contempt.
“Yep, that poser,” Gino confirmed. “But wait, there’s more,” he said, holding up a finger and sounding like a TV pitchman. “It seems this place is haunted, and finally”— he paused and held up another finger—“sometime in the last twenty-four hours someone was murdered at the old farmhouse.”
This time Leroy slumped against the post next to the steps. “Murdered?”
“Yep and for real,” Gino confirmed, “not from the pages of any book.”
“Oh my God,” Leroy said under his breath. “Who was it?”
“Some guy named William Otis,” Phil told him. “The police are over there now. Emma and I found him during our morning jog.”
“Wow!” Leroy shook his head. “I go away for two nights and all hell breaks loose.”
“And more news, but more pleasant, at least for me,” Gino said, this time with a small smile. “I’ve decided to lease this place at least through Thanksgiving, maybe longer. I think it will be a good place for me to work. I’m actually onto something a little different for my next book, thanks to Emma and Phil.” Gino paused and took another drink of his coffee. “Leroy, how does a book about a serial killer from the 1800s strike you?”
“A period piece?” Leroy asked with even more surprise. “Like Anne Perry? You’ve never done one of those.”
“No time like the present to try new things,” Gino countered with a grin. “It would take more research, but I think it could be very interesting. We might have stumbled upon a serial killer right here at Misty Hollow.”
Leroy started to roll his large wide-set eyes with great exaggeration before catching himself and plastering a more compliant look on his face. “Did you folks hold a séance or something?”
Granny drifted over to Emma. “I can see this guy’s not a believer.”
“More like something,” Gino said, his excitement turning quickly to annoyance. “Why don’t you get settled in and we can talk about it later. By the way, Marta will be gone for a few days. A friend of hers in Connecticut is quite ill and she’s gone to be with her. That’s where the other car is. So we’ll be fending for ourselves.”
Leroy gave his employer a long, almost feline look. “I’m sure we can make a few beds and heat some soup in her absence, Gino, especially with Vanessa gone.” Emma noted that Leroy had dropped the more formal Mrs. Costello now that Vanessa was out of the picture. “Let me drop off my gear and I’ll be back,” Leroy said, heading back down the steps.
He was at the bottom and starting down the path when Gino stopped him. “You know, Leroy, if you want to get working now you can start researching on your own. Look up everything you can on itinerant photographers in early 1800s New England—how they worked, equipment, processing of photos—stuff like that. And especially see what you can find on someone named Beau French. He was a real photographer hanged in 1884.”
“Beau French. Photographer. 1884,” Leroy said, making mental notes. “Got it. Would you mind if I worked from the cottage,” he asked, “considering you have guests?”
“Not at all, Leroy,” Gino told him. “We can circle back around at dinnertime to discuss your findings.”
In silence the three living people and one ghost watched Leroy go down the path to the guesthouse.
“I take it Leroy doesn’t care for your wife or for ghosts,” Phil said to Gino, breaking the silence.
“I’m not sure he cares for anyone, really,” Gino said, still watching Leroy. “Although they don’t like each other, he and Vanessa were bound by their common disdain for me, although Leroy tries hard to hide his.”
“Then why do you keep him on?” Phil asked. “I’d bet a ton of applicants would line up for a chance to work with you.”
Gino laughed slightly. “Because he’s a fantastic assistant. None better on research. And I’ve had some pretty bad ones over the years.” Gino sighed deeply, a man caught between a rock and a hard place. “It’s not really disdain on Leroy’s part, more like jealousy, and not just of me, but of most published authors. Leroy’s public persona is all smiles and rah-rah, but behind the scenes he can be pretty dark. I guess that comes with being a frustrated writer. I should know. I was once one myself.” Gino turned his attention back to his guests. “He’s written several novels but none have been picked up by a publisher or even an agent. I think when he got this job he thought I might be able to grease the wheels for him. I’ve tried, but no one I know, including my own agent, has been keen on Leroy’s writing. He even tried self-publishing but that was a disaster sales-wise.”
“He’s really that bad?” asked Phil.
Gino shrugged. “No, not really. His writing mechanics are solid as a steel skyscraper. Even better than mine, truth be told. But writing is so much more than knowing where to put a comma or how to structure a sentence. He just hasn’t found his voice.”
“You’re saying his writing has no heart?” Phil said.
“Yeah, that’s it. That’s exactly it,” Gino said
. “You can teach a writer mechanics and grammar, but you can’t teach voice. You can’t teach someone to leave their guts on the page. Until Leroy learns to do that, his writing will be mediocre and there’s plenty of that out there.” Gino look toward the guesthouse. “He and I have talked about that many times, but he just doesn’t get it.”
“Voice, schmoice. Are we going to sit around all day on our backsides?” asked Granny, tapping her foot with impatience. “We should be out looking for the Brown twins. We can’t help that Otis guy, but we can help those children.”
“Granny’s right,” Emma said. The two men turned to her, Phil expectantly and Gino with surprise. “She just said we shouldn’t be hanging around doing nothing when we could be out looking for Chester and Clarissa.”
Gino nodded. “True. No sense hanging around. Do you think Fran will still be up for it?”
Emma pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Fran. In minutes the search and the meeting at the donut shop were both back on, delayed but not forgotten.
“Now we’re back on track,” Granny said as she started to fade. “I’ll catch up to you later. I’ve got something to do.”
• CHAPTER EIGHTEEN •
THE donut shop was actually a charming locally owned bakery, not a chain as they had expected. When they entered, they were surrounded by the fragrance of baked goods mingled with the rich scent of coffee beans. Though warm and inviting, with colorful walls and soft music, the place was pretty empty. It wasn’t quite lunchtime and too late for breakfast. Over by the front window, a young man worked away at a laptop while sprawled in an old leather chair. Behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with short red hair was stacking freshly baked cookies in the counter display. Fran and Heddy were waiting for them at a large round table in the corner. On the table they’d spread out maps.
“You folks want coffee?” Gino said before sitting down. “I’m buying.”
“We already have tea,” Heddy answered, indicating large cups in front of them.
“I’ll take some hot chocolate, no whipped cream,” said Emma. “Thank you.”
“Decaf for me,” said Phil.
After Phil and Emma sat down, Fran asked, with concern and in a low voice, “Hasn’t Gino heard from his wife yet? He looks so haggard.”
Emma nodded. “Yes. She’s fine and he’s relieved but exhausted. It’s been a rough morning for him.”
“For all of you,” exclaimed Fran. “Finding that body and all. Any news on that?”
“Nothing,” Phil said. “But Sergeant Johnson asked us to stay close in case he has any more questions.”
“Ah, yes,” said Fran with a smile. “That would be Colby Johnson. He grew up in Whitefield. Only left for college, then came back to marry his high school sweetheart. Good man. Has a lovely family. His wife brought their children to the library almost every Saturday until they got too old. After that they often came on their own to check out books.”
Emma studied Fran Monroe. She was a walking, talking encyclopedia of local information, both people and places, but when she spoke of people and things in the town, there was not a sliver of gossip or maliciousness in her tone. She looked from Fran to Heddy and saw how vital and in love the two women were, even in their advanced age. She linked her arm through Phil’s and gave him a warm smile. Hopefully, Gino would one day find what they all enjoyed, or even close to it.
“And what did I do to deserve that smile and a snuggle?” Phil asked, mischief dancing in his eyes.
“It’s just for being you,” she said and laughed.
“Uh-huh,” Heddy said, watching them. “So when are you two tying the knot?”
“We’re not sure,” Emma told them. “But we’ve talked about next summer after my daughter graduates from college.” She glanced at Phil. “Honestly, we’d love to simply elope, but my family and Phil’s would have a fit.”
“Ha!” said Phil. “That’s an understatement. You’d think we were in our twenties the way they’re all acting. Even my sons want us to have a big wedding. Not fancy, but big.”
Heddy squeezed Fran’s hand. “We got married at the cutest little chapel in Vermont, then stayed at a friend’s cabin in the mountains for a week after. It was heaven.”
“Here you go,” announced Gino. He was balancing three large cups on a carryout container. After the drinks were distributed, he took a seat.
“Okay, let’s begin,” Fran announced. “This is a map of Whitefield back in the 1800s. See here.” She pointed to the center of the map. “That’s the town square, which is right outside that window.” Phil, Emma, and Gino all turned and looked at the tidy square across the street. In the middle was a white gazebo.
“This shop would be located right here,” Fran continued, “had it been around back then.” She pointed to a corner across from the square with the non-writing end of her pen. “When Abigail and the twins were around, the general store was in this spot.” She moved the pen down the road until it drifted off the page. “This is the road to Misty Hollow. The same road you took in here today. As you can see, the town was fairly small back then but thriving and a hub of activity serving many of the smaller villages in the area.”
Fran pulled another map from under the other and placed it on top. It was a modern map, a bit larger than the first. “This is the town of Whitefield today. As you can see, it has expanded a great deal. See this circle in the middle? Early this morning, I traced the boundaries of the old town over the current map to give us a perspective of what was here when the Browns were alive. As we discussed last night, if French killed the children, he probably would not have stashed the bodies within the town limits, this smaller circle.” She indicated a larger circle on the outskirts of the first one. “This indicates the area where there has been a lot of new development close to the town center over the last century. If he hid the bodies in this area, I think they might have been discovered. Not for certain, but probably. That leaves the rest of the area.”
She pulled out the old map again and pointed to an area near the end of the square opposite the bakery. “This is where the hotel was where French would have stayed, according to Abigail. It was the only hotel back then.” She switched maps and pointed to an intersection just within the first circle. “And this is where that hotel would have been today, but it’s now a small office building.” She moved her pointer along a road. “Along with Misty Hollow, this road branches off here and there to reach various points on the lake. This one here goes to the area that was once the site of Job’s Arm. On some of these roads I’ve jotted down some notes. See? Here’s the road that leads to the Passer Heights development. Here are the roads that would go to Hampshire, Worcester, et cetera. Of course everyone mostly hops on and off the interstate now to get to these places.
“This is great, Fran,” Gino said with enthusiasm. “Very informative.”
Fran seemed pleased with the praise. “Heddy and I had a few copies of the current map made at the copy shop before coming here, so you can each have one.” She gave everyone their own copy with the drawn circles.
“So how are we going to divide up the search parties?” asked Heddy.
Emma looked at the map, hoping to get some sort of vibes from it, but she got nothing. “I think we should have two search parties, with me and Fran split between them. This many years later, we’re not looking for a grave but for the spirits themselves, providing they are lingering near their graves or the place where they died. If they’re not, this all may be wasted time, but I know of no other way to look for them.” They all murmured agreement.
Gino laughed. “You and Fran will be like human metal detectors, but in this case looking for ghosts instead of lost rings in the sand.”
“Something like that,” Fran agreed with a grin.
“Why don’t I go with Fran and Heddy?” Phil suggested. “And Emma and Gino head in another direction.”
&
nbsp; “Yes,” admitted Emma. “I think that would be a great idea.” She looked at the two women. “Did you bring Howard? Animals are great at noticing spirits.”
“We sure did,” Fran said with a smile, “even though it’s quite wet out. He’s out in the car right now. He’s very sensitive to ghosts, and loves trekking through the woods.”
Phil studied the map, then said, “Why don’t Emma and Gino take the part south of the midsection of town, just below Main Street, and we’ll take the area above. We can start at the far edges of the outside circle and expand outward.”
“One thing to remember,” noted Gino. “Back then travel took a lot longer than it does now. Even if he was driving a buggy, French would not have gone far unless he stored the bodies somewhere, then drove them out of town when he left and dumped them somewhere between Whitefield and his next stop.” He paused. “But I doubt he did that because it was summer and those bodies would have started smelling by the time he left town.”
“That’s right,” Fran said, “and didn’t Abigail say that French stuck around to help with the search?”
“Right. So we really only have a few miles to expand out from the edge of town,” added Phil, “because he wouldn’t have gone far.”
“Just remember,” said Heddy, “a lot of that area is still wooded without paths.”
Gino grinned at Emma and Phil. “Now aren’t you glad I made us stop at that Fish, Field, and whatever to buy rubber boots?”
In response, Emma stuck out her long legs and clicked her heels together, making a dull thudding sound. On her feet were army green rubber boots that came halfway up her calves. Phil and Gino were each wearing a similar pair.
“They’re not as cute as yours, Fran,” Emma said with a smile while admiring her recent purchase, “but they’ll be useful enough back home.”
• CHAPTER NINETEEN •
GINO Costello waded through the woods like a bear searching for food. Emma was annoyed by the noise, as it distracted her from concentrating on any spirits that might be about, but she was also amused. For all his man’s-man appearance, it was clear that Gino spent little time outdoors. She was sure Phil wasn’t having the same issue. Heddy and Fran clearly knew their way around nature. Emma had worked in noisy circumstances before and knew how to handle them. She stood still, closed her eyes, and took several deep breaths, closing out the sound of twigs and branches being disturbed and resetting her sensitivities to what couldn’t be seen or heard. After a few moments, her inner senses had taken over her outer senses and she became aware of the smallest movements and air currents around them.
The Ghosts of Misty Hollow Page 17