by S. A. Hunter
"I am really sorry about the movie and the fight with Rachel." He waved it off. She got out and watched him back out of her driveway.
Well, there was no way he was asking her out again. She was going to die an old, crazy cat lady. She should just accept it. Maybe tomorrow Gran could take her to the SPCA and get her started. She was sure they had a nice black cat that needed a home.
Gran was reading a book in the recliner when she came in. She looked up in surprise. “You’re back early.”
“Yeah, the move was preempted by another call from the Shadowman.”
“What?”
Mary proceeded to tell her all about her date that wasn’t.
CHAPTER FOUR
A Lump of Death
Mary tugged at the collar of her dress. It was a plain, navy blue, button-up dress that she’d bought over a year ago when she’d thought she might be into swing dancing. She’d realized she wasn’t after one swing class, which she’d sworn Rachel to never mention again, and the dress had gone to the back of the closet. It was the only dress she owned. She wore her black Doc Martens with it. She didn’t own any dress shoes, but then again, she didn’t want to own any dress shoes. The Docs looked pretty good with it, in her estimation.
When she went down to go, she found Gran waiting in a simple black dress, with black stockings and black shoes. The outfit didn’t look right on her. She usually wore pastels with a bohemian slant that always made her look cheerful and easygoing. The funerary clothes made her look like a refugee from some war-torn country. Gran had Mr. White’s box in her lap.
“You’re bringing that?” Mary asked.
Gran patted the box. “Yes, if only Zeke can open it, then this is our only chance to get him to do so.”
“What about the curse?”
Gran shook her head. “There is no curse.”
“How can you know the thing inside the box isn’t what’s cursed?”
“Because putting it in such a heavily warded box prevents the curse from doing anything.”
“Maybe it would make sense to Mr. White. Maybe it’s like Pandora’s box. Her problems didn’t start until she opened the box.”
“I would say our troubles have already started. Those Shadowman calls mean something, and I bet it has to do with what’s inside this box.”
Gran rose. “We need to get going. We don’t want to be late.”
Mary followed her out with a frown. What Gran said made sense, but she still felt like they were tempting fate messing with that box.
Mary drove them to Graham and Sons Funeral Home. When she pulled in, the small parking lot was empty. It looked like they might really be the only ones at the funeral. She followed Gran up the handicap ramp and was met by a man in a dark suit. He gave them a subdued smile.
“Are you here for the White Funeral?”
Gran nodded and held out her hand. “Yes, I’m Helena Dubont. Are you Mr. Hamner?”
Mr. Hamner nodded and took her hand. “Yes. How do you do, Mrs. Dubont? If you’ll follow me? We are in the East Parlor.”
He led them into a room with ten chairs set up in front of a casket. A single flower arrangement sat off to the side. The casket was open. Mary could just make out Mr. White’s profile.
“How long would you like to wait?” Mr. Hamner asked.
Gran looked around the room. “Fifteen minutes, please. Thank you.”
Mr. Hamner nodded and left the room. Mary cast her eyes around the room. She didn’t want to look at the casket, but it seemed to draw her eyes back, no matter what.
Gran patted her hand. “I’m going to try the box. Go sit down.”
Mary nodded. There was only one row of chairs. She wanted to sit as far away as possible, but short of picking up a chair and moving it, she was going to have a front row seat. Gran was at the casket looking at Mr. White.
“Now this is sad. The small funerals always seem sadder.”
Mary raised her head and looked around the room. Gran was at the casket. She was wiping her eyes.
“Who’s there?” Mary whispered.
“Oh, I should’ve known someone sensitive would be in attendance, judging from the tattoos and whatnot on that one.”
Gran had pulled out Mr. White’s hand. It had a glove on it. Gran began tugging it off.
“Hello, I’m Mary, and you are?”
“I am Reginald Graham, the original Graham. How do you do? I do hope everything meets your expectations.”
A haunted funeral home, of course. She wondered if Gran had known when she picked it. “Oh yes, everything is very nice. Thank you. I was wondering, though, if there has been anything unusual in the—” Mary faltered on how to word the next part, “preparations with Mr. White?”
“Well, I shouldn’t say,” Mr. Graham said.
Mary watched tensely as Gran put Mr. White’s cold hand on the lid of the box and tried to open it. The box didn’t open. A wave of relief went through her. She slumped slightly in her chair, grateful it hadn’t worked. Mary knew she wasn’t psychic, but the thought of opening that box made her queasy.
She turned her attention back to Mr. Graham. “Please, Mr. White was involved in some very dark stuff when he was alive, and we may have to deal with it now.” Gran was struggling to put the glove back on Mr. White’s hand.
“Hmm, you have a point and what happened was very unusual. Please know that we here at Graham and Sons Funeral Home handle the deceased with the utmost care and respect. We take your grief seriously and wish to ease it in every way possible.”
Mary rolled her eyes slightly at the spiel but nodded her head. “Of course, but something happened, didn’t it?”
“There may have been a break-in and something may have been taken from the deceased. We’ve done everything we can to rectify it, and I assure you the security will be increased. I will see to it personally.”
Mary didn’t know what a dead funeral home director could do to increase security, but she figured it was wiser not to question him on it. “I understand. How could you have known someone would break in and bother a body? It’s unthinkable.”
“It’s sacrilegious. We, of course, took special care of his personal effects. Those were stored in the safe. We always take special care of the valuables, but this is something quite unheard of and disturbing.”
Mary wasn’t sure what to say in reply. She was beginning to get a nasty suspicion that made her ill. “It wasn’t jewelry that was taken?”
“Oh no, that is all accounted for.”
“Then what was taken?”
Mr. Graham didn’t immediately answer. Mary could feel his discontent. She waited tensely. “I suppose I should tell you, but please understand, we did everything possible to rectify the problem. It’s barely noticeable now.”
“What was taken?”
“His left hand.”
“What?” she said, her voice sharp and loud.
Gran, finished with her task, had gone to look at the flower arrangement. She swiveled toward Mary with raised eyebrows.
“Please understand, if we’d had any inkling someone would do such a dastardly thing, we would have done everything in our power to prevent it. I, myself, flickered the lights, rattled the tools, jabbed at the malefactor, but I couldn’t stop her. She was very intent on her task.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Her face was covered and her clothing nondescript. I had hoped that if she showed up here, I might be able to recognize her and attempt again to apprehend her.”
Again, Mary didn’t know how Mr. Graham expected to accomplish that task but did not challenge his assertion. She couldn’t believe someone would do something so heinous. She had to know for herself. Though her heart raced and stomach churned, she rose from her seat and approached the casket. Gran noticed and quickly moved to join her. Gran didn’t say anything, but she put her arm around Mary. Gran still hadn’t picked up on Mr. Graham’s presence. Mary stepped up to the casket to look down at Mr. Whi
te. He lay in the coffin surrounded by white satin. His hair had been washed and combed. It looked better now than when he had been alive. She knew it was wrong to notice that but couldn’t help it. His hands were crossed on his stomach, at least what appeared to be his hands were crossed on his stomach. Her hand quivered a little as she reached out. She had to lift his right hand to reach the left. She suffered a moment of revulsion as she felt the bones and sinew underneath the glove. She dropped the hand and shifted back to the left hand. It was uniformly hard.
“They filled the glove with sand. It really looks quite good doesn’t it? I think they did very clever work on such short notice.”
“Yes, if you hadn’t told me, I wouldn’t have known,” Mary acknowledged.
Gran stepped closer to the casket. “What’s wrong, Mary? Who are you speaking to?” She reached out and laid her hand over Mr. White’s left hand and quickly jerked it back. “What in the world?”
“Don’t get upset, Gran, but someone stole Mr. White’s left hand.”
Gran’s eyes opened wide, and she reached out to touch the fake hand again. She pressed the glove and the back became mottled from her touch. “This is awful. Oh my word, this is terrible.”
Mary could see the tears forming in Gran’s eyes and swiftly put her arm around her and drew her away from the casket.
“Please assure your grandmother that we are just as upset as she by this terrible event, and it will never happen again.”
Mary nodded in acknowledgment. She rubbed Gran’s back. “It’s okay, Gran.”
Gran shook her head. “No, it is not okay. It’s terrible. I can’t believe someone would do something so awful.”
“Do you know who might have?”
Gran shook her head again. “Dear Lord, no. Zeke and I hadn’t really had a chance to catch up.”
“What should we do?”
Gran left Mary’s side to go back to the casket. She recrossed Mr. White’s hands and gave them a shaky pat. “If the funeral home hasn’t reported, we won’t either. Police would ask too many questions that we can’t answer.”
Mary nodded and looked away. Mr. Hamner appeared in the doorway. Mary met his eye. He cleared his throat and asked, “Shall we proceed to the grave site?”
Gran turned to him. “Yes, I don’t think anyone else is coming.”
Mr. Hamner nodded. He and three more men in somber suits entered. Two went to either end of the casket and wheeled it out while the other man gathered up the flower arrangement. Mr. Hamner escorted Gran and Mary to their car. Mary got behind the wheel and waited for the hearse. She didn’t really need to. She knew where they were going. It was the same cemetery where her parents were buried.
When Gran had told her that Mr. White had a plot reserved there, her gut had twisted a little. Knowing he would be buried in the same location as her parents had upset her. She preferred to think of that cemetery as their cemetery. She didn’t like the idea of Mr. White, someone she still felt very angry with, being buried there.
As she followed the hearse with her flashers on to show she was part of the funeral procession, a very short funeral procession, Mary glanced at Gran. She hadn’t said anything since getting in the car. “Do you think this is related to the box?” she asked.
Gran had been staring out the window. “Probably. It may be a way to open the box.” She appeared so tired and worn. It upset Mary. She felt a hot flash of anger at Mr. White. Why couldn’t he have just died and given them some peace?
“But why take the hand? You tried it on the box, and it didn’t work.”
“Yes, but the thief could make a Hand of Glory from it.”
Mary’s eyes widened. She’d read about the Hand of Glory in occult books. It was a candlestick made out of the hand of dead man. The hand of a hanged man was preferred, but Mr. White had died by strangulation. His cause of death was probably similar enough to serve the purpose. The Hand of Glory was used in thievery. It could open any lock, and if lit, could send everyone in the house to sleep and keep them asleep until the candle was blown out or the thief left. It was considered an evil and vile thing, and she agreed.
“Do you think whoever took the hand will come after us?” Mary asked. Did they need to be worried? How would they stop someone with a Hand of Glory?
Gran sighed. “I don’t know.”
When they reached the grave site, Mary pulled over behind the hearse and helped Gran out. Mr. Hamner and his men were waiting for them. There was no clergyman to give the eulogy. Mr. Hamner said Mr. White had asked that the poem Darkness by Lord Byron be read as his eulogy. Mary remembered studying it in English class. It was a bleak, dark poem. She hated Mr. White for picking it, especially when Mr. Hamner got to the part about the dog. It made her think of Chowder. She felt tears begin to creep down her cheeks. Gran, who’d been holding her hand, gave her a reassuring squeeze.
Mary wondered if they were supposed to tend his grave like they did her parents’. She didn’t want to. She wanted the ground to be choked with weeds, and she didn’t care if the gravestone cracked. She hoped Mr. White had bought a gravestone, too. The thought of Gran spending money on him made her angry, but she must have bought the flower arrangement, the casket, and Mr. Hamner’s services. Mary clenched her fists. She wanted to ask Gran how much money this whole farce cost, but Mr. Hamner was still reading the awful poem. He was on the part about the dead sea. Mary stared at the ground and took deep breaths through her nose to calm herself.
At the end of the service, one of Mr. Hamner’s assistants gave them each a white carnation. Gran stepped forward and dropped hers into the grave. Mary looked down at hers and tore the petals off the flower and broke the stem several times. She balled it all up and threw it down into the hole. “I hope you’re suffering, Ezekiel White,” she said into the grave. Gran didn’t intercede or stop her. She just stood by and watched with sad eyes. The funeral home attendants looked on impassively.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Mary changed out of her dress gladly and shoved it into the back of her closet, where it could hang forever for all she cared. She never wanted to wear it again. She wasn’t sure if it was worth going to school now. She’d missed all of her morning classes and fourth period had already begun. Gran was sitting in her office. She’d changed out of her funerary clothes as well. She had one of her largest crystals in her hands. She kept various crystals for their healing qualities. They helped in certain areas like happiness and confidence. She also sold them to her clients. She only urged them to buy the ones they needed. Some bought more because they liked them, but Gran didn’t even mention them unless she thought a particular one could do someone some good. The one she held was a very large quartz. Mary thought it was Gran’s favorite. It was very pretty. There was a black vein that ran through it that had always fascinated Mary.
Gran looked at her with a smile. “Ready to start your training?”
Mary frowned. She didn’t want to go to school, but she didn't want to stay home to work either. “Is it going to take long?”
Gran shrugged. “It’s going to take as long as it takes.” She set the large quartz crystal in the center of the table. “Pull up a chair and stare at this.”
When Mary was seated and facing the crystal, Gran spoke again, “I want you to learn how to meditate. It’s the first step to learning control. Stare at the crystal and focus inward. I want you to not think about anything. Take deep calming breaths and keep your mind blank.”
“Gran, if I do that, I’m going to fall asleep.”
“Fine, fall asleep, but keep your eyes open, and your mind blank.”
Mary couldn’t help rolling her eyes at that.
“Being able to focus your mind is important. Either you learn to control your ability to dampen the ghosts, or you’ll always have problems with them. You’ll always hear them and they may try to take control of you again.”
Mary nodded. “All right, I’ll try.” She focused on the crystal and tried to quiet her mind.
Gran pushed herself away from the table and got up. Mary quickly broke her concentration. “Where are you going?”
Gran huffed. “Do you expect me to sit here and watch you meditate? I’m going to return some phone calls.”
“But what if I have questions?”
“If you have questions, then you’re not doing it right. Focus on the crystal, Mary, and empty your mind.”
She wanted to protest more, but Gran got up and hobbled out of the room. Mary turned back to the crystal and stared at it. This seemed like a futile exercise. How was looking at a chunk of quartz going to help her stop hearing ghosts? And she knew she wasn’t doing what Gran had told her.
She sighed and scrunched her eyebrows. No more thinking, she told herself, and had to acknowledge the irony of thinking the thought as she tried to not think and realized she was still messing up and really needed her brain to shut up. She stared harder at the quartz and focused on the dark vein. She let her eyes roam up and down it.
She kept her mind blank. She made sure to keep her breathing deep and even. She worked as hard as she could to not think, but couldn’t help wondering how long she was supposed to do this. Would Gran come get her once she’d worked on this long enough? Was she supposed to know when she was done?
And she was thinking again. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She focused again on the quartz. She wondered if she could lift it with her mind. Telekinesis would be a cool ability. Gran said no one had that ability in the family, but maybe she was wrong. Mary wouldn’t mind being multi-talented. The quartz didn’t move. She thought she could actually see dust settling on it. How long was she supposed to do this? Gran’s voice rose up and answered her, “Until you get it right.” Mary frowned. That had better not really have been Gran.
She stared at the crystal and once again got her mind to go blank. She made sure to keep her body relaxed and her breathing even. She wouldn’t let herself wonder about how much time had passed, but it was a constant question in the back of her brain that niggled at her. She wished she could count her breaths as a way to gauge time. And really, not thinking about anything was really hard! She groaned and dropped her head. She was done. It was a losing battle. She got up from the table and went to look for Gran. She’d been at it for an hour, she was sure.