FEVER DREAMS: A Bracken and Bledsoe Paranormal Mystery

by April Campbell Jones

  “Easy! Calm down! We don’t know for sure it was even a person. Hell, it could have been the wind!”

  But I could still feel the waves of fury emanating from her as she fumbled her cell phone from her purse, began pushing buttons.

  “Katie…”

  “C’mon, goddamnit—ring!”

  “Katie, you can barely get a signal in Manchac alone, but out here in a country cemetery--inside four sealed stone walls--”

  “Don’t say that!” and she struck my chest with her phone.

  Gave me a shocked look, bit her lip and put the phone away quietly, hands moving in a kind of slow-motion. Then, softly, evenly: “I never got to tell you. You’re a great kisser, do you know that?”

  “Oh…Katie, everyone knows that.” Trying for a humor quite beyond her.

  I held her against me, mind racing everywhere, anywhere, possibly from my own panic.

  “Elliot, we have to get out of here.” Eerily calm now, almost detached.

  “We will, we will. Just stay and help me think. Panic only further dissipates our—“

  She went rigid again in my arms; her heart hammering demandingly against my chest. “Dissipates what?”

  “Nothing. Sh! Let yourself relax…I’ve got you. I’m not going to let anything hurt you, Katie.”

  “You were going to say oxygen! Weren’t you?”

  Yes, but I shook my head against her. “Don’t be silly. You’re overreacting, honey!”

  I stroked her back, kissed her cheek. “It’s a mausoleum, not a bank vault. That whole bank vault thing is a myth anyway, there’s plenty of air in those things, and plenty in here. The only things that are hermetically sealed are mayonnaise jars.” Lying through my teeth, trying like hell to keep my own breathing under control.

  “Why in God’s name wouldn’t it have an inside keyhole?”

  “I don’t know. Probably no one ever thought of staying here permanently.”

  It was too funny—amid all the vaulted stiffs around us--not to chuckle. But Katie’s morphed into a laugh that went on too long, and too hysteria-borne high.

  I had to grip her trembling shoulders hard, tilt her wide, upraised eyes back to mine. “I can either slap you or kiss you again—your choice.”

  That seemed to calm her a notch. She had my cellphone in her hand, turned it on me. “I need to see you! See your face!”

  “Okay. How do I look?”

  “Very handsome…”

  “There you go!”

  “…for someone scared shitless!”

  I held her back, looked deep into her eyes. “I’m afraid I’ve got worse news than that…”

  Her pupils widened. “What?”

  “It is pretty close in here…”

  “Yes?”

  “And I think I need to fart.”

  That one brought up a snorty-horse giggle. “Oh, Elliot, Elliot. You’re either very brave or very—“

  “Let’s agree on ‘brave.’”

  She cupped my cheek. “How are we going to get out of here? Even if we don’t smother it could be days, months, even a year before they—“

  “I don’t think so.” I let go of her—the trembling had become less violent—retrieved the light from her hand and shone it around the walls, the floor, the ceiling of the crypt.

  “No? No patronizing, now…”

  “I’m not.” I played the light over the fronts of the metal vaults, the stone scones below each. “Look at those empty flower votes. That odor of violets is coming from Amy’s alone. And it’s fresh. Angel probably replaces them regularly. Also, look around. This place is spotless. Someone probably does maintenance on the interior fairly regularly, cleaning, dusting. And once he gets past his initial grief, my bet is Dean will probably come back for a proper good-bye to his son.”

  “Elliot!”

  “Look, it’s not beyond reason—“

  “Elliot, can I say something?”

  “What?”

  “We’ve got the only key!”

  I faltered. Fortunately it too gloomy in there for her to detect my thick swallow. “We don’t know that for sure. There’s probably a spare. There’s always a spare.”

  She just looked at me. All hope gone.

  “Katie, all you need is an outside keyhole to make a duplicate key. Someone will come! Someone will let us o—“

  I saw her expression shift darkly.

  “Katie? What’s the matter?”

  I played the dimming cellular light around the stone walls again. “Talk to me.”

  “Diane…” she whispered.

  “Diane? What about her?”

  “She didn’t come here to meet a john. And she didn’t come here to take away any dead flowers. She came here for money. That’s why she brought the paper bag…why it was wrinkly and flat when she went in!”

  She craned around us with sudden excitement. “Diane was hiding money in the crypt! That’s why she came to Roger’s funeral, to make sure no one saw where!”

  I turned a thoughtful circle, played the light on the vault fronts again. “Maybe. Or maybe someone else hid it…”

  She caught at my hand. “Like who?”

  I nodded slowly at no one. “‘They’re not who they appear to be,’ that attorney at the funeral said, remember?”

  “Who?”

  I smiled mirthlessly at her. “You don’t inherit an entire cemetery and a good portion of Louisiana real estate and end up broke. Even if you live like you are, try to make people think you are! And you sure as hell don’t get rich scowling up and down the river for antiques.”

  Katie’s voice dropped a register, into the calm zone, as her investigative mind slipped back into the game. I could see the wheels turning. “A small town…where everybody knows everyone else’s business…a small town with one small, badly guarded bank. Lot of people still hide their money under mattresses in places like this, even down a well...”

  “But the Robichous aren’t lots of people.”

  “No. They’ve got their own private little vault…lots of them, in fact. In a mausoleum. The last place anyone would think of, even know about.”

  “At least one person knows about it. Someone outside the family.”

  She looked up at me. “Someone who knew Roger Robichou since high school.”

  Katie switched her phone light back on, shone it on the stone walls. “Lots of lots, Elliot...”

  “If you had to pick one to hide your stash, which would you pick?”

  “That’s easy. One without a body.”

  I played my light over the carved names of Dean and Angel, started toward them.

  “Jesus…”

  I whirled around. “What?”

  “Can’t you feel it? Someone’s in here with us…”

  I shone my light in a complete circle, rechecked the stone floor. Shook my head. “There’s nobody.”

  “You can’t feel that? The sudden cold?”

  Katie was bare-armed, I still had my coat jacket on, but the nape of my neck prickled. “Maybe…a little.”

  “’Maybe’ my ass! Listen!”

  I listened, heard nothing but the distant moan of wind from off the swamp. “What--?”

  “A kind of…shuffling. Like little footsteps! Maybe…maybe inside, maybe out…along the wall! I can’t tell!”

  I strained, heard nothing. “Haven’t we been here before? That damn alligator--?”

  Katie stood motionless, as if in a trance. “It’s not the alligator…”

  I watched her.

  “…it’s Amy. She’s here, Elliot!”

  I lifted my failing light. “Okay, take it easy, now, it’s been a long night…”

  “There! Didn’t you hear that?”

  I heard something that time; didn’t particularly sound like a child’s footfalls.

  I lowered my light to the floor again. As it swept past a corner, two small red eyes shone back at me, frozen like a deer in headlights. “Christ. It’s only a rat.”

  �
�Rats! Shit!”

  “A rat. Must have slinked in behind us when we entered the crypt. Lonely little orphan from the storm, trying to get out of here again, like us.”

  I threw my beam over at Katie. She had her back to me, standing still, staring at something.

  “It’s not a rat I feel, Elliot. It’s a human presence…a person. I tell you it’s Amy, she’s in here!”

  “Fine! But where?”

  “Can’t you smell the violets? The strong fragrance? Much stronger than before!”

  “It’s just—“

  “It’s not just from the vase under her vault! It’s coming from outside the crypt, from this wall right beside us!”

  The night went suddenly bright as Katie swung her light in my eyes. “She wants you, Elliot! She’s trying to reach out to you…communicate with you!”

  Now her voice took on a hollow, alien tone. “Only these walls…these stone walls…she can’t get through them. You’ve got to help her, Elliot…open yourself to her!”

  The light left my eyes, leaving me momentarily blind.

  I heard Katie’s shoes scraping away from me. “Katie! Hey!”

  I fumbled with my own light but the battery was just about gone, the glow barely illuminating my fingers. “Katie? Where are you going?”

  “I’m here.” Calm. Detached. Almost not Katie’s voice. “Come to me, Elliot. Over here.”

  “My battery’s gone! I-I’ve lost my night vision, keep talking!”

  She talked me over to the stone wall. I heard a low grinding sound.

  Then she moved aside and I saw the glow of her phone light.

  And the open vault it was shining on.

  Amy’s vault. Open.

  And empty.

  “I thought…” Katie started in an unfinished whisper.

  Thought what? That little Amy’s body was inside? Or the money?

  Her phone light suddenly dipped low quickly. “What are you doing--?”

  “Here! Hold this! Quick, the battery’s low!”

  “Mine’s dead.”

  “Point it down here on the floor so I can see! Hurry, Elliot!”

  Katie was sitting cross-legged on the stone floor, digging through her purse. “Little closer, please! There it is!”

  I crouched down beside her as she lifted out the leather gris-gris bag.

  “What are we doing?”

  She pulled the rawhide string, spilled the bag’s contents on the cold floor: mostly little animal bones, a few black, creek-polished stones, handful of birthday cake candles, and two matches. Katie tried one. By some miracle, even after having been doused in the swamp, it lit. She touched the tiny yellow flame to one of the candles until it dripped a spot of wax, stuck it upright on the stone floor, lit the other candles with the first one, and began forming a small, shadow-billowing circle around her.

  “What are we doing?”

  She held out her hand. “Give me the locket, Elliot!”

  “I don’t have the locket!”

  “In your left hand coat pocket! Quickly!”

  “I’m telling you I don’t have the damn—“

  “Elliot!”

  I sighed, reached obediently into my pocket. “See? Nothing!”

  “Your other left hand! For chrissake!”

  I reached into the other pocket, pulled out the locket incredulously--felt it snatched from my hand.

  “Now sit. On your butt. And take my hand.”

  “What are we—“

  “If you say that one more time!” Katie closed her eyes, tilted her head back, took a deep breath. “Close your eyes and keep your big mouth shut.”

  I did.

  I sat there in the dark, the cold stone floor numbing my hindquarters.

  Then I heard someone speaking. After a moment I realized it was Katie, beside me.

  “Amy Robichou…we gathered here feel your presence. Will you make yourself known to us?”

  Silence in my darkness. Then I heard the outside wind rise sharply.

  “Amy Robichou…we are friends…come to help you. Elliot Bledsoe is here. Do you wish to speak with him?”

  Silence.

  A keening wail like a lost soul, a demented banshee--

  --surely only the wind buffeting the mausoleum.

  “Amy Robichou…we sense your need to communicate. If these stone walls keep you out, can you give us a sign?”

  Silence.

  Wind.

  “Amy, sweetheart…if you want us to help you, you must give us a sign. Elliot has seen you…back in Texas, on the campus…can you make him see you like that again…?”

  Silence.

  Then…

  …something. Light footsteps? Like a child’s.

  “Elliot?”

  The changed tone of her voice jolted me. Katie felt it and squeezed my hand. “Elliot, open your eyes.”

  “I’d really rather not, thanks.” That’s what I wanted to say.

  “Elliot? Something is with us! Open your eyes! Now!”

  I opened my eyes.

  Two pale blue eyes were floating toward me from across the stone floor, glossy and fluid in the flickering candle light.

  I had the sudden certainty I’d sensed rather than heard the footsteps.

  My throat constricted.

  I had to swallow hard three times to get it out, and then my voice was more like a strangled plea. “Amy--? I croaked.

  The blues eyes drew closer, brighter. The figure came into candlelight.

  “Meow,” Garbanzo replied.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Katie grabbed up the cat, squeezed her to her face. “Garbanzo! Oh, sweetie, I was never so glad to see that furry little face in my life! See, Elliot! Amy did hear us! She sent Garbanzo to us, to our aid!”

  I gave a weak, dubious smile. “Yeah. Right. Aid us how, exactly?”

  Katie kissed the cat, hugged him. “I don’t know! But it’s a sign, isn’t it? He’s here, isn’t he! He came to us somehow!”

  “Through solid stone?”

  Katie stroked the cat, refusing to relinquish her straw of hope. “Well, what’s your logical explanation, professor? I’m dying to hear it!”

  I sighed, allowing an inch of despair to penetrate a millimeter. “Right off hand I’d say he jumped out of that crack in the car window you left him, followed—or chased—the rat through the door behind us when we weren’t paying attention and got himself trapped inside just like us.”

  “Then why did he take so long coming to us?”

  I felt my insides caving a little. “Because he’s a cat, Katie.”

  “I don’t believe it’s just that!”

  I knew she didn’t. Knew too it was useless arguing with her. Besides, why bludgeon her with the truth right then? The truth being, we were sealed inside an ages old mausoleum without food, water and probably no more than a day’s worth of air, and that whoever found us, when they found us, would discover two desiccated, mummified bodies and one furry one, depending on how much the rats left.

  “Such a good kitty,” Katie was murmuring into Garbanzo’s lustrous neck, “now, show us how you got in here, baby!”

  The cat looked over his shoulder in the direction of the far stone wall. The flat, impenetrable stone wall.

  I propped my arms on my knees, buried my head in them. Nice that Katie had somehow found hope again in all this. I felt none.

  I felt nothing.

  “Hey!”

  I looked up as Garbanzo bolted suddenly from Katie’s arms and down the stone floor.

  “Elliot, look! He’s showing us the way!”

  I nodded listless patronage. “Uh-huh.”

  “He is! Look at him!”

  I stuck my face back in my arms. “He’s chasing the rat, Katie. Which I fervently hope he finds and very slowly kills.”

  No sooner was it out of my mouth when a violent squeak echoed from against the far wall.

  I couldn’t see the wall beyond the candlelight’s dying flames but I didn’t need to
. “Well, at least one of us has something to eat,” I murmured, and immediately regretted it.

  I sighed, got down on my hands and knees, began to gather all the half-burnt candles in one hand. “We’d better go get him. Once these burn out he’ll be the only one that can see.”

  I had what I thought was a pretty brilliant epiphany then: I stuck all the candles end to end with melted wax, making one long candle. It was less bright but it would last us longer.

  I took Katie’s arm gently and led her across the crypt floor to the far wall, moved my homemade torch about until I found Garbanzo hunched over the blood-mottled rat. It was decidedly dead.

  I sensed Katie sagging beside me; as if she’d thought the cat would lead us to a magic stone doorway or a little bottle labeled “drink me” that would shrink us like Alice to squeeze through a crack in the floor. Except there were no cracks.

  And then, as I stared to turn away with the candle, there were.

  A small spider’s web tracery of thin cracks about halfway up the rock-hard wall.

  Kate saw me staring at them. “Hurricane Katrina,” she mumbled absently.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Must have damaged the foundation here a little.”

  I pressed my fingers against the biggest fissure, only a few millimeters wide: the stone held implacably.

  “What’s that--?” Katie was pointing at a dun blotch on the wall.

  I moved the candle over and under until the brownish wall spot became red. “The rat,” I noted.”It’s where Garbanzo must have caught him.”

  I raised the candle higher. Before they disappeared into the penumbra of candlelight, the spider’s web of thin cracks appeared to widen slightly further up. Near the ceiling, maybe.

  Something was creeping furtively around my exhausted mind, circling, circling…

  “What is it?” from Katie.

  I shook my head; I wasn’t sure yet. “Probably nothing.”

  I turned, lowered the candle to the dining cat again, the quick movement stretching the flame narrow, almost winking it out.

  “Elliot, careful!”

  I looked back across the floor to where we’d been standing when Garbanzo first came to us. I rubbed at my chin thoughtfully, desperately wishing for coffee.

  “What if the cat didn’t come through the door…?”