"Me too," I said. "Although something was outside my barn the other night, and it didn't look like a tiger. It looked almost wolflike."
"Ed Chovanek trapped a mangy German shepherd last night and a lot of us have been wondering if that's what's been hanging around. It's bony as all get-out, but it's huge."
"What did he do with it?"
"Took it to Tobias for treatment this morning," she said. "I think he's hoping Serafine will help him get it well and adopt it out; it's such a relief that Rooster finally figured out what happened to those poor men."
I decided not to comment on Rooster's investigative abilities. "Any word on José?" I asked, considering Maria seemed to know everything.
"Oh, he's coming around," she said. "He confirmed what Rooster suspected," she said. "Mitch Wharton's in jail for murder; apparently, he ran up hundreds of thousands of dollars in debts gambling and killed his brother to pay them off. Word is Bug's ex was involved, too... Can you believe Bug rigged the lottery? Sounds like he deserved what he got."
I wasn't sure anyone deserved to be murdered, but I kept my thoughts to myself.
Edna Orzak, who was all ears, helped me bag my groceries as Maria spoke. Which meant the news would be all over Buttercup by the end of the day—if it wasn't already. "I heard you found a diary or somethin' in that haunted house you moved over to Dewberry Farm," she said as she put the second pack of fun-sized Snickers bars into my bag. "Ever find out anything about the ghost?"
Maria's smile drooped a bit. "I translated the diary, and it was interesting—all about life in that time, and Indian raids, and crop failures... but nothing about what happened to her."
"When did the diary end?" I asked.
"A few days before Ilse disappeared," Maria sighed. "I know what the cameo is from, though; it was from her aunt in New York. There was a lot of talk of correspondence between them, but she must have put the letters somewhere else. She sent it to Ilse for her sixteenth birthday."
"So, we may never know what happened," I said, still thinking of the rusty knife that had been hidden with the diary and the cameo.
"No," Maria said, "but there were a lot of Indian raids at that time."
"Maybe the house was built on an Indian graveyard, and they came for retribution!" Edna suggested, eyes wide. "So you have double ghosts in the house... the Indians and the girl they killed!"
Maria and I exchanged glances. "Maybe," I said. "We may never know, unfortunately."
"I should be glad to have a record from my ancestors," Maria said, "but I have to say I was hoping for a bit more closure."
"Maybe we'll turn up something else during the renovation."
"Maybe," Maria replied, not sounding hopeful. "At any rate, I've got to go; I'm supposed to make a Jell-O brain mold for a Halloween party tonight, and I need some evaporated milk to make it gray."
"Ugh," I said. "Enjoy!"
"I'll try." She grinned, adjusting the hem of her Halloween sweater. "Oh—by the way —the German Club voted to donate ten thousand dollars to the renovation... all we ask is that you preserve the outside and the beautiful stenciling downstairs."
"Really?" I asked.
"And Jacob Mueller has agreed to help out at a discounted rate; he's kin, too, you know. In fact, I was looking at ancestry.com the other day, and I think I found a Vogel connection, too. Your grandmother and my grandmother were first cousins!"
"So maybe the house was meant to be at Dewberry Farm after all." I felt the rightness of it as I said it.
"Feels like it," she said. "Anyhow, we'll figure out the details later this week. Happy Halloween... and do let me know if you find out anything else while you're renovating,"
"Thanks, Maria!" I called as she headed back toward the canned milk.
"Sounds more like Christmas than Halloween to me," Edna said with a twinkle in her eye.
"You're telling me," I said, ripping open one of the bags of Snickers and offering her a fun-sized bar. "Happy Halloween," I told her.
Her face lit up. "Thanks!"
"My pleasure," I answered through a fun-sized bar of my own.
Tobias came early to help me prepare. As we set to work in the kitchen, Chuck dogging our heels and hoping for stray scraps, I filled him in on what Maria had told me, and he told me about the German shepherd he'd treated that morning.
"Do you really think he was what we saw the other night?" I asked as I checked on the chicken I'd put in the oven to bake.
"Maybe," he said. "He's malnourished and has a terrible case of Demodex, but he's a good dog. I think with the proper treatment, he'll make someone a loyal companion."
"What's Demodex?"
"A type of mange caused by mites. It's treatable, but it's a long process."
"I heard Serafine offered to help out."
"She did," he said. "She's got some extra room; plus, she's already treating Chiquis for Demodex, so she knows what she's doing. I'll donate the medical care and supplies."
"That's lovely of you," I said.
"It's the least I can do," he said. "I wish it were as easy for the tigers."
"No luck?"
"I'm working with a few organizations on getting them back to health and rehabilitated, but apparently there are a lot of homeless tigers in Texas at the moment. I'm hoping we can find a zoo or sanctuary that will take them."
"There's a big homeless tiger population here? Why?"
"People buy them as pets when they're little, and then they grow up."
I shook my head. "I don't understand people."
"That makes two of us," he agreed, giving me a hug. "But all we can do is try to do some good and look out for people who need help. Like you did, with Serafine."
"And you're doing with that poor dog," I said. "And those tigers."
He kissed my head. "Every little bit counts. I'm glad you're in my life."
"I'm glad you're in mine," I replied, and I must confess the kitchen work took a bit of a backseat for a while.
We were shredding chicken for enchiladas when Serafine pulled up outside with a blue bag slung over her shoulder and a wine carrier in her hand, containing what looked to be several bottles of mead and some spices.
"You're here early," I said as she walked in and set the carrier down on the counter.
"I promised I'd dowse the place for you," she said.
"Is Aimee coming later?"
She grimaced. "I couldn't get her to come. She's still upset about everything that went on. It'll take time."
"I'm sorry," I said.
She shrugged. "Life has its ups and downs; I'll help her through it as best I can. You have a few minutes to dowse? I'll get the mead warming when we get back."
"I'll finish the chicken," Tobias told me. "You go on out."
"Thanks," I said.
As I followed Serafine outside, she opened the voluminous blue bag she had brought. "I brought my sticks."
"Those look like bent coat hangers," I said.
"That's exactly what they are." She beamed. "Ready?"
"Why not?" I asked, thinking you got what you paid for. And if nothing else, I'd get to spend a few minutes with Serafine.
"Good luck," Tobias said with a wink and a grin. "If I see a geyser, I'll know you were successful."
I stuck my tongue out at him and followed Serafine out the door.
"How's Aimee really holding up?" I asked.
"She's not great, but I think she's going to be all right," Serafine said. "I think she's still a little hung up on Mitch, to be honest, even with everything he did. There's something about someone wanting you so much they're willing to commit murder to have you."
"Sounds kind of icky to me," I said.
"Me too," Serafine said. "She must have some karmic stuff she's working through. I'll see if I can do a clearing ritual when I get home... I can't thank you enough for finding out the truth about what happened to Bug and José. Without you, I'd likely be spending this Halloween—and many more—in jail for something I didn't
do."
"Thank you so much for getting the police out there," I said. "You were a lifesaver. Literally."
"Of course," she said. "Any idea what's going to happen to the tigers?"
"They're going to be rehabilitated, but after that, we're not quite sure yet. Tobias is working with a few places; he'll be sure to get them placed. At least we now know what the chupacabra was."
"A neglected German shepherd… poor thing. He’s super-sweet; I’m thinking of calling him Chupa."
"I like it!" I told her.
"Now," she continued, holding the bent hangers out in front of her as if they were antennae. "Ready?"
"You're in charge," I said. "What do they do when they find water?"
"You'll see," she said. "Where's the original well?"
"Over there," I said, pointing to the well house, which was on a knoll not far from the house.
"Hmm. Let's head down to the creek. Easier to get to the water table there, maybe."
"Here's hoping," I said. Together, we walked down to the creek, Serafine holding her hangers out in front of her, me following her like an attendant. "They're just swinging."
"You'll see," she repeated with a grin.
We took several trips back and forth across the field and the burned stubble. The hangers wobbled, and occasionally swayed a little bit, but on our sixth pass up from the creek, in part of the burned field, two things happened at once: the rock moved under Serafine's foot, and the two hangers swung toward each other, then far apart.
"Whoa," Serafine said, squatting down. "What's this?" We smoothed the dead foliage away to reveal a large, flat slab of limestone.
"What's this doing here?"
"I think there may be something underneath it," she said. "Help me out?"
Together, we grabbed one edge of the slab and pulled. The stone moved a few inches, enough to reveal a dark cavity lined with roots. The edges were lined with stones—stones that someone had laid, based on the evenness with which they'd been placed. Serafine stood up and held out the hangers. They swung together, then apart. She then squatted down and grabbed a small pebble from near the opening, dropping it in. After a short moment, it made a satisfying plunk.
"I don't think you're going to have to drill a new well after all, Lucy. You already have one."
Peter and Quinn arrived as we hurried back to the house.
"We found a well!" I announced.
"You're kidding me! Where?" Quinn asked.
"In the burned area," I told him. "I don't know how deep it is, but I'm hoping it'll be enough!"
"Let's get Tobias and take a look," Peter suggested.
We all hurried over to the slab Serafine and I had found. As we tramped around the area, we confirmed that I not only had a well, but likely the ruins of an older structure nearby. Now that the fire had gone through, Peter, Quinn, and Tobias were able to find the remains of a foundation and possibly a cistern belonging to a much older building.
"You'll need to install a pump and a new line, but this may be the answer to your water troubles," Peter said when he'd finished inspecting the area. "I hope it's deep!"
"We'll find out," I said. "In the meantime, we should probably cover it up again, don't you think?"
We slid the slab back over the old well and turned back toward the farmhouse, whose windows glowed yellow in the darkening evening.
"There's history here you don't know about, my dear," Tobias said, kissing me on the head as we walked back to the house. The sun had sunk below the horizon, and a full moon hung in the sky, silhouetted behind blackened tree branches where the fire had torn through.
My eyes drifted to the silent, empty house I'd moved to the property. "Lots of history," I echoed. "Including what happened in that house; Maria came up empty on the diary."
Quinn slapped her thigh. "I almost forgot to tell you! I know what's making the banging noise."
"What?"
"I talked with Maria's cousin—he told me he's going to be doing some renovations on the house—and he heard it, too, when he was checking it out a few weeks ago."
"So, he heard the banging?"
"He did," she confirmed. "What we thought was a ghost? It was just the old metal in the roof contracting when the temperature dropped. It happens a lot in these old houses, apparently."
"Hmmm," I said.
Serafine looked doubtful, too. "Can we walk over? I'd love to see it."
"Sure," I said, shivering. Dinner was in the oven, so we had some time, but the full moon and the darkness blanketing the abandoned house gave me the heebie-jeebies. "This place creeps me out at night," I confessed.
"It has a sad feeling, I'll give you that," Serafine said as we approached. "But not evil."
"Can you tell what happened here?"
She stepped up onto the porch. "She fled," she said in a voice of wonder. "Had to leave everything behind."
"What?"
"There was a raid... she ran. She was planning on leaving anyway, but she didn't have time to pack. She grabbed money out of her parents' room and ran into the woods."
"Where did she go?"
"She went north," Serafine told me. "Another family member was there... she sent a letter to her parents when she arrived. They never got it. They're all still here, trying to communicate with one another."
"Their ghosts?"
"Their spirits," she corrected me. "There's a veil between them."
"So, the house is haunted," Quinn said.
As if in reply, there was a bang from upstairs.
"It is," Serafine said. "Hold on. It's good we're here tonight; the veil is thinnest."
"What about the knife?"
Serafine closed her eyes. "It was to be protection," she said. "It wasn't blood, she's saying. Just rust. She never used it. She still feels bad... says you'll find her in the records of New York City. She says to tell Maria."
Quinn and I exchanged looks in the light of the rising moon.
"Can you help them communicate?" I asked.
"I think so," she said. We were all quiet for several minutes. I could feel something from the house; something that made my skin prickle. Serafine murmured a few things in what sounded like French, made a few signs with her hand, and then rummaged in her blue bag again. A flame flared in the darkness.
"What's that?"
"Sage," she said. "It's done; the parents have peace, and they are willing to depart. Now, I want to smudge the place."
"It's not safe upstairs," Tobias warned her as she stepped up on the porch.
"The smoke will rise," she replied placidly, a small smile on her lips.
"Need company?" I asked.
"No," she said. "They asked me to come alone."
As we all watched, she stepped into the house, using the lighter as a candle. We tracked her progress from room to room by the glow in the windows; when she appeared at the door, I had to confess the house felt lighter. "All done," she said. "They might come back and visit from time to time, but they are free now."
"Thank you," I said.
"It does feel different," Quinn said slowly.
My phone beeped as we stood there.
"I think the casserole's done," I said. "We should head up. Anything else we need to do here?"
"No," Serafine said with a smile as we headed back up to the farmhouse. "Everyone here is at peace."
"I'm so relieved," I said. "Where did you learn to do all that?"
"I'm a fifth-generation voodoo priestess on my mother's side, and my paternal grandmother was a witch. I'm twice-blessed; I grew up with all this," she said.
"It must be so weird walking through the world and seeing and knowing all this... stuff."
"It adds depth," she said, "but it can be a challenge some days." Her smile curved into a grin. "But this evening, I confirmed what I've always thought; there's someone here watching out for you, Lucy Resnick."
Goose bumps broke out on my arms and legs. "Grandma Vogel?"
Serafine nodded. "She says
hello. She's delighted you're at the farm."
"She's not... trapped here, is she?"
"No, not at all. She's here because she wants to be; she can go at any time."
"That's a relief."
"Wait... there's one more thing."
"What?" I asked breathlessly.
Serafine's eyes were misty, as if she could see something the rest of us couldn't. "Got it," she said.
"What?"
"She told me to ask when you're going to make snickerdoodles."
I blinked at Serafine for a moment. Then I laughed; snickerdoodles had always been her favorite. "Tell her I'll make them tomorrow, just for her. And that I love her."
"She knows that already," Serafine said with a smile, and linked her arm in mine as we all headed back to my grandmother's cozy farmhouse.
More Books by Karen MacInerney
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The Dewberry Farm Mysteries
Killer Jam
Fatal Frost
Deadly Brew
Book 4, Title Forthcoming (Fall 2018)
The Gray Whale Inn Mysteries
Murder on the Rocks
Dead and Berried
Murder Most Maine
Berried to the Hilt
Brush With Death
Death Runs Adrift
Whale of a Crime
Claws for Alarm (Spring 2018)
Cookbook: The Gray Whale Inn Kitchen
Blueberry Blues (A Gray Whale Inn Short Story)
Pumpkin Pied (A Gray Whale Inn Short Story)
The Margie Peterson Mysteries
Mother’s Day Out
Mother Knows Best
Mother’s Little Helper
Tales of an Urban Werewolf
Howling at the Moon
On the Prowl
Leader of the Pack
Recipes
Deadly Brew (Dewberry Farm Mysteries Book 3) Page 19