Samhain Secrets

by Jennifer David Hesse

  Great, I thought. Just great.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  I tried to sleep in on Wednesday morning, but it was a lost cause. I had too much on my mind. Beverly had told me to stay home in order to arrange my aunt’s funeral, so that’s what I did. I made an appointment with a funeral director, who, fortunately, was able to see me right away. He helped me select a funeral package within my grandma’s budget, and even showed me some ready-made headstones. I placed a rush order on the inscription, so the stone could be placed in time for the burial.

  After leaving the funeral parlor, I stopped by Our Lady of Mercy Catholic Church to speak with Father Gabe. Hearing Mrs. Hammerlin mention him the other day reminded me of the time I’d met the priest while investigating the death of an elderly parishioner. Father Gabe was warm and personable and, luckily, available to perform the service. As he explained to me, it didn’t matter that Josephine didn’t attend his church. As long as she had been baptized, she had a right to a Catholic funeral. That was a relief, since my grandmother was counting on it.

  I had no idea if that’s what Josephine would have wanted. She’d provided no clues about her last wishes. Would she have preferred to have her body cremated and scattered over field or forest? Or would she have liked a traditional Native American burial—which, as far as I knew, varied widely depending on tribe and geographical location?

  Or maybe she didn’t have any preference at all. Since the decision was left to me, I chose to honor Josephine in the tradition of our family. In doing so, I hoped to offer a measure of comfort and happiness to the ones she left behind.

  Three hours later, I was back home and on the telephone with my mom. I told her I’d booked the date, time, place, and pastor, and she confirmed who was coming. My family would descend upon Edindale in five days.

  When I hung up the phone, I paced around my house—from the living room to the kitchen to the study, back to the living room. The cat watched me nervously. “Sorry, Frisky,” I said once, as she darted from my path. “No, that’s not it. Whiskers? Shadow?” I shook my head and kept walking, from the front window, where I gazed out at the empty street, to the patio door and its view of the backyard that needed to be raked. As I paced, I realized I was avoiding the upstairs for a reason. I was troubled by my failed attempt at divination and my inability to come up with a useful spell. Why couldn’t I produce a magical solution? The Goddess had never let me down before.

  Circling back to my study, I stopped in the doorway and stared at my dark computer. All at once, I remembered my nightmare from last night. Maybe the Goddess hadn’t deserted me after all. I found my phone and called Farrah.

  “Hey, superstar. Are you busy today?”

  “I’m about to give a legal research demo to the new class of one Ls over here at the law school. You should see them. They’re all so cute and anxious. I don’t think we were ever so tense, were we?”

  “You weren’t, that’s for sure. Can you stop by later? I’m at home.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I busied myself with laundry and vacuuming, but I couldn’t escape my own growing anxiety. By the time Farrah arrived, I was ready for action. She, however, was ready for lunch. She raided my refrigerator and made herself a sandwich. Then we sat in the living room, where the cat was playing with a ball of yarn.

  “What are you going to call her?” asked Farrah. “How about Cocoa? No, wait. It should be something witchy. Salem?”

  “That was the cat’s name on Sabrina the Teenage Witch, remember? He was kinda snarky, as I recall. Plus, he was a he.”

  “I got it. Sammy, the Sam Hain cat.”

  “Actually, the m is silent. It’s usually pronounced sow-en.”

  “Right. I knew that. Let’s see. Hazel? Dreamy?”

  “Speaking of dreams . . .” I told her about my vision of Levi chasing Josephine in a scary forest.

  Farrah chewed her sandwich and gave me an appraising look. “With most people, I’d say a dream is just a dream. Knowing you, it’s probably a message or something. What do you think?”

  “I think I need to get back inside Levi’s cabin.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “I’m in. But how? You’re not proposing we break and enter.”

  “No, of course not. He’ll invite us in. The problem is, how can we get him to leave long enough for me to go through his papers?”

  Farrah crossed her legs and swung her foot as she thought. “What if we say we have car trouble? He comes out to look under the hood and you run inside.”

  “What if he doesn’t know anything about cars?” I shook my head. “I think we’re going to have to split up. What if I show up alone, he lets me inside, and then you create some kind of diversion to make him run outside? Like, set off some fireworks or something.”

  Farrah gaped at me. “Seriously? I’d blow off my fingers or start a forest fire. You want a distraction, let me wear a skimpy top and a short skirt. There’s your distraction.” She tugged at her suit skirt, which was already on the short side.

  “I don’t doubt your ability to get a man’s attention, but that’s only half the problem. How can we get him to leave the cabin with me still in it?”

  She had no response. I looked around the room, as if searching for an answer. The cat had abandoned the yarn and was now curled up in a patch of sun beneath the front window. She looked as if she owned the place.

  As I gazed at the kitty, an idea began to take shape. I just needed to be as stealthy as a cat.

  * * *

  We parked at the cabin office, so Levi wouldn’t happen to see us outside his window. Fortunately, the owner once again appeared to be absent. I cut the engine and turned to look at Farrah. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “Oh, yeah. No sweat. I’ll just knock on his door, tell him I’m helping you out, and bat my eyes. He’ll let me in, offer me a drink. I’ll ask for a tour of the cabin. When we’re upstairs, I’ll signal you in the window. You’ll sneak in and hide in the closet. Then I’ll ask him to show me the spot in the forest where he found the body. You’ll come in and snoop around, then call me when you’re out. Bada bing, bada boom.”

  She pulled a compact from her purse and touched up her lipstick. In the jeans and boots she’d borrowed from me, and her own low-cut white blouse, she looked like a model posing as a sexy hiker in a fashion magazine. I tried not to laugh. It was my nerves that were making me giddy. I couldn’t believe we were really doing this.

  We got out of the car and wished each other luck. While Farrah headed to Levi’s place, I darted to the tree line behind the cabins. I crept to a secluded spot with a view of Levi’s upstairs window and crouched in place.

  It was a cloudy, breezy afternoon. The longer I waited in the bushes, the more my doubts seeped in like a damp chill. There was too much that could go wrong with our plan. What if Levi locked the door after letting Farrah inside? Then I wouldn’t be able to get in. Or, what if he declined to show her his bedroom? Stranger things had happened. Or, what if he did, but they weren’t up there long enough? How was Farrah going to know when I was safely hidden?

  I was about ready to call her and abort the mission, when I saw a movement between the upstairs curtains. It was Farrah, with her back to the window. She raised her hand in a subtle, backward wave.

  I sucked in my breath and made a mad dash for the front door. It was unlocked. As quietly as possible, I pulled it open and stuck my head inside. From upstairs, I could hear my friend’s cheery voice.

  “There’s so much room up here! And look at this gorgeous quilt! What kind of stitch is this, do you suppose?”

  I let myself in and closed the door behind me. Praying there’d be enough space in the closet to hold me for a few minutes, I tiptoed across the room, grasped the knob, and pulled. It didn’t budge. I tried harder, but it was no use. The closet was locked. Dang it!

  Desperately, I searched the immediate vicinity for a key. Whoever heard of a locked closet in a cabin? What was in there, anyway?


  Finding no key, I whipped around and scanned the room for another hiding place. The top step creaked, and my heart skipped a beat. There I was, in the middle of the room, like a deer caught in the crosshairs.

  Dang, dang, dang!

  “Spider!” yelled Farrah. “I saw a spider! Kill it!”

  I let out my breath. It was time to cancel this farce. I hurried back to the front door but paused as the sofa caught my eye. It was situated at an angle, leaving a small gap next to the wall. Could I fit?

  “It was just there!” yelled Farrah, sounding hysterical.

  Good Goddess. I had to try. I owed it to Farrah, who was giving the performance of her life. I scooted the sofa another few inches from the wall and hurled myself over. Wedged in tight and facedown, I heard the stairs creak again. A few seconds later, Farrah called out in a calmer voice. “Never mind!”

  The stairs creaked a second time, and I heard Levi’s voice. “I’ll keep an eye out before I go to bed. Wouldn’t want to wake up next to a brown recluse.”

  “No doubt. You’ve already been through enough. Like finding that body. That must have been horrible for you.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would you mind showing me where it was? I know you showed Keli, but she has a terrible memory.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think it’ll be very helpful.”

  “Oh, please? I came all this way. I want to mark the spot on a map.”

  “Don’t you think the cops are on top of it?”

  “Who knows? Come on. Let’s go before it rains.”

  I heard the door open. Farrah could be very persuasive when she wanted to be. I imagined her grabbing Levi by the hand. He said, “Okay.” The door slammed, and the lock clicked over.

  I counted to ten, then shimmied out of my hiding place. Shaking out my hands, which had fallen asleep, I peeked out the window. Farrah and Levi were entering the woods. I swallowed. I really hoped this wasn’t a mistake.

  Turning to the desk, I observed the same stack of papers and manila folders as before. At this point, I wanted nothing more than to get out of there as quickly as possible. I rushed over and flipped through the folders, skimming labels and skipping past names I didn’t recognize—until I came to one I did know. Gil Johnson. I held the edge of the folder, curious about the contents, but then I saw the next file. It was the one I was really after. In the interest of time, I dropped Gil’s file back in place and opened up the one bearing Josephine’s name.

  The top sheet was a newspaper clipping from the Edindale Gazette. It was the most recent article about her death, the one that reported a family member had identified the body in the woods as that of Josephine O’Malley, 62, of Bentlee, Nebraska.

  I turned the entire stack over and began at the bottom, gingerly uncovering one page at a time in what turned out to be a photocopy parade of Josephine’s past. There were old documents, including her birth certificate and baptism record, yearbook photos, and even a copy of her local library card, complete with girlish signature. After that were voter registration cards—one in Illinois and one, a year later, in Missouri. Both were decades old. Next was a photograph of Josie at a protest rally. She carried a sign with the word SORGHUM in dripping red letters, under a superimposed skull and crossbones. As I stared at the picture, her flashing eyes and curled lips caught by the photographer mid-shout, I could almost hear the noise of the crowd and the rising cries of the passionate young activist.

  The next several pages contained names and addresses, including a lot of O’Malleys and Milan-nis. I experienced a little jolt when I saw my own name and address. There was a large red asterisk beside it.

  As I flipped through the pages, a postcard fluttered to the floor. I picked it up and knew right away it was one of Josephine’s, even though it wasn’t signed. Her handwriting was unmistakable. It was addressed to Gil Johnson and postmarked from South Dakota one month ago. The front featured an iconic image of Devils Tower. The back contained few words, but they were so weighty I had to sit down.

  Coming to E. in October. I’m going to make one last pitch for your cooperation, then I’m coming clean. It’s time, G. I know you don’t agree, but I have to do it.

  I blew out a breath. Incredible.

  I straightened the papers, returning them to their folder, and stacked the files as best as I could. In a daze, I picked up one of the loose papers lying on the desk. It was a fuzzy copy of a newspaper article from a 1978 edition of the New York Times. The headline cut like a razor: “Sorghum Bombing Claims Two Lives.” I skimmed the article, halting when I reached a section that was highlighted in florescent yellow and circled in red. It was the names of the slain security guards: Robert Treeleaf and Alphonse Mendona.

  A scraping sound on the window wrenched me from the past. It was a tree branch, buffeted by the wind. I stood up, suddenly conscious of where I was—in the midst of committing my own crime. I wondered what the penalty was for trespassing.

  With a backward glance at the desk, I hurried to the front door. After making sure the coast was clear, I let myself out—only to realize the lock was a dead bolt. I wouldn’t be able to relock it without a key. No matter. I needed to get away from here. I ducked around the corner and leaned against a picnic table.

  My mind whirred. The papers I’d seen suggested Josephine had some connection with the Sorghum bombing, just as I had speculated. At a minimum, Levi must have thought there was a connection. Apparently, Gil was involved, too. I couldn’t imagine how Levi obtained the postcard meant for Josephine’s old pal. Did Gil even receive it?

  More importantly, why did Levi have all those papers? Was he writing a book about the bombing? Perhaps a historical fiction novel, or a nonfiction account of the incident?

  Or did he have a special interest in the victims? Maybe he was related to one of them. Maybe he was out for vengeance.

  One thing was clear: he didn’t happen to innocently meet Josephine on a hiking trail. He came here to track her down. He followed her—just like in my dream.

  And now he was taking Farrah to the scene of the murder.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The wind whipped my hair as I stood under the trees next to Levi’s cabin. I needed to call Farrah to let her know she could come back. I looked at my phone, then slapped my forehead. There was no signal.

  The more I thought about Farrah alone in the forest with a man who wasn’t who he said he was, the more worried I became. I had never thought of Levi as dangerous, but what did I know? What if he was one of those psycho writers in a Stephen King novel?

  Without further delay, I took off down the hiking trail. Clouds blotted the noonday sun, making the forest dark and dreary. I tried to comfort myself with the knowledge that Levi should have nothing against Farrah. She wasn’t named in his list of people related to Josephine. Still, I walked faster and faster until, before I knew it, I was jogging, and then racing, down the trail. I dodged branches and jumped over rocks and roots, picking up steam as I ran. At first, I thought I would approach them silently, see what was going on, and try to get Farrah’s attention. Now, I was so worked up, I threw caution to the wind and tore through the trees like a madwoman.

  Suddenly, I was upon them—so abruptly, I almost ran right past them. I skidded to a stop, panting and red-faced. I must have looked wild and crazy. They both gawked as if they’d just witnessed me land before them in a flying saucer. Clutching my side, I bent over to catch my breath.

  Farrah found her voice first. “Keli? What—what on earth are you doing here? Are you okay?”

  As my heartbeat finally returned to normal, I looked at them again and realized I had worried for nothing. They stood next to each other as comfortably as old friends. Levi, leaning on a walking stick and looking cute in his plaid flannel shirt, gazed at me with a mixture of curiosity and concern.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound casual. “I just . . . that is, I—I wanted to catch up with you. I wanted to see the place again, where my aunt wa
s killed. I ended up taking the day off from work, so I thought I’d join you.”

  “Oh,” said Farrah, still looking confused.

  “I tried to call you,” I said, “but you must not have phone service out here.”

  “It’s real spotty,” said Levi. “And it’s worse in bad weather. It’s very frustrating.”

  “That must be it,” I said, motioning toward the sky. The clouds looked like they could break open at any second.

  “We were heading back,” said Farrah. “I didn’t want to get caught in a storm. Are you sure you really want to see the site now?”

  I hesitated. Although it was only an excuse before, now that I was here, I found that I did want to see the spot again.

  “Are we very far from it?”

  “It’s about a five-minute walk from here,” said Levi.

  “Well . . .”

  “All right,” said Farrah, seeing that I was serious. “Let’s make it quick.”

  I turned to Levi. “You don’t have to come with us. I think we can find it from here. It’s by that cairn, right?”

  “I don’t mind,” he said, falling into step behind us.

  We hurried along the twisting path without speaking. Before long, Levi signaled that we’d reached the place. It was a good thing, because I probably would have missed it. You had to know precisely where to look to see the stacked stones.

  “I’ll just be a minute.” Leaving Farrah and Levi on the trail, I hurried over to the spot Levi had shown me before. For a moment, I stood motionless, feeling the breeze on my face and listening to the trees creak and whistle overhead. I didn’t know what Levi was up to, but I felt sure he’d told me the truth about this place. This was where Josephine had died. Of course, I could always ask Detective Rhinehardt for confirmation.

  I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures of the stones and trees. Belatedly, I wished I had an offering or memorial to leave here, such as flowers or, better yet, seeds.