by Alexie Aaron
“Are you planning on getting weird?” Beth asked, getting up and walking around the table. “Are you ill?”
“No, maybe...” Mia drew her thoughts together before speaking. “This box is from an old house and sometimes...”
“Old things carry spirits and memories,” Beth finished. “That’s why people shouldn’t really bring in an antique unless they know who had it first.”
“Yes, but there’s more. I sometimes get sucked in mentally and get...”
“All weird?”
Mia nodded.
“Are you sure you want to open it?”
“No, I don’t want to open it, but I feel I must,” Mia said as she played with the catch.
“Tell you what. Why don’t you and I work on April’s problem for a while, and if you still want to open this box after we get all my homework finished, then have at it.”
“You’re a smart woman, Beth.”
“Yep, that’s why I’m an underpaid research assistant for a fly-by-night paranormal investigation company.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sherry dropped her paintbrush into the brush cleaner while she surveyed her latest attempt to capture her feelings on the canvas in front of her. The swirling blue-gray mass was centered on the colorful prism of light she had started with. With a deft hand, she managed to portray the mass’s movement, eating away at all the brightness around it.
The medium was oil, and the style was abstract. Sherry took a step back and marveled at the dabs of eaten color, carefully placed. It wouldn’t be long before the mass took all the color and revealed itself. This was going to be her breakout piece, her way into the MoMA.
~
Whit was responding to a report of graffiti on the back of the courthouse when he saw a familiar derriere ease itself out of one of the windows in the back of the library. There was no mistaking Mia Cooper’s figure, and if she didn’t get her second foot firmly planted on the ledge, he was going to see her insides out on the cement of the alley.
“Whatcha doing?” he called up to her. He suppressed a laugh as her whole body tensed, and as she eased herself to face him, he could tell she was embarrassed.
Mia looked down at him and ran thirty-four lies through her mind, testing out each one before replying.
“Hanging around, you?”
“Ah, working.” Whit put a hand over his eyes to shade them from the sun. “You wouldn’t know anything about the spray paint d’art over on the courthouse, would you?”
Mia carefully crossed one leg over the other in a failed attempt to look casual. “Nope, haven’t seen a thing.”
“Do you need some help down? Or were you going in?” Whit questioned her.
“Thanks, but I can manage,” Mia said, pulling her Cubs hat from her back pocket and placing it on her head.
“Do you mind telling me what you’re doing?”
“Testing out a theory. Beth and I found some papers missing from the preservation room. I was looking into whether you could get in or out from the room’s window.”
“Do ya think maybe someone may have just checked them out?” Whit’s sarcasm was barely veiled.
“You can’t check these out.”
“So we’re talking about a theft?” he asked.
“Oh, we’re talking about someone coming in here and taking some papers not belonging to them,” she explained.
“I guess that qualifies as theft. Why don’t you climb back in. I’ll come up, and you can show me what’s missing.”
“Sounds reasonable to me,” she said, turning around and leaning back in the window. “See you inside.”
Whit shook his head and started walking around the building. He heard the roar of a truck’s engine in the alley, but his curiosity with Mia’s antics was all consuming and so he continued around the building looking for a side entrance. He didn’t find one, so he had no other recourse but to go to the front of the library to enter.
~
Mia carefully lowered the box from the sling she had made from her and Beth’s jackets into the back of the truck where Beth was waiting. Beth undid the sling and placed the box in the F150 toolbox before tossing the jackets back up to Mia.
Mia tossed the bundle into the room before climbing back in. She watched as Beth drove her truck back to the parking area before closing the window.
Mia heard Whit’s boots on the wood floor before he entered the room. She sat down and waited.
“So, what’s this about a theft?” he asked, entering the room.
“Beth and I were looking through the papers on the Murphy Estate when I went nosing around and found this,” she said, holding up a faded piece of paper. “It references a box of papers pertaining to the houses you and I looked at the other day. So, I go looking for it and find nada, nothing but an empty space where the papers should be. I consulted the librarian, and she didn’t have a clue. Then, I gets to thinking...”
“Hold on, who’s Beth?”
“That would be me,” a small voice spoke from the doorway. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Did I miss anything?”
“Just this whack-job on the ledge,” Whit explained.
“I don’t understand.”
“Remember when I was telling you I thought the thief would have snuck out with the documents through the window?” Mia started. “Well, there’s no way off of the ledge.”
Beth ran to the window. “You didn’t.”
“She did,” Whit answered. “This dim bulb was climbing out the second story window while you were in the bathroom.”
“No, come on, this is a joke.”
“Caught her myself.” Whit put his hands on imaginary suspenders.
“Oh, my.” Beth sat down with a thump. “Are we in trouble?”
“For climbing out a window?” Mia snorted.
“You be quiet,” he warned Mia. “No, you’re not in trouble. Unless you’re responsible for the graffiti...” seeing Beth’s puzzled expression, he stopped. “No, you’re fine.”
“Where were these papers?” Whit asked Mia.
“Up top in the right hand corner, in a lock box I assume from the scratches in the wood.”
“You take fingerprints, CSI?”
“Don’t joke. This is serious stuff.”
Whit dragged a chair away from the table and used it as a step. He tested the strength of the chair with one leg before lifting his entire weight. He was looking at a dusty shelf with the exception of a clean square where something had rested for a long time and had been recently moved. Sure enough, there were scratch marks as Mia claimed.
He got back down, dusted off his hands on his pants before replacing the chair. “Do you know the value of the papers?” he asked Mia.
“Nope, just some diaries and household account papers. You know, historical stuff,” Mia said, tapping her index finger on a piece of paper.
“Well, wait here and let me talk to Miss Osborne.” Whit walked out the door.
Beth expelled a large amount of air. “I was holding my breath nearly the whole time. What the hell, Mia?”
“How was I to know he was in the alley?” She got up and glanced out the door. “Good thing we asked Miss Osborne about it before...” she stopped as Whit returned with the librarian in tow.
“Ladies, Deputy Martin has looked into the matter, and I think we will just leave it in his hands. Thank you for your concern.”
Mia and Beth nodded.
“Alright, I’ll just get back to the desk before anything else walks out of here,” she said curtly and turned on her heel and walked away.
“So, you heard her, no more climbing out of windows.”
“I heard, loud and clear. Now go away. Beth and I still have work to do before nightfall.” Mia shooed him with her hand.
“Beth, I’m releasing Mia into your custody. Hey, Mia, could I talk to you in private for a minute?”
“I was just going to the copy machine, why don’t you talk here.” Beth gathered some papers and left.
Whit wa
ited until she was out of earshot. “Don’t let my wife know you were out at the hollow with me. Oh, and you paid me to pound stakes,” he said quickly. “Got it?”
“Sure, Whit. Can I ask why?”
“No.”
“Okay, no problem.”
“You haven’t told anyone else have you?”
“I may have mentioned it to Burt, but he wouldn’t know Sherry. At least I don’t think he would.”
Whit rolled his neck. “Maybe explain to him that it would be...”
“No problem, I’ll take care of it.” Mia smiled. “Thanks for not running me in.”
“Please no more CSI. Leave the detecting to the professionals,” he cautioned.
Mia nodded and watched as he walked over to the librarian. Whit sure did look fine leaving.
“I don’t even want to know what that expression is,” Beth said as she returned. “I think I have all the stuff I need for tonight. When are you going to open the... you know.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t do it until you’re around. Maybe that Burt guy could be there as a stabilizing influence.”
“Burt, stabilizing...” Beth snorted and started to laugh.
“I was going to ask Whit, but he’s conflicted.”
“Conflicted or not, he sure looks good in a uniform,” Beth sighed. “Remember our deal.”
“Yes, you help me with the box, and I help you guys find Murphy’s basement,” Mia said, too quickly.
“Murphy?”
“Oh, shit.”
“Out with it,” Beth demanded.
“April Johnston’s house was built by Stephen Murphy, right?”
“Yes.”
“So it would be Murphy’s basement then, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes, but you aren’t telling me everything. Maybe I’ll just stroll over and talk to...”
“Shit, okay, Murphy’s still there at the house.”
“Really, an actual ghost?”
“He ain’t alive, but he’s kicking.” Mia put her head in her hands. “Can we leave it at that?”
“Sure, for now. Come on, I’m going to be late.”
Beth helped her to replace the estate papers in the folder and return it to the shelf. Mia tried to scoot by Old Man Taylor, but he held her with his eyes. She whispered, “I promise to return the box soon.” He nodded and went back to his corner to watch over his books.
Chapter Eighteen
Beth breezed into the B&B, nodding at Maryanne the proprietress before climbing the stairs to her room. Inside, she stripped off her day clothes and proceeded to dress for the investigation. Black jeans were pulled on over long underwear. She grabbed a fresh PEEPs tee from her bag. The marshmallow chicks chasing the ghost always made her smile.
She was in such a hurry, she almost forgot the most important item of her gear. Liberating it from her purse, she walked over to the mirror and donned the crucifix her mother had brought back from Rome.
Amber was waiting for her in the small parlor off the reception area. “What took you so long? We’re going to be late.”
“Sorry, I met up with Mia Cooper and convinced her to help us find the cellar.”
“How did you manage that?” Amber asked impressed.
“Did her a favor.” Beth smiled.
“I had a vision this morning,” Amber said in a low voice. “April and Burt were in it.”
“Ooh, do tell.”
“Come on, I’ll tell you in the car,” Amber said as Maryanne passed by them on the way to the kitchen.
Beth smiled, knowing that Amber was full of shit. “Funny thing about visions, I had one this morning about you and Mike...” she paused, enjoying the confusion on Amber’s face. “You were all wrapped up in each other. I wonder what it could mean,” she said as she held the door for Amber.
~
Mia was sweating bullets as she waited for Pastor Anderson to walk back into his office. She had just taken an old, worn altar cloth from the linen cupboard when she heard footsteps. Her small stature had its advantages. She folded herself up under the bottom shelf and prayed he wouldn’t notice the closet door ajar.
When the danger had passed, Mia exited from her hiding place, tiptoeing her way to the church. Saint Michael’s was one of the few places that Mia felt safe. Sure, it had its human congregation that all but shunned her as a child, but the church in this case was much more than the people in it. Saint Michael’s very foundations rested on consecrated ground. The founding members decided that no crypt would be built under their place of worship. That way, no rich donor buying his way into heaven would rest his tainted, rotting flesh under the feet of the truly repentant.
Mia was on the fence about the heaven-hell aspect of death, but she knew that the majority of people left this earth for somewhere. Her concern was to stay out of the way of the ones that stayed.
She tucked the cloth under her shirt and fastened her jacket tightly around her. As she entered the nave, the Ladies Aid arrived to polish the pews.
“Evening, ladies,” Mia said pleasantly as she passed them on the way out of the church.
Dumbstruck to see Mia Cooper in church, the women just stared until Harriet observed, “Does it look like Mia is putting on a little weight?” This launched a bevy of conspiratorial whispers.
~
Sherry was standing in front of the house she so coveted. It no longer mattered that someone had hung himself in the attic. She wanted the house. She felt an energy there that she somehow knew was crucial to her art.
She didn’t feel the chill in the air as the sun sank below the tree line. Nor did she see Daisy’s frantic waving of her handkerchief to warn her. All Sherry knew was that the front door was open, and she needed to go inside.
~
Whit waited outside the station for his wife to pick him up. For economy, they shared the sedan. She was already thirty minutes late and wasn’t picking up the home phone or her cell.
“Whatcha doing?” Mia’s voice broke into his thoughts.
He looked over to where she had pulled her truck over. With an eye out for his wife, he approached the Ford. “Sherry’s got the car and isn’t answering her phone.”
“She could be lost in the muse... or whatever they call it,” Mia suggested. “Want a lift home?”
Whit looked at his watch and scanned the street. “Sure.” He walked around and got in the truck. “Seems we’ve been meeting a lot lately.”
“Small town,” Mia said as she turned the truck around and headed towards Whit’s neighborhood.
“What were you doing at the station?”
“Just driving by on my way to the hollow. I saw poor, sorry-assed Whitney Pee Pants standing all alone on the side of the road. So, I says to myself, ‘There’s a man in need of a rescue.’”
“That’s Deputy Pee Pants to you.”
“You’re off duty.”
“I’m still wearing the badge,” he said, tapping his chest. “Wouldn’t Main be a quicker way from your house to the hollow?”
“You know why I can’t drive down Main.”
“Oh, sorry, the cemetery is on Main,” he remembered. “Is there something you can take?”
“You mean something to make me not see ghosts? Dear lord, if there were something, I’d be on it.”
“I meant for the anxiety,” he clarified.
“Whit, I have tried, but pills leave me unable to help myself.” Mia pulled into Whit’s drive. “Well, this is you.”
Whit looked out the window and noticed the sedan was gone. “I wonder where she is.”
“Maybe she ran to the art store in Elgin,” Mia suggested. “I hate to be a snot, but I should have been at April Johnston’s house a half hour ago.”
“You’re throwing me out of your truck?”
“Yep, get out. Oh, and if Sherry doesn’t come home, give me a call, and we’ll go out on a Sherry hunt.”
Whit opened the door. “Can I have your phone number, please?”
“Give me your cell.”
He handed it over, and she typed in her number. Her phone rang in her pocket. Mia reached in and disconnected the call. “Here, just hit redial,” she said, handing his phone back.
He stepped out and shut the door. Mia backed the truck out and retraced her route until she was once again on her way to the hollow.
~
“Well, look who’s gracing us with her presence,” Mike said, his eyes following the pickup as Mia parked.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, Beth made a deal with her,” Burt explained without looking up from the photocopies of the Murphy estate papers. “She’s going to help us find the cellar.”
“Really, I wonder what kind of deal Beth had to make.”
“Hope she didn’t sell her soul...” Burt laughed. “Oh, I forgot, she already did that to us.”
Mia walked over to the large van and cleared her throat. “I’m looking for Beth.”
“She’s inside running cables,” Burt said. “I hear you’re going to give us a hand tonight.”
“I’m going to help you find the cellar. Beth thought I may be of some help. I’d been out here before they renovated. Used to be a great make out spot,” she said offhandedly.
“Really, do tell us all about it,” Mike said interested.
Mia just looked at him and shook her head. “Burt, if we could get on with this, I have somewhere I have to be later.”
“Okay, I haven’t got the permission from April yet to...”
“Oh, fine. Leave it to me. You got paperwork or something for her to sign?” Mia asked impatiently.
“Well, no. This kind of thing never came up,” he explained to the night air as Mia had already left and was walking into the house in search of April.
~
Sherry let her hand caress the banister as she climbed the stairs. The house’s electric lights danced in the reflective surface of the varnished woodwork.
She heard music coming from the direction of the master suite. The light from the hall barely penetrated the room, so she reached into a closet and pulled a string and was rewarded with enough illumination to see the bedroom that she so wanted as hers. The ceiling was trimmed with an ornately carved cornice board. She followed the winged-bird pattern around the room. The more she looked, the more she felt a warm feeling flow in and around her body.