by Alexie Aaron
“Can I ask the obvious question?”
“Sure go ahead.”
“Are you going to stick around or am I going to have to do something ungentlemanly?”
“I’m not planning on leaving here without Mia.”
“Good. Because the other guy in the picture wasn’t ever in the picture,” he snarled. “I’m just looking out for her, Ma’s orders.”
“Tell your ma I’m not going anywhere,” Burt said, “Are we square?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“You’re pretty polite for a deputy,” Burt remarked.
“Don’t plan on staying a deputy for long,” Tom replied as he opened the door.
“I like a man who knows his path in life,” Burt said and stepped into the house.
Everyone was talking at once. Mia just stood there with her mouth open, holding what was once a full tray of cookies.
“Is that the boat that was reported stolen?” John asked Tom.
“Don’t look at me, Whit took it,” Mia said as she turned around to get more cookies.
“Squealer,” Whit snapped back.
“Love what you’ve done here. All light, very nice,” Gerald said as he passed her coming out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of coffee cups.
“Consider it a compliment. Do you have any Splenda?” Bev asked, carrying a creamer and sugar bowl.
“I don’t know. I’ll look,” Mia said confused. She hadn’t even seen them come in the house. She rifled through the drawers and came up with five packets of Splenda when Sabine wafted in.
“There is no bad chi here at all?” Sabine whirled around. “Even my sinuses have cleared up.”
“Um good.” Mia began reloading the tray with cookies when she thought of something important. “Sabine.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you blab the state of my emotions, sex life or lack of quality underwear to anyone again, I will hunt you down, understand?”
“Oh, my. Yes, I sometimes just speak without thinking first.” Sabine stared at her a moment. “You really are glowing. I guess Mister Hicks is adequate in bed, yes?”
“Yes, Sabine he is, but don’t go spreading it around. Thank you.”
“Okay,” she said in a singsong voice and left the kitchen.
“Just adequate?” Burt’s voice said from behind her.
Mia jumped three feet. “Oh my... Burt, how long were you there?”
“I came in on the glowing part.” He squeezed her hand.
“Much much mucho more...”
“Stop torturing yourself, I know. Can I carry that?”
Mia handed him the tray, and the two ventured into the noisy room.
“May I have everyone’s attention please?” Gerald clapped his hands until it was quiet. “I really didn’t think I would be seeing you all so soon, but we have to move lightning fast. John will tell you why.”
“Folks, we did a bang up job Sunday on shutting down Steele and most of his followers. Unfortunately, he was just the front man for an evil that has come a courting. As far as we can tell, there once was an Indian woman who was ostracized, for whatever reason, from her village. She left and met with an unfortunate end in a swamp nearby. Her hatred must have been strong because she rose from the swamp one day to take her revenge on the village.”
“She disappeared after that time. Steele’s club entered the area, and the hag found like minds to seduce with her cannibalistic ways. We all know how that turned out. When we took out Steele, we thought we had taken out the evil. But folks, it still walks the county in the form of Sherry Martin.”
Although each person tried not to, their eyes eventually found Whit. He sat in stony silence.
“So where do we find this hag?” Bev asked.
“Tom, Whit and I have done some investigating, and we have come up with a viable place where she could have existed for over two hundred years. When the Perry Dam was built, the lowlands dried up and people began to build up the area. A modern neighborhood was planned, but bad times hit and only one house was built. Rose’s house rests on top of the bog in which the hag died.”
“Rose, the one who was killed by a lightning strike?” Bev asked. “The gossip?”
“Yes.”
“So, how do you get rid of an ancient evil hag?” Mia asked.
“May I?” Father Santos asked John.
“Yes, Father, go ahead.”
“She isn’t threatened by the church for she never had knowledge of Rome, let alone its followers. We will have to use as much natural knowledge as we can, and if that doesn’t work... Plan B.”
“Plan B?” Gerald asked.
“We blow the dam. It floods the area and sinks the hag back into her swamp,” John Ryan explained.
“That sounds drastic,” Bev pointed out.
“Plan Bs usually are, my dear,” Gerald pointed out.
“There’s another peril,” Angelo spoke up. “The hag is using Sherry Martin’s spirit. They are intertwined. Sherry should not be punished for an eternity because of this hag.”
“How do we separate them?” Bev asked.
“We need to lure Sherry away. Something strong, something she wanted most in life,” Sabine said.
“Whit, what would that be?” Tom asked his friend.
“She wanted the MoMA.”
“A museum?” Father Santos asked.
“No, Sherry always wanted to see one of her paintings displayed in the Museum of Modern Art in New York,” Whit explained.
Gerald flipped open his phone and found the number he was looking for. He raised a finger, shushed the group and dialed. “Murray, Gerald Shem here. You know the favor you owe me... Well, it’s collection time... Real simple, I want you to display a painting by Sherry Martin... as soon as possible. Hold on. Whit, how soon could we get a painting to New York?”
“My mother has one in Bucks County, Pennsylvania. I could have her and Dad drive it up tomorrow at the latest.”
“Expect it tomorrow. A...
“Carol,” Whit filled in.
“Carol Martin will be bringing it in... yes... good... Yes, this squares us. Talk to you soon. Bye.” Gerald closed his phone.
“Is he the guy who...” Bev started.
“Yes, he’s the one. Okay, Whit, call your parents.” Gerald sat down. “There’s the bait.”
Whit walked outside to make his call.
“Sabine, you’ll have to gather Sherry and bring her with you,” Bev instructed. “We’ll fly together. Gerald must have another friend...” She looked at him.
He nodded. “Dupage County airport is two hours away. I’ll have a pilot stand by.”
“Whit will have to go. Can we spare him?” Bev asked John.
“We’ll make do.”
Whit walked back in. “Mom is packing as we speak. The painting will be at the MoMA no later than ten tomorrow morning.”
“So, that’s Sherry. Anything else, Angelo?” John Ryan asked.
“We’re into new territory here. I have no idea beyond finding the bones. We may need a backhoe because the bones could be buried deep.”
“I can get a backhoe,” Mia spoke up. “I have a license.”
“You never cease to amaze me,” Bev said, patting her on the back.
“You don’t need it,” Burt told her. “Murphy said the bones were buried under the roses.”
“Has anyone been out there?” Mia asked.
“I have,” Whit answered. “She has a rose garden to the south of the house. A big massive plot. Take the hoe, you may need it,” he suggested.
“Okay, any last words before we begin?” Father Santos asked.
No one spoke.
“It’s eleven o’clock. Let’s meet up at Rose’s place at noon. Or as soon as you can. God be with us all. Amen.”
“Not one for long prayers,” Burt observed.
“Only the ones that count,” Mia said. “Want to ride with me, Cowboy?”
“Tempting offer. Do
es this excursion involve the undead?”
“Yes.”
“Certain death?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m in.” Burt smiled.
The group left quickly. Gerald had his phone pasted to his ear. Bev was counseling Sabine. Father Santos and Angelo were arguing about something. John Ryan had Tom pull the car out of the way so the out-of-towners could pull their cars out. Whit grabbed a hold of Mia’s arm.
“Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, Whit. What’s up?” Mia caught Burt’s eye, and he waited for her a few yards away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why?”
“I think I may have led you on. I can’t be with you. I can’t deal with this all the time, you know.”
“It’s okay, Whit. No harm done,” she lied. Mia patted his arm and walked away. Years of adoration fell away, exposing Whit for what he really was, an arrogant narcissistic bastard. He was not only rejecting her, but all the people who were risking their lives to save Sherry’s soul. They were all just freaks to him. “Well fuck you, Whit,” she thought and kept on walking.
“Anything I need to punch him in the nose for?” Burt asked.
“Nah, he’s not worth it. Come on. We have some fast driving to do.”
Burt watched as Mia ran to the garage and tossed every pickaxe, shovel, hoe and whatnot she could find into the back end of the truck. She added a barrel of rock salt.
Burt carried cans of kerosene and gasoline to the back and began carefully tying them in.
Mia dialed the phone and asked to speak to Hal Buford. “Hal, it’s Mia. Can I use 1572 for the afternoon? I’ll need the trailer... My truck... It’s not a sissy truck... Okay, be there in twenty.” She closed the phone and kissed Burt.
“What was that for?” he asked.
“For luck. Come on, the drive’s clear.” Mia hopped in the truck and backed it out. She stopped. “Coming or going?”
He said a prayer and got in.
Chapter Fifty-four
By the time Mia and Burt rolled up with the backhoe, the rest of the group had assembled in front of the late Rose Marie McCallum’s home. It was a cozy brick ranch with a simple, cement front porch and an attached garage. It would have been standard fare in the commuter communities that sprang up in the fifties, but out here it looked a bit out of place. There was a sidewalk that started at one edge of her property and led to the other.
Mia was ashamed of herself for thinking the front yard would be dotted with garden gnomes, lawn jockeys and pink flamingos. Rose actually had achieved a bit of elegance in her front yard. Spring had just begun, and already daffodils and tulips had eased their sinuous limbs out of the cold soil. The evergreen shrubbery was neatly trimmed, and a magnolia bush’s windburned blossoms were scattered across the yard.
“I was expecting a shack with a still out back,” Burt commented.
Mia laughed and pulled the truck into the yard. She carefully backed the trailer towards the lower edge of the property and the rose garden, where dozens of Styrofoam cones stood sentinel over the hibernating plants.
Burt hopped out and directed Mia down to the lowland. Burt looked around and either his sight was gone or the hag wasn’t about. Mia turned off the engine and got out of the truck. He watched as she too scanned the property.
“Nothing,” she said relieved. “I don’t know much about roses, but I thought they needed well-drained dry soil? Why plant them here?”
“Maybe she dug out the original lowland loam and brought in the right stuff?”
“And nudged a certain hag awake?” Mia nodded her head. “Could be. Let’s unload the backhoe and get started.”
Tom closed his phone. “According to Rose’s lawyer, the house belongs to Mia. Something about ‘a regret’ from years past.”
“Well, that’s convenient. Ask the new owner if she’d mind if we break and enter,” John Ryan instructed.
Tom trotted down and waited while Mia finished backing the machine off the trailer. He got her attention, and she turned it off in order to hear him. He explained what he had found out about the house.
“Why would she do such a thing?” Mia was shook. “Oh, hell. Tell them to break a window, blow the fucking roof off. I don’t care.”
Tom smiled and ran back to the group. “She said...”
“We heard her,” Bev said.
Tom stood by and watched his boss pick the lock. He paused to wonder how he picked up that skill but pushed it back in his mind to ponder later.
The door opened, and a rush of rose potpourri scent billowed out of the house. Sheriff Ryan insisted on going first “to protect the women” and soon allowed the rest into the living room. Whit walked over to a well-ordered bookcase and pulled out a leather-bound book.
“It’s a journal.” He turned around and picked up book after book, flipping open pages. “They’re all journals.”
Bev walked over and grabbed one, flipping to a random page and read. “Whoah nelly, did this broad have a penchant for gossip and adverbs.”
“Tom, why don’t you go and help Mia and Burt with the dig. Keep your radio on. We’ll sort out this mess and see if we can zero in on whether Rose was directly influenced by the hag.”
“Yes sir.” Tom was glad to be free of the cloying scent. It was like breathing poison. He turned on his radio and left the house.
Mia and Burt had finished removing the cones and found with a few jabs of a shovel and enough muscle that they could pull the roses from the yielding soil. Tom arrived to help them with the last few.
“Ever think you’d be doing this sort of thing when you signed on?” Burt asked the young man.
“It wasn’t in the brochure, that’s for certain,” Tom said as he hefted the last of the roses away from the plot.
“Now comes the fun stuff,” Mia said. “I’m going to pull back the soil with the rake. Keep an eye out for bones. They will be peat colored, brown or reddish brown, something like that. When you see them, get my attention. I don’t want to scatter them. It will be harder to deal with the situation if all the parts are here and there.”
“Tell me about it,” Tom said. “Whit had torn Steele into a million pieces. We had to turn the tomb into a giant wok to get all of him incinerated.”
“Yikes, I had no idea,” Mia said a bit stunned.
“He’s got some things he needs to work out,” Burt said looking at Mia.
“I see anger management classes in his future,” Tom said.
Mia hopped up in the backhoe and started it up. She agreed with Tom’s assessment of Whit, her bruised arms a recent reminder of what he was capable of doing when he got angry.
The noise of the backhoe filtered into the ranch house. Gerald and Angelo had just finished doing a sweep of the house. From the onset, there were signs that Rose had not been a stable individual. The contents of her pantry were alphabetized. Her bedroom was filled with covert videos taken of the citizens of the town. Gerald turned on the TV set and pressed play on the last video she watched.
It was a window shot of an older gentleman dancing in a woman’s dress. No doubt John would be able to identify the cross-dresser, but it really wasn’t their business so he ejected the film and turned off the set.
“Got something,” Bev called from the living room.
Gerald followed Angelo into the cramped room.
“It’s dated three years ago. She entitled it ‘Gardening Day,’ I won’t turn your stomachs with the mundane, but here’s the highlights: ‘Went to turn the soil in order to plant some potatoes and found a hand. It was reaching up out of the earth. It gave me quite a start. I dug around the hand and found it attached to an arm. The bones were old, much to my disappointment. After a lot of hard work, I unearthed a complete human skeleton. Mud and peat were packed in and around the body cavity, but I knew by the set of the hips it had to be a woman. Some old being that fell in a hole. Poor dear, I must take care of her. If I let the coroner know, she’ll just end up in
a museum somewhere, all her bits on display. Instead I made her a graveyard where I could visit her daily. I put her in momma’s old cedar chest. I had to move the bones a bit, but she fit oh so nice...’”
“Whit, run down and tell Mia to look for a cedar chest,” John ordered.
Whit ran out the front door.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Mia’s just pussyfooting out there afraid to lose any bones. Now she can dig in and get somewhere,” John explained.
“No problem, do you want me to continue?” Bev asked the group.
“Go ahead, dear, you have me on tenterhooks,” Gerald told her.
“She continues: ‘Oh so nice. I filled the box with rose potpourri and buried it deep. I planted roses over and around it...”
Tom’s voice broke over the radio, “Sheriff, get down here. There’s a problem. Burt’s on his back, and Mia’s beating at something in the air.”
“I fear the hag’s arrived,” Father Santos said as John, Gerald and Angelo ran to the aid of the four in the garden. “Sabine, you know what you have to do.”
“Yes, Father,” she said and got unsteadily to her feet.
“I’m with you, baby.” Bev reached out and took her hand.
Burt felt teeth sink into his thigh. He screamed in surprise and pain. Above him was a twirling mass of arms and legs. Two heads topped the hag, one young and beautiful and the other old and twisted. The twisted one bit and licked his skin through his clothes while the other one glared at someone running down the hill.
Mia launched herself on the mass. He could see her fighting, but the two intertwined beings were too strong for her. Burt heaved himself up and toppled the three to the ground.
“Sherry, stop!” Whit screamed.
Burt looked as the beauty turned and growled. “She sees you, Whit, keep talking.”
“Baby, I’ve been looking for you,” he started. “Good news, your painting ‘Springtime in Illinois’ is going to be displayed at the MoMA.”
The beauty stopped pulling Mia’s hair and looked at him again.