“But this is different?”
Luther nodded. “According to Sean, it is. Girl died out there last night. Sean says it’s pretty unusual and he’d like me to have a look.”
“Do you have to go right now?” asked Celeste, staring up at him. Her fingers danced up his torso and neck until reaching his lips where they lingered.
He took her fingers in his hand and kissed them, then planted another kiss on her lips. “Unfortunately I do. From what Sean said, this girl comes from a pretty rich family. Which is good. Lately I’ve had a few too many cases that didn’t really pay.”
She frowned. “All right, I understand.”
Luther looked to the curtained windows. “Sorry I have to leave you here while the sun’s up. Not sure if I’ll be back tonight or tomorrow, but you can stay as long as you like.”
“Thanks, but I should probably head home.” Celeste moved away from him and pulled the sheets off her body. She walked over to the chair where her clothes lay and began pulling them back on.
“How are you gonna do that?”
“My car windows are pretty heavily tinted with UV shielding and my building’s got an underground parking garage. Once I get there, I’ll be fine.”
Luther climbed out of bed and wrapped his arms around her as she finished pulling on her dress. They kissed one final time.
“Call you when I get back?” he asked.
“You’d better.” Celeste kissed him again, this time biting his lower lip. “Or else I’ll come find you.”
She pulled away from him and picked up her purse. After slipping on her shoes, she walked to the bedroom door, giving him a seductive glance over her shoulder and wiggling her fingers at him.
Luther watched her go and once he heard the door closed he sighed, glancing down. “Guess that’ll have to be a cold shower…”
* * *
Sean Powell had already started cutting into his waffles when he heard the diner’s door open. He looked up, and adjusted his glasses, giving a half-hearted smile when he saw the tall, broad-shouldered form of Luther Cross enter the diner.
Luther wore a dark suit and matching trench coat with a red tie and sunglasses covering his eyes. He took off his leather gloves and stuffed them into his pockets, then removed the coat and dropped it into the booth before sliding in beside Sean.
“You’re late,” said Sean.
“Sorry about that. Traffic on I-90.” The waitress came by and Luther smiled at her when she arrived. “Two eggs, sunny-side up with a side of bacon and hash browns. And coffee, of course.”
The waitress jotted down the information and left. Luther leaned back against the booth and stretched his arms along the length of the bench. “So, about this case.”
“Not a whole lot to tell at this point,” said Sean. “Some kids were trespassing in White Cemetery last night and one of them ended up dead.”
“Cause?”
“That’s a good question,” said Sean. “I’ve got a buddy on the force, he said they aren’t really sure.”
“What do the kids say?”
“They—the ones who are talking anyway—say she was run down by a car. The same one that chased them through the cemetery.”
Luther pulled his arms down from the bench when the waitress brought his coffee. He took a drink and thought on the information. “Any marks on the girl? Anything that would indicate she was hit by a car?”
Sean shook his head. “Nope. Official cause is heart failure.”
“About her family…”
“Yeah, yeah…” Sean reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he passed to Luther. “The girl’s name is Jenny Graeber. That’s her family’s address. Her father’s some kind of investor or something.”
“And you think they’ll be open to me coming up for a visit?”
“They’re expecting you, in fact,” said Sean, raising the cup to his lips. “I told them that you’re an expert in these kinds of weird things and that you’d be happy to give them a hand.”
Luther gave a nod of satisfaction. “Very nice.”
The waitress came by again, this time with Luther’s food and she set the plate down in front of him. Sean watched as the paranormal investigator began eating. “So, this sound like something you’re gonna look into?”
Luther waited until he chewed and swallowed a forkful of eggs and potatoes. “I’m already here. Might as well have a word with them.”
“I got you an appointment at their house. One o’clock. Don’t be late.”
“Am I ever?”
Sean scoffed and threw up his hands. “Yes. Today. Like, fifteen minutes ago.”
Luther shrugged. “You don’t count, Powell.”
Sean shook his head and chuckled. “Yeah, whatever. Just be there on time, okay? These guys aren’t the type of people you keep waiting.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”
“And what about me?”
“I already told you, you don’t count.”
“I mean what about my finder’s fee?”
Luther set down the knife and fork and washed down his food with another sip of coffee. “Well, if there’s something to this case, then I’ll give you five percent.”
“Five? Make it ten.”
Luther laughed. “Keep dreaming, Powell.”
* * *
The 1969 black Camaro rolled to a stop in front of the security checkpoint just outside the Barrington gated community. Luther rolled down his window and handed the man on duty his business card.
“Luther Cross, I’ve got an appointment to speak with the Graeber family.”
The guard read the card—LUTHER CROSS, PARANORMAL INVESTIGATOR—and gave Luther a skeptical look. “Just a minute, sir. I’ll call to confirm.”
Luther nodded and sat back in his car. He turned up the volume on his car’s speakers to better hear Marvin Gaye’s voice as he waited for the guard to confirm his story. After a minute or two, the gate opened.
“Go on ahead, they’re waiting for you.”
Luther nodded his thanks and drove past the gate. The community consisted of narrow, winding roads that drove past well-manicured lawns and massive homes. Luther loved the people who lived in these places—so image conscious that they would pay through the nose for someone like him to get rid of their problems.
He found the address for the Graeber house and pulled into their roundabout driveway. He stepped out of the car and walked up to the front door, pressing the button and a loud gong sound rang through the house.
The door opened and a woman in her thirties with short blond hair stood on the other side. “Are you Mr. Cross?”
“I am. Mrs. Graeber?”
“Miss. I’m Sarah, Zack’s sister—Jenny’s aunt.” She stepped aside. “Come in.”
Luther entered and removed his overcoat and gloves. Sarah held out her arm.
“You want me to take that for you?”
“Thanks.” Luther handed her the coat.
“I could take your glasses, too.”
“No, that’s okay,” said Luther, withdrawing from her outstretched hand. “My eyes are a bit light-sensitive.”
“Okay, well just follow me.”
Luther walked behind Jenny across the marble foyer. The ceilings were high and he admired the ornate staircase leading upstairs. They walked around that and into a room behind the staircase. Ceilings were just as high as the foyer, with hardwood floors. Sliding glass doors led out to a veranda and against one wall was a couch where a couple who looked in their forties sat on the white, leather couch. The woman looked like she was in a state of shock and her husband had his arm around her, comforting her. She held a framed photograph in her hands, of a pretty young girl with blond hair.
“Zack?” asked Sarah. “This is Mr. Cross.”
Zack Graeber stood from the couch. He had hair that matched that of his daughter and his sister and offered his hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m Z
ack Graeber. You’ve already met my sister, I see. And this—” He gestured to his wife, who still stared at the photograph. “This is Kathy, my wife.”
“It’s good to meet you all,” said Luther. “May I sit?”
“Oh yes, of course.” Zack gestured to a recliner near the couch. Luther settled into the comfortable chair as Zack looked at his sister. “Could you get Mr. Cross some coffee?”
Sarah nodded and excused herself. Zack leaned forward on the couch, rubbing his hands together and staring at the ground. “I’m…I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to do here.”
“Just tell me about Jenny.”
Zack sighed. “Well, the coroner said it was heart failure. But that just doesn’t make any sense, does it? Jenny was seventeen and in perfect health.”
“No history of heart disease? Either her or in the family?”
Zack shook his head. “Nothing like that.”
Sarah returned with the coffee and handed it to Luther. She looked at her brother. “I’m gonna make some calls. Do you need anything else?”
Zack shook his head. “No, thanks, Sarah.”
Luther sipped his coffee before continuing. “And she died on Cuba Road?”
The father nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“The road…” Kathy looked up from the photograph, her cheeks wet with tears. “It’s that road.”
Zack sighed. “Jenny…was brought home by the cops a few times. Her and her friends liked to drive out to Cuba Road and scare themselves. You know, the ghost stories and everything.”
“Sean tells me that her and her friends were trespassing in the cemetery. Was this the first time?”
Zack looked at Kathy, who had returned to staring at Jenny’s photo. He patted her knee. “It wasn’t. They’d gone in there before.”
“Sean tells me her friends saw a car, do you know anything about that?”
The father’s brows came together. “A car? This is the first I’ve heard of it. But if there was a car, then wouldn’t there be some indication that she was hit?”
“It’s the road, it took her away from us,” said Kathy.
Zack put his hands on Kathy’s shoulders to try and calm her down. “Please, honey. Don’t—”
Luther held up a hand. “It’s okay, Mr. Graeber. This actually might be helpful.”
Zack hesitated but followed instructions and allowed his wife to continue speaking. Kathy looked up from the photograph and stared at Luther’s sunglasses.
“It was the road, wasn’t it? There’s something there,” she said. “It’s why they always went up there. They wanted to see a ghost.”
Luther relaxed in his chair. He had hoped the mother might know something useful, maybe even still share a connection with her daughter. But mostly she was just rambling. “Do you have the names of her friends? The ones who were with her last night. I’d like to speak with them.”
Zack nodded. “Just give me a minute, I’ll write them down for you."
* * *
Once Luther walked out of the Graeber house, he saw a police officer leaning against the hood of his car, arms folded across his chest. The officer was slightly older than Zack Graeber and he had a scowl on his face as soon as he set eyes on the paranormal investigator.
“Luther Cross. Thought I made things clear to you last time you showed your face around here.”
“Good to see you too, Turner.” Luther took out a gold case and removed a cigarette from it, placing it between his lips. He lit it with the monogrammed lighter and sucked on the end of the cigarette. After exhaling the smoke, he gestured to the cop. “You mind getting your ass off my car? Bacon grease isn’t good for the paint.”
“Always the comedian,” said Turner, but he still did as Luther ordered, albeit slower than the investigator would like. Turner dropped his hands and rested them on his belt. Luther noticed that his right hand lay directly on the butt of his holstered gun.
“Something I can do for you, Turner?” asked Luther.
“Funny, I was about to ask you the exact same thing.” Turner looked up at the house. “Nice place, huh? The Graebers are pretty well off.”
“Is that so?” Luther dragged on the cigarette.
“These people just suffered a pretty big loss. That was their only daughter who died last night.”
“Died or killed?”
“She died of heart failure, it’s as simple as that. A senseless tragedy,” said Turner. “So why don’t you do the right thing for once and leave these people to deal with this themselves. They don’t need some slick con artist exploiting their grief.”
“What makes you think that’s what I’m doing?” asked Luther. “You know as well as I do the strange things that happen on Cuba Road. The floating orbs in the cemetery. The disappearing house. The wandering hitchhikers.”
“Oh please.” Turner scoffed. “They’re just stories. You know the worst thing on Cuba Road? It’s not the ghosts that supposedly haunt the place. It’s the kids who believe this crap and come out here. They speed down the road blasting music and wake the neighborhood. They break into the cemetery and vandalize the headstones. That’s the real threat. Nothing supernatural about it, just some idiot kids stirring up trouble.”
“A seventeen-year-old girl in perfect health. No history of heart trouble. Dies of sudden heart failure.” Luther took another drag and blew the smoke in Turner’s face. The cop cringed but otherwise maintained his stoicism. “That doesn’t strike you as odd, Turner?”
Turner waved the smoke from his face. “Don’t play any games with me, Cross. You know how many people have asked me about you? They get your card from one of their friends who was stupid enough to fall for your parlor tricks and then they think the leaky pipes in their home means that there’s a ghost haunting the place.”
Luther walked around the hood of the car and approached the driver’s side door. He opened it and got inside, stamping out the cigarette in the ashtray before starting up the car. Luther lowered his sunglasses and stared at Turner with his blood-red eyes. Turner looked back at him through the passenger side window.
“Nice contacts,” he said.
“Y’know what your real problem is, Turner?” asked Luther.
Turner sighed. “No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”
“You’re jealous because not only can I do your job better than you, but I also get paid more to do it.”
Luther laughed as he started up the car and drove away. Turner huffed and walked to his car, which was parked in the spot behind where Luther’s had just left. “Damn prick.”
* * *
“It was…unreal…”
Zoe Chandler sat across from Luther in the coffee shop, brushing strands of her brown hair from her face as she stared at her iced drink. He’d already tried to interview all of Jenny’s other friends. Some were in shock and wouldn’t say a word, others couldn’t provide much more than he already knew. Zoe Chandler was his last hope to try and get some hint as to what happened.
Luther had removed his sunglasses, covering up his unique eyes with colored contacts. It wasn’t something he liked to do as it interfered with his ability to influence people, but he got the sense that Zoe wanted to talk about what happened.
“How often did you and your friends drive down the road?” asked Luther.
Zoe shrugged. “Once every other month or so. Little more frequently in the summer when there wasn’t anything else to do.”
“Did you ever see anything before last night?”
She shook her head. “No, that was the first time. I mean, we’d heard stories about the floating orbs and the ghosts, but never saw anything. Last night, though…something was different.”
“Different how?” asked Luther.
Zoe rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure how I can explain it. It just…felt different. You know?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “What happened in the cemetery?”
“It was chillier than usual, almost lik
e someone turned up the AC in there.” Zoe managed a little chuckle. “I know how ridiculous that sounds.”
Luther gestured for her to continue.
“Well, we saw the lights first. Floating in the dark, like they were dancing. And I could’ve sworn I saw…I dunno, a girl.”
“Do you remember what she looked like?”
Zoe stared down at the table, clearly trying to recall any significant details about the girl. But in the end, she just gave a shake of her head. “No, I’m sorry. It was all very vague. Like I saw her out of the corner of my eye.”
“What happened after that?”
“That’s when we heard the car.”
“The car?”
Zoe nodded. “It was one of those old cars. You know, like in The Godfather or something. And I saw a man in the passenger seat, dressed like a gangster.”
“The car, it was in the cemetery with you?”
“Yeah, just driving right over the headstones. Or…through.” Zoe shuddered. “I don’t know what happened there. It was like the car was there, but then it wasn’t. It even faded away a few times, but I thought it was just my eyes playing tricks on me. The engine, though. It never stopped.”
“Keep going, Zoe.”
Zoe sucked up some of her drink through the straw and gnawed on it a little before continuing. “We ran. I mean, of course we ran. The guys, they were the first ones out.” She scoffed. “Big and brave, huh? They’d always give us shit when we got scared going up there. But the first sign of trouble, they’re the ones running the fastest.”
Luther gave a snicker.
“Me and Jenny were the last ones in there. She even got to the gate before me, but then she waited. She saw how scared I was and she helped me climb first. As soon as I got over, I just…I ran. I know I should’ve waited for her, but I was so scared.”
“I’m sure you were. Definitely not a situation you’d ever expect to be in. Tell me what happened next.”
“I just…I ran. I made it to the car and got into the backseat. But then I heard the car again. Someone screamed Jenny’s name, I think it was Dana. I turned around and I saw Jenny just…stop. Like a deer, literally stuck in headlights. She just stood there and screamed, staring at the car as it passed right through her.”
Devil's Taunt and Other Stories Page 17