If Mashed Potatoes Could Dance

by Paige Shelton

  I smiled and waved. She did, too, after a beat’s hesitation.

  “Hi, Cece,” I said when I reached her. I stood just so I shaded her sun. “How’re you holding up?”

  “I’m okay, I suppose. I can’t believe I’m stuck in this ridiculous little town while my husband is nowhere to be found.”

  There were some people I would never understand. It wasn’t too long ago that I realized those same people probably didn’t understand me either. Our first meeting had told me that Cece was most likely one of those people. The fact that she was sitting out by the pool and trying to relax as her husband was missing sealed the deal. If my husband, or anyone I cared for, for that matter, were missing, I’d be a wreck. I’d throw myself into looking for that person or into some physical activity that kept my body moving so much that my mind wouldn’t have time to think about how awful I felt.

  I certainly wouldn’t be sitting out by a pool in a skimpy swimsuit; that option wouldn’t even cross my mind.

  “I’m sorry about your husband. I know the police are doing everything they can to find him.”

  “Right. They’re quite the crew of crack detectives. I’m sure they’ll solve it in no time at all.” She sipped her drink.

  I forced myself not to shake my head as I took a seat in the lounge chair next to her.

  “Have the police talked to you?” I asked.

  “Yes. I’ve been questioned and questioned and questioned again. I’ve been as honest as I could be. I told them that I’m just Ash’s arm candy, that our marriage is purely a business deal, that I’m nicely compensated for being his wife. I didn’t lie. I told the whole ugly truth, and yet they think I’m hiding something from them. If I’m willing to tell them all…that, why would they think I was keeping something to myself?”

  I swallowed. “That’s pretty honest.”

  She looked at me. I couldn’t see her eyebrows, but I thought they were probably raised. “Come on, you knew that. Anyone with even the minutest observation skills would know that.”

  “Well. I. Uh.”

  “We don’t hide it from anyone. It’s not a secret. Ash and I think it’s best that way.”

  I thought a minute. “Maybe the police think you got rid of your husband so you could have full access to his money.” I figured if she was being honest, why shouldn’t I?

  “As I’ve explained to the police, I don’t profit from Ash’s death or his disappearance. Our agreement is only good while he’s alive. I’ve signed all the papers. Once he’s gone, so’s my gravy train.” She took another sip, no, a big gulp, of the drink. “I hope they find him soon. Alive.”

  I suddenly thought that a nice drink with an umbrella might not be such a bad idea, but I resisted.

  “What about the dynamics of the tour group?” I asked. I had no reason to think Cece would answer any of my questions, but she’d just told me things that very few people would ever share. Why not tell me whatever else I wanted to know?

  Though, as when I’d sat down with Stuart, Georgina, and Leroy, I wasn’t sure what my questions were. I remembered Jim once asking me for a snapshot summary of my day. Maybe I thought that having a snapshot of the tour group would help me understand what might have happened.

  “What do you mean?” she asked.

  “Do you all get along?”

  “Heavens no. Particularly me. I don’t really like any of them, but I’ve gone with them every year for five years because it’s what Ash likes to do.”

  More and more I wished for my own sunglasses, and that drink sure did look refreshing. “The first day when you arrived, I heard that Robert Hart lost his wallet. Did he find it?”

  “I didn’t know he lost it, but he loses things all the time. So does Ash, particularly his wallet. He’s a flake. These men with all this money. You’d think they’d take better care of it.”

  “I went on the bus that day. I was looking for the driver, Leroy, but he wasn’t there. I saw something strange. It looked like someone’s purse had been emptied out on one of the seats. It seemed weird,” I said.

  “What do you mean? What did you see?”

  “Some money, a comb, a notebook, a glittery lipstick container, stuff like that.”

  The way she cocked her head as she looked at me made me think she was about to say something important, but then she seemed to reconsider. She turned her attention toward the pool and sipped at the drink again. “That’s weird,” she finally said.

  “Uh–huh. Know anything about that?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  “I see.” I had no idea how to strong-arm, so I chose another route. “So, how was your dinner last night?”

  “A Snickers bar and a Diet Pepsi? It was delish, thanks for asking.”

  “Didn’t you go to Bunny’s yesterday?” Hadn’t Bunny told me she’d seen her?

  “Yes, for lunch, but Leroy took the car he’d rented and left by himself at dinnertime. Bunny’s is too far to walk.”

  She was sort of right. I knew a shortcut, but it included walking through a grassy field. Cece didn’t strike me as the walking–in–a–field type, not without a guide and a machete, at least.

  “Leroy didn’t bring you dinner?”

  Cece laughed. “Leroy wouldn’t bring me dinner even if I was starving in the middle of a godforsaken…well, small tourist town in southern Missouri.”

  I thought back. He had purchased only three dinners if I remembered correctly. Including Georgina and himself, he should have picked up six dinners. Georgina was probably with Stuart. And some of the group might have had other plans.

  “Was everyone except Georgina here last night?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. I was watching television in my room. They don’t invite me to theirs; I don’t invite them to mine.”

  I wondered who Leroy had bought food for and who he hadn’t. That might tell me more about the dynamics I was trying to understand. I got why he didn’t like Cece, even if there was something about her I found refreshing, albeit extremely obnoxious.

  We made small talk for approximately two more minutes before Cece made it clear that she’d like for me to leave her alone. She did this by telling me she’d like to be alone with her thoughts, the pool, and hopefully a continual supply of drinks with umbrellas.

  I pointed out the shortcut to Bunny’s. I was sure she rolled her eyes behind her dark glasses when I told her about the field, but if she was hungry enough, she’d find a way to put up with the hike.

  At the front desk, I asked the receptionist to call the other foodies’ rooms, but no one answered. I’d probably run into them in town. I hoped no one else had been kidnapped, but surely they were smart enough to stay close to one another and do whatever they had to to protect themselves.

  I was just about to go back to the pool and double-check for them when my phone buzzed. I’d received a text from Gram.

  It said: Sally’s looking for you. Where should I send her?

  Chapter 16

  And speaking of grassy fields.

  “Right here, you can see where the wall went up here,” Sally said as she pointed. “I bet this is the original wood.”

  The uneven ground and long prickly stems of grass weren’t cumbersome to a ghost, but they were to me, and I was beginning to wonder why I’d agreed to Sally’s request. But I knew why: I was curious enough about her and her life to think that visiting the site of her now long-gone home and the remains of her backyard barn would be interesting.

  I’d driven past the Monroe House to get to the area. I saw two construction men sitting on chairs on the front lawn and a white sedan parked out front. They didn’t even look in my direction as I drove by, but seeing them reminded me I’d broken the promise to Jake. I’d told him I would ask Cliff about the place being condemned. I had totally forgotten, which was unlike me, not only because breaking a promise to Jake wasn’t something I did but also because I usually don’t forget to do something I’ve promised I’ll do, no matter what. Had I subconscious
ly not asked Cliff because of my feelings for the old place? I hoped not. I thought about calling him but decided I would wait until I saw him next. He had more to worry about than the Monroe House. I’d apologize to Jake.

  As I pulled onto a partially developed road, I could see the back side of the Monroe House; it looked worse than the front: it seemed to be leaning even more dramatically, and while the front’s paint was chipped and faded, the back had no paint left at all. There were also no odd-looking men in derby hats roaming around or signaling me to join them.

  Once I reached the end of the paved road, I steered the Nova onto what had become an overgrown field full of bumps, weeds and other foliage, and who-knows-what that might puncture a tire. I thought it was better to drive over most of it than walk it, though. Now, as I crouched amid the natural dangers, I decided I’d made the right choice; shoes, ankles, and feet could have been easily compromised if I’d walked.

  There were no physical ruins to indicate where Sally’s house had been, no leftover foundation or planks of wood. But behind the area where Sally claimed the house had stood, and amid a thick patch of skinny trunked trees, there were some leftover boards and other junk that might have actually been part of the barn; I believed the boards were genuine, but the other stuff—bits of chicken wire and several long stakes—was questionable. Jake had told me about the remnants of the Swarthmore barn, though, so I cautiously believed we were in the right spot.

  Earlier, Sally had left the school and gone back to the Monroe House to see if she could get inside, but when she found that something was still barring her way, she decided to explore the area of her residence. She said she’d been to the area on previous visits but didn’t remember if she’d ever found anything interesting. After looking around a bit this time, she discovered two long planks along the ground where the barn had stood. They were sort of buried in dirt and grown over with weeds and grass. Curious about what lay underneath them, she summoned me for my muscle: she wanted me to lift up the planks.

  “I have such a distinct memory, Betts. I really do think there was a hole or some kind of opening in the ground where we, as a family, could hide things. Maybe my diary is in there, underneath that wood.”

  I swatted away a fly big enough to need a saddle, and swiped at something itchy on my arm. I looked at the ghost and began to think that she was remembering a few too many places where she might have buried or hidden the diary.

  But I’d made the trip.

  “Sally, maybe you just want to find the diary so badly that you’re beginning to have some false memories. You know, even if your ghostly existence didn’t mess with your mind…” I paused and pondered mind, but only for an instant. “…time has a way of erasing and changing memories, too. It’s been over a hundred years.”

  “No, I don’t…” She paused, too. “…think so. No, I really do remember more about ‘hiding’ than I ever have.”

  “What kind of ‘hiding?’ Hiding places? What were you hiding?”

  “Maybe my diary, for one thing. I don’t know what else. I know this barn is where I kept my pigeons. I know I was out here a lot. The house was crowded and small.”

  I sighed. “You want me to pull up these planks so we can look?” I asked as I surveyed the wood. I wasn’t sure I could handle the job with just my bare hands, but I had some stuff in the trunk of the Nova that might help. The only person I could possibly ask for assistance was Jake, but I knew he was busy. Of course, Gram knew about Sally, but if I called her, she’d probably just laugh and tell me and Sally to get over searching for the diary. Teddy would help but not without wanting to know why first. He’d love the entire idea of ripping wood out of the ground just to see what was underneath, but I had no idea how to explain, without including the ghost, to him why I would need to do such a thing.

  “Yes. Please, Betts,” Sally said.

  I sighed again but then stood from the crouch and trudged my way the twenty feet or so back to the Nova. I opened the trunk and rummaged around. I found a three-foot-long tube of PVC pipe and one random glove that I might have worn at my parents once when I’d helped them with some yard work.

  As I high-stepped it back to the planks, I had a moment’s desire to be back in front of the pool with Cece, sipping a cocktail.

  “Oh, thank you, Betts, thank you!”

  “We’ll see.”

  I dug away at the side of a plank with the end of the PVC. The ground was hard and didn’t give easily, but I stuck with it long enough that soon I could maneuver the pipe underneath the board and use it as a lever. I expected nothing to happen when I shoved one end of the pipe under the wood and pushed down on the other still exposed end. I thought that result might end up being the end of the hunt. I could feign tired and tell Sally I had too much to do to be out in the middle of nowhere, digging for a diary.

  But instead of nothing happening, the plank snapped easily when I pushed on the pipe. I wasn’t ready for the total give, and a twinge of pain shot up my elbow when the board broke, sending a ten-inch piece flying through the air and right through the ghost.

  “Old wood,” was all that Sally said as the piece landed behind her.

  She joined me on her hands and knees. Where the piece of wood had been was now the opening to a dark hole. I didn’t know how deep it was or what crawly creatures it contained, but it was most definitely a hole.

  “Oh! Look!” Sally said. “There was a hiding place.”

  “One step at a time,” I said. “It’s a hole, not a hiding place yet. Let’s look closer.” I pulled out my cell phone, accepted the idea of my clothes getting filthy, and flattened myself against the dirt.

  It was, in fact, a hole. From my vantage point and with the light from the cell phone, I judged it to be about one foot by one foot cubed.

  “There’s something in there, Betts,” Sally said anxiously.

  I looked at her and then looked back down into the hole. There was something there. It seemed to be a piece of something, perhaps a piece of folded fabric. It was grimy and frayed around the edges, but I could tell that it was blue.

  I slipped the glove on my left hand and reached in. Even though the space didn’t look to be inhabited by creatures or set with a trap, my fingers nonetheless tingled in anticipation that when I pulled my hand out it would be covered in bugs or bleeding from some vise-inflicted injury.

  But my hand came out just fine, and so did the fabric, mostly. It gave a little in the middle and separated slightly, but not to the point of complete disintegration.

  “Didn’t Edgar’s notes say your sister saw you burning a blue dress?” I asked.

  “Yes.” She looked at herself. “That could be from this one.”

  I looked at the fabric and at her dress.

  “Do you suppose this is a piece of it?”

  “I don’t have any rips or tears, but I guess it could be a piece of the real thing.”

  “And what do you think that is?” I asked as I pointed to a darker spot. The small, uneven centimeter-wide spot was dusty and might have at one time been red, or maybe black or brown.

  “You don’t suppose it’s blood?” Sally asked, her eyes big and thoughtful as though she really wanted to know the answer.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how to get it tested either, but maybe Jake or Cliff can help.”

  Sally’s eyes had moved away from the piece of fabric, and she put a finger to her mouth as if she was going to bite a nail. Her forehead was creased. After a moment, she said, “I don’t know what this means, but I knew there was something here. That must be important.”

  She had a point. I held the cell phone in the hole again, but nothing else was hidden inside. “It might not mean anything, Sally. It might be something put here by someone else. It might have nothing to do with you.”

  “I think it has everything to do with me, Betts. Everything.”

  I did, too, but I didn’t want to say as much. I took off the glove and then placed the piece of fabric on top of it
. I had nothing to protect it, and I worried it would now be more likely to disintegrate fully, like mummies whose wraps are loosened centuries after their burial, before I had a chance to care for it properly.

  I carried it gently back to the Nova and set it inside the glove box.

  “I’ll see what I can find out,” I said to Sally as my phone buzzed.

  “Thank you, Betts. I’m going back to the Monroe House. Things, images, impressions, are really coming back to me. Maybe trying to get back inside will help me with more memories, if nothing else.”

  I didn’t get the chance to say good-bye before she disappeared. I was also distracted by the text. This one was from Jake. It said: Another note. Hurry. Get here. Come in the back.

  I hoped I hadn’t and wouldn’t puncture a tire as I steered the Nova over the rough terrain again. I was in such a hurry that I didn’t even look at the front of the Monroe House as I drove by. If I had, I would have seen someone I knew, someone who recognized my car. That person was standing on the porch but ducked inside the front door when they saw who was driving by. And just as they hid themselves, Sally popped onto the front porch, probably having first tried to make her way in through the back.

  Had I or she seen the person on the porch, I might have solved a couple mysteries right then and there, but it wasn’t to be.

  Chapter 17

  Before the past few days I hadn’t minded using the back entrance of Jake’s building. In fact, it was sometimes easier, particularly when one of the secret parking spaces was available. But apparently, the secret was really out. The spots were taken, and I had to park a couple blocks away again and make my way down the back alley. Oddly, the alley was empty. I usually passed at least one or two people taking a semi-quiet break from the crowds, but today there was no one around. I hurried along and tried to ignore the warm pricklies on the back of my neck, warning me that someone might be watching or following me. I was happy to see the archive room’s back door open wide and Jake anxiously waiting for me.