A Match Made in Hell

by Terri Garey

  "The house was built in the late 1800s—a classic Queen Anne—by a ship's captain named Horace Montgomery." One of the things I'd learned about Spider was that he took Savannah history, and its architecture, very seriously. "He built it for his wife and children, but they didn't get to enjoy it long. He came home from a voyage to find his entire family had been wiped out by yellow fever."

  "He was a smuggler, actually," Skully chimed in. "Rumor has it old Horace was a rum-runner. Rumor also has it that he went nuts. He didn't believe his family was dead, and dug up the bodies, one by one. Then he reburied them, but no one knows where."

  One of the things I'd learned about Skully was that he didn't seem to take anything seriously. He wiggled his eyebrows at me and said, "Maybe there's bones buried in the basement."

  "The house has had a series of owners, but nobody ever stayed in it very long until the old lady bought it," Spider went on. "'Course, she wasn't an old lady then." He shrugged. "When she closed down the rooms to boarders, the bottom floor was converted into a flower shop." He shook his head. "There've been a lot of strange stories about that house."

  "And you know all this because… ?" I didn't know diddly about the history of any old houses back in Atlanta, much less whether they were "Queen Annes" or had any strange stories connected to them.

  Spider gave me an impatient look. "It's our job to know. We're tour guides, remember? Savannah's full of ghost stories and haunted houses, and we know them all. The Pink House, the Hampton Lillibridge house, the Pirate House—"

  "It started out as a hobby," Skully broke in cheerfully. "Then it became an obsession." He glanced at Spider with a grin. "For some of us, anyway. I'm just along for the babes."

  I rolled my eyes, glad to see Joe grinning good-naturedly at Skully's optimism.

  "Don't get your hopes up here, Skull Boy," he said. "Nicki's got a boyfriend, and a pair of sharp-toed boots. She knows how to use 'em, too."

  Skully's grin was still in place. He was no threat to a guy like Joe, and he knew it. "I like a woman who knows how to stick up for herself."

  Confident the dweeb could take a joke, I said, "Be careful I don't stick 'em—"

  "Nicki!"

  I kept forgetting that Kelly was such a good girl. Besides, I was just teasing. It was hard to be offended by a chubby guy who thought you were hot, particularly when said chubby guy already knew he didn't stand a chance.

  Spider gave a noncommittal grunt, then said to Kelly, "What about you? Boyfriend waiting at home?"

  Her cheeks turned pink. She gave Spider a shy smile and shook her head, toying with her ice tea glass.

  "Anyway," Skully drew us back to the topic at hand, "this town is full of weird places. The American Institute of Parapsychology has named Savannah 'America's Most Haunted City.'"

  "The American Institute of what?"

  "The American Institute of Parapsychology," Kelly said, earning herself another admiring glance from Spider. "I read about it on the Internet. It's an organization dedicated to scientific psychic research."

  "Scientific psychic research? Isn't that like an oxymoron or something?"

  "Ha, ha." Kelly had that look on her face that warned me I was close to getting another lecture about taking life, and death, more seriously. "It's a very well-respected organization."

  "Respected by who, Gypsy fortune-tellers?"

  Skully laughed, deepening the crease in his double chin. "You're spunky. I like you."

  "Great," I murmured, watching Spider and Kelly exchange another glance. I wasn't used to being invisible to cute guys, even if I wasn't interested myself. Still, Kelly did look pretty good today. She rarely wore makeup at home, and her hair was out of its usual careless knot. "Just great."

  Later on, while Joe paid the check at the register, I asked Kelly, "So why didn't you tell them about Peaches? After all, she apparently lived in a haunted house. You might've scored a few more points with Spider over that one."

  She gave me a look. "Jealous?"

  "Please. He was way too skinny for me, and I've got Joe, remember?"

  "As if you ever let me forget."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Never mind." She went back to staring out the window, watching Spider and Skully amble away down the sidewalk.

  The surest way to make me "mind" something is to tell me to "never mind."

  "Seriously. What's that supposed to mean?"

  Kelly sighed, glancing at me. "You keep Joe on a pretty tight leash."

  "Excuse me?" I'd always considered myself the "free Willy" type—I'd never believed in leashes.

  "Either you go over to his place or you both disappear into your bedroom. It's like you're afraid for Joe and I to be in the same room together or something."

  She might have been right, but no way was I gonna admit it. Particularly when it was something I didn't like about myself. My chin went up. "Did it ever occur to you that I might just be trying to be sensitive to your feelings?"

  Kelly turned her head and gave me a long, level look.

  Then, without saying a word, she went back to staring out the window.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 10

  "May I help you?"

  The man behind the counter at the Blue Dahlia was shaped like an egg, bottom heavy and bald. The only hair on his head were his eyebrows. He smiled, peering at us through thick, horn-rimmed glasses.

  "We're looking for Leonard Ledbetter," Kelly said.

  The old man leaned forward, resting both hands on the counter. "I'm Leonard Ledbetter. Do you have something on order?"

  I glanced around at the showy bouquets of roses, lilies, and hydrangeas, admiring the display. "I wish I did. These arrangements are gorgeous." The Blue Dahlia was an elegant little store, and smelled as great as it looked. Striped damask wallpaper in blue and gold, flowers and greenery everywhere, a big bowl of magnolia potpourri right by the front door. The shabby chic armoires were painted white and then "blued"—a nice touch.

  I glanced at Joe and teased, "I like flowers, by the way."

  "Point taken," he murmured, eyes twinkling with a smile.

  The house had a warm, cozy feel—it sure didn't look haunted, inside or out. It was a white clapboard Victorian with gingerbread trim, cheerful with flowers, only a discreet blue and white sign on one end of the porch to indicate it was anything other than a private home.

  "I'm Kelly Charon, Mr. Ledbetter," Kelly said. "This is my sister, Nicki Styx, and our friend, Joe Bascombe."

  "Oh my." Leonard looked stricken. "Oh my goodness me."

  "We spoke on the phone, remember?" Kelly did the talking while I admired an exotic orchid, bright orange with a pale yellow center. "We've come to see Bijou."

  No reply. I looked up to see that Leonard had gone white as a sheet, and for a moment I wondered if he was about to stroke out on us.

  Talk about making an entrance. I'm sorry, Grandma Bijou, but we've killed your store manager.

  "Are… are you all right, Mr. Ledbetter?" Apparently, Joe was concerned about the old man, too.

  "Leonard," he gasped. "Call me Leonard." The man looked like a "Leonard"—his pants were pulled up so high his belt buckle nearly met his bow tie. All he needed was an inch of white socks and a pocket protector.

  "It's you," he said. He was staring at Kelly, though his eyes kept flitting to me. "Her daughters. Here, at the Blue Dahlia." Leonard gave a little cry—of grief, of surprise, I wasn't sure—and stumbled back a few steps. His generous bottom hit the cushions of an overstuffed chair with a whoof.

  "Hey, take it easy," Joe said, moving around the counter. Kelly and I started forward, but Leonard gave us a weak smile, waving away our concern.

  "I'm fine, really. Just a little low blood sugar, I expect." He stared, eyes going back and forth between Kelly and me. "You two girls may be twins, but you look so different. Took me by surprise."

  The old man won points for that comment. I never wanted to be part of a matched set.

&nb
sp; "Oh, you're both so pretty. So much like your mama." Leonard's smile faded. Even his bow tie seemed to wilt a little. "Sweet, sweet Peaches. God rest her soul."

  If she were resting, we wouldn't be here.

  "Fine woman. Such a tragedy." Leonard's voice wavered, then steadied. He pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed behind his glasses. The handkerchief was black silk, and very wrinkled.

  "Mr. Ledbetter—"

  "Leonard," he wheezed, "call me Leonard. Bijou said you would come, but I didn't believe her." He was babbling now, twisting the black hankie into a wad. "'Just wait,' she said, 'they'll come. They won't be able to help themselves.'"

  I shot Kelly a look, which she studiously avoided. She moved to squat by the old guy's chair. "Are you okay?" She put a hand on his shoulder. "Can we get you anything?"

  Her touch seemed to have a calming effect. Leonard took a few deep breaths and mopped at his face, even going so far as to remove his glasses. He blinked like a turtle before slipping them back on.

  "You must forgive an old man," he said with a wavery smile. "But you're about to be very angry with me."

  Leonard Ledbetter wasn't making much sense. "Um… is Bijou around? Maybe we should talk to her."

  To my absolute horror, the old man burst into tears. He shook his head, pressing the black hankie to his lips. "She's gone," he murmured brokenly. "Passed away in her sleep, three days after Peaches's funeral. Her heart was broken, you know."

  Kelly's eyes met mine over the old man's head. Why was nothing ever simple anymore?

  "But I just talked to you on the phone—you said Bijou was sick, not—" Kelly's protest stopped before she said the word "dead."

  "Why would you lie to me like that?"

  "Yes, Mr. Ledbetter." Joe's voice was grim. "Why would you lie about something like that?"

  Leonard wept even harder. "I had to," he cried, "Bijou made me promise. When she came home from the funeral, she told me she felt the hand of death on her shoulder." He mopped at his face with the handkerchief. "She was a sensitive, you know. She knew these things. She said if the worst happened…" He paused, throat working. "… then I was not to notify you girls of her death unless…"

  Leonard paused to blow his nose, noisily.

  "Unless what?" I couldn't stand it. The poor old guy was obviously losing it.

  The words came out in a rush. "Unless you came to Savannah on your own. To the Blue Dahlia. She didn't want you coming out of obligation, she said."

  Bullshit. This was bullshit.

  The dark look on Joe's face proved he was no happier by this turn of events than I was.

  "Her heart was weak, you know." Leonard flapped a hand, not realizing how his words sent a chill through me. "A fluttering condition, life-long. I think it finally just gave out." He heaved a deep sigh, getting himself under control. "She left you something."

  I was tempted to tell Leonard Ledbetter what to do with whatever it was, but one look at Kelly's face stopped me. She was deeply disappointed, tears in her eyes.

  "My darling Bijou. Before she… before she passed, she left you both a letter."

  "A letter?"

  "One for each of you." Leonard pushed himself to his feet. "I put them in the bottom of the cash register drawer so I'd know right where they were when the time came." He punched some keys on the old-fashioned register, and the bottom drawer popped open. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and began to rummage beneath the change tray. "I was quite certain I put them in here," he said. His expression went from surprised to disappointed to vaguely embarrassed. After a moment or two more of rummaging, he gave a shrug, managing a weak smile. "It's possible I left them in the study. I do that sometimes."

  Kelly and I looked at each other. I wasn't certain what she was feeling, and I didn't know what to say. First Peaches, now Bijou—it seemed like every time we met one of our long-lost relatives, they died before we could get to know them.

  And just like that, a frisson of something… bad moved down my spine. Call it a foreboding, call it chicken guts, call it intuition—something was wrong. I just didn't know what.

  "You must come inside the main house and make yourself comfortable," Leonard said. "Bijou would've wanted to show it to you—she was so proud of it. The place was a wreck when she bought it, but it's been completely restored. All the original trim and fixtures. My darling Bijou was quite the decorator—it was once a bed and breakfast, but in the end she couldn't bear to have strangers traipsing through it."

  "We'd love to see it," Kelly said quietly.

  I looked at Joe and sighed, wishing Kelly wouldn't take it upon herself to speak for everyone like that.

  He quirked an eyebrow, clearly asking me what I wanted.

  I gave a reluctant nod. Whether or not the Blue Dahlia was haunted remained to be seen, but Kelly didn't seem too worried, and she was obviously determined to look around. Might as well get it over with.

  "You must forgive an old man," Leonard said, wheezing as he led us through the narrow corridor that led to the main house. "I don't move as fast as I used to."

  Then he unlocked a door, and the house opened like a flower.

  Beyond the corridor were gleaming hardwood floors, buttermilk-colored walls, and what seemed like acres of crisp, white trim. The furniture was an eclectic mix of junk-store gems and fine furnishings; a stained-glass Art Nouveau lamp sat on a battered antique dresser by the front door. The area rugs were worn, but still pretty, their colors muted by the sunlight flooding the house.

  "I must let Odessa know you're here," Leonard went on, leading us all the way into the main part of the house. "She doesn't like to be surprised."

  "Odessa?" Kelly asked.

  Leonard blinked owlishly behind his glasses. "Oh yes. She's been here for years—longer than I have." He was nodding his head, deep in his own thoughts. "Housekeeper, don't you know… though she and my darling Bijou were very close. Bosom companions, in fact."

  Bosom companions? Sometimes old-timers had a way of speaking that could just leave you scratching your head.

  "It's a beautiful house." Kelly stood in the center of the living room, admiring everything—from the gilt-trimmed mirrors on the walls to the blue-striped chintz on the sofa—just as I was. "Does anyone else live here?"

  Leonard smiled sadly, letting us look our fill. "Not anymore. Odessa stays in the cottage out back, and I'm only here during the day." He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to dab his eyes. "After nearly thirty years of opening the florist shop every morning, I just can't seem to kick the habit."

  Poor guy. He really did seem torn up about Bijou. Good for you, Grandma, to have a boyfriend who adored you till the end.

  "I know Odessa will want you to stay for dinner—we usually eat together before I go home." He inhaled a deep breath and let it out blissfully. "She's already started baking."

  "We'd love to join you for dinner," Kelly said smoothly, ignoring my dirty look. "Maybe we could explore the house a little bit this afternoon? Take some pictures, go through old photo albums?"

  Leonard perked up, mopping his face with his handkerchief and then tucking it away. "Absolutely. Would you like to see the rest of the main floor?" He started toward a door at the far side of the room, leading us that way. Kelly went eagerly, while Joe and I trailed behind, fingers laced together.

  "You okay, babe?" Joe asked, beneath his breath. "Because if you want to go, we can go. I don't like this 'haunted house' stuff. Those guys at the diner were probably full of it, but if there are any spirits here…" He shook his head, not finishing the sentence. "Anything you can't handle, you let me know, and we're out of here."

  I squeezed his hand, grateful it was there to squeeze.

  Problem was, I now found myself curious—it really was a beautiful old house. I wouldn't have minded taking the grand tour if it weren't for the bad feeling I'd gotten in the florist shop. This place was too good to be true, and things that are too good to be true frequently aren't. But feeling wasn'
t the same as knowing, and I didn't want Joe to worry.

  "I'm okay," I murmured. "No spooks so far."

  "This is the dining room," Leonard said, proudly bringing us into a huge, silk-paneled room that overlooked the back garden. The table and chairs looked like original Chippendale, heavy and claw-footed, gleaming dark with age and polish. The fabric on the walls was, in contrast, a delicate Oriental pattern of water lilies and koi, picked out in pale green, coral, and cream. "Bijou did so love her dinner parties."

  Pausing only long enough to let us admire the view of the garden, Leonard pushed open the swinging door that led to a sort of pantry, long and narrow, filled with closed cabinets and counters on either side. Then we were in the kitchen, a big room filled with the scent of bread and apples, wide slate floors and veined marble countertops. Something was steaming in a pot on the stove, and a heavyset black woman was stirring it. She didn't turn as we came in, giving whatever was cooking her full attention.

  "Damn you, Leonard," she said. "Didn't I tell you to leave well enough alone? Those two girls are trouble, I can feel it."

  Leonard seemed to wilt before our eyes, and an awkward silence ensued.

  "I seen 'em getting out of their car. No question they belong to Miz Peaches." The woman turned around, wooden spoon in hand. She registered no surprise to see Kelly, Joe, and me standing there.

  "What you lookin' at?" she asked. "Ain't you never seen nobody cook before?"

  "Odessa," Leonard said, enunciating each syllable carefully, "we have guests."

  "Huh," Odessa said, and turned back to the pot on the stove.

  Kelly and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance while Leonard, obviously embarrassed, tried to smooth the moment over.

  "You must forgive Odessa," he said calmly. "She can be a bit outspoken."

  "Huh," Odessa repeated.

  "I assume you'd like to start here, in Peaches's room," Leonard said. His lower lip trembled as he reached for the doorknob. The room was on the second floor, at the end of a long hallway. He took a deep breath, obviously bracing himself, and opened the door.