Secrets and Specters

by Raven Snow

  “Ah.” Lady tried to sound more excited than she was— which was not at all. She hadn’t had any of the wine last night. She didn’t like wine. Had he not noticed? “Thank you! I’ll go put this in the kitchen. Why don’t you wait in the sitting room? It’s over here.” Lady led the way motioning Chet in the right direction before they parted ways.

  “Why don’t you bring back a couple of glasses?” Chet suggested, flashing her a smile before he went to find himself somewhere to sit.

  “I’ll do that.” Lady let out a groan only when she was behind the kitchen door.

  Ms. Poole looked up from where she stood at the island. “Is he here?”

  “Oh, yeah. He’s here.” Lady waggled her box. “And he brought a gift. Hey, do we have any wine glasses?”

  “You’re going to drink?”

  “Not if I can help it. Apparently, he’s going to, though.”

  “I suppose it really doesn’t matter.” Ms. Poole nodded towards some cabinets up high and to the left of the stove. Lady had to drag a stool over in order to get to them.

  “You want to go ahead and join us?” The glasses Lady got down had a film of dust over their bases. They looked like they weren’t even from this century. She went over to the sink to give them a quick rinse off.

  “I’m still working on this snack plate.” Ms. Poole looked up from where she was cubing cheese on her cutting board. “Don’t you worry. I’ll join you shortly. Just keep him entertained until our other guests arrive. I doubt it will be long now.”

  Lady let out another groan but didn’t argue. She unboxed and uncorked the wine and carried it to the sitting room along with the glasses.

  Chet had seated himself in an armchair near the unlit fireplace. He stood when Lady entered, taking the bottle and one of the glasses from her. “You know I was surprised when you called me.” He said, pouring himself a glass first and then motioning for Lady to hold her own glass out. She did. “Well, not too surprised. I thought we made a connection.”

  “That’s enough,” Lady said when the glass was half-full. He filled it to the brim anyway. She made a point to keep smiling. “Yeah, I guess we did kind of… make a connection. I really felt what you said, you know? The whole thing about not making many friends here in Dark Lake? I’m still new here, and we’re both in need of friends, so…” Lady trailed off awkwardly. She took a seat in the rocker across from Chet’s armchair.

  “I completely agree.” Chet sat back down as well. He took a long sip of his wine. “How did you get my number?”

  “I got it from Shannon.” Lady took the tiniest of sips from her own glass and tried not to make a face. It was bitter and sweet at the same time. How was that even possible?

  Chet nodded like that made sense. “I should have given it to you myself. Sorry about that.”

  “It’s fine,” Lady assured him.

  “Do you have any plans for dinner?” asked Chet. “I know you asked me out here, and obviously I don’t have any kind of problem with that. Some guys aren’t comfortable with the lady planning the evening.”

  “Very progressive of you.”

  “After we’re done catching up here, though… I could see about making some dinner plans for us. Anywhere you want. It’s on me.”

  “That’s really nice of you to offer, but there’s something in the kitchen. It should be ready soon.”

  Chet raised his eyebrows at that. “Oh! I didn’t know you were cooking for me. Well, never mind. I never say no to a home-cooked meal. I bet you’re a great chef.”

  “Well, actually—” Lady didn’t get any further than that. Doyle came into the den. He was wearing one of his suits, looking particularly tall, dark and handsome this particular afternoon. He crossed the room in a few long strides and unbuttoned his jacket before sitting down in the chair nearest Chet.

  “Ah,” Chet began, shifting sideways in his chair. He cracked an awkward, lopsided smile. “Hello there.” He hadn’t expected company. “Nice to meet you.”

  Doyle spared Chet little more than a sideways glance. “Likewise.”

  Chet narrowed his eyes, giving Doyle a more thorough once-over. “Do I know you?”

  “I believe we’ve met in passing.” Doyle offered no more than that.

  “Are they here?” asked Lady, a question Doyle answered with a curt nod.

  “Is who what?” Chet scanned the room as if worried someone else might have materialized without him noticing. “I… I thought it was just going to be the two of us?”

  “Hmm?” Lady was good at playing dumb. “What? Oh, no. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression. I invited a few more people over. Like I said, I’m trying to make friends, so… I hope that’s okay.”

  “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Chet downed the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle. Obviously, he had thought this whole thing was something else entirely. He seemed doubly confused when Frankie came walking through the double doors to the den.

  “Chet?” Frankie froze inside the doorway, a deep frown furrowing his brow.

  “Frankie?” Chet was so distracted that he let his glass overfill. He jumped when it spilled onto his lap, sloshing even more liquid onto the rug in the process. He swore and stood. “I’m sorry. Let me—”

  Lady was faster than he was. “Don’t worry about it,” she said quickly. “I’ll take care of it.” She hurried from the room and back into the kitchen. “Everyone’s here,” she reported to Ms. Poole as she grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter.

  Ms. Poole nodded, unsurprised. She kept her eyes on her snack platter. “I’ll be out shortly.”

  Paper towels in hand, Lady hurried back to the sitting room. Everything was as tense as she had left it. Frankie and Chet were sitting across from one another. “Doyle is a… business associate,” Frankie explained. “He called me here for a meeting.”

  Chet noticed that Lady had returned and turned his head in her direction. “I thought this was a friendly get-together.”

  “It’s… Well, it’s a get-together.” She ripped some paper towels off the roll and threw them unceremoniously atop the spreading wine stain.

  Frankie’s attention had turned to Doyle. “You said you needed to see me. What does this have to do with my brother? You… You don’t have business with my brother, do you?”

  Doyle gave Frankie a small and mirthless smile. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, friend.”

  Frankie opened his mouth to say something else but closed it. He settled back into his chair and folded his hands in his lap. He clearly knew enough about Doyle to be respectful of him.

  The sitting room doors opened again and Ms. Poole entered. Conners came in behind her, carrying the tray of food so she wouldn’t have to. “I made some finger sandwiches,” said Ms. Poole. “There’s also some fruit and cheese. I hear you brought wine, Chet. Maybe it will pair well with it.”

  “Um… Maybe.” Chet looked like he wanted to ask questions but wasn’t sure where to start. He opted to sit and watch. When the tray was put down on the coffee table, he took a cube of cheese on a toothpick.

  Doyle took a couple of sandwiches. He offered one to Frankie. “Try this. She makes wonderful chicken salad.”

  Frankie took the sandwich slowly but obediently. He didn’t look like he was particularly hungry, but he took a bite anyway. “Nice to see you again, Conners. I didn’t expect it to be so soon after our last meeting.”

  “This was all Lady’s idea.” Conners left the room briefly and returned with a couple of chairs from the adjacent dining room, giving everyone a place to sit.

  “So…” Frankie looked at Doyle as if hoping for more answers from him. “This isn’t a business meeting?”

  “It is… In a way.” Doyle took a grape from the tray between all of them and popped it into his mouth. He turned his gaze to Ms. Poole. “Are you ready?”

  “I am.” Ms. Poole shut the doors to the sitting room before going to stand behind Conners’ chair. “Are you ready? You drank t
he drought I gave you, right?”

  “Yeah, I drank it.” Conners shifted uncomfortably where he sat. “I’m as ready as I’m ever gonna be, I guess.”

  Chet leaned in close to Lady. She had pulled her chair up next to his. “What’s going on?” he whispered.

  Lady shushed him, pressing a finger to her lips. “Just give it a minute.”

  It didn’t take nearly as long as Lady thought it would. Ms. Poole put her hands to Conners’ temples. He closed his eyes. It took a matter of seconds. “Well,” said Ms. Poole, sounding a little surprised herself. “That was quick.”

  Conners was asleep, slouched in his chair and snoring gently. “Well, he has been pretty sleep-deprived lately,” Lady reasoned.

  “Um…” Chet began, still visibly confused.

  “So, it’ll just come on command?” asked Lady. She had only formed the bare bones of this plan. Doyle and Ms. Poole had helped with the finer parts of it. They were a lot more competent than she was and hadn’t seemed too concerned with pulling it off.

  “It’ll come,” Doyle assured her. “It came last night, and it was there both nights before that according to both you and Otsuya. It’ll come, especially with Ms. Poole inviting it in like that.”

  Lady noticed that Ms. Poole had her eyes closed. She was muttering something under her breath. “Who’s coming?” asked Chet. He cracked a nervous smile, probably hoping that this was some sort of elaborate joke he simply wasn’t getting.

  No one needed to answer Chet. The room grew suddenly colder and the lights flickered. Frankie fumbled the last bite of his sandwich, dropping it to the floor. There were going to be a lot of stains to get out of the carpet after tonight.

  A shadow formed on the floor. Lady watched as it lengthened, growing wider and then stretching upwards. A figure unfolded from it.

  Chet shrieked and tried to jump to his feet, but Lady caught him by the shoulder. It took all of her strength, but she managed to push him back down into his chair.

  “Sit still,” said Doyle. He reached out as he spoke and placed a hand on Frankie’s arm. Frankie was wide-eyed and trembling but remained motionless.

  “W-what is that?” stammered Chet.

  “It’s Beatrice.” Lady’s heart was pounding in her own chest, but she kept the fear from her voice. She was surrounded by people who could keep her safe… At least, she probably was.

  “Beatrice?” Chet repeated the name, sounding puzzled. “Y-you mean…”

  Lady nodded when he trailed off. “Lawrence’s wife.”

  At the mention of her late husband’s name, Beatrice turned her shadowy head in Lady’s direction. Chet gave another shriek but managed to stay seated. Slowly, Beatrice turned back to Conners’ sleeping form.

  “This is… This is all a trick, right?” Chet looked from person to person, desperation creeping into his voice. “This is… This is pretty impressive, I’ll give you that.”

  “Are you sure you never met Beatrice, Chet?” asked Doyle, meeting Chet’s question with one of his own.

  “What?”

  “You offered to pay for her treatment, didn’t you?”

  Chet had already gone pale. Somehow, he blanched further. “What?” he asked again, softer this time.

  “Her treatment,” Doyle repeated. “You offered to pay for it. Or maybe you just offered Lawrence money. I forget which. It’s been a few years, so you’ll have to excuse my poor memory.”

  “I don’t know… I don’t know what you’re—”

  “I form a great many contracts in my line of work. If I may, I’d like to give you some advice.” Doyle didn’t seem interested in hearing Chet deny the things he was saying. “You should have just paid him to rob your brother. You could have split the take.”

  “What?” The conversation had taken a turn that had dragged Frankie’s attention away from the presence of a shadow entity.

  Doyle ignored Frankie’s words as well. “You got greedy. You wanted to be the hero. That was the plan, wasn’t it? You arrive home with your family and defend them from the man robbing them? Was he supposed to escape into the night or were you going to kill him like Conners’ ultimately did? I was unclear on what your exact plan was. I was keeping an eye on things, because I was afraid your goal was to kill my client here. Fortunately, it never came to that, of course.”

  Lady thought back to what she’d heard at the A/C repair shop, how Lawrence even owning a gun had been a surprise. “You gave him the gun, didn’t you?”

  Chet gripped the arms of his chair. “I- I don’t— What—”

  “You tried to kill me?!” Frankie gaped at his brother.

  “No! That wasn’t in the pla— I mean, I never— Everyone’s putting words in my mouth. I don’t—”

  Frankie’s surprise quickly gave way to anger. “That’s why you wanted everyone to go out to dinner.” He looked to Doyle. “He wanted Shannon and I to join him at the country club.”

  Doyle nodded. “I was watching. You ditched him. You didn’t want to sit down and eat with your mother-in-law.”

  Frankie neither confirmed nor denied that. He still seemed angry, though. It didn’t seem to be difficult for him to believe that his own brother would risk his life for money and popularity.

  “God,” spat Chet, rising from his seat. This time, Lady’s hand on his shoulder couldn’t stop him. “You never wanted me to succeed in anything! You never believe in anything I do! If you’d just done what I wanted that night, everything would have worked out!” Chet balled his hands into fists. “I— I don’t have to sit here and take this.” He took a couple steps towards the door. “I—”

  He didn’t make it far. Beatrice moved across the room in a blur. She was on top of Chet before Lady could fully register what had just happened. She leapt from her chair, not sure of what to do. She had gotten Beatrice’s attention away from Conners, but now Chet was in danger. The creature was on his chest, pinning him down. Lady knew all too well what that was like.

  “Do something!” shouted Lady when her hand passed through Beatrice’s head.

  Doyle remained right where he was. He’d poured himself a glass of wine and was taking a leisurely sip. Frankie had stood but appeared to be rooted to the spot. Not that he would have been any help if he were to come forward.

  Lady turned to Ms. Poole, but she was distracted instead by Conners. He had woken up, it seemed. He was getting to his feet, looking uneasy about it. “Beatrice?” he began, taking a few steps closer. “I know you’re angry. You have every right to be, but… Let me handle this. I’ll make sure he gets punished. You don’t have to punish him yourself. Move on. Don’t… Don’t kill anyone.”

  Beatrice didn’t get off of Chet, but she did turn her head. She moved slowly, turning to face Conners. She said nothing. Lady wasn’t even sure she was capable of speech.

  “I don’t know how this whole… being dead thing works,” Conners continued, doing a decent job of keeping his cool in an absurd situation. He stepped closer. “One day, Chet will die. You can administer your own justice then. Let me punish him here and now. Let him face consequences for what he did. Let your son know the truth.”

  Beatrice turned back to Chet who was now motionless beneath her. His eyes were closed. Lady hoped desperately that he wasn’t dead.

  “Move on, Beatrice,” Conners urged. “Heck, one day I’ll die too. I regret what happened with your husband. I’ll be wondering what would have happened if I’d done things differently for the rest of my life. I know I can’t fix things, but… I’ll do whatever’s in my power to do. You have my word on that.”

  Beatrice stood. She turned and, in the blink of an eye, closed the distance between herself and Conners. To Conners’ credit, he stood his ground. He didn’t flinch. The two stood facing each other for what felt like an eternity. Then Beatrice began to vanish. It happened so slowly that Lady wasn’t sure it was happening at all until Beatrice was merely an afterimage.

  “She’s gone,” Doyle announced, taking a sip of his
wine and snapping the room out of their collective daze.

  Frankie hurried over to his brother. Lady dropped to her knees and checked his pulse with shaking hands. His skin felt clammy.

  “Is he all right?” asked Frankie, sounding nervous despite all he had just learned about Chet.

  “I don’t…” Lady felt a pulse strong beneath her fingertips. She sighed and sank back onto her heels. “He’s fine. I think he just fainted.”

  Frankie’s shoulders sagged some, relaxing. “What in the world just happened.”

  “A spirit moved on and your brother just confessed to his crimes,” Ms. Poole said coolly, like this was any other Tuesday. She walked to the coffee table. “I wouldn’t eat anything else from the snack platter, by the way. It was spiked with something to get you to loosen your tongues.”

  “What?” Frankie wheeled around, looking at the plate of sandwiches and cheese accusingly.

  Doyle stole another sandwich from the tray before Ms. Poole could pick it up. Truth potion either didn’t concern or work on him. “Conners, you should probably call the police now,” said Ms. Poole, spurring Conners into action. She started in the direction of the kitchen when the wine stain on the floor caught her eye. “Is that what you got the paper towels for? Lady, that is not how you clean up a spill like that. It’s going to stain.”

  ***

  Lady hadn’t planned on spending the next fifteen minutes or so cleaning wine off a rug, but that was how she spent them. Doyle stayed where he was, keeping an eye on Chet who was still out cold on the carpet.

  Lady noticed that Conners wasn’t anywhere to be seen. “Hey,” she began, rising to get off her hands and knees. The stain wasn’t totally gone, but Lady wasn’t sure there was any way she was getting rid of it. Maybe Ms. Poole could magic it out. Apparently, she had potions for plenty of other stuff.

  “He’s outside waiting on the police, I think,” said Doyle. He didn’t need Lady to ask to know what she was wondering.

  “Thanks. I’m gonna go check on him. Do you—”

  “I have things handled here. Go on.” Doyle took another sip of his wine. “This is awful.”