Muses

by Elizabeth Andre

  Lily paused for a moment, books in hand halfway to their place in one of the boxes. “It didn’t, though. From what I understand, the only fingerprints on that book were Uncle Richard’s. Very precious about his Hemingway and all that he was. He didn’t let anyone else touch them. Some were first editions, quite valuable, apparently. The thing is, Aunt Kate had had a boyfriend for several months, at least a year, before my uncle died, and my uncle knew about it. He didn’t seem to mind.”

  “Really?” Maya said. She leaned down and examined one of the piles of books.

  “I think there was more tension in the few months before he died, but Aunt Kate told me they were working on it. When I came to visit last year they both seemed very pleased with the arrangement. It gave my uncle the time and space to explore his sexuality. It was funny and strangely touching to hear him talk so enthusiastically about meeting men on all these dating apps. He seemed happy that many of them seemed to be looking for a ‘Daddy.’” Lily chuckled.

  “Can you talk a little bit more about why you called us?” Julie asked. She didn’t want the conversation to get sidetracked by talk of gay dating apps.

  “Sure. You two want some tea or something?” Lily put the books in her hand in a box and stepped over a pile of file folders, each one bulging with paper.

  “Tea’s good. What have you got?” Maya asked. She was flipping through a book of 19th century European history.

  “You name it, my aunt’s got it. Come on.”

  Julie and Maya followed Lily to the kitchen. Lily filled a kettle with water and set it on the stove. She opened a cupboard and brought down three mugs decorated with images of Hemingway, Saul Bellow, and William Faulkner. The air smelled musty, much like any other old house that hadn’t been lived in regularly for a few months would, but Julie thought she sensed another odor just beyond her senses. She hoped it was just the tea.

  “Wow, your uncle really liked dead authors,” said Julie, regretting it the moment she said it. Lily gave her an odd look, but much to Julie’s relief she switched the focus quickly to the matter at hand.

  “I know the email I sent you was very short on details,” she said as Maya and Julie took their seats at the yellow Formica table “I was a little out of sorts when I sent it.”

  “You mentioned the Halloween party your aunt and uncle threw,” Maya said.

  “That’s right. According to my aunt, their group of friends usually did something fun for Halloween. Apparently, the party was going really well until it wasn’t. She said over and over that they were having a really good time.” Steam started to emerge from the kettle.

  “Until…” Julie prompted her. She could see that Lily was getting agitated, maybe nervous, possibly even scared.

  “Until shit, pardon my French, started happening. Some of the guests got locked into bathrooms. They started spilling drinks on each other. My aunt said they drank a lot, but not all of them had and not to the point where every single one of them would spill a drink on someone at some point during the party. One of their friends got her head dunked in the toilet multiple times. The toilet flushed itself. A neighbor got locked in a closet. Then the grand finale when they were locked into Uncle Richard’s study and assaulted with books, papers, and assorted knick-knacks. And poor Uncle Richard was killed by his favorite book.” Lily paused and checked the kettle. It was close to boiling.

  “Did your aunt or uncle ever tell you about the ghosts?” Julie asked.

  Lily began placing boxes of various teas on the table. Maya picked out the Earl Grey while Julie went for rooibos with vanilla. The kettle switched off. Lily poured hot water into the mugs and sat down.

  “My uncle told me about them on my visit here last year, but it was clear he wasn’t comfortable talking about them,” said Lily.

  “What did he say exactly?” Maya asked.

  Lily dunked her tea bag up and down in her mug. “He said the house was haunted and that it was haunted by three ghosts who had been sisters when they were alive. They had lived and died in this house. They became his muses. Aunt Kate always referred to them as either the sisters or Richard’s ghosts, depending on her mood. I don’t think she liked them as much as Uncle Richard.” She paused and moved her head like she was listening intently. “They’re quiet at the moment.”

  “The ghosts, you mean,” said Maya.

  Lily nodded. Her smiling face had acquired a sad cast that was getting harder for her to hide.

  “They became your uncle’s muses? Like they inspired him?” Julie asked. “How?”

  “He said that he wrote better after the sisters became his muses. That’s all I know.”

  Maya stirred her tea after adding a little sugar and milk. “You say they’re quiet now. Have they been quiet since you’ve been here? Or have you seen them? I mean, really seen them and heard them?”

  “Sort of.” Lily pulled the tea bag from her mug.

  Two short-haired cats, one black and the other white, ambled into the kitchen then pulled up short to eye the visitors. Lily said their names were Abner and Athena.

  “Well, it’s mostly that I’ve felt like I’m being watched. I feel it most of the time, even at night, just before I fall asleep. I’ve heard a few odd noises. I keep telling myself that they’re just the sounds of an old house.” Lily paused again and took a slow drink from her tea. “And, well, the ghosts like to move things. You put something down in one room, and it shows up in another room.”

  Maya reached down to scratch Abner behind his ears. “Hmmm. Maybe it’s just these two who are spying on you.”

  Lily smiled. “No. They were my uncle’s cats, and the only time they pay attention to me is when it’s time for me to feed them or when they want me to rub their bellies. This feeling of being watched… It’s like the atmosphere changes. I don’t know how to describe it.”

  Julie wondered if Maya felt anything ghostly. She sometimes talked with ghosts. They sometimes spoke through her. If anyone was going to feel something ghostly it would be Maya.

  “Do you feel like we’re being watched right now?” Maya asked.

  Julie gave Maya a curious look. She noticed that Maya was making an effort not to meet her gaze.

  “Not at this moment, but I’m sure it’ll happen again soon.”

  “Or maybe they only spy on you.” Julie blew on her tea and stirred it to cool it down.

  “Why would they do that?” Lily sounded confused. “Why just me?”

  “You want us to investigate and most likely get rid of them so you can get this place ready for your aunt to sell,” Julie said.

  “The ghosts don’t want to be displaced.” Maya said as she pushed back from the table and crossed her legs. “This is their home, or it was at one time. They will not appreciate your attempts to get them out.”

  “Let’s get back to your uncle and his books,” Julie said. “So, he really used the ghosts as inspiration to write?”

  “Yep, although he never told Aunt Kate what they did for him exactly. Have you read The Whitebinder Staff? It’s the first book in my uncle’s Allorahan and Syrreth series.”

  Maya grinned. “I read the first few books in that series. The first three were pretty good, addictive. The fourth one was okay. After that, though, well…”

  “You didn’t bother with the fifth, sixth, et cetera? You’re not alone,” Lily said. “He still had some die-hard fans, but after the sixth book in the series, even some of them were questioning his choices. Aunt Kate told me that he stopped letting her read the manuscripts after the fifth book.”

  “I’ve never heard of these books,” Julie said. “What are they about?”

  “It’s a wizard and a dragon, and they fight crime.” Maya added, “This is great tea, by the way. Thanks.”

  “It’s all Aunt Kate’s. She’s the tea connoisseur. Yeah, the wizard and dragon books actually made a lot of money for Uncle Richard, at least the first few. I’m not sure what’s gonna happen with his books and all that. My aunt said that some m
ovie or TV producer had bought the rights, but so far hasn’t done anything with them.”

  Julie made a mental note to check out Richard’s books. “I think it would be a good idea if we took a look at your uncle’s study. That’s where the most activity occurred, right?” she said as she pushed away from the table. She thought she heard a scraping sound but convinced herself that it was just her chair moving along the floor.

  Lily stood up. “That’s right. The study is just through the living room.”

  They followed Lily back to the living room and into the study. The study door was covered in deep scratches. The room was in greater disarray than the others. Shreds of crime scene tape hung from the door frame. Some books were in piles, but several were splayed ungracefully on the floor.

  “So, do you have a special camera that captures ghostly images or something? I read a little bit about ghost hunting before I contacted you,” Lily said.

  Maya began walking around the study, picking up one item after another.

  Lily seemed to be watching her. Lily looked away from Maya for a moment and at Julie. She blushed and tried to hold back a smile, as if she’d been caught at something she didn’t want anyone to see.

  Well, well, Julie thought. I wonder if Maya has noticed that Lily has noticed her?

  “Actually, we just have ordinary cameras. They do a pretty good job. We’ll bring our videographer next time,” Maya said, referring to Penny. Maya picked up a glass paperweight with a crack running through it and continued her visual inspection of the room. Her hair hadn’t been cut in a while. The curls framed her head and fell past her shoulders. Her brown skin was a little paler. It was January, after all. Julie totally understood why Lily would look at her with piqued interest. Julie liked looking at her, too. She wasn’t sure they would ever be more than friends, if that could ever work.

  No, she doesn’t seem to notice yet that Lily has noticed her, Julie thought.

  Maya turned and smiled at Lily. “Can you tell us what your encounter with the ghosts was like?”

  “Oh yes. There have actually been several encounters.”

  “Several? How many is several?” Julie looked down on the spot where Richard had fallen after being hit with the book. “That sounds more significant than ‘sort of’”

  Lily took a deep breath and sat on the edge of the desk. “It just all seems so crazy,” she said. “I came here as soon as I could after I heard about what had happened. I’ve always been close with Kate and Richard. After my parents died, I looked at them more like a mother and father. My own parents never were as accepting of me as Kate and Richard were.

  “Anyway, I got here a week after my uncle died, in time for the wake and funeral. It was an awful time, not just because my uncle had died so suddenly, but also the fact that Kate was under suspicion of having killed him. I stayed about a week after that. I noticed little things, like I’d put something down—a hairbrush for example—on the vanity in the bathroom. The next time I went to use it, which could be a few hours later or the next day, it was gone. I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, I could have moved it. But that happened every day, and not just with the brush.”

  “That would be annoying,” Julie said.

  Lily nodded. “For sure. I told my aunt about it after a few days and, I don’t know. It was weird. At first, it was like she didn’t hear me. She would change the subject. I decided it must be grief. I mean, she really did love him even if she’d gotten herself a boy toy on the side, so I thought she was just distracted by Richard’s sudden death and having to deal with the funeral and stuff like that.”

  “Was stuff being moved around the only thing that happened?” Maya had squatted down and was examining the books that were scattered on the floor. She picked each one up, flipped through the pages, shook them, and then put them back down on the floor.

  Lily shifted from one foot to the other. “There were the odd noises. And, well… I’m not crazy. It really did happen.”

  “It’s all right. Just tell us,” said Julie. “We believe you.”

  Maya gave Lily that smile suffused with kindness and warmth that could melt anyone she turned it on. It had melted Julie when they had first met. It melted her now.

  Lily blushed. “My last night when I was here for my uncle’s funeral—I stayed in the guest room that I’m staying in now. It was late, and I’d just finished packing. I got into bed, but I was feeling a bit restless, so I read for a little while. I guess it was just after midnight when I put out the light and snuggled down under the covers. That’s when it happened, the sudden cold. It was cold like I’d never felt. I shivered under the covers for a minute or so, then I sat up and decided to get out of there and check the thermostat. But when I tried getting out of bed, I was pushed back down onto the bed, quite violently.”

  Julie took out her phone and started taking notes on it.

  Lily went on to describe her efforts at trying to get up and again and again being pushed back down. “It eventually stopped. I mean, whatever was doing it eventually stopped. The room got warmer, but there was this weird smell I didn’t recognize, like old perfume or burnt flowers.”

  “How long did it last?” asked Julie.

  “It seemed like a long time, like half an hour, but I doubt it actually lasted that long, maybe more like five minutes.”

  Julie saw Lily shudder. Maya must have seen it, too, because she placed her hand on top of Lily’s for a moment. Lily smiled, seemingly grateful for the gesture. Julie was convinced Lily had more to tell, but she didn’t seem ready, yet.

  “Lily, I was wondering if you could leave Julie and me alone in here for a bit. We won’t be long, but we need to get a feel for the room,” Maya said.

  Lily stood. “Sure. Sure. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. I don’t like being in here anyway.”

  After Lily left, Maya began walking around the room and ran her fingers over various surfaces. The walls were covered in a dark flock wallpaper that was marred with scratches and stains. One looked like a glass of red wine had gone splat. She tapped the wooden shelves. They were old and solid.

  “I really did enjoy the first few books in his wizard detective and dragon sidekick series. They were fun and original at the time,” she said.

  “Sounds goofy but if done well I could see it being successful. Was this Richard Vinette guy really a good writer?” Julie rifled through a messy sheaf of papers on the desk. They appeared to mostly be notes for another book with the occasional receipt for a soda and chips.

  “Like I said, I liked the first four books of that series he wrote. I didn’t like the fifth one. That’s all I read. I think I bought the first two at a used bookstore that was going out of business. I think I paid fifty cents for both of them. I paid full price for the third and fourth books.”

  Julie went to the window that looked over the backyard and opened the drapes. Like the rest of the study, they had a heaviness and a darkness to them. Opening them let in more sunlight, but the study’s gloom remained. “I guess the sisters weren’t as helpful as they could have been.”

  “Shhh. You shouldn’t insult them,” chastised Maya.

  Julie chortled. “I know I shouldn’t do that but really. He got a few good books out of them and then he lost his mojo? Raw deal if you ask me.”

  “Some authors would kill to be able to write and sell just a few good books. I wonder if they were here from the start?”

  “From the start?”

  “I mean, from when Kate and Richard first moved here. Or if he conjured them.”

  Julie sat down in the chair behind the desk and took out her phone. She ignored the text from Gabi asking when they would get together again and started taking photos of the study. “You think he had that kind of power?”

  “Well, some people stumble into it. I mean, it’s not out of the realm of possibility that someone like Richard, someone with an active imagination and who loves books, could have come across information that would lead him t
o calling up some spirits for help.” Maya ran her index finger along the spine of several books that were still on shelves. “And it seems that whenever it happens, it’s almost always a disaster. Then again, they might have just come with the house.”

  Julie began opening the desk drawers. In one of the drawers she found a date book, miscellaneous papers, and receipts. Buried under all that were five black leather-bound journals. She opened one, looking for the last entry. It was dated March 2015.

  “What’ve you got there?” Maya asked.

  “Journals. There are five of them here.” Julie continued to flip through the pages. “Looks like he wrote in them most days.”

  “Let me see one.” Maya held out her hand. Julie gave her one. Maya began flipping through its pages. “This one covers February of 2014 through November of the same year. He had a lot to write about that year.”

  “Any of it about the sisters?”

  “Oh yes. And he doodles. He’s really good at doodling,” said Maya, grabbing a seat on the loveseat.

  “What did he say about the sisters?”

  “Let me see. Here’s one. It’s from June 10, 2014. He writes, ‘The reviews of The Black Cinder Circle have been mostly lukewarm. Not up to the standards of the previous books, one said. The action scenes are flaccid, another writes. That was a low blow, ha-ha, but I don’t disagree with that assessment entirely. Kate says I rushed through it. Could be. Pulp writers cranked their shit out back in the day and their stuff is still some of the best read stories around. I’ve been thinking this for a couple of weeks now, but I’m wondering if the sisters have outlived, ha-ha, their usefulness.” She flipped back and forth in the pages. “That seems to be where he first writes about doubt regarding his muses. That book was the first one that was just not as good as the others.”

  Maya kept flipping through that journal while Julie started reading aloud from one that dated back to 2009. In one entry, Richard wrote a little about when he and Kate had first moved into the house.