Ghosts Beneath Us: A Third Spookie Town Murder Mystery (Spookie Town Murder Mysteries Book 3) (15 page)

“I will.” Abigail didn’t say anything to Kate about the gun, but it made her look at the woman differently. The donut maker wasn’t as helpless as she had at first thought.

Kate’s coffee was gone, their break was over and the woman finally smiled. “Okay, now let me see those sketches you’ve brought. The painters are coming in Monday so the walls should be ready for your artwork by, oh, I’d say, Wednesday or Thursday at the latest.”

“That’ll work for me. I could have another commission by the end of next week sometime. An acquaintance of my realtor friend, Martha, wants me to paint a humongous picture of her house complete with the family members and their pets lounging outside it. She’s got a husband, three kids and two dogs.”

“Sounds like a big job.”

“It will be. But her house is in town and it’s old-fashioned, elegant, and gorgeously landscaped. There are weeping cherry trees on both sides. It’s lovely. I’m looking forward to painting it. It’ll make a stunning painting.”

By then Kate was studying the sketches, her fingers sliding across the paper, the smile still on her lips. “Wow, these are great, perfect, and the colors are subtle but enticing. It was as if you read my mind. The donuts look so real. Good enough to eat.”

“That’s what I was aiming for.”

Abigail spent the morning helping Kate do other tasks around the shop and then she went home. She was supposed to be at Frank’s at four to make a five o’clock movie matinee but after the events of the last few days she wasn’t sure they would be going to any movie. She didn’t feel like it. They’d probably just stay in.

*****

Frank and Abigail sat on Frank’s front porch in the twilight, their hands clasped between chairs. There was a splendid sunset and they were enjoying it. It was a warm evening, as warm as the day had been. No rain in sight. They hadn’t gone to the movies. Neither one had been in the mood to, not with everything that had been going on.

Frank had spent the earlier part of the day on Myrtle’s cruise ship, gently interrogating the captain and crew and going over Tina’s last known movements on the boat.

The two were discussing her disappearance and what may have happened as the remaining rays of the sun lingered around them.

“The captain was cooperative but couldn’t add anything else helpful to my inquiries,” Frank disclosed as shadows partially hid his face. “No one saw or heard anything and Tina hasn’t been seen since she left the lounge night before last. It was as if–poof–she basically vanished off the boat. If I had to make a judgment on what happened, I’d concur with the captain. Tina somehow fell overboard and drowned.”

“Or was pushed.” She felt a shiver up her spine even though it wasn’t cold outside.

“Or was pushed.”

Before she arrived Abigail had clued him in on the phone about what she’d learned from Kate. That Kate’s mother was being persecuted, too.

“After you called me today and after I left the boat I also dropped by Clementine’s,” Frank had said over the supper he’d made them, “and attempted to speak to her about what she’s gone through. But I’m afraid I didn’t get much from her and even less of what I did made sense. She ranted on and on about roaming phantoms, men in suits coming to her door in the middle of the night, and couldn’t remember what I’d asked her seconds after I’d asked. I’m no doctor but she definitely has late-stage dementia or something. She kept asking me where Kate was and who I was. I told her her daughter would be there soon and I didn’t stay long. I’m not sure if anything she told me was true or not, not with her state of mind or lack thereof.”

“Kate probably was there soon after. When I left the donut shop she was getting ready to go over to her mother’s house. After she spoke with me she was eager to see her and make sure she was okay.

“You know if you’d like I could go with you tomorrow morning and talk to Clementine. I had a great-aunt with dementia when I was younger and I always found a way to get her to talk to me and make sense of what she said. I can listen to what she says and see what I come up with?”

“That’s a good idea. I had the feeling the woman knew more than she was telling but was afraid. And I was almost a stranger to her. We’d met on the streets and at the town’s functions before over the years but she didn’t seem to remember me. And at first she was frightened of me. Before I left, though, I did check out the house and grounds and didn’t see any damage of any sort anywhere. If someone wants her to move they aren’t subjecting her to the same treatment as the others. Probably because her mind isn’t there. Terrorizing her wouldn’t do much good. Her mind is confused enough.”

“Then tomorrow we’ll visit her. I’ll bring a coffee cake or something. Be a good neighbor. That might put her at ease. I’ll call Kate when I get home tonight and tell her what we’re doing because I’m sure she’ll be at her mother’s house in the morning–if she isn’t at the shop. If Kate’s there perhaps Clementine will really open up.”

“Another good idea. All right,” Frank squeezed her hand, “operation friendly visit tomorrow morning. But I’ve provide the refreshments. The town bakery makes the best cheese cake. I’ll pick one up on the way there.”

“Oh, I know that cheese cake you speak of and it is heavenly. If anything can melt an old woman’s heart and clear her cloudy mind, it should.”

A breeze danced and sang around them as the light ebbed away. The dogs were barking in the backyard. They wanted out to roam free and be with Frank. But he had other ideas for the rest of the evening and the dogs would have to stay where they were.

After Frank gave her a kiss, she asked, “You said you had your own theories on what may be going on with the old people? Are you going to explain it to me now? Have you solved the puzzle yet?”

“I might have. As I’ve pointed out before: all the victims live in a ten mile radius, some are thinking of selling and moving, some stubbornly are not. The ones that don’t want to sell are the ones being besieged. It’s the properties. Someone wants their land and they want to scare the owners into selling and, in some instances, it’s working.”

“That simple?” She was shocked. The same solution had occurred to her but, for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine any land or house being worth killing for. Some of the houses were not much more than shacks or run-down mansions which had seen better days. And Beatrice was dead. Tina could be as well. “You mean the awful things that have been done to the old people were calculated and coordinated?”

“Oh, it’s not all that simple. Take Beatrice and Tina…they would never sell their homes or the land they’re on. I know that for a fact. Probably that’s why they’re dead. The true mystery is why someone wants their land enough to torment and kill for it. I’m still working on that angle.”

“Hmm, you know Martha said something to me the other day that might or might not play into that.”

“What?” He’d moved their chairs closer together and his arm had slid around her.

“She said there have been insidious rumors going around in her real estate office for months that a private corporation wants to build a massive complex somewhere around here. It’s been all hush hush, though. That coincidence seems suspect to me.”

“It does to me, too.”

“The thing is, there’s available land everywhere, so why would they have to have our old people’s land and why this particular section of land on the outskirts of Spookie?”

“There’s not as much available land as you think, especially around here, away from big cities and prying eyes.” Frank exhaled and rose from his chair. “But those are important questions I’d also like to get answers to. And I’ll let you know when I do. I have a friend in the Naval Intelligence Service, NIS–Charlie Bledsoe–who is really good at uncovering those sorts of answers. I’ll give him a call first thing tomorrow morning before we visit Clementine and see if he’ll look into it.”

Abigail laughed. “You
always
have a
friend
you can call.”

“It’s true.” His tone was playful. “I have many friends. Isn’t that what life’s about? Friends, family and…lovers?”

This time when he kissed her there was no need for further words. They went inside and closed the door. Having a weekend, having two nights, to themselves was a gift they never squandered. On those occasions she often spent the night with him. After two years their love affair had matured into a committed relationship. And she knew her dead husband Joel was smiling down on her, pleased she’d finally found love. That was the kind of man he had been. He’d want her to be happy.

Abigail wondered what she’d do when Frank asked her to marry him because she supposed it’d be soon. It was her woman’s intuition. She had the children, but Frank loved them and they loved him, so no obstacle there. They could be a family. One day.

*****

“I’ve never seen the fog so thick this late into the morning.” Abigail was gazing out Frank’s kitchen window the next day. It was ten o’clock and they were eating the breakfast she and Frank had made together; both still in their pajamas. He’d fried the bacon and eggs and Abigail had made the toast and squeezed the fresh orange juice.

“It is unusually thick, isn’t it?”

“It’s like pudding. I can’t see past your deck. There are only muted orbs of light bouncing around out there in the yard. It’s spooky, but sort of pretty.”

“Here in the woods it’s often like this. The fog closes around my cabin like night. It feels as if I’m all alone in the world.” Frank took her hand, the one she wasn’t using to eat with, and brought it to his lips, lightly kissing it.

Abigail smiled at him. The night they’d spent together had been perfect and in some ways she didn’t want it to end. But it was Sunday and they had places to be, people to see. Then that evening they had to go pick up the kids and it’d be life back to normal.

They were done with breakfast when Abigail’s cell phone, on the table beside her, rang.

It was Myrtle. “Abigail, I’m at Clementine’s house–just dropped by to check in on her because now after Tina going missing and Beatrice coming up dead I’m worried sick about all my friends–and she’s not here. She’s not anywhere. I’ve looked. Upstairs, downstairs. Well, everywhere but the basement. I won’t go down there, no way. Clementine told me often enough that’s where the spooks congregate so I stay out of there. But I yelled all over for her and no answer. Oops, another one missing!”

“
Oh no.
” Abigail gave Frank a horrified look. “Myrtle, is her daughter Kate there?”

“No. No one’s here but me.” The old woman hesitated and then jumped back in. “I ran into a glob of phantoms in the fog on the way over here. There’s more than usual and you know what that always means? Trouble. They were hiding behind the trees observing me with their sly ghostie eyes. They’re up to something I’d bet my next social security check on it. And I might have seen Clementine with them. I’m not sure, though, because I couldn’t get close enough to her. Or it. You gotta come over pronto. Something’s not right here. We got to look for Clementine.”

Frank stopped eating and murmured, “What’s happened?”

She moved the phone away from her mouth and whispered, “Now Clementine is missing.” She brought the phone back to her ear.

“I’m at Frank’s. We’ll be right over, Myrtle. Don’t go anywhere, you hear?” But Myrtle had already hung up.

“Well, this running over to help a distressed Myrtle is becoming quite a habit, huh?” Abigail said to Frank as they got up from the table.

“It is, and I don’t like it one bit. There’s too many missing and dead people for my liking. We better go, though.”

“Yes, we better.”

They dressed and drove over to Clementine’s. Frank had looked her address up in the local telephone book and found it was, of course, in the same area as the others. Later she would peer out of one of Beatrice’s rear windows and see Clementine’s tan roof across the field. That close. The house was a box style with a second story stacked on top and it was surrounded by stately maple trees. Its green paint was flaking and some of the wood beneath was rotted and cracked. It had a long porch spanning the front and worn-looking shutters on the windows. It could have used some work. A lot of work.

As they were coming into the driveway Kate drove up as well. The three of them met at the front door, which was standing wide open.

“What’s going on?” Kate stared first at the open door and then at Abigail. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi Kate,” Abigail spoke first. “We just got a call from Myrtle from here. She said your mother was missing and she’s not anywhere in the house. So we came right over.”

“We?” Kate’s eyes were on Frank.

“Kate, this is my boyfriend, Frank Lester. He lives in Spookie, he’s an ex-cop, and since we’ve been looking into a rash of older people in this area being hassled, he came with me.” Abigail didn’t mention the murders.

Kate acknowledged him with a bob of her head and shoved through the doorway into the house. “Mom! Mom!” she shouted as she made her way through the rooms. “Where are you? It’s all right, if you’re hiding somewhere, but please come out now. These are my friends and they won’t hurt you.”

No response. The house and the ghosts were silent. Kate ran upstairs and as the Abigail and Frank waited in the kitchen, she searched the top floor. Her frantic footsteps could be heard above them.

Abigail swung around and there stood Myrtle. “Where did you come from?”

“I was outside the back door there in the yard,” she jerked a thumb in the direction behind her, “searching for Clementine. But the darn fog is so thick I couldn’t see a thing. And there’s no way I’m going into the woods around the house hunting for her when there’s so many ghosts out there lurking, ready to pounce on me.

“I’ll leave that part of the deal up to you young ones. Just be careful of the spooks…they’re on the warpath today for some reason.” The old woman’s head bobbed on her skinny neck. Her hair, on top of her head, was a riddled with bobby pins and her polka dotted dress had smears of dirt down the front of it. She’d been rambling around outside all right. She hobbled to a chair and dropped into it with a weary sigh. “I’m taking a rest for a minute.”