Ghosts Beneath Us: A Third Spookie Town Murder Mystery (Spookie Town Murder Mysteries Book 3) (26 page)

“She loves it and,” Abby bobbed her head at a large white bakery bag on the counter, “she brings home left over donuts every time she works a shift. I think she’s going to keep the job. She likes the customers, the tips and the sense of being enough of a grownup to bring home a paycheck. Kate’s looking for another helper to work the counter and when she finds one it’ll lessen the hours Laura has to put in. Funny thing is, and a new development I never saw coming, Laura wants to learn how to make the donuts so she can help Kate do the baking.”

“The girl is growing up and looking towards the future. It’s smart of her. You know, working with Kate and learning the donut business from the bottom up might serve her well. It’s a nice little job and an easy way to sock money away for art school. Laura still wants to go, doesn’t she?”

“She does. And her art teacher is sure she can get an art scholarship to almost any college she wants in two years when she graduates.” Abby had gotten herself a piece of pie and was eating it at the table with him. “Her grades and her art are that good. She’s saving money for expenses, clothes and things for when she goes. She has great expectations for her future and I know she’ll work hard for it, too. She saw what lack of education and poverty did to her parents, her family, and she wants a different sort of life. She wants to be somebody. I’m proud of her.”

“Laura will be as great an artist someday as you Abby.”

“She’s already better than I was at that age, and anything I can do to help her accomplish her dreams, I’ll do.”

“You’ve been a good mother to those two, you know. I’m proud of you, too.

“How about we go sit out on the porch swing for a while? It’s a warm evening and I crave fresh air. I need porch therapy.”

“That sounds good to me.”

They spent an hour on the swing, talking and watching the night come in. Birds flew around them and wove their way between the limbs of the budding trees until full darkness took over the night and the birds went to their nests to sleep.

Nick came home and an hour later and Abby tucked the two children into bed, or as much as they’d let her. Goodnights, a smile and quick hugs were all the children allowed.

Then he and Abby watched some television and because it was a school night he bowed out early and went home. It had become harder to leave her and the children. He wanted them with him all the time, not living in separate houses, and wondered how he was going to arrange that. There was one way he could think of and lately he’d been thinking about it a lot. And when this latest crisis was taken care of he had decided he’d attend to it.

*****

Frank was yanked from sleep by the ringing of the phone on the nightstand beside him. He grabbed out at it and brought it to his ear as his half-open eyes read the blurry time on his alarm clock. “Frank here…whoever you are…what the heck are you doing calling me at two-thirty-four in the morning?”

A hoarse whisper on the other end hit him. “Frank, someone’s shooting at my damn house! Putting great big holes in my brand new siding! I swear to God I’m going to grab my new stick and go out after them. Give them what for. I’ll show–”

“Myrtle, slow down! Do not go outside. You hear me?
Do not
. Where’s the deputy?”

“How should I know? I don’t see hide nor hair of him but his squad car is still out there.” The whispering was now nearly a yell over the noise of the gunshots in the background.

“Are you down on the floor? If not get down there now! I’ll be right over.” Frank hung up and dialed the sheriff’s department.

“This is Frank Lester, we need some officers over at Myrtle Schmitt’s new place right now! There’s someone over there shooting her house up and trying to kill her. There’s one of your deputies out there but Myrtle says she can’t see a sign of him. He could be in trouble or hurt.” That’d get the cops out there fast enough; probably at light speed.

A moment later he was off the phone, had lunged out of bed, thrown on his clothes, slipped his gun and holster in at his belt and was dashing out of the house.

As he roared up to Myrtle’s modular the first thing his headlights captured was the empty squad car. He heard gunshots and flashing his lights, he revved the engine, hit the horn and made as much noise as he could. He wanted Myrtle’s attackers to know he was there and wanted them to stop shooting at the house. He prayed to God Myrtle and the deputy were unharmed.

The shooting ceased. The night was silent again. He slid out of the truck and, crouching down low to the ground, sidled up to the driver’s side of the police car and peeked in. The deputy, in the dark he couldn’t tell which one it was, was lying on the seat. Not moving. Frank cracked open the door and, still keeping down, checked the man. He was breathing, but he’d been hit. There was blood all over him. There was nothing Frank could do for him, the wounds were too extensive and there was too much blood loss. He needed an ambulance.

Where the hell were the cops?

Frank, huddled close to the ground, brought out his cell phone and keyed in 911. He told the person on the other end he needed an ambulance and gave them the address and his name. “Hurry,” he whispered into the phone, “a police officer has been shot. He needs medical care immediately.”

He eased his body out of the car and keeping as low to the ground as he could while still advancing he made his way towards the house. His gun was in his hand and he was ready in case anyone shot at him. The whole scenario brought back way too many unwelcome memories of his active duty days. Now he remembered why he’d retired. He was too damn old to be scuttling around under fire with a gun in his hands acting like a young recruit.

As he got to Myrtle’s front door he heard a car screeching off somewhere behind the house. In the distance he caught headlights swathing through the gloom and dwindling away.

Then Myrtle threw open the door and launched herself into his arms. The stick she’d been carrying dropped to the floor at her feet. “They shot up my damn house! There are holes everywhere! Those bastards! I tried to catch them and whack ‘em in the head but it was too dark out here and they were too fast for me.”

“Myrtle, what were you thinking? You could have been hurt. They could have killed you.” The old woman shaking in his arms was basically skin and bones. She’d aged so much since the cruise, Tina’s disappearance and Clementine’s death. She’d lost some of her spunk, but not all of it. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if she’d come face to face with her attackers, stick in hand, when they had guns. It was a miracle she was alive.

It made him furious that some dipshits were trying to kill her. What had the world come to that even the old ones were being killed off as if their lives didn’t matter?

“I wasn’t thinking, Frank. I was hopping
mad
! Look what they’ve done to my pretty new house…it’s riddled with bullet holes. Why did they have to do that?”

Frank gently shoved Myrtle into her house and closed the door behind them. He couldn’t take the chance her assailants might still be out there lurking somewhere ready to do more damage. Myrtle switched on the living room light. She’d turned it off when the fireworks had begun. That had been smart. The room was empty except for a sleeping bag in the corner on the rug. Myrtle’s new furniture hadn’t arrived yet. It was supposed to be delivered on Thursday.

“They want you to sell your land, that’s why. They thought they could scare you into selling–or kill you. Either way they’d get the land.”

“No, they wouldn’t. I put everything I own into Abigail’s name last year so it’d go to her. Those murderers wouldn’t have gotten their dirty hands on any of it and it would have served them right.” Myrtle’s chuckle was wicked.

Frank was stunned and wondered if Abigail knew about this change in Myrtle’s will. Most likely not or she would have mentioned it to him.

“Abigail don’t know about her inheritance and you don’t need to tell her, neither. I want it to be a surprise.”

Oh it will be,
Frank thought. “I won’t tell her.”

“Good. Now what are we going to do about that deputy out there? Is he still alive?”

“Barely. He appears to have lost a great deal of blood. I called 911. An ambulance should be on its way.” And right on cue a siren could be heard coming nearer through the night.

Myrtle was aimed for the door. The words, “We gotta go see to him. Come on,” no sooner out of her mouth than she was gone. Frank right behind her.

They got to the squad car as an ambulance, lights blazing and sirens wailing and followed closely by the sheriff’s car, squealed up in front of it. Two paramedics tumbled out and came running, got the wounded police officer, who Frank finally recognized as young Deputy Warren, out of the squad car and onto a stretcher while Frank enlightened them to what had occurred. They checked Deputy Warren’s vitals and slid him into the rear of the ambulance as Frank, Myrtle and Sheriff Mearl watched.

“He’s still breathing,” one of the paramedics assured them before he got back behind the wheel. “There’s a chance he’ll make it if we get him to the hospital soon enough. So we’re out of here.”

The ambulance drove away. Frank knew he’d be checking in on the wounded officer’s condition later that night. He might even go by the hospital to see how he’d fared. He prayed the deputy wouldn’t die.

Then the remaining three of them went inside Myrtle’s house

Sheriff Mearl looked around at the bullet holes in the walls. “What happened here Frank?”

The man was so unobservant he couldn’t figure that out?

Yet it was Myrtle who spoke up. “It’s those fiends, sheriff, who are tormenting us old folks here abouts. The same ones, I’m sure, who are vandalizing our homes and knocking us off one by one to steal our land. They’re scaring us into selling one way or another and this is what happens when we don’t sell to them.” She spread her arms around. “They either terrify us, burn our houses down, shoot them up like Swiss cheese or knock us off. The Lansing Corporation wants our land awful bad.”

“The evil Lansing Corporation conspiracy again, huh? They’re killing off our old folks so they can build some secret illegal government lab or something to do something dangerous to us and the town?” The sheriff tossed a scathing look at Frank. “That’s pure poppycock. No company can get away with doing such preposterous things. It’s ridiculous. This isn’t
Under the Dome
.

“Now her,” he tipped his head at Myrtle, “I can understand believing that nonsense but you, Frank, you know better. You were once a cop and you live in the real world. Well, most of the time anyway. This isn’t some fiction book. This is real life. Corporations don’t go around killing people.”

“Apparently this one does,” Frank snapped. “And what’s worse is they’re not done yet. There’s three more pieces of property they want to purchase and Myrtle’s place here is one of them. According to Martha they have to have all three to sell the deal to the Lansing Corporation.”

“Martha’s in on this, too, huh?” The sheriff shook his head. “I should have known. She’s as imaginative as you, Frank. She should write murder mysteries as well.”

By now Myrtle was angry. She didn’t care much for the sheriff and never had. She thought he was a lazy officer and a foolish man. Frank usually agreed with her and that night was no exception. They weren’t going to get any help from him. He didn’t believe them.

“No matter what you think, sheriff, what happened here tonight is real. Someone tried to kill Myrtle and she needs protection. Someone shot the deputy.”

“On that I agree. Someone shot up her house and someone shot my deputy.” He addressed Myrtle, “You got any enemies, old woman?” There was a smirk on the sheriff’s fat lips.

Myrtle just glared at him.

When she refused to answer him, he went on, “It could have been a drive-by shooting.”

“In Spookie?” Frank almost laughed. “That’s ludicrous.”

“Well,” the sheriff went on, “or it could have been a bunch of drunken old boys driving around having a little bit of fun or teenagers with their daddy’s guns letting off a little steam. Who knows?”

“They shot your deputy,” Frank reminded him. “They could have killed him. That’s not having a bit of drunken fun. We need to catch these people doing these crimes.”

For the first time the sheriff’s demeanor changed. His shoulders slumped and the look on his face was resignation. “I agree on that. They did shoot my deputy tonight. They, whoever they are and for whatever reason they’re doing this, need to be caught. All right, I’ll send another man–two men–out here to guard the house. One of them will be Deputy Caruthers, my best man. He has the experience to better protect Myrtle than Warren had.”

Frank felt a sense of disappointment. Caruthers wouldn’t have been who he would have picked, but the sheriff was right, the senior officer did have more time on the job. It still wouldn’t do.

Then the sheriff did something Frank never would have thought he’d do. He apologized. In his own way, but still an apology. “I admit, Myrtle, I should have taken this all more seriously. We’ll do better next time. You’ll have protection.”

“It’s not enough,” Frank declared. He’d made a decision. “That’s it Myrtle. Pack your bags you’re coming home with me and this time I won’t take no for an answer. You’re in danger here. You’ve escaped harm twice and three times a charm. Until we catch these criminals, you need to be somewhere much safer. My house.”

The sheriff shook his head up and down and muttered, “I think Frank is right. You’ll be safer at his place, Myrtle.” For once the man was using his brain.

“I don’t really have any bags, Frank, except my suitcases from the cruise,” the old woman then grumbled petulantly. Frank could tell she didn’t really want to go, but she was scared. “Most everything I have burned up in the fire remember? All I got is those things and what I scrounged from Tina’s house. I’m even wearing some of her old clothes and, yuck, she had the worst taste, not to mention she was fifty sizes bigger than me. Do I have to leave my new house now? I have so much to do. Heck, leave me a gun and I’ll protect myself. I can shoot, you know, and–”