by JL Bryan
“You and me both, honey,” Adaire replied.
“Where’s Mazzanti?” I asked.
“That chump? Once Antonio got wind of how you worked over Stanley Preston, he beat feet. Went on the lam. He’s afraid Johnny Law is after him, on account of how he did me wrong, and he figures the cell they got waiting for him is going to be a hot one.”
“Let’s hope he’s right. What about you? Are you able to move on now?”
“Oh, I’ve got a ticket in my pocket, don’t you worry. I may have been a little bit of a sinner—well, a lot of one—but I’m sure they’ve seen worse. I just thought I’d have a last look at this picture. They say Antonio was a genius, but I don’t see it. I’d rather think I was murdered by a genius, though. Wouldn’t you? That’s got more zing than getting done in by some lousy ex-lover who bristled at getting brushed off.”
“I can’t believe it’s really you!” Stacey gushed onward. “I mean, wow. I totally love you!”
“Love ya, too, blondie. You’re quite the minx,” Adaire told her, and Stacey touched a hand over her heart, awed. To me, Adaire said, “And you’ve got gumption—I can tell about people, and I could tell that about you. You’ve got it in spades. That’s why I reached out to you.”
“I thought you said I had stones.”
“Oh, you’ve got those, too, honey.”
“Gumption stones,” Jacob said. “Sounds like something my grandfather would develop from eating too much dairy.”
Adaire kept looking at me like he hadn’t said a word. That was probably for the best. “You take care. There’s a lot of jackals out there.”
“I know. You, too.”
“Looks like I’ve got a train to catch.”
“Sure you don’t want to stay for the rest of the movie?” Stacey asked, clearly hoping to stretch this into a slumber party with the dead star.
Adaire glanced at the screen, where girls in angel costumes stabbed a man with daggers, getting blood all over their lacy white dresses and fluffy white wings. She shook her head. “I’m afraid I’m just not a fan of Antonio Mazzanti.”
“And why would you be after he murdered you?” Stacey asked. “We can play any movies you like.”
Adaire gave her a long look. “You’re a good egg,” she finally told Stacey. “Take care.”
Then she moved past us, her sunglasses on, carrying a valise and a hatbox, items that had been nowhere in evidence a moment before.
Adaire left the room and walked out of sight down the stairs. We didn’t hear the door at the bottom open or close, but when we went to look, she was gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
“I can’t believe you actually solved the murder of Adaire Fontaine,” Callie said, pacing among the dusty holiday decorations. Benny knelt in front of the coffin decoration, hammering the flat end of a crowbar under the edge. Stacey was outside, playing Frisbee with Daisy. Or perhaps they had moved on to lose-ball.
“Well, not technically,” I said, glancing at the Body in the Basement poster on the wall. “Not in a way you could prove in court, or even to a reputable journalist. All we learned was that the guy everyone suspected actually was the murderer. We actually solved the Silk Strangler murders, which everyone believed had been solved decades ago.”
Benny grunted as he pried open the coffin lid and eased it away, wary of the nails protruding on the underside.
We all looked into the coffin.
“Well, there it is,” Benny finally said, the first one to get his voice back. “That’s evidence.”
Two Super 8 spools were inside. I was guessing they showed the murders of Grace and Portia. I certainly wasn’t eager to watch, especially since I’d already watched them before, quite involuntarily.
In addition, there were a couple of silk scarves and a pair of sunglasses with thick, circular, pitch-black lenses, of the type worn by Antonio Mazzanti. They were likely the last pair he’d ever worn. Murder souvenirs.
“What should we do with all this stuff?” Callie asked me, looking pained.
“Good question,” I said. “We can’t bring Stanley Preston to justice for his murders, because he’s already dead. But there’s no innocent person to exonerate, either, even posthumously, because Mazzanti did kill Adaire. So… it’s up to you, really.”
“I hate to say it, but it would definitely attract heaps of free publicity,” Benny said. “Although ‘the murder drive-in’ doesn’t really have the best ring to it.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Callie looked at the Body in the Basement poster on the wall, the basement door slightly open, the dirt-covered hand of The Body reaching out. “Maybe we’ll see if the victims still have any living family members who might want to know. That’s all I can think of.”
They decided to replace the lid for the short term. Benny hammered it back into place.
“That’s it, right?” Benny stood, brushing dust from his jeans. “No more weird dude up here on the third floor? Nobody harassing the theater patrons?”
“I think Ruby’s moved on,” I said. “She started haunting Preston heavily after he committed his murders. She didn’t want him to grow more powerful by preying on your customers or your family. She was trying to protect you, in her very unpleasant way. But now that it’s over, I’d consider getting rid of that farmhouse completely, every bit down to the soil, and replace it with plant life.”
“I’m totally for that,” Callie said. “More room and more light for the garden. And no weird, scary house looking down on me with an angry ghost inside. That’s an upgrade.”
“Same advice for the old projection house. Demolish it, fill it with earth, put some plant life down to recycle any residual psychic energy,” I added.
So it came to pass that, a couple of weeks later, the Nite-Lite Drive-In hosted a real barn-burner of a housewarming party. Guests of honor included my boyfriend, Michael Holly, and a number of others from the Savannah Fire Department, who were happy to set the farmhouse ablaze for a training exercise, after bulldozing a firebreak around it.
This event, which would be staged before the evening’s movie began, was interesting enough that a number of their friends came to view it, and they ended up temporarily removing several fence panels and replacing them with yellow DO NOT CROSS tape, so people could watch from the safety of the enormous lawn.
Also in attendance were assorted film-school friends of Stacey’s and friends of Jacob, including their informal Bad Movie Club that met occasionally to watch only the very worst of movies.
The house was reduced to a bonfire by the time the sky started turning dark.
Personally, I kept my distance, because I have my reasons for not particularly enjoying fires at all. I hung around the concession stand with Callie, who had a cousin in town, helping her babysit and run the concession stand. I played lose-ball with Daisy and did not win, but also avoided any organ damage from her swiftly stabbing rods. And I didn’t spin my rods anymore, either. Rules are rules.
Visitors thronged the concession stand, grabbing treats or ordering pizza before the first movie began, as Benny’s announcements over the outdoor speakers repeatedly encouraged everyone to do. He played music to keep things festive when he wasn’t hawking the wares. I didn’t recognize too many of the bands.
When the outdoor lights dimmed, the projector ignited, and a huge cartoon appeared on the screen, the crowd cheered. Many were sitting in lawn or camping chairs outside their cars.
The first cartoon was a vintage concession stand ad—Benny wasn’t joking with the salesmanship, but the dancing drinks and popcorn buckets really felt like part of the experience anyway.
Michael and I sat in the back of his truck, a red 1949 Chevrolet pickup that he’d restored. I wondered whether its previous owners had ever taken it to a drive-in theater, maybe even this very one. We lined the truck bed with sleeping bags and domesticated it further with pillows and blankets. It was a warm, clear night, made warmer with a hot cheese pizza from Callie’s brick oven.
> “This is amazing,” Michael said, taking a crunchy, gooey bite.
“The pizza?”
“Yeah, the whole thing.”
“They call it a package experience. I now have a lifetime VIP membership.”
“They should just call it the city’s best pizza place, but with a drive-in theater tacked on out back. What’s the feature tonight?”
“It’s a double feature in honor of the fire training exercise. There’s Firestarter, where we watch an elementary-age Drew Barrymore destroy things with her mind. Then The Towering Inferno, a 70s disaster movie I’ve never seen.”
“Are you sure you’ll be okay with all that fire?” he asked. I was touched, because he knew I really wasn’t.
“I’ll watch the Drew Barrymore one,” I said. “For the second one, I might need to be distracted.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I might even need to pull the covers over my head.”
“Maybe I’ll join you in solidarity. If the movie gets boring.”
I leaned against him, enjoying his warmth, his arm around me.
We’d faced some dark things on this case, but we’d driven them out, and freed a few souls who needed it. We’d protected our clients, a struggling young family with a wacky dream. Maybe it would work out for them. I certainly hoped so.
The lights dimmed more, and the crowd grew quiet in anticipation.
Up on the big screen, the movie began.
FROM THE AUTHOR
I hope you enjoyed this latest adventure from Ellie and Stacey. I’ve played with the idea of writing about a haunted movie theater for a while; eventually I settled on a drive-in because it’s such a unique setting and usually evokes a particular period of the twentieth century. Once I learned that some of the early screens were large enough to hold storage, offices, and apartments, it was impossible to resist using that as a setting! The ruins of drive-ins can be found all over America, in various states of disrepair, some of them just signs or skeletal remnants, but a few hundred of them remain open around, still exhibiting films under the stars.
The next book in the Ellie series will be The Lodge, set on one of Georgia’s Sea Islands, among the many abandoned Gilded Age mansions like those found on Cumberland and Jekyll Island. They’ll be facing some interesting ghosts on an isolated, once-luxurious private island. Appropriately for an island/beach tale, that should be published in mid to late summer (2021). Pre-order The Lodge if you want a copy the moment it comes out!
Thanks for reading these books! Subscribe to my newsletter to hear about new releases. And follow on Facebook for more frequent updates, ghost memes, etc.:.
Newsletter (recommended!)
Website (www.jlbryanbooks.com)
Facebook (J. L. Bryan’s Books)
Also by J.L. Bryan:
The Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper series
Ellie Jordan, Ghost Trapper
Cold Shadows
The Crawling Darkness
Terminal
House of Whispers
Maze of Souls
Lullaby
The Keeper
The Tower
The Monster Museum
Fire Devil
The Necromancer’s Library
The Trailwalker
Midnight Movie
The Lodge
Urban Fantasy/Horror
The Unseen
Inferno Park
Time Travel/Dystopian
Nomad
The Jenny Pox series (supernatural/horror)
Jenny Pox
Tommy Nightmare
Alexander Death
Jenny Plague-Bringer
