by Terri Reid
“I know,” Mary answered, taking a quick sip of the milk. “He’s such a rude child.”
Giggling, Clarissa nodded. “I’m sure I wasn’t rude like that,” she said. “It’s a good thing he’s cute.”
“Exactly,” Mary said. “So, do you need any help with your homework?”
Shaking her head, Clarissa hurried back to the kitchen. “No, it’s pretty easy stuff,” she said. “Just math and science.”
“Yeah, math and science, the easy stuff,” Mary replied. “Have I mentioned that I think you’re brilliant?”
Carrying the glass of milk and cookies to the kitchen table, Clarissa paused and looked over at her mom. “Yeah, I think you might have mentioned that,” she teased, then she continued to the table.
“Have I mentioned that I think you are going to be the next Silicon Valley billionaire and I’m planning on moving in with you in your mansion?” she teased.
With a white mustache on her upper lip and a mouthful of cookies, Clarissa shrugged. "You can move in as long as you keep making cookies," she replied.
“Deal,” Mary said.
“But I’m not going to move to California,” Clarissa clarified.
“You’re not?” Mary asked.
Pulling her notebooks out of her backpack, Clarissa shook her head and then turned to Mary. "No, I'm going to move to Chicago and Maggie, and I are going to share an apartment," she said.
“Well, I like that,” Mary said. “Then you’re not too far away.”
Perfectly serious, Clarissa nodded again. “Maggie’s going to work for Uncle Ian,” she continued. “And I’m going to work for Niki.”
“Oh, Uncle Art’s friend?” Mary asked.
“Yeah, she does really cool stuff with computers,” Clarissa replied. “And she told me that I could have a job with her when I got older.”
A little pang hit Mary's heart; she did not want to think about Clarissa getting older and moving away. "How about we pretend that you're not growing up so quickly and that you're going to stay my little girl forever?" Mary suggested.
Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Mom, Silicon Valley billionaires are not little girls,” she said. “I’m going to have to grow up sometime.”
Mary nodded. "But sometimes is a long, long, long time away," she said.
Smiling, Clarissa glanced over at Mary. “Okay, I promise to stay a little girl for a long, long, long time if I can have another cookie.”
Mary laughed. "Deal," she said. "But if you grow up too quickly, you owe me."
Chapter Eight
Mikey was sleeping peacefully, and Bradley was sitting on the couch working on paperwork when Mary slipped on her coat and then walked across the room. Bradley looked up at her, concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Rosie and have her come over to watch Mikey so that I can go with you?" he asked.
Rosie and Stanley Wagner were good friends with Mary and Bradley and the adoptive grandparents to both of their children. Just before Christmas, Stanley had been caught in a house fire caused by a malevolent spirit that had followed Mary home from an asylum she was investigating. He had just been released from the hospital a few weeks earlier and was still recovering.
She shook her head. "No, Stanley is still having a hard time getting around," she said. "So, I don't want her to leave him. Besides, I'll just be across the street, and Maybelle was not threatening in the least. All she wants to do is undo her father's wrongs."
“If you feel the least bit uncomfortable or nervous, you leave right away, okay?” he asked.
She smiled, then bent over and kissed him. “I will,” she said. “And I’ll have my phone with me, so I can call…”
"Why don't you call me now," he suggested, “and just leave the phone in your pocket so that I can hear your conversation and you can call out to me if you need me?"
“You really are worried about this,” she realized, suddenly feeling uneasy. “Why? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”
Looking at her face, he realized that his overprotectiveness was causing Mary more worry than necessary. Shaking his head, he smiled at her. “No, I’m just being more paranoid than usual for no reason at all.”
Then he paused, and his smile turned into a grin. “Actually, I’m probably worried that if anything happened to you, I would have to raise two children on my own. And, you know, I don't have the equipment to feed Mikey.”
She felt her tension melt away, and she smiled. "Really?" she asked. "You're not just saying that because you were freaking me out?"
He stood up, put his arms around her and sighed. "I'm not just saying that," he said. "And I apologize for freaking you out. You'll be fine with Maybelle. I have to remember to stop worrying so much."
She looked up at him. “But that’s your job,” she teased.
He kissed her on her forehead. “And don’t you forget it,” he replied.
Smiling, she stepped out of his arms and glanced at Mikey. “He should sleep for at least another couple of hours,” she said. “But I don’t think I’ll be that long.”
He nodded. “Take as long as you need,” he replied, biting back any words of caution. He knew he needed to be positive. “I’ve got plenty of work to keep me busy.”
“Thanks,” she said. “See you soon!”
She hurried out the door before she changed her mind. She wasn't worried about Maybelle at all; she was worried about Mikey. She had never left him before and although she trusted Bradley, would he really know what to do if Mikey started crying?
She jogged across the street, opened the wrought-iron gate and hurried to the front porch. The door opened for her again and she stepped inside. Inside the house was not lit and only the light from the streetlights outside cast some illumination into the house. Maybelle appeared before her, her spirit less visible in the partial darkness.
“I’m so glad you’ve come back,” Maybelle said.
“I wanted to tell you what we’ve done so far,” Mary said. “And perhaps get one of the files, so I could start working on it.”
Maybelle nodded. "Of course," she said. "I brought a file downstairs, so you wouldn't have to go up to the attic in the dark."
“Thank you,” Mary replied, turning to go into the front parlor of the house, directly on her right.
"Oh, no, you don't want to go in there," Maybelle said, stopping her. "Let's go into the dining room; it's much more comfortable."
With a shrug, Mary followed Maybelle down the hall and into the large dining room. There was an antique oak table in the middle of the room, with upholstered chairs all around it. Maybelle ran her hand lovingly across the top of the table. “My mother and I spent many nights sitting at this table with tea and cookies, chatting about our days,” she said. “I didn’t realize how unhappy she was until much later in life, after she was gone.”
“Do you think she knew about your father’s dealings?” Mary asked.
Maybelle shook her head. "No, my mother was of the era when women didn't ask those kinds of questions," she said. "Father gave her a household budget, and she asked no questions."
Maybelle smiled wistfully. “But I think she would be happy to know that I’m trying to set things right,” she said. “She was a kind-hearted person and would always give as much as she could to those less fortunate.”
“That’s probably where you got your empathy for others,” Mary said. “So, she passed on a wonderful legacy.”
With a sad sigh, Maybelle nodded. “If I could have been half as kind as my mother,” she said. “I would have been satisfied with my life.”
“The Maybelle I recall as my neighbor was very kind and sweet,” Mary said. “Don’t sell yourself short.”
Nodding to Mary, Maybelle smiled. “Well, thank you,” she said.
She picked up an old manila file and handed it to Mary. “This is the first family we should work on,” she said.
Mary looked down at the faded writing on the file. “Johnson Family.”
“Any reason wh
y you want this one?” Mary asked.
“No, it just felt like the one I needed to start with,” she replied.
“Well, that’s good enough for me,” Mary said. “By the way, I spoke with a friend, Alex Boettcher, the Stephenson County District Attorney. He’s going to look into keeping your house off the market, so we don’t have to worry about the house being sold out from under us.”
"Oh, my, I didn't even consider that," Maybelle said. "But, my mortgage was paid off, and I have no heirs, why would they consider selling it?"
“Perhaps for the taxes that are due?” Mary asked.
“You would think my estate would have taken care of those,” Maybelle said.
“I’m not an expert, but I wonder if they have to be specifically instructed to do that,” Mary said. “They can’t use your funds unless you gave them permission to do so.”
“Well, common sense would tell them to pay the taxes,” Maybelle huffed.
Mary grinned. “But common sense and the law are often not compatible.”
Maybelle chuckled. “That’s very true,” she agreed. “Well, you go ahead and take that file to get started on our project. I’ll be eager to hear what you’ve learned.”
“Thank you, Maybelle,” Mary said. “I’m excited about helping you do this. I feel like a fairy godmother.”
“Well, you will be,” Maybelle agreed. “You will be changing their lives.”
Chapter Nine
“Well, girlie, what you got yourself into this time?” Stanley asked, as Rosie helped him into Mary’s house. “I thought you said you was taking a vacation from all this ghostie stuff.”
He settled into a chair in the living room and folded his arms across his chest, sending her a stern look. “You got more important things to do,” he continued. “Like taking care of this here grandson of mine.”
Mary scooped up Mikey and walked over to Stanley. “Would you like to hold him?” she asked.
The old man’s frown melted immediately, and his face softened as he looked down at the sleeping infant. “Sure, I don’t mind,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. He reached out and cuddled the baby against him, staring down at the delicate face. “He’s an angel, no doubt.”
Rosie sat next to her husband and nodded. “Yes, he is,” she agreed, running a finger lightly across his downy cheek. “And such a good baby.” She looked up at Mary. “Does he sleep like this all the time?”
Sitting down across from them, Mary thought about the three hours of sleep she’d had the night before and smiled. “Yes, he does,” she fibbed. “He’s just about perfect.”
Rosie studied Mary and then laughed softly. “So, he’s sleeping during the day and keeping you up all night, is he?” she asked.
Mary stared, wide-eyed at Rosie. “How did you know?”
“Any baby who is sleeping this soundly at nine in the morning had a very busy night,” she replied. “He just has his days and nights reversed. Try keeping him up a little in the evening, then you both might sleep better.”
Mary nodded. “I’ll try it,” she said. “Especially since I have Clarissa and Bradley to help.”
“How does Clarissa like her brother?” Rosie asked.
“She is in love with him,” Mary said with a satisfied sigh. “She is the best big sister in the world.”
“Wait until he gets a little older and starts getting into her stuff,” Stanley chuckled. “Then she’ll be singing a different tune.”
“Shhh, Stanley,” Mary reprimanded gently. “I don’t want you to burst my bubble of the perfect family.”
Stanley looked up and met Mary’s eyes. “And does the perfect family include you risking your life fer your ghost friends again?”
“I’m not risking my life,” Mary replied. “I’m just helping a friend.”
“A dead friend,” he said. “Hanging out with dead folks ain’t good fer you. Didn’t your mother ever tell you that?”
Mary bit back a smile and shook her head. “No,” she replied. “No, I can’t remember that ever coming up in a conversation.”
Stanley glared at her. “You ain’t taking me seriously,” he said. “I’m only looking out fer what’s best fer you and little Mikey, here.”
Nodding, Mary met Stanley’s eyes. “I know you are,” she said. “And I don’t mean to make light of this situation. But let me explain it to you before you get too upset.”
“I’m listening,” he replied.
“But he’s not happy about it,” Rosie added with a chuckle. “Go ahead, dear, tell us about your new dead friend.”
"Her name is Maybelle Finders, and she used to live across the street from me," Mary began.
“Maybelle?” Stanley asked. “I knew Maybelle. A fine and generous lady. Why in the world would she need to be a ghost?”
“About a year before she died, she discovered some old files that belonged to her father,” Mary explained. “Files that were quite incriminating.”
“Old Aloysius Finders?” Stanley asked. “That goldarn skinflint. What did he do?”
“You knew him?” Mary asked.
Stanley shrugged. “He used to come into the store when I was just a pup,” he said. “Wheedled down the price of anything he could and then wouldn’t pay his bill until it was at least sixty days past due. I never could understand how such an ornery man could have such a lovely daughter.”
“It sounds like her mother was a saint,” Mary said.
Rosie nodded. “I heard that she was wonderful,” she agreed. “And died far too young.”
“I heard he didn’t want to spend the money on a doctor,” Stanley said. “So, she suffered afore she died.” He shook his head and then looked at Mary. “So, what did he do?”
“He stole money from his investors,” Mary replied. “Lots of money. And then he blamed it on the stock market crash.”
"Sounds like him," Stanley agreed. "So, what can you do about that now? He can't be arrested, and even if you ruin his name, it's not like anyone liked him anyhow.”
“Maybelle wants me to help her return the money to the descendants of the people he stole it from,” she said. “That’s all.”
“The money is still there?” Rosie asked.
Mary nodded. “Yes, he reinvested it and made quite a bit,” she said. “So, all I have to do is find the rightful heirs and somehow get the money to them.”
“Somehow?” Stanley asked suspiciously. “How come that somehow don’t sound so good?”
“Because we need to make sure the money is given anonymously, so people don’t try to go after more than they’re owed and to make sure the house isn’t broken into and vandalized,” Mary replied.
“But Mary, why would they vandalize the house?” Rosie asked.
Mary took a deep breath and then looked at both of her friends. "Because there are gold bars stored in the house," she explained. "Gold bars we get to give away."
Chapter Ten
Mabel and Elmer Johnson were being very elusive. Mary had found them both listed in the 1940 Census Record in Stephenson County. They had been living in the city of Freeport, in a boarding house, instead of on the farm they owned when they initially invested their money with Maybelle’s father. But the census didn’t show any children living with them, and she couldn't find anything about them after the census.
Mary sat back in the dining room chair and sighed.
“Tough going?” Bradley asked from across the room.
“If they didn’t have children, how do I find heirs?” she asked, pushing her hair back from her face. “This is a lot harder than I thought.”
Bradley got up and walked over to her, putting his hands on her shoulders and massaging them gently as he peered over her shoulder onto the computer screen. She closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure. “That feels amazing,” she said. “You’re distracting me.”
He smiled down at her. “You’ve been at this all night,” he replied. “You need some distraction.”
She sighed.
“It was so much easier when I was just tracking down murderers,” she said.
“Excuse me?” Bradley asked.
Giggling, she shook her head. “Okay, not easier,” she said. “Just a little more direct.”
He pulled up a chair and sat next to her. “So, this was the 1940 Census, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, Freeport had a munitions factory at the edge of town,” he said. “The economy was still pretty shaky. If they were both working at the munitions factory, their children could have been living someplace else.”
Mary’s jaw dropped. “Okay, that’s brilliant,” she said. “How do I find out who their relatives are?”
“Well, unfortunately, the census records are by address, not by family name,” he said. “But you have an approximate age of both of them, so you could look for birth certificates and find out who their parents were.”
“And then find out if they had brothers and sisters,” Mary said, getting excited. “Okay. Yes, I can do that.”
“And because genealogy is such a big thing now,” he added. “Someone might have already done that work for you. Have you checked out any of the online genealogy search engines?”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
She quickly searched genealogy sites, and the first site was one called Familysearch.org. "This one is free," she said, as she clicked on the link.
"Free is a good place to start," Bradley said. "Why don't you search for Mabel?"
Mary put in Mabel’s information and pressed the search button, in a matter of moments a page filled with Mabel Johnsons appeared before her.
“This is incredible,” she said. “Now all I have to do is find Elmer.”
“And then find their children and their grandchildren,” Bradley added.
She glanced over at him. “You just had to step on my joy, didn’t you?” she teased.
He leaned over and kissed her. “Hey, Sherlock, you’re a lot closer to finding them than you were a few minutes ago,” he said.
“You’re right,” she said and then she turned back to the screen. “Come on, Elmer. I know you’re in here.”
Bradley stood up and moved his chair back in place. “How about some brain food?” he asked.
