The Guests on South Battery

by Karen White

  I pushed open the front door, pausing at the contraption in front of me. It looked like one of those double jogging strollers that I saw young, fit, and perky mothers running behind down Charleston’s neighborhood streets, their jaunty ponytails bouncing happily through holes in baseball caps. I wondered if the client my mother was meeting with had brought it, because I couldn’t think of any other reason why it would be sitting in my parents’ foyer.

  “Mellie? Is that you?”

  “Yes, Mother,” I said as I made my way to the drawing room. I paused in the threshold for a moment, admiring the play of sunlight through the stained glass window. There was a secret message hidden inside, a mystery that Jack and I had solved, with my mother’s help. She’d thought then that the two of us could go public with our abilities, that it was our duty to help others. I was still waiting to be convinced that it wouldn’t destroy my career or my reputation.

  “Come here,” she said, beckoning me to a mahogany game table where it was rumored Lafayette had once played cards. She sat opposite a red-haired woman who appeared to be around my age, the dark circles under her eyes making her seem older. My mother’s gloves had been removed and were folded neatly on the side of the table, leaving no doubt that she’d been doing a reading.

  “Good morning,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then nodded at her companion. “We’re late for our walk, and I have an appointment to show a condo on East Bay at ten.”

  “Sit down, Mellie. We’re just about done here.”

  I did as I was told, then looked at her with raised eyebrows.

  “Veronica, this is my daughter, Melanie Trenholm. Melanie, this is Veronica Farrell. I believe you’ve met her daughter.”

  I stared at her with confusion, trying to place the name and the face. “I’m sorry . . .”

  “My daughter is Lindsey. She’s a friend of your stepdaughter, Nola, and they’re in the same year at Ashley Hall.”

  “Oh, yes. Of course,” I said, recalling the girl Nola had brought home. The girl with the Ouija board. There was something else about Lindsey that I had meant to remember but had forgotten. I wish I’d thought to weigh my brain before and after childbirth so I’d have proof that one loses a substantial amount of brain matter with each child.

  A small smile lifted her lips and brought a lightness to her pale face. “And I know you from USC. We were in an art history class and worked on a project together.”

  That was it. I wanted to smack myself on the forehead. “Oh, yes. Lindsey mentioned that to me. I’m afraid that I don’t remember much about my college years. I think I’ve deliberately tried to repress those memories so I won’t remember how lonely and socially awkward I was.”

  She smiled fully now and I saw the resemblance she had to her daughter, despite their different coloring, their delicate, almost fragile bones, their high cheekbones and straight eyebrows. “Patrician” is the word I would have used. I did remember her now, albeit vaguely, and remembered why I’d probably dismissed her from my thoughts as soon as we received our grade on our project. She’d been one of those girls inordinately close with her family. Her mother or sister always called when we were working together, and instead of letting the phone ring she’d answer it, then spend precious work time recounting whatever it had been that had occupied their conversation. I’d found it tedious, although now I could probably admit that in my lonely, parentless state I’d been jealous.

  “We got an A if I remember correctly,” I said with a smile, as if that might make up for a semester of being dismissive and aloof.

  “We did. And well-deserved. You were so committed to getting good grades and it really got me involved. I remember you were very organized, and that was a good influence for me. I think that semester was my highest GPA of my entire college career.” Her smile faltered. “My sister visited me while we were working on it. She was staying in my dorm room, trying to decide between USC and the College of Charleston. You met her.”

  It seemed important to Veronica that I remember. I frowned, trying to sort through my memories like sifting flour and seeing what got stuck. But nothing did. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember. Although I do recall that you were close—talking on the phone a lot. Are you still close?”

  A shadow fell over her face and I could hear her swallow. I became aware of the scent of a perfume that seemed oddly familiar. The only thing I was sure of was that neither one of my companions was wearing it or I’d have noticed it earlier. I watched as a halo of light appeared and surrounded Veronica, the scent of the odd perfume even more pronounced as the light undulated behind her. My eyes moved to the gilded mirror above a sideboard across the room, revealing the reflection of a young woman in her late teens or early twenties, her hand on Veronica’s shoulder, her black-eyed gaze staring directly back at me. I felt relief first—relief that I could still see spirits. And then surprise that whoever this was had been waiting for me.

  “She died,” Veronica said flatly, as if she was used to keeping the emotion out of her voice when speaking about her sister. “She was murdered her freshman year at the College of Charleston. They never found out who did it.”

  The light behind her brightened to a clear white, then vanished along with the scent of perfume.

  “That’s why Veronica came to see me this morning,” my mother said gently. “Detective Riley gave her my name and phone number with my permission, hoping that I might be able to help.”

  I stood to leave. “Since you’re obviously not done, I think I’ll go walking by myself this morning.”

  My mother put her bare hand on my arm. “Stay, Mellie. I wouldn’t normally ask you to get involved with one of my clients, but because you already have a connection with Veronica, and have met her sister, Adrienne, I think you can help.”

  I gave my mother a look that I hoped she interpreted as “wait until I get you alone” and resumed my seat. “I’m not sure how I can help. . . .” I got a whiff of the perfume again, recognizing it as the one I wore in college. Vanilla Musk by Coty. It was very popular in the late nineties when Adrienne would have been a freshman.

  My mother turned back to Veronica. “You said you had something to show me, something that had belonged to your sister.”

  Veronica nodded once, then reached into the pocket of her skirt and pulled out a long gold chain with some sort of pendant dangling from it. I bent closer and saw that it had been broken in the middle, the clasp still closed. It was then that I remembered my conversation with Thomas when he’d asked me if I could help him with a cold case. Something about a broken chain found in the dead sister’s trunk, discovered in the parents’ attic and opened for the first time since the girl had been killed.

  I held out my hand and watched as the gold links coiled into my palm like a snake, the broken pendant lying on top. One Greek letter sat at the apex, the second two letters dangling directly beneath lying horizontally, a manufactured jagged tear showing where a matching charm might attach. “I wasn’t in a sorority, so I’m afraid this is Greek to me.” I hadn’t meant it as a joke, but my mother kicked me under the table anyway.

  “It’s the intersection of Adrienne’s sorority, Omega Chi, and another Greek organization with the letter Omega. Could be a sorority or fraternity—without the rest of the charm, we can’t be sure. I have no idea where the other half might be.”

  “Did her boyfriend’s fraternity have an Omega in it?” I asked.

  “No. She was dating a Kappa Sig, but he had an ironclad alibi and was never considered a suspect.” Veronica cleared her throat. “This is newly discovered evidence. Sadly, it was all twenty years ago, so people have moved on, gotten married, forgotten about Adrienne. Even with this pendant pointing to something completely new, Detective Riley doesn’t hold out any hope of solving the case. He’s been attempting to find and interview sorority and fraternity members from organizations with Omegas in the names from 1996
, but nobody remembers Adrienne.”

  I turned to my mother. “Thomas told me about this case, and I explained that I wasn’t ready to do this.”

  I dropped the necklace onto the surface of the table with a solid and final thunk. The girl was still there. I couldn’t see her in the mirror, but I felt her presence. Smelled her perfume. I shoved the necklace away from me, not wanting her to follow me home. “I’m sorry, Veronica. I truly am. I’d like to help you, I would. But I’ve got two babies at home, a career I’m trying to resurrect, a hole in my backyard, rotting windows, and a host of other issues I’m having to deal with right now. I’m afraid I just can’t get involved—”

  My mother reached out with her bare hand and grabbed the necklace, her elegant fingers folding around it as her head jerked back and her eyes closed. We were completely still for a long moment, and then her head began to shake back and forth as if to say no. And then, as if pulled from the ether, a man’s voice came from my mother’s throat, thrust from the depths along with the stench of mold.

  “Don’t!” the voice screamed. “You. Don’t. Want. To. Know. The. Truth.” Spit foamed on my mother’s lips, flecks of dirt appearing on her chin.

  Veronica stood so fast her chair toppled backward onto the floor with a bang.

  I reached over and grabbed the chain from Ginette’s hand, and a small fizz of air left her lungs as her head slumped to the table. I stood, breathing heavily as if I’d been the one communicating with whoever or whatever that had been. “You should go,” I said to Veronica. “We can’t help you.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, picking up her chair and sliding the chain and pendant into her pocket. “I’m so sorry.”

  I heard her footsteps heading toward the foyer and then the front door opening and closing as I bent to my mother to check her breathing. Her pulse was steady, but she felt clammy to the touch. I helped her stand, then led her to the couch to lie down. Her eyes remained closed as I sat next to her, listening to her breathe, her hand in mine.

  “She needs us,” she said finally.

  “Her sister has been dead for twenty years and we can’t bring her back. And if you do that again, it just might kill you.”

  We heard my father come in and I quickly helped my mother to a sitting position. He stuck his head in the room. “I thought you were going for your walk.”

  “I think Mother might be a little under the weather,” I began.

  “We were just leaving,” she said with a smile as she pulled herself up from the couch.

  “Really, Mother, I think you should stay home if you’re not well.”

  “Not at all. I think a walk in this beautiful weather is just what I need right now.”

  She gave my father a slow kiss on the lips, making me look away, then headed toward the foyer, where she paused in front of the contraption I’d spotted earlier. “Sophie said you should have one of these—she uses one to run with Blue Skye and loves it. So I bought one for you as a sort of early birthday gift.”

  “I don’t run,” I said, eager to return to our previous conversation.

  “I know, but it might be something you’ll enjoy doing with the children. Especially during the nice spring weather before it gets too hot.”

  I frowned dubiously at the contraption on wheels. “I really don’t think I need—”

  She threw open the front door and stepped outside, and I followed. She breathed in deeply and I was grateful to see the color returning to her cheeks. “Nothing like fresh air to clear the mind.”

  “Mother,” I started, but she had begun walking down Legare. She moved at a slower pace than usual, but she quickly found her strength and began pumping with her arms, making it hard for me to keep up. We walked in the middle of one-way streets to avoid twisting ankles on the uneven and ancient sidewalks, facing traffic so we’d know when to get out of the way.

  “You said you needed my help with something,” she said with no apparent effort to force out the words.

  I was puffing beside her and had to run a little to catch up. “It’s the weirdest thing, really. There’s a presence in Jayne’s house—probably two. Did you ever feel something when you visited Button?”

  She shook her head. “No. Just the usual vague sense that we weren’t alone, but no more than in any other old house in Charleston.”

  I frowned. “Well, the thing is, I can feel two strong presences, and both have tried to communicate with me, but every time I’m there, something blocks me from seeing anything.”

  “Blocks you?”

  I nodded, glad for the extra moment to suck air into my lungs. “Like a blackout curtain. I’ve never had that happen before. I was thinking that maybe it was the pregnancy and childbirth, and that I’d lost my abilities along with my entire wardrobe and shoes.”

  She sent me a sidelong glance. “Mrs. Houlihan is still shrinking your clothes?”

  I kept my chin pointed forward. “It’s still under investigation. Anyway, despite that disaster in your drawing room, I found it almost reassuring that I could see Veronica’s sister.”

  Ginette stopped. “You saw Adrienne?”

  I nodded, and tried to catch my breath. “Yes. I felt her, and smelled her perfume. And then I saw her reflection in the mirror. She had her hand on Veronica’s shoulder.” I put my hands on my knees for a moment and looked up at my mother. “That means I can still see dead people, right?”

  She nodded. “It would seem so. Have there been any other times when you couldn’t see anything but felt the presence of spirits?”

  I thought for a moment. “Yes—in Nola’s room. Veronica’s daughter, Lindsey, brought over a Ouija board and they were playing with it.”

  Her eyebrows shot up in horror.

  “Don’t worry—we told them it wasn’t a game and not to play with it anymore. But something happened before I got there, and there was definitely something in the room—something that might have come from the cistern in the backyard. I knew it was there, but couldn’t see a thing.”

  “That is odd,” she said. We resumed walking. “But you saw Adrienne clearly, with nothing blocking you?”

  I nodded. “It’s not that I ever asked for this ‘gift,’ but I kind of miss it when it’s not there.” I felt my mother send me another sidelong glance but I ignored her. “Anyway, that’s why I need your help. These two spirits seem to be pretty strong—one pushed her down the stairs and the other caught her.”

  “Did you explain to Jayne what had happened?”

  “Of course not. I want her to trust me to handle the sale of her house when the time comes. Making her think I’m crazy by confiding in her that I see ghosts isn’t a good way to foster confidence. And she seemed to just brush it off as her clumsiness in falling and her luck in not getting more seriously hurt. I mentioned that to Jack, and he thinks her years of trying to fit in with various foster families have sort of forced her to overlook anything out of the ordinary. Which is a good thing, since she’s living with us.”

  Ginette was silent for a moment, thinking. “And you want me to go inside the house with you to see what I can discover since you can’t see it?”

  “Correct. I can’t in good conscience sell a house with a violent ghost or encourage Jayne to live there without getting rid of it first.”

  We reached Gibbes Street and crossed it, walking toward South Battery. “We’re not far from the house. I’m not going to ask you to touch anything, but just give me a sense of what you might be feeling.”

  My mother’s face was filled with concern. “Do we need to stop?”

  “Why?” I puffed.

  “Because your face is dark red as if you’ve just run a marathon instead of walked a few blocks, and you’re panting like General Lee when I take him for walks in the heat of summer.”

  I frowned at her but was saved from saying anything when I realized that we were st
anding in front of Jayne’s house. I hadn’t planned on it, but my feet seemed to have brought us here without consulting me. A truck from Hard Rock Foundations was parked outside, and a Dumpster sat in the driveway partially filled with debris, with the nineteen sixties–era kitchen appliances sitting next to it as if huddling to discuss their escape. Perched on the lip of the Dumpster was the black cat, its tail swishing slowly back and forth while its one good eye stared directly back at us.

  “How did that fat cat get up there?” Ginette asked.

  “I have no idea. And I don’t know who’s feeding it or how it gets into the house, but every time I’m here, there it is. I haven’t been able to get close enough to catch it to see if it has a collar, but if I do and I find out it belonged to Button, then I’ll have to figure something out. Jayne’s allergic to cats.”

  “Poor thing,” my mother said softly. “Button was such an animal person. She once said that the more she got to know people, the more she liked her dogs and cats.”

  I thought of Marc and Rebecca, and their invitation to rub Jack’s defeat in his face. “And sometimes I’d have to agree.” I turned back to my mother. “While we’re here, we might as well go in. You ready?”

  She looked back with a soft smile on her face. “I couldn’t do it today, not with what I just went through. I need at least a week to regain my psychic strength. Besides, I don’t think I agreed to help you.”

  “What do you mean? We work well together—remember that ‘together we are stronger’ mantra you make me say again and again?”

  “I do. That’s why I asked for your help with Veronica. Because we are stronger together.”

  I focused on the cat, as if it might put the words in my mouth that I needed. “Mother, whatever spirit came through you this morning is not a nice one and I’d be happy if I never heard from it again. I’m only involved with this one because of a real estate client. I didn’t go seeking it out.”