The Stars that Fell

by M. L. Bullock

  With a growing numbness, I sat in the smaller, colder waiting room. There were only a couple of people there. I stared absently at the muted television and waited for TD to return. He came back looking somber—it had been a long time since I’d seen him smile.

  “I was supposed to meet her this morning. She said her friend was sick—she was going to check on her and then meet me afterwards. I can’t believe this.” His head was in his hands, his shoulders slumped. “I’ve been such a jackass,” his voice broke in a sob.

  I must have been the sick friend she was referring to. Still, that didn’t explain why Detra Ann was in my house with a loaded gun. I knew I had locked that front door, but the hallway was full of leaves again. I wonder if…I can’t figure this out right now!

  “I’m listening.” I put a hand on his back as he cried. This was what he needed—he needed to talk. “It’s okay—Detra Ann is strong. She’ll survive this.”

  After a few minutes, he stopped crying, and a kind nurse stopped by with a bottle of water and some tissues. “Anything yet?” he asked. “The patient is Detra Ann Dowd.”

  “No sir. She’s still in surgery, but the doctor will come right out when he’s finished. If y’all need anything, I’m right outside.”

  “Thank you.”

  “TD, I know this is none of my business, and you can tell me to shut up if you like, but what happened? With you and Detra Ann? She’s just crazy about you.”

  “She didn’t tell you?” I could see the shame in his brown eyes.

  “Well, I heard a little, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  “I really don’t want to talk about it.”

  “We don’t have to. I’m sorry I asked.”

  Leaning back in the plastic chair, he sighed. “No, I said I wasn’t going to do that anymore. I’m facing my demons. I promised Detra Ann that I had changed. I can’t drink away what I saw—what I know I saw.” He rubbed his eyes and looked at me. “For a long time I hated you and Ashland—you know, for that night. It was like from that night forward everything went wrong, and I do mean everything. I couldn’t focus—tools came up missing—I even got robbed. I lost jobs—I think I lost my mind for a while—a long while.”

  “I’m truly sorry, TD. I never meant for any of that to happen. I guess I—we didn’t count the costs before we went looking for Calpurnia and the treasure. I really am sorry.”

  “I believe you. I meant to tell Detra Ann something today, but I guess it’s not her I’m meant to tell. It’s you.”

  I turned sideways in the chair, my arm on the back, my hand under my chin. “What is it?”

  “When I was in high school, my sophomore year, I was in a car accident on I-65. I’d been dating this girl—Ashley Dubose was her name. Sweet girl. We hadn’t been dating long, but I was crazy about her. You know, like you are in the tenth grade. One Friday night, we drove downtown to the Saenger Theater to see Gone with the Wind, her favorite film. She lived in Theodore, so after the film I took the interstate to get her home faster. Her dad was strict about her curfew, but I didn’t mind. I liked her a lot. Everything was great. She was chattering on about Scarlett O’Hara—I was half listening when she kissed my cheek to thank me for taking her. I half-turned to kiss her and took my eyes off the road for only a second. That split second changed everything.”

  “What happened?”

  “A truck sideswiped us and we went spinning. Ashley died. I walked away from the accident with just a scratch on my arm.”

  “I’m sorry. That must have been so difficult to process.”

  “It was, but it only got worse. For the next six months, I saw Ashley everywhere I went. Not like a face in a crowd or someone that looked like her. It was her, bleeding, with her empty eyes that stared through me—just like she looked in the car, you know, afterwards. I felt like a crazy person. Imagine sitting in economics class and your dead girlfriend is standing in the corner of the room. Only no one else can see her—just you. Just staring and bleeding. It happened every day for months.”

  “That sounds horrible. How did you cope?”

  “My parents tried every way they could to help me. They’re nice people. Medication, grief counseling, therapy—nothing worked. Finally, one afternoon my grandmother picked me up. It had been a rough weekend—it had gotten so bad I didn’t want to leave the house. Not even for school. Anyway, Granny Kaye came over one day—she knew all about what I’d been going through. She didn’t tell me where we were going or anything. We pulled into the parking lot of Valhalla Cemetery, and she grabbed my hands and started praying for me. When she was done, she handed me a note card and a pen. She told me to write Ashley a note. I thought that was a crazy idea, but she was adamant. I wrote five words: I’m sorry. I loved you. We took the card and some flowers to Ashley’s grave.” He took a deep breath and continued, “She told me to read it out loud, and I did. I cried the whole time, but I read it. I left the card and the flowers on the grave, and I didn’t see Ashley ever again after that. Granny and I never talked about it for the rest of her life, but I will always be grateful for what she did.”

  “Wow, that is incredible. It must have been so terrifying to see her over and over again like that. I’m glad you had some resolution, though.”

  “I did until that night in the Moonlight Garden.”

  “Oh my gosh! You mean she came back?”

  “No, it was the other one that I saw, the one that was reaching out for Ashland. Isla, I think her name was.”

  I shivered and nodded. “You saw her? Where?”

  “Everywhere. And worse. Sometimes…”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Sometimes I’d wake up and she’d be on top of me. I’d scream, and she would disappear. I think I scared Detra Ann to death. She thought I was having nightmares, but they weren’t like nightmares. CJ—they were real. She visited me, and I didn’t want her to. She was really there, just like Ashley. Only I could smell her, feel her…even taste her. And when I fought her, she would change and I would be kissing a dead thing. I wanted to die. My soul was dying. Anyway, that’s when I started drinking. I thought if I was drunk I wouldn’t see her. It worked for a little while.”

  “I am so sorry. I had no idea that you were going through that.” Impulsively, I put my arms around his neck and hugged him.

  “The problem is I am still going through it, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us? We’re your friends, TD. We care about you. Ashland and I would never let you fight her by yourself.”

  “What does she want? I don’t have Granny Kaye in my corner this time, unless you believe in heaven and such. I know she did. She was a praying woman, and I’ve never been much for faith and prayer. Detra Ann tried to help me, just like Granny Kaye, but she couldn’t. She didn’t know what to do, and she has no idea about Ashley…” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Or that Isla is lurking around. I can’t blame her for dumping me. I am a mess! I don’t blame her, and I don’t blame you, Carrie Jo.”

  “Now I know, and together we can fight her. We will figure out why this is happening! Believe it or not, I think I’ve seen her too.” I admitted to TD something I hadn’t been ready to tell my own husband. What am I doing? “I think she’s been at my house.”

  His brown eyes widened in surprise. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I found this package in my house. It’s Mia’s handwriting. It was in my house for a month, and there is no way that Ashland or I would have missed it. Isla made sure I found it. I guess it was her. Something did, anyway.” I chewed on my lip remembering the shadow that sailed past my door. “I opened the envelope, and inside was a small book—a collection of biographies, but the main story was about an actress named Delilah Iverson.”

  “I’ve never heard of her.”

  “Me either. I haven’t finished reading it yet, so I’m not sure how it fits in. That’s the kind of thing Isla would do. Death hasn’t slowed her down. But besides that unexpecte
d package, I keep seeing someone move out of the corner of my eye. If I am alone in my house, she sails past my door and I hear her giggle. It’s bone-chilling.” I shivered with the memory.

  “I know that feeling,” he said. “Yes, it is.”

  “She’s been leaving my front door open and scattering leaves everywhere too. I don’t know what to do about her. When Ashland comes home, I guess we’ll all be having a ‘come to Jesus meeting’ because she is affecting us all. And there’s more…”

  Before I could tell him what I knew about Hoyt and Christine, we were interrupted.

  “Isn’t this cozy? So happy that you two found my daughter’s surgery so unimportant that you can’t behave respectably.”

  “What?” TD and I stared at Cynthia Dowd in surprise. She didn’t elaborate on her accusations.

  Ignoring TD, she addressed me coldly, “How are you, Mrs. Stuart? How is your mother? I hear she’s ill.”

  The gossip from the Historical Society luncheon had traveled quickly. Well, what of it? I had nothing to hide, and I wasn’t going to be cowed by my friend’s overbearing mother. Before I could open my mouth to speak, the ginger-haired Detective Simmons joined us. She was dressed in a poorly fitting pantsuit with a gaudy pin at the lapel and wore no makeup except some feeble attempts at mascara and an overabundance of lipstick. She was a sharp contrast to the well-dressed Cynthia with her perfect bob cut, Mary Kay makeup and a trim yellow suit. If the difference in statuses bothered the detective, she didn't show it. As usual she pulled out a notebook and a small pencil.

  “Just the person I was looking for—Mrs. Stuart. May I talk to you for a minute?”

  “Can’t it wait, Detective? I am in the middle of a conversation here.”

  “Suit yourself. We can either talk here or talk down on Government Street in the squad room.” She wasn’t messing about today. It was her way or the highway apparently.

  “Fine, if you’ll excuse me, Mrs. Dowd, TD.” Only TD acknowledged me.

  I followed her down the hall and saw that she was intending to walk out of the hospital. “Where are we going?”

  “To my office. Like I said, we need to talk.”

  “You gave me a choice—I chose to talk to you here. I have no intention of leaving Detra Ann right now. She had an accident, in case you didn’t know.” I didn’t mean to sound snappy, but the abrasive detective had caught me at the wrong moment.

  She turned around and stared at me, her pencil in her hand. “In your house! You think I don’t know what happens on my beat? I know everything. Would you care to tell me how she got shot in your house?”

  “I don’t know exactly, or why she was even there. As far as I knew, she had stayed behind to finish her breakfast at By the Bay Bed and Breakfast. I hadn’t invited her over.”

  “So she just broke in and shot herself?” Simmons said with a smirk.

  “No, not exactly. After I got home, I went upstairs to take a shower. I needed to relax. When I walked out of the bathroom, Detra Ann was walking up my stairs with her gun drawn. She lost her balance, fell backward and down the steps. As she fell, the gun went off. That was it. That’s all I know.”

  “That seems a bit farfetched, don’t you think?”

  “I can’t help that, Detective. It’s the truth.”

  “You say this woman is your friend?”

  “Yes, she is. We’ve been—we’ve been working on a project together. I like her, and I am sure the feeling is mutual. She isn’t dangerous!”

  “You have a hard time keeping friends from killing you, don’t you?”

  “What?” I stared at her incredulously. I knew what she meant. Mia had tried to kill me, so why not Detra Ann? But I knew Detra Ann would never harm me. Even if we weren’t besties, she loved Ashland—I was sure of that.

  “It’s the truth. People you hang around have a nasty way of getting killed, Miss Jardine—I mean, Mrs. Stuart. Now I want you to come downtown to take a test.”

  “What kind of test?”

  “The kind that tests your hands for gunshot residue. That way, we’ll know what happened. It would be a good way to clear your name, ma’am.” She raised an eyebrow and scrutinized me.

  “What’s going on here?” I looked over to see Ashland beside me. I could smell his expensive cologne and felt his warm hand rest gently on my shoulder. “My wife isn’t taking any kind of test unless our lawyer says so. Here’s her card. Now if you’ll excuse us, we have a friend who needs us.”

  I wanted to kiss him for being there, for coming to my rescue, but I had no reason to run. I knew I was innocent—if I could quickly prove it, why wouldn’t I? “Wait, Ashland. I don’t mind taking that test. I never fired that gun. I never touched it. If it will clear me, I will do it.”

  “That’s not necessary, CJ. You don’t have to do it.”

  “No, I want to. If it helps the detective, I don’t mind. May I come down after I see Detra Ann? She’s in surgery right now. I don’t know how long that will be.”

  She nodded begrudgingly. “Sure, that will be fine.” She scribbled something on a piece of notebook paper and handed the note to me. “Present this to the officer at the front desk when you get there. They’ll get you to the place you need to be. Just walk in and take the test. They wipe your hands with a special cloth, and you wait for the results. They’ll know if you fired a gun. If you fired that gun or handled it after it was fired, you will have residue on your hands. If that’s the case, you will be arrested.”

  “Hey…” Ashland started to protest. “She’s cooperating, detective.”

  “No, it’s okay. I haven’t done anything. I didn’t touch that gun! Not before—not afterwards—and sure as heck not during! I will come down soon, Detective. Thank you.”

  “Fine. Since the patient is in surgery, I can’t interview her, but I will send the team to check her hands too. Y’all have a good evening now.”

  We shook our heads as she left. “What is she thinking?” Ashland asked. “That you would try to kill Detra Ann? What kind of theory is she working? If she had bothered to ask, she would know that I sent Detra Ann to the house. She’d called me and told me you were upset.”

  “Really? But why did she have her gun out?”

  “I don’t know. She must have thought something was going on inside—she must have thought you were in danger.”

  I thought about the door standing wide open. How many times had that happened in the past twenty-four hours? And Ashland didn’t even know about it. I decided right then and there that I was going to come clean with him as soon as we were alone. He needed to know that I hadn’t been dreaming, until last night, that I’d been seeing Isla and that TD had seen her too. This wasn’t over—it seemed the house wasn’t through with us yet. But for now, I had to push it aside.

  “I don’t know, but I am so glad you are here. TD is here, and so is Detra Ann’s mother.”

  “Detra Ann told me what you two did. That you stayed at Seven Sisters. Is that why you weren’t answering my calls and why you kept hanging up on me?”

  “I only hung up once, and that was because I couldn’t hear you. I didn’t know you called me.”

  “How is that possible? I called you like six times, Carrie Jo.”

  “I don’t know what to say except I never got a call from you.”

  We walked back in silence toward the surgery waiting room. More and more I believed that something was trying to keep us apart—trying to destroy us all. Oh my God! I am crazy like my mother!

  “When did Mrs. Dowd get here?”

  “Just a few minutes ago. I gather she thinks I am involved in the shooting. She made some snide comment about my mother. I guess she heard about my speech at the society lunch.”

  “I’ve been meaning to talk to you. You know, your family history is your own business. Why did you open yourself up for ridicule like that?”

  “I don’t know. Because they are a bunch of busy bees that love to gossip? I figured they would find out the truth anyw
ay, so why not be straight about it. Holliday Betbeze led the pack on that. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

  “Stop that, Carrie Jo. It’s like you don’t even know me. I never said you embarrassed me. You’ve seen how warped and twisted my family is—haven’t you?”

  “Ashland, I wasn’t raised in your kind of world.” We stopped in the hallway outside the waiting room. “Where I come from, you tell it like it is. There’s no sense in prettying things up. My mother is mentally ill. End of discussion. They kept poking me about her, and I told them. That’s it.”

  He sighed and went in the waiting room. I followed behind him and tried to hide my frustration. We really are in trouble, aren’t we? Well, at least he came. He was here with me. Or maybe he just came to see Detra Ann. No matter, he was here. And that meant the world to me.

  The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Isla was on the move, and she wanted something from TD. I wondered what the trickster had in mind. And I wondered if, once and for all, I could actually defeat her.

  Chapter Eleven

  When we left the hospital a few hours later, Detra Ann was sleeping peacefully. The surgeon said she had been very lucky. The bullet had missed her major organs, and there were no fragments left behind. However, she had to be watched the next twenty-four hours. She had lost a lot of blood and had a history of bad reactions to anesthesia.

  Mrs. Dowd had appeared genuinely happy that Ashland had come to see her. She’d tolerated TD and me, which was fine with both of us. Ashland tried to include us, but Cynthia had made up her mind to hate us, at least for the moment. After a while, none of us spoke. We sat waiting and staring at Detra Ann, who slept through the whole uncomfortable exchange.

  We said our goodbyes, and TD promised to call when she woke up. Ashland still didn’t want me to take the gunshot residue test, but I had to. I was innocent! I wanted to prove them all wrong. The faster I was cleared, the more quickly Simmons would start looking at other scenarios. A dull worry began to creep up within me…what if Isla was responsible? I knew she had been there—the open door and the scattered leaves attested to that. Who would ever believe it? The only person who could tell us what really happened was Detra Ann, and she wasn’t awake yet.