Having him here put a crimp in my plans. I didn’t know how we were going to get away without him knowing about it.
Jackie put popcorn into the popcorn maker and we waited until it started popping before discussing our plans further.
“Maybe he’ll go to sleep early,” said Jackie. “He’s old. Old people don’t stay up very late.”
“It’s a possibility,” I said. “I told Roger that I would be there by midnight. Why don’t we pretend to go to bed at nine. He should be asleep by then.”
“One can only hope.” Jackie popped her head out the kitchen doorway and watched as Father Hillard continued to surf channels. “You text Greg and tell him our plans. We’ll sneak out at 11 and meet him down there by 11:30.”
“Deal.” I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Greg. Urgent. Need to meet you at the Candle Shoppe by 11:30 tonight. Explain later.
He responded, OK.
“Greg says he’ll meet us,” I told Jackie, keeping my voice low so that Father Hillard wouldn’t hear me. I felt a little bad about making these secretive plans when he had promised Detective Shorts that he would keep an eye on us, but I couldn’t ask him to come along.
“So how are we to get out? He’s sleeping on the couch.”
“We’ll pretend to go to bed at around nine and wait for him to fall asleep,” I said. “Once he has, we’ll sneak out. Once we’re out the door, he can’t stop us.”
“Okay.”
My plan sounded simple enough and I couldn’t think of any other way. Besides, he was old, well older, so how late could he stay up anyway? We hurried up with the popcorn and walked into the living room as though everything was normal. He had settled on watching Casablanca and we sat next to him, with the popcorn in the middle and individual bowls for serving. I spent most of the time watching the clock and counting down the minutes until nine.
Chapter 16
“Ow!” hissed Jackie, tripping over a small bag that had not yet made it to the storage area as we tiptoed down the hallway to the door of our apartment.
I shushed her and pointed at the lump on the couch that was Father Hillard. He hadn’t moved. I took two steps into the living room and leaned over, checking the mound on the couch wrapped under a pile of blankets. A soft snore emanated from them and I breathed a sigh of relief. He was still sleeping.
My flashlight fell from my purse, thanks to me forgetting to zip it all the way closed. In a mad dash, I reached for it, fumbling with it as it evaded my grasp and caught it just before it struck the floor. Balancing on one foot, while holding my flashlight, I glanced at Jackie who watched me with a worried expression, cringing from the possibility of my waking up our guest. I placed my other foot on the floor and stuffed the flashlight in my bag, zipping it shut and motioned for Jackie to come forward and we both crept to the door, grabbing our keys. I opened the door, afraid that the hallway’s light might wake Father Hillard, but he never moved from his position on the couch. We slipped into the corridor and I shut the door.
“Glad that’s over,” said Jackie. “I thought for sure that he was going to wake up.”
“Yeah, well, let’s go before he notices we’re gone,” I said.
“It’s a little late for that.”
We froze. Both Jackie and I turned around to find Father Hillard standing behind us with his coat and boots on.
“How did…” began Jackie.
“You two are not as quiet as you might think,” said Father Hillard. “And though I am older; I am not that old.”
Jackie and I looked at our feet in shame.
“I overheard you talking this afternoon.”
“But the blankets on the couch,” said Jackie.
“You are not the first generation to invent sneaking out of the house. Stuffed pillows underneath the blankets may be an old trick, but it works every time. And the snore app on my smartphone proved quite useful.”
“Snore app?” I asked.
“Yes,” said Father Hillard, “I was surprised to find one, but it worked.”
“I guess they do have an app for everything,” commented Jackie.
“Look, I’m not going back in,” I said. “I need to get down to the Candle Shoppe and I promised to meet someone down there.”
“I’m not going to make you stay,” said Father Hillard, “but I am coming with you.”
I started to protest, but he interrupted me.
“It’s not open for negotiation.”
Knowing I would never get out of taking him with us, I agreed to his demands and headed to the stairwell that led to the parking lot.
We piled into his car, which had been built to handle snowy conditions, and drove down to the Candle Shoppe. Greg was already there, waiting for us. He gave me a questioning look when he saw Father Hillard, but I shook my head in a “don’t ask” gesture. The only other person we needed was Roger. I saw no sign of him and started to think that he had chosen not to come when he saw Greg and Father Hillard, but my fears were soon put to rest when he walked up.
“Miss Summers,” he said, his voice low, “who are…”
“They’re friends,” I said. “They’re here to help us search for the film.”
Of course, the one person I really needed was Rachel, but she was nowhere to be found. I led everyone to the door of the Candle Shoppe and opened it with the key that I still had. Once inside, I closed the door and turned on a lamp, while pulling out my phone that had the blueprints Jack had sent me.
“Now what?” asked Greg.
“Well, according to these blueprints, that wall was not originally here, but that one was.”
“You mind explaining what we are looking for?” asked Father Hillard and I was reminded that he had no idea who Roger was, or why we were at the Candle Shoppe in the first place.
I faced him, unsure of how I was going to tell him who Roger was and what I had planned. “Um… this is Roger Croukman. He was…”
“Yes, I know who he is,” said Father Hillard.
“He says that there is proof of his innocence locked away here and we had decided to help him search for it.”
“That was a long time ago,” said Father Hillard. “The odds…”
“I know what the odds are,” said Roger, his voice firm.
“Very well, I will help you as it seems to be the only way to keep an eye on you.”
I checked the blueprints on my phone and had Greg help me look at the wall that matched one of the original structures. As much as I hated doing it, I picked up something heavy and used it to rip a hole open in the wall.
“Mel!” yelled Jackie, surprised by my antics.
“Mr. Stilton can take the repairs out of my paycheck, but I need to know what is in there.”
Greg helped me pull the drywall away and shined a flashlight in there, but we found no cubbies or anything that could have been used to hide a few rolls of film. What I really needed was Rachel and the photographer’s ghost.
“Wish Rachel were here,” I whispered to Greg.
Sometimes I wonder if Rachel is around me all of the time, but chooses to remain unseen, because at that moment, she burst in, saying, “Your wish is my command!”
Father Hillard dropped his flashlight and took two steps back in surprise after watching Rachel materialize in full form with her arms raised. Taking one look at his shocked face, Rachel faded and leaned in close to whisper in my ear. “That guy is staring at me.”
“Probably because he has never really seen a ghost. And I am pretty certain this is the first time one just showed up right in front of him.”
“Oh.” She made herself look more solid and approached the priest. “Hi. I’m Rachel. Mel’s ethereal other half when it comes to solving crime.”
Father Hillard just stared at her, unsure of what to do.
“You know, you’re supposed…” Rachel began to lecture him, but I cut her off.
“Rachel! We need to speak to Gregory, the photographer that used to work here.”
&
nbsp; “Yeah, he’s been a bit difficult to track down., but I’ll get him. Give me a sec.”
“So, that is Rachel?” asked Father Hillard, forcing his voice to remain calm.
“You’ve heard of her?” asked Jackie.
“Detective Shorts had mentioned her from time to time, but I never fully believed him when he said she was…”
“Dead?” said Jackie.
At that moment, Rachel popped in, holding Gregory by the shoulders, dragging him into the room. He flailed his arms against her and almost got free of her grasp, but Rachel seized him by his belt and yanked him forward.
“Now you listen to me,” she said through gritted teeth, “you’re coming in here. No more riddles. No more nonsense. Get you ghostly little behind…”
The photographer broke free of her grasp and vanished. “What? That little…” Rachel disappeared as well, leaving us all standing there with dumbfounded looks on our faces.
They reappeared, locked in a struggle with Rachel trying to pin him down and force him to stay put. “Now, I’m tired of your nonsense!” she yelled at Gregory.
He vanished again.
“Don’t worry,” said Rachel, flipping a strand of hair out of her face. “I’ll get him.” She vanished.
“What is this?” asked Greg. “WWF Raw ghost style?”
I shrugged my shoulders. Like the others, I just stood there and watched as Rachel struggled with the photographer in an effort to get him to talk to us.
They reappeared. Gregory tried to make a break for it, but Rachel must have been ready because she seized him and threw whim against the wall and pinned him down. Not that I can explain how one ghost is able to pin another ghost against a solid wall, but I wasn’t about to ask. I had other things on my mind.
“Don’t you move again,” huffed Rachel, “or I swear I will kick you ethereal butt from here to eternity!”
Gregory stopped and looked at all of us. I glanced at Roger. If he was scared, he never showed it. Perhaps he was so desperate to prove his innocence that he didn’t care if he saw a real ghost. Though, I’m sure he had seen those articles about me by Jillian and perhaps he sought me out because of it, besides Beverly’s insistence.
I glanced over at Father Hillard, who still had a shocked expression on his face, but managed to remain calm; well, calm enough so that he didn’t run from the building screaming bloody murder.
“Gregory,” I said, “I need to know if you remember the night Brianna was murdered?”
“Memories are fickle and can often lead one into a pickle,” replied Gregory.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” said an exasperated Rachel, “will you give her a straight answer?”
“Please,” I tried again, “do you remember that night?”
“I remember thunder and lightning on the prowl,” said Gregory, “a perfect night for murder most fowl.”
“I am going to kill him,” said Rachel.
“He’s already…” began Greg, but one look from Rachel’s murderous face stopped him.
“Gregory…” I began again, but Roger stepped forward and interrupted me.”
“Gregory, do you know me?” He allowed the thin light from the lamp to fall on his aged face as he stared into Gregory’s ghostly eyes. “It’s me, Roger.”
Gregory’s eyes lit up and he took on a more solid form. I’m not sure what happened, but something much have clicked, bringing him into our reality and away from his own. “Roger? You’ve aged.”
“20 years,” said Roger, his voice becoming more calm.
“20… has it been that long?”
“Yes,” said Roger.
The rest of us just watched, though Rachel crossed her arms and pursed her lips.
“Brianna… I’m sorry. I should never have gone out that night, but you know how much I loved photographing lightning.”
“I know.”
“I don’t remember it. I guess a part of me knew, but I didn’t want to believe it and came back here anyway. It’s the only place that ever felt like home.”
“Gregory,” said Roger, “I need to know. Did you bring home the rolls of film?”
“Yes, yes, I always emptied the cameras and packed everything up. All of the film was deposited in the development room, except for three.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, but wished I hadn’t because that seemed to have broken whatever hold on reality Gregory had.
“Three is a most powerful number, and so three were left asunder.”
“He’s fading again,” muttered Jackie.
“Gregory, please,” said Roger. “I need to know what you did with the film.”
“In a wall among flowers,” said Gregory and I knew he had reverted back to his riddles, “there it stays hour upon hour.”
“Gregory,” Roger pressed again, “where is the development room.”
“Dark and deep below, is all you need know.”
Gregory vanished once again, leaving us all alone to wade through his nonsensical information.
“Why that little…” began Rachel, gearing up to go after him again.
“Rachel,” I said, stopping her. “I don’t think going after him is going to solve anything.”
“But, Mel,” said Jackie, “we were so close.”
“I know,” I said, feeling horrible because it was my pushiness that made him leave.
“Let’s look at those blueprints,” said Greg. “Every photo studio has a darkroom for film development. Maybe they will tell us where it was.”
“A cellar,” said Father Hillard.
“What?” said Greg.
We all turned and face the priest.
“You all are not very good with riddles, are you?” said Father Hillard. “‘Deep below’ means underground. All cellars or basements are underground.”
“But there is no record of one having every been here,” I said, looking at the blueprints on my phone.
“That doesn’t mean that it isn’t there,” said Father Hillard. “I’ve lived here a long time and before this place was even a photo studio it was a winery.”
“A what?”
“Did a lot of remodeling, which mostly consisted of tearing down all of the old structures and building a new one: the studio. There could still be a cellar that might have been sealed off when the studio was erected. Of course, since it was always here, it would never have been included in the original blueprints of the photography studio.”
“So how do we find it?” I asked.
“Leave that to me,” said Rachel and she vanished.
“Well, what about the other part,” said Greg. “The ‘among flowers’ bit?”
“The flower shop,” said Jackie. “Is there an original wall in there?”
I checked the blueprints and, yes, there was an original wall in the flower shop next door, but how would we get in there and look around without breaking in? I glanced at Jackie and she knew what I was thinking.
“Mel, I don’t think that is a good idea.”
“What isn’t a good idea?” asked Greg.
“We need to get into the flower store next door,” I said to him.
“No,” Father Hillard said with finality. “I will not be party to breaking the law. Coming here was one thing, since you work here and had the key to get in, but breaking into another store is crossing the line.”
He was right, but that hadn’t stopped me in the past.
“Hey, Mel!”
We all looked around for the voice, which sounded just like Rachel’s.
“Mel, get over here!”
I approached a floor vent. “Rachel?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” said Rachel. “I found the basement, or cellar, whatever you want to call it.”
“How do we get in?”
“That’s the tricky part,” said Rachel. “There seems to be some loose bricks outside that are covering up a small door. If you all could remove them, you might be able to get in. I’ll bang on the door so you can find it.”
“This is Rachel,” I replied. “She likes to make a splash.”
We all rushed outside to the ally and listened for Rachel’s banging. I don’t know how she did it, but she hammered the foundation of the building so hard that I thought she might wake the neighborhood. Greg felt around the brick and found a loose one; the grout had started to decay and crumble from severe weather conditions and normal wear and tear. Greg took out his keys and scraped them against the mortar; it crumbled away in pin-sized pieces before coming off in chunks. A brick popped free. Once he had the one out, it didn’t take him long to get the rest until he revealed an old, rotted door with a hooped handle.
Rachel yanked it open. “Surprise!”
“You know, you could have just pushed the bricks free yourself,” I said.
“Yeah,” replied Rachel with a satisfied grin, “but that wouldn’t have been as much fun.”
We all pushed our way through the narrow opening and into the cellar, scuffing our feet across the rocky, uneven ground that was nothing more than packed dirt. It hadn’t even been covered in floorboards or cement. How long had this been here? And how is it I have been working in the building above it and never knew?
My foot kicked something made of glass. I bent down and picked it up, realizing that it was a chemical used in the development of film. A few abandoned cameras lay scattered across the floor with some pieces of wood leaning against the wall. I guess Gregory had discovered this place and decided to use it as a darkroom. It would work perfectly for developing film.
Brick lined the walls, chipped and grayed from the passage of time, and a small little alcove was nestled deep within the shadows, well away from the small doorway. A draft of air tickled the back of my neck. Looking up, I saw a vent in a piece of ducting that was exposed from a small hole in the ceiling, thus explaining how Rachel had managed to call me. The bottoms of two walls stuck out from the ceiling, hanging about six inches down, but where in the building did they go? Only one person could go into the other stores and investigate: Rachel.
I turned to her. “Rachel, we think that perhaps the wall in flower store might have been hollowed out and used as Gregory’s little storage area.”
Double, Double, Nothing But Trouble (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 10) Page 13
