by Terri Reid
Mary paused for a moment. “If it wouldn’t be a problem,” she said. “I would feel much more comfortable knowing that someone was keeping an eye on Chief Alden’s room.”
“Do you think someone is trying to kill him?” Ashley asked, surprised.
“Well, since we don’t know the cause of the curse,” she replied, “we don’t know what or who we are facing. I think being careful is better.”
Ashley nodded. “Yes, that makes sense,” she said. “Sure, I can watch things here.”
“Thanks, Ashley, I appreciate it.”
Mary took the list and walked out to the parking lot. The officer had returned her keys last night and told her where he had parked her car. She unlocked the door and slipped inside the car, turning it on and praying that it would heat up quickly. While the defroster worked to clear the windshield, Mary pulled out her cell phone. She dialed a number.
“Hello, Rosie, it’s Mary. I’m calling from the hospital. Bradley had some kind of attack last night,” she paused for a moment. “Yes, he’s doing better, but the doctor says that he needs rest and supervision. Do you think you can help?”
Mary smiled as Rosie listed all of the things she was going to bring to get Bradley back on his feet and knew there was no one she would trust more than Rosie.
“Rosie, you’re an angel. Can you meet me at my place in about thirty minutes? Thanks!”
After hanging up with Rosie, Mary dialed another number. “Hello, Linda, it’s Mary. How was your Christmas vacation?”
She paused and listened, a smile growing on her face. “I am so glad it worked out. You and Bob seem like the perfect couple. Listen, I have a favor to ask, but I need this to be kept just between you and me. I need you to pull the Coroner files on some people. I’ll be by this afternoon to pick them up. Do you have a pen? There’s a list of about twelve names. Okay, the first one is Sam Rogers…”
Chapter 20
“Daddy!”
The scream echoed through the house. Angela stormed through the door, tossed her purse on the couch and stomped through the kitchen and down the basement stairs. “Daddy!’ she called out as she half-ran through the basement, “He loves someone else.”
Through tear-filled eyes, she found the key on the post and struggled to put it into the lock, ineffectually wiping her face. Sniffing loudly, she took a deep shuddering breath and threw the ramshackle door open. She blindly reached for the overhead light’s pull-string and snapped it on. Throwing herself to the ground at the feet of the mummified corpse, she put her head in her hands and sobbed.
“He lied to me. He used me. He doesn’t want me. He wants her.”
She turned her face up to look at the eyeless sockets, mascara running down her face in rivulets. “Why did he lie to me, daddy? Why didn’t he want me?”
She placed her head against the leathery knees, poking through the worn khaki pants. “She was the one who did it,” she said, wiping the last of the tears from her face. “He wanted me, but she was the one who did it.”
She smiled. “I can still have him. I just need to take him when she’s not there. Once he’s alone with me, I know he’ll love me better.”
She sighed and closed her eyes, exhausted by her tears. “I’m tired now, Daddy.”
She snuggled closer to the corpse and fell asleep.
The skeletal hand lifted and brown, leathery fingers stroked her hair tenderly. The skull shifted position and looked down on the sleeping woman. Sleep now, baby, Daddy will take care of you.
Chapter 21
“I don’t need a wheelchair,” Bradley grumbled as he was wheeled from his recovery room to the main entrance, where Mary’s Roadster waited.
Mary grinned at the orderly who had the honor of pushing the ill-tempered Chief of Police. “Better behave or the next time you’re here, they’ll use a dull needle.”
“I can walk,” he insisted. “Mary, tell them I can walk.”
She winked at the orderly. “It’s true; I have seen him walk, on occasion. Of course, I have also seen him fall flat on his face on occasion too.”
“You’re not helping matters,” Bradley said.
Mary laughed. “Oh, you wanted me to lie for you? Sorry.”
They approached the door where two of Bradley’s officers waited. Mary knew one of them, Cory Jackson. He was a tall, powerfully built African-American who, despite his intimidating stature, was Officer Friendly at the local schools. Mary decided the other officer must have been a rookie by the tension in his stance and his crisp new uniform.
“Officers Jackson and Killoran, I need your help,” Bradley said. “I’m being taken against my will.”
The rookie looked immediately concerned and started to step forward, but Cory placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. “Seems like a dangerous situation, Chief,” he said. “Miss O’Reilly, what is your intent concerning Chief Alden?”
Mary grinned. “I intend to take him to my house and shower him with care and affection until he’s recovered enough to go back to work.”
“Damn, Chief, that does sound bad,” he said. “You want me to arrest her?”
Bradley looked up at Mary. “Well, rather than arrest her, I suppose I could take it upon myself to rehabilitate her and make her an asset to the community.”
“Chief, you always did take all the hard jobs,” Cory laughed. “Miss O’Reilly, you sure you want to take this guy with you?”
Mary sighed loudly. “It’s a tough job, but someone has to do it.”
Mary turned to the new officer and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Mary O’Reilly; I don’t think we’ve met.”
The rookie blushed and shook her hand with a damp palm. “I’m Tommy, I mean Tom Killoran,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I just started with the force last week.”
“Nice to meet you Tom,” Mary said. “I’m a former Chicago cop and my dad and brothers serve there now, so I have a great deal of admiration for anyone who wears a badge.”
“Wow,” he said. “I mean, thank you ma’am.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, with a smile. “Good to see you, Cory.”
“You too Mary,” Cory replied. “Don’t let the Chief give you too much trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Bradley huffed. “I’m the model of a cooperative patient.”
Cory and Mary rolled their eyes. “Sure you are,” Mary said, pushing Bradley through the open doors and out to the driveway.
A few minutes later, Mary and Bradley were traveling down Stephenson Street towards Mary’s house. “Have you ever heard of a local curse?” she asked him.
“A curse?” he replied. “What kind of curse?”
“Well, according to Ashley Deutsch, there has been a series of unexplained deaths of law enforcement officers throughout Stephenson County and they all start with symptoms similar to yours.”
He shook his head. “No, I’ve never heard of it, and, just for the record, I don’t believe in curses.”
“Good,” she said with determination, “Because I don’t plan on letting you die of one.”
They pulled into her driveway and Mary went around the car to help Bradley out. “I feel like such a wimp,” he said.
“Fatigue is just one of the symptoms of liver problems,” Mary said, helping him across the yard to the front porch.
Rosie met them at the door. “Well, it’s so nice to see you, Bradley,” she said, slowly and clearly. “I’m so happy to be able to help take care of you.”
“Rosie, he has a bad liver, his hearing and his brain are functioning just fine,” Stanley grumbled from behind her.
“Oh, sorry, Stanley, I forgot I was talking to Bradley, not you,” she snapped.
“Listen to me, girlie, you better not take that tone with me. I’m not one of those fancy boys you tote around by their noses,” Stanley said.
“By their noses?” Rosie replied, enraged. “Why Stanley Wagner, I knew you were a number of things, but…”
Bradley turned to Mary. “I don
’t mean to sound ungrateful, but…”
“You’re right, Bradley,” Mary interrupted loudly. “There’s no way you’re going to get any rest here at my place. I’m so sorry I suggested it.”
The room was suddenly silent.
Stanley hung his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I guess I need to apologize. I was just yanking Rosie’s chain and I caused more ruckus than I intended. You come on in, young man; we’ll take good care of you.”
They led him over to the couch and got him settled in. A few moments later, Rosie came in from the kitchen carrying a tray of food. “Here you go, Bradley, a scrambled egg, some lovely fruit and toast.”
“Wow, Rosie, thank you,” he said, “This is wonderful.”
Rosie blushed. “Thank you, Bradley.”
“Ain’t no one can whip up a meal like Rosie,” Stanley said.
“Stanley,” Rosie gasped. “You said something nice.”
His eyebrows rose, “You saying I ain’t nice?”
Chuckling, Rosie bustled over and kissed him on his forehead. He turned beet red. “Now, just stop that, woman,” he said with a slight smile. “You’re embarrassing Bradley.”
Scooping up a spoonful of eggs, Bradley nodded, “Oh, yes, I’m really feeling embarrassed about now.”
“You play checkers?” Stanley asked.
“I don’t just play checkers, I rule at checkers,” Bradley responded.
“We’ll just see, you little whippersnapper.”
“Whippersnapper,” Bradley and Mary said simultaneously, looking at each other.
Mary walked over to Bradley, kissed him on his forehead and said, “I think I’ll go on over to City Hall and see if I can talk to a man about a curse. You take it easy and let Rosie and Stanley pamper you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, adding with a meaningful look. “You be careful out there.”
She nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Walking into the kitchen, she found Rosie stirring a pot of simmering chicken soup. “Wow, this smells great. If I didn’t have so much to do, I’d pretend I was sick, just to get you to take care of me.”
Rosie beamed with delight. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty left when you get done today,” she said. “You have to be sure you take care of yourself, too.”
Mary gave Rosie a hug. “Thanks for being my friend.”
Chapter 22
The drive to the County Building took less than ten minutes. Mary parked her car around the corner and hurried to Linda’s office. Linda Lincoln, a dark-haired, middle-aged woman, was the County Clerk. Mary had learned that Linda could have run the entire county single-handedly, but the entire county could not have run without Linda.
“So, you’re going after the curse,” Linda said, handing a stack of papers to Mary over the counter.
“Why does everyone in this county know about the curse but me?” she asked.
“You probably haven’t been here long enough,” Linda replied. “It started about four years ago. It was fairly random, a police officer from one of the smaller towns, then a fireman, then a sheriff’s deputy, there never seemed to be any connection.”
“But, of course, there is one,” Mary said. “There’s always a connection.”
“Why are you so interested?”
Mary took a deep breath. It’s stupid to get emotional over this, she thought. “Bradley,” she began, and then had to stop to steady her voice. “Bradley’s sick.”
“Oh, no,” Linda gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But, Mary, it’s not the curse. It can’t be the curse.”
“I know, Linda,” Mary said, “because those men died and Bradley is not going to die.”
Linda’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she nodded fervently. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. So, tell me. What can I do to help?”
Pausing for just a moment, Mary looked down at the large pile of papers Linda had just handed to her. “If you’re willing, I could use your help,” she said. “All I need is the name of the person who died, a brief description and the place they died.”
“The funeral home?” Linda asked.
“No, the place they found the body,” Mary said.
Nodding, Linda took the paperwork back. “I’ll call you as soon as I have any information. But, I can tell you that Sam Rogers died in his office, if that helps.”
“That’s right,” Mary said. “Yes, that does help. Thanks.”
Mary started to leave, and then stopped and turned back. “Angela Murray, the Coroner, I thought she was a funeral director, but her office is at the hospital.”
Linda motioned for Mary to come back to the counter and she leaned forward, her voice low. “She had a little funeral home in one of the smaller towns, it didn’t do very well,” she explained. “People here are still pretty traditional. A woman funeral director was hard to get used to, especially a young, pretty woman funeral director. So, she sold the business, got an office next to the morgue at the hospital and runs an Internet business from her home.”
“What does she sell?” Mary asked.
“Herbal things,” Linda replied. “I got some really nice salve that I use for aching joints, it really works well. I also got some herbal concoction to get rid of mice in my house, it’s all natural, but those mice drop like flies.”
“What’s the site called?”
“Magic Hollow Herbs and Potions,” Linda said. “She has a blog that she updates regularly. She’s a bit more supernatural than I like, but her products are good.”
“Does she sell teas?” Mary asked.
Linda smiled. “Yeah, I nearly bought some Love Potion tea last month,” she blushed slightly. “But since you brought Bob and me together, I guess I won’t need it.”
“I guess not,” Mary replied. “Thanks for the extra information. I’m going to head over to City Hall. Call me when you get information on the others.”
“Okay, I’ll start right away.”
Mary drove the few blocks to City Hall to save time. She dashed up the stairs and headed toward the room she and Bradley had met Sam in a few days ago. She placed her hand on the door knob and was about to turn it when she was interrupted. “Hello? Excuse me. Can I help you?” Dorothy called from her desk at the end of the hall.
Mary swallowed a sigh and turned toward the administrative assistant. “Hi Dorothy, I’m Mary O’Reilly, Bradley’s friend,” she said. “I’m helping him investigate a series of deaths in the county and this is one of the places I need to look.”
Dorothy pushed her chair back and hurried down the hall. “I’m sorry, what could possibly be in that room that would help you investigate a number of deaths?” she asked.
Mary paused for a moment and studied Dorothy’s face. What the hell. “The ghost of Sam Rogers.”
Chapter 23
They entered the room together. Mary heard Dorothy locking it securely after them and looked over her shoulder at her.
“We don’t want anyone to disturb us,” Dorothy quickly explained.
Mary shrugged and moved forward into the room, through the narrow corridors toward the far corner. She froze when she heard the click of the gun’s trigger being cocked. Mary slowly turned around and her heart dropped. Dorothy stood at the end of the corridor with a handgun in her hands, pointed at Mary’s heart.
“I’m going to have to kill you,” Dorothy said, her voice trembling.
Crap, she’s nervous, Mary thought. She could accidentally shoot me.
“You know, Dorothy,” Mary said, trying to sound calm though her heart was beating out of control. “I had a similar situation happen to me several years ago. Except the person holding the gun was a doped up gang member.”
“I was on a stake-out with the Chicago Police Department,” she said, “Did you know I was a cop in Chicago?”
Dorothy didn’t move.
“Well, I was a cop, but my dad and brothers are still cops,” she said, as she desperately tried to come up with an
escape plan. “I was a cop until I died.”
She saw the gun waver a little and then saw something else that gave her hope. “Perhaps you didn’t know I died,” she said. “Yeah, this gang member was aiming at my brother. I didn’t have time to warn him, so I just got in the way. I’ve got to tell you, getting shot hurts. It hurts a lot. It’s really something I’d rather not do again.”
She shrugged. “But, I suppose if I hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have been able to come back and talk to ghosts.”
The gun shook slightly.
“It’s really a secret, but seeing that it’s just you, Sam and I in the room, I thought I could let you in on the secret.”
Dorothy shook her head, lowering the gun slightly. “Sam’s not here. You killed him. That’s why you think his ghost is here.”
Mary sighed. “You think I killed Sam,” she said. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought you killed Sam and figured I was catching on to you and wanted to kill me. Okay, so neither of us killed Sam. Good.”
“No, you killed him,” Dorothy said, raising the gun back up.
“Not so good,” Mary said. “Okay, ask me a question that only Sam would know and I’ll ask Sam, he’ll tell me the answer and you’ll know I didn’t kill him.”
“Are you crazy?” she asked.
Mary nearly laughed. “No, really, just give it a try.”
“Okay, ask Sam what our song is,” she said.
Mary looked over to Sam who was standing next to Dorothy, concern written all over his face. “Sam, I really don’t want to die again. Could you please tell me what your song is?”
Sam shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I didn’t know we had a song.”
Mary closed her eyes. She was going to die because Sam was a typical man. Crap.
“Dorothy,” she said. “He didn’t know you had a song. He’s sorry; he doesn’t know your song. Could you please ask another question and not kill me?”
Dorothy lowered the gun slightly. “It’s just like him not to remember,” she said. “It was “Time Goes On.”
Mary looked at Sam, and he shook his head. “Sorry, Dorothy, still nothing from him. But, I know the song - it’s a classic.”
