“You've got your brother, Hampton, right? He seems ultra-smart, and his wife is kinda gorgeous,” Ulan babbled, his eyes brightly glowing. “Although, he was rude the other day.”
“Consider yourself lucky you didn't have to grow up with The Hampster.”
After Ulan departed, I checked on Emma and listened to the answering machine. I hadn't wanted to keep the landline when moving into the cottage, but Nana D reminded me we often lost cell service in the mountains. It would also come in handy when Emma wanted to call friends. I wouldn't buy her a cell phone until she turned thirteen, but she could use the landline whenever necessary.
The last message surprised me: Kellan, this is Belinda Grey. Something has come to my attention, and it's urgent that we speak. Please call me at your earliest convenience. My number is….
What did she want? Given it was after nine o'clock, it was too late to call. I added her number to my cell phone and planned to contact her between tomorrow's classes and Myriam's staff meeting.
After our reading routine, I tucked Baxter and Emma in bed and joined Ulan on the couch. We had ample time to catch the original Halloween movie. I still couldn't believe my uncle had never insisted Ulan watch the cult classic. At several points during the film, I swore I heard footsteps wandering the porch outside the cottage. When Ulan pressed pause for a restroom break, I peered through the front window. Something with a human shape idled in the wooded area, but when I called out, it ran deeper into the trees. I briskly checked the grounds but found no footprints, nor had he or she dropped anything identifiable. Could the Halloween season and the movie be playing tricks on me?
* * *
The kids excitedly rushed off to school the next morning, wearing multiple layers and thick woolen socks because the temperature had dropped overnight. Also, Braxton's Wear Your Favorite Halloween Socks Day had arrived, prompting me to adorn my feet with blood-red Dracula socks. I stopped at The Big Beanery, a coffee-bean shaped café on South Campus where students and college staff shared light meals or devoured a frequently necessary caffeine jolt. Braxton was divided into two separate campuses, North and South, and linked by an old-fashioned cable car system that transported its passengers across a one-mile hilly expanse of quaint pubs, historic homes, and artisanal shops. One of my favorite bespoke stores offered free gingersnaps and apple cider tastings every October afternoon.
I joined the queue behind Lloyd Nickels, the cable car's former lead engineer, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Mr. Nickels. I saw your daughter at the Pick-Me-Up Diner the other day. She put my persnickety brother in his place. Loved it.”
Lloyd had a weathered appearance from spending so much time working outdoors and in cramped spaces. As an electrician and expert on the cable car, he'd saved the day many times, but was developing painful arthritis and breathing issues. “Calliope always was a straightforward gal. A little gossipy too. How's it going, Kellan? Seraphina keeping you in line, I trust.”
“Of course, wouldn't have it any other way,” I affirmed, noticing he'd chosen not to participate in the town's fun and frenetic sock holiday. Nana D and Lloyd had been friends for years. Both had lived their entire lives in Wharton County, frequently boasting how their combined ancestors had plowed every available tract of the area's land. “Bringing your regular order to Mrs. O'Malley?”
Lloyd snickered, blushing and glancing in the opposite direction. “Can't keep a secret in this town, eh?” He and Minnie had been dating for twenty years but refused to marry one another. At nine o'clock every morning, they'd meet for coffee and a pastry on a bench in the north section of Cambridge Lawn. “I'm testing out their new maple-glazed pecan fritters. Sure hope Minnie likes them.”
A student bellowed at the cashier to raise the volume on the corner television. “Hurry. That hottie Lara Bouvier is reporting on the awesome skeleton they dug up at Memorial Library.”
Lloyd and I exchanged perfunctory glances. “It's all over the news this morning. Didn't Minnie tell you?” I cautiously prodded while he collected his order from the barista.
Lloyd frowned and noted Minnie was busy attending to Father Elijah the night before.
A video of Lara chatting with April the previous evening lit up the screen. … and Sheriff Montague has promised an update once her team determines if it's safe to extricate the remains from the shaky ground. Could this be the famous Prudence Grey who went missing fifty years ago on Halloween? Reporting live from Memorial Library at Braxton College, this is Lara Bouvier.
Students cackled and whistled over the latest news from their school. None of them had any idea who Prudence Grey was, yet the grisly thought of a body found on campus excited them beyond belief. I leaned toward Lloyd, who'd blanched as white as a ghost. “It's gonna be a while before they know if it's Prudence. I doubt there's any DNA or evidence left if she's been underground that long. Were you around when she disappeared?”
“I'm late to meet Minnie. Gotta go.” Lloyd grabbed the bag of fritters and rushed out of The Big Beanery faster than any seventy-something I knew. And that was saying a lot, given I'd spent most of my free time surrounded by Nana D and her septuagenarian friends.
“Wait! You forgot your coffee,” I shouted, jogging after him but failing to catch up. He boarded the cable car, which took off before I reached the station. What had caused his hasty exit?
After settling into my Diamond Hall office—fully decked out in Halloween-themed décor—with a spiced latte, I prepared notes for my morning class. Women and Film was a core component of the curriculum and a favorite of my boss. Dr. Myriam Castle was an emphatic feminist and tempered only by her stunning and brilliant wife, also our college's newest president, Ursula Power.
Before leaving the second floor, and since I had five spare minutes, I attempted to contact Belinda Grey. When her secretary at the high school indicated the principal was in an assembly in the auditorium, I left my cell number as the best way to return my call. I dawdled to the first floor and taught my fifty-minute class. Students were unhappy when I returned their project outlines with more suggestions for improvement to their original proposals. Should I have served pumpkin muffins too?
I rode the cable car to North Campus, purchased two sandwiches from the cafeteria, and prepared to meet Maggie. They had built the original library in the early nineteenth century as a two-story schoolhouse, with a hollowed out but unfinished sub-level, on the outskirts of land owned by Braxton College. At the time, it wasn't officially part of the campus. After the Civil War, the Stanton family, who'd controlled much of the county's power, donated a generous amount of money. When the college courageously led the country to approve the admission of women into their student body, the Board of Trustees allocated the Stanton funds to address minor repairs to the existing schoolhouse, build a new wing, and convert the entire structure into the library. By the twentieth century, they had added two more wings to meet the needs of the school's graduate program and law school expansion.
Few changes had occurred until the great fire destroyed the original wing in 1968. The Grey family had become the most prominent board members by that period. They were insistent on immediately leveling out the land, building an ugly modern addition, and renaming it Memorial Library. Maggie had complained about the mismatch of styles in Memorial Library's history, citing the architectural design flaws that kept them from becoming a top-notch facility. Among the three wings and original structure, they'd suffered with hallways that ended nowhere and multiple sets of staircases to transition between sections. The prior librarian, Minnie O'Malley, had found the quirky and unique style of the library and its courtyard fascinating, always acting disinterested when the college discussed major overhauls. It'd taken my father five years to secure the proper funding for the renovation, and even then, Ursula Power had been the one to push the project over the finish line.
“I'm so glad to see you, Kellan. I hardly slept last night.” Dark circles and worry lines accompanied Maggie's eyes as she embraced me,
wearing cute knee-high, orange pumpkin socks embellished with Halloween sayings. “There have been many engineers and inspectors on-site in the last sixteen hours, arguing over the best way to handle the situation.”
“What's the current plan?” I handed Maggie a sandwich, as we settled into her office at the opposite end of the yellow police tape and caution signs surrounding the construction site.
Maggie explained that she would meet with the primary architect, the county's building inspector, and April at two o'clock to decide on next steps. “It is horrible, Kellan. We were the ones who saw the skeleton. Now, I understand how you felt all those times it happened previously. This is the second body we've found in the library. The place must be haunted.”
“It's difficult, I know. At least your dead body is decades old. It's a lot worse when you arrive a few minutes too late to stop the crime from happening.” I pushed away the memories of all five murders I'd been involved with since returning to Braxton. It would qualify as a Guinness Book of World Records entry; Nana D was regrettably correct, as the dashing and dramatic diva always was.
“I doubt this was murder. Have you heard the rumor that it's Prudence Grey?” Maggie nibbled on her bottom lip, then slapped her cheeks to startle herself from the recollection of the skeleton.
“I've heard it a few times. Any details on how long the body's been there?”
“Everyone agrees at least forty years.”
“I'm sorry you're stuck with this catastrophe. Has Connor been around?” Connor, who'd once run security at the college, usually handled any crimes or investigations concerning Braxton.
“Yes, he's meeting with Ursula right now.” Maggie finished her sandwich and threw away our detritus. When she walked with me back to the reception area, she gasped and clutched her stomach.
I traced the path of her sightline to a life-size skeleton sitting on a bale of straw near the check-out desk. It held a witch's cauldron stocked with candy treats and a sign that read: Died from reading too much. I've got a spine to pick with you.
“Get it? Bone to pick with you. A spine is part of a book and a bone.” She exhaled loudly.
“Too funny.” As I hugged Maggie goodbye, she handed me an envelope. “What's this?”
“A photo of Prudence I dug up in a yearbook. There might be more, I'll keep checking.”
“You're awesome, thank you.” Once she left, I exited through the main doors, eager to tear open the envelope. Crisp, chilled autumn air tickled my face and sent a few shivers down my back. Was I about to see a picture of the beauty with two different colored eyes who'd been haunting my house, also the former embodiment of the skeleton we'd found the prior day?
By the time I reached the end of the pathway, my cell rang. I tossed the unopened envelope into my satchel. A group of students wearing hilarious matching socks and hats smirked when I passed them, as the new tone was a creepy wicked witch voice cackling, I'll get you my pretty.
“This is Kellan.” A crow in a nearby tree croaked a terrible, foul death caw.
“Hello. It's Belinda Grey returning your call. Is this a convenient time?” Her haughty voice immediately penetrated my calm exterior and eliminated my laugh about the book and bone message.
“Certainly. Is this about the Memorial Library construction or the Fall Festival project? If it's the library, your problem might be solved, as I doubt there will be any more noise until—”
“Although it's exorbitantly obvious that I should assume control over the Fall Festival, the purpose of my call is about neither topic. Did you receive my letter?”
I recalled no mail from her but could've missed it in the last few days. Managing two residences was getting increasingly tough. “I don't think so. What was it about?”
“Hasn't Ulan shared anything with you?” A strident, accusatory tone accompanied her words.
That began to worry me. “No, he hasn't. What's going on?”
“Perhaps you ought to interrogate him before our meeting tomorrow in my office. If this is how you organize and care for Wharton County's historic autumn spectacular, I can only imagine the imminent disaster.” After repeating the date and time she summoned me to appear, Belinda angrily slammed the receiver onto its cradle. What had Ulan done? Why didn't I receive the letter?
I thought back to the conversation I'd overheard between Augie and Ulan. Was Ulan acting out at school besides painting threatening messages in our new house? I would need to discuss it with him as soon as we got home. I drafted a text, demanding he call me as soon as class ended, but stopped myself. If I gave him a heads-up, he'd have time to prepare excuses. I preferred to catch him with the added element of surprise—just as the phone buzzing in my pocket shocked me at that very moment. Halloween would no longer be my favorite holiday if this constant anxiety kept up.
April: Discovered something interesting about the skeleton and how the victim died. I'll call you tonight.
Kellan: Don't make me wait. I might explode from the suspense. So not cool!
April: Patience is a virtue. It seems I have much to teach you.
Kellan: Now that's a promise I'll make you keep.
Chapter 5
With the phone secured in my pocket, I meandered toward the cable car station to return to South Campus for Myriam's staff meeting. As I approached the corner, a gray-haired man barreled down the walkway and smashed directly into me, launching my glasses to the curb. “Whoa, slow down. You're gonna kill someone if you don't watch where you're going, sir.” When I located my undamaged spectacles, an irate beast with a protuberant jaw and cauliflower ears fumed and waved robotically.
“Do you know who I am? My family built this college. If anyone should mind his step, it's you.” Hiram Grey swatted at me with a giant paw to shove me to the side. Given his broad shoulders and large ribcage, the man wielded a powerful physical prowess. “That's better. Have a good day.”
“Ummm… Judge Grey, we've met briefly once before. I'm Kellan Ayrwick. I know several members of your family, and I believe you're acquainted with—” I choked out before he repeatedly snapped his fingers inches away from my lips.
“Seraphina's nosy grandkid. You bought my house, son.” His jowls relaxed, and the red puffiness around his face subsided. “My apologies. I thought you were some random student in my way.”
I looked younger than my age, but I couldn't pass for a student anymore, at least I didn't think so. Could he be more perceptive than I? He had met many people in his line of work. After realizing I hadn't responded, I smiled. “Yes, that's me. We're almost done with the first round of renovations. I've always wondered about the rumors concerning the place.”
“There are no ghosts. It's just a bunch of foolish gossipmongers with nothing to do but fabricate stories. My son Damien claimed weird things happened in the past, and one of my others, Xavier, wanted to hire spook doctors to perform an exorcism. I believe in hardcore facts and tangible evidence. I lived in that house fifty years ago, and never once did I see an apparition or have an otherworldly experience.” He excessively shook his hands and wobbled on his feet for dramatic effect.
“I understand. I don't believe in them either, it's just that… well….” I stumbled on my words as I didn't know how to explain what a few of us had experienced lately.
“I don't have time to dillydally, Mr. Ayrwick. I've just heard there's a skeleton in the Memorial Library ruins, and people think it's my Prudence. I need to find out for myself.” Judge Grey pushed past me and shuffled across the road toward the library. “Please give Seraphina my regards. Tell her I'll invite her to brunch one of these days.” No opportunity presented itself to check the socks he wore.
Moments later, his shadow was dust, and I hopped on the cable car. I'd never interacted with the magistrate during our real estate transaction. Paper pushers had handled everything, and not once had he personally given me a tour of the place or met with me to discuss the price or terms. Nana D had conveyed the offer, and they worked out the initial dea
l. Afterward, he'd disappeared to let his attorney lead the transaction. Thinking back, the harrowing man must've hidden something important.
If he was that determined to find out whether the skeleton belonged to Prudence, perhaps he had naught to do with her death. Could he have been an innocent party impacted by whatever had happened fifty years ago? I wasn't even certain the skeleton belonged to Prudence. It was all hearsay at this point. Until verifiable evidence assured us of the victim's identity, no one had a legitimate clue. I'd have thought a judge would feel the same way, rather than stomp across campus in a maniacal fury. What was that niggling sensation beginning to form in the back of my mind? Did it have anything to do with April's text message about how the skeleton had found its way into the library? For an older man, he had an intimidating brute strength and forceful demeanor. Was Hiram Grey my persistent stalker?
I arrived in the nick of time for Myriam's staff meeting in the third-floor studio. She scowled upon noticing my attempt to scan her ankles, then snapped her fingers at me like the judge. “There are little ghosts on the heels. You just can't see them. Keep your eyes where I can see them, Dr. Peepers.”
I stifled the innate desire to laugh boisterously, joined the group at the department's conference table, and sat next to a bemused Dr. Hope Lawson. “Why does everyone assign me weird nicknames?”
“You should've seen Dr. Castle watching the clock. She kept making a point of how much time was left before we would start, then looked sardonically at your empty chair.” Hope smiled facetiously, kicking me under the table. When I checked, she wore spider-covered black-and-white striped stockings.
“Thirty seconds to spare,” I whispered to Hope and glimpsed at Myriam, observing the faint evidence of the black eye from her struggle with Calliope. “Did you see that look of death I just got?”
“We can at long last proceed, now that our esteemed colleague has considerately joined the rest of us who thoughtfully arrived early.” Myriam rapped her knuckles on the wooden table and pointed a bony digit at me to ensure I knew to whom she'd been referring. “I thought we'd do things a little differently this time. Dr. Lawson, why don't you regale us with your thrilling acclimation to Braxton.”
Haunted House Ghost: Death At The Fall Festival (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 5) Page 7
