“Nobody gave it to me. I took it at the Fall Festival,” Emma cautiously replied, rushing over to me for a hug. “I didn't mean to steal it. I thought it would help you.”
“Emma, honey, tell me who you stole it from.”
Emma hung her head low, then traced lines on my forearm to distract me. “I was with Grandma and Grandpa. They were talking to someone, and I got bored. So, I looked at another table in the next tent. Grandpa knew I was there. He said it was okay.”
“I'm not mad. If Grandpa saw where you were, that's fine. Tell me what happened.” I held both her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs against her palms. After pushing her for all the details, Emma explained that a woman had visited a jewelry tent and was looking for crystals to protect herself from a ghost. The saleslady sold her a stone and directed the woman to keep it on her body at all times. When the saleslady saw Emma watching her intently, she informed Emma that the stone was to protect people from ghosts, warning she should protect herself too. I texted Eleanor a picture of the green object.
Eleanor: Clairvoyants believe peridot stops ghosts from influencing or hurting you. Psychic mediums use them all the time.
April returned as I was reading Eleanor's response. After I showed her the text message, April tapped her fingernails against the bedframe and addressed Emma. “Can you describe the two women?”
Emma smiled. “The saleslady wore a funny hat on her head that covered her whole face. She told me to give you the card and said her name was Madam Z and that she'd contact you. I forgot.”
“What else happened?” I lifted and placed Emma in bed, then drew the covers over her body.
“Madam Z's hand was freezing cold when she touched my arm. I ran quickly back to Grandpa.”
“Did you recognize who Madam Z was talking to before she gave you the card?”
“Nope, but she was scared. Her name sounded like the good witch from The Wizard of Oz, except it started with a B, I think.”
I described Belinda Grey to my daughter, and she bobbled her head up and down repeatedly. “That was her. She ran away faster than I did when the woman whispered something in her ear too.”
After I tucked Emma in, reminding her not to talk to strangers ever again, April and I walked back to the kitchen. “That's a little peculiar. Why would Madam Zenya intentionally scare Belinda and ask Emma to deliver a message to me?”
“I'm not sure, but you better confront her tomorrow. I don't like the notion she'd approach a seven-year-old child in such a way, even if Emma walked over to her tent.” April finished the remnants of her wine, then declined a refill. “I've got to drive over to the festival now. There's been more drama.”
“What happened now?” My stomach groaned in frustration and disillusion.
“Someone bashed in all the windows on Lloyd Nickels' car and left him a message.”
“What did it say?” Suspicion formed inside my head over the day's peculiar activities.
“Murderer. It might have been some kids who thought the prank would be funny, but something doesn't feel right to me,” April hissed. After instructing Augie to head home and get to sleep at a reasonable hour, she asked me to accompany her to her motorcycle.
“What's going on in this town? Do you think it's the same vandal causing damage at my house?” I unlatched April's helmet and handed it to her.
“That's not all. Lloyd was scheduled to lead the horse-drawn carriage hayrides this evening. He hitched the horses to the main coach and prepared the cart with all the straw for his passengers. Then, he and his apprentice took a quick walk through the spooky corn maze before he started the ride.”
The horse-drawn carriage hayride was a beautiful sight and treasured experience in past festivals. Two powerful but serene horses led a traditional Victorian two-seater coach, not unlike the one I'd seen in the Cinderella movies that Emma loved. The plush, velvet-cushioned two-seater coach connected to a separate four-wheel carriage that was covered with straw and contained several benches for travelers to sit in. There was a small window in the driver's coach to communicate with the riders, and the passenger carriage could transport up to twelve people at once. This year's theme colors were orange, purple, and black, and it was sponsored by a local costume shop that had dressed everyone for Braxton's spring masquerade ball. Lloyd Nickels and his apprentice wore a headless horseman costume so that people would think they were being led by the infamous character from Irving's The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
“Then what happened?” It must've transpired as soon as Lloyd and I'd finished chatting earlier.
“When he returned,” April advised, pausing for dramatic effect, “he discovered that someone had poured kerosene all over his seat.”
“Did the jerk start a fire?” I gasped.
“Lloyd interrupted whoever had intended to burn him to a crisp, but your grandmother thinks she saw someone skulking nearby. I'll call you later.” April started the bike and drove to the other side of Danby Landing. The area for the Fall Festival was at least a mile away from the main farmhouse, cottage, and orchard on my nana's farm. We didn't want guests to wander into our private spaces. The spectacular's attendees were respectful now that she was the county mayor. Just as April's motorcycle rounded the corner, my cell phone vibrated with a text message.
Nana D: In case your girlfriend hasn't already told you… Hiram Grey was here earlier, fighting with Lloyd Nickels. There's some bad blood between those two, and I think Hiram tried to kill Lloyd tonight.
Me: That's insane. Why would Hiram be angry with Lloyd?
Nana D: Seeking revenge against Lloyd for locking Prudence in the library.
Me: Maybe Hiram hasn't been told it wasn't her skeleton found in the library. I'm coming over.
Nana D: Don't. We can talk about it tomorrow. I'm pooped, and my bed is calling me.
* * *
Early the next morning, my parents collected the kids at Danby Landing. They'd begged to spend the day at the Royal Chic-Shack, the expanded log cabin home I'd grown up in. My father wanted to teach Ulan how to play billiards, and Emma was holding a formal yet mysterious Halloween tea party with my mother and her best friends. They'd planned to attend Mass later in the day without me since I'd agreed to drive Nana D to church that morning. Because of her responsibilities at the opening of the Fall Festival the previous day, she couldn't attend her regular Saturday service.
After Mass ended, Nana D tugged on the sleeve of my jacket. “Follow me to the offices. We have some questions to ask Minnie O'Malley.”
“What do you need to talk to Minnie about?” I was more interested in speaking with Hiram, who'd attended the service, except he'd snuck off after communion rather than stay for final prayers.
“Minnie might know more about Ian's death. She could use a friend's shoulder to lean on. I brought her favorite pastries,” Nana D stated while handing a box to me and shuffling sideways out of the pew. “Apple strudel and mini banana bread loaves.”
“Tell me again why you think Hiram poured kerosene on the horse-drawn coach.” I waited for her to step in the aisle, then grabbed her hand to escort her to the rectory.
“Hiram sought me out on the farm last night after you left. Asked where the haunted hayrides were taking place and told me he had business to take care of with Lloyd.” Nana D had known both men for most of her life, but while she and Hiram had always been at odds, Lloyd was a long-term friend. She wouldn't tolerate anyone causing trouble when it was undeserved.
“Did you see him carrying any strange bottles or bags? I can't believe our local magistrate would take such a huge risk in a public setting.” Although I found it odd that Hiram had been looking for Lloyd right before the incident had occurred, the irascible man would've been much more careful. Was it possible that Hiram suspected Ian O'Malley and Lloyd Nickels of conspiring to hurt Prudence? If they had been guilty, Prudence must have outsmarted them for Ian to end up dead and her to escape.
“Nope, but we use kerosene in all the lanterns
that light the pathways for the haunted hayride. There were several bottles left nearby for the staff should they need to refill a few.” Nana D confirmed someone had carelessly thrown one empty bottle behind a pumpkin patch on the other side of the farm. April had taken it to check for fingerprints but was certain the vandal had used gloves.
“Kerosene fumes are obvious and strong. Did you smell anything like it on Hiram?” I assumed they had questioned him at the Fall Festival but wasn't sure if Nana D or April had talked to him first.
“When I saw Hiram, he smelled like bourbon, not kerosene. He left my kitchen and clambered down the path behind the orchard toward the horse stables in search of Lloyd. I never found him again.”
As we navigated through the perimeter of the church, Nana D exchanged pleasantries with our fellow parishioners. Always eager to please her constituents, what should've lasted sixty seconds took ten times as long before we located Minnie in the office. Nana D opened the door without knocking, to escape the crowd. Minnie sat in a small recliner in the room's corner, her hands clasped in her lap and a Bible on the arm of the chair. Her ashen face offered only sorrow and pain, and she seemed stuck in a trance. Minnie soon startled, reached for a nearby mug, and sipped a strong peppermint tea.
Nana D kneeled in front of her and gently tapped Minnie's right hand. “How're you doing, Min?”
Minnie's head flung against the seatback. “Ian never left me. My husband came home to me.”
I glanced at Nana D, trapped between my heartstrings and logic. Did Minnie think her husband was still alive? “Do you mean the day of the fire?”
Nana D collected a folding chair from the nearby closet and placed it next to Minnie.
“No, Ian will show up tomorrow. We're gonna be together again.” Minnie lovingly looked at Nana D, who'd sat and begun comforting her friend.
Nana D shrugged. “Honey, you know tomorrow is the memorial service for Ian, right?” Minnie had elected to hold an intimate Mass at St. Mary's Catholic Church, followed by a graveside service to honor her husband Ian. Knowing that most of his friends and family had grieved over the man's loss throughout the last fifty years, it hadn't felt appropriate to hold a traditional wake at the funeral home.
Minnie sighed. “Yes, Seraphina. I'm sorry… sometimes I get confused about it all.”
I changed the subject. “Have the police explained what happened years ago?”
Minnie briefly rested her head against Nana D's shoulder. “I don't know. Elijah is talking to them for me. I don't think I can bear to answer any more questions.”
Nana D squeezed Minnie's hand. “Did Lloyd tell you if he saw Ian in the library that day?”
“No,” Minnie repeated several times, idly stirring her tea in such a way as to avoid the spoon touching the cup. It seemed to occupy the primary focus of her thoughts and energy. “He didn't.”
“Has Lloyd been there to help you this weekend?” I knew they'd briefly spoken when he was released from prison, but I wasn't sure if he'd told her about the kerosene incident.
“A little,” she whispered, shrugging and sighing. “I care a great deal about Lloyd, but I can only think about Ian right now. Let's not talk about Lloyd.”
“Okay, we understand.” I glanced at my nana, hoping she recognized that I needed more information if there was any chance of solving what had happened to Minnie's husband.
“Minnie, my dear friend, do you know if Ian had any friends or acquaintances whom he might've tried to see that day he returned to Braxton? Perhaps army buddies?”
Minnie's eyes shot to the ceiling. “No, the detective asked me the same question. No one knew he was home. Not even his mother. He didn't have any friends. Just me and his brother, Elijah.”
“Was Ian hurt in Vietnam? When was the last time you remember hearing from him before that day?” I approached the topic from a different angle, wondering if that might render more success.
Minnie sniffled to contain her tears. “He was a hero. Months afterward, I received one of his medals. The government thinks they sent him home, but I don't trust them anymore, Seraphina.”
I could tell that we were pushing too much. I wanted to question whether Minnie thought Ian might've been having an affair with Prudence, but it didn't seem like an appropriate thing to ask.
Across the room, the back door flung open. Father Elijah hesitantly stepped inside and cleared his throat. “Kellan, Seraphina… what are you two doing here?”
“Elijah, they came to see Ian. He's been gone so long. I'm sure they want to visit with him.” Minnie brushed a tear from her eye and reached a hand toward her brother-in-law.
I poured myself a cup of water from a pitcher on the table next to the desk. I walked toward Father Elijah, angling and cocking my head to relay I wanted to speak with him alone. When we stepped out the door he'd entered through, I found myself in a narrow hallway between the pulpit and the rectory. I'd never known there was a secret alcove and another small room back there.
“What's happened to her? She seems lost and confused about what's going on.” Minnie had a dazed look in her eyes and could scarcely convey her words without shaking.
“Minnie isn't well today. She doesn't want to accept Ian is dead. She thinks he's contacted her to reveal something important.” Father Elijah explained Minnie had a minor breakdown upon learning her husband had returned home fifty years ago and never visited her before going to the library.
“Does she think it's 1968? Or is she in a state of denial?”
“I'm uncertain,” Father Elijah replied, loosening his collar and inhaling a deep breath. “Ever since the sheriff confirmed the skeleton belonged to Ian, Minnie has been out of sorts. I didn't even know she showed up at the church this morning until I saw her roaming around in the vestibule between masses.” He had no time to bring her back home, so he made her comfortable in the main office and led the second Mass of the morning, hoping she'd rest and recover before he returned.
Nana D stepped into the hallway. “What's this crazy talk about Ian having news for Minnie?”
“I wish I knew, Seraphina. Minnie claims Ian contacted her and said there was something important he had to do. I haven't gotten to call Dr. Betscha yet this morning.” Father Elijah pulled the door shut, so Minnie couldn't overhear him. “I think she's in shock.”
“I don't blame the woman,” I added, wondering why an odd expression formed on Nana D's face. She knew something or was processing an explanation in that crafty little head of hers.
“Didn't Minnie once insist Ian called her to say he was on his way home from Vietnam? I vaguely remember her getting all dolled up the day of the campus fire, excited to see him again.” Nana D mentioned that Minnie later retracted her statement when he never showed up, claiming she'd dreamt the whole event. “Her granddaughter, Jane, also told me about it once, I believe.”
Father Elijah sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “Nothing makes sense right now. I must get her home. If you'll please follow me into the church. You need to head out. I've got this under control.”
“I'd like to stay to ask her a few quest—” Nana D attempted to object, but I steered her back inside to say goodbye to Minnie. She crossly scrutinized me as though I'd offended her, griping as I pushed her through the main entranceway and pulled the door shut behind us.
“What is your problem, Kellan? I wanted to talk to Minnie before we left. Did you even give her the pastries?” Nana D was disgruntled about what I'd done.
“The box is on the desk inside. Something doesn't feel right about the whole situation. I wanted to get out of there before you said something you shouldn't.”
Minnie had once thought her husband was coming home fifty years ago, yet days later, she'd refused to believe the military had discharged him. The two statements didn't quite add up to me, and the way Father Elijah had ushered us out of the offices felt inordinately suspicious.
“I never say anything I don't mean to say. I don't have a clue what you're talking about, b
rilliant one.” Nana D stomped down the front steps of the church toward the parking lot.
I followed in quick pursuit, explaining my concerns while we drove downtown. “Didn't you get the impression Father Elijah doesn't want his sister-in-law to say anything else to us?”
“You've got a point. His response was hasty when I offered to help poor Minnie.” Nana D promised to check on her friend that night to see if she could find out anything else. “Thanks for dropping me off at the office. I'm meeting a friend for dinner tonight, so I won't need a ride home.”
Knowing she was out of my hair for a while and my parents occupied the kids, I rewarded myself with a lengthy workout at the gym. While lifting weights and running on the treadmill, my brain processed all that'd happened in the last week. There was no explanation for why Ian had entered the library's basement fifty years ago. Had he called Minnie to tell her he was on his way home from Vietnam and ask her to meet him there? If so, was he returning to end their relationship and be with Prudence? I had no reason to believe those two had gotten together, but there must've been some connection. If they'd met in Braxton before he shipped off to war, they might've corresponded by mail. If Minnie thought he was leaving her, could she have tried to kill the two lovers? Perhaps she'd successfully eliminated Ian, but Prudence had escaped to safety and was hiding the whole time. While the theory was plausible, I couldn't help but wonder why Prudence wouldn't have notified the cops. Then again, perhaps she'd also been killed, and we hadn't yet found her body. The other concerning item was establishing how Damien shared DNA with Ian. The Garibaldi family history was key.
Once the workout ended, I dashed to my office to make some calls and get ahead on some of my classes. I verified that Bartleby had obtained the key from Hiram's study and would arrive at nine the following night to access the basement. Hampton confirmed he was almost finished researching the legalities of my home purchase. Although we had no evidence that Prudence was alive, I preferred to be prepared rather than caught off-guard, if the woman ever showed up.
Haunted House Ghost: Death At The Fall Festival (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 5) Page 14
