Haunted House Ghost: Death At The Fall Festival (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 5)

by James J Cudney

  I scratched my head. “Because of finding Ian's body?”

  “The police suspect her now. A former student working at a nearby tent had seen her visiting the stables earlier that evening. She was running away from the haunted hayride area. Her arms were scraped up, and she had straw stuck to her shoes. I don't want to believe she had anything to do with it, but no one can find her to provide an explanation.” Calliope tut-tutted before collecting the money her father had left for his check and wandering away.

  Nothing made sense. What reason would Minnie have for handling the pitchfork, unless she'd used it to hurt Madam Zenya? If it was Minnie, did she know it was Prudence or had she thought she impaled the psychic? While Minnie wasn't a frail woman, I had a tough time picturing her wielding the weapon and having enough strength to maim a human being.

  After wolfing down my meal, Eleanor stopped by. “I'm just devastated, Kellan,” she mewled, rubbing her red, puffy eyes and hugging me. “Madam Zenya was amazing. I can't believe she's gone.”

  Two thoughts crossed my mind as she pulled away. My sister was in pain because a criminal had murdered one of her idols, but in reality, it wasn't a true statement. I just couldn't tell her that. While Eleanor would never share the fact that the woman was still alive with anyone else, it put me in a difficult position.

  “There is a lot going on, sis. I promise you; things aren't totally what they seem. Don't tell anyone else that I said that, but believe me, we'll figure out what happened.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?” A small ray of hope perked up her saddened face.

  “Nothing. We never had this conversation. I'm not telling you that the tears aren't necessary yet, but….” I leaned forward and put my hand on hers. “Just give me three days to solve this. I might have good news to share.” If I could find Madam Zenya. I had an inkling of where she was hiding.

  “You know what else is in three days?” Eleanor grinned, her worries fading a miniscule amount.

  “My birthday. Thirty-three… wow, I'm getting up there.” I'd always hated having a birthday on Halloween. People said Christmas was the worst birthday because you received fewer gifts. Try putting on a costume to go trick-or-treating when you're a kid and having your mother dress you in an orange birthday cake outfit. Every year, she'd ask Nana D to sew on another fake candle, so everyone knew how old I was. At thirteen, I'd put my foot down and demanded no more costumes. Unfortunately, it resulted in my entire birthday being ignored because my mother thought I'd behaved too childishly. Ever since, even though she tried to make up for it, I'd hated celebrating my birthday.

  “You'll always be two years older than me.”

  “And you'll always remind me.”

  After our goodbye hug, I headed to campus to teach my afternoon courses. In between classes, Myriam appeared in my office. One minute, I was reading an email from a student who wanted to discuss the bad grade I'd assigned her. The next, my boss was interrupting my quiet afternoon with another tirade about people's lack of respect for her time.

  “What happened, Dr. Castle? Hopefully, I haven't offended you in any way, shape, or form this week.” I smiled facetiously, hoping she hadn't noticed my slight glare.

  “Reputation is an idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit and lost without deserving.” Myriam quoted her favorite Shakespeare play, Othello.

  “Okay, I'm going out on a limb. Did someone cancel a meeting with you today?” I felt my foot tapping the desk leg in frustration. If I kept at it, the entire piece of furniture would collapse.

  “Dr. Lawson called out for a second day. She's been teaching for six weeks and has had multiple emergencies pop up. I'm wondering if you made a bad recommendation, Dr. Ayrwick.”

  “Whoa! I did no such thing, Dr. Castle. I warned you I had a concern about Hope's real interest in wanting to work at Braxton, but you told me that—”

  Dr. Castle smiled, then cleared her throat. “I vaguely recall our conversation. Perhaps next time you'll be more adamant about this supposed warning you gave me. I'm a reasonable woman, and I'm happy to consider all input my professors provide.”

  The nerve of the woman. I couldn't tell if she was attempting to be sarcastic or if she'd genuinely forgotten the extent of our prior conversation about Hope. “What reason did she give?”

  “Something about her mother hurting her back yesterday and needing to get to a doctor.” Myriam muttered a few impertinent words about the situation, excusing herself to attend a meeting.

  If Hope was taking care of her mother for a back injury, there was a possibility that Raelynn had been involved in attacking Hiram's carriage ride. Too many potential suspects flitted about, yet none of them had fully understandable motives. Someone was deceiving me, and I couldn't be sure which person had passed my built-in lie-detectors. I'd need to share the news with April at dinner that night.

  I met with several students and had a cup of tea with Fern Terry, a good friend who I'd sorely missed in the last couple of weeks. She'd taken on double-duty as both the Dean of Student Affairs and the Dean of Academics when the previous one had retired. Ed Mulligan had been involved in a scandal on campus with one of the department chairs who reported to him. Ursula Power had delicately convinced him to retire by threatening to fire him for unethical behavior. He promptly accepted a small exit package and left with his tail between his legs. Ursula was close to hiring the new dean, but until then, Fern was overwhelmed and frequently canceled our lunch dates.

  At the end of the day, I checked on Emma and Ulan. After confirming all was well with them, I drove to my house to meet Bartleby. When I arrived, Officer Flatman, who was posted at the front door, informed me the officer stationed in the basement had just gone on dinner break. “Sheriff Montague is a little short-staffed this week, so we don't have a back-up. I run back and forth during the thirty minutes when my partner grabs our dinner.”

  Officer Flatman eased my concern about Bartleby's desire for meeting with me in private, as we'd have one less person to overhear our conversation. I wasn't sure if it was ideal to leave the basement unattended for even five minutes. We had a murder investigation underway, and although there wasn't absolute proof of the ghost haunting my house being connected to Hiram's attack, it was a major lapse in judgment. I'd need to discuss it with April at dinner, which would cause a disagreement about my constant involvement in her job. She could just… never mind.

  “I'm taking a walk down to the basement. I'll call you if anything rings suspicious.” I informed Officer Flatman that Bartleby would arrive momentarily and that he could send him downstairs.

  I dropped off my keys on the table in the hallway and descended the stairs. The door was open, and Nicky had set up a temporary electrical system, connecting to the circuit breakers in the kitchen. After wandering around the immediate area, scrounging for any clues as to what was going on, a voice called out to me. It was a feminine tone and emanated from one of the passageways.

  I stepped a few feet into the nearest opening, keenly aware of the danger I might face. Before I shouted for Flatman, I needed to verify I wasn't hearing things. “Who's there?”

  A woman jumped out and reached an arm toward me. “I'm glad you came, Kellan. Bartleby told me we could trust you.” She wore a white lace dress that matched what the construction workers had seen. Had I finally met my ghost?

  “You're Madam Zenya, aren't you?” My pulse quickened as she lifted a lantern.

  “Follow me. There's much to discuss.” Madam Zenya clutched my hand and dragged me deeper into the underground tunnels. As we ran, I reached for my cell phone to record the conversation, but it fell from my pocket somewhere in the pitch black. I could scarcely see two feet in front of me.

  Madam Zenya stopped and flippantly addressed me. “Just leave it behind. There's no time.” As the enigmatic psychic led me through the tunnels, she advised me to quicken my pace. “We must get to the other side before the police officer returns.”

  I threw cautio
n to the wind and followed my instincts into the darkness that awaited. We meandered through a labyrinth of red-clay passageways, making a series of swift lefts and rights. Water dripped nearby and trickled in a stream on the ground along our side. We were close to the Finnulia River. Was she taking me to the secret entrance near the bridge that no one could find?

  “Where are we going? They're bound to find my phone and think something happened to me.” I let her lead the way, certain it would become clear soon enough.

  “Just a few minutes more,” she encouraged, then stopped rushing once we reached a dead-end. Madam Zenya lifted the lantern and shined it against a wooden gate. She inserted a key into a hidden lock and swung open the heavy door. “Welcome to my second home.”

  As soon as we stepped into the room, I knew where I was. “How did you navigate those tunnels so easily? I never knew this existed beneath the Braxton Lighthouse.”

  “Very few people do. My three-times great-grandfather built this lighthouse when he moved to Wharton County. The old one used to stand at the northern end of the river, closer to Crilly Lake. He thought it would serve better on the southern end, so our family could watch for any boats coming up the river sooner.” Madam Zenya lit several wicks on a chandelier hanging in the middle of the room, then turned off her small lantern and shut the wooden door. An eerie squeak from its rusty hinges echoed in the surprisingly marvelous space. “No one will find us in here. When we're done, I'll unlock the main door to go upstairs through a secret entrance back to the mainland.”

  “Did we go through a tunnel under the river?”

  She nodded. “The Garibaldis were instrumental in creating these tunnels during Prohibition.”

  I marveled at the extent of the labor required to accomplish such a feat. With ceilings at least twelve feet high and large, tinted octagonal windows, the room felt modern and grand. A gorgeous sitting room designed in a maritime theme with exquisitely tailored drapery and period furniture made the place seem almost ostentatious. “How do you know all this?”

  With brightened eyes and penetrating gaze, she announced, “Because I am Constance Garibaldi. Rumors of my death over fifty years ago were greatly exaggerated.”

  Chapter 15

  Constance extended a hand in my direction, eager to ship the formalities out of the way. “It is my immense pleasure to meet you, Kellan.”

  I awkwardly clasped her hand, then pulled away hesitantly. “Just to get the obvious question out of the way… did you kill Ian O'Malley and your sister?”

  “I did no such thing, but I believe I can trust you to help me prove who did.” Constance suggested we sit on a nearby sofa while she divulged her story.

  “I have so many questions. I don't even know where to begin.” I wasn't prepared to render my undying trust to the woman, but we had to start somewhere.

  “Let me tell you what I know, and perhaps you can help me fill in the blanks.” She sunk into a leather couch with an exasperated sigh and grasped a pillow against her chest. “It all began….”

  Constance had been born with psychic abilities. She could read people's auras and foresaw visions of key events in their lives. By two years old, she'd grown fearful to be touched by anyone because the visions would plague her for hours afterward. No one had believed her, as all the premonitions were about events in the future. “My parents took me to tons of doctors and specialists. Those fools blamed it on the Garibaldi genes, complaining we were a nervous group of people with communication issues or sensitivity problems. During my first day in pre-school, I envisioned the Nazi concentration camps. The doctors began to sedate me, and after weeks of the problem only seeming to get worse, they institutionalized me.”

  “That's horrific. I've never been much of a believer in what you do, if I'm being honest. I don't mean to offend you. It always felt as if you were manipulating people's futures, but after that experience in the spooky corn maze where you channeled my grandpop, you have opened my eyes.”

  “So, you believe me now?”

  I managed only a nod. There had to be an explanation. “If you can see the past, why can't you determine who murdered your sister? Or Ian O'Malley?”

  “It doesn't work that way. I channel moments from the past and receive premonitions about the future. Never anything specific, but just enough to know when and where a situation might occur. I can only see the past if someone lets me see it.” Madam Zenya stretched and shook her body, almost writhing in circles. “I need to clear the energy, so I can finish telling you my story.”

  “Did Grandpop Michael just appear in the maze? Or did you summon someone important to me? How does this work?” I wasn't sure how I felt, yet I needed to know more.

  “We can talk about it another time. For now, believe in me. Your grandpop was in my pre-school class. I could feel his presence because he had been kind to me the day I had that vision of the Nazis. He sat by my side and held my hand when all the other kids pointed and laughed. Even the teacher thought I was incorrigible and acting out for attention.” Madam Zenya sat again and smoothed a wrinkle in her voluminous skirt. “Where were we?”

  “They took you away to an institution. A colleague of mine researched your background. She led me to believe that you never left the facility, but what I don't understand is how you are alive today. Hope Lawson and Bartleby Grosvalet both confirmed you had died. Hiram handled the transition of your family's assets to Prudence.” Had they both lied to me?

  “I have a lot to explain. Bartleby convinced me to take part in Braxton's Fall Festival. He wasn't comfortable telling you everything until I knew that I could trust you. As for the Lawson woman, I'll get to her soon enough,” she snapped. Constance continued her story, highlighting what she'd gone through in seventy-seven years of complicated history.

  After her parents had institutionalized Constance, the doctors kept her medicated and ran an inordinate number of tests on her brain, including electro-convulsive therapy. All it had accomplished was to make her tired, weak, and willing to cooperate. Her parents and sister visited every month, and Constance played the game to receive as minimally invasive treatments as possible. One day, Prudence agreed to help Constance escape from the institution. They unfortunately planned it for the day when news came that pirates had killed their parents off the coast of Africa. Prudence never showed up, and Constance tried to escape by herself. The doctors caught her and increased the drugs they'd been using to control her behavior.

  Prudence soon became pregnant with Damien and couldn't visit. As she spiraled downward, Constance learned that she was being transferred to another facility. “Hiram engineered it. I hadn't known it, but he'd paid off the doctors to ensure no one ever found me again. That's where Raelynn Trudeau enters our story.”

  “She was working with Hiram at the court while they were in law school together, right?” The puzzle was clearing up. Which of these people had cracked and killed Prudence the other day?

  “Correct. Except Raelynn was deeply in love with Hiram. I could see it whenever they visited me. At first, she was shy and hovered on the sidelines. Hiram claimed to be helping me, but I watched him manipulate Prudence into thinking she was losing her mind. I could never isolate my sister to protect her. One day, Hiram tried to gaslight me, told me that my sister had hurt herself. I never believed him.”

  “Hiram is far worse than I could've imagined.” My heart sunk for the Garibaldi sisters.

  Constance revealed that Hiram forced Raelynn to sign witness statements asserting Constance had attacked him and threatened to kill him. He manipulated Raelynn, who'd expected to be with Hiram when his plan finished, to have Constance officially declared insane and stripped of any inheritance. “The doctor created a fake death certificate, announcing to the institution that I'd taken my own life upon hearing the news of my parents' death and my sister's breakdown.” In secret, he'd transferred Constance to another facility under a phony name and paid for her ongoing treatment. Once Prudence disappeared, Hiram waited the seve
n years before he could declare her dead, enabling him to inherit the Garibaldi fortune.

  “Wasn't Hiram afraid you'd come back one day?”

  “Probably at first. After a few months, I escaped. Once I blackmailed the doctor about what he'd done, promising him I'd reveal how he tortured all his patients, he informed Hiram that I'd kicked the bucket during an experiment. The doctor died two weeks later of a heart attack, and I was a free woman. I secretly returned to Braxton and learned Prudence had passed away in a fire or disappeared. It explained why she'd never saved me.” Constance spent weeks searching but never found her sister.

  “Why didn't you go to the cops?”

  “I'd been in a mental institution for twenty-five years. I was still recovering from the death of my parents and sister. No one would believe me.” Constance had convinced the doctor before he died to give her enough money to leave town to heal. By the time she was strong enough to fight back, Hiram had become a successful attorney and respected leader in Braxton. “I gave up and moved on, forgetting my former life as a Garibaldi. I no longer had to worry about people thinking I was crazy. I joined a traveling carnival, and they created a new identity for me. I've been Madam Zenya for decades.”

  “Why did you come back to Braxton?” Her story was an astounding one, but there were too many questions left remaining.

  “After such an extended period, I was nostalgic. The opportunity to return to my childhood hometown called to me. Despite my abilities, I'd never been able to reach Prudence. I thought if I was back in our house, she'd ultimately cross from the Great Beyond to visit me.” Constance explained she'd been curious about Eleanor's invitation and returned to meet with Bartleby, who'd been a follower of Madam Zenya's for years, as he believed in paranormal activity. Constance saw the opportunity to come home again in secret, so she visited Wharton County under the guise of headlining the Fall Festival. She'd been living here for months and absorbing all the history she'd missed.