Ida and Mavis remained silent as they observed the interchange between their two longtime friends.
“No, I was just thinking about last night, that’s all. Walter, Thomas. Maybe tonight one of your husbands’ ghosts will make an appearance. That’s the only strangeness going on that I know about.”
“It is odd, no doubt about it,” Toots chimed in. “Isn’t it about time to start another séance? You said we needed to duplicate last night’s scenario. I’m ready if you all are.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Sophie asked. “I’ve got everything set up. All we need to do is put on the same clothes we wore last night. You never know.”
“I refuse to wear dirty clothes,” Ida said.
Mavis adjusted Coco on the usual spot on her lap. “I can change, but most of my clothes are the same. I don’t know that this will matter, but if you insist, I’ll go upstairs and change now.”
“Okay, I’ll do the same,” Sophie added. “Toots, are you willing?”
“Of course. Let’s get started. I can’t wait to see who appears tonight,” Toots remarked. “Boring we are not.”
Mavis and Ida followed Toots and Sophie inside to prepare for the night’s performance.
Twenty minutes later, all but Ida wore the same clothes they’d had on the previous evening, when they were visited by ghosts of husbands past.
As was becoming the norm, Mavis lit the candles while Sophie spread the purple silk sheet on top of the wooden table. She used the same drinking glass they always used. Almost a replica of last night, right down to the time of day.
They all sat down in their respective seats. Once they were seated, Sophie began with her usual prayer. When several minutes passed and nothing happened, Sophie tried another method, something she had been reading about but up until now hadn’t had the courage, or rather the nerve, to try.
“Let’s all hold hands,” Sophie announced. “I’m going to try something different.”
They reached for each other’s hands and waited for Sophie’s instructions. Taking a deep breath, Sophie stared at the doorway leading to the kitchen, just as she had last night. “We want to talk to whoever is out there. If you hear this, make a rapping noise.”
The room went silent. When nothing happened, Sophie repeated herself. Still, nothing happened. Sophie was ready to resort to what worked when the drinking glass flew off the table, shattering as it hit the wall opposite from where Sophie was sitting. Momentarily stunned, Sophie, along with Ida, Toots, and Mavis, stared at the wall; then all eyes went to the pile of broken glass on the floor.
An event that might change their perspective on what they’d undertaken was about to occur. Moisture gathered in the palms of her hands as Sophie gave Toots and Mavis a reassuring squeeze. Fear hung in the air like dust in a musty old attic.
Ida whimpered, pulling her hand away from Mavis’s. In a loud whisper, she said, “I can’t do this.” She ran out of the room so fast Sophie didn’t have a chance to react.
“Shh, it’s okay. We can do this ourselves,” Sophie said, hoping to reassure Toots and Mavis. Wanting to let her friends know she was still in control, she pulled her chair closer to the table, releasing their hands as she did so.
After another cleansing breath, Sophie tried to make contact with the ghost or ghosts again. “Whoever is here with us now, are you responsible for shattering this glass? If your answer is yes, make a rapping noise, once for yes and twice for no.”
A knocking sound came from beneath the table. Once.
Sophie eyed Toots, who had a death grip on Mavis’s hand. “Okay, so you broke our glass. Are you friendly? If you’re friendly, rap again.”
One sharp rap came from under the table.
“Okayyy,” Sophie said. “Were you married to someone in this room? If so, prove it.” Succinct, and to the point, she hoped this spirit had a sense of humor.
The room was still, not even the flames on the candles made the slightest flicker. It was as though the air had somehow become thicker, visible like fog.
Ever so slowly, the purple sheet began to wrinkle, as if someone were grabbing it and slowly tugging on it, similar to the magician’s trick of yanking a tablecloth while the dishes remained intact. Mavis, Toots, and Sophie were transfixed as they saw the sheet lift up like a tent. When the edges of the purple silk sheet elevated to the top of the table, the three women gasped, their breaths coming in shallow pants.
Sophie held herself together. This was remarkable. She glanced over at the video recorder. The bright red light shone like a beacon, indicating it was on and running. The voice recorder hummed along, too.
The purple silk sheet rose above the table, swirled back and forth like a matador’s cape, then dropped directly into Toots’s lap. “Oh my gosh!” she cried out.
“It’s okay. Stay calm,” Sophie said to Toots. “So you’re one of Toots’s many husbands? There have been so many. Is there any way you can distinguish yourself?”
Toots wasn’t frightened enough not to be insulted by Sophie’s questions to this . . . spirit.
Suddenly, the candle flames doubled in size, then extinguished themselves. Darkness filled the room, along with the scent of melted wax. Toots tossed the sheet off her lap as though it were on fire.
“Be quiet!” Sophie cried. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with!” Prepared for the unexpected, Sophie whipped a Bic lighter out of her pocket. She relit the candle on the windowsill behind her.
Sophie reached for the sheet, placing it back on the table in a pile. “Are you angry with Toots?”
Again, the purple silk sheet sailed from the tabletop. Only this time it floated like a magic carpet around the dining room, zooming around the table, then dropping on the floor in front of Toots’s chair. Mavis placed her hand across her chest while Toots stared as though she were in a state of shock. Sophie genuflected.
As suddenly as it started flying around the dining room, the sheet dropped to the floor, after which there was a bloodcurdling scream.
Chapter 4
Ida was sitting in the bathtub, soaking her aching bones. This séance stuff was too much for her to deal with. She’d been through so much since Thomas’s death, and the last thing she needed was a bunch of wild ghostly apparitions chasing her around the house. Maybe it was time for her to go back to New York, call it quits. Ida’s fingers were starting to prune, so it was time to get out of the hot water and get into bed. She might even consider taking one of those sleeping pills that so-called excuse for a doctor had prescribed for her. She flicked the drain button with her toe and stood up. She was reaching for the thick, fluffy bath towel when she looked at the mirror above the sink. It was completely fogged up, yet the words I was poisoned formed in wet drips on the mirror.
Ida let out a bloodcurdling scream.
Heavy footsteps bounded up the stairs, stopping when they reached her bedroom door. A loud banging ensued.
“Ida, what the hell is going on in there?” Toots asked, fearful for her friend, causing her heart to skip a beat. Mavis and Sophie were right behind her.
“What’s wrong? Is she trying to scare the daylights out of us just to tick us off?” Sophie asked.
Toots banged on the door again. “Ida, if you don’t answer me or come out of there, I’m going to call nine-one-one, and they’ll drag your ass out dressed or not.”
They waited for the bedroom door to open, anything to let them know Ida was alive and well.
Sophie raised her voice several octaves higher. “If you don’t open the door, I’m going to kick it down and drag your flabby ass out and tie you to that Hollywood sign in the hills. Then the world will know you wear padded bras because your tits are the size of fried eggs.” Sophie always went for the humor. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn’t. Without further ado, Sophie raised her foot high in the air and kicked the door, doing nothing more than injuring her foot on the solid oak. “Open this damned door now!”
“Oh, stop it! I have a key
for all the bedrooms on top of the door frame.” Toots raced down the hall, where she ran her hand across the top of her door frame. A soft whimpering could be heard from behind the door to Ida’s room, which remained locked. Finding the key, she quickly returned and unlocked the door, then, seeing no one in the bedroom, rushed to the bathroom just as Ida, wrapped in a large bath sheet and looking like she had seen a ghost, opened the door.
When Ida saw Toots and the others, she turned her back on them and walked back into the bathroom, where she dropped onto the floor in a heap.
“Follow her,” Toots said.
Ida and Sophie trailed behind Toots, all three stopping when they entered Ida’s bathroom.
With a shaky finger, Ida pointed to the words etched in the steam still running down the mirror.
I was poisoned.
One by one Toots, Sophie, and Mavis read the words, each expressing shock at what she saw.
As was the norm, Sophie was the one to break the silence. “So it wasn’t that tainted meat that killed Thomas, after all. Good grief, Ida, it seems to me Thomas has come back from the grave to tell you he was murdered! Toots, what about it?” Sophie asked. Ida had yet to utter a single word.
Mavis stationed herself in the doorway, almost afraid to say anything for fear of upsetting poor Ida any more than she already was.
“Do you think I should call nine-one-one?” Mavis asked.
“Hell no! I’ll take care of this,” Sophie informed her.
Toots was shocked by what she saw. Huddled in the corner where she had collapsed, the giant bath sheet still wrapped around her, Ida was as white as a sheet. She had a haunted look in her eyes, her lips were blue, and her teeth were chattering as though she were freezing.
In a voice that was barely a whisper, Ida said, “I think they killed him.”
“What the hell are you talking about now?” Sophie asked, not immediately connecting what had just been said with the frightening words oozing down the foggy mirror. Then Sophie followed Toots’s gaze to the mirror and finally understood.
“If what this mirror says is true, then someone murdered Thomas. All this time, poor Ida thought he died from tainted meat. This is serious stuff, nothing to laugh at,” Toots said.
“Yes, and I can just see it now. We call the police and tell them Ida’s former husband was poisoned. They are really going to believe us, especially when they find out he’s been dead for almost a year. I wonder what they’ll think when we tell the cops that a ghost wrote this on a foggy bathroom mirror. Can’t you see how bad that makes all of us look?” Sophie asked.
“She’s right. “Should we call Chris?” Mavis asked, referring to Christopher Clay, Toots’s stepson, who was a local entertainment lawyer.
“No, I don’t think that would be a very good idea.” Toots stooped down to the floor, reached for Ida’s hands, and gently tried to pull her into a standing position. “Ida, you need to get yourself together. We can handle this. After all, we are the godmothers.” She said the last few words in an attempt to humor Ida.
“Let me take care of this,” Sophie said. “Get your dirty, rotten ass off the floor, and quit acting like a wimp! I’ve had it with you and your prissy-ass ways. First, it’s the OCD and all the germs. Second, you wind up doing the horizontal mambo with that old, perverted fake doctor, and now, when we’re at the point of phenomenal success with our séances, you have to screw it all up by letting the spirit of your ex-husband scare the shit out of you.”
With her usual tactlessness, Sophie grabbed Ida’s hands in her own, pulled her to her feet, and guided her into the bedroom. With a none-too-gentle shove, she pushed her down onto the bed.
“You have the subtlety of a tsunami,” Toots said. “You all know I’m not one to run away—chicken poop I am not—but I think it’s time we left, time to go to Charleston. I think we’ve all had the scare of our lives tonight. Once we’re in a place where we all feel safe, I really believe we need to call the authorities in New York and tell them our suspicions. I don’t think we need to mention any spirits or ghosts. We’ll figure something out. Sophie is a good liar, so she should be able to come up with something.”
They spent the rest of the evening soothing Ida and preparing for their trip to Charleston. Toots called Abby, explaining to her that they were making an unscheduled trip back home. She told Abby that she was going to contact Chris about house-sitting the beach house while she and the godmothers were gone. But if for some reason she could not reach him before they left tomorrow, she would call Abby and ask her to contact Chris to see if he would mind house-sitting for a few weeks. Abby said she would be more than happy to take care of it, telling her not to worry, that she and Chris could handle things while she was gone. With nothing more to do than pack their bags, make a few phone calls to, among other things, arrange for a chartered flight back East, and try to drown out the events of the evening with a few stiff drinks and more than one pack of cigarettes, they called it a night.
Tomorrow was another day.
Chapter 5
In spite of all the events of the evening, once the four friends had calmed down and gone to their separate rooms, Mavis couldn’t wait to boot up her computer and check for new orders, but she didn’t want what appeared to the others to be her odd behavior to arouse any more suspicion than it had already. Lately, Sophie had been giving her an eagle-eyed stare every time she saw her wearing dark colors. Unbeknownst to the others, Mavis had been working with a Web design company for the past couple of months, and her new Web site was up and running. A retired schoolteacher turned entrepreneur, or so she liked to think of herself, Mavis hoped she’d found a need that she could fill while making a little bit of extra money in the process. Though she received Social Security and a small pension from her years of teaching English, Mavis hated being so dependent on Toots for almost everything. She owed her life to Toots. Literally. It had been almost a year since Toots had sent her a plane ticket to visit her in Charleston.
She had been a hundred pounds overweight and lonelier than she had wanted to admit. Mavis could never forget the shopping trip Toots had arranged for her when she arrived. Catherine, a petite woman who used to dress such stars as Doris Day, had a shop specifically intended to provide attractive clothes for plus-size women. Mavis fit the bill. The woman dressed her bulky frame, and once they’d landed in this wonderful land of movies, sunshine, and sand, Mavis had started dieting, because she knew her life depended on it. It had been close to a year, and she was one hundred pounds lighter and a perfect size eight. She had never intended to get into the fashion business. She’d been a high school English teacher her entire life. However, when she started losing weight, her clothes hung on her like a sheet. Handy with a needle and thread, Mavis took in her clothes; then, when she lost even more weight, she started remaking the clothes herself. Toots, ever the bearer of gifts, had bought her the best sewing machine on the market, and here she was, designing, making, and selling her new clothes over the Internet. Surprised at how much she enjoyed designing and creating eye-catching outfits, she beamed with every outfit she finished. They never failed to elicit a compliment from the girls. If, and it was a big if, her line of clothes was successful, she’d already made contact with a factory, and she’d even found a source of high-quality material that would put her mourning clothes right up there with those of some of the big-name designers. Ralph Lauren, Anne Klein, and Gloria Vanderbilt, watch out!
She’d taken to reading the obituaries with her morning coffee after she decided a romance with George wasn’t what she wanted, especially knowing he needed that vacuum construction device, VCD, to have sex. Herbert, her dearly departed husband, had been her one true love. She wasn’t looking for a romance but tried to keep an open mind. One just never knew about these things. She’d seen dear Toots through eight marriages. Mavis seriously doubted she’d live long enough to marry that many times. Toots was a lovable person. No wonder she’d had so many husbands.
Mavis was exc
ited as she logged on to the Internet and clicked on the URL that was exclusively hers. She knew Sophie suspected she was up to something, but Mavis wanted to keep it under her hat for a while. She needed to see if her enterprise was going to be a success or just something to while away the hours. She’d always been content living day to day when she was in Maine, watching her soaps and eating junk food. Now she felt as though she was being transformed with each pound she lost. And with every pound shed, she’d discovered she wanted to do something. Make her mark, even if it was just a tiny blip on the World Wide Web.
A few months ago, she’d read an obituary that brought barrels of tears to her eyes. Knowing it was the right thing to do, she’d dressed in her latest design, a charcoal gray skirt that flowed over her hips like silk, topping it off with a light gray blouse and matching jacket. If asked, she would tell you this was her best design so far. Ida had complimented her, wanting to know when and where she’d purchased the stellar suit. Mavis had told a tiny white lie when she’d said she didn’t recall. It was too soon to reveal her plans. She would know when the time was right. If she had any success at all, she would share her new business with the girls.
For now, she thanked Pearl Mae Atkins. It was Pearl’s obituary that sent her to her first funeral, if one wanted to call it that. Poor Pearl’s obit had said there was no one left; she had died at home alone in her sleep. The obit had said there would be a five-minute memorial service at Chasten’s Funeral Home. With no one to say a final good-bye, Mavis had felt compelled to make sure Pearl didn’t pass into the other world without someone to wish her a safe journey. She’d secretly made arrangements for a taxi to pick her up and wait while she attended the service, then return her home. The girls would laugh at her if they knew just how sad she’d felt. On the way, she’d had the taxi driver stop at a convenience store, where she’d purchased all the long-stemmed roses that sat in a dirty white bucket next to the cash register. Had time permitted, she would have ordered the biggest, brightest floral arrangement that was within her budget, but the roses were the best she could do.
Late Edition Page 4
