Final Call - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 4)

by Terri Reid

  Panting heavily, Mary gathered her strength. Another jolt like that and she wouldn’t have a whole lot of fight left.

  “Mary the hose,” Faye called out. “The hose is behind you.”

  She twisted slightly and discovered she could just about reach the hose.

  Rodney moved in, slower this time, the clips in his hands stretched forward. Mary swung herself toward him and kicked him in the arm, forcing herself back towards the hose. She tried to grab it with her legs, but it slid out of reach.

  “My turn again,” he yelled, clipping the negative side to her waist and jabbing her with the sponge. She screamed again, kicking out blindly.

  She kicked the charger and it wobbled, Rodney jumped back to catch it before it fell. “You nearly ruined it,” he yelled. “You’re not supposed to do that.”

  He approached her again, circling from the other side. Her breath was coming in gasps and her body throbbed with pain. She twisted to face him.

  “Come on Mary,” he said. “If I do it from the back you won’t know what hit you.”

  “I’m not a coward like you,” she spat. “I can face it.”

  “I’m not a coward,” he yelled.

  “You’re worse than a coward,” she said. “You’re a spoiled brat and a momma’s boy. You never earned anything in your life.”

  “I did, I did earn it,” he said. “I’ll show them and I’ll show you.”

  He ran towards her. Mary pulled her legs together, lifted them and aimed for the middle of his chest. His momentum swung her back far enough to grab the hose with her leg. She swung around, the hose spewing a strong stream of water, catching Rodney in the face. He screamed and stumbled back against the charger. The charger tipped and Rodney fell with it into the large puddle on the ground. Mary heard the snap of electricity and heard Rodney’s cry of pain before the power went out and she was left hanging in the dark.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  When he couldn’t reach her on her cell phone, Bradley sped to Mary’s house. It was only eight-thirty in the morning. She had to still be home. He dashed up the stairs and threw open the door. “Mary,” he yelled. “Mary, where are you?”

  “Well, Bradley, good morning,” Rosie said, standing next to the kitchen table in her house robe. “I don’t think we were expecting you.”

  “Where’s Mary?” he asked.

  “She’s gone. She left early this morning,” Rosie said. “She took the Roadster.”

  Bradley pulled out his phone and pressed the walkie-talkie button. “I want an APB out on Mary O’ Reilly, last seen driving that damn Roadster of hers,” he said.

  He closed the phone and was ready to leave when he noticed Rosie had a strange look on her face. “Rosie are you...?”

  He followed her gaze and saw the dining room window was fogging up. Then an invisible finger started to write. W-I-N-N

  “Winneshiek,” Bradley called. “Got it, thanks Mike.”

  Lights flashing and sirens blazing, Bradley drove toward the theater.

  Mary’s couldn’t stop shaking, whether from the cold or the shock, spasms coursed through her body. Her arms were going numb and she didn’t know how much longer she was going to be able to remain conscious.

  She tried to listen to hear if Rodney was moving around. Was he unconscious? Was he dead? Or was he just waiting for another opportunity to strike?

  A light began to glow in the corner of the room. Mary held her breath waiting for the next terror to befall her. “So, Mary, just hanging around?” Mike asked, as his glowing spirit appeared next to her.

  “I really hate your sense of humor,” she stammered, her teeth chattering. “But I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “Oh, honey, you look rough,” he said. “Just hang in there, er, sorry again. The Calvary is just around the bend.”

  He looked around. Although is abilities were limited, there had to be something he could do. He spied a wooden crate lying against the wall. Concentrating with all his might, he was able to slide it along the floor and up next to Mary. “There sweetie, will that help?”

  Mary stepped on to it, her legs were shaking, but she was able to retain her balance. “Oh, Mike,” she stuttered. “That’s so much better. Thank you.”

  He stood next to her, looking at the bruising on her face and her stomach. There was an angry red burn at her waist line and he felt like murdering whoever had done this to her.

  “Do I look that bad,” she shivered.

  He shook his head. “No I was just admiring your outfit,” he said, looking at her soaking clothing and ripped shirt. “Although I have to admit it’s a bit obvious for my taste.”

  “Yeah, and I’d prefer something a little warmer,” she stuttered.

  They both heard the pounding on the door. “I don’t think the electronic lock works when the power is out,” Mike said. “This isn’t going to be pretty.”

  Mary heard a loud crash and the splintering of wood. “I don’t think Deb is going to be very happy about this,” she said.

  “Mary,” Bradley yelled. “Mary are you here?”

  She tried to stop the trembling enough to catch her breath, but she couldn’t gather the strength. “Down...here,” she stuttered softly, “In the basement.”

  She turned to Mike, her frustration evident. He saw a large metal pipe on the wall and pushed it so it clattered loudly down the stairs.

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  The bright beam of a flashlight hit Mary squarely in the eyes, and she turned away.

  “What the hell?” Bradley exclaimed, rushing to her. “Mary, what did he do to you?”

  “Electric shock treatment,” Mary supplied her voice shaking with cold, “From Lethal Weapon One, seems it was one of his favorite movies.”

  He moved the flashlight around the floor, finally resting on Rodney’s body, still and stiff on the floor.

  “I guess he misjudged his opponent,” he said.

  Mary sighed. “They always do.”

  “Is there enough room on that crate for two?” Bradley asked.

  Mary slid over and nodded. Bradley climbed up next to her to cut her arms down. She felt warmth emanating from his body and leaned against him. Just for survival, she told herself.

  “Where’d you get the crate?” he asked, murmuring into her hair as he worked through the rope.

  “A present from Mike,” she said. ‘He arrived just a few minutes ago.”

  “Mike’s a good guy,” he said.

  Finally, cutting through the rope, he slowly lowered her arms and then rubbed her wrists to get the circulation going again. “Ouch, that hurts,” she complained.

  “Yeah, I bet it does.”

  He climbed off the crate and held out his hand to help her down. She shook her head. “I don’t think I can do that,” she stammered.

  He lifted his flashlight again and took a good look at her. Her lips were blue and her skin tone was pale white. He saw the bruising and the burns Mike had seen earlier. Then he turned her and saw the angry red puckered lines of old scars crisscrossed on her back.

  “Exit wounds,” she said softly. “Killed my chances at winning any swimsuit competition.”

  He looked up at her and saw her embarrassment. “If you were in a bikini, I don’t think they’d be looking at your back.”

  She blushed slightly and he was glad to see a little color return to her face. He took off his coat and wrapped her inside it. “Lean towards me, sweetheart,” he whispered and scooped Mary up in his arms. “I know you hate hospitals, but this time you have to go.”

  She shook her head. “No, please,” she could barely speak; the tremors were getting so strong.

  “They have a big, hot Jacuzzi bath,” he promised. “And they will warm you up and take care of your burns.”

  “I don’t have burns,” she said. “I’m too cold.”

  “Can you just trust me?” he asked.

  “That was never the problem, Bradley,” she stammered, as her eyes final
ly closed in exhaustion. “You just never trusted me.”

  He carried her upstairs. “We’re going to need a paramedic downstairs and a forensics crew before we turn the power back on.”

  An ambulance was waiting outside the door. “She stays with me,” he said, climbing into the back with Mary still in his arms.

  The crew closed the door and climbed in the front, leaving Mary and Bradley alone for the short ride to the hospital. He gathered her closer, trying to stop the trembling and tenderly pressed a kiss on her forehead. “What the hell am I going to do about you?” he whispered.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The next morning Mary woke in a hospital bed.

  “I hate hospital beds,” she murmured. “People die in hospital beds.”

  Faye appeared next to her bed, her angled face sad and wistful. “Well, yes, but people die in theaters too,” Faye said. “And you’re not going to stop going to plays or movies are you?”

  Mary smiled. “No, I guess not.”

  “I’m so sorry Rodney did this to you,” she whispered. “I had no idea...”

  “I don’t think anyone knew he was this troubled,” Mary said.

  “If I hadn’t pushed him, taunted him,” she said. “Maybe he would have been a different person.”

  “Or maybe he would have cracked earlier,” Mary reasoned. “Besides, he didn’t just mention you when he was ranting about people not letting him be in charge. And you gave him a chance.”

  Faye glided across the room and looked out the window. “Will you stop being nice to me,” she said. “I don’t think I can take it.”

  “I have a confession to make,” Mary said.

  “Do I look like a priest?” Faye grumbled.

  Mary laughed. “No, you don’t, but you’re going to hear it anyway. I like you Faye McMullen. I’d like to be your friend.”

  Faye sniffed back a tear. “Oh, sure, easy to say to the dead person,” she replied.

  “Well, in my line of work, dead does not necessarily mean gone,” Mary reminded her.

  Faye moved back to her bedside. “It kind of sucks that I learn to be a human being after I’m dead,” she said.

  “I think you were a human being before you died,” Mary said. “You just had your own unique way of doing it.”

  This time Faye laughed. “I like the way you phrase things, Mary.”

  She started to slowly pace across the room. “I need you to make a call for me,” she said. “I need you to call Benjamin and tell him to bring my will along with him. I think I still need to make some amends before I can move on.”

  Within an hour, the meeting was set up in Mary’s hospital room. She had also called Bradley to be an additional witness. He arrived first, carrying a bag under his arm. “I brought you some contraband,” he said, pulling out a bottle of Diet Pepsi.

  Mary grinned. “Much better than flowers.”

  Benjamin arrived a short time later, briefcase in hand. “I must say, Miss O’Reilly, I find this request for a meeting most unusual,” he commented.

  “Well, Benjamin, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” she replied. “But before we begin our meeting, I have one question for you. Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “Ghosts, Miss O’Reilly?” his eyebrows raised along with the pitch of his voice.

  “Ask him about the time we went to the Adirondacks for a company retreat and he forgot his suitcase and ended up borrowing some of my clothing,” Faye suggested with an evil snicker. “That ought to bring him down from his high horse.”

  Mary smiled. “Benjamin, whether or not you find this believable, I need to let you know that Faye McMullen is in this room with us. To verify her presence, she asked me to remind you about the time you went to the Adirondacks for a retreat and you borrowed some of her clothing.”

  “It was nothing but a pair of sweats and she knows it,” he said, a blush spreading across his face. “Leave it to Faye to put me in the worst possible...”

  He stared at Mary. “Only Faye would know about that,” he said, and then he looked around the room. “Faye, are you really here?”

  “No, I’m on a beach in St. Croix, you dunderhead,” she snapped.

  “Faye wants me to assure you that she is, indeed, here,” she said.

  This time Benjamin smiled. “Miss O’Reilly, if you truly want me to believe that Faye is here, you need to repeat what she says without translating it to polite conversation. I’ve dealt with Faye for too many years to be put off by her comments.”

  Mary sighed. “She said, ‘No, I’m on a beach in St. Croix, you dunderhead.’” Mary repeated.

  Benjamin’s eyes widened in awe. “She really is here,” he said. “What does she want me to do?”

  “Tell him to pull out the will,” Faye said. “We’ve got a lot of changes to make before I can rest.”

  An hour later, the will had a list of bequeaths for many of the non-profit organizations in town, including a new performing arts scholarship for the local community college. “Make sure Amy is the first recipient of that one, Benjamin,” Faye had requested.

  It also had listed Carl White as her major heir. “He’s not going to be happy about this,” Benjamin said. “He’s a man who sticks to his principles.”

  “He really didn’t seem to want any money,” Bradley agreed.

  “I’ll handle him,” Faye said and Mary repeated to Benjamin and Bradley.

  Finally, it was time for the attorney to leave. At Faye’s request, he left a copy of the changed will in the hospital room and took the original with him. “I want you to know, Faye McMullen, that I figured you out a long time ago,” he said. “You’re as tough as nails on the outside, but you have a soft heart.”

  “Tell him he has a soft head if he thinks that,” she snapped, her eyes misting with tears.

  “She said thank you, Benjamin,” Mary said.

  Benjamin chuckled. “Miss O’Reilly, you’re doing it again.”

  He looked around the room once again. “Faye, I don’t know where you are. But I want you to listen. First, I do not have a soft head...”

  Faye laughed.

  “And second,” he continued. “You will always be considered a cherished friend. God Speed, Faye.”

  He left the room after saying good-bye to Mary and Bradley. Faye glided to the window to hide her tears. “Well, isn’t this a red-letter day,” she sniffed. “The dead girl makes two friends in one day.”

  A knock on the door prevented Mary’s response. “Come in,” she called.

  Carl White came into the room, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. “I heard about Rodney and I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am,” he said. “If I had known he was unstable...”

  “No one knew,” Mary said. “And this was not your fault.”

  “Nevertheless,” he said, placing the bouquet on the table next to her bed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Ask him what he thinks of me and don’t you dare let him know I’m here in the room,” Faye said.

  “So, tell me, Carl, how did you feel about Faye?” Mary asked.

  Carl walked over to the window and Mary marveled at how his movements mirrored Faye’s.

  “She was a tough lady,” he finally said. “And she wasn’t above using blackmail to get her way. But, at least where I was concerned, most of the time, the things she wanted to happen were good for you. I think her pushiness was her way of showing love.”

  Faye wiped a tear that had slipped down her cheek.

  “Of course, God knows she would never be a diplomat,” he laughed. “And she would have never won Miss Congeniality, but I think she was fair, if harsh, and devoted to the things that mattered to her.”

  He turned to Mary and Bradley, astonishment on his face. “I actually think I loved her,” he said.

  “Damn,” Faye said, wiping at more tears. “He’s nothing but a wimp. I should have been meaner. Tell him about the will, that’ll make him mad.”

  “Carl, we were just me
eting with Mr. Middlebury, Faye’s lawyer,” she said. “And Faye made some changes to her will that affect you.”

  “I already said I didn’t want any of her money,” he said.

  “She left you twenty million dollars,” Mary said.

  Carl immediate sat in the closest chair, his face mirroring his shock. “Twenty million?”

  “Twenty million?” he repeated.

  “Ha, let’s see him turn that down,” Faye crowed.

  Carl dropped his head into his hands. “How do I turn that down?” he asked. “That could change my life, the lives of my children. How do I walk away from that?”

  “She added some stipulations to the will about this bequeath,” Bradley said. “You are required to purchase enough stock in McMullen Industries to make you a voting member of the board and, if you choose, you can have the position of CEO.”

  “CEO?” he asked. “But I’m just an accountant.”

  “A large portion of the money will be held in a trust fund for your children,” Mary said. “It will be held in a blind trust and Mr. Middlebury will take care of it for you.”

  “And finally,” Bradley said. “An actor will be hired to come to your house and announce that you have won the money, so no one will ever be suspicious that Faye McMullen was your birth mother.”

  “Damn,” Carl said, wiping his eyes. “She really did love me, didn’t she?”

  Faye stood at the window, her tear-filled eyes on her son and nodded. “Yes, she really did.”

  “Yes,” Mary repeated. “She really did.”

  Faye glided over to Mary. “I think it’s time for my final curtain call,” she said. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Good-bye, Faye,” Mary whispered.

  Faye walked past her son and placed a kiss on the top of his head. “I love you,” she whispered and then she faded into the light.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  The sun reflecting off the snow and shining through the kitchen window was so bright it almost hurt Mary’s eyes. She took a moment and stood next to the window with her eyes closed, feeling the sun warm her face. It felt so good to soak it up.

  A heavy thump on her front door brought a smile to her face and, without a shred of regret; she hurried from the window to answer the door. Andy Brennan and two of his older brothers stood on her porch, their sleds at their sides.