Darkness Exposed - a Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery

by Terri Reid

  “What have you been watching, The Waltons?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Aye, I was a wee bit sad when you dinna yell good-night to me.”

  Laughing, she picked up two of the platters and carried them to the table. “Well, I hope both of you men are hungry.”

  Andy threw off his coat and scooted onto a chair at the table. “I sure am.”

  Ian carried the bowl of oatmeal and the bacon to the table and sat next to Andy. “Would you have some porridge?” he asked, offering him the oatmeal.

  “Really, this is porridge?” he asked, looking at the thick pasty brown substance, “It kind of looks like oatmeal.”

  Grinning, he scooped a portion out and plopped it into a smaller bowl. “It is oatmeal,” he said, “Scottish oatmeal.”

  Mary watched Andy glance around the table, looking for something. “What do you need?”

  “Brown sugar and raisins,” he replied, “For the oatmeal.”

  “You’re not going to be ruining a good pot of porridge with sugar, are you?”

  “Ruining it?” Andy asked Ian.

  “Aye,” he said. “All you need is a bit of salt and a spoon.”

  “Salt?” Mary asked, wrinkling her nose. “Salt? That’s disgusting.”

  “It’s traditional,” he argued, folding his arms across his chest.

  “Scots people eat weird food,” Andy said solemnly.

  “We do not,” Ian argued.

  Mary got up and got the brown sugar and raisins from the cupboard. “Well, you do eat haggis,” she said.

  “What’s haggis?” Andy asked.

  Ian looked stunned. “You don’t like Haggis?”

  Mary handed the items to Andy and sat down. Then she leaned forward towards him and said, “Haggis is sheep stomach.”

  “Gross,” he said, as he liberally sprinkled brown sugar on his porridge. “Do you really eat that?”

  Ian leaned over towards Andy. “Aye, but only to gross out my brothers,” he said.

  “Cool,” Andy replied. “Can we make some?”

  Laughing, Ian patted Andy on the shoulder. “Aye, I think we need to make a big batch so we can share.”

  Twenty minutes later, after Andy had eaten more food than both Mary and Ian, he looked at the clock and sighed. “I s’pose I need to go home now, mom said I wasn’t to make a nuisance of myself,” he said.

  “Well, you can tell your mom that you weren’t at all a nuisance, you were a great help,” Mary said. “How could we have eaten all that oatmeal if not for you?”

  “Mary, it wasn’t oatmeal, it was porridge,” he corrected her.

  “Aye, Mary it was porridge,” Ian added.

  “Well then, you tell your mother that you ate genuine Scottish porridge for breakfast,” Mary added, helping Andy button up his coat.

  “Can you come out later or do you have to take care of Ian?”

  Mary chuckled. “Perhaps we could invite Ian to come out too.”

  Andy turned to him. “Ian, do you want to come out and play?”

  “Well, I wouldna mind a walk in the fresh air,” he confessed. “I was cooped up in an airplane all day and my lungs are crying for fresh air.”

  “Do you ice skate?” he asked.

  “Aye, but I dinna think to bring mine along.”

  “Oh, no problem,” Mary said. “I keep extra pairs of skates here for when my brothers visit. I’m sure we’ll find a pair that will fit you.”

  “Then I’ll be joining you, Andy my lad,” he said.

  “Okay, great,” Andy said rushing to the door. “I’ll tell my brothers. We’ll be back in a little bit, okay? I’ll tell them you lived in a castle. This will be so cool.”

  Andy hurried out the door and pulled it closed behind him.

  “He’s quite a lad,” Ian said, “Wears you out just watching him.”

  “I know,” Mary laughed. “If I had half his energy, I’d be happy.”

  Mary stood, stacked the dishes on top of each other and started to move to the sink, when Ian stood up and blocked the way. He took the dishes from her hands, placed them back on the table and put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Tell me about the hospital,” he said. “And the bad guy Andy spoke of. Are you in danger?”

  “I was working on a case last week,” she said. “And I got in a tussle with the bad guy. Really, it was no big deal.”

  “Yeah, no big deal if you’re into electric shock treatment,” Mike said, appearing next to Mary.

  Ian, who was also able to see ghosts, jumped. But Mary was far too used to this behavior to react.

  Mike Richards, a former fireman, was now a ghost. He and Mary met while she was investigating a serial killer who poisoned men who didn’t return her affections. Mike had been one of her victims. But now Mike was a bit of an enigma. Generally, when a case was solved, the ghosts were able to move on to the next life. But, for some reason, Mike didn’t move on. Instead, he became Mary’s friend and confidant.

  “Mike,” Ian choked, hoping his heart would settle back to a regular beat. “Do you always just appear like that?”

  Mike shrugged. “Yeah, it’s pretty much how I do it,” he said. “I figured if only my head showed up it might freak Mary out.”

  “I can understand that,” Ian said. “Now, tell me about the electric shock treatment.”

  “I got some bruises, a couple of scrapes and some burns,” she said. “The doctors released me from the hospital. I’m fine. Really.”

  “Should you be going skating?” he asked.

  She put her hands on her hips and stared defiantly at him. “Try and stop me,” she said.

  Ian looked her over, stood up and picked up the dishes. “I’m a far wiser man than that, Mary O’Reilly.”

  Chapter Two

  Thirty minutes later, Andy, his two older brothers, Colin and Derik, and his eight year-old sister, Maggie, were at the front door, ready to escort them to the park. Mary almost didn’t notice the freezing temperatures as they walked down the street. Ian kept them all entertained with his stories about ghostly encounters in Scotland. She was pretty sure she didn’t want to visit the underground city of Edinburgh. His stories about the apparitions and spirits that inhabited those dark caverns made her blood run cold.

  “So, I dinna understand,” Ian said, as the children ran ahead to put on their skates. “You deal with ghosts every day, and yet, you dinna want to come tour the underground city with me.”

  “I help ghosts who need to have a problem solved or something finished up before they can move on,” she explained. “They are just regular people who died in a way that has left them waiting for someone to tie up their loose ends. They aren’t malevolent spirits who want to hurt people; they are usually just confused, frightened, sad or lonely. Sometimes they don’t even realize they’re dead.”

  “Ah, so you’re not working with scary specters and ghoulies that go bump in the night,” he said, nodding his head in understanding, “But lost souls looking for peace.”

  She nodded, “Yes, that’s it exactly. I don’t want to deal with demons or evil spirits; I don’t have those kinds of skills. I just want to help those sent to me.”

  “But you believe there are those kind… the evil ones… about us?”

  Considering her answer for a moment, she waited before she finally spoke. “I’ve seen too many people, living people, who do such terrible things that I can’t deny it. Evil is out there and it’s strong. But I know that good is stronger. So that’s where I put my efforts.”

  “You’re an amazing lass, Mary O’Reilly,” he said.

  She smiled. “Wait until you see me on ice skates.”

  Less than ten minutes later, Mary was extending her hand to Ian and being pulled out of her third snow drift of the morning.

  “Well, I wouldna believed it, had you warned me,” Ian said with a smirk. “You are truly amazing on the ice. The likes of which I’ve truly never seen before in me life.”

  Mary dusted herself
off. “This time it wasn’t my fault,” she protested. “There was a bump in the ice.”

  He nodded. “Ah, yes, I see it there,” he said, looking over to the slight rise in the ice. “Truly ‘tis a hazard. Someone should place a warning light near it.”

  “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Oh, no, not I? I wouldna dare.”

  She shook her head. “Keep it up and I’ll make haggis for dinner tonight.”

  “Mary! Mary! I mean Miss O’Reilly,” Andy Brennan, Mary’s ten-year old neighbor called as he skated up to her. “I saw you skate. That was awesome.”

  Mary smirked at Ian. “Thank you, Andy.”

  “You did that on purpose, right?” he asked.

  Ian coughed loudly into his glove and Mary glared at him.

  “Well,” she began and then sighed, knowing she had to be honest with him. “No, I didn’t, I tripped on the bump in the ice.”

  “What bump?” Andy demanded, looking around the area.

  “That one, over there,” Mary pointed out the offending ridge.

  “Gosh, Miss O’Reilly, that’s really not much of a…,” Andy stopped once Ian had sent him a meaningful look. “I mean, that would have made me fall too, for sure.”

  Mary shook her head. “Andy, what has your mother told you about lying?”

  “Well, if it’s for a good cause, like telling someone they look good even if they look like a jerk, it’s okay. So, good skating Miss O’Reilly.”

  This time Ian didn’t even bother to cover the laughter.

  “Thanks, Andy. Thanks a lot!”

  “Sure, anytime,” he grinned. “So, want to play crack the whip with us?”

  “Crack the whip?” Mary asked, “Only if I get to be on the end.”

  “Oh, no,” Ian said. “You’ve just recently come from the hospital. You’ll be doing harm to yourself.”

  “I’ve played crack the whip since I was a baby,” she said. “I have never once slipped off the end of the line.”

  “I really don’t like this idea,” Ian said.

  “Come on,” Mary laughed. “It’ll be fun.”

  They joined a group of eight other skaters, Ian in the front and Mary at the end. They began to circle the rink, slowly gaining speed and momentum. Mary felt the wind brush against her face and breathed in the cold, crisp pine-scented air. She was holding hands with Maggie, who was chuckling delightedly as they spun in a giant round. Mary laughed at sheer joy of the sound.

  Suddenly, Colin started to move past Ian and change directions of the line. Mary could feel the whole line react with a sharp jerk. Ian sped up, trying to regain the head, but Colin took it as a challenge and jerked the line in the opposite direction.

  Mary looked down at Maggie whose face had changed from delight to trepidation. Her little gloved hand was beginning to slip out of her brother’s hand on the other side. Mary knew she only had one choice.

  “Maggie, I’m going to let go,” she said. “Then you grab Andy’s arm with both of your hands to be safe. Okay?”

  Maggie nodded slowly. Mary took a deep breath and let go just as the line cracked again. Her first thought was amazement at the sheer speed she was traveling towards the large drifts of snow on the other side of the rink. Her second thought, before she headed toward the inevitable crash once again was, “Well crap!”

  Chapter Three

  Freeport Police Chief Bradley Alden popped open the can of Diet Pepsi and drank deeply, hoping the caffeine would kick start his system. He hadn’t slept well the night before. During the early part of the evening he had dreamt about Mary O’Reilly and had finally realized through the dream she hadn’t lied to him about his wife, Jeannine.

  Jeannine had been missing for over eight years, after a breakin at their home in Sycamore, Illinois. Bradley had spent the better part of that time searching across the United States for any clue that would lead him to his wife. He didn’t know if she was dead or alive, or if she had been taken or had chosen to run away from him and his job as a police officer. Finally, when he had run out of money and realized he was no closer to the truth than he had been eight years ago, he applied for the job in Freeport and tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered life.

  And that’s when he met Mary O’Reilly.

  Tossing the now empty can into the trash can, he pulled a second from the fridge. Mary O’Reilly, he thought, he should have run away when he first met her.

  He had actually met Mary before he knew who she was. They both had a habit of running at the park early in the morning. They ended up with an unspoken competition, racing each other through the park and then separating at the conclusion, neither uttering a sound. He had heard rumors at the office about the crazy psychic who thought she could see and hear ghosts. He already had the woman pictured in his mind; a middle-aged, caftan-wearing, earth mother with a copious number of pendants and crystals resting on her ample bosom. But when Stanley, the owner of Wagner’s Office Products, had introduced him to Mary and he realized she was the mystery woman from the park, he was stunned.

  In the next few months, as she proved not only her competence and courage, but also the truth about her ability to communicate with ghosts, Bradley found himself admiring the professional and falling in love with the woman.

  He looked at the toppled chair on the kitchen floor. He remembered whipping his jacket at it when he got home from his middle-of-the-night drive to Mary’s. He walked over, picked up his jacket, set the chair aright and sat in it, cradling his head in his hands. “What the hell was I thinking?” he muttered.

  When he had woken from the first dream and realized that he had unfairly judged Mary, he donned jeans, his jacket and a pair of house slippers and had driven over to her house. If his car had not been parked in the garage, he might have remembered the snow and ice storm. Once there he was definitely reminded about it as he slid and scrambled his way up and across Mary’s porch. He finally made it to Mary’s door only to have it opened by a strange man with a Scottish accent, looking quite at home. He could recall the conversation perfectly.

  “Where’s Mary?” he had asked.

  The stranger paused for a moment and then met his eyes. “She’s upstairs, getting ready for bed,” he said.

  Bradley felt a hit to his solar plexus.

  “Getting ready for bed,” he repeated, “with you here?”

  Smiling widely, the man nodded, “Aye, I was just on my way upstairs when I heard you on the porch.”

  “But, she’s getting ready for bed,” he repeated, trying to make sense out of the statement.

  “Aye, it’s been a long day. I dinnae think she was expecting you, we were both looking forward to bed.”

  “You were both,” he choked on his words, “both looking forward to bed?”

  “Aye. Would you bide a moment whilst I fetch her?” he had asked, nodding his head in the direction of the stairs.

  Bradley had shaken his head. “No,” he said. “It seems that it was later than I thought. Much, much later.”

  He had turned and slowly slid across the deck to the post.

  “Could I tell her who called?” the man had called after him.

  “No one,” Bradley had replied, grasping the banister and climbing slowly down the stairs. “No one at all.”

  Bradley lifted his head slowly and his eye caught sight of one of his slippers lying on the top of the fireplace mantle. He remembered throwing them across the room too. He walked across the room. There, next to the errant slipper, was a dried and brittle piece of mistletoe. Picking it up, he twirled it in his fingers, one lone white berry still attached to the stem. It had been a gift to him from the ghost of a young boy he and Mary had helped during the holidays. Hanging above them in Mary’s kitchen, it had given him the motivation he needed to pull Mary into his arms and finally tell her how he felt. He could still see her looking up at him, her eyes filled with love and wonder.

  Another vision flashed across his mind, a visio
n that had haunted his dreams for the remainder of the night and had left him frustrated and angry. Mary in someone else’s arms, laughing, smiling and looking up at someone else with those same eyes filled with love. His Mary. Lost. And he had no one to blame but himself.

  He started to tighten his hand into a fist, but felt the delicate leaves begin to crumble and carefully placed the mistletoe back on the mantle. The final white berry dislodged and rolled across the slick surface. Catching it before it fell to the floor, he held it in his hand for a moment and finally dropped it into the shirt pocket of his uniform, next to his heart. No matter what, he would always cherish the time they spent together.

  He looked at the other object on the mantle; a silver framed photo of Jeannine and him on their wedding day. He picked up the photo and looked into her eyes.

  She was happy, he thought, and we loved each other.

  Breathing a heavy sigh of remorse, he shook his head and whispered, “Jeannine, I’m so sorry I failed you. And now I’ve failed Mary too.”