The Restorer

by Amanda Stevens

  “You have a business to run and there is no reason in the world for you to put yourself in a financial bind when I have nothing except time on my hands,” Lynrose insisted and my mother backed her up.

  On my last night there, Papa had left the house right after dinner, and I walked down to Rosehill to say goodbye. I inhaled the roses as I made my way along the walkway. He was at the angels waiting for their cold faces to come alive in the warm glow of the setting sun.

  After the fleeting animation, he turned, his gaze going past me to the gate. I knew he was looking for the ghost. His dread was tangible as dusk drew near.

  “Have you seen him again, Papa?”

  “I’ve been seeing him more and more lately.”

  The revelation made my blood go cold. “What does he want?”

  Papa turned and the glitter of tears on his face shocked me into silence. I’d never known him to show emotion. Like me, he mostly lived inside his own head.

  And then it came to me. I put a hand to my mouth. “Papa…do you think he’s come back for Mama?”

  He closed his eyes and shuddered. “I wish I knew, child. I wish I knew.”

  It was a long, lonely drive back home to Charleston. On the way, I checked my messages. One from Ethan Shaw, one from Temple and none from Devlin.

  Ethan had invited me to a small gathering at the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies on Friday to celebrate his father’s seventieth birthday.

  As I let myself into the darkened house, I couldn’t help wondering if my mother would still be with us for her next birthday.

  THIRTY-SIX

  On the morning of Dr. Shaw’s party, I woke up lethargic and out of sorts. I wondered if I was coming down with something or if all that worry over my mother had taken a physical toll. A few hours of hard labor at the cemetery left me weak-kneed and shivering.

  By midafternoon, I called it a day and came home to soak in a hot bath and sip tea, which did nothing to help. Grabbing bottles of vitamin C and ibuprofen from the medicine cupboard, I noticed in the back the packet of Essie’s Life Everlasting.

  Good for what ails you, she’d said. According to Dr. Shaw, it was harvested from a plant in the daisy family and had the same effect as a vitamin shot. Just what the doctor ordered. I didn’t expect the herb to work miracles, but I did believe in the medicinal value of natural remedies that had been around for ages.

  I brewed the leaves and carried a cup with me to bed. Propped against the headboard, I sipped tentatively. The tea had both a sweet and acrid taste. Not at all unpleasant. I finished half a cup, set it aside and slid down under the covers, where I promptly fell asleep.

  When I woke up, I felt much better. Either the Life Everlasting had done its job or a long, dreamless nap was all I’d needed in the first place.

  Outside, dusk had fallen and the air had cooled. I lay for a few moments, luxuriating in my newfound well-being, as I finished the now tepid tea. Then I crawled out of bed, slipped into a black dress and arrived at the Charleston Institute for Parapsychology Studies fashionably late.

  The house was all lit up, the doors thrown open to the mild night, giving me a glimpse of what the grand old antebellum must have looked like in her glory days. If I closed my eyes, I could almost hear the faint strains of a fiddle and the swish of hoopskirts gliding across the dance floor.

  The same blonde let me in through the side entrance, then disappeared down the hallway with my gift—a replica deck of fifteenth-century Visconti-Sforza hand-painted tarot cards. As I stepped into a roomful of people I’d never set eyes on, my first inclination was to turn around and go back out the same way I’d come in. But then I spotted Temple conversing with someone across the room and she waved me over.

  “I didn’t know you’d be here,” I said as I made my way through the crowd. “Did you drive all the way down here for the party?”

  “I had business in Charleston, anyway.” She grabbed a glass of champagne from a nearby tray and handed it to me. I hadn’t seen her since the day of the exhumation. She looked very different tonight, in a slinky silver dress that shimmered like liquid mercury in the light.

  Her companion turned then and I recognized Daniel Meakin.

  “You remember Daniel?” Temple said, barely suppressing her disdain.

  “Yes, of course. It’s good to see you again.”

  “You, as well,” he said with a warm smile. “I haven’t seen you around in the archives lately.”

  “There’s no need now that Oak Grove has been put on hold. I’ve moved on to another cemetery.”

  He frowned. “That’s a shame. I had such high hopes for that restoration. Do you have any idea when you’ll be able to return?”

  Before I could respond, Temple squeezed my arm. “Have you seen Rupert yet?”

  “I…just got here.” She knew that because she’d seen me walk in.

  Looping her arm through mine, she pulled me gently away. “We really should find him and offer our best wishes. I think I saw him go into his office. Will you excuse us, Daniel?”

  “Oh…of course.” He looked a little forlorn as we walked off.

  “I thought I’d never get away from him,” Temple muttered. “He latched onto me as soon as I walked in.”

  “Shush. He’ll hear you.”

  “I don’t care. He gives me the creeps.”

  “So you’ve mentioned.” I glanced over my shoulder. “I think he’s kind of sweet. Have you ever noticed the way he holds his left arm? His scars must bother him constantly.”

  “Scars?” She looked at me meaningfully. “As in more than one?”

  “I saw them one day in the archives room when his shirtsleeve slipped up. They crisscross back and forth over the vein, like he’s tried many times but never gone quite deep enough to succeed. It’s really sad when you think about it. Has he no family?”

  “I don’t know a lot about his background. I seem to recall someone mentioning once that he was at Emerson by the kindness of some well-to-do relative. I really didn’t pay that much attention to Daniel. He was one of those people that just faded into the woodwork.”

  Like me, I thought.

  “How is it that you didn’t know Mariama at Emerson?” I asked. “I can’t imagine her fading into the woodwork. Devlin, either, for that matter.”

  “Devlin was at Emerson? He must have been behind me. I didn’t mingle a lot with underclassmen. By my junior year, I pretty much kept to the same circle of people with mutual interests.”

  “Like Camille?”

  She closed her eyes briefly. “I still can’t believe it. We had our differences, but I never would have wished something like that on her.”

  “When was the last time you saw her?”

  She gave me an annoyed look. “Oh, no, you don’t. We’re not doing the inquisition thing tonight. This is a party. And if you don’t mind, I’d just as soon not think about what happened to poor Camille. Because if it happened to her…” She broke off on a shudder.

  We paused at the end of the hallway where Dr. Shaw’s office was located. The sounds of a bitter quarrel emanated through a crack in the pocket doors, and Temple and I exchanged glances. Before we could retreat, the doors slid open and Ethan strode through. He stopped cold when he saw us.

  “I didn’t know anyone was out here.”

  “We just came up,” Temple said smoothly.

  Relief flashed across his face. It was obvious he and his father had been arguing and just as apparent that he hadn’t wanted to be overheard.

  “We’ve come to wish Rupert a happy birthday,” Temple added.

  Ethan waved us in. “Perhaps you can persuade him to come out and join the festivities,” he said on a note of irritation. “He’s being as petulant as a child about this whole thing.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  While Temple went in to find Dr. Shaw, I remained in the hallway to have a word with Ethan.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  He looked ann
oyed. “He’s been in a state for weeks now. One of his former assistants is publishing a book using Father’s research without giving him credit.”

  “That would be upsetting, particularly if this assistant stole the material.”

  “How did you know about that?” Ethan asked in surprise.

  “Last time I saw your father, he said someone had been slowly leeching his life’s work.”

  “Yes, well, as I said, he’s got himself all worked up about it. He wants to sue, but lawsuits are expensive. Father’s never had to worry about money so he doesn’t have a clue. But enough about that.” His smile seemed to take a bit of effort. “How’s your mother?”

  “Her treatment is going well and she’s in good spirits. Much better than I’ve been, actually. I’m trying to remedy that, though. I thought an outing might do me good.”

  “You do look more rested than the last time I saw you.”

  I tried to remember when that was. At Oak Grove, hours before we’d discovered Camille’s body. He’d told me about the day Mariama and Shani had died. And later Devlin had come to my house and kissed me, but I tried not to think about that.

  Now that the office doors were open, a steady stream of people filed in to see Dr. Shaw. “I should go say hello.”

  Ethan nodded. “Like I said, he’s in a mood, but I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”

  But Dr. Shaw seemed fine to me. I saw nothing of the disheveled, suspicious man who’d been convinced someone was stealing his life’s work. I wanted to ask him about that, but a celebration was hardly the place to bring up something so obviously distressing.

  He watched me with keen eyes as he swirled brandy in a glass. “How have you been, Amelia? Any more events that I should know about?”

  “Thankfully, no. No more shadow beings, no more psychic vampires. My life is pretty uneventful at the moment, paranormally speaking.”

  Someone had come up beside him, and when Dr. Shaw turned to shake hands, I saw the silver spark of his ring. I’d never been able to make it out before, but after seeing Daniel Meakin’s drawing, it was so clearly a snake coiled around a talon.

  The same symbol that Devlin wore around his neck.

  I tore my focus from the ring and studied the faces of those gathered around Dr. Shaw. They were of all ages, welldressed, educated, intellectuals. Emerson’s finest. I wondered how many of them secretly wore that same symbol somewhere on his or her person.

  Murmuring my excuses, I slipped out of the office and wandered down the hallway, feeling strangely claustrophobic in that house and inexplicably paranoid. No one there had any reason to want to harm me, but I couldn’t help remembering what Dr. Shaw had said about the killer that day. He could be someone in our midst. Someone we least expect—

  A hand fell on my shoulder and I whirled, hand to my heart. “Ethan! You startled me.”

  “Sorry,” he said contritely. “You’re not trying to sneak away already, are you?”

  “I’m afraid so. Unfortunately, I have to be up at the crack of dawn so I can beat the heat.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. But I do understand. I have an early day, as well.”

  I glanced at him with interest. “Are you working on a new case?”

  “Yes. Some remains were uncovered just today.”

  “At Oak Grove?” I asked anxiously.

  “No, not Oak Grove. Nothing new on that front, thankfully.”

  “I’ve been wondering…have you been able to identify the skeleton Devlin and I found in the chamber? I’ve read nothing about it in the paper.”

  “We don’t have a name, but I have identified some interesting characteristics.”

  “Can you tell me what they are?”

  He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I can do better than that depending on how squeamish you are.”

  I made a face. “As long as it doesn’t involve spiders, I should be okay.”

  “No spiders, I promise. Drop by the morgue at MUSC tomorrow afternoon and I’ll show you what I’ve found.”

  The morgue. Maybe I was just a tad squeamish after all.

  “Is that allowed?”

  “You’re a consultant on the Oak Grove case, right? It said so in the paper.”

  “That’s a very loose interpretation.”

  “It should suffice. Call me when you get there and I’ll come out and let you in. In the meantime…” He straightened. “If you’re set on leaving so early, let me at least walk you to your car. There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

  I went off to say good-night to Temple and then met back up with Ethan at the door. He seemed preoccupied as we walked around to the parking area, and I wondered if he was still upset by the argument with his father.

  “You wanted to talk to me?”

  “It’s about John.”

  That was unexpected. And the very mention of Devlin’s name took the wind right out of me. “What about him?”

  Ethan propped a hand on the car door. “Have you seen him lately?”

  “No, not in days.” He hadn’t called me and I hadn’t called him. I was still trying to convince myself it was for the best.

  “He looks terrible, Amelia. I think the investigation is taking a toll. And this time of year is difficult for him, anyway. It’s coming up on the anniversary.”

  I felt a little catch in my throat. “I didn’t know.”

  “That’s probably why you haven’t heard from him. The guilt…” He made a helpless gesture with his hand. “He spends far too much time in his own gloomy company. I worry about him. He needs to get out more.”

  I thought about the feminine voice I’d heard in the background that night on the phone and wondered if Devlin got out more than Ethan realized. Still, I didn’t want to minimize his concern, especially now that I knew the guilt Devlin carried with him.

  “I tried to get him to come here tonight,” Ethan said. “But this is the last place he’d want to be.”

  “He doesn’t seem to have much regard for the work done here,” I said carefully.

  “It’s not just that. This is where he met Mariama.”

  “At the Institute?”

  “It wasn’t the Institute then. It was just our home. Mariama lived with us for a while. And John was my father’s protégé.”

  “Protégé?” I stared at him in shock. “As in…protégé? But he doesn’t even believe in your father’s work.”

  “Not now, maybe. But there was a time when he was an avid investigator.”

  I couldn’t even wrap my head around that notion. “We are talking about the same man.”

  Ethan smiled. “We are.”

  “What happened? He’s so dismissive now.”

  Ethan shrugged. “He gradually grew away from it, as most of us did back then. We had graduate school and careers to think of. It really did begin to seem like a game we were playing. Except to my father, of course.” I heard a shade of bitterness in his voice that made me wonder again about that argument. “On the night of the accident, John came here to see Father. He wanted help contacting Mariama’s and Shani’s spirits. He pleaded with Father to help him open a door so that he could cross over and see them one last time.”

  I could barely comprehend that level of desperation. It hurt me to even think about it. “That’s…”

  “I know. I think by that point he was very nearly mad with grief. He became violent and uncontrollable. Called Father a fraud and worse. Father thought he would have to call someone for help, but John finally left of his own accord. That’s when he disappeared. No one knew where he’d gone off to. I think we all feared the worst. Then we began hearing those rumors that he’d been admitted to a private sanitarium. It was probably just talk. People love to embellish. But John did come back a changed man. He got better after a time, but when I saw him yesterday…” Ethan trailed off worriedly. “I think it’s that house.”

  “What house?”

  “Mariama’s house. Ever since the accident, he’s been r
enting a place on Sullivan’s Island, but he never got rid of her house. It’s a gorgeous old Queen Anne right off Beaufain. Mariama was crazy about it. I went by there the other day. The garden was well tended, the porch had a fresh coat of blue paint. I think he’s moved back in.”

  “Maybe he was just ready to go back home.”

  “Maybe,” Ethan said, but he didn’t sound at all convinced.

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I don’t quite know. I just thought…here.” He pressed a piece of paper into my palm. “It’s the address. Just in case you’re so inclined.”

  I was not so inclined. I told myself I was going straight home, maybe have another cup of Essie’s Life Everlasting and go straight to bed. I had a long day at the cemetery ahead of me tomorrow and I needed to rest up.

  And I think I would have done exactly that had I not seen Devlin coming out of the palmist’s house across the street.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  I had just driven around the Institute and was about to pull onto the street when I saw him on Madam Know-It-All’s front porch.

  They had just come out of the house, Devlin and a woman—the palmist, I presumed—and though I couldn’t see her features as clearly as his underneath the porch light, I knew she was attractive. I could tell by the way she carried herself. Really gorgeous women have an air about them. Temple and Camille both had it. Mariama’s ghost still had it.

  Devlin appeared to be in the process of leaving, but then the woman touched his shoulder and he spun back around. There was nothing particularly sexual about the interaction, but I did sense some intimacy in the way he peered down into her upturned face and a measure of urgency when he took her by the arms. My window was open, but I couldn’t hear a word of their conversation, no matter how hard I strained.

  I wasn’t proud of myself for trying to eavesdrop, nor for easing onto the street behind Devlin’s car when he drove off a few minutes later. I didn’t know what had come over me. I hadn’t been raised like this. Discretion and decorum went hand in hand in our household, and I had a sudden vision of how appalled my mother would be at my behavior. Listening in on private conversations. Following a man home without his knowledge or permission. Her imagined censure made me wince, but it didn’t stop me.