by Terri Reid
Mary shook her head. “No, the children were not forgotten,” Mary replied firmly. “Their mothers never forgot them. And they need to know the truth.”
Shaking her head, the old nun began to fade away. “Sometimes the truth carries too much pain,” she whispered.
“Sometimes you need pain to start the healing process,” Mary countered before the ghost faded away completely.
“You!” an angry voice cried out. “What are you doing here?”
Mary turned to see Mother Superior striding through the cemetery towards her. “You do not belong here,” she continued. “This is private property.”
“I didn’t see a ‘No Trespassing’ sign,” Mary said.
“Well, this is sacred ground,” the nun replied. “Not a tourist venue.”
Mary folded her arms across her chest and rested them on her belly. “It seems more like a crime scene to me,” Mary said, “with the evidence of years of criminal negligence being covered up.”
“You have absolutely no proof,” the nun responded immediately. “And unless you have some kind of warrant, I demand you leave immediately.”
Mary stood her ground for another moment, facing the angry nun, then slowly nodded and walked past her. When she was just behind her she whispered, “It’s going to be a lot harder to destroy this evidence than it is to burn a few records. If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be found purposely impeding an investigation. They do put nuns in jail, you know.”
Chapter Twenty-four
As Mary drove back to her office contemplating the options she had available to get the records, including a brief consideration of breaking and entering, she was interrupted in her musings by another call coming through on her cell phone. “Mary O’Reilly,” she answered, not recognizing the number.
“You’re not in your office,” was the curt response.
She immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Sol Atkinson, and her heart rate increased just a little. She had to admit the man understood the art of intimidation, but she was not going to allow herself to be bullied. “No, I’m not,” she replied evenly. “I’m working on a case.”
“I paid you to be here today,” he countered. “So we could discuss my case.”
“I didn’t agree to anything like that, Mr. Atkinson,” she answered calmly. “And, your check has remained uncashed and on my desk where you placed it.”
“You’re playing games with me,” he said. “And if you don’t change your tune soon, I’ll report you.”
“To whom?” she asked, now amused with his blustering.
“To the Better Business Bureau,” he offered.
She chuckled. “I don’t think my business fits under any of their categories,” she replied.
“Well then, if you’re really a private investigator you have to work under the auspices of the local law enforcement agency,” he said. “How would you like me to report you to the chief of police for fraud?”
As much as she would have loved to tell him that she was married to the chief of police, she knew the only way she would be able to solve Marty’s murder was to play along with the obnoxious bully. “I don’t think we need to get the police involved,” she said. “And I’ve actually been thinking about your case. However, if I take your case there would have to be some stipulations.”
“Like what?” he growled suspiciously.
“I have a colleague,” she began, “who is quite famous in the field of paranormal investigation. If you know anything about the field, you’ve probably heard his name, Professor Ian MacDougal the founder and head of the MacDougal Foundation for Paranormal Research.”
“Um, yeah, of course I’ve heard of the guy,” he replied slowly. “Friend of yours?”
“Ian and I have worked on some cases together,” she answered. “He’s actually here in the States doing some research on haunted houses and I thought he might be interested in having a look at yours. Of course, you’d have to sign some papers allowing him to publish the name and location of your house in his academic journals with the understanding that the information could be picked up by mainstream media.”
“Mainstream media, eh?” he repeated.
“Oh, yes, Ian has quite a following,” she said. “Which is why we have to make sure people understand they could be inundated with people who are interested in the paranormal.”
“Inundated, huh?” he said slowly.
Mary could almost hear the drooling in his voice. She had laid out the perfect bait. Now all she had to do was wait for him to bite.
“Well, I ain’t paying you any extra,” he argued weakly.
“Oh, well, that’s the other thing,” she said. “If Ian’s going to study your house, we can’t accept any payment. That would make his findings look suspicious and we need to maintain an objective and unprejudiced approach.”
“I don’t have to pay you?” he asked incredulously.
“No, not a single penny,” she replied.
“Okay, well then, yeah, I guess your friend can come take a look, too,” he said. “You know, ‘cause he’s sure to find some good stuff, some real good stuff when he’s here at my house. Did I tell you that it’s one of the top ten haunted houses in the country?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact, you did mention that,” she replied, biting back a chuckle. “And I’m sure that information is what piqued Ian’s interest.”
“Well, actually, it’s probably more like the top five or even the top three,” he said, his voice rising with excitement.
“Well, I’ll be sure to let him know,” Mary said. “He’ll be arriving in town this evening and will probably want to set up his equipment tomorrow morning, if that works for you.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there,” he said. “Tomorrow morning is fine.”
“I’ll send you a text tonight when I know what time we’ll arrive,” Mary added. “So, if you could send me the address of your house, I’d appreciate it.”
“Okay, I’ll send it and then wait to hear from you,” he replied and then he disconnected the call.
“The rat has taken the bait,” Mary said softly and suddenly felt that her day had become a whole lot better.
Chapter Twenty-five
“And what do we have here?” Ian asked as he walked into Mary’s office that afternoon and spied her in the back of the room. “Ah dinnae ken when I’ve seen you more beautiful, and that’s saying a lot.”
Hurrying across the room, Mary threw her arms around Ian and hugged him. “It’s so wonderful to see you,” she said.
He returned the hug and then put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back to look at her. “And what, may I ask, have you been up to young lady to get yourself in such a state?” he asked with a grin.
“I’ll never tell,” she replied.
“Well, darling, you don’t have to tell,” he said. “The look on your face and the slight swelling of your belly is telling the story on its own.”
Her smile dropped to a pout. “So, are you saying I look fat?” she asked, lowering her face to cover the twinkle in her eye.
“Ah, no, darling,” Ian quickly replied. “You’re gorgeous, svelte and brimming with beauty.”
She looked up at him and allowed the smile to show. “And you’re a charmer,” she said.
He blew out a sigh of relief. “And you nearly had me beside meself with worry that I’d gone and stuck me foot in me mouth once again,” he said, giving her another hug. “And how are you feeling?”
“Simply wonderful,” she said. “Although Bradley seems a bit more protective of me.”
“As well he should,” Ian said. “Especially when you’re dealing with someone who sounds like he’d do anything to make money.”
“Yes, this fellow is a real winner,” she said. “But before we go into the case, tell me, how are you and Gillian doing?”
The smile on his face was wide and a little goofy. He’s certainly in love, Mary thought.
“It just gets better,” he rep
lied with awe in his voice. “Do you ever worry that it’s just too good to be true and the bottom is going to fall out on you at any moment?”
She nodded. “Yes, I have,” she confessed. “But perhaps that’s the Celtic attitude of always looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
He grinned. “Aye, that’s the truth of it,” he agreed, walking with her over to her desk. He held her chair out for her and pulled up another one so he was seated beside her so they could both view her computer screen. “Now, tell me a little about this case.”
After Mary explained the details, Ian sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, it’s more than a bit ironic that he created a real ghost but the poor ghost didn’t have a clue how to haunt the house.”
Mary nodded. “Poor Marty doesn’t realize what’s going on,” she said. “And I don’t know how he’s going to handle it when he finds out that Sol murdered him. That is, of course, if I’m right about the situation.”
“Aye, and given the facts you’ve shared, I feel you have the right of it,” he replied. “So what’s the next step?”
Mary clicked on another tab and brought up photos of the house in Pearl City. “This is the house,” she said.
“Well, it looks like it should be haunted,” Ian said.
“Yes, it really does,” she agreed. “I thought we could set up some of your equipment, not that it really needs to be all cabled together.”
“Ah, to set the scene,” he said.
Nodding, she flipped to the next picture of the interior of the house. “We could set up cameras, monitors and sensors,” she said. “And then…”
She paused and worried her bottom lip for a moment.
“Yes?” Ian asked.
“Well, I really don't have a plan,” she admitted.
“What?” he exclaimed.
“Not a real plan,” she inserted before he could continue. “I’m thinking we could do some kind of a set up. We could use Mike and maybe Marty if he’s willing to go along with it. We would move things around, get things going and then do something to put Sol into a position where he blurts out that he killed Marty.”
“Okay, partially brilliant idea,” Ian said slowly, “except that you have a man who’s already killed once for profit. What’s to keep him from taking both of us out to keep his secret quiet and add to his house’s ghost collection?”
“Okay, I haven’t figured the plan out that far,” she said.
“Well, that’s an important part to figure,” Ian said. “Vitally important.”
Mary sat back in her chair and sighed. “So, do you have any ideas?” she asked.
“Aye, but I need to talk to Marty and see what he’s willing to do before I share it with you,” he said.
“Okay, tonight after dinner,” Mary said. “I’ll see if I can reach Marty and we can all chat.”
Ian chuckled, leaned over and placed a kiss on Mary’s cheek. “And that’s what I’ve been missing from me life lately,” he said with a grin, “an average night at Mary O’Reilly’s house including dinner and a chat with a dead man.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Mary carried the large tureen of chili back into the kitchen. “Rosie, that was amazing,” she said. “You’re going to have to give me the recipe.”
Rosie, standing at the sink, her arms in soapy water up to her elbows, looked over at Mary and whispered, “Well, my secret is just the right combination of cumin, chili pepper and cocoa.”
“Really? Cocoa?” Mary asked.
“Shhhh,” Rosie whispered back. “That’s just our little secret.”
Mary mimicked locking her lips and throwing away the key. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“No!” a scream erupted from the living room. “Not again.”
Mary and Rosie both looked over in that direction.
“I can’t pay for another stay at your hotel,” Maggie cried. “Please give me a break.”
“Sorry, darling, as cute as you are, the rules are the rules,” Ian said. “You land on my property and you pay up.”
“But if I pay you, I won’t have any more money,” she complained.
“Aye, well, you can always sell me that wee piece of property I’ve had me eye on,” he replied and pointed to a spot on the game board.
“No, don’t sell him that,” Clarissa begged. “If he gets that, he’ll have all three of them and then he’ll start putting houses on them.”
“Not houses, darling, hotels,” Ian replied and added a nefarious laugh.
Bradley leaned over and whispered into Maggie’s ear. She smiled broadly and nodded. “Selling my property is an excellent idea,” she said in her most grown up voice. “But I’m going to sell it to Bradley, not you.”
Ian looked over at Bradley. “So, trying to outsmart me, eh?” he asked in his best bad guy imitation.
“You’re a little dog, not a gangster,” Stanley stated, pointing at Ian’s playing piece. “Start acting like it.”
Ian turned to Maggie and Clarissa and winked. Then he picked up his playing piece and trotted over to one of Stanley’s pieces of property and tilted the dog sideways so it looked like it was urinating on a little red house. “Better?” he asked Stanley.
“You watch your step, you young whippersnapper or I’ll show you what for,” Stanley replied, his eyes twinkling with laughter.
“How? Are you going to thimble me to death?” Ian asked.
While Maggie and Clarissa giggled, Andy just rolled his eyes. “Can’t you guys just play the game like normal people?” he asked.
Ian trotted his little dog around the board to Andy’s marker, tilted it once again and made a streaming sound. Then he looked up at Andy and shook his head. “No, I guess not,” he replied.
“You are so weird,” Andy said, biting back his laughter.
Rosie chuckled and shook her head. “It’s so wonderful to see full grown men taking the time to play with children,” she said to Mary.
“That’s what families do,” Mary replied and then she shrugged. “Well, that’s what my family always did.”
Rosie turned and walked back to the sink. “That’s not what my family did,” she said. “As you know, my father was abusive and my mother left when I was a small child.”
“Rosie, I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I wasn’t thinking.”
With Rosie’s back turned to her, Mary thought she could hear sniffling. Finally Rosie spoke, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t think you will ever understand how important your friendship has been to me,” she said. “You gave me a family. You opened your arms and your heart to me. I searched for acceptance for years, and I finally found it when you became my friend.”
A little overcome by her friend’s emotional outpouring, Mary felt tears form in her eyes. She brushed them away and took a deep breath before she replied. “Rosie, you taught me how to be a good friend and how to laugh off my troubles when I felt overwhelmed,” she said. “You have been my best friend and my example since I’ve been here in Freeport. I never would have made the transition from home to here without you. So, I understand how important this friendship is, because I feel exactly the same way.”
Rosie turned, tears streaming down her cheeks and her arms coated with soap suds, and hugged Mary. They both burst into tears as soap suds dripped from Rosie’s arms, down Mary’s back, and onto the floor.
“What the…?” Ian asked, looking over his shoulder into the kitchen. “They were fine just a few moments ago.”
“Women,” Stanley grumbled, picking up the die and tossing it down for his turn. “Don’t even try to explain ‘em.”
“I think it’s a hormonal thing,” Bradley said. “Something about being pregnant. She does this all the time.”
“Is Rosie pregnant, too?” Clarissa asked Stanley.
Turning red as a beet, Stanley shook his head. “No, she’s not,” he muttered.
“Why not?” Maggie asked. “She’s married.”
Ian grinned a
nd looked at Stanley. “Yes, Stanley,” he said, widening his eyes to try and look innocent. “She is married. Why isn’t she pregnant?”
Narrowing his eyes and tightening his lips, Stanley glared at Ian for just a moment and then turned back to the game. “Look, I rolled doubles,” he said. “And I landed on go. Looks like I win all the money.”
Ian studied the board and shook his head. “Not unless you somehow rolled thirteen, you old scallywag,” he said. “I think that rather than landing on free parking, you are spending the night in one of my luxury hotels.”
“Am not,” Stanley said.
“Are so,” Ian replied. “That will be two thousand, seven hundred and fifty dollars. And I’ll be happy to take cash.”
“This is highway robbery,” Stanley grumbled as he started counting out his play money.
“No. It’s simple capitalism,” Ian replied. “And I can see why you Americans find it so rewarding.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The house was much quieter. Clarissa had been tucked into bed. Maggie and Andy, who had been allowed to stay later than the rest of their siblings, had been walked home. Rosie and Stanley were standing by the doorway, getting their coats on and saying their goodbyes. “Oh, I almost forgot to mention,” Stanley said. “I did a little checking on that Sol fellow who was so rude to you the other day.”
“Yes?” Mary asked.
“I spoke to some folks I know up Pearl City way and they ain’t fond of him at all,” he replied. “He’s always fighting some ordinance or the other at the city council meetings. Don’t give nothing back to the community, and he’s behind on his taxes but got some lawyer issuing petitions to slow the tax sale down. He’s generally a pain in the butt to all of his neighbors and he’s the worst tipper the gals at the café have ever met.”
“He sounds like a spoiled brat,” Rosie said.
Mary nodded. “Yes he does,” she agreed.
“Well, I ain’t gonna tell you how to run your business,” Stanley said. “But iffen it was me, I’d cash that fellow’s check and make sure it’s good before I’d be doing any work for him.”
