by Stuart Jaffe
“First, she is dead. Don’t worry about that. Second, we don’t know who cursed her. Might’ve been Mother Hope, but a witch like Dr. Connor made a lot of enemies in her life — many that would have had the knowledge and capability to pull off this kind of a curse.”
“Which is what? What’s her curse?”
Drummond leaned back and inspected his shoes. “She’s been muted by an iron gag. Didn’t even run when she saw me. She’s in the worst shape I’ve ever seen. Even worse than when she was a drunkard who thought everything was lost.”
Putting a hand up, Max said, “Hold on. What’s an iron gag curse?”
“It’s an old way witches were dealt with back in the 1600s. When a village caught a person they thought was a witch, they padlocked a gag made of iron around the mouth — really just a big metal slab crudely shaped to cover the mouth and chin. The idea was that this would stop the witch from uttering a spell before they could sentence her. Then they’d cut her to pieces with a sword.”
Max’s ghost stomach twisted. “She didn’t have an iron gag over her mouth when we found her dead, so you’re saying that somebody dug her up and cursed her.”
“Exactly. And now she can’t speak until the curse is lifted.”
“Then she can’t work with Mother Hope.”
“I think that’s the idea. Leed thinks it, too. He’ll watch over her, and if something happens, he can pop right into my pocket from the Other and warn us.”
Max slashed his hand through the wall. “It’s got to be Tucker. All of this.”
Over the next hour, the two ghosts debated the idea. Max thought the Pale Man’s usage of my employer was damning enough, but the muting of Dr. Connor meant that Tucker suspected Mother Hope’s plan. If Tucker was finally willing to come after Max and Sandra, then it made sense for him to mute the one witch who could mess things up. Drummond pointed out that they had no real proof of that, but Max countered that argument by saying that if all these clues indicating Tucker were wrong, then the whole thing was one gigantic coincidence.
“And I know what you think of coincidences,” Max said.
Drummond did not give in, leaving Max to wonder if his partner was frightened. And that frightened Max more.
As noon arrived, Sandra finally woke. She wasted no time with stretching or rubbing her eyes or even straightening her hair. Instead, she turned to Drummond and said, “Tell me everything.”
Drummond told her all that he knew about Dr. Connor, and Max interrupted more times than was required to expound on his ideas and concerns. When their verbal dance finished, Sandra pulled out her cell phone and made a call.
“Leon? This is Sandra Porter. Please inform your boss that we have found Dr. Connor ... That’s right. And tell her to come over to the hospital at once ... Well, I don’t really care how you phrase it. I just want to make sure she gets over here.”
After ending the call, Sandra dropped back into her chair. Max crouched before her. “I don’t think you quite heard Drummond,” he said.
“I heard him just fine.”
“Well, what are you doing then?”
“Hopefully, putting an end to this nonsense. Now, I need to freshen up before they get here.” She shuffled off to the bathroom and closed the door. “Don’t poke your head in here, either. Just because you’re now a ghost doesn’t mean I don’t get any privacy.”
Max looked to Drummond for support, but his partner shrugged. Fifteen minutes later, Sandra returned looking brighter. Her hair no longer shot off at odd directions and the sleepiness in her face had disappeared.
She walked over to Max’s body and took his hand. Leaning close, she kissed his cheek. Her lips quivered but she managed to smile.
When she rolled her shoulders back and looked to the door, Max saw her strength return. The thin line she balanced upon had begun to take its toll, but she still has some fight left — probably a lot.
“I’m getting coffee,” she said and walked out.
Max gave her a five count to make sure she didn’t come back for something. Then he said, “Listen, I was wondering if you could give me a few pointers on this whole ghost business. It took me long enough to figure out how to move, and I can only go up and down floors slowly. You fly around like a jet compared to me.”
Drummond pushed his chin toward the door. “Tough dames like that are one in a million.”
“Sandra? Don’t I know it.”
“Also a million times the trouble.”
“It’s worth it.”
Drummond slapped Max in the face. “Then stop asking me crap questions and start working this case. I don’t like seeing that look in her eyes. Every single time she even peeks at you lying in that bed, she’s picturing you as a corpse. We’ve got to get you back in that body, not get you comfortable being a ghost.”
“Ow. That hurt.”
“Good. Slap some sense into you.”
Max shoved Drummond back. “I don’t want to be ghost. I just figured if I’m stuck this way right now, I should be able to get around.”
Drummond made a fist. “You could fool me. Send me looking for Dr. Connor, send your wife reading books, what have you done?”
“What can I do?” Max put up his fists, just in case.
“You can think, can’t you? You’ve got a good brain. Start using it. Because I’m telling you now, if you die, I’m going to kill you. No way will I sit around and watch that woman fall apart after you’re gone and haunting. I’ll rip your ghost-self to shreds.”
Sandra entered the room and froze. “What’s going on here?”
Both Drummond and Max backed away from each other. “Nothing,” Drummond said.
Max put his hands behind his back. “Just discussing the case, and we got a little heated about it.”
Setting her coffee aside, Sandra said, “You are both terrible liars. Whatever your problem, put it away right now. There’s a window by the vending machines, and I spotted Leon and Mother Hope walking along. They’ll be here any minute.”
“No problem. Drummond and I both agree that getting this worked out is vital.”
“Damn right,” she said. “I can’t be married to you like this.” Max’s shocked face brought a smile to her lips. “Really, honey? You think I’m serious?”
Drummond chuckled. “Heck, even I knew she was making a joke.”
A minute later, the door opened and Mother Hope entered while Leon stood guard outside. Her eyes had sunken since her last visit, and dark circles had formed beneath them. She wore a plain, gray frock that made her appear smaller and older. Despite this, when she took a seat, placed her palms on her knees, and cocked her head towards Sandra, everybody in the room knew the old woman still had plenty of power.
Sandra took a sip of coffee, set the cup back down, and crossed her arms casually. She remained standing as she stared back at Mother Hope.
Neither spoke.
Only the steady beeping of Max’s heart monitor filled the air.
Mother Hope looked around the room, and Max smiled. It was a slight win in this battle of wills, but the war wouldn’t end until one of them talked first. Nothing stopped Max or Drummond from talking, though both stayed quiet as well.
“I don’t have time for games,” Mother Hope finally said. “I’m here. Report to me.”
The corner of Sandra’s mouth turned up a sliver. “No reporting going on. I don’t work for you.”
“You most certainly do.”
“Coercion is a different matter than employment. You are not my boss.”
“But I do hold your husband’s life in my hands. So, can we stop with this power struggle and accept the way things are?”
Sandra pulled over a chair and sat. “Of course. Let’s accept the way things are. We have found Dr. Connor, and we can connect you to her. Our end of this is done. Release my husband from this curse. Bring him back to me.”
“Well, bless your heart. You think I just fell of the truck? I am not going to simply accept your word
for it all. I will free your husband once Dr. Connor has fulfilled her end of the spell.”
“There’s the problem. Dr. Connor has been cursed as well — an iron gag. We need to locate her corpse and break her from her curse before she can help you. But I can’t do that alone. This calls on the research skills Max has always excelled at, and he can’t do anything like that in his current state.”
Drummond said, “Doll, you never cease to amaze me. Great going!”
“You’ve got her on the ropes,” Max said.
But Mother Hope grinned enough to show her teeth. “This is not a good play for you.”
“Oh? Seems like the play is in your hands, not mine. You have a choice to make. If you want to defeat Tucker Hull, you’ll need Max to release that witch. You’ll have to let him go. Or you can keep him, and Tucker Hull will destroy you.”
“No, dear. I’ve got plenty of qualified people at my disposal. They can find Dr. Connor’s gagged corpse. They can break her curse. I don’t need your husband for that.”
“We’ve heard that before. Lots of people bet they can beat Max at finding something. He always wins.”
“Not this time.”
Sandra held her face still, but Max saw the tiny twinge in her cheek. “You’re wrong. Regardless, though, the deal was for us to find Dr. Connor, and —”
“Deal? There’s no deal here. There is only what I want.”
“Look, if you —”
Mother Hope hopped to her feet. “You have wasted my time, and I don’t have enough of that right now. You want your husband? You know what has to be done. Don’t call me here again unless you have success.” She whipped her finger at Sandra. “Waste my time again, and I’ll curse you far worse than you’ve ever seen.”
After Mother Hope left, nobody spoke. Had he not been a ghost, Max would have put his arm around his wife, but had he not been a ghost, none of this conversation would have happened.
Drummond tilted his hat back. “Well, doll, you sure know how to piss off a witch.”
Sandra spun to face him. “I am not laughing.”
“Honey,” Max said, “he’s only trying to —”
“I’ve had it. All of it. Mother Hope, this curse, every Hull that ever lived and those that are dead, too. I’ve had it with the witches and the hitman and all the Mr. Modestos and Leons. I’ve had it with Winston-Salem and North Carolina.” She kicked the leg of one chair, tumbling it onto its back.
Drummond went to say something, but Max waved him down. Anything that ghost could say would only be a bellows to the flame.
Max waited until he saw Sandra’s fists unclench and her shoulders lower slightly. “You okay?”
“No,” she said calmly. She went to Max’s body and brushed back his hair. “I can’t lose you.”
“You’re not going to.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know us. I know we won’t stop fighting. My life is hanging in our hands, and if it’s going to be that way, then I’m better off here instead of anywhere else.”
She sniffled and cracked a smile. “That almost makes sense.”
“Then let’s work our way through this. We can access the library online from here. You can be my fingers and type what I need, and together we’ll get the research going until we can find out what happened to Dr. Connor’s corpse.”
Sandra perked up. “No,” she said. “That’s playing right along with what Mother Hope wants us to do. We won’t do that.”
“We won’t?”
Drummond snapped his fingers. “Oh, I like where you’re heading.”
Max’s head turned back and forth between Sandra and Drummond. “What’s going on?”
“Your wife is getting back on her feet is what’s going on.”
As if to illustrate the point, Sandra stood straight and planted her feet down firm. “We do need to find Dr. Connor, but we all know we need Max back here in the flesh in order to succeed. We also know that keeping you as a ghost is Mother Hope’s leverage. So, we’re going to fix all of that in one strong move.” She looked right at Max’s ghost. “We’ll pull in every favor if we have to, call on everybody we know to help, whatever it takes — we’re bringing you back.”
Chapter 8
Max kept thinking about the bottle of whiskey hiding in the bookshelf at the office. The day had moved so slowly that he had wound himself up tight, and a stiff drink would have been relaxing. A little bit, at least.
Sandra and Drummond had left to prepare. Max had asked for details of the plan, but Sandra refused to share. “We’re being spied on, hon. They’re being obvious about Dr. Fremont watching us. Of course, they’ll have other, less obvious surveillance as well.”
So, Max had nothing to do but think over all the possible ways the night could derail a plan he knew almost nothing about. He had to remind himself that Sandra was in charge. This was her plan, her preparation, her execution, and while he believed she would do a great job, he did not like being in the dark — especially with his life in the balance and nothing to do but float around the hospital.
After hovering over the nurses as they gave his body a sponge bath and checked his monitors, he knew the excitement of the day had ended. The nurses only came in three times a day — the morning routine, this early afternoon check, and once more in the evening. The day drifted onward.
With nothing to occupy him, Max took another stab at Cecily Hull’s code — ZSRLH. Perhaps, instead of a secret code, it was more of an identification code — like a library call number. But what kind of library used five letters like that? He considered that it might be a password to some protected files or a clandestine website, but if that had been true, Tucker Hull would never have written the password down in such an obvious place. Which brought up the possibility that Cecily finding the code was no accident. Perhaps it had been planted for her to find. Except Cecily claimed that she didn’t know what the letters meant. Why plant a code for an enemy to find if the enemy couldn’t decipher the code?
Long after sunset, after the nurses performed their final duties for the night, he had resigned to another loop of the “aisles of the dead” as he had come to think of his ghostmates in the halls when Sandra entered the room. She set a box down on one chair and pulled out a large container of salt, some chalk, a small mixing bowl, and three candles — two blue, one black.
“No offense,” Max said, “but this isn’t the kind of magic you can break with a spell learned on a witchcraft website.”
Sandra pulled the box apart to reveal a series of symbols drawn on the inside. “Shut up and trust me.” She slid the flattened box underneath Max’s bed.
Drummond walked in via the outer wall. “All set on my end.”
“You’re sure about this?” Sandra asked pulling out a piece of paper covered with writing.
“I went over it all twice. Dr. Connor said it’s good.”
Max grabbed Drummond’s arm. “Dr. Connor? She’s speaking? What’s she doing with this?”
Shrugging free, Drummond said, “She can’t talk. But she can write. She gave us this spell. Wrote it down despite the pain, and then I read it back to her. Twice.”
“But we can’t trust her. She hates me with a passion. A serious burn-me-in-Hell kind of passion.”
Sandra said, “We know that, honey.”
“Then why —”
“You have got to calm down and remember who you’re talking with. I’m not an idiot.”
“I’m not trying to second guess you, but —”
“Yes, you are. And I understand that you’re worried, that it’s your life we’re dealing with, that this situation has taken away all choices for you. I also understand something you may not see — that you’re not thinking clearly. It’s okay. We are. All you have to do is remember this — I love you. Your life is every bit as precious to me, too. And I’m bringing you back.”
As Sandra consulted her instructions for the proper placement of the candles — two blues on the floor near
the bed’s footboard, one black centered underneath the headboard — Drummond took Max aside. “Listen to her. She’s giving everything she can for you. We all are. After you’re done realizing what a bonehead you’re being, start thinking. Obviously, we know the kind of person Dr. Connor is. So why would we trust her even a little bit?”
Max closed his eyes. He tried to wipe away the worry and focus on Dr. Connor. “Because she needs me.”
“That’s right. For the moment, she’s stuck, and she can’t get uncursed unless that iron gag is removed.”
“She knows we’re her best chance.”
“Particularly, if we have you at full capacity. So, she helps us. For now.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Max sighed and approached Sandra. “I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t look like it by my behavior, but I do trust you. There’s nobody I trust more.”
“What else?” Sandra said.
“What do you mean?”
She put her hand on her hip. “What else?”
“I love you.”
“Damn right. And you’re a dolt, too. Let me hear that.”
“And I’m a dolt.”
“Okay, sweetheart. On account of extreme stress and being an unwilling ghost, I forgive you.”
Drummond flew out through the door and returned a minute later. “The Sandwich Boys are here and in place.”
Max grinned. “PB and J are here? What exactly is this plan?”
“Nothing too complicated. In fact, I got this one from you,” Sandra said, fishing out her cell phone. “Okay. I think we’re about ready to do this.”
“Do what? What’s going to happen?”
Flexing her fingers, Sandra said, “I told you already. We’re getting you back to the living.” She typed a text message and sent it off. “Drummond, be a dear and let me know when the Sandwich Boys have started.”
“Sure thing. Though I suspect you’ll hear it long before I have to tell you.”
“Probably, but check anyway.”
After Drummond dashed through the wall, Sandra gave the room one final inspection. She checked Dr. Connor’s instructions and tapped on the paper as she went through. With a blush, she rushed over to the window and closed the curtains.
