The Virginia Mysteries Collection: Books 1-3

by Steven K. Smith

  “See anything?” Sam asked, scanning the area for lurking sentinels. Derek was leaning over the statue’s pedestal, inspecting the area around Jefferson Davis’ shoe where the men had been focused.

  “Look at that!” said Derek. He pointed at two small letters, scribbled in a black chalk-like substance. Next to the letters was a thick red line, pressed onto the stone like it had been drawn on top of itself over and over again.

  “CG,” read Sam. “Confederate Ghosts?”

  “Yep, but look at the lines next to it.”

  “Is that red marker?” asked Sam.

  Derek leaned closer. He put his nose up to the stone and sniffed, shaking his head. “It’s not marker…it’s blood.”

  Sam leaped back from the statue. “Blood! Holy cow. This is bad. This is very bad. I told you we shouldn’t be here. I told you they were going to do sacrifices.”

  “Relax, Sam. It’s not your blood.”

  “Not yet, it’s not, but I bet they’ll want it to be once they find out we’re from the North.”

  Derek rolled his eyes and looked back at the statue.

  “Sacrifices. I told you!” continued Sam. “Sacrifices to their old president, with Union blood from northern kids.”

  Derek ignored Sam’s hysterics, walking around the perimeter of Davis’ grave area, looking for clues.

  Sam followed behind him. “What I was trying to tell you before you stormed off, was about what was on the guy’s jacket.”

  “Okay, Sam, what was on his jacket?”

  “A ghost! Exactly like the mural at the hydro plant on Belle Isle. He had the same picture of the ghost outlined on his jacket!”

  Derek finally stopped walking around the statue. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’d remember that drawing anywhere,” said Sam, looking back at the red marks on the statue. “We need to get out of here. Meghan’s going to pick us up soon, and we still have to find our way back to the entrance.”

  He looked around nervously at the graveyard that was littered with stones. All he could think about was that he was currently surrounded by dead people and that it was entirely possible he was about to join them. He was too young!

  Derek looked at his watch. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Thank you. That’s the smartest thing you’ve said all morning.”

  “Just try to keep it together, Sam. Don’t be such a baby.”

  “Shut up, I’m not a baby. You can stop being such a jerk. Just because I mentioned Cameron—”

  “And keep an eye out for the bikers,” interrupted Derek. “They should be gone by now, but I don’t want to sneak up on them accidentally.”

  Don’t worry, thought Sam to himself. I’m on high alert.

  FIFTEEN

  The boys did their best to retrace their steps to get back to the entrance, but it was hard to remember the way with all the twists and turns. The good news was that they didn’t see any more bikers. The bad news was that they were lost.

  “These roads all look the same,” said Sam.

  “Let’s take a break,” said Derek, wiping the sweat off his brow. It was getting warmer the longer they were in the cemetery. “I need to get our bearings.”

  Sam looked across the path at an especially ornate grave that reminded him of a tower. Derek must have been looking at the same thing.

  “Do you think Mom and Dad are climbing the Eiffel Tower right now?”

  “They said they already saw it,” replied Sam.

  “I hope they bring me a snow globe.”

  “A snow globe of what?”

  “Of the Eiffel Tower, duh,” said Derek.

  “Do they even have snow globes with the Eiffel Tower in them? I don’t think it snows in Paris.”

  “Sure they do,” answered Derek, confidently. “They make snow globes of everything. Mark Perkins told me that his cousin went to Egypt and brought him back a snow globe of the pyramids.”

  “That’s crazy,” said Sam.

  “Everybody loves snow globes.”

  “Hmm,” muttered Sam. He didn’t want a snow globe. He didn’t like to think about their mom and dad climbing the Eiffel Tower, either. It was high. Too high.

  He thought back to the time that he’d climbed to the top of a lighthouse with his dad at the beach. It had seemed like a great idea from the ground, his neck craned back into his shoulder, looking at the tiny people standing at the top of the tower under the clouds. But once he got inside, he started to change his mind. The iron staircase wound around the old lighthouse’s walls, seeming to stretch up to eternity. The more steps they took, the more Sam wanted to get back on the ground. It was terrible.

  He had tried not to look, but he couldn’t resist peering through the metal steps. He could see straight to the bottom. Each time his foot had rested on a stair, he feared he’d slip through the crack and tumble to his doom. It was like a spiral of death. When he wasn’t worried about falling through the steps, he’d felt lightheaded and worried he’d faint and fall over the railing.

  “Sam, come on!” hollered Derek, pulling him out of his daydream. Sam sighed and followed, turning yet another corner filled with rows of short, white, rounded grave markers. Every row looked the same. It was impossible to tell most of them apart.

  Just when it seemed like nothing would ever look different, Sam’s eye caught a dark shadow that seemed to be emerging from behind the trees. As his eyes moved upwards, his mouth dropped open further and further in amazement. “What is that?”

  “Whoa…” muttered Derek.

  They walked forward, heads leaning back as they looked higher.

  “It’s huge!” cried Sam.

  “It’s like an Egyptian pyramid,” said Derek. “Except grey colored instead of brown.”

  This was definitely the monument that Caitlin had told them about. Sam had forgotten all about it after their run in with the bikers. Now he understood why she had made such a big deal about it.

  “I wonder if they make a snow globe of this?” Derek laughed.

  Sam chuckled, marveling at the enormous pyramid of rocks. It wasn’t just a pile of stones stacked on top of each other, but more like a building constructed in the shape of a pyramid. The rocks were huge, rectangular stones, each one of them nearly half as tall as he was. The whole thing was bigger than his house—probably over 50 feet high.

  As they moved around the pyramid, Sam spied an inscription on one of the stones, several feet off the ground.

  TO THE CONFEDERATE DEAD.

  He thought quietly about what that meant, how thousands of men were buried in the ground here who had died fighting for what they believed in.

  “Well, I guess we found the Confederate soldiers monument,” said Derek.

  “I never expected it to be so big!” Sam exclaimed. He walked around to the next side. “Here’s another plaque.”

  ERECTED BY THE HOLLY-WOOD MEMORIAL ASSOCIATION. A.D. 1899.

  Sam thought about the date. “This was built over a hundred years ago. How did they build something like this back then? They didn’t have cranes and forklifts, did they?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Derek. “Maybe it was the ghosts.”

  “The bikers?” asked Sam “I don’t think they built it.”

  “No, the real ghosts,” explained Derek. “Of the dead Confederate soldiers that Mr. Haskins told us about.”

  Sam shook his head as Derek crouched down in the grass. “What he didn’t say,” Derek said slowly, talking in a hushed tone as if someone might overhear, “was that each night, after the Confederate soldiers rose from their graves and battled the Union soldiers, they dragged a stone back from the river. One by one, they heaved stone after stone onto the pyramid, stacking it higher and higher.”

  “Give me a break,” said Sam.

  “For over a hundred years,” Derek continued, keeping a serious face, “the Confederate Ghosts have served as the protectors of this monument to the dead. In the early days, they rode on all black horses.
Today, they ride on Harleys. But their mission is the same.”

  “And what’s that?” said Sam, laughing at Derek’s tall tale. “To touch the shoe of Jefferson Davis’ statue?”

  “No, to recommit themselves to the Confederate cause through a streak of their blood, which shall forever remain true to the South.”

  “Right,” said Sam.

  “Oh, I forgot the most important part,” Derek continued. “Each night, since the pyramid was assembled, the statue of Jefferson Davis comes to life.”

  “Oh,” laughed Sam. “And I assume he’s joined by General Robert E. Lee on horseback too.”

  “Exactly!” said Derek, jumping into the air, his arm slashing back and forth with a pretend sword. “Together they fight all night, until the rising sun chases them back into their graves at dawn.”

  Sam shook his head. “That’s all very interesting, but let’s get going. Meghan’s going to be here any minute, and we still don’t know where the entrance is. She’s going to be mad if we’re not there.”

  “Good point,” said Derek. “The only thing worse than facing an angry Confederate Ghost might be an angry Meghan. Let’s go.”

  They gave the pyramid one more appreciative look and scampered down the road. Somehow they made the right combination of turns, and soon they recognized the path to the entrance.

  “Look, there she is,” said Derek, pointing to the parked minivan.

  The front door opened. “Where have you guys been?” said Meghan. “Come on, let’s go.”

  SIXTEEN

  “Where are we going?” asked Sam, climbing into the van and buckling his seat belt.

  “Well,” answered Meghan, “Derek has soccer practice, again, at two o’clock.” She turned to Sam. “And your little friend Caitlin called while you were out and asked if you wanted to come by the bookstore again this afternoon. If not, I’ll have to take you back home. ”

  Derek elbowed Sam in the ribs and winked, mouthing the word cuddle, with a laugh.

  Sam smacked him in the arm. “Shut up.”

  “I need to meet Paul at the pool,” continued Meghan, “so hurry up and let me know what you want to do. I didn’t sign up to be your personal secretary.”

  “Didn’t you just see Paul this morning?” asked Derek.

  “That’s not any of your business,” snapped Meghan.

  Sam wiped the sweat from his forehead. The pool sounded nice and refreshing after the humidity of the cemetery. He had an idea.

  “Can I bring Caitlin to the pool?” They didn’t have to hang out with Meghan and Paul while they were there. Besides, he wanted to tell Caitlin about all they’d seen at the cemetery.

  Meghan let out an exaggerated sigh. “Sure, why not. What’s one more rug rat to cart around. I can’t believe your parents won’t be home for two more days.”

  “One and a half, actually,” corrected Sam.

  “Whatever.” Meghan handed her cell phone to Sam over the seat back. “Here, why don’t you call her and ask if she wants to come to the pool. Her mom’s number is in there.”

  Sam took the phone and started pushing buttons to find Mrs. Murphy’s number when the phone came to life with a buzz. The word Paul flashed on the screen.

  “Um, I think you’re getting a phone call,” said Sam.

  “Well, give it to me then, will you?” said Meghan.

  “You’re driving. That’s not safe,” said Derek. “Here, I’ll answer it.” He grabbed the phone from Sam’s hand and pressed the button that said Speaker. “Paul, buddy, what’s happening?”

  A deep voice on the other end of the line answered, “Hello?”

  “Will you give me that phone, Derek?” demanded Meghan from the front seat. As she turned her head to reach backwards, the car veered sharply to the right.

  “Watch out, Meghan,” yelled Sam. “You’re going to kill us!”

  Meghan straightened back in her seat and yanked the wheel to the left. A car in the next lane honked and sped ahead of them.

  “Meghan, are you there?” asked Paul, still waiting on the phone.

  “Paul, this is Derek. Meghan is a little busy trying to kill us by driving down the middle of the road. What’s cooking?” He looked up at Meghan with a grimace. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject.”

  Sam shook his head. Derek loved to talk like a big shot, especially on the phone.

  Meghan yelled from the front seat. “Honey, I have to run these little creeps a hundred more places before I can meet you at the pool. I’m going to be late.” She was more annoyed than ever.

  Sam pictured her dropping them off on the side of the road somewhere and making them walk home just so she could get to Paul on time. He wouldn’t put it past her.

  “That’s no problem,” said Paul through the phone. “I’m still tied up over here at the bike shop. We got a new shipment of Cannondales in this morning, and I need to set them up on the floor. I won’t be able to get to the pool until three. See you then?”

  “Okay. Miss you like crazy!”

  “Miss you too, kitten. Thanks for stopping by this morning. Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  Sam and Derek looked at each other and burst out laughing. What was that all about? The name kitten just didn’t seem to fit Meghan. Maybe mountain lion would be more appropriate.

  “Not a word,” warned Meghan, sensing the boys’ thoughts. “Sam, hurry up and make your phone call or the only part of the pool you’ll be visiting is the bottom of the deep end.”

  Sam wiped the smile from his face and started dialing. She looked like she meant it.

  Yikes.

  ***

  Sam arranged for them to stop at Caitlin’s house and pick her up. They dropped Derek off at soccer practice, and soon he and Caitlin were laying poolside in the sun on big white lounge chairs.

  “Ah, this is the life,” sighed Sam, his head propped on a folded towel and sunglasses on his face.

  “I like helping at the bookstore, but I have to admit, this is better right now,” said Caitlin, flipping through a book that she’d brought along. She was always reading something. Sam guessed that was how she always knew so much. He was getting there, but he was still way behind Caitlin.

  “Is this the pool that you come to for swim team?” asked Sam.

  “No, that’s the one in Julie Mercer’s neighborhood. We’re the Silver Minnows. I came in third place for the backstroke in our last meet. I was hoping for first, but Julie and this really fast girl from the other team beat me. Mom says that third place is still good, but I was disappointed.”

  Sam had never been on the swim team. He’d played plenty of baseball and basketball, but his teams never seemed to win much. Last year, Derek’s baseball team went all the way to the county pennant game. Derek even hit a home run, but they ended up losing in the last inning. “Third place is good. I’m not the best player on my baseball team either. I really want to start at shortstop, but I keep getting stuck in left field.”

  “Is left field bad?”

  “It’s not bad, necessarily. One of my favorite players on the Yankees plays left field. But in little league, it doesn’t get a lot of action. Not that many kids can hit the ball to the outfield yet, so it’s kind of boring. I’d rather play short stop.”

  “Well, I’ll bet you’re working at it and getting better,” encouraged Caitlin. “Just like in school. You don’t give up—you’re always trying to study harder if you get a bad grade on a math test.”

  Sam considered what Caitlin said. He’d never really thought about whether he was persistent like that; but now that she said it, he realized it was true. His mom had always said that girls are very observant.

  “Hey, look who it is! Little Jackson!” a voice screeched over at them. Sam closed his eyes, praying that he hadn’t just heard what he thought he did.

  “How’s your bike, Little Jackson?” another voice asked, coming closer.

  Sam opened his eyes and saw Cameron and one of his buddies
from Belle Isle walking up.

  “Look, Sean, he has a girlfriend. What’s your name, sweetheart?” asked Cameron.

  The other boy—Sean—erupted in an obnoxious high-pitched laugh that sounded like a hyena.

  Sam waved his hand weakly. “Hi, guys, I’m fine, thanks.”

  “Where’s your chicken brother, Jackson? Staying home for the rest of the summer with his mommy?” Sean nudged Cameron in the side, bending over with his hyena laugh again like he’d said something really hilarious.

  Caitlin stood up and set her book on her towel “I’m getting hot. Let’s go down the waterslide, Sam.”

  Sam hopped up from his chair. The waterslide sounded good to him. Anything would be better than talking to Cameron and Sean.

  “Okay, see you later, Sammy,” called Cameron. “Be careful on your bicycle. Maybe you should try some training wheels next time.”

  Sam hustled over to the waterslide with Caitlin. “They’re such jerks,” he muttered. “Those are the guys we saw on Belle Isle when I cut my arm.”

  “Yeah, I figured that out,” said Caitlin. “Just ignore them. That’s what my dad says to do with bullies. They’re just trying to make themselves seem cool by putting everyone else down.”

  Sam nodded but privately thought that her suggestion was easier said than done.

  SEVENTEEN

  The line was short, so they quickly reached the top of the stairs to the waterslide. Sam balanced himself with the railing and looked down to the ground. He spied their lounge chairs, the snack bar, and Meghan and Paul, sitting next to the deep-water pool. They were holding hands and listening to music on their phones. There was no sign of Cameron—he must have found someone else to bother.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for the hurricane?” Sam asked Caitlin, stepping up to the slide.

  “Oh, I’m ready. Prepare to eat my dust, Sam Jackson!”

  The waterslide wasn’t huge, like at an amusement park, but it was pretty impressive for a local pool. At the top, two tubes ran side by side, spiraling in tight curves to the bottom. They shot the rider out three feet above the water so that they exploded into the air, falling into a big splash. It was fun—a little scary the first time Sam had tried it—but now he liked it.