The Squeaky Clean Skeleton

by R A Muth

  "If you say so." In my arms, Rune stretched one paw and yawned.

  "Hey, this is going to work," Hazel assured me.

  "Thanks. You're right." I hoped my words sounded more hopeful than I felt. It was easy for Hazel to be optimistic. She had Sven's income to help pay her bills. I only had my own, and now I had a second mouth to feed-- Rune's, and I couldn't even tell anyone he was half-human. Instead of taking the chance to come clean with my bestie about Rune's true identity and relay my fears for the future, however, I forced a smile. "Yeah. I'm sure you're right."

  Chapter 26

  When Hazel pulled her minivan into the driveway of the Livingston mansion, Marci was waiting. Inviting herself into one of the captain's chairs in the second row of the vehicle, she directed Hazel to use an access road that led to a patio with a picnic area near the shore.

  "As Aunt Christine got older, she used her golf cart to explore the grounds. It was super helpful when she was here alone. She could go where she pleased when she pleased without the risk of falling and hurting herself."

  "Was she here alone a lot?" I asked. "I mean, I am not familiar with her personally."

  "A few years ago, she fired all the staff. I visit whenever I can. Royce and Pierce, not so much. They never have anything good to say about her, but she is like a second mother to me." The more Marci spoke, the softer her voice became. I noticed she referred to her aunt in the present-tense but didn't correct her.

  Keeping her eyes on the road ahead, Hazel asked, "Did you not get along well with your actual parents or something?"

  "Not that it's any of your business, but no, I didn't. My parents planned for me to have an Ivy League education, but I preferred to travel around the world like Aunt Christine."

  "Is that what's in the attic? Souvenirs from her travels?" Although I had Rune's account of how the bottle got there, I held a genuine curiosity about the rest of the contents--like the trunk which held the decomposing skeleton.

  Marci snorted by way of response and, otherwise ignoring my question, pointed. "There's a blind turn here to the right. See where I set the chairs around the table before you got here?"

  The minivan's headlights swept across the grounds as she made the turn, and I caught a better glimpse of a patio clouded by shadows. Navigating into the parking space, Hazel killed the engine.

  Although it wasn't quite dusk, solar-powered lights lit the path on either side from the parking area to the shoreline of the cove. The setting might have been romantic if not for the activity about to take place there. A wall of Eastern Hemlocks behind the table provided privacy from a neighboring campground, but the shore offered an unbroken view of the cove, its waters stretching to the Atlantic Ocean.

  For a brief moment, the sun turned the cerulean waters within the bay to an ominous shade of blood red. The image sent a chill that ran the length of my spine. Was this the universe's way of sending me a message? Should I have listened to Rune and kept my nose out of it? Or were we doing Cooper's Cove a favor by investigating who killed the town's curmudgeonly matron?

  "Come on, ladies. We don't have all night to stare at the bay," Marci urged.

  We exited the vehicle, and I stooped to set Rune on the ground. Before I stood, I whispered, "Stay with me, okay?"

  When he rubbed his head against my ankle and purred, I took it as an answer in the affirmative. It was a shame Rune couldn't be his human self now so we could communicate. Then again, with his quirky, Irish phrases, I might not understand him. The idea was so humorous, I had to fake a cough to cover a giggle.

  "I hope you don't mind, but I invited some other people," Marci warned us as we approached the table.

  Hazel shrugged and pulled my black lace shawl from the tote bag, draping it over the table. "It's your event. We're just the entertainment."

  Going over my lines in my head, I focused on placing the candles at key points on the table and spritzing them with lavender.

  Marci walked in the direction of the shore a little, and Hazel hissed, "Tori, are you spraying those candles with women's body spray?"

  "The instructions called for some wicked expensive essential oils, but this was the best I could do on short notice with our budget. I don't care if Marci is paying us thousands of dollars, we shouldn't have to spend a small fortune on these supplies. Plus, the more I go off-script, the less risk we have of summoning an actual spirit." I shuddered, slipping the body spray into my tote and taking my iPad out. The device registered a full charge, and my Spotify playlist was ready to go.

  A pair of lights swept across the table, drawing our attention to the parking area uphill from the shore. Royce and Pierce exited the car and made their way to us, arriving as Marci returned from her stroll along the beach.

  Before Hazel and I could greet the newcomers, a loud rustling noise sounded from the pines behind us. A look of horror twisted Marci's features as she shouted, "You're not supposed to be here!"

  "We've every bit the right to be here as you have," the newcomer crossed his arms over his chest.

  At recognizing Topher Wickhardt's face, I groaned. Not only did he own the Rustling Bushes campground, but he was also the president of the Cooper's Cove Moonbathing Society.

  He continued, "We've been waiting months for the chance to go moon bathing on these shores, but that old biddy never would allow it. Now that she's gone, we can do as we please."

  "Moon bathing?" Marci asked.

  "Like sunbathing, but at night, darling. You should join us sometime. I've been inviting Tori for ages." Topher waggled his eyebrows at me. When I hesitated, he held up two fingers and added, "As I promised before, no hanky-panky. Scout's honor."

  I could feel the blush rising into my cheeks, warming them against the air blowing in from the cove. "That's okay, Topher. I'm going to pass this time."

  "This time?" His grin was almost as disarming as Rune's, except without the dimple.

  Marci put her fists on her hips and took a step forward, saving me from having to reply. "The last time I checked, this was still private property. I'm Christine Livingston's niece, and if you don't leave at once, then I'm sure the deputy watching the house will be happy to serve as a personal escort."

  His palms facing out, Topher raised his hands to either side and raised them to shoulder-height. "No need for that. We've waited this long. It won't hurt us to wait until the next full moon."

  Much to my relief, Topher and whoever stood behind him retreated into the pines. Although I wasn't a complete prude, their alternative lifestyle wasn't for me. I had no desire to lay on the sand under the light of the moon, not this evening or any future night.

  Hazel went back to arranging items on the table, including the bottle we found in the attic. Rune said it bound him to me, whatever he meant by the phrase. Given the bottle's age, I hadn't planned for it to leave my living room. Maybe its presence here was a sign that it was time for me to come clean. If anyone could keep my secret, it was my best friend.

  "Um, girlfriend? How did that get here?" I asked, pointing at the object I'd taken from the mansion.

  Chapter 27

  Without looking up, Hazel replied, "Well, we didn't have an actual crystal ball, so I grabbed this old bottle from your coffee table. You have to admit it. It looks pretty cool."

  "It does, but Hazel, there's something we need to tell--"

  Before I could finish, Royce's jovial voice rang out, "Good grief. At first, I thought they might be the surprise guests you told us about, Marci."

  Pierce shook his head. "Be serious, Royce. If the spirits catch us joking around, they won't manifest which means these ladies can’t ask them to leave. If the spirits don't leave, then we can't sell the house and claim our inheritance."

  "Is that right?" Royce looked at me, sobering at once.

  Keeping my voice as steady as possible to avoid giggling, I shrugged. "One never can predict these things. The spirits can be a fickle lot."

  With a pointed stare at the cat in my arms, Royce asked,
"Haven't you dropped that thing off at the animal shelter yet? I would have guessed that they'd have euthanized it by now."

  "Excuse me?" The phrase came out in three distinct syllables. Through clenched teeth, I growled, "This thing is my cat now, and he's essential to the séance, as you'll soon see for yourself."

  Before any further discussion could take place, two other cars appeared. I read the vanity plate on one of them, "SPARROW1. Hey, there's Asher. And is that Thom with him?"

  Ivy exited the second vehicle, and Marci beamed a smile that reached from ear to ear. Turning to us, Mrs. Livingston's niece said, "See? I told you I'd invite everyone interested in those old shrubs."

  We watched as Asher swept his arm in front of his and Thom's places next to the path, and Ivy rushed ahead.

  When everyone was in place, Marci announced, "Now that we're all here, we can begin. Everyone, please choose a seat around the table, and Tori will act as a liaison between this world and the spirit plane."

  Hazel's phone chirped to life, right on cue, and she gave a dramatic sigh. "I'm so sorry. You all will have to do this without me. There's something I need to handle."

  As the rest of us took our seats, Hazel took the opportunity to sneak into the house through the dooryard. Her plan was to snoop for clues about whatever took place in the house, and who was in the trunk. Although my friend wasn't willing to admit it, in my heart, I knew it was Christine Livingston's corpse. Who else would have been wearing her church hat? If my suspicions were correct, it made this whole sham of a séance even spookier. I shuddered a little.

  Pierce, seated at my left, clutched my arm. "What is it? Did you connect with a spirit already?" He croaked out, staring at me with a wide-eyed expression.

  I tapped his hand with my fingertips and was relieved when he took the hint and eased his grip. "No, I got a chill all of a sudden from the damp air blowing in off the water."

  "Maybe Pierce could lend you his jacket," Royce offered from the other side of the table, his face drawing into a sneer, the expression displaying teeth straight from a toothpaste commercial. In the dark of night, they verged on glowing.

  "She's a big girl. If she can't dress for the weather by now, then there isn't anything we can or should do about it."

  Royce snort-laughed and rolled his eyes. "Auntie always said that experience was a better teacher than ten college degrees."

  A dull murmur rose from the guests. Before things got out of control, I raised my voice and said, "If we're all ready, we can get started."

  Without waiting for anyone to reply, I turned on my iPad and tapped the Spotify app to access the playlist. The strains of a violin stretched through the night air as if the wind itself was a bow sliding against the instrument's strings. Dark clouds gathered in the distance. In my head, I prayed God would forgive us for putting on this sham, and that he wouldn't let us summon any actual spirits. Amen.

  I nodded to Marci and waited for her to light the three candles. As soon as the third one lit, I waited for her to take her seat before holding my hands to either side of my torso and announcing, "We must all join hands."

  Ivy, to my right, slid her hand into mine with a gentle touch while Pierce gripped my palm for dear life. Asher and Thom linked fingers before holding their free hands out to the people on either side of them. Once everyone in the circle complied, I began chanting, "Christine Livingston, we invite you to commune with us. Move among us in death as you did in life."

  I chanted the line for what felt like twenty more times when it was more like five or six. All of a sudden, a streak of lightning exploded against the horizon, followed by a clap of thunder. The reactions of those around the table were varied, from fear to disbelief, to skepticism.

  "Is that her? Is she with us?" Marci asked, her voice rising in pitch.

  If Marci was pretending to believe in all this, the act was convincing. I looked to the sky then back to the table, taking my time to meet the gaze of each person before replying, "She is. The circle must remain unbroken for the duration of the séance, or she might get upset and leave."

  As Rune and I rehearsed the previous night, he crawled from my lap to the table, but no amount of preparing could have braced me for Pierce's vice-like hold on my hand. I gave him a thoughtful expression that I hope willed him to release his death-like grip. It must have worked because he relaxed his hand a little.

  I continued, "It's a common fact among mediums that spirits communicate best through black cats under a full moon, and as you can see, we have both here. You will ask a question, and the cat will provide the answer. Who would like to go first?" Instead of one person volunteering, the questions came one after another in quick succession, the words creating a cacophony that rose in volume.

  "Who killed you?"

  "How did your skeleton get in the box?

  "Who gets the beach plums?"

  "Who gets your house?"

  "How should we go about dividing your property and divvying the contents of your estate?"

  Chapter 28

  Yelling over the others, I cried, "Whoa, please! One question at a time and the cat may only give a yes or no response, so please phrase your question accordingly." Now more than ever before, I had all the sympathy in the world for Whoopi Goldberg's character on Ghost.

  Thank God I wasn't psychic for real because I couldn't deal with a bunch of voices in my head day in and day out. Tilting my head to the right, I instructed, "Ivy can go first, and then we can work our way around the table in a counter-clockwise direction."

  Pierce hmphed and Ivy shot him a triumphant grin as if she'd won some grand prize when by sheer coincidence, she happened to be the person sitting on my right.

  Before I could mention it, she called out, "Christine, I'm wicked sorry about what happened to you. You weren't the absolute worst person in the world, and we weren't what you might call friends, but I hate to see you go out the way you did. Even though everyone else in town wicked hated you, for the most part, not even you deserved that."

  "Your question," I whispered, and if I weren't holding hands with her and Pierce, I'd have facepalmed as well. "What's your question, Ivy?"

  "I'm getting there," she hissed. In a normal tone, she asked, "May I have access to the beach plums on your property?"

  Rune laid on his side and stretched his front paws forward.

  "I'm afraid that's a no, Ivy. Royce? Go ahead with your question," I urged, shivering in my thin gold outerwear.

  "Did you cut Pierce and me out of your will?" When he finished asking his question, an expression I couldn't quite identify pass between the two cousins. I filed the nugget away for later, as I was sure they must be involved.

  If Christine Livingston had cut her nephews out of her will, then could they have worked together to kill her? But why would they kill her if they didn't stand to gain anything from it? Each time one question formed in my head, it led to half a dozen others.

  Rune's stare pulled me from my thoughts. He stretched his paws forward again, his movements exaggerated. Rune, I hope you're right on this. I'd hate to give them false hope and be wrong. Looking at Royce, I translated, "The answer is no."

  Royce smiled at Pierce, who nodded in return. Something was going on between these two, but what? There wasn't time to mull it over now, as Asher was squirming with anticipation.

  "Okay, Asher. Ask her your question," I encouraged.

  "Can the deal I had planned before go through now that the obstacle preventing it is no longer a factor?"

  Questions ran through my head like a dog chasing its tail. Was he talking about the deal with the beach plums? And what obstacle prevented it? Ooh, did he outright refer to Christine Livingston as an obstacle?

  A bolt of lightning hit on the sand a few feet behind him, and the force of the clap of thunder which followed was strong enough to rattle the items on the table. Pierce shrieked and renewed the grip on my hand.

  A salty tang hung in the air, warning of a storm approaching from the hor
izon. Holy moly! If I didn't know better, I'd believe I summoned a legit spirit! Without waiting for Rune to do his thing, I blurted, "That's a no, sorry."

  The wind picked up and sent the flames atop the candles sideways. The night chill passed through the gold satin fabric as if it was mosquito netting, and I felt the goose pimples breaking out on my arms.

  "Marci? You're next. What's your question?"

  Silence followed as Mrs. Livingston's niece paused, her lips pursed as she narrowed her eyebrows and glanced around the table. At long last, she asked, "Is the murderer here with us tonight?"

  Rune leaped to his paws and stared at me. It wasn’t like I could hold a conversation with him in front of the others. Besides, even if he could understand me, I didn’t speak cat.

  Another bolt of lightning flashed in the distance, and Rune dashed in the direction of the house, his inky black fur disappearing into the shadows the moment he reached the well-manicured lawn.

  The force of the wind sent the waves from lapping gently at the fringes of shoreline to pounding against the sand with violent intensity. Clouds drew in from either side of the sky until they blotted out the light from the full moon.

  A stray thought popped into my head. It’s a good thing Topher took the rest of the colonists back to the campground.

  On any other occasion, I might have enjoyed a juvenile giggle at the idea of a bunch of nocturnal beachcombers getting drenched by a monsoon. At the moment, however, I had to keep control of the current situation.

  Marci cried, “If the cat is communicating with the spirit, then what’s my answer?”

  “We have to close the circle!” I yelled to be heard over the howling wind, its gusts extinguishing the candles. The script I had spent so much time memorizing was the furthest thing from my mind, so I improvised, “Christine Livingston, we thank you for communing with us. Go in peace, leaving us in death as you did in life!”