by Clare Hexom
“The last time I saw him, he did,” said Ben.
“Describe the words Caleb changes,” she said.
“The words about the monkey hitting his head. The verbs. He uses strong verbs like ‘thump,’ ‘conk.’ I’ve overheard disturbing words about dead monkeys, too. And cursing.”
“Has he recited for you?” Judith asked Ben.
“Not yet. I’ve been living there these past couple days and that ghost or whatever weirdness they’re dealing with has stayed away. No whispers, no knocking.”
I sunk into the sofa when he mentioned he’d been living with us. Here it comes, the full lecture on morality, how our souls are damned unless we forsake our sins and repent.
She asked instead, “You have a place in mind for the séance?”
I blew out a long breath. “The hedge at the park. We think that’s where Jack was killed.”
“Sage here is my spirit companion. We search out supernatural activity together, and if someone died by that hedge, she will know. But a park is too public for conducting a séance.”
“Where do you suggest?” asked Ben.
“Diane’s dining room. My mama’s dining table is perfect. The ghost already resides on the property, which eliminates the risk it might choose to stay. In fact, once all is said and done and his warning is heeded and his justice obtained, Jack Harwood is likely to seek the light as he should.”
“We need to find a way to persuade the Fowlers to attend,” I said.
“Think, Mallory Anne. The season plays to your advantage. Invite them to a Halloween event. No need to mention a séance. Surprise that little liar and her husband.”
“We’re all set except for coordinating the date with everyone,” said Ben.
“The sooner the better,” said Judith. “Your greatest obstacle will be the killer’s willingness to confess. There is no opportunity in responding to a spirit’s accusation.”
Ben passed the time before the séance with Caleb. They decorated the front porch by making it an entrance into a house of the dead. They besieged Mom’s happy pumpkins with ghouls, ghosts, and hairy spiders. The father-and-son activity helped cement their bond.
I leaned back against the island in the kitchen watching my mother.
“Baking is unnecessary when we’ve planned an evening of confession, not festivity,” I said.
“The Fowlers expect a party.” She waggled a spatula at me. “Decorations and desserts strengthen the plan. Trick or treat! Ha!”
Nothing about the evening struck me as humorous. She ignored what happens when a killer is backed into a corner. I supposed humor calmed her nerves, blinded her to consequences of the endgame. Weighing the possibilities sickened me.
Ben and Caleb tramped into the kitchen through the side door. They homed in on the wire racks of cooling cookies set on the breakfast counter.
“Hands first!” I snatched up Caleb under his arms, his legs kicking at the air, and put him down on the countertop beside the apron front sink.
Ben kissed my cheek, leaving behind a few crumbs. “You’re a bit testy.”
I looked down. “Your hands are as dirty as his.” I dusted the crumbs from my face.
He rolled his eyes and joined Caleb at the sink. When the front doorbell chimed, Caleb jumped down and dragged his dripping hands across his shirt as he scrambled out of the kitchen. Mom grabbed a towel and ran after him.
Ben held me and rested his head against mine. “We can cancel this circus,” he whispered in my ear.
“No. We’ve come too far.”
“Not if you’re a wreck.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Nothing bad will happen.” He leaned over and grabbed a handful of cookies from the counter behind me. “If I were either Dana or Erik, I’d run.”
“Run where?” My eyes widened. “There’s no place to hide once they’ve been found out. I know her, Ben. She will fight to save herself and silence any witness.”
The oven timer dinged and I removed the cookie sheet.
Ben guffawed. “Won’t happen. They’ll put on innocent faces and try to ignore the facts. By then, we’ll know enough of the truth to share with the police.”
“She has Erik.”
“We have Sam, Rick, and Jack Grant. And don’t forget Carl.”
“I took self-defense classes and I was fairly athletic.”
Ben laughed. “There you are, then. You don’t need us.”
“You’re too confident—I’m realistic.” I lifted the cookies one by one onto the wire rack. “Killing Jack was no easy feat.”
“Probably not.”
“It took a lot of nerve or she took him off-guard.”
“We take them off-guard. Piece-a cake.”
“Your ideas on getting them to admit they killed Harwood sound too easy, if you ask me.”
Ben hadn’t thought things through. His relaxed stance and the gleam in his eyes expressed reckless bravery. A raging ghost was frightening enough. I expected worse from the Fowlers after experiencing the pain and aftereffects of Dana’s poison and sedation. Yet he left the kitchen without trying to change my mind. Maybe my opinion did matter.
Caleb snuck back into the kitchen and climbed up on the center rattan stool. He kicked his foot against the panel while watching me wipe down the countertops.
“Quiet feet, buddy.”
Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Rick and Carl walked into the kitchen, their conversation much like the one Ben and I’d just had.
Rick took the stool next to Caleb. “Got time to pour us some milk, Mal?”
“Please.”
Carl focused on his phone. He spoke to us as he stepped over to the breakfast bar. “Got a message here from one of the guys at the station. An auto parts store manager gave information on that SUV. His camera picked up the vehicle speeding past his store on its way of the parking lot. SUV belongs to a man in south Minneapolis.”
“That’s good,” I said.
“No. Not good. The owner insists he parked his SUV outside his garage by the alley. He had a lot of people over for supper who will confirm he never left.”
“A dead end,” said Rick.
“Seems so.”
“Carl, ask your friend to see if the man’s wife is Erik Fowler’s sister.” I pushed glasses of milk toward my son and brother.
Carl looked puzzled.
“A hunch. The Fowlers went to Erik’s sister’s that same evening.”
“In south Minneapolis?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“Dana helped herself to his keys.” Rick pulled a rack of cookies toward himself and Caleb.
I left them to finish their snacks and found Ronnie sitting on the sofa, her crutches rested against the end table. Mom sat across the room holding a book but gazed out the window. Ronnie readjusted her pillows and I sat down beside her.
“I want this night over and done with,” I said, “especially if Jack rears his head like he did last time.”
“Glad I missed it.”
“You won’t this time. Ben thinks the Fowlers will leave.”
Ronnie’s expression soured. “Or they’ll ignore whatever Harwood’s ghost says. Dana will focus on the lie. She’ll claim it was all a huge mistake, she’s sorry, and then she’ll gush and give everybody hugs.”
“She’ll never admit she killed anybody.”
“She won’t have to. Her reaction will say enough.”
Mom stopped rocking. “I wonder where Judith is. It’s getting late.”
“She’ll be here, Mom.”
“We have two hours before the Fowlers show up,” said Ronnie.
Mom laid her book on the table. “I can’t stand all this waiting around. I think I’ll find Natalie and take Caleb to Pam’s early.”
The kitchen door scraped open fifteen minutes later. There was a brisk clicking on the stone floor before Sage trotted into the living room, panting, with her nose dropped to the carpet. She sniffed and whimpered as she moved about the room u
ntil she reached the staircase.
Judith followed the dog. “No need to alarm Diane, Mallory. What my sister doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” Judith sauntered over and sat on her heels beside her dog. She snuggled close to the dog’s head. “She knows a spirit is here. She’s picked up its essence.”
I grabbed my jacket from the front closet. “How about checking outside?”
Rick was sitting on the white bench when Judith and I brought the dog into the backyard. He got up and walked over to where we stood at the bottom of the veranda steps.
“Let her go once. See what she does,” he said.
Judith unclipped the leash. Sage made a straight line to the white bench.
“What is she smelling?” I asked.
Judith rolled a shoulder. “A morsel of dropped food, a stray dog’s urine. Death.” Judith walked over and circled the round patio with the dog.
The French doors opened and Ben stepped out onto the veranda. He leaned against the railing and watched a few moments before jogging down the stone steps to move his bike into the garage. As the garage door lowered, Jack Grant’s sports car pulled up the driveway. They joined the rest of us watching the dog paw at the lopsided flagstone.
Judith stood perfectly still. She pointed downward with both forefingers. “This spot is significant.” She looked at me for answers. I had none.
“I want to see how she reacts at the hedge,” I said.
Rick stayed behind with Mom and the others while Judith, Sage, Ben, Grant, and I headed to the park. I no sooner pointed out the hedge when Sage bolted, dragging her leash. Grant chased after her.
“Let her run!” Judith called out. She glanced at Ben and me over her shoulder. “Other times she’s taken off, I thought the spirit may have whistled.”
Sage sniffed the length of the hedge, crawled on her belly inside the hedge and out again. Ben and Grant made their own inspection and confirmed the rotting odor remained. Neither man nor dog discovered a carcass. The dog clawed the ground near the hedge as though unearthing a bone. She stopped digging after half a foot, more or less, lifted her head and sniffed the air.
“Any vibes, Mrs. Johnston?” Grant called out.
Judith stood several feet away from him, closer to the hedge than me. “Most definitely!” she called back. “Residual energy leftover from an act of violence!”
Judith strolled over to Grant and Ben, and I joined them. “If I were a betting woman, I’d wager a link to your friend’s disappearance is buried beneath your patio.”
Ben rested his hand against his chin. “Mallory’s dad thought a dog dug up the dirt. Maybe a killer buried a weapon.”
“Or dug a grave,” I said. “A body might explain why the stones lift.”
“Not because a corpse lies beneath,” said Judith. “The stones lift because the spirit comes and goes.”
I froze with phone in hand.
“Who were you calling?” she asked.
“Carl. To dig up the patio.”
Judith threw up her hands. “Wait! Let me conduct the séance before he goes digging for bodies. Tomorrow, the police can excavate the entire yard.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Grant hooked Sage’s leash back onto her collar, and we made our way back to the house. Aunt Judith elaborated on the disruption we’d experienced when Harwood’s spirit channeled through her before. She agreed with me that we might be in for a horrendous evening but added the séance needed to be done.
Caleb busied himself at the breakfast bar vigorously coloring monkey pictures. He never noticed all of us burst in from the side porch. I noticed he’d pushed aside his less-than-half-eaten supper plate and appeared oblivious to the people visiting in the living room, even if they were simply chatting away as though lazing on a Sunday afternoon.
Judith went into the dining room, where Mom had Rick put another leaf in the table.
She rested her arm on Mom’s shoulder. “You’ve set up already.”
Mom fingered the edge of Grandma’s white tablecloth and smiled proudly. Judith was smiling, too, when she glanced back over her shoulder after slipping a soft instrumental into the CD player on the corner table.
I realized then how she had won a huge battle when we asked her to conduct a séance. Her gift finally gained the recognition she believed it deserved. She won a greater battle when Mom lent the house for the event. Judith struck a match and lit long sticks of cinnamon and sandalwood incense set in the porcelain vases on the china cabinet across the room.
Caleb started tapping his foot against the panel beneath the counter like he had earlier in the afternoon. I wrapped my arm around Ben’s waist. “Mom and I have told him before. He needs to quit doing that.”
Ben held his hand to his forehead, showing unease over my hint that he reprimand his son for the first time. We went to the kitchen doorway and peeked in together.
“Caleb,” said Ben.
Caleb glanced at us over his shoulder.
“Give it a rest, pal. No more kicking.”
Caleb swiveled a half circle and contorted his expression.
“Why is he looking at me that way?” Ben whispered.
I shook my head and shrugged. “Giving you the old Halloween creepy face. Relax. He’s six.”
“I don’t think that’s it. Something about him is off.”
I glanced at Caleb and consoled Ben. “He’s fine. He loves you.”
We joined the others in the living room to listen to Judith explain how the evening would proceed. After a while, Ben politely asked her to hush. Caleb’s monkey rhyme echoed from the kitchen. Each time he repeated the verse, his voice grew louder, more forceful.
“Four little monkeys snoopin’ ’round my hedge,
They got lucky instead of dead.
Mama called the doctor and the doctor said,
‘Don’t let monkeys snoop around that hedge.’”
He croaked out the next verse.
“Two wicked monkeys lured me to a hedge.
One grabbed the ball bat and bashed in my head.
The other dug a deep hole, and my killer said,
‘Four trusting monkeys not yet dead!’”
Mom shrieked into her hands. Rick crossed the room to comfort her. Natalie dropped into the chair behind them.
I shivered. “Ben?”
He stepped into the dining room doorway.
Judith moved toward him. “Hold on. Give him a minute. See if the words change again. The spirit is channeling through him.”
Carl’s face reddened. “Judith, you need to stop this game you’re playing. You’re messing with that kid’s head.”
“He will be fine,” she argued.
“No, no he won’t.” Carl clenched his fists. “I’m putting an end to this.”
As Carl brushed past Ben, Ben reached out and grabbed hold his arm. “You wait a minute. That kid is my son, not yours.”
“He is not in danger!” Judith exclaimed. “The boy is the spirit’s voice. It is channeling the warning, because when he reached out, Caleb let him in. The spirit knows the child belongs to Mallory and Ben.”
The edginess in her voice convinced me of the spirit’s conviction, his need for justice, and his desire to warn us of the potential for murder. My fears abated when I recalled the Jack Harwood I’d known in life would never have hurt a child.
“This is why I’m concerned about how Jack will manifest his desperation during the séance,” I said.
Ronnie added her concern. “He understands Dana’s derangement. He is warning us—let Caleb speak.”
“Yes,” said Judith. “Caleb will forget.”
I slipped past Ben and Carl. “It’s like a game they’re playing.” I went toward the kitchen and stopped near the doorway and watched my son. He was coloring without any care.
“If you think your boy is playing a game with a ghost . . .” Carl grunted and coughed. “You’re as crazy as Judith. A kid can’t forget a gruesome poem like that. You people
are crossing the line into child endangerment. All of you. It’s wrong.”
“Please, Carl. Listen to them,” Mom pleaded.
He glared at her for a moment then turned again to walk toward the kitchen.
Ben held him back again. “Here’s what’s wrong, Carl: the murders of Jack Harwood and Lance Garner. Dana attempting to kill Mallory and Ronnie. Twice, no less. Once she finds out Jack Grant and I are back, it’s a matter of time before she murders us all—‘four trusting monkeys not yet dead.’”
Carl shifted his feet back and forth. “I won’t be part of this, Holland.”
“Fine,” said Ben. “Then get out of here unless you can tell us how and where to find proof those two killed anybody. We’re all ears, man.”
Carl bowed his head. “I admit those people look suspicious.”
Ben continued. “But your buddies haven’t found any proof, and they can’t lock them up without evidence or a confession. We’ve got one victim practically screaming the facts at us and it’s time we listened on his terms before somebody else dies.”
“You’re only going along with Judith’s charade to get in good with the family.”
My mother whimpered, “Carl. No.” She went to his side. He pulled free and stormed out the front door.
“That’s right.” Judith held her head high. “There’s no room for nonbelievers in this house. Let him go, Diane. And you three ought to leave, too,” she said, nodding toward Mom, Natalie, and Caleb. “The Fowlers will be here soon.”
Natalie kissed Rick goodbye and lingered a moment with her arms around him. Sam helped Ronnie into the dining room and into her chair next to Judith’s designated place at the head of the table.
Ben and I went to the kitchen and readied Caleb to leave for Pam’s. Mom padded after us, holding tissues against her nose.
We said little about having lost Carl’s support. Mom expressed more concern for Caleb’s well-being than whether or not her friendship with Carl was over. Judith explained the spirit would stop channeling through Caleb when he was satisfied we understood his message. Until then, no one, including Carl, could keep the spirit away from our son. The rest of us congregated in the dining room, anticipating the Fowler’s arrival for a good twenty minutes.
