Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 08 - Trick Or Treat Or Murder

by Janet McNulty

  Forget the fact that there was no moon at the moment. Almost there. Just a few more feet and I was home free. I heard a distinct—Snap! Not good. I felt the wood give way under my feet. Crack—Pop! A moment of weightlessness took hold of me before I tumbled to the ground landing directly on top of Rachel.

  “Hey!” she said.

  “Sorry,” I replied.

  “I think you broke something,” Rachel pushed me off.

  “Yeah,” I said picking myself up and brushing off the bits of grapevine, “Me.”

  “Well, it took you long enough.”

  “Oh, shut up.” I picked leaves out of my hair. What a mess.

  A small light flickered in the distance. It had to be that guy we had run into earlier. I was willing to bet anything that Alice was with him. “Come on,” I said to Rachel as I took off.

  The wind picked up and I knew we were in for a storm. More lightning flashed as the thunder approached. I hoped it wouldn’t start raining anytime soon. The last thing I wanted was to be caught out here in a downpour.

  I took a quick peek into the giant windows where the guests still waited impatiently to go home. Detective Shorts moved from person to person asking questions. He looked as though he was getting close to wrapping up. Time was running out.

  Picking up speed, I dashed across the damp grass and leaves that scurried about in the wind. Leaves crunched under my shoes. I cursed at the noise I made. Quickly, I ran across the yard to where I had seen the light. It seemed to be near the brook that ran through the property.

  “Come on, slowpoke,” chided Rachel.

  I gave her a nasty look. I knew she was only joking, but sometimes it wore on me. Especially when my lungs burned for air. My feet ached from the heels I wore as I ran. Of all the times to be wearing fancy shoes and a dress.

  I paused behind the giant trunk of a maple tree once I reached the tree line. Catching my breath, I leaned against the gnarled trunk, my chest heaving. Rachel panted as well, no doubt to make me feel better.

  “You know, all this running really wears you out,” she huffed.

  I grinned at her. “For a ghost, you’re really out of shape.”

  “Am not,” retorted Rachel.

  I peeked around the tree and noticed a small row boat parked on the brook. The brook wasn’t wide enough to be a river, but it looked as though it could carry a small canoe, hence the small boat. He and Alice stood two feet apart; their raised voices indicated that they argued.

  “Where is the money?” demanded the man.

  “I don’t have it,” said Alice, her voice shook.

  “You said you could get it. That you knew where it was.”

  “I thought I did,” replied Alice,

  “I want my cut,” growled the man.

  “Why did you kill, Harold?” demanded Alice. Killing Harold Smythe must not have been a part of their plan—or not Alice’s.

  “I did what I had to,” said the man.

  “Had to? Your stupidity is what called the cops here!”

  A harsh smack echoed around us as the man slapped Alice hard enough to knock her head back. He snatched her wrists and yanked her close to him. Poor Alice shook in fear as she tried to get away. Pangs of sympathy filled my stomach.

  “Don’t you ever question me or my methods again,” snarled the man, his face inches away from Alice’s ear.

  “Please,” she begged, “you’re hurting me.” Her face contorted in pain as the man squeezed even harder.

  “That—” Rachel started to march towards him.

  “I put my arm out stopping her. ”Not yet.”

  “But he’s hurting her.”

  “We need to know the full story,” I whispered, “And we need to make him confess in front of the cops.”

  “How are we to do that?” asked Rachel.

  “I’m working on it,” I said. “But first we need to make sure he doesn’t escape.”

  “Do you understand me?” demanded the man. “Or I swear, Connie, you’ll suffer the same fate as Harold Smythe. Now get back in there and get my money.”

  He shoved her away releasing her. Alice fell to the ground. Cautiously, she stood up doing her best not to cry.

  I inched my way to the row boat. “Keep him occupied,” I whispered to Rachel.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Rachel disappeared. The next thing I knew, the leaves in the trees rustled repeatedly, but they didn’t match the way the wind blew. I glanced up. Rachel stood on the branches of the trees bouncing and shaking them. Then she jumped from one branch and landed on the branch of another tree making such a raucous that I was sure it would wake the dead.

  “What was that?” asked Alice.

  “The wind,” said the man.

  Rachel reached down and smacked him.

  “What the—” the man whirled around searching for the person that had hit him. Rachel giggled uncontrollably.

  “OOOO, I think I made him mad,” she sang.

  While Rachel toyed around with the guy, I crept over to the boat staying out of sight. Carefully, I undid the rope that tied it down.

  “Who is that?” The man searched the trees, but he didn’t see Rachel hop down.

  Glancing over, I watched as Rachel danced around the man laughing and slapping him. Clearly, she enjoyed herself and I think she overdid it a bit.

  “Connie!”

  Frightened, Alice ran.

  “Connie!”

  Before he decided to run into my direction, I pushed the boat into the water and watched it float downriver. Luckily, the brook had a strong current and carried the small row boat with ease. Though I knew it wouldn’t completely prevent him from getting away, I hoped it would slow him down.

  I searched for Alice. Spotting a faint shape in the distance, I took off after it. Convinced that she hadn’t meant for Harold Smythe to be killed, I decided to try and use that to get her to talk. But first I had to catch her. As I passed by Rachel, I pointed at Alice hoping she would get the message.

  Once again, my feet screamed at me to stop as I charged after Alice. Finally, I tore my shoes off and continued barefoot. My toes squished in the grass as the wind howled around me with flashes of lightning.

  Crack—Kaboom!

  The thunder burst directly overhead. Looks like the storm had reached us. Trees twisting wildly as leaves raced across the ground, I hoped I wouldn’t get struck by lightning. More of it flashed and lit up the entire night sky.

  Alice’s shape was illuminated right in front of me. “Alice!” I called.

  She paused and looked back.

  “Alice, I want to help you!”

  She turned and continued on. I veered after her. Recognizing the area, I realized that she headed for the tunnel. I ran up a small rise remembering that I could use it to cut her off, just like Rachel had used it earlier.

  As I neared the top of the ridge, I knew I had guessed right. Alice ran right below me. She glanced behind again. I noticed she slowed slightly clearly thinking that I had stopped pursuing her. Bracing myself for impact, I jumped down on top of her. We both tumbled to the ground rolling in the grass and dead leaves.

  Alice scrambled to get away. I grabbed her ankles holding tightly and yanked her back. “I want to talk to you!”

  She scratched and clawed at the ground desperate to get away. “Let me go!”

  “Alice!”

  “Please, just let me go. I didn’t mean to kill anybody,” she screamed.

  “I know!”

  Alice stopped struggling. She rolled onto her back and sat up. “You what?” Her voice sounded calmer.

  “I know you didn’t mean to kill Harold Smythe,” I said. “You just want the money. Though why I haven’t figured out.”

  “Please, he’ll kill us both.”

  “That guy?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Look,” I said, “I just want to help you. But you have to let me.”

  Alice jerked her head in the direction of the tunnel. Getting up, I
followed her inside. As luck would have it, we went to the very room that I had discovered earlier with Jackie and Greg.

  “Now, tell me what happened,” I said.

  Chapter 8

  Alice fidgeted a bit as she paced the cold and uninviting room. She grabbed the back of a simple, wood chair for a moment to balance herself, no doubt trying to figure out what to say. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she said, softly.

  “I know,” I told her.

  “I—it wasn’t—what I mean is—I just wanted my inheritance.”

  My face must have betrayed something because Alice immediately straightened up and got an indignant tone.

  “It’s not like that!”

  “Why don’t you start at the beginning?” I said.

  “When I was seventeen, I got arrested for involuntary manslaughter. The thing is, I didn’t do it. Harold Smythe set me up. He had been embezzling money from my father for years, but after my father died all of that would have come out when the inheritance was doled out. Since I already had a record for being a bit of a punk, he decided to cover it up by framing me.”

  “But I don’t get how all that would work,” I said.

  “The man that was killed was the man who set up offshore bank accounts for the money Harold stole,” replied Alice. “By getting rid of him he got rid of the evidence. I was the perfect fall guy. Also, it made it where my sister got everything except for that small bit that was to be set aside. Harold could use that to cover up his indiscretions. But I didn’t want him killed!”

  “So why did you come back?” I asked. “You obviously faked your death. You were home free.”

  “I faked my death to get away from my past. It had worked too, until my son got sick.”

  “Son?’

  “I had married. My husband later died from a degenerative disease. My son has cancer. There is a procedure—it’s different from chemo and still in the experimental stages, but has a higher success rate—but it’s costly. I don’t have the money. I need what my father left me to pay for it.”

  My heart ached for her. I felt really bad. Here she was: a woman who had everything taken from her and now she just wanted to save her son.

  “Did your sister ever know?” I asked.

  “No,” replied Alice, “She knew nothing. I’m sure she found out about how Harold had set me up on manslaughter charges. That would explain why she kicked him out. And the big fight they had a few years ago.”

  “So, who is the guy you’re with?”

  “His name is Miles,” replied Alice. “Connie is the name I took when I set up a new identity. I needed someone to help me break into this house and search for the money. Rumor had it that Harold hid it here.

  “All I planned to do was come here, pass myself off as my sister, and search for the cash. Once I found it I was going to run. But Miles wasn’t who I thought he was. He killed Harold Smythe, not me.”

  “I know,” I said. “How did you meet him?”

  “Through a contact,” replied Alice, “I don’t know the contact’s name. Miles was just supposed to help me search for the money. But he must have found out who I was.”

  “Or, he just wants it all for himself.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Alice.

  “Alice, Miles is probably going to kill you.”

  She rubbed her arm where bruises had formed from Miles’s grip. “He wouldn’t—he—”

  “He will,” I interrupted her. “You’re just a tool to him.”

  “I need to leave,” Alice headed for the door.

  I stopped her. “It’s time to stop running, Alice. I can help you, but I’ll need your cooperation.”

  “What do you want me to do?” she asked.

  “Wait here,” I said, “I am going to get the detective. I want you to tell him what you told me. Together, we’ll figure something out.”

  “That’s a dumb idea,” said Rachel materializing from thin air.

  Alice jumped.

  “Don’t freak out,” I said, “It’s only Rachel. She does this all the time.”

  Alice settled back down, but her eyes stayed glued to Rachel.

  “Well what do you suggest?” I asked.

  “Set a trap!” replied Rachel.

  “And who would be the bait in this trap?” I asked.

  Rachel gave me a devilish grin. Something told me she was looking at the bait.

  “Fine,” I said, “What do you have in mind?”

  “First, we need to get the detective down here.” Rachel vanished. “Don’t go away.”

  And where exactly was I going to go?

  Alice and I waited patiently for Rachel to return with Detective Shorts. I already guessed what he would say to the whole affair; and the fact that I had run off. I was in for it.

  Footsteps sounded from down the hall as they raced down the stairs. Detective Shorts wasn’t alone.

  “Mel!” Jackie’s shrill voice carried nicely as it bounced off the stone walls. I noticed an ounce of worry in there. “Mel!”

  “In here!” I called back.

  Jackie and Greg burst into the room followed closely by Detective Shorts. Rachel skipped behind them all proud of herself. “Here we are to save the day,” she sang.

  “Mel, don’t you ever check your phone?” demanded Jackie.

  “What?” I said.

  “We called you about six times,” said Greg, “but it kept going to voicemail.”

  I pulled out my phone. Sure enough, according to my caller ID they had tried calling me six times, but with the ringer off I never heard it. At least my phone didn’t ring while I was trying to catch Alice. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

  “Miss Summers,” said Detective Shorts, “what is all this? I don’t normally come when summoned, but your friend—” he glanced back at Rachel who had a smug expression on her face, “—was very insistent.”

  “More like she dragged him down here,” said Jackie.

  “Everyone, this is Alice,” I said pointing to Alice as she tried to shrink into a corner and disappear.

  “So she’s alive!” exclaimed Jackie.

  Detective Shorts held up his hand. “Alice, I think you have a lot of explaining to do. Let’s go upstairs.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Miss Summers?”

  “She can explain everything down here,” I said, “We don’t need to cause a scene by taking her upstairs.”

  “Very well,” Detective Shorts crossed his arms with a “go on” look on his face.

  I motioned for Alice to continue. She started off slowly at first—her voice barely audible—but as she continued she became more confident. She explained what had happened when she was still living at home and how she faked her death to start over. She never would have come back if she hadn’t needed the money for her son. Concerned looks crossed Jackie’s and Greg’s faces when she reached that part. Even Detective Shorts’ expression softened some.

  “So this Miles character killed Harold Smythe?” asked the detective.

  “Yes,” replied Alice.

  “And he is still on the grounds?”

  “Yes. He should be by the brook.”

  Detective Shorts sighed. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to take you in and you may end up being charged as an accomplice for murder.”

  “But I didn’t—” began Alice.

  “Miles will most likely say that this was all your idea, which means it will be his word against yours.”

  “How did he know about this place anyway?” asked Greg.

  “I showed him in here,” said Alice, “I used it to sneak into the party. I didn’t think he—” Alice cut herself off.

  “This is why we brought you down here, detective,” I said, “Rachel and I want to set a trap for Miles.”

  Detective Shorts’ eyebrows raised as he realized what I had planned. “No.”

  “But—”

  “No!”

  “It’s the only way!” How was I going to make him go alo
ng with it? “Nothing will go wrong.”

  “Famous last words,” said Detective Shorts.

  “It’s the only way to prove that Alice isn’t a murderer.”

  By his stance, I knew Detective Shorts wasn’t going to budge. Good thing I knew a ghost. “If you don’t let us do this then I’ll have Rachel haunt you for the rest of your life.”

  A worried expression crossed his face. “You’ll what?”

  Rachel latched onto his arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’ll be stuck to you like glue.”

  Detective Shorts looked vexed. Having a ghost hanging around isn’t always a good idea. Sometimes it proved to be a real nuisance. Trust me. I know.

  He pushed Rachel away, straightening his jacket and tie. “Why don’t you tell me what you have in mind?”

  Rachel pouted a bit. I guess she really wanted a chance to haunt someone.

  “Alice is going to find Miles and tell him that I have the money. And that I was Harold Smythe’s closest contact, to make it more believable. She is also going to tell him that I have the only piece of evidence that proves he killed Harold Smythe. Like any murderer, he’s going to want it back.”

  “But how will you get him in here?” asked Alice.

  “I’ll meet him in the garden house,” I said, “Tell him I want to make a trade. Make the story as convincing as possible to get him to show up. While he’s there, I’ll get him to confess to the murder.”

  “That outfit won’t hide a wire,” said Detective Shorts.

  I held up my phone. “This will work just as well.”

  “Go on,” said Detective Shorts.

  “You and your cops will hide outside the garden house. Once I get the confession you can come in and arrest him.”

  “It sounds solid enough,” said Detective Shorts, but I could tell he wasn’t completely sold. Only the threat of Rachel becoming his new best friend kept him from saying so.

  “I don’t like it,” said Greg.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, “Rachel will be there.”

  “And so will we,” Greg said, pointing at Jackie.

  “Now wait a minute,” began Detective Shorts.

  “No way is she going in there alone,” said Greg.

  “Then you two will wait outside the garden house with me,” said Detective Shorts.