by Ally Gray
“Haunted? And did you say black food coloring? That stuff is disgusting!” Nathan shuddered as he spoke.
“Thank you! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them, but the bride of Frankenstein insists on it!” Jeremiah called out, leaning forward to look at Nathan gratefully as the only other male at their conglomeration of tables.
“People, can we focus here? Dead bodies? Screaming ghosts? No place to host the governor’s daughter’s wedding? And how do you even know what black food coloring tastes like? Have you been frequenting undead festivities behind my back?” Stacy asked, linking her arm through his under the table.
“Nope. Didn’t your senior class have a graduation cake somebody’s mom on the PTO made, complete with a stupid icing mortar board? It turned everyone’s teeth black and tasted like old bathroom cleaner. And before you ask, that was just a poetic comparison for the sake of drama. I don’t know what bathroom cleaner actually tastes like.” He signaled to the waitress for a drink, and circled his hands around the table in front of him to ask for another round. “But did you say dead person?”
“Yes, the one at the Blanchard House. You were there, remember?” Stacy muttered with her lips pressed to the rim of her glass, hoping the bubbling noise her words made against the amber liquid would mask the name. No such luck.
“Blanchard House? Isn’t is still a crime scene?”
“Um, not exactly,” Stacy said as she cringed. “The bride still plans to go forward with the wedding, and thinks the recent event just ups the gruesome factor. But if the cops don’t figure out what’s happening in that house, I can’t make any promises. I’ve gotten verbal confirmation that we can still have the wedding there, though, as the death was ruled a suicide, but we do have several backup haunted mansions on standby in case this one doesn’t come through.”
“Wait, we have a database of haunted houses in our system?” he asked, rubbing his forehead to massage his temples as several heads around the table nodded at once. “Pray tell, may I ask why?”
“You know, it’s really better that you don’t overthink it. Just drink your beer and forget about it.” Stacy smiled sweetly and Nathan opened his mouth to argue, but shut it and nodded his head.
After the group called it a night and headed home their separate ways, Nathan followed Stacy to her car, pinning her back against the driver’s side door and slipping his hands around her waist. He kissed the side of her neck and was most of the way to biting gently on her earlobe when she cut him off.
“Nice try, Romeo, but work comes early. My boss wouldn’t like it if I was late.”
“I have it on good authority that your boss would love it if you were late since you’d have to marry him sooner.” Nathan looked up and gave Stacy a smirk at his own play on words. She rolled her eyes in response.
“Nice. A period joke. The class just oozes and oozes. You be careful what you say around a lady, or I’ll tell my boss you’re using uncouth manners.”
“Your boss is a complete and total ass. Ignore him,” he breathed against her skin, sending a really pleasant chill up her spine. “Come home with me instead. We can talk about our wedding for a change.”
“Yeah right, the only details you’d want to talk about tonight are the honeymoon. Besides, I can’t. I’ve got to find a haunted mansion that doesn’t mind letting me throw a party inside. Call me tomorrow?”
He narrowed his eyes slightly as he watched his fiancée’s face. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked quietly.
“What, you mean go home by myself?”
“No, I mean… are you sure you want to marry me? Because if you’ve changed your mind, I promise, there’s no hard feelings. I’ll be completely crushed, but—”
“Nathan! What are you saying? Of course I want to marry you! I’ve just got a lot happening right now, especially since I’m running your company!” She fought to take the angry edge out of her voice. The least he could do was understand how much work was involved in this job.
“And you’re sure it’s not just because… uh, never mind.”
“Oh no you don’t, you don’t throw it out there and then not tell me what you were going to say! I hate that!” She put her hands on her hips and waited for him to continue. Nathan looked away first.
“Are you sure it’s not because you’re afraid I’d fire you if you broke up with me?” He regretted the words as soon as he said them, but it was a thought that had been eating at him ever since the first time she’d put off making any plans for their wedding.
“I cannot believe you just let those words fly out of your mouth. Is that really what you think of me?” she said, struggling to keep the anger and the tears at bay.
“No! But I gotta admit, every time you throw yourself into planning everybody’s wedding but ours, it hurts a little! I take that back… it hurts a lot! Everybody’s special day comes first with you!”
Stacy opened her mouth to argue, but snapped it shut before she could say anything they’d both regret. It was a carefully honed skill learned at the feet of her wonderful mentor, and it had served her well almost every single day of her professional life. She just never thought she’d need it with the man she loved.
“I love you, and I want to marry you. But the time to talk about this is not in the middle of the night after we’ve both had a long, trying day. I’m going home, but we’ll talk about this when we’re both calm and awake.”
Nathan stepped back, frustration showing through his boyish but adoring grin. “Sure. But call me when you get home, let me know you made it, okay? Please?” She agreed and kissed him one last time before getting in her car and starting the engine. She waved at him before driving off, kicking herself for being the reason for the forlorn puppy dog look on his face.
At home, she washed the cigarette-and-spilled beer smell of their favorite dive bar out of her hair and changed into pajamas. Stacy had learned the hard way to wear full pajamas and keep a robe handy at all times, having twice before been awakened in the middle of the night by a hysterical bride who was surprised to see her in an oversized t-shirt. Coincidentally, both instances had involved a bride who’d attempted to surprise her groom with a pre-nuptial romantic opportunity, only to find him already taking full and glorious advantage of a bridesmaid. In one instance, it had been the bride’s twin sister, and no, mistaken identity did not suffice as a defense in that case.
She tried to work on the problem at hand, but her thoughts were still with the devastated looking man she’d left in a parking lot that evening. Was there any truth to his accusations? Was she really avoiding making any plans because it was more fun to be engaged to him than married? She grew angry all over again at his insinuation that she was only stringing him along to keep her job, as though there was even a shadow of a doubt that she needed him in that way, or that she couldn’t waltz out of his life and have her pick of jobs lined up before sunrise the next day. She was better than that, she was Anastacia East, the head of the most sought after business of its kind.
Stacy eventually gave in to the desire for soul-resting sleep when a yawn nearly gave her double vision. Agnes Fearnot’s salvation would have to wait. Stacy had to put the hurtful conversation behind her, and her only hope was to sleep like the dead.
* * *
“Okay, we need a game plan,” Stacy announced to her two best friends in her office the next morning. The sleep had at least given her enough focus to come up with a plan to make a plan. “Here’s where we stand: Tori, you don’t believe in ghosts and you think there’s a logical explanation for all of this. Jeremiah, you’re apparently firmly in the ‘ghosts are real and I’m outta here’ camp.”
“And don’t forget, I’ve got Jebbie on my side. Technically, that means I get two votes, and my votes say we move this shindig somewhere else.” He shot Tori a confident look, ignoring her when she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Jebbie doesn’t get a vote in this, unless he plans to cater both the rehearsal dinner and the recept
ion, which now that I think about it might not be a bad idea.” Stacy jotted a note down on her notepad to check on that. “Now, I think there must be some kind of possibility that we’re not considering. Let’s look at the facts.”
The three of them reviewed what they knew about the dead body, the strange events, even Mr. Lariviere’s refusal to take part in the property’s event of the decade. No suspect was off the list, as far as they were concerned.
“You know who I really don’t like in all this? That schmarmy reporter guy,” Jeremiah said with a frown. “He actually took pictures of them loading the lady in the coroner’s van, but he did it from the woods. He didn’t have to do that. Once a suspected crime has been committed, it becomes news and a reporter can cover it. So why take pictures from the woods like a crazed stalker?”
Stacy started to answer but stopped in mid-sentence. She held up her hand for silence, giving both Tori and Jeremiah pause as they watched her blank expression.
“Jeremiah, you’re a genius,” she whispered.
“As you’ve said over the years, but what did I do this time?” he asked curiously.
“Not the flowers… the murder.”
Chapter 8
“Why do I have to be the dead lady?” Tori wailed again, trying not to let the tears pricking her eyes turn into full-blown ugly crying.
“Because you’re the one who says she doesn’t believe in ghosts!” Stacy answered, cinching the knots a little tighter on the climbing rope that ran through Tori’s harness. “Besides, it’s only for a little while, then we’ll come cut you down!”
“I still don’t see what this is supposed to prove. The dead lady is in the morgue right now, not the house!”
“It might not prove anything, but it’s the only way I could come up with. Just make sure you leave this rope with plenty of slack, just in case,” Stacy explained, climbing down from the ladder and looking up at Tori to survey her handiwork.
“Just in case OF WHAT?!”
“Nothing. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“That’s what Persephone thought,” Jeremiah muttered to Stacy. She nodded, but pushed him behind her before Tori could catch on to what he was saying.
“Okay, we’re not gonna leave you, but we have to stay out of sight. We’re gonna get in my car and drive off so it looks like we left, then we’ll creep back to the house. We won’t be gone more than ten minutes. You’ll be fine for ten minutes, right?”
“No! You can’t leave me alone in this house! It’s dark and spooky and what if…” Tori clamped a hand over her mouth before she could finish her sentence. Stacy looked at her questioningly but Tori shook her head.
“What if what? What if… the ghost comes back, you mean? I thought you didn’t believe in all that nonsense.”
“I don’t! But it’s still dark in here. A lady died in here, you know! It’s gross! Stacy, I swear I’m gonna make you pay for this if it’s the last thing I do!”
“It’s all right, honey! It’s just for a few minutes, then we’ll be right back to keep you company. I promise.” Stacy smiled reassuringly before turning to go, then screamed when she turned her flashlight on a face that appeared in the doorway.
“Why are you here?” the face asked in a slow, droning voice, a voice that was more puzzled than frightening.
“Oh my god, Corey! You scared me!” Stacy cried. Jeremiah clutched at his heart and Tori tried to look blasé about the fact that she was dangling from an exposed beam in the ceiling.
“What the heck are you folks doin’ in here?”
“Well we, um… what are you doing here?” Stacy demanded before realizing how stupid her comeback sounded.
“I live in the guesthouse. I saw lights and movement in here and thought I’d better check. I do hope you have a really good explanation for this, because it looks like it’s about time to call Mr. Lariviere,” he said warily, eyeing Tori for a few moments before turning his gaze on Stacy.
“No! Don’t do that! It’s really, really important that you do the opposite of that!” Stacy gushed before she realized how crazy she sounded. Her reputation was on the line, sure, but the curator had enough contempt for her already. Any efforts he made to get to the bottom of her behavior were sure to expose the company and out them all as fraudsters who still acted in Abigail’s long-dead name.
“Then you’ve got about ten seconds to tell me what’s going on,” he ordered, crossing his arms and waiting for an explanation.
“Jeremiah, can you tell him? While the two of you go move the car? It’s urgent!”
He nodded. “Corey, let’s talk on the way to the car. We’re on a pretty tight schedule if we want this ghost thing to pan out.” He led the young caretaker away, and Stacy heard their muffled voices growing quieter as they walked down the stairs. The front door shut behind them, and for good measure she risked a peek out the window to make sure they got in the car and drove off.
“Whew! That was close! But look on the bright side, now I get to wait here with you!” Stacy said after a few minutes of awkward and somewhat frightening silence. She tried to keep her voice upbeat even though she’d plunged the two of them into complete darkness by shutting off her flashlight.
“Oh yeah, that makes me happy. I’m trapped in a dark, haunted mansion with the woman who tied me up and hung me from the ceiling. You’re right, it’s really awesome having you here.” She wanted to stay mad, but her voice quaked slightly with fear even as she rolled her eyes at Stacy.
“Don’t take that tone with me! You were the one who said there’s no such thing as…” Stacy began, but was interrupted by the faintest noise, a clawing noise coming from somewhere in the ceiling above their heads. They both looked up, but without the light to shine on the space up above they couldn’t see anything.
“Stacy!” Tori hissed in a frightened whisper. “The rope is moving! Something’s moving the rope!” She kicked her feet in the air uselessly as she struggled with the harness. The vibrations that moved along the rope above her continued, sending a chill down her spine. “I swear Stacy, get me out of here!”
Stacy fumbled with the flashlight, turning it over and over in her hands and looking for the on switch. She only succeeded in dropping it, and she crawled on her hands and knees in the direction of the sound it made as it rolled across the hardwood floors. In the blackness, she rammed her head against the wrought-iron bed frame, then sat back on her heels and grabbed at the top of her head with both hands. The surprising stab of pain had just subsided when Tori let out a high-pitched scream and fell to the floor, landing on top of Stacy.
They scrambled to untangle themselves and only succeeded in having Tori’s foot kick the flashlight further out of reach. Stacy heard it scrape across the floor and followed the sound, relieved when her fingers closed around the cool metal barrel. She flipped it on and shined the light in Tori’s face for a second.
“Hey! Move that!” Tori whispered harshly while swatting at Stacy’s hand. Stacy almost dropped it again but remembered to hang onto it while her friend slapped at the light. She jerked it away out of reach then pointed it directly overhead. They saw only a flash of gray movement overhead before the room was still again.
“Stace, I want to go home,” Tori whimpered, grabbing her friend’s elbow. Stacy shushed her, still pointing the light towards the ceiling and watching for any sign that they weren’t alone in the room.
It was quiet for a matter of seconds before a snake-like shape dropped down on them, causing them both to scream and swat at the object, trying to free it from their hair. They scrambled away until their backs were pressed against the bedroom wall, when Stacy finally aimed the beam of light on the object.
“It’s just your rope, silly!” Stacy insisted, kicking herself for getting taken in by fear.
“No it’s not! Look!” Tori reached behind her and held up the piece of rope that was still attached to her harness. Its ends had been torn in two and were already starting to fray. “See? Mine’s this purple
climbing rope that Mandy had in her trunk from indoor rock climbing class. That stuff’s from a hardware store!”
“Wait, I’ve seen that rope before. That’s the rope that was tied around Persephone’s body.”
“Ewwwwww! Dead lady rope! And it was in our hair!” Tori cried, feeling her dark brown curls for any more sign of it.
“But that doesn’t make sense,” Stacy said aloud to herself, “how would that rope get back in this room?”
“I want to get out of here. In fact, you win. Ghosts are real, I said it. I do believe, I do believe!” Tori said, clapping her hands together like the kids in Peter Pan. Stacy put her hands over Tori’s and hushed her again.
“Do you hear that?”
“No! I refuse to hear anymore noises! No more sounds, no more floating objects, no more anything! I want to go home!”
She stood up to leave and threw open the door to the bedroom, but jumped back in horror when a woman’s form stood framed in the doorway. Instead of recoiling in fright, her adrenaline kicked in. Tori tucked her chin, hunched her shoulders, and tackled the woman, ramming the top of her head into the woman’s midsection as hard as she could. The woman fell backwards and landed with a weak cry, the air having been knocked out of her lungs by Tori’s attack.
“Stop, Tori!” Stacy put her arms around her friend’s torso, pinning her arms and holding her still.
It took several minutes for the woman to regain her breath. She lay staring at the ceiling, her hands pressed to her stomach as she fought for air.
“Great. You not only killed the governor’s wife, you killed the mother of the bride. We’re not supposed to do that, you know.”
“I know! But what was I supposed to do? She snuck up on us!” Tori answered, still in beast mode from her attempts to fight a ghost in a darkened mansion.
