Natural Reaction - a Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery

by Terri Reid

  “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, you do.”

  He angled his face and brushed his lips against hers. She moaned softly and he captured it in his mouth. “Mary,” he sighed and crushed his lips against hers.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Ian looked up from his computer when the front door opened and Mary and Bradley entered carrying several large boxes. “Well, welcome,” he said. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”

  “Bradley thought working from here would be less distracting,” Mary said, with a grin. “Besides, I want to see how brilliant you really are.”

  They placed the boxes on the kitchen table and Ian followed them.

  “And what do we have here?” he asked.

  “A legacy of friendship,” Mary replied, taking the top off the first box. “These are samples, photos and notes about the explosion from Ross Gormley.”

  “What?” Ian asked, pulling the top off the next box.

  “Ross didn’t think it was an accident, so he did his own investigation,” Mary explained, “when the authorities wouldn’t listen to him, he carefully catalogued it all, hoping one day someone would ask the right questions.”

  Ian picked up a glass slide and looked at it. “Great, but how are we supposed to study these…”

  Mary opened a third box and pulled out a microscope. “It’s not fancy,” she said. “But I hope it will do the trick.”

  “Aye, it’ll be fine,” Ian said, glancing through the notes. “It looks like he put this information together so it was thorough enough to hold up in a court of law. The man’s brilliant.”

  Two hours later, Ian looked up from his stack of papers and shook his head. “He even has pieces of wire that were taped to the floor that ran back to the detonator.”

  “So, someone was watching to see when the last student got out and then ignited the bomb,” Mary said.

  “So, who is our prime suspect?” Bradley asked. “We’ve got a lot of evidence, but do we have a name?”

  “Well, chemicals and cover ups come from our good friends at B&R,” Ian said.

  “Yeah, but why?” Mary asked. “What would they have against Coach Thorne?”

  The door opened and Rosie and Stanley came in. “I took the long away around,” Stanley said. “I don’t think anyone followed me.”

  “Since I couldn’t go to my place, we stopped by the Historical Society and borrowed a yearbook from the year Coach Thorne died,” Rosie said. “I thought it would be helpful.”

  She opened the book up on the table and turned to the photo of her class.

  “Wow, Walter is a different person,” Bradley said.

  “Really, what’s different?” Mary asked.

  “He’s about four times that size now,” Rosie said. “He doesn’t look healthy at all.”

  Mary told them about the conversation she had with Walter’s father.

  “I wonder if Walter realized just how much Coach Thorne did for his father,” Rosie mused.

  “Probably not,” Stanley said. “Ain’t something a dad would want to share with his teenaged son.”

  “Oh, there’s your friend, Stevo,” Mary said, scanning the photo. “But I don’t see his wife, Lo.”

  “Oh, she wasn’t in our class,” Rosie said. “She was in the class below ours.”

  “She wasn’t in the Chemistry class when the fire occurred?” Mary asked.

  Rosie shook her head. “No, she didn’t have it until the following year.”

  “I’d like to visit with Lo Morris,” Mary said. “She said something that’s been bothering me. I don’t think I’ll be very long, Rosie would you stay here and wait for the children?”

  “Oh, I’d love too,” she said. “I’ll make more cookies.”

  “Oh, Rosie,” Ian said, “Bless you.”

  “If it’s alright with you,” Bradley said. “I’d like to bring this evidence to the lab and get it tested. Ian would you mind giving me a hand?”

  “No, I’d love to hear what the fellows at the lab think of it,” he said, slipping into his coat.

  “Well, iffen you all think it’s fine, I’d like to stop by and talk with Caleb Brandlocker,” Stanley said. “He suffered a stroke a while back, he’s over in the nursing home.”

  “Rosie, what do you think?” Mary asked. “I can stay.”

  Rosie shook her head.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said. “Who would know I was here?”

  Stanley leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You lock that door once we all leave, hear?”

  She giggled. “Yes, dear.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  Caleb Brandlocker was in the private care wing of the nursing home. He had a small room that was a cross between a hospital room and a residence. On his good days he could get himself up and around, but those days seemed to get farther and farther apart.

  Stanley knocked on his door. “Caleb, you taking visitors? It’s me, Stanley Wagner.”

  “Stanley, come in, come in,” Caleb said hoarsely, his voice barely a whisper. “How are you?”

  Stanley walked across the room and shook Caleb’s hand which was thin and frail, very different from the robust businessman who would visit the stationary store when Stanley was running things.

  “I can’t complain, Caleb,” Stanley said. “I got my kids running the store, time on my hands and I’m getting myself a pretty new wife in about a month.”

  Caleb smiled. “You old dog, you,” he said. “A new wife. Ain’t you too old for that?”

  “Never too old to fall in love, Caleb,” Stanley said. “And I seen some pretty cute little nurses out there, you ought to trying dating ‘em.”

  Caleb’s wheezing laughter filled the room for a few minutes and Stanley was happy to see some of the worry lines relax on his face. Finally, after a bout or two of coughing, Caleb was able to speak. “You’re a good man, Stanley,” he said. “And you got a fine family. I envy you.”

  “Well, hell, Caleb,” Stanley said. “I just saw your boy the other day, looks like he could run in the Olympics. He seems to be doing a fine job running your business.”

  Caleb shook his head. “I made mistakes raising that boy,” he admitted. “Thought too highly of him. Made him think he was better, more important than anyone else. Made him think he could have anything he wanted.”

  “Nothing wrong with ambition,” Stanley said.

  Caleb’s hand snaked over to Stanley’s and he held it. “Not ambition,” he said. “Cruelty. The boy’s got bad blood.”

  Stanley’s blood ran cold. “Caleb, I don’t want to disrespect you, but I got to ask you a question. My fiance, Rosie, she’s got someone trying to hurt her because she was looking into the death of Coach Thorne. Did your boy have anything to do with that?”

  Chapter Forty-four

  Bradley and Ian were the last ones to leave and Rosie locked the door firmly behind them. She turned on the television and headed to the kitchen to pull out the baking supplies. A cooking show was demonstrating a new way to bake oatmeal cookies.

  “Well, oatmeal cookies,” she said, “that’s just the thing.”

  Opening the pantry door, she looked up and saw that Stanley had stored the flour canister back up on the top shelf. She glanced up and decided it really wasn’t all that high. Standing on her tiptoes, she reached up for the canister. She could just barely touch it with her fingertips. Sliding her fingers alongside it, she slowly moved it forward. Placing three fingertips on the bottom to hold it upright, she stretched and pushed it forward with the other hand. The canister teetered on the edge of the shelf and fell forward.

  POOF!

  Rosie couldn’t believe it. She was covered in flour, the floor was covered in flour and the shelves were covered in flour. She stamped her foot, causing another cloud of flour. “Well, well, well,” she sputtered, then looked around to be sure no one could hear her and let loose. “Damn!”

  Picking up the whisk brush, she figured she ought to get he
rself cleaned off first. Carefully, trying to avoid getting flour on anything else, she made her way across the kitchen floor and opened the backdoor. She stepped out on the porch.

  “Hello Rosie.”

  Rosie screamed. She tried to run back into the house, but Walter grabbed her arm and she couldn’t move. He placed a strip of duct tape over her mouth and pulled her to him. “I’m sorry Rosie, I really didn’t want to do this, but I don’t want to go to jail.”

  He pulled her arms around her and wrapped duct tape around them. Then he led her down the porch stairs and through the yard to his van, waiting behind the house. “Quite frankly, I never thought it would be this easy. Thank you, Rosie,” he said.

  Chapter Forty-five

  Mary parked in front of the Morris’ house and hurried up the sidewalk. She had a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach and wanted to talk to Lo and get back to Rosie.

  She waited for only a moment after ringing the bell and Lo answered the door. “Hi, I’m Rosie’s friend, Mary,” she said.

  “Of course, I remember you,” she replied. “Won’t you come in?”

  Mary followed Lo into a comfortably appointed home furnished in the colors of autumn; warm and bright. They walked into the living room and Mary sat on a large wheat-colored couch across from Lo. “I was thinking about something you said regarding Coach Thorne,” Mary said. “And I want to ask you about it.”

  Lo nodded.

  “You said he saved many lives and he didn’t care if you were rich and powerful or just one of the little guys,” she said. “I got the feeling there was more to what you were saying than just that. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important, but I need you to tell me what happened.”

  Lo shook her head. “He’s been dead for forty years,” she said. “Why even bother? Who is it going to help?”

  “Last night someone shot at me,” Mary explained. “But they thought I was Rosie.”

  “Oh, no,” Lo gasped. “Is everyone fine?”

  Mary nodded. “For now,” she said. “But now that we started investigating we can’t stop until we find out what happened. For Rosie’s sake.”

  Lo nodded slowly and clasped her hands together. “Brandlocker,” she whispered. “Ephraim Brandlocker. He was a senior and I was a sophomore. His parents were wealthy beyond my imagination and my parents, well, we were not wealthy. He picked me up in his car and took me to nice restaurants. He was nice to me; at least I thought he was being nice to me.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was on the Varsity baseball team,” she said. “He was a pitcher and he was one of their best homerun hitters too. His dad said he was going to the majors.”

  Mary remembered what Charlie said about parents who thought their children were cut out for the big league.

  “So, what happened?”

  “They just won a big game,” she said. “They were going to the Division Finals. Ephraim asked me to wait for him. He went into the locker room with the other guys and I waited by the bleachers for him. By the time he came out it was getting dark and the bleachers were deserted. I told him I needed to go home. But he told me he wanted to celebrate.”

  She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

  “I told him I couldn’t stay and he pushed me into the bleachers. He said I didn’t understand; I was going to be his celebration. I screamed and he put his hand over my mouth. He told me that no one would believe I didn’t want to have sex with him. That no one would believe the poor girl. That his father would ruin my family if I didn’t…cooperate.”

  Lo stood up and walked to the other end of the room. “I kept shaking my head and crying. He pushed me down on one of the seats and started to climb over me,” she took a deep breath. “That’s when Coach Thorne grabbed him by the back of the neck and threw him onto the ground. He grabbed his shirt and pushed him up against the building. He told him if he ever heard of him doing something like this again, he would not only be expelled, he’d be arrested.”

  “What happened to Ephraim?”

  She shook her head. “Money does buy everything,” she said, “Especially in a small town. Coach tried to get him suspended, but the school board wouldn’t allow it. He tried to get some disciplinary action against him, but nothing ever happened. He even kicked him off the team, but the school wouldn’t let him do it. But, the one thing he could do was bench him. Ephraim never played another game with the team. He ended up going to a Junior College and never got a baseball scholarship. He blamed the coach.”

  “Blamed him enough to kill him?” Mary asked.

  Lo nodded. “Ephraim had a lot of anger,” she said. “And no one ever told him no. No one except Coach Thorne.”

  “Did you ever try to press charges?”

  “I left town and moved in with my aunt for the rest of my sophomore year and my junior year,” she said. “My family thought it would be best for me to be gone.”

  “Why?”

  Lo turned back and looked at Mary. “When we were dating, Ephraim would bring me to his father’s fertilizer plant, out on Henderson Road,” she said. “There were huge bins with giant augers that would mix and crush the ingredients together. Ephraim liked catching small animals and throwing them into the bin, just to watch them die. That’s the kind of person he was. That’s why my parents sent me out of town.”

  “That explains a lot of things,” she said. “Thank you for telling me.”

  “Please, don’t let Stevo know,” she said. “Even after all these years, he might be angry…”

  Mary nodded. “I understand,” she said. “I won’t let him know.”

  Mary hurried out to the car; the feeling in the pit of her stomach was growing stronger. She nearly jumped when her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Mary, it’s Ian,” he said. “Rosie’s gone.”

  Chapter Forty-six

  Rosie lay on the back floor of the panel van on a pile of old moving blankets.

  This is so unsanitary. And what is he thinking, there are no seat belts back here, if we were to get into an accident, I could be thrown from this vehicle and killed.

  Killed.

  Walter wants to kill me. Well, I’m never going to date him now, even if he asked nicely.

  That’s ridiculous, stop thinking silly thoughts, you’re engaged now. You can’t date other men anyway.

  Stanley.

  If I die I can’t marry Stanley. I love Stanley. And I think I’ve found the perfect dress. Mary wouldn’t get herself in a situation like this. Mary would have kicked their butts. She gave her head a little shake. No, Mary would have kicked their asses. There I thought it - asses.

  What would Mary do?

  She looked around the van, there really didn’t seem to be a good way to escape, especially since it was moving and her hands were tied. She twisted her wrists; the tape wasn’t sticking very well. It must have been the flour. She wriggled her arms back and forth and the duct tape loosened even more. Soon she was able to slip one of her hands out.

  I’m channeling Mary. I can do this.

  She was jolted around when the van stopped. Remembering Walter shouldn’t know about her hands, she stuck them back together and waited for him to open the door.

  The van door opened and Rosie could see a loading dock. She could see by the collection of weeds and brush overgrowing the area; it hadn’t been used for a long time. Walter reached in and helped her out of the van and the he ripped the duct tape off her mouth and she winced.

  That hurt!

  “I’m real sorry, Rosie,” Walter repeated. “If you had just not seen that ghost…”

  How would Mary answer him?

  “Did you know that Coach Thorne saved your dad’s job?” Rosie asked, trying not to shiver in the cold wind.

  Walter stopped and shook his head. “No, he was preventing my dad from getting tenure.”

  “No, he was covering up for your dad because of the Parkinson’s. Your dad was afraid he was going to get fi
red,” Rosie said. “Coach Thorne stayed late or came in early so he could put together the experiments for your dad’s classes.”

  Walter shook his head. “No, that can’t be true.”

  “Come on, Wally, you remember when your dad got Parkinson’s,” Rosie said. “You must have known there was no way he could measure chemicals for the experiments. Your life would have been ruined without Coach Thorne.”

  Walter grabbed Rosie’s arm and pulled her up the ramp and into the warehouse. “I won’t listen to you,” he said.

  She quickly looked around. The warehouse was nearly empty. There were some pieces of broken wooden pallets scattered around, a rusted dumpster with pipes, cardboard and lumber overflowing from it and a number of white plastic 55 gallon barrels that looked fairly new.

  “You won’t listen to me because you know I’m right,” she said, pulling away from him towards the dumpster. “Don’t be a coward, Wally, at least admit that.”

  Walter was breathing heavy, sweat rolling on his forehead, when he stopped and looked at Rosie. “Maybe it’s true and maybe you’re right,” he said. “But there’s nothing I can do about it now. My hands are tied.”

  She slipped one hand out of the duct tape. “Well mine aren’t,” she yelled, grabbing one of the pipes and swinging it towards Walter.

  The pipe swung forward, but then stopped. Rosie looked over her shoulder and saw a tall man had caught the end of the pipe.

  “He’s trying to hurt me,” Rosie said, struggling to pull the pipe out of the man’s hands. “You have to let go.”

  “Wally, will you please take control of this situation,” Ephraim ordered, ripping the pipe out of her hands.

  Wally grabbed both of Rosie’s arms from behind and held her. “What do you want me to do?”

  Ephraim smiled and walked over to electrical box and flipped the switch. “We’re going to allow our friend Rosie to get closer to nature,” he said softly, walking to another control panel.