by J. A. Howell
“Where in the hell do you put it?!”
“I'd like to think that the diner is to thank for my boobs.” She let out a wicked cackle.
“If I even think about a meal like that my ass would go up a size.” I shook my head, still disbelieving that such a small girl could have such a big appetite.
“That hardly sounds like a problem.” Aggie said as she held the earrings up to her head.
“It certainly was for my ex.” I cringed a little.
“Well then, Harley, it sounds like he is an ex for a good reason.”
“You're right about that, at least.”
“I know I am. Besides, there are men much more appreciative of a girl with an arse he can grab onto!” Aggie regarded me with a scheming smirk, “I know Nolan certainly seems to appreciate it. Several times most days.”
“Aggie!”
“What? It’s true. The man likes a well-fed arse.”
I shook my head in denial, even as my mind thought back to Nolan’s wandering gaze at the laundromat. I kept silent but she continued.
“I’ve known Nolan most of my life. I can tell when he’s sweet on someone. As far as he’s concerned, you might as well be that fresh baked pie sitting on the window sill.” She cooed a few inches from my ear. I brushed her away, but she only laughed, taking enjoyment in the redness spread over my cheeks and neck.
“Pie or not, I’m not in the type of position to explore any such...avenues.” I chose my words carefully as I maintained my composure, my eyes connecting with hers for a moment.
“Fair enough. Nolan’s a bit on the shy side, so it’s not like he’ll pursue you if you don’t show any interest.” Aggie nodded before heading to another booth. “Won’t stop him from looking though, that’s for sure.”
Aggie and I spent the rest of the morning and the early part of the afternoon perusing the farmers' market. I loaded up on some fresh produce but didn't bother buying any jewelry like Aggie. As pretty as some of it was, it only made me think of Jackson. He had impeccable taste when it came to that kind of thing and early on he liked to surprise me with such impromptu gifts. Tear drop diamond earrings, a tennis bracelet, a gorgeous sapphire pendant. He really knew how to spoil a girl. I'd never been big on jewelry but those bright grey eyes of his sparkling just as much as the gems in his hand had pulled me under his spell. That look he had, the one I mistook for adoration and sincerity, always melted me. I wish I'd seen the fine print before I'd let him slide that necklace around my neck or that bracelet over my wrist. If only I'd realized he'd meant for them to be my shackles.
You're mine!
“Harley, are you alright? You look pale.” Aggie's voice cut into my thoughts as I looked up from a jewelry display. The corners of her lips turned down into a frown as she gave me a discerning look.
“Oh, I'm fine.” I smiled, “I need to find a restroom. I think all that soda we drank earlier is catching up to me.” An unconvincing laugh did nothing to quell the suspicion behind her green eyes, but finally she shrugged and pointed me towards the restrooms.
“I'll be in this area when you're done.” Aggie sighed, turning to a rack of handmade clothing. I gave her another glance then headed towards the restrooms. I had remembered seeing a few payphones nearby. I couldn't hold off calling my mom any longer. Between the increasingly creepy apartment and the situation with Jackson, I had to talk to her. The cluster of payphones came into view as I rounded the corner past the restrooms. I peeked over my shoulder to ensure Aggie wasn't anywhere to be seen, then dug a few quarters from my purse before dialing my mother's number.
“Hello?” Her familiar cheery voice answered a few rings later.
“Momma?” I couldn't help but smile at the sound. God I miss her.
“Harley!? Is that you, baby doll?”
“Yep it's me. Sorry I couldn't call you sooner. I miss you.” As much as I had wanted to leave Louisiana for so many years, a tinge of homesickness stung me at the sound of her voice.
“I was so worried about you! So was Jackson. He came here, you know? Said you two had a bit of a fight and that you took off. Where in the heck are you? I've never seen this area code in my life!” I wished I could tell her everything, but there was no way. I didn't have the time or the luxury of telling her right now.
“I can't tell you where I am. Just wanted you to know that I'm safe. And Momma, don't talk to Jackson anymore.” I kept my words steady. “He’s not a good guy.”
“Harley, what did he do to you?”
A knot formed in my chest, pulling taut as I fought to keep composure. I wanted to pour out everything to her. Shit, I wanted her here so she could hold me and tell me everything would be fine. Right now, nothing felt that way.
“I can’t talk about it right now. I need to talk to you about something else. I need your advice.”
“Fine baby doll, what is it?” I could tell she wasn’t pleased with my evasiveness, but I had little choice.
“You know how I used to tease you about the séances you used to perform?” I paused, “well I think my new place is haunted. How do I get rid of it?” Despite being worried about her only daughter, I could just see the hint of a smile crossing my mom’s lips. Me asking her about her practices. Her dream come true.
“A ghost, hmm?” Sure enough, I could hear the smile in her voice. “Well baby, if it’s buggin’ you, it’s probably got somethin’ to say.”
“It just wants to chat? It doesn’t seem that way to me.” Chatting generally doesn’t include drowning the living.
“Have you actually tried to listen? I’m alive and you certainly seemed to have plenty of trouble listening to me growing up. I doubt spirits of the deceased have it any easier with you.”
“Momma! I’m being serious.”
“I’m sorry baby,” My mother’s tone returned to a stern one. “I’m serious, though. Try to talk to it. If you don’t get enough from that, then reach out to someone that can. I know you think all this stuff is a bunch of hooey, but someone more open to that kind of thing may be able to help you.”
“Thanks, Mom. I better get going now.” I could feel a few tears pooling in the corners of my eyes but refused to let them escape. “I love you.”
“I love you too, baby doll. Please call me again soon.”
“You’ve seemed off since we left the farmers’ market.” Aggie stated. Her eyes glanced over at me for a moment as she drove us back toward Midtown. “What’s on your mind, and don’t tell me nothing. I’m not an idiot.”
“I was thinking about Brody.” I answered her, watching for a reaction. She only nodded thoughtfully as she kept her eyes ahead.
“My uncle told me you were asking about him the other day.”
“You’re uncle?” I spun around as much as one could with a seatbelt on.
“Aye! Can ye nae tell, lass? Angus is ma’ uncle!” The ease with which Aggie slipped into a full-tilt Scottish accent was unsettling.
“Don’t do that! You sound just like him.” I stared at her in utter amazement.
“You should see the look on Nolan’s face when I call him a sissy Irish boy in that accent.” She beamed with a devilish laugh. I smiled, remembering the playful banter between the old man and Nolan.
“Why does he always call him that?” I wondered aloud, an amused grin playing over my own lips.
“Aside from puking up haggis when he was five, you mean?” Aggie snorted. “He may have gotten beat up by a scrawny little Scottish girl in the schoolyard one afternoon.”
“Wait...you beat up Nolan?”
“Yep,” Aggie boasted. “He called me a stinkin’ ginger, so I gave him a black eye.”
“Aggie!” I giggled at the thought of a little Aggie giving Nolan a beating in front of his classmates.
“What? We’ve been friends ever since.” She let both of our laughter die down before continuing, “getting back to what’s been bugging you. Why is Brody on your mind?”
“Well, your uncle told me about Claire’s murd
er, that Brody killed himself after everyone thought he had done it...but I was wondering, how did he kill himself?”
I could see the usually cheerful glow in Aggie’s eyes fade with my question. I felt terrible bringing it up, but I needed to know. Aggie remained silent for a couple of minutes, keeping her eyes straight ahead. Her forehead wrinkled for a moment as she contemplated her answer to me.
“He overdosed on Heroin,” Aggie swallowed hard, “he injected it into his arm, then sat himself in his bathtub and –”
“And he drowned.” It felt like a rock plummeted into the pit of my stomach as the words left my mouth in a half whisper.
“Yes. He drowned in his bathtub.” Aggie nodded, a sad glint in her eyes.
“Did you ever –” I started, but looked down at my hands as my mouth went dry and I found it hard to form words. How could I ask her something like this? Wasn’t it bad enough bringing this up?
“Finish your question, Harley.” Aggie’s tone was sincere, as if she had a sense of what I might ask.
“Did you ever suspect it wasn’t a suicide?” I fought off the hint of dizziness as I replayed the horrific scene from last night, the feeling of helplessness as I struggled to breathe. Was that what happened to him? Was that what Brody’s ghost had to say to me? Aggie’s lips pinched together in a small pout and her green eyes stared off at the road.
“It never made sense to me. Brody would have never committed suicide. As hurt as he was, he would have never killed himself over what happened. As far as the drugs, the worst that boy ever did was smoke a few joints with me and Nolan when we were teenagers.”
“Don’t ask me how I know, but I have a strong feeling that he was murdered.” I told her. Aggie took a quick glance in the rear view then made a sudden shift onto the shoulder of the road and pulled the car in park before turning to me, her eyes intense as they stared into mine.
“Harley, I don’t know who else you may be talking to, but it would be in your best interest not be saying things like that.” I wanted to feel threatened by her words, but they came off as more of a warning than anything else.
“But if he was killed wouldn’t you want to know why? Wouldn’t you want the person responsible put away?”
“Harley, now you stop and you listen to me!” She undid her seatbelt and twisted to face me, “finding out the truth will not bring Brody back. The only thing it will do is stir up a wasp nest that neither myself, my uncle, or Nolan want to deal with ever again.” Her hand gripped my shoulder as she spoke.
“I- I’m sorry, Aggie. I didn’t mean to...”
“It’s fine. I just think you need to leave this one alone...and if something is happening in that apartment, you need to move out.”
I nodded, looking out the window once more as she pulled back onto the road and Midtown came into view. I wanted to do as she said. I wanted to leave it alone. But all I could think about were those green eyes with tiny flecks of gold and brown as they stared at me from the mirror – and the blurry figure that had held me under water. There was no longer any question to what he was trying to tell me. Brody had been murdered and he needed someone to know who killed him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Alannah
After Aggie and I arrived back at Finley’s I quickly said goodbye before leaving with Remy. Nolan didn’t seem too thrilled about my leaving and demanded I take his number in case something else happened.
“I’ll be fine, Nolan.” I told him as I zipped up my jacket and slipped Remy inside.
“Harley, ya keep saying that…”
“If it makes you feel any better, I won’t be taking baths any time soon. Only showers from now on.” I said with mock seriousness. His frown only deepened as his eyes bore into me.
“And if ya have a seizure during a shower?” Nolan raised an unamused eyebrow.
“Then I suppose I'll end up with another concussion,” I shrugged, feeling exasperated. I knew he was concerned, but I didn't feel right staying here again. I needed to do what my mother had said. I needed to find out what Brody was trying to say. Maybe he just wanted his murderer brought to justice and then he would leave me alone.
“You should just stay here another night,” his tone was pleading, “or with Aggie if you’d feel more comfortable there.” Nolan’s bright eyes reminded me of deep freshwater pools as they pulled at mine.
“I can’t, Nolan. I have something to take care of. I’ll see you tomorrow for work, okay?” I hated that look in his eyes. It made me feel terrible, like I'd just kicked a puppy or something. I could imagine him using it to get his way in the past, whether it was an extra cookie from his mother or trying to steal a kiss from an unsuspecting girl. Realizing his attempts to stop me were futile, he finally moved out of my way after handing me a slip of paper with his phone number scribbled neatly on it.
It was late afternoon when I exited Finley’s, cradling a purring Remy in my jacket as I eyed the various storefronts and businesses with interest. I wasn’t even sure exactly what I was looking for. After talking to my mom, I didn’t know if any stores like the metaphysical shops she frequented even existed in Midtown. Look around the head shops, Harley. Remy purred and nuzzled against my tummy, keeping me nice and warm as a gust of wind whipped around me. After wandering around a bit, I had remembered where I saw a head shop, and right next to it was a store named “Morrigan’s Realm” with a painting of a black cauldron on the window.
The knowledge my mom had given me on paganism, which I had assumed was useless, was actually coming in handy. Who would have thought that? As I pulled open the heavy wooden door to the shop, I was greeted with the familiar scents of incense like Dragon’s blood, Nag Champa, and Opium that tickled my nostrils. Remy stirred slightly at the new smells, but I could tell he was asleep now. I could just see my mother feeling right at home here. To the right side of the store a small staircase led up to a door with charms hanging from the doorknob. My mom had similar ones hanging on our front door for protection. The rest of the store was filled with the usual pagan staples such as candles, gems, books, and jewelry. I would have to come back and get my mom something from here another day.
“Well hello.” A woman’s voice caught my attention from the back of the store.
“Hello,” I turned around as a fair-skinned woman with loose strawberry blonde ringlets that fell well past her shoulders, walked toward me. “Is this your store?”
“Why yes, it is, my child.” Her smile formed lines in her delicate skin as she watched me with lively gray eyes. “My aren’t you an exotic beauty? Look at that gorgeous raven hair and those stunning blue eyes.”
My mother was French and my father was Brazilian. While it gave me a nice year-round bronzed complexion, normally I cringed at the term “exotic” in reference to my mixed background. From her though, I didn’t mind. She let out a soft laugh as one of her hands gently patted my cheek and a warm, comforting feeling melted over me at her touch. She had a familiarity to her that I found soothing. Perhaps it was because speaking with my mother left me feeling homesick and everything in here reminded me of her, but I could sense this woman was someone I could trust.
“Thank you, miss . . . um?”
“Alannah. My name is Alannah, darling.” She winked at me.
“Then thank you, Alannah. I’m Harley.” Her grin was infectious, and I found myself beaming back at her.
“Harley, eh? I bet you’re a feisty one, aren’t you? Got to be, with a name like that.” She laughed. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.” She took my hand in hers, giving it a friendly squeeze before her cheerful expression faded. The smiling gray eyes turned dark as she studied me, her forehead wrinkling in deep thought.
“Harley, there’s someone here with you.” She spoke a minute later. Out of instinct I swiveled my head around, but found nobody around us. “There’s a man with you. I’ve seen him around before, but it’s been several years now.” Alannah’s gaze was fixated on something unseen near the front of the store.
/> “Brody?” At the name, a look of recognition flitted across her eyes. She nodded, sending an involuntary shiver through me as her eyes returned to mine.
“Yes, he's been trying to tell you something,” her lips pursed and a pained expression brought out the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes.
“He was murdered, wasn’t he?” My voice was frantic with excitement. Had I actually found someone that could help me?
“Yes, dear, he was.” Her voice was hesitant as her hand still held mine.
“Well, then who did it? He can tell you can’t he? Ask him who!”
All I wanted was to get this over with. If she could communicate with him then maybe this whole ordeal would be over by night’s end. She only frowned at me, squeezing her eyes shut as if there was a harsh light in the room.
“Alannah?” Her hands squeezed mine tighter before her eyes finally opened.
“If only it were that easy, darling.” She shook her head, the troubled expression still deep within her gray eyes. “He isn’t very strong right now. He can only show me images. Some spirits are stronger than others and sometimes they grow stronger when they are near certain places, people, or objects.”
“Like his old apartment. He broke all my mirrors.”
“Mmm. He was trying to get your attention. You don’t look like you really believe all this.” Alannah’s smile returned for a brief second. “He needs you to believe it though.”
“Well, I believe it now. He nearly drowned me last night!”
Alannah only shook her head.
“No, Harley. He was showing you his death.” She said, finally unclasping her hands from mine. “Some spirits use their own memories to reach out. You’ve been having nightmares that aren’t yours, haven’t you?” My breath caught in my throat at her words. The image of Claire’s frozen corpse made my stomach churn. “Mmm, I thought so.”
“Why doesn’t he just show me who killed him then?” I didn’t mean to raise my voice at Alannah, but I couldn’t for the life of me understand why Brody didn’t just show me an image of the killer if he couldn’t come out and say it.
