Natural Reaction - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 6)

by Terri Reid

  Bradley nodded. “Yeah, of course, that makes sense,” he said, wondering what kind of horrors Bernie had encountered to make him so cautious.

  “It ain’t always bad stuff,” he reassured Bradley. “It’s just, you know, little stuff, like the skull rolling down next to the feet. Stuff like that freaks people out.”

  Bradley cleared his throat, picturing a grinning skull lodged between a corpse’s feet. “Yeah, I could see how that might upset someone.”

  Bernie stopped walking and looked intently at Bradley. “You want to be here or do you want to wait a ways back?” he asked. “Ain’t no shame in waiting. This ain’t the job; this here’s your wife.”

  Shaking his head, Bradley stepped forward. “No, I have to be here.”

  “Yeah, I get that,” Bernie said.

  The other men from the group had attached thick metal cable to the outside of the concrete burial vault and quickly climbed out of the grave. The back hoe was facing the opposite direction, where a small crane was attached. The operator lowered a thick hook and the men guided it to where the cables joined above the vault. Once it was secure, the men signaled the operator and the top of the vault was raised from the earth and slowly lowered onto the ground near the grave.

  Bradley peered down into the grave and saw the oak coffin lying inside the remainder of the vault. This is where she’s been laying for eight long years, he thought and his stomach twisted.

  A strong arm clamped around his shoulders and he looked over to see Sean standing next to him. “You know better than I do that this is just a resting place for bones,” Sean whispered. “Jeannine was never in here, just her shell. Her spirit was always free.”

  Bradley took a deep shuddering breath; he hadn’t realized there were tears on his face. “I know,” he said, “But thanks for reminding me.”

  Bradley stepped out of the way as the men attached cables to the outside of the casket and lifted it out of the earth. Bradley, Sean, Bernie and several others moved forward and took hold of the casket. The cables were released and the men reverently carried the casket to the back of a waiting hearse. In a matter of minutes, Bradley was following it back to the coroner’s office.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “So you actually spoke with him?” Rosie asked Mary and Ian, her tea cup nervously clattering against the saucer.

  “Yes, we did,” Mary said. “And he seemed like a very nice man.”

  “Did he know why he’s still there?” she asked.

  “We really didn’t have enough time to get into details,” Ian confided. “We’re hoping to find a way to get back into the school.”

  Rosie bent over, placed her cup on the coffee table. “And this time it must be honestly,” she said. “I couldn’t face disappointing Bradley again.”

  Mary smiled. “Well, of course we need to do it honestly. So, who do we know that can let us in?”

  Suddenly Rosie sat up and smiled widely. “Why, of course, how silly of me.”

  “How silly of you what?” Ian asked.

  “Why I went to school with the superintendent of schools,” she said. “Wally Gormley. But he likes to be called Walter now.”

  “And how would you go about having Walter get us a key to the school?” Ian asked.

  Rosie thought for a moment. “I could tell him you were a professor from a University in Scotland,” she announced with delight.

  “Aye, I can see how he might be believing that,” Ian said with a smirk. “And what would I want to be doing tooling around the high school at night.”

  She thought for another moment. “You’re sensitive to light, so you need to do your work at night, when no one is there?”

  He shook his head. “I sound like a Scottish vampire, I don’t think he’d let me wander the halls with that kind of a reason.”

  “Well, vampires are all the rage these days,” Rosie replied.

  “But not something the superintendent would sanction in the high school,” Mary added. “What other reason would someone want to study a building when no one is occupying it?”

  “Why don’t I tell him that you’re researching radon gas exposure,” she said slowly. “And you can’t get correct readings when the students are walking around and the doors are opening and closing.”

  “That’s a good idea, Rosie,” Mary said.

  “It is?” Rosie asked.

  “It is?” Ian asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Mary replied with a smile. “We’re considered a Zone One for radon, which means we have the highest potential for it. A study like that would make sense.”

  “Well, Rosie, apparently that was brilliant,” Ian said, lifting his cup of tea up to toast her. “Would you like me to go with you when you meet with him? I could say a couple of things in Scottish.”

  Rosie considered Ian’s words for a moment. “No, no, I think I should go and meet with Wally all by myself at first. We used to be an item and I don’t know how he’ll react if he were to see me with such a young and handsome fellow.”

  “Ach, but you’re a flatterer, you are.”

  She stood up and smiled at Ian. “You start researching radon, just in case he wants to talk to you about the study,” she said. “We have to be believable.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Ian said.

  Rosie slipped her coat on and walked over to Mary and gave her a hug. “Now, you just leave it to me,” she said. “I’ll handle this perfectly.”

  “Thank you, Rosie,” she said. “And, just to be on the safe side, don’t bring my name up. I seem to be getting a bit of a reputation in town. It might be better if people aren’t reminded that I can see ghosts.”

  “Of course, that makes perfect sense,” she said. “Besides, it will never come up. All we want to do is talk about radon.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Rosie was standing in front of the superintendent’s assistant’s desk. A trim woman with dark hair pulled back in an efficient bun, she wore a slim navy blue skirt, white blouse and sensible shoes.

  “Hello, I’d like to see Wally, I mean Walter Gormley, please,” Rosie said to the woman with a friendly smile.

  “Do you have an appointment?” the woman asked coldly.

  Rosie shook her head. “Oh, no, this is a spur of the moment visit,” she said. “We’re old friends.”

  “The superintendent rarely has time for visits from old friends,” the assistant said. “He has a very busy schedule.”

  Rosie smiled at the woman and said, “Why don’t you ask him and let him make the decision. My name is Rosie Meriwether.”

  The woman sniffed loudly, and then disappeared into the room behind her desk. After a moment the door was opened. “Let her in, let her in,” Wally insisted, as he moved his rather large girth around his desk and greeted Rosie.

  “Rosie Meriwether it seems like forever,” he said, clasping her delicate hands in his flaccid damp one.

  Rosie smiled while cringing inwardly. “Wally, I mean Walter, it’s wonderful to see you too,” she echoed. “It’s just been too long. And look, you haven’t changed at all.”

  Walter beamed at her through myopically thick glasses. “Why thank you, dear, and may I say the same about you.”

  She tittered over the compliment and he smiled with delight.

  “Well, come in and have a seat in my office,” he invited, “And tell me what it is I can do for you.”

  He leaned a little closer. “I am a man with a great deal of influence now.”

  Rosie smiled at him. “Oh, Walter, you were always a man with influence in my book.”

  He led her to a chair and then squeezed back behind his desk and sank down. Rolling his chair forward to the desk, he placed his sagging elbows on it and templed his fingers. “Your wish, dear, is my command.”

  She leaned slightly forward in her chair, her proper form presenting perfect posture and lady-like demeanor. “I have a friend, actually the son of a friend, who is a college professor from Scotland, University of Edinburgh,” she began.


  “Good school, fine school,” he harrumphed.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes, it is,” she agreed. “He is in the States studying, er, radon gas. Yes, that’s right. Radon gas in public schools.”

  “Oh, is that a concern?”

  Rosie nodded. “Oh, yes, Stephenson County is Level One is radon probability,” she said. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

  “Well, yes, of course I did,” Walter said, his cascading chins wobbling in agreement. “Go on, please.”

  “Well, he would like to study one of our schools,” she said. “Which is very exciting, don’t you think; having one of our schools studied in a national, er, study?”

  “Yes, I think that could be beneficial.”

  “Especially for grant money,” Rosie added.

  One eyebrow soared into his forehead. “Grant money?”

  “Oh, yes,” she said eagerly, and then she stopped and bit her lower lip. “I mean, that’s a possibility, wouldn’t you think?”

  “Yes. Yes, that could be good for us.”

  “So, he would like to study the high school, at night, and would need access to go inside, at night, and, er, study it,” she concluded with a smile.

  “But, the high school has already been studied for radon,” Walter said, cocking his head slightly so he resembled a hairless grizzly bear. “Didn’t he know that?”

  “Oh, dear,” Rosie said nervously. “This isn’t working the way I thought it would.”

  Walter moved his hands so they clasped the front of his desk and leaned forward. “I remember that you used to be rather good at telling tales, Rosie,” he said, his jowls flattening angrily. “Are you lying to me?”

  Rosie thought quickly, there had to be a way to fix this situation.

  “Yes, I am lying to you,” she said. “He’s not studying radon, he’s studying ghosts.”

  Walter pushed his hands against the desk and his chair rolled backward into the bookcase. “Ghosts?” he said. “What the hell are you talking about, Rosie?”

  She paused for a moment, she wasn’t supposed to tell about Mary, but she couldn’t remember if she could tell about Ian. Perhaps she should only tell a little about Ian.

  “Do you have the Internet?” she asked.

  Walter nodded.

  “Google the name Professor Ian MacDougal,” she requested, “Edinburgh University.”

  He typed into the search engine and waited for a moment.

  “Studies in Parapsychology?” he read. “What kind of bunk is that?”

  “Oh, no, he’s quite renowned,” she explained, “Which is why I called him here. I only wanted the best for Coach Thorne.”

  Walter’s eyes widened. “Coach Thorne?” he gasped. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Rosie moved her chair up next to the front of the desk and leaned forward. She placed her hand on Walter’s arm and met his eyes. “Walter, I need to tell you something. Something I’ve kept a secret for most of my life. Walter, I see dead people.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Bradley was grateful to the men who helped him carry Jeannine’s casket from the hearse to the lab at the coroner’s office. They did their job with reverence and respect, speaking in low voices and treating the casket with care. When they finally placed it on the low platform, they turned and shook Bradley’s hand, offering him their condolences.

  Sean waited until they left and put his hand on Bradley’s shoulder. “You ready?”

  Bradley nodded.

  Sean and Bernie stepped forward, each holding a medium sized Allen wrench-like key. They walked to either side of the casket, inserted the keys and turned them, unlocking the lid. Bradley heard the thump signaling the lid’s release and took a deep breath.

  Bernie moved back. “You can open it,” he said. “We can give you a minute.”

  Bradley took a few steps forward and ran his hand along the smooth finish of the porcelain white casket. He slipped his fingers around a bronzed handle on the top and on the bottom of the casket and deliberately pushed up. A wave of putrid air washed over him and he gagged.

  “Sorry, forgot to tell you,” Bernie said. “That first whiff can be powerful.”

  Bradley pushed past the smell and leaned over the casket. It was hard to believe the collection of whitened bones lying on a cushion of stained white was actually Jeannine. He shook his head. It was like staring down at something from a museum, not his wife.

  He studied her, from the top of her skull across the remnants of the clothing she’d been buried in to the tiny bones scattered around the slippers at the base of the casket. Then he noticed her hand. It lay on top of her ribcage, as if her hands had been folded over her chest in repose. And on the third bone of her left hand, a golden ring still sparkled.

  He reached out and placed his hand over hers.

  “I found your body, Jeannine,” he whispered. “You’re not lost anymore.”

  The intercom crackled behind him. “Bernie, there’s a Mr. and Mrs. Whitley here to see you.”

  Bradley turned. “Jeannine’s parents,” he explained.

  Bernie walked over to the desk and pressed the black button on the intercom. “Yeah, Suzie, go ahead and send them down. I’ll meet them at the door.”

  He looked at Bradley. “So, is it your wife?”

  “Yeah, she’s still got her wedding ring on.”

  “Okay, I can let her folks see her,” he said. “But I then I need some time to compare dental records and see if I can get anything on toxicology.”

  “But she’s been dead eight years,” Sean said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Bernie countered. “But we want to put this jerk away for a long time, right? And if some of her hair still carries traces of the stuff he was giving her, we have more evidence against him.”

  “Hair, huh?” Sean asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a long shot, considering how old the samples are,” he said with a shrug. “But, hell, I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  “I appreciate it, Bernie,” Bradley said.

  “Hey, if it was someone from my family, you’d do the same.”

  Bradley met his eyes. “Yes, I would,” he said. “But I pray it never is.”

  A soft knock on the office door halted their conversation.

  “Let me talk to them first,” Bernie said, turning and walking over to the door.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Whitley, I’m Bernie Wojchichowski, Cook County Coroner,” he said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you,” Joyce said, her voice trembling. “Have you found her?”

  Bernie nodded. “Yes, we were able to exhume her body this morning,” he said. “But before you go over and look at her, I just want to talk to you for a few minutes. Is that okay with you?”

  They nodded and Bernie led them into the room. Bradley came forward and hugged them both. Joyce clasped his hand tightly and kept hold of it while Bernie led them across the room to his desk. Joyce froze for a moment when she saw the casket lying on the raised platform. Bill put his arm around her shoulders and guided her forward, although her gaze never left the casket.

  “Is that...?” she stammered, tears filling her eyes.

  Bradley nodded. “Yes, that’s Jeannine.”

  He and Bill helped her into a chair and sat on either side of her, offering her comfort. She released Bradley’s hand and searched in her purse for a handkerchief, blotting the moisture from her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said. “Please continue with your talk.”

  Bernie sat on the edge of the desk in front of them. “Are you religious people?” Bernie asked.

  They both nodded at him and he smiled. “Good, because that always makes this conversation easier.”

  He reached back and opened one of the drawers, pulled out a white cotton glove and put it on his hand. “Okay, so this is not a conversation that has been sanctioned by the City of Chicago or Cook County,” he said. “This is a conversation between people, religious people, about death and stuff you learn when you�
�re a coroner. Understand?”

  Once again, they nodded.

  Bernie raised his gloved hand and wiggled his fingers. “What you see here is a glove moving, right?” he looked at Bradley.

  “Right,” Bradley said.

  “Wrong,” Bernie replied. “What you got here is my hand moving, but it’s covered by a glove, so you think it’s the glove moving.”

  He pulled the glove off his hand and threw it up in the air. The glove dropped down onto the top of the desk. “Without my hand, the glove looks like it did before, but there ain’t no movement, there ain’t no life and there ain’t no Wojchichowski charm attached to it. It’s just a shell.”

  He stood up and walked over to the casket. “What we got in here is a glove,” he said. “It’s a glove that’s been buried in the ground for eight years, so Mother Nature took her toll. But, you gotta remember that what you are going to see, ain’t your daughter. She’s left that glove eight years ago.”

  “And what you need to remember is she’s still alive, but she’s in another place,” he said, “A better place. And I personally think she probably looks like when her glove was fresh and new, nothing like what you’re going to see in that casket. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  Joyce nodded and placed her hand on top of her husband’s hand. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”

  They stood and made their way to the casket, Bill’s arm around Joyce’s waist. They stopped together, leaned forward and looked at the remains. Joyce gasped, turned her head into her husband’s shoulder and wept. He held her tightly, his eyes still on the skeleton before them.

  “You’re right,” he said to Bernie. “Our daughter is already home with her Father. Thank you for reminding us.”

  “Bill, can I...?” Bradley paused, unsure of what to do.

  “I think Joyce and I need some time together to let this all sink in,” he said. “Thank you for finding her, Bradley. We’ll see you on Saturday.”

  He turned slowly and guided his wife out of the room.

  Chapter Twenty-five