“Owen? You know about this?” Todd’s voice goes up an octave or two.
Owen’s face glows red and his aura retracts. “It’s just a story. I heard something about a threesome.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Todd asks. His pale face is blotchy and he’s tapping his fingers on the table.
Owen shrugs. “It’s just an old rumor. I didn’t even remember it.”
“It was a love triangle,” I say. “The man’s name was Argus Pudge. Have you heard of him or anyone named Pudge?” Owen shakes his head and looks uncomfortable. The other two confirm they haven’t heard the name before.
“I have a meeting with someone this afternoon who might be able to fill in the details so I can figure out who I’m dealing with. For now, please don’t refer to the spirit as Charlie. I’m sure you wouldn’t like being called by another name, and we don’t want to make things any more unpleasant.”
“Is that why he killed Morgan?” Zeda chokes on her words.
I tell her I think they’re blaming him for something he didn’t do. Zeda and Todd voice their disagreement. Argus is as guilty in death as he was in life, so I tell them about my experience on the ladder yesterday. “Keep an open mind. Argus wasn’t perfect, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
Todd’s not ready to forget and forgive. “Well, the spiders aren’t biting their own heads off and it’s disgusting and weird.”
Zeda agrees wholeheartedly.
I cringe and take a deep breath. The emotions in the room are already charged and the place is about to get electrifying if I don’t calm things down. “I sense Argus is either trying to communicate, or he’s replaying his own fate. Extreme violence and trauma can stick tight to a place long after the event is over.”
“What happened exactly?” Todd asks. Zeda’s got the ends of her sweater sleeves balled in her fist and ready to cover her eyes.
“Edith, Argus Pudge’s wife, apparently found out he was meeting someone in the barn. She followed him here and shot him. Then she chopped off his head.”
Zeda winces, jumps out of her chair, and backs up against the wall. “He’s headless?” She’s looking around for, I assume, the head.
“Not in spirit. In spirit, he’s perfect. In death, not so perfect,” I say.
Todd isn’t convinced. Zeda’s in the corner hugging herself. Owen’s hanging his head, playing with donut sprinkles on the table.
“Listen, Argus Pudge was just a man. Imperfect, foolish, and in love with another. He made some bad choices like we all do. His mistake in coming here one night to meet another cost him his life. Now he’s trapped here by the trauma he experienced. Perhaps repeating the decapitation in the only way he can.”
“A love story. How sad. Maybe he’s looking for his head.” Zeda’s almost in tears again and still looking around. “So you think Morgan slipped and fell down the ladder like you did?”
“I think it’s likely. Let the police finish their investigation. For now, give Argus a break and let me help him crossover. He’s been here longer than anyone deserves. I don’t feel anything malicious here… except where the spiders are concerned. Just don’t have ill will in your own minds. Negative thoughts create negative feelings and negative results. None of which will do anything to help release Argus’ spirit.”
I tell them about the girl who supposedly ran away after Argus was killed then ask about the field where Mojo ran yesterday. According to Todd, it goes a couple miles north and a few more miles east before it comes to roads in both directions.
I tell them I’ll stop back when we’re done exploring the field. Todd’s got a theory that Mojo picked up Argus’ ghost tracks because at times, it doesn’t seem like he’s in the barn. The others agree. Zeda is sure now that he’s out searching for his beloved. She hopes I can reunite the two.
She hugs me and wishes me good luck. They grab the remaining junk food and head back to their computers with at least Zeda promising to be nicer to their headless ghost. I’m sensing Owen isn’t telling everything he knows about this old tale.
“Okay,” I say to the wolfdog once we’re outside. “This can’t turn into a fourteen mile trek through the wildflowers. We’re working and we have a barber’s appointment this afternoon so take this seriously.”
He barely listens and as soon as I stop with the lecture, he bolts into the tall grass. “We’re working,” I yell. He knows the term well, but I can see he’s enjoying this more than he should.
He runs, comes back, and runs again. Thankfully, he’s running north, the shortest direction to the road, according to Todd. Of course, sixty years ago there probably wasn’t a road there.
I’m trying to quiet my mind and enjoy the warm spring day, but I can’t. Owen’s attitude and his and Todd’s interactions are on my nerves. Now that I’m away from them, they feel more like agendas.
One pretty young woman, three high testosterone young men. One of those men is dead, one seems easily irritated by the other, and one is probably hiding a lot more than I want to find out. It’s no wonder I prefer working with apparitions.
I hope a certain apparition is listening right now. “Argus Pudge,” I whisper. “I’m here to help you crossover.” I start to tell him I’m here to help him join his loved ones on the other side. Seeing as one of those loved ones chopped off his head, I tell him that in spirit, he’s whole and no harm can come to him.
Argus is silent and I’ve fallen behind in keeping up with the wolfdog. When I check my phone, I see that we’ve been walking for nearly forty minutes. I call Mojo back for a drink of water. I don’t see a road yet and looking back in the direction we came, I can’t see the barn. The wolfdog is impatient to get back to tracking a sixty year old scent. It’s almost noon so I tell him twenty more minutes and we have to head back. He takes off and I follow.
When a cool breeze pushes me from behind, I stop and close my eyes. “Come on Argus Pudge, give me a sign. Are you out here looking for your true love or for spiders to bite off their heads?”
Some birds in the field have been protesting our hike since we started. Now they are complaining loudly and fiercely and one dive bombs me. I hurry away. Mojo is nowhere in sight.
I start running to catch up with him. I’m calling as I run and not seeing him anywhere. Then he comes into view, but doesn’t come close. He turns, disappears, and comes back.
When I finally catch up, he’s standing in ghost pose, or so I think. As soon as I get close, I have my doubts about what’s going on. He’s dug a hole, something he never does.
“What’s up with you?” I’m afraid to find out. He’s staring into a hole that’s a few feet deep and not much wider than a foot. Well, at least it isn’t a grave.
I go to stand next to him and look down at what treasure he can’t take his eyes off. It’s nothing but a big rock. “What possessed you to dig up a rock? I told you we’re working. And why are you in ghost pose?” He isn’t talking.
I find a stick and poke the stone. It moves too easily. The wind pushes me forward again. Another poke and the stone rolls over.
Empty eye sockets look up at me. Argus Pudge’s skull has lost part of its jaw, but oddly enough, he still looks happy to see me.
Chapter Sixteen
§
Great, just what I need– a crime scene. Since I never met the man, I’m only assuming the happy face looking up at me once belonged to Argus Pudge. I’ve got less than an hour to get back to the jeep and drive into town for my barber’s appointment, and I don’t want to be late.
“Argus, don’t take offense but I have a prior engagement. I promise to be back with the authorities as soon as I’m done. Come on, let’s go,” I tell Mojo.
He isn’t pleased. It’s not every day that he finds human remains. “Good job,” I tell him. “The man’s waited this long, he can wait a few more hours.”
We race back to the jeep, and I get to the Cut and Shave with five minutes to spare. The building seems meek despite its bold lime
green exterior and oversized barber pole. I walk in and sit down with eyeballs glued to me.
“Help ya?” the man cutting hair says. He and his customer are both smiling wide at me.
I smile back. “If you’re Russ, I’m your two o’clock appointment.” They both laugh.
“That’s me all right, but this is a barber shop. I think you want the beauty shop down the block.”
Russ is a short man with long sideburns and a jolly face. His smile gives me chills, and I wonder if what he knows about Argus is because he’s related to the man.
I tell him I’m in the right place and they both look unsettled. After the customer pays, he gives me the once up, once down, and a wink before walking out the door. Russ motions for me to sit in his chair. He doesn’t look happy anymore.
“I’m here to buy a few minutes of your time,” I say. Then I drop Calvin Harper’s name and his shoulders relax.
He gets two cups of coffee and sits in the chair beside me. I tell him my barn book cover story that even I’m getting tired of hearing.
He looks sad and nods his head. “A barn book? Well, it could be worse. What do you want to know from me?”
“Everything you can tell me about Argus Pudge.”
He cringes then smiles. “Where you from?”
“New Mexico.”
“Reporter?”
Russ’ aura is a nice bright blue. He’s got a comfortable sense of himself that makes me feel like I’ve known him all my life, and that I can trust him with some of my own secrets. I’m ready to drop my cover story anyway.
“No, I’m not a reporter. I think Argus is causing some problems in the barn where he lost his life. I’m here to help the new owners clear things out of the place.”
He shrugs, either not knowing or caring what I mean. Either way, he seems okay with my story. “Are you a distant relative of Mr. Pudge?” It’s that smile that I can’t get out of my head.
“Not even close. You sure you’re not going to write some scandalous tale about the man and our town?”
I promise I’m not and tell him my barn book will likely not get written beyond the first page.
“I’m counting on that. You seem like a decent person. I hope you plan on living up to my opinion of you.” He looks around the shop then steps back in time. “My mother knew the story and she told it to me years ago.”
He pauses and I sense the man is reconsidering passing on Argus’ secrets. “She knew the man?”
He shakes his head. “Knew the girl.”
I feel a chill in the room and look around to see where it came from. “I think Argus is restless,” I say, testing the waters.
Russ laughs. “I’d say the man had reason enough to feel that way.”
A believer? Dare I hope? But I’m still treading lightly. People tend to react badly when I tell them what I do, even those who believe in earthbound spirits. I decide to play the sympathy card instead. “Did you hear about the boy who fell from the barn’s loft last month?”
He wrinkles his brow. “You telling me Argus Pudge caused that boy’s death?”
So much for the sympathy card. “No, I don’t think he did. What I do know though is that he’s scaring three kids who are spending a lot of time in that barn.”
He pulls back and studies me. “Man’s dead and gone.”
“Maybe forgotten, but not gone,” I say. “Trauma has a way of causing that.”
Russ shakes his head and laughs. “Must be looking for his head.” This he thinks is just too funny then he groans, looks away and back at me. “You want to help him find it?”
I try not to cringe and hope my face doesn’t betray me. I don’t think the police would appreciate my opting for a barber appointment over reporting a skull I left in a hole in a field.
Russ pats my hand; apparently, I’ve been silent too long. “You know what? This isn’t really my story to tell. But I like you and I feel bad for those kids, though I wish you would tell them to go work somewhere else. Give me a minute.”
He goes to the back room, and I fear he’s gone to call those unsympathetic police. I need to watch what goes on in my own head. There are more mind readers on this planet than most would expect, and they’re not inclined to wear a sign that identifies them.
Russ comes back with a piece of paper nicely folded and held tightly. He starts to talk then stops and looks me in the eye. “Can’t say I haven’t worried about those kids staying out there. Can’t say I haven’t heard someone’s been noseying around town about the barn.”
He cocks his head and sighs. “What happened so many years ago can’t be remedied or undone. Honor the living as well as the dead.” He’s tapping the note on the arm of the chair between us. “Name’s Grace Parker. She likes to be called Ms. Gracie.” He shakes the paper at me, but still isn’t giving it up.
“Be respectful. She’s seventy three years old and a charming, rare jewel of a woman. She’s agreed to talk to you on my recommendation. That’s not something I gave her without some serious consideration. She lives about ten miles from here. Call and arrange a time to meet with her. Don’t go empty handed. As I recall, she likes pretty gift baskets and scarves.”
He looks at the paper; doubt is clouding his thoughts. He goes to give it to me, jerks it back then smiles and drops it into my hand.
“The woman who got away that night?”
Russ smiles and tells me a haircut is eleven dollars. I hand him a twenty and walk out the door. When I get back to the jeep, I call Grace Parker. She agrees to see me tomorrow afternoon. She sounds… oddly giddy.
I’m thrilled. Grace Parker’s the girl who was way too young to be running off with any man, let alone one nine years her senior who had a wife. A wife who apparently wasn’t meek or squeamish. I just hope Grace still remembers what happened that night and is willing to tell me about it.
I drive back to Hedge Road, pass the cut-off to the barn, and park at the north end of the field. Mojo’s eager to get out and make sure no one has taken off with Argus’ head. It’s still in the hole, still looking happy. I kick the dried dirt around to cover up my having left the crime scene. Then I sit down to see if the man has anything he wants to say.
“Argus Pudge. I’m assuming this is your remains here. I’d appreciate it if you would confirm that and give me a clue as to how I can help you crossover. An old barn is no place to spend eternity, and it’s not nice to scare those kids or decapitate all those spiders. You have my full attention. What can I do to help you?”
Argus is still smiling but he isn’t talking, not even twenty minutes later. I pull out my phone and call the police. My dog dug up what looks to be a skull is all I admit to. Seeing as rumors of me are already flying around town, it’s just a matter of time before the police figure out I’ve got a supernatural connection to the skull.
We go back to the jeep to wait for the police. I place my hand over the paper with Grace’s phone number and close my eyes. A few minutes later, I hear Calvin’s words. “Ran through the field all the way home.”
This direction? With the head? And she stopped to dig a hole for it? What are the odds of that happening? Or maybe Edith ran after her, chasing her with Argus’ bloody head then stopping to bury the evidence. I can almost see that scene playing out. Almost, but I wish I wasn’t.
Chapter Seventeen
§
When a police car arrives with lights flashing, I step out of the jeep and am told by a female officer to keep my hands where she can see them. I guess she missed the training class were they teach that murderers don’t usually call the police to report their deadly deeds.
She approaches cautiously and asks for identification. A full three times she compares my photo to my face. “Here from New Mexico?” she asks.
“That’s right,” I say.
After I explain how I found a skull in the field, she takes a deep breath while adjusting her holster belt. “Okay, lead the way,” she says.
I start walking while thinking I shou
ld have just covered up the hole. An investigation at this point seems a waste of time. My Navajo blood though makes me too mindful of any bones that need a proper burial. While I hope the skull makes it to the hole where the rest of Argus’ bones lie, I know it won’t be enough to give his spirit closure.
“It’s a head,” she says, after looking in the hole.
“I thought so,” I say.
She tells me to go back to my vehicle and wait, then she warns me not to take off because she has my license plate number.
I let Mojo out and we go across the road. I’m throwing a stick for him when two police cars arrive followed by an unmarked vehicle. A tall woman in a masculine black suit steps out of the last vehicle and looks around. She talks a minute with the first officer who’s come back from the field. When she spots me, she raises her sunglasses and waves for me to join her.
“You Jack Raven?”
“Yes,” I say.
“This the animal who found the victim?”
I hadn’t quite thought of it that way. I get a queasy feeling they may want to take Mojo in for questioning or at least soil testing. That will not turn out well. Cooperation with strangers is not one of his strengths. I check down the long road to see if an animal control truck is on the way. For now, one isn’t. “Yes, this is Mojo.”
“I’m Detective Blanche Coleman. Stay beside your vehicle. I’ll be back to question you in a few minutes.”
I can hardly wait. I smile and say I’ll be here. Blanche Coleman jets her jaw at me before slipping her sunglasses back on and walking into the field.
Mojo snorts. I know what he means. The woman’s aura is as tight as a girdle, and the shallow brown of doubt follows her like toilet paper on the bottom of her shoe. She’s also got a little bit of magenta around her head– a nonconformist. No doubt that’s causing problems in her profession.
“Was the skull really necessary in getting this job done?” Mojo hangs his head.
Coleman comes back looking satisfied with herself. “It’s a skull,” she says. She leads me to her vehicle and has me get in the back so she can take my statement, but not before checking Mojo’s feet. Oddly, the woman has no fear of the wolfdog. I have to give her credit for that. I also give myself credit for letting him run in the field across the road, where any incriminating evidence of his find remains.
The Eton Bluff Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 4) Page 8
