Seances Are for Suckers

by Tamara Berry

  Nicholas nods. “He might not have been able to scare Fern off with pigeons and stairs, but that message had the power to spook her. It was a game we used to play, a blood pact we made. If one of us found the tunnel and didn’t tell the others, that was the price we’d pay. Well, it did spook her. I don’t know how much attention you were paying during the séance, but that rhyme caused a much bigger reaction than Walter Powell’s name. That was a risky move, Eleanor.”

  I swivel my head to stare up at him. “You think she would have killed me?”

  “Yes,” he says, his mouth grim as he looks off in the distance. I’m not sure what he’s seeing, but I imagine it’s the ghosts of their childhood selves. “It was all she could do. She was backed into a corner. I backed her into a corner.”

  I don’t ask him to clarify, aware that the full story is coming. For the first time, I’m not sure I’m comfortable with my role as confessor. My job is done; there’s no need for him to tell me more.

  Unless he wants to. Unless he genuinely cares what I think.

  “Once Fern recruited Thomas’s help in moving those bodies, it was all over for her. She’ll do anything for money—I knew that. I know that.” He sighs and runs a hand along the back of his neck. “She only signed the castle over to Rachel because I made her. I knew she’d sell it otherwise, passing it off to the highest bidder as soon as my mother dies. Mother knew it, too. That’s why she agreed to give it over—to Rachel in deed and me in trust.”

  I nod, easily able to swallow the tale thus far. Vivian wouldn’t care about any of it so long as she’s allowed to remain comfortable.

  “In exchange for keeping the estate in the family, I promised to pay for everything. Fern’s lifestyle, the castle’s upkeep, Rachel’s education insofar as she’d allow it. But she wanted more. She always wanted more.”

  I’m hit with a pang of understanding—and of heartrending pain. Placing my hand on his forearm, I ask, “So, when you said you liked Cal for this, you meant Cal and Fern, didn’t you? You thought she was trying to find a way to get the estate back.”

  His expression turns bleak. “I didn’t want it to be her. She’s my sister, Eleanor.”

  I choke back a sob. I don’t know for sure what Nicholas is feeling right now—losing his trust in a childhood friend and his sister in one fell swoop—but I do know that nothing in this world or the next can replace the bond that exists between siblings.

  I tuck my hand in his and give it a squeeze, content to leave things there. He seems content, too, his grip strong and unrelenting as we continue our walk in companionable silence. We don’t stop until we reach the outer edges of the village, where the tea shop sits in picturesque welcome. Mrs. Brennigan is waiting out behind the garbage bins, looking furtive as she clutches a parcel in her hands.

  With an apologetic wince, I extract my hand from Nicholas’s. “You’ll have to stay here,” I say. As much as he could use the entertainment value of watching me convince a lonely, middle-aged woman that burning her husband’s hair and dancing naked under the moonlight will restore their marriage to its pre-child passions, I’m not that cruel.

  “You go do what you do best, Eleanor. Help that woman, make her believe in the impossible. Don’t worry. I’ll wait for you.”

  There’s something in his voice, heavy and warm like honey. I glance up, unsure what I’ll find there—if that mocking smile will be back—but I only see a tender softening of his eyes. My breath catches as he lifts my hand to his lips and presses a kiss on the palm. I understand, without quite knowing how, that we’re not talking about murder and ghosts anymore. We’re talking about something else entirely.

  “I’ll wait as long as you need.”

  Epilogue

  “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.” I stand over Winnie’s grave, the newly turned earth filling the air with its loamy scent, and try to think of all the other platitudes I’ve heard—and uttered—in my lifetime. “To everything there is a season. Death is but the next great adventure. Um, rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub?”

  Liam sighs and crouches, setting a bundle of flowers next to the headstone. They look unnaturally bright and cheerful next to that cold slab of stone, but he insisted on bringing them.

  “Are you saying your good-byes or inviting her to dinner?” he asks, a slight tinge of exasperation in his voice.

  “Both,” I reply, unwilling to let that exasperation get to me. “Besides, a prayer’s a prayer. I don’t think what you say matters nearly as much as the sentiment.”

  “Oh? Are you the expert now?”

  “I’ve always been the expert, Liam. You just refused to acknowledge it.” I offer a serene smile from across the grave. “She’s okay, you know. She’s happy.”

  His glance is sharp. “How do you know? Did she say—?”

  I shake my head, wishing I could give him more. I’ve been home for several weeks now, ever since Nicholas flew me back on his private jet, but nothing I say or do seems to reach her. Ever since I stepped foot off Thomas’s boat, she’s been inaccessible.

  Gone.

  Which is fine, really. It seems I was right when I said Winnie was there to help me solve the murder and nothing more. I don’t know how or why it happened, or why Castle Hartford was a conduit for our communication, but I don’t mind. I don’t need to know. Some things in this world aren’t meant to be explained away by science or reason.

  I guess that means I believe in the miraculous again. Or maybe it means I never really stopped in the first place.

  “Then how can you be so sure she’s happy?” Liam demands.

  I don’t have an answer for him—and for the first time in my life, I don’t pretend otherwise. I don’t know anything more about the afterworld than he does. All I have to go on is faith.

  “I like it here, don’t you?” I ask instead. It’s a strange thing, visiting the grave of a loved one who’s been gone—really gone—as long as Winnie has, but I find I don’t mind it as much as I thought I would. I’ve been around so many dead people lately—new ones and old ones, strangers and people I know—that being here with her is almost commonplace. Just another day with the Wilde sisters. “It’s so green and peaceful. It reminds me of Sussex.”

  Liam mutters something about needing a strong drink, but I just breathe deep and take in the ambience. To be honest, it’s not all that different from those times I stopped by Happy Acres. I might not be able to physically reach out and touch Winnie anymore, but that physical connection was never really what those visits were about, anyway.

  “Are you coming with me?” Liam asks. He places a hand on her headstone before quickly lifting it away. “Or did you want to stick around a little longer?”

  “I’m going to stay and chat for a while,” I say. “But you should go. You’ve been through enough lately.”

  He doesn’t argue. He has been through enough, the poor guy. With one sister dying on him and the other plunging into murderous international ghost hunts, he’s had more than enough to worry him.

  I wait only until he lifts a hand in farewell before settling myself cross-legged on the ground, my back pressed against the cold, damp headstone. And then I do what I’ve always done best—I talk to my sister.

  “I chatted on the phone with the Hartfords for a bit this morning,” I tell her. “You’d be so proud of how far Rachel’s come in just a few short weeks. Weirdly enough, she’s starting to really bond with Cal. He felt bad, just leaving the family in the lurch after everything that happened, so he flew in some five-star chef to cook all the meals and shows every sign of staying until they’re all back on their feet again. Vivian is livid.”

  A gentle breeze whispers through the cemetery, lifting leaves and twirling them around me in a show of color and light. Now that Liam is gone, I don’t see anyone else around, but I don’t mind. It’s nice to be alone for a change.

  “And Nicholas promised to look after Beast, too, so that’s good. I wanted to bring her home with me, but Liam’s allergic an
d I doubt she’d take kindly to living in the back of my hearse. I miss her, though. In fact, I might go back to England for a visit soon. A long one—maybe even permanently. You don’t mind if I leave the States, do you?”

  If Winnie has any opinion on my plans, she doesn’t share them.

  “Nicholas needs me,” I explain. “It’s my spiritual guidance and comfort—at least, that’s what Annis thinks. She says I have a restful, healing way about me. How ridiculous is that? I didn’t have the heart to tell her that I’m worse than an escaped prisoner on the run. You know the only reason I’ve ever stayed in one place is because I had you to anchor me.”

  Good thing you still have me, then.

  I sit upright, the headstone leaving a cold impression on my back that extends all over my body. Nothing about the cemetery has changed, but the air feels suddenly freezing.

  I suspect that I’m overwrought, that the emotions of letting go are taking over and transforming me into a neurotic, blubbering mess, but that voice sounds again, so loud and clear this time it’s almost as though Winnie is talking directly to me.

  Silly Ellie, she says, and I could swear her laughter shakes the ground. I’m not going anywhere. You didn’t think it was going to be that easy to get rid of me, did you?

  Stay tuned for more adventures with

  Ellie Wilde

  Coming soon from

  Tamara Berry

  and

  Kensington Books