Treasured Legacies - a Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery

by Terri Reid

  With a quivering lower lip, she finally was able to blurt out, “Three.”

  “Three?” Bradley asked. “Three? Is that right?”

  She nodded, wiping away more tears with the back of her hand and grabbing a paper towel from the counter-top to blow her nose. “Three,” she repeated.

  “Three what, sweetheart?” he asked.

  Her tears started up again. “Three containers,” she sobbed, placing her head against his chest. He could barely hear her muffled, “Three whole containers.”

  “Of what?” he said, trying to be patient.

  She dug her face further into his shoulder in mortification. “Ice cream,” she muttered.

  “What?” he asked, trying to lean in closer.

  “Ice cream,” she murmured again.

  “What?”

  She looked up at him. “Ice cream!” she shouted. “I ate three whole containers of ice cream today in my office.”

  “Three whole quarts?” he gasped.

  She smacked his arm. “No, of course not,” she said, offended. “I’m not a glutton. Three six-ounce containers.”

  “So, you’re telling me that basically you ate three scoops of ice cream today and you’re upset about it?” he asked.

  She paused for a moment. “It seemed like more when they were in their own containers, she said slowly, feeling more than a little ridiculous.

  He pulled her back into his arms and chuckled softly. “Were they good?”

  She nodded. “That was the problem,” she said. “They were delicious.”

  After kissing the top of her head, he laid his head on top of hers for a moment. “Really, three scoops is no big deal,” he said soothingly. “And besides, dairy is good for you.”

  She relaxed against him and sighed. “Well, actually, it might have been four,” she admitted. “I lost count after two.”

  Bradley pulled away and looked down at her, she was simply adorable. “Do we need an intervention?” he asked, trying not to smile.

  “We might,” she agreed, the side of her mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Is there a dark chocolate anonymous group I should sign up for?”

  He paused for a moment and finally answered, “Oh, well, if it was dark chocolate, then it has antioxidants that are good for you and the baby.”

  She reached up and kissed him. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she asked.

  “Well, you say that now,” he agreed. “But tomorrow morning we start working out again.”

  “Working out?” she asked.

  “Uh-huh, Krape Park at five-thirty,” he said. “I understand exercise is vital for pregnant women.”

  “Five-thirty?” she gasped. “But how about my morning sickness?”

  “I’ve read that exercise is great for morning sickness too,” he added.

  “You know what, Bradley Alden,” she muttered.

  He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. “What Mary Alden?” he asked.

  “You read way too much!”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  “Can I have ice cream for dessert?” Clarissa asked as they sat around the table later that evening.

  “Hmmm, well, I think we should ask your mother,” Bradley said with a smirk. “She really is an expert on both ice cream and healthy eating habits.”

  She shot a quick glare at Bradley before turning to Clarissa with a smile. “Of course you can, sweetheart,” she said. “What kind would you like?”

  “Rocky Road,” Clarissa called, “that’s my favorite.”

  Bradley started to stand, but Mary delayed him, shaking her head. “No, please, let me get it,” she said pointedly. “I need the exercise.”

  “Mary, I never said…”

  She waved away his explanation. “No, really, that’s okay,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I don’t mind.”

  Chuckling, he reached over and helped himself to another spoonful of potatoes. “Well, as long as you don’t mind,” he teased.

  “You are so insensitive,” she said with a grin and got up and walked over to the refrigerator.

  Mike leaned back against the kitchen wall. “I always loved ice cream,” he said. “That’s the one food I miss the most. Well, other than pizza, donuts and nachos.”

  “The four manly food groups,” Bradley said.

  Pulling the container of ice cream out of the freezer, Mary placed it on the counter and opened the lid. “How many scoops would you like?” she asked.

  “Is two scoops too many?” Clarissa asked.

  Mary shot Bradley a glare before he could even open his mouth. “Don’t even,” she warned.

  He shrugged innocently and said, “What? I wasn’t going to say a word.”

  “Two is fine,” she said to Clarissa. “Two is perfect.”

  Clarissa looked back and forth between her parents and then glanced at Mike, who shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he said.

  She studied them for a little while longer and then finally said, “Remember, I’m going to see Dr. Springler tomorrow afternoon. Is there anything you want me to ask her for you?”

  At first there was dead silence in the room. Mary froze in place, the ice cream scoop dripping onto the counter. Bradley turned in his chair and stared at his daughter. Finally Mike chuckled. Then Mary and Bradley both started laughing at the same time.

  Leaning against the counter, tears streaming down her face, Mary held her sides as the laughter hit her in waves. Dropping the scoop on the counter, she tried to pick up the bowl of ice cream, but just couldn’t get her hands to work.

  Bradley tried to stand, to help her, but couldn’t gather the strength to stand up.

  “Do they do this often?” Mike asked Clarissa.

  Grinning, Clarissa shook her head. “Should I tell Dr. Springler?” she asked.

  “She’d never believe you,” he replied.

  Looking at Mike, her guardian angel leaning against the kitchen wall and at her parents, weak with laughter, Clarissa decided there were a lot of things Dr. Springler would never believe.

  Finally, after taking a deep breath for self-control, Mary was able to pick up the bowl of ice cream and carry it over to the table. “I’m so sorry, Clarissa,” she wheezed. “For some reason, that was just so funny.”

  Sitting back against his chair, Bradley shook his head in agreement. “I think we’re back to normal now.”

  Gliding over to sit in the empty chair, Mike shook his head. “You two were never normal,” he said. “Don’t pretend now.”

  Giggling and digging into her ice cream, Clarissa nodded. “That’s okay though,” she said. “Normal parents are boring.”

  “Well, we certainly aren’t boring,” Mary agreed and, seeing that Clarissa was relaxed and content, decided to inquire about her day. “So how was school today? Did you feel a little safer with the GPS device?”

  With her mouth filled with Rocky Road, Clarissa nodded happily. “It was great,” she mumbled around the ice cream. “I wasn’t scared at all.”

  “That’s great,” Bradley said. “I’m so glad to hear it helped.”

  “Uh huh,” she said, shoveling another spoonful into her mouth. “I only told Maggie about it, no one else. And I told her she could use it too, if any bad guys came.”

  “Well, that was a great idea,” Mary said. “This way, both you and Maggie can feel safer.”

  “Yep,” Clarissa agreed. “And we can use it when we have our business.”

  “Oh, what’s your business going to be?” Bradley asked.

  “Well, we’re going to wait until we’re a little bigger,” she explained. “And then we’re going to take over Mary’s business, cause by then she’ll be way too old and she’ll have to raise the baby.”

  “Yeah, she’s pretty old already,” Mike said with a smirk.

  “And what will you be doing with my business when I’m too old?” Mary asked.

  “Maggie will see the ghosts and I’ll help solve their mysteries,” she said,
and then she looked thoughtful for a moment. “You’ll save us some, won’t you?”

  “Save you some?” Mary asked.

  “Some ghosts,” she said. “You won’t solve all of their problems, will you?”

  Mary laughed. “No, I think there will be plenty of ghosts left.”

  “As a matter of fact, your mother met a new ghost a couple of nights ago,” Bradley said. “She was at Union Dairy and her name is Erika.”

  Mike turned to Mary, his eyes wide. “You met Dead Erika?”

  “I can’t believe you called her that,” Mary replied.

  “Well, her name is Erika and she’s dead,” he said. “That pretty much describes her.”

  “Wait, you know about Dead Erika?” Bradley asked, and then he quickly turned to Mary. “Sorry, his words, not mine.”

  “Yeah, my dad told me all about her,” he said. “She showed up in her high school yearbook picture, like two months after she was dead.”

  “How did she die?” Mary asked.

  Mike sat back in his chair. “Let me think,” he said, looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “There are so many urban legends about her. She was drowned in the high school swimming pool, she fell off the catwalk at Jeannette-Lloyd Theater…”

  “Could that have happened?” Bradley asked.

  “Could have, if the theater had been built then,” he replied.

  “But what’s the truth?” Mary asked. “How did she really die?”

  “I don’t know,” Mike said. “And I don’t know if anyone really does.”

  “How am I supposed to find out the truth?” Mary sighed.

  “Why don’t you just ask her,” Clarissa said.

  Mary paused and turned to Clarissa. “Well, why don’t I?” she said, a smile growing on her face. “Clarissa, you and Maggie are going to be very successful when you take over my business.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Mary slowly stood and walked over to the refrigerator, ignoring the freezer section, and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water. Placing the bottle on the top of the short office-sized appliance, she put both hands on the edge and stretched her legs behind her, groaning softly as her muscles tightened and then, finally, released. “I officially hate working out,” Mary said.

  “I’m sorry, what?” the man’s voice behind her startled her into turning quickly and knocking her water bottle off the fridge and across the room, rolling to the feet of Quinn Edmonson.

  “I’d pick it up for you,” he said. “But as you can see, my arms are a little full.”

  Mary rushed forward; alarmed by the three file boxes he was balancing in his arms in the middle of her office. “Wait, don’t move,” she demanded. “It’s right under your feet and I don’t want you to stumble.”

  She grabbed the bottle and backed up quickly.

  “Where would you like these?” he asked.

  “These?” she responded.

  “The files from the Maughold project,” he replied. “I told you I’d let you borrow them.”

  She hurried over to her desk and pushed everything to one side, leaving a space large enough for the stacked boxes to sit. “Here, this is a great spot,” she said.

  Lowering the boxes to the desk, he slid them in place and stepped back, pulling a handkerchief out his slacks pocket and dabbing his forehead. “They were heavier than I thought,” he said.

  “Did you drive over?” Mary asked.

  He shook his head. “No, my mistake,” he said. “I thought it would be no big deal to carry them over. It’s a very long two blocks from the bank to your office.”

  Mary nodded. “Very long,” she agreed. “How about a bottle of water? I’ll even get you one I haven’t tossed across the room.”

  Smiling, he nodded as he sat in one of the chairs in front of Mary’s desk. “That would be great,” he said. “And, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to hear any information you can share about the Johnson situation.”

  Mary grabbed another bottle of water and walked back to the desk. She handed him the bottle and then sat down across from him. Leaning back, she twisted the top off her bottle and took a drink and allowed him to do the same before she continued.

  “You know, it’s been an interesting case,” she said, wondering how much she could really trust him. “I get the feeling that no one thinks Dale’s death was an accident, but no one wants to betray anyone else.”

  “But wouldn’t their father’s murder be the ultimate betrayal?” he asked.

  Mary met his eyes. “But when you love someone, you are often willing to commit that kind of betrayal,” she said. “Even if it means the guilt makes you end the relationship.”

  He sat forward in his chair. “Are you saying Jessie thought I killed her father and ended the relationship because of it?”

  Mary shrugged. “I think Jessie doesn’t know who killed her dad,” she said. “But I don’t think she, or anyone else, believed he locked himself in that grain silo. So, I think she looked around at the people with motive and, although she never betrayed them, separated herself from them. She is no longer close to her brothers either.”

  Sighing, he shook his head. “Well, at least I’m in good company.”

  “So, tell me why I should believe you didn’t kill Dale Johnson,” Mary said. “Hypothetically, of course.”

  He actually smiled and nodded. “Of course.”

  “Well, on the one hand,” Quinn began. “I really did want them to sell the land. It was my job to get this project done and, if I had done well, there was a promotion in it for me. And if I didn’t get the sales…” He looked around and shrugged. “Well, I would be exactly where I am right now.”

  Mary studied him for a moment. He was a pleasant-looking man and, even though he was leaning toward middle-age paunch, she could tell he probably was on his high-school football team and had been very athletic. He was tall and broad shouldered, and carried himself more like a linebacker than a quarterback. She could see how Jessie would have been attracted to him. But did he use that attractiveness to manipulate her, or had he really cared for her?

  “Okay, so you had motive,” Mary finally said.

  “Yeah, and I knew the farm pretty well,” he added. “I was there when we had the surveyors there.”

  “Surveyors?” Mary asked.

  “Yeah, every property had to have an official survey,” he said. “So we could determine if we wanted to buy all of the land or just a section of it.”

  “So you went on all of the surveys?” she asked.

  “Well, on all the properties I was responsible for,” he said.

  Mary shook her head and sat forward. “Wait, there was someone else buying properties for the project?”

  “No,” he said. “Well, I guess, yes, technically.”

  “Now I’m confused,” she admitted.

  He laughed. “I was the only person in the Freeport area buying properties, but I understand that some people were approached by corporate before I got here and made a deal with them. Kind of laying the ground work.”

  “Did you know which properties?” she asked.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said. “There were so many properties in so many areas, I had no idea which direction the company was heading in. I just took each assignment and made appointments.”

  “So, do you know why they offered the Johnson’s so much money for their property?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, all I know is that they said something about it being a keystone property and it could make or break the deal.”

  “Okay, coming back to your guilt,” Mary said. “This was make-or-break-the-deal property.”

  “Yeah, it was,” he said. “And I talked to Dale Johnson until I was blue in the face. But, legacy was more important to him than money. There was nothing I could do to persuade him. When you check the files, you’ll find a letter from me to corporate stating that the Johnson property was a no-go and they were going to have to re-evaluate things.”

  �
��When did you send that?” she asked.

  “About a week before he died,” Quinn replied. “But I still don’t think they sent a hit man down from Chicago to take him out.”

  Mary nodded. “Yeah, neither do I,” she admitted. “I will tell you that when I mentioned to Jessie that I spoke with you, she asked me how you were doing.”

  He sat up and grinned. “She did?”

  “Yes, and she seemed a little distracted for a while,” Mary added. “Not like someone who was no longer interested, if you know what I mean.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” he asked. “I could be the bad guy.”

  “My gut tells me you’re not the bad guy,” she said. “And if I’m going to solve this one, I have a feeling I’m going to need some help.”

  He stood and leaned over her desk, offering her his hand. “You’ve got it,” he said. “Whatever I can do, just let me know. And when it’s over…”

  “Yes?”

  He smiled shyly. “If I have my way, I’ll invite you to the wedding.”

  She stood up, took his hand and shook it. “I’ll be there,” she said. “With bells on.”

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Mary looked up from the tenth folder and slowly rolled her head, getting all the kinks out of her neck. She reached over, without looking, and lifted her bottle of water to her lips, only to find it dry. “Dang, when did that happen?” she murmured.

  She turned to her computer screen, looked at the time and sat up straight in her chair. “Crap!” she cried, grabbing her phone and dialing Rosie’s number.

  Rosie answered on the first ring. “Rosie Wagner.”

  “Rosie, this is Mary and I am so sorry,” she said. “I got caught up in the case and didn’t watch the time. I know I was supposed to meet you for lunch.”

  Mary could hear Rosie’s laughter through the phone. “So you really didn’t see me, did you?” she asked.

  “See you?”

  “I stood outside your office building and waved my hand like a looney-bird,” she explained. “When you still didn’t budge, I figured you were caught up, so I got us lunch to go. How do roast beef sandwiches on hard rolls sound?”

  “Amazing,” Mary said, realizing she really was hungry. “Um, did they include pickles?”