Spouse on Haunted Hill

by E. J. Copperman

  It was, in a sick, twisted way, but I’d been playing for time and now I was rewarded. Footsteps in the hallway led to the arrival in my movie room entrance of Constance and Harry Rendell.

  The Swine’s eyes opened to an uncomfortable-looking size. “Mom? Dad?” Not only was he going to be squeezed for information, but his parents were going to see him removed from a situation like the insignificant bungler they’d always suspected he was.

  In some ways, this was turning into a really enjoyable evening.

  Josh looked over at me and mouthed, “Mom and Dad?” I nodded. He shook his head in wonder and smiled just a little bit.

  “Come in,” I told the Rendells. “Have you met Mr. Maroni and company?”

  Maroni, apparently now believing he was the host of the evening, reached for Harry’s hand and shook it. “Nice to meet you,” he said. “This your son?” He pointed at The Swine.

  Harry nodded, his eyes registering sincere confusion at the whole situation. “Yeah.” That was it.

  “We were told we should be here tonight and so we’re here,” Constance said, not looking in my direction. I hadn’t even had to hint at blackmail to get her to show up and bring Harry with her.

  Maxie floated down from the ceiling, saw the gathered assemblage and stopped. She’s not crazy about crowds of people she doesn’t know, and the group seemed to put her off her game. She lost the trench coat and if they had looked up, the civilians in the room would have seen a floating laptop computer for a moment. They didn’t look up, except Josh, who was used to it and smiled. He seems to think Maxie has an impish sense of humor. I don’t get that but then, Josh can’t actually see or hear Maxie, which probably adds to her appeal.

  “I’ve got something,” she said to me. “I’m not sure what it means, but yeah, your DuBois guy is the one who has the patent on this SafT thing. I knew that before, but what I didn’t know is that your ex’s name is also on the papers.”

  I couldn’t react, but that news came as a surprise. I looked at Dad, who was listening even as he watched Paul rise from the basement. My father was also tracing a wire from the back of the flat-screen to a small box Paul had constructed from pieces he’d dug out of my used electronics and plugged into the wall. I didn’t know what it was supposed to do, but a green light was flashing on it.

  I tried to say something, but Maxie was already rising back up through the ceiling. “I can’t work in here,” she complained. I wanted to tell her to find Everett so I could get the scoop on Josh’s meeting with The Swine, but she was gone.

  “Mixed success from our search,” Paul said. “One of my contacts in the area of your in-laws’ home managed to search the house and the garage, but could not find the paperwork Maroni is looking for.”

  I turned toward The Swine, but he was already looking at me with deep suspicion in his eyes. “What’s going on here tonight?” he sort of hissed.

  “Dinner,” I answered sweetly. “I think we’re having chicken.” I looked over at Maroni. “You guys aren’t vegetarians, are you?”

  “We’ll manage,” he said.

  The doorbell rang, a rarity in my house, since guests are often coming and going, so I went to answer the door and found my mother already there. “Melissa doesn’t need my help,” she explained while we reached the front room together. “I think I’m getting in her way.”

  I opened the front door and there stood Susannah Nesbit looking quite annoyed. And I hadn’t even said hello yet.

  “Why did you call me here?” she demanded. “I have some very serious paperwork that needs to be completed tonight.” She was back in businesswoman mode and her severe bun was evidence thereof. This was Executive Susannah, inconvenienced for unknown reasons.

  “Well, you still have to eat, don’t you?” I suggested, taking her coat. “Please, let my mom show you the movie room. We’re all gathering in there until dinner is ready.”

  “I don’t think you understand,” Susannah said as Mom took her by the arm. “I don’t appreciate being summoned to a place I’ve never been with no explanation whatsoever.”

  “That’s nice, dear,” Mom said, and made sure Susannah kept on walking.

  I was hanging up her coat and hat—don’t ask—when they reached the entrance to the movie room and I heard Executive Susannah’s voice become that of Cheerleader Susannah, whom I believed I had met at the Harbor Haven Police Station earlier that day. “Steven!” she squealed, and Mom no longer needed to lead her by the arm, as she bounded out of my sight. Then I heard her say, “Harry!” and I remembered she knew Steven’s dad. I couldn’t read her inflection on that one—surprise? Confusion? Worry?

  Mom gave me an eye roll and then turned back and walked into the movie room to organize the assembly.

  I would have followed her, but Tony and Jeannie appeared in the doorway with both children in tow. “Couldn’t get a sitter,” Tony explained. “Short notice.”

  “I’ll get Mom back into the kitchen with Liss and they can stay in there,” I said. “We keep the sharp objects above toddler level.”

  “Alson,” said Oliver. It’s the best he can do with my name, and I adore it. He grabbed my calf and hugged it. “Alson.”

  “Hi, Ollie. Wanna see Melissa?”

  “Yeah!”

  “I’ll take them,” Jeannie told me. “But then I’m coming in to watch whatever it is you’re doing. This should be fun.”

  Tony followed me into the movie room, where quite the crowd had gathered. He was greeted warmly by Mom and Josh, nodded at by The Swine and fairly ignored by everybody else. Of course the ghosts couldn’t acknowledge him, but Maxie, back on this floor of the house, had once tried to kiss Tony and hasn’t forgiven him for it, looked displeased.

  Mom did indeed go to help with the kids in the kitchen, and Jeannie almost immediately took her place among us.

  So there we were: The Swine and his parents, Maroni and his lifeguards, Susannah hanging off The Swine’s arm while keeping an eye on Harry and being ignored for her trouble, Bobby just sitting nearby like a loyal golden retriever, Josh, Tony, Jeannie and me among the living. And the three ghosts hovering in the air over it all like a transparent Greek chorus.

  I got to fulfill a lifetime ambition at that moment, and I savored it. I walked to the front of the room, stood in front of the large TV and whistled through my teeth for quiet, which surprisingly I got. All eyes were upon me. I wished Melissa could be here to witness my moment of triumph, but there were potatoes to be mashed.

  Having rehearsed this repeatedly, I knew not to clear my throat ahead of time. I simply looked out over the crowd and smiled.

  “So,” I said. “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you all here tonight.”

  Twenty-two

  For all my effort, I got little more than a tableau of stares.

  “What is this,” I asked, “an audience or an oil painting?”

  Paul looked over at my father and then pointed at the wire from his homemade electrical doohickey. “Does this go straight to the power supply, or is there a breaker?” he asked.

  Dad didn’t blink. “Breaker. Number seven.”

  “What are you going on about?” Constance demanded. “Is this some kind of a joke?” Constance would have to ask because she has never been sincerely amused by anything in her life, so she wouldn’t be familiar with a joke. Unless it was the reverend with the garters. He was pretty funny.

  Paul stroked his goatee, but just once. Interest, not fascination. “Any way to bypass it?” he asked my father.

  “Maybe,” Dad said, nodding. “Want to take a look?” He headed toward the wall, probably with the intention of entering it.

  “Let me get a flashlight,” Paul said. He was actually going to leave the room in the middle of an investigation to tend to this Frankenstein experiment that was likely to burn my house down. Now I was annoyed on top of fee
ling insulted.

  “We’re here to discuss the murder of Maurice DuBois,” I reminded, well, everybody. I tried to regain the air of dignity and drama I mistakenly thought I’d had the minute before. “The most likely answer is that the person who shot him is in this room right now.”

  Josh stood up and walked to my side. That’s what he does, and that’s the reason I wanted to marry him. One of them, anyway. He gestured to me to lean close, so I did. “Is dinner going to be ready soon?” he asked quietly.

  Saying the wedding was off would probably be an overreaction. Instead I decided we could get married and he could keep living in his apartment. Wait. That was more convenient for him. No. He’d have to come live with me. That’d be his punishment.

  “What makes you think that?” At least someone had some interest. Jeannie.

  “Everyone who knew DuBois was in New Jersey is here,” I explained. “He flew in from Los Angeles the same night as you, Steven, and that means he followed you. He probably wasn’t planning the trip, just like you weren’t.”

  The Swine seemed wildly interested in his shoes. He did not look up or speak. They must have been some shoes.

  “I didn’t know he was here,” Susannah pointed out. “I never even heard about the guy until you told me his name.”

  “That’s what you’re saying,” I answered. “But you couldn’t possibly be stupid enough to buy that line about throwing the briefcase in the Shark River, so I’m assuming everything you say is part of an act of some kind.”

  “What do you mean, stupid?” she demanded.

  Lou Maroni stretched as if he’d been sleeping for hours and had just awoken. “It’s not that this isn’t fascinating,” he said, “but my original plan was to take your ex-husband here and persuade him to tell me about the patent documents, so if you don’t have something new to tell us, why don’t I just go about taking care of that?” He gestured to the statuary who had walked in with him, and they moved back over toward The Swine.

  “Wait,” Susannah said, voice hushed. The entire group stopped and looked at her. She pointed at me. “You’re the ex-wife?”

  I rethought my position on her not being stupid.

  Harry Rendell walked to my left side, opposite Josh. “What’s really going on here?” he asked me in a conspiratorial tone. “That guy wants to work Steven over?”

  “It’s something he’s been talking about,” I told him. “I’ve been trying to think of reasons he shouldn’t.”

  Harry snorted just a little. “Really?”

  “You’re terrible.” I hit him on the arm.

  “You have no idea.” Was he trying to tell me something? Could Harry have shot DuBois so his son would have the clear rights to SafT? I couldn’t really picture that.

  “I told you, Lou,” The Swine chimed in. “I really and truly have no idea where those papers are. I’m not sure Maurice had them on him. Maybe the guy who shot him took them with him.”

  I looked up at Paul, who was deep in discussion with my father about electrical lines. I was running out of allies in this room, and pretty much everyone I’d ever met was here. “Look,” I said with a new huskiness in my voice that was born of frustration. “Nobody gets any chicken until we hear some truth. So we’re going to go around the room and everyone here is going to say where they were at ten o’clock on Saturday.” That was roughly the time DuBois had breathed his last in an alley behind a tavern.

  “I was home with the kids, and so was Tony,” Jeannie volunteered. You can always count on Jeannie to get the ball rolling, something her baby daughter found seriously hilarious in other contexts.

  “Thanks, Jean. Okay, Susannah. How about you?”

  “I don’t want to say.” She was looking suddenly nervous, not making eye contact with anyone in the room, which was no small feat. “I’ll pass.”

  “Fine, but you just became the prime suspect.” I didn’t think for one second that Susannah Nesbit had shot DuBois, but I’d decided I didn’t like her, so I had no motivation to let her off the hook. Besides, I couldn’t let the others in the room think that refusing to answer was a viable option or by my own rules, I wouldn’t be eating dinner soon.

  “I didn’t shoot anybody,” Susannah protested. “I just don’t want to say where I was, okay?” Was she looking at Harry again?

  “No. It’s not okay. You’re the only person I know for sure had the murder weapon in her possession. So you don’t get to say that you don’t feel like talking. That makes you sound even more guilty, and I can call Lieutenant McElone to get some more answers if you like. Her questioning carries a few more consequences.”

  “Okay!” She couldn’t decide if she should be indignant or petulant and came down in the middle, which was essentially a sixteen-year-old being told she couldn’t go to the party if her geometry grade didn’t go up ten points. “The fact is I was with a guy.” Her look immediately went to The Swine, who seemed not to have heard because damn, those shoes were so engrossing. “I’m so sorry, Steven.”

  At the sound of his name my ex-husband looked up. “Why?”

  Harry, I noticed, had not reacted at all to what was being said, and seemed utterly uninterested in Susannah in any way. Which was kind of a relief.

  I decided to move on. “Constance?” I asked.

  She looked at me as if I’d said her name in Swahili. “Yes?” Like son, like mother. Or something.

  “Where were you Friday evening around ten?” I said, voice as sweet as whatever dessert Melissa was preparing in the kitchen, which was certain to be amazing.

  “Oh, don’t be absurd.” My ex-mother-in-law sniffed. “I don’t have to justify my every movement to you.”

  Now, I could definitely picture Constance eliminating her son’s competition without so much as a flutter, so that answer was interesting. I fixed her with a look. “Don’t you?” I asked.

  Constance blanched and stole a glance at her husband, who seemed just as uninterested in her questioning as he was in his son’s girlfriend, who knew him first. He was strolling the perimeter of the room, stopping to glad-hand with one of Maroni’s sculptures for a moment before realizing the man wasn’t talking back, but was staying within grabbing distance of Harry’s son in case Maroni called for that yet again.

  “Fine,” she said, forcing herself to look away from Harry. “I was at the movies. With my husband.”

  “What did you see?” I asked.

  “What?”

  You heard me. “What did you see? What movie?”

  Constance looked at Harry again. “What movie did we see Saturday night?” she asked him.

  He looked slightly startled, as if he’d been thinking about something else entirely, like how to find a really good sirloin in the supermarket when you couldn’t see the bottom of the steak because of the packaging. “Movie?” he asked.

  “Saturday night,” Constance emphasized. “Remember?”

  “You can’t send him signals,” I suggested. “He’s not going to pick up on your game. Where were you really?”

  She attempted to stare me down. “We were at the movies,” she said.

  I stared back. “No. You weren’t. So where were you?”

  “Come on.” The Swine, apparently having memorized his shoes and ignored the fact that Susannah was as much a two-timer as he was, stood up. “You know for a fact that my mother didn’t shoot Maurice DuBois. She didn’t even know I was in town Saturday night. So can we get to the point, please?”

  “Well, you’re still the most obvious candidate, so how about telling us where you were after you left Josh’s apartment Saturday night?” I said.

  Steven did exactly what I wouldn’t have expected. He looked over at Josh and smiled. That was creepy enough, but it got worse when he asked my fiancé, “Do you want to tell her, or should I?” There was no way anything said immediately after that could be good.


  My father’s head pivoted quickly to stare at Josh, but it couldn’t beat mine because I had started looking at him as soon as Steven began to speak. Josh looked somewhat bemused but not seriously guilty about anything. I guessed that was a good thing, anyway.

  “Well, the truth is Steven never left the apartment that night,” Josh said, looking at me. “I was covering for him because he wanted people to think he was out.”

  “You lied to me?” The words came out of my mouth, but I hadn’t planned them. It was like someone else was speaking and I was listening.

  “I’m sorry, Alison. It seemed like the thing to do at the time. I didn’t know someone was going to get shot.”

  “You lied to me,” I repeated. That was a little more conscious, but not much. Then I turned toward The Swine, who I now realized was the source of all that was evil in the world and needed to be cast out before the sun rose again. Or something.

  Luckily Jeannie stepped forward and took over, advancing on The Swine. “Why on earth would you make him lie to her about you being out when you were staying in?” Yeah. How did that make sense?

  “There were people looking for me,” Steven mumbled. “I didn’t want them to find me, not then. And I knew they’d come here. So if Alison thought I was somewhere else, they wouldn’t look for me where I really was.” That was the purest example of Swine Logic I could recall hearing. It sounded perfectly reasonable until you thought about what the words actually meant.

  But I was still stunned by Josh’s part in this business. “So that’s what you were talking about when he came to see you in the store today,” I said.

  Josh did a double take. “What?”

  “When Steven drove to Madison Paints today. What was that all about?” It didn’t matter who was in the room anymore; I was barely noticing there were other people despite the multitudes in front of me. All that mattered was clearing this all up with Josh, because the floorboards under my feet felt like they were shifting in an earthquake and I was finding it hard to stand straight. I had to get my balance again, and he was the source.