“Yes, although he was back in time for the funeral,” Erna replied. “It broke my heart to see him standing in the front pew with his sons, wearing an old suit from his banking days. The jacket just hung on him. I think it took everything he had to get through the service that day.”
“His boys don’t come around to see him anymore, that’s for sure,” May said. “The only person he ever talks to is Father Winfield. He comes around the store once a week to pick up food, though. Canned stew, soup, eggs, bread – that’s all he ever buys. I told him once that I didn’t see how a man could live on that, but he just shrugged. I hear he’s in the liquor store at least once a week. That’s where his money goes, you can bet. And that beautiful head of hair. All grey, and I’m sure he cuts it himself with the kitchen scissors. It’s a crying shame.”
The women sipped from their mugs in silence.
“Poor man,” Anna mused. “And now he thinks his dead wife is calling to him.”
“More likely a delusion brought on by alcohol and remorse,” Erna said. “I wonder if it’s right to hold this séance, considering his state of mind. Perhaps Evelyn’s death is becoming a morbid obsession with him.”
“I never looked at it that way. We don’t want to push him over the edge,” May said, her face troubled.
“But if this séance helps him to feel better, maybe he’ll finally make his peace with Evelyn’s death. Wait a minute,” Anna said, brightening, “we could make sure that the séance helps. What if Tiernay fakes a message from Evelyn? Something about forgiveness and telling Sherman she still loves him. That would help, wouldn’t it?” She looked at the other women. “Do you think that we could talk Tiernay into doing it?”
“What a wonderful idea,” Erna said. “I’m sure that if I explained it to her, she would want to help Sherman. I’ll drop by her store tomorrow to broach the subject. Between the four of us, I’m sure that we can come up with a convincing plan.”
“Great. If there’s anything I can do, just let me know,” Anna said.
“I can jostle the table with my knee, or knock on it, or something,” May said.
“I’ll suggest it to Tiernay, and we’ll see what she thinks. Well, this is all very promising. I’m actually looking forward to the séance now that I think it might do Sherman some good,” Erna said.
“With or without Tiernay’s help, we’ll make sure that it does,” Anna replied.
Chapter Seven
Anna felt good as she strode through town on her way to the séance on Monday night. Not only was the weather milder, but she felt safe walking alone at night again now that Henry Fellows no longer posed a threat. She had stopped in at May’s to pick up some milk on the way home, and had learned that the police had found Henry’s abandoned car on a side road just two kilometres south of Calgary. He could easily have walked to the city from there, and the Calgary police were looking for him. Happily, Henry was no longer Crane’s problem.
Feeling safe from human attack didn’t stop Anna from hurrying by the cemetery once she had passed St. Bernadette’s Catholic Church. There was something spooky about a graveyard at night that unsettled even the most rational of people, including herself. As she rushed past the cemetery gates, Anna spotted the caretaker’s house through the trees and thought how lonely it looked all by itself. It was quite on the outskirts of town. Her own cottage was the last house on Wistler Road before it headed into the countryside, but she liked her privacy and had Betty and Jeff Hiller living next door, if she wanted them. Sherman had no one.
Tonight there were two cars parked out front of the caretaker’s house, one of them May’s old Buick, and the other a red sports car belonging to Tiernay. No doubt May had given Erna a lift, even though the older woman lived just three blocks away from Sherman on the other side of the church. As fit as Erna was at her age, she was cautious and didn’t like walking alone after dark.
Anna paused on the sidewalk to study the house. Two over-grown ash trees blocked most of the light from the porch lamp, leaving the yard steeped in gloom. The white stucco gleamed like bone through the branches, and the roofline drooped over the second storey. Anna shivered, thinking how creepy the house looked, and hurried up the cracked cement walkway to the front steps. The porch was small, just big enough to hold a folding chair and a low plastic table. At least Sherman kept the porch floor painted and swept. She knocked on the door with her knuckles and stood on a hunk of worn outdoor carpet, waiting for someone to let her in.
Sherman opened the door dressed in a pair of faded jeans with a nubby brown cardigan over a greyish-white shirt. Anna noticed that his feet were bare inside a pair of bedroom slippers.
“Come in,” he said, backing into the foyer and indicating that she should enter.
“Nice night,” she said, stepping onto a mat and bending to untie her shoe laces.
“Keep them on. It won’t make any difference to the carpet.”
“If you’re sure?” Anna asked, straightening. She closed the door behind her and looked past Sherman into the living room. He was right about the carpet. It was a threadbare grey-blue, its pattern practically obliterated by years of passing feet. The furnishings ‒ a sagging velvet couch, a spindly-legged wooden coffee table, a rocking chair, and an ancient television on a metal stand ‒ looked like cast-offs from a church garage sale. The room was devoid of any knickknacks or personal decoration except for a framed family portrait hanging over the couch. Anna ventured into the room to study it by the single lamp. In the picture, a younger, handsome Sherman stood behind a seated blond woman with three boys grouped around her. Sherman was wearing a tailored navy suit with a white shirt and red-and-blue-striped tie. His thick, golden hair was combed straight back from his forehead, just as Erna had described it.
“Your family?” Anna asked, gesturing at the picture.
“Yes,” Sherman said, pausing to look. “That’s Robert, Michael, and Douglas, my sons. And Evie,” he said, pointing to the woman.
Anna scrutinized Evelyn. She looked to be in her early thirties, a pretty woman with ash blond hair swept back into a chignon, her cheeks rosy and her blue eyes confident. A peach rose corsage was pinned to the chest of her blue-and-white printed dress.
“She was lovely,” Anna remarked.
“Yes, she was,” Sherman said, tearing his gaze away from the portrait to look at Anna. “The others are waiting in the dining room. It’s this way.”
He led her down a gloomy panelled hallway into the dining room. Tiernay, May, and Erna were already there, seated at a rectangular table atop a plain wooden floor. The tabletop was bare except for a box of matches beside a brass candelabra holding four unlit white tapers. The women looked up as Anna and Sherman entered.
“Welcome, Anna,” Tiernay said in a ponderous voice. She wore a floor-length, skin-tight, black velvet dress with plenty of décolletage and long, fitted sleeves. Her only ornament was a coiled silver snake pendant with amber eyes that nestled on a silver chain in her cleavage. Her light blue eyes were rimmed with kohl, and her lips and fingernails were tinted to match her incandescent red hair. Anna smothered a smile; Tiernay looked as though she were auditioning for the role of “creature of the night” in that get-up.
“Sherman, please take your seat at the other end of the table,” the young woman said. “Anna, sit here next to the door.”
“Can I get you a cup of coffee first, Anna?” Sherman asked, hesitating. “It’s only instant, I’m afraid.”
“Thanks, but I’m not a coffee drinker,” Anna said. She slid into her assigned seat and waved at Erna and May across the table while Sherman sat down.
“Greg was here earlier to help with my preparations,” Tiernay said. Anna looked around the almost vacant room, wondering what preparation she meant. The only other piece of furniture was a small black cabinet situated to the left of the door. It held four multi-coloured candles inserted into crystal candlesticks.
“We’ve sprinkled St. John’s Wort around the room and burnt yarro
w to protect against psychic attack. I’m going to cast a circle of protection. I want you all to imagine it encircling the room and shielding us against evil.” Tiernay picked up the box of matches from the tabletop and walked to the cabinet. Striking a match, she lit the green candle first.
“This goes in the north corner of the room,” she said. Carrying the candle there, Tiernay crouched to set it on the floor. “Guardian of the earth, protect this coven against evil,” she intoned, waving her hands over the flames three times. She rose in one fluid motion, bowed, and returned to the cabinet. Choosing the red candle, she lit it and carried the candle to the southern corner.
“Guardian of fire, protect this coven against evil,” she prayed. She followed the same procedure with the blue and yellow candles, calling upon the elements of water and air for protection. When she had finished, she rejoined the others at the table.
Removing a dainty black silk pouch from her cleavage, Tiernay said, “I’ve chosen a stone or a crystal for each of you. I want you to kiss it and place it in the centre of the table to form a protective ring.” Opening the drawstring, she poured the objects into her palm and handed one to each person.
“A fire agate for strength and courage for Anna, a white selenite for peace and safety for Erna, a black obsidian to thwart negativity and enhance resilience for May, and a purple amethyst to open psychic channels for Sherman. For myself, I chose amber to melt opposition.” They all kissed their stones and laid them on the table top as bidden, making a colourful ring around the candelabra.
“Now that we’re protected, we can begin,” Tiernay said. “Sherman, light the candles, if you please.” Sherman rose and lit each of the white tapers with the match shaking in his fingers.
“Thank you. May, turn off the ceiling light.” May rolled her eyes at Tiernay’s imperious tone, but jumped up to flip off the wall switch, dousing the electric chandelier. In the flickering candle light, the room assumed a magical quality, no longer bare and forlorn.
Covering her face with her hands, the young woman muttered a string of words to herself, raising her head to finish more audibly with, “Mother Earth, we find our strength in you.” That done, she gazed in turn at the others.
“Let’s join hands,” she directed, holding her hands out to Anna and May. When Anna took Sherman’s hand, she found it cold and rough. She watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering how he would react to the upcoming events. His face was anxious, and his attention was focused entirely upon Tiernay.
The young woman peered toward the shadowy doorway. “We are here tonight to summon the spirit of Evelyn Mason,” she intoned. “Evelyn, Sherman heard you calling to him in the graveyard last Monday night. He believes that something troubles you. We want to help you to find peace. What disturbs your slumber?” She paused, and Anna held her breath, wondering what Tiernay had in store for them.
Nothing happened. Tiernay seemed content to wait, however, staring into the shadows. The other women waited in silence, glancing at each other and around the room.
After a minute had passed, Tiernay added, “Please don’t be afraid, Evelyn. Speak to us. Tell us what’s wrong. We’re your friends. We can help you.” She waited again, her chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths, her eyes staring into the doorway. When another minute had passed without result, she turned her gaze upon Sherman.
“Why don’t you try summoning her?” she suggested.
Sherman licked his cracked lips. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”
“Tell her that you love her. Let her know that you’re worried about her.”
He nodded. “All right, I’ll give it a try.” Peering around the room first as if his wife’s spirit might be hiding in the corners, he licked his lips again and said, “Evie, it’s me, Sherman. Are you okay, honey? I thought I heard you calling to me in the cemetery the other night. Is there anything you need, Evie? Anything at all?”
He paused, and suddenly there was a loud rap on the table top. Everyone jumped; everyone except Tiernay.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said, squeezing Anna and May’s hands. “We’ve made contact. That’s excellent. Just keep holding hands and maintain the circle. Try to focus your inner eye on Evelyn.” In an encouraging tone, she added, “You’re doing fine, Sherman. Keep talking.”
Sherman cleared his throat before saying, “Are you there, Evie? Is there anything you want to say to me?”
As they waited, Anna thought she heard a tinkling sound. She glanced at May and Erna, wondering if they could hear it, too. May winked and Erna nodded. After a few moments, the sound grew louder, and Anna realized that it was music. It sounded odd, however, as if it were being played on an old-fashioned player piano. It was just a fragment of a song, the same two bars of melody being played over and over again.
“Where’s it coming from?” May asked, looking over her shoulder.
“I’m not sure,” Anna said, craning her head upward. “From above us, maybe?”
“I recognize that melody,” Erna said. “It’s ‘Lara’s Theme’.”
“What’s that?” Anna asked.
“From the movie Dr. Zhivago,” Erna replied.
“Sherman, is there some significance to this music?” Tiernay asked. Anna turned to look at the caretaker. His eyes looked haunted.
“Evie loved that movie. She used to have a music box in her bedroom that played that song. It sounded just like this. I don’t know what happened to it. I haven’t seen it in months.”
“Good, we’re making more progress,” Tiernay said. “Stay focused, everyone.”
Anna looked at the group seated around the table. Tiernay’s eyes were closed in concentration, Sherman’s face was haggard, May looked impatient, and Erna was staring fixedly past her toward the hallway.
“Look,” Erna said in an urgent voice, nodding toward the door. May gasped as Anna turned to see.
A white fog was seeping into the doorway. It accumulated on the threshold, thickening into a cloud until the sill disappeared, and spilled out over the floorboards. It crept in tendrils across the floor, inching its way toward the table. Holding her breath, Anna watched the fog reach her feet and felt its moist cold wrap around her ankles. Staring as her shoes disappeared, she heard an odd wheezing sound coming from nearby. She turned to look at Sherman. His breath rattled through his open mouth as he stared at the fog.
“It’s okay,” Anna said, giving his hand a squeeze. For pity’s sake, this little show was supposed to help the poor man, not give him a heart attack. She gave Tiernay a sharp look, wishing that she would get on with a comforting message from Evelyn, but the young woman didn’t notice her. She was staring into the candle flames, oblivious to everyone around her.
“Tiernay,” Anna said, giving the young woman’s hand a shake, but Tiernay’s eyes were fixed and unblinking, glittering strangely in the candlelight. She didn’t seem to hear.
“Tiernay, are you all right, dear?” Erna asked.
As everyone stared, Tiernay’s mouth dropped open. “Sherman,” she whispered, her lips moving while the rest of her face seemed set in stone. “Sher-mannn.”
“Is that you, Evie?” the caretaker asked, his expression strained.
“Murder,” Tiernay muttered.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“My murder must be avenged,” Tiernay said in a monotone. Anna stared at her. Was she insane? This was so not the message that she was supposed to give to Sherman.
“Avenged?” Sherman said, his voice cracking over the two syllables.
“I suffer. I cannot rest. There is no peace while my murderer lives.”
Sherman gaped at her, his face a mask of horror.
“Stop it!” May hissed.
Slowly, the young woman turned to Sherman, fixing him with terrible, staring eyes. He recoiled from her gaze, ripping his hands from Erna and Anna’s.
“We are bound together in both worlds,” Tiernay said. “You cannot escape me, Sherman.” He moaned and bu
ried his face in his hands.
Erna rose from her chair, marched around the table, and thrust herself in front of Tiernay. Grasping the young woman’s shoulders, she gave her a good shake. Tiernay’s head bobbed up and down like a limp doll’s, but her eyes remained fixed and staring. Erna took hold of her chin and slapped her hard across the face. The sound reverberated around the room. The ceiling light flashed on, and Tiernay slumped, face-first, onto the table.
Sherman broke into a sob, his shoulders heaving. Dismayed, Anna jumped up from her chair and hurried to slip an arm around his shoulders. May stood beside the light switch, staring at Erna.
“Well!” Erna said with a frown. “This is certainly not what I expected.”
Chapter Eight
They got nothing useful from Tiernay that evening. Erna had to use smelling salts to revive her, and when the young woman awoke, she protested that she could not remember anything after the fog had appeared in the doorway.
“Evelyn’s spirit possessed me,” she groaned, holding her head in her hands.
May bustled over to take command of Sherman, releasing Anna to join Erna and Tiernay.
“I’ve got to go home,” the young woman insisted. “My head’s splitting.”
“I don’t know, dear. You don’t look as if you’re fit to drive,” Erna said.
“I’ll take her,” Anna offered. “That’s your red car out front, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Thank you, Anna,” the young woman said, glancing up at her with genuine gratitude in her kohl-streaked eyes. “I really don’t feel up to driving.”
“That’s okay,” Anna said. “But what are we going to do about Sherman?” May was talking earnestly with the caretaker, who looked shrunken, huddled in his chair. After a moment, she nodded and got up to join the others while Sherman stumbled from the room, turning on the hallway light as he passed.
“Sherman’s coming home with me tonight,” May said, her face determined. “He’s just gone to collect a few things. We’ll drop you off on the way, Erna.” Erna pursed her lips, and May added, “Well, we can’t leave him here alone tonight. Not after what she just said.” She jerked her head toward Tiernay.
Town Haunts Page 5
