Mavis walked around the room, checking the candles, closing the drapes, and making sure the air conditioner vents were directed away from the table. “Okay, Sophie, it’s set up the same way as before. Are you ready to do this?”
They each took their usual seats around the table, all traces of their earlier silliness locked away. Though this had started out as fun and games, it had turned into something very serious and possibly very scary.
“This is something new I’m going to try, so don’t laugh,” Sophie said. “In order to communicate with Thomas in a way we can understand him, the book says we should use a method known as psychic writing.”
“What the hell is psychic writing?” Toots asked.
“Well, it’s where a loved one of the deceased concentrates and thinks of the person she wishes to communicate with while holding a pencil and scribbling in circles on a piece of paper. The book says that if the spirit comes through, it has the ability to manipulate the writing and get its message across. Ida, that means you’re going to have to do this. Are you up for this?”
“Yes I’m up for it, but I’m hesitant to think that it will work. What am I supposed to write so that the spirit will guide my hand and deliver a message?” Ida asked.
“You don’t write anything at all. You just need to concentrate and scribble in circles. The spirit will channel his or her energy into you, and it’s supposed to trigger your subconscious into writing the message. We just need a pad of paper and a pencil. The book says that the graphite in the pencil helps energy flow through you and allows the spirit to communicate in words rather than moving water glasses.”
“This might sound crazy, but it just might work. I have a leather binder that belonged to Thomas. He took it everywhere with him on his business trips. I even think there’s some old paper left in there. If he’s going to come through, that definitely would be the object he would write on. He used to sit in bed at night dictating notes for his secretary to type.”
“That’s not a bad idea. Why don’t you run upstairs and find that? Then we’ll get started,” Sophie suggested, displaying none of the goofiness and sarcasm involved in her normal way of communicating. This was becoming more important to her. If she could help those on the other side, then she was going to do everything in her power to do just that. Maybe this was her true calling in life. And hadn’t Madame Butterfly told her she had a gift?
Sophie flipped through her guidebook while waiting for Ida to locate Thomas’s binder. Mavis ran to the kitchen to check on Coco. Toots reclined in her chair, looking as relaxed as a cat sunning herself in the window on a warm day.
“Here it is.” Worn, aged from years of use, the leather-bound binder still held several sheets of legal paper. Once yellow, these had whitened with age, the paper now brittle and delicate.
“Is everyone ready to get started?” Sophie looked at Ida, then at Mavis, and lastly at Toots as they returned to the séance room. All three nodded in the affirmative.
“We need to hold hands. Ida, you just hold Mavis’s hand and keep the pencil in your right hand. When we are finished with our protection prayer, start scribbling in circles and don’t look at the pad no matter what happens,” Sophie instructed.
Ida reached for Mavis with her left hand while holding the pencil in her right hand. Sophie reached for Toots’s left hand, while Toots linked her right hand with Mavis’s left hand. Once they were in position, Sophie began her prayer.
“To our highest power, we ask for your protection from benevolent spirits, and ask St. Michael the Archangel to watch over us and protect us from malevolent spirits who might want to inflict harm upon us. We are here to summon the spirit of Thomas McGullicutty.” Sophie bowed her head as she spoke.
“Thomas, we received your message, and we know your death is suspicious. We are here tonight to find out what caused your early exit from this earthly realm and sent you into the afterlife before your time.” Sophie began to chant in a whisper, “Please help us help you. Please help us help you.”
The others caught on quickly and began to chant. “Please help us help you.” They repeated this several times. Ida’s hand poised on the paper, she began to scribble, her eyes closed.
“Thomas, if you have a message for us, please come forward,” Sophie said in a soft voice. So out of character was her behavior that Toots opened her eyes just to make sure it was really Sophie speaking in such soft, melodic tones. It was.
Sophie continued to request that Thomas make an appearance. “You’ve appeared to us before. You must have a reason now. You can reveal the cause of your death. Tell us now so we may be able to find justice for you and you can have peace.”
Toots peeked at Sophie again. She was into this. Big-time. And it was scary. Big-time.
“Oh my gosh!” Ida cried, scaring them all. “I feel like . . . like someone has plugged me into an electrical outlet!”
In a low, almost seductive tone, Sophie said, “Focus, Ida. Focus on Thomas. Keep your mind open.”
Ida nodded. “I feel some type of supernatural energy rushing through me.” Continuing to keep her eyes closed, she scribbled in circles.
“Continue to think about Thomas,” Sophie encouraged.
Ida’s hand went wild across the paper. She was writing so fast, Sophie was afraid she might be pretending just for show. Then she saw the terror on her friend’s face and realized that not only was Ida afraid, but she no longer had control of her hand. That was beyond anything she’d expected.
Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped at least twenty degrees. Someone not of this world was definitely in the room with them. Sophie opened her eyes and scanned the room. Though she couldn’t actually see anything, she could feel a spirit. It was an unhappy spirit.
Ida suddenly began to write in a precise motion. Left to right. Left to right. Sophie peered at the paper. The words It’s Thomas were slashed across the page at least a dozen times, if not more. She took a deep breath. This is truly serious, she thought. Okay, I can do this.
“Thomas, thank you for making yourself known. We know your death was unexpected. Is there something you want to tell Ida?” Sophie paused, waiting for a response.
Ida’s writing slowed; then suddenly she began to write so fast, the sharp edge of the pencil tore the page. Not wanting to lose a word, Sophie quickly slipped a fresh sheet of paper in place of the tattered one.
In a quick fluid motion Ida started writing again. My Daughter. My Daughter. My Daughter. Over and over, Ida continued to write these words.
“Thomas, do you know who poisoned you?” Sophie asked. She peered at the sheet of paper. Ida was still writing the words My Daughter. My Daughter. My Daughter.
Quietly, so low they could barely hear her, Ida said, “I can feel the energy leaving my body. Ask. Him. Who. Killed. Him.” Ida spoke each word as though it were painful, as if she were struggling to speak.
Sophie caught Toots’s attention. She mouthed, “We need to stop.”
Toots nodded in agreement.
“Thomas, you may leave now. We have your message. We will speak to you again.” She almost said, “We come in peace,” but decided this was too serious for her offbeat humor.
Ida’s hand went limp, as though the bone had simply liquefied. The pencil fell out of her grasp, rolling to the floor.
Mavis gasped, jumping out of her chair and knocking over the candle in front of her. Ida went completely limp, falling back into the chair’s cushions. Toots ran around the table, hoping to catch Ida in case she started to fall. Sophie grabbed the papers Ida had written on before they were destroyed.
Tonight they’d opened a doorway.
Exactly where it would lead them, they had no clue.
Chapter 20
Bernice picked the perfect day to stay home. After Saturday night’s creep show, Toots didn’t want her there. She didn’t want to be responsible for causing her to have a heart attack.
They’d actually had to use smelling salts to bring Ida out
of whatever sort of trance she’d been in. She swore she had no memory of writing, no memory of passing out. Toots wasn’t sure if she believed her or not. What she was sure of was that there was nothing funny about it anymore. It was all too real.
Toots finished making the first pot of coffee, then stepped outside for a smoke. She and Sophie hadn’t been smoking nearly as much as they normally did, which was probably a good thing. Even though she liked to smoke, she knew it wasn’t healthy. At sixty-five, almost sixty-six, Toots figured quitting at this stage of the game would be nothing more than slow torture.
“What are you doing up so early?” Sophie asked.
Toots almost jumped out of her skin. “Damn you! Don’t you ever sneak up on me like that again. And for your information, I get up at five every day, sometimes earlier. I’m smoking.”
“Well don’t be stingy,” Sophie said.
Toots removed a cigarette from the package and lit it with the tip of her own. She passed the cigarette to Sophie.
For once, they were quiet, each lost in her own thoughts. The previous night still lingered in the early morning air. It was as if Thomas were still lurking around, just waiting for their next move.
They sat that way for a few minutes longer; then Toots stood and stretched. “I’m going inside. The coffee is ready.”
Sophie followed her back to the kitchen. “Pour me a cup, too. Add extra sugar. I need a spurt of energy.”
Toots dumped the contents of the sugar bowl into Sophie’s cup, thinking it would serve her right for sneaking up on her. She carried both cups to the table. “You think Ida will be okay?” Toots asked. “She really gave me a scare last night.”
“Me too. I think that physically, she’s fine. I don’t know if this will have a residual effect on her mental status. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to send her back into the land of germs.”
“I really believe Ida is truly over that now. What do you make of the writing?” There. She’d said what had been bothering her all night. It wasn’t the fact that a spirit had entered her house; she could live with that. It was the fact that Thomas’s ghost, or whatever the heck it was, had said, “My daughter. My daughter. My daughter.”
Sophie took a deep breath. “I think Thomas went to the grave with a lot of secrets. I feel sorry for Ida, but don’t you dare tell her I said that, or I will kick your saggy butt.”
“You won’t have to keep that promise,” Ida said as she entered the kitchen. Normally, she wasn’t an early riser, so both Sophie and Toots were surprised to see her up already. “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me, either. So there.” Ida poured herself a cup of coffee and joined them at the table. “Mavis says she’ll be down later. She’s making arrangements for a small factory to produce her mourning clothes. She’s really cornered the market. I bet Mavis is going to end up being a rich old woman just like we are.”
“I can’t believe you actually referred to yourself as an old woman,” Sophie said.
“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think like an old woman.”
“None of us do,” Toots said.
“You need to quit avoiding the subject. I think we need to talk about what happened last night,” Sophie said.
“I don’t like you when you’re serious,” Ida said.
“Me either, but I really want to discuss what happened last night. This isn’t some silly prank, Ida. This is for real. You want to see those papers you scribbled? I have them right here.” Sophie got up and walked over to the counter, where she’d left them before joining Toots for a smoke out on the porch. She placed them on the table, in front of Ida.
Hesitantly, Ida reached for the papers. She scanned them, then shoved them across the table. “It doesn’t make sense. We never had a daughter.”
Sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow on the polished wood floors. The scattered red and green throw rugs were faded, their color dull from too many washings. The red cabinets needed a new coat of varnish, too.
Toots got up to refill their cups. “Anyone want a bowl of Froot Loops?”
Ida and Sophie declined her offer.
Toots removed a large box from the pantry, took the milk out of the refrigerator, then grabbed a bowl and spoon, bringing them to the table. “Don’t watch me eat. It makes me nervous.”
“Whatever,” Sophie remarked before directing her attention back to Ida. “I really think this is something we need to look into. You said Thomas died from eating tainted meat. Did the authorities ever check the source where the meat came from?”
“Of course they did. It was that nasty butcher shop where they washed old chicken and repacked ground meat.”
“Who did your grocery shopping?” Toots asked.
“What is this? The Spanish Inquisition? I bought groceries. Sometimes. I had a housekeeper, Lucy. She would go to the market now and then. We dined out most of the time. With Thomas’s work, it was a requirement. The police asked me all these questions. They were satisfied with the answers. As horrid as it sounds, I had an autopsy done on Thomas. His intestines were full of that E. coli bacteria. He’d been sick for about a week. He’d just returned from a business trip. I can’t remember where, but at first he thought he had the flu. Then he remembered he’d eaten that steak right before going away on his last business trip. Why would anyone want to do away with Thomas? He was a bit dull, but he was a very good husband and an excellent provider. Thomas didn’t have a lot of friends, at least none that I know of, but he was very well respected in the medical community. You’re making too much of this.”
Sophie shook her head. “Remember, you’re the one that wanted to do this. You’re the one who about jumped out of her skin when you saw those words dripping on your bathroom mirror. You’re the one who asked me if I would try and make contact with Thomas. I did, and now you act like it’s nothing. Well, it is something, and you need to acknowledge that.”
“In fifty years of friendship, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk that long without cussing or making fun of someone. I am sure this is a new side of you. And, like Ida, I’m not sure I like you this way,” Toots said.
“I second that.”
“Joke around all you want. What if something really did happen to Thomas? Do you want that on your conscience? I know if it were my husband, I would want to know.”
“And what if it did? What are we supposed to do about it now? I don’t know if I can stand an investigation of this sort.”
Toots wasn’t going to say it, so Sophie figured it was up to her. “What do you think those words my daughter, my daughter, my daughter meant? Do you think Thomas was giving you a message? Is it possible he has a daughter?” There. It was out in the open. Sophie wouldn’t be the least surprised if Thomas had left a daughter somewhere along the way. Many times, she and Toots had had their doubts about Thomas’s fidelity.
Ida looked as though she had been slapped in the face. “Don’t you think that if Thomas had a daughter, I would know? I certainly don’t remember giving birth to a child. Don’t you think that is something I would remember?”
Sophie wanted to shake some sense into Ida. “I know that you never gave birth to a child, Ida. I’m not that stupid. Is it possible that Thomas could’ve had a child with another woman? Maybe when he was younger, before you met? Didn’t you have a whirlwind romance right out of college?”
“I was working as a photographer when I met Thomas. His company actually hired me to do freelance shots for some brochures they were printing. We hit it off right from the beginning and married a few months later. What’s the big deal? We were married for nearly forty years. Not many can say that these days.” Ida tossed her hands up in the air. “What is it you want me to say?”
“I don’t want you to say anything. I just want you to acknowledge what happened last night. I want you to accept there may be a possibility that Thomas does have a daughter out there somewhere.”
“Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say Thomas do
es have a daughter. What am I supposed to do about it? Welcome her into my home with open arms? Sing her a lullaby?”
“Don’t think I’m nosy by asking this question, but it needs to be asked. Just how many millions did Thomas leave you when he died?” Sophie asked.
Flustered, Ida answered, “I really don’t know. I would have to ask my banker. Certainly there is enough to live on for the rest of my life without worrying about my next meal. Why do you ask?”
“Because if Thomas does have a daughter out there somewhere, she might want to get her hands on Daddy’s pocketbook. Are you getting the picture now?”
The stricken look on Ida’s face was pitiful. It was clear that she’d never given any thought to the possibility of Thomas having been unfaithful.
Chapter 21
Toots placed a call to Abby as soon as Ida and Sophie went upstairs. Even though it was three in the morning in California, Abby picked up on the first ring.
“Hi, Mom. What are you doing calling me at this obscene hour? Did you and Sophie get into a fight?” Abby asked.
“I’ve been up for hours and knew you would be, too. Like mother like daughter. I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you. How is man’s best friend?”
“Chester is heartbroken. Ever since you whisked his woman away, he’s done nothing but pout.”
“I didn’t realize dogs pouted. I learn something new every day. Poor Chester. He and Coco were quite the couple. Have you been to the beach house to see Chris yet?”
“I was there the other night. He invited me for dinner. I brought Chester. We had a great run on the beach. I met his college buddy, Steve. Nice guy.”
Toots could hear the happiness in her daughter’s voice, and her heart swelled with pride. Abby was the best daughter a mother could ask for. She’d been easy from the beginning. Three hours in labor, she came into the world with a little cry. At two months, she slept through the night, and at nine months, she took her first step. Toots remembered every single milestone of her daughter’s life. Mothers were supposed to take note of that stuff.
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