by Jane Tesh
“Jerry, it’s nothing. You know how these rumors get started and grow.”
“But what if it’s real? It could be worth a lot of money.”
“This wasn’t what I had in mind when I said get a job.”
“You didn’t say I couldn’t be a mantis catcher.”
I sighed and drove to the Celosia Public Library. We found Joan in the back, knee deep in books. Torn and bulging cardboard boxes sat on the tables and floor. Slippery stacks of magazines, dusty rolls of posters and maps, and ancient sets of encyclopedias filled the corner.
Joan laughed as she pulled an old sneaker out of a box. “People forget what they have in these boxes. They see books on top and haul the boxes over here without checking.”
“Looks like someone cleaned out their attic,” I said.
“Stuff for our used book sale,” she said.
Jerry grinned. “Have we got a collection for you.”
“Really?” she said.
“Val’s bat books. You want them?”
“Sure. If we can’t use them in the library, we’ll put them in the sale. We usually make a lot of money.” She wiped her hands on her jeans. “You have good news, I hope.”
Jerry bumped into a stack of paperbacks and managed to catch them before they crashed. “Hope these weren’t in any sort of order.”
“Just set them on the floor.”
I helped Jerry find a space to put the paperbacks. “I haven’t tracked down any more books, Joan. I’d like to see the student films, the ones that won the Baker Scholarship. Can they be checked out?”
“Yes. Which ones?”
“The ones Josh Gaskins and Kirby Willet submitted.”
“All right. I’ll be just a moment.”
Jerry nudged me. “Who’s the dragon?”
His gaze indicated Bernice Coleman, who radiated hostility from her computer station. “That’s Bernice. She thinks I’m up to no good.”
“Wonder how she stands on the Mantis Man issue?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“Okay.”
He strolled over to the main desk.
Joan returned with two videotapes. “Here you are. They’ll need to be back in two days.”
“Looks like you could use some help with all this,” I said.
“Oh, we’ve got everything under control. Have you been to our sale before? It’s a really big deal. Everything’s under a dollar. We’ll have refreshments and prizes. Bernice makes wonderful cookies.”
I could see Jerry trying to engage the dour Bernice in conversation. “Does she?”
“Yes, I leave all the snack management to her.”
Bernice continued to give me daggerlike stares as Jerry and I left the library.
“What did you say to her?” I asked.
“I asked her if there were any books on Mantis Man. She said no.”
“That’s all?”
“She asked me if I were still living in the Eberlin house. I said yes. Then she glared at you. I believe she thinks we’re living in sin.”
He found this highly amusing. “Did you say anything else?”
“I asked if she’d heard about the Mantis Man movie, and she said that was complete nonsense.”
“Which one, Mantis Man or the movie?”
“I get the feeling Bernice sees the entire world as nonsense. Anyway, my polite manner and charming smile had no effect. Did you get the movies?”
I held up the tapes. “Double feature.”
***
We took the videotapes back to the house and set up camp in front of the giant screen TV. Jerry made some sandwiches and some popcorn and sat down on the living room sofa with the remote in hand. “I hope these movies are better than the last one we saw,” he said.
Gaskins’ movie was a predictable tale about a guy heading out to the big city for the first time. His luggage was stolen, he had to stay in a fleabag hotel, and he ran afoul of some pimps and hookers. Willet’s movie was quite different. The story was hard to follow, but at the same time, had a dreamy quality about it that made it intriguing. I think it was about a man finding his soul.
Jerry found both movies boring. “Doesn’t anyone want to do a really good car chase anymore?”
“If you were a judge, wouldn’t you give the prize to Willet?”
“I wouldn’t give it to either of them. I’d be down at the drive-in watching Jackie Chan kicking the hell out of fifty evil minions.”
I took a handful of popcorn. “But think about it. Here you have a typical coming of age tragedy versus something more original. I think Kirby Willet had real talent and was overlooked. That kind of thing tends to make one resentful.”
“Are you looking at me in that particular tone of voice? You ought to know about being overlooked.”
“But I don’t have that much real talent.”
Jerry almost upended the popcorn bowl. “Damn it, Mac, when are you going to get off that dead horse? You’re a very talented artist. Just because your mother doesn’t think so, you’re going to throw away that part of yourself? It doesn’t make sense.”
“About as much sense as you wandering around playing with the occult and never wanting to settle down.”
“I’m not playing with the occult. Don’t ever say that.”
“Is that what your parents were doing?”
He gave me a narrow-eyed stare for an uncomfortably long time. I knew he was thinking, what the hell?
“Okay,” I said. “When I took the hundred dollar bill to Warwick, I ran into Jake.”
“Jake’s not a reliable source.”
“He’s your brother’s best friend.”
“Des would argue with you about that.”
I held up both hands. “Jerry, please. Be straight with me. I said I would help you figure this out. What’s all this about blue flames?”
“It’s just some stupid story the Galaxy made up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. It bugs the heck out of Des because Jake believes the blue flames make Des a real ghost magnet.”
“Well, I wish you’d come back to the house and help me look for clues.”
“You’re perfectly capable of finding clues all by yourself.”
“The house is not at all scary. It looks terrific.”
I shouldn’t have said that. His look told me I’d made a serious slip.
“You went there, didn’t you? You talked with Tucker.”
“Yes, I did.”
I could tell by his expression he was torn between being annoyed and being curious. Curiosity won. “So did you find out anything?”
“I want to know more about the artist who painted the portrait of you and your brothers. I can’t help wondering why Harriet isn’t in the picture.”
“Maybe my parents wanted a separate picture of her.”
“Maybe. It just seems odd to me.”
“Okay. Who’s the artist and what does he remember after twenty years?”
“I’m still tracking him down. There’s going to be a problem, though.”
“He’s dead? Had a sex change? Moved to Borneo?”
“I don’t know a thing about him except his name. But there’s someone who can tell me more. Chance Baseford.”
Jerry sat back. “Oh, brother.”
“Think he’ll remember me?”
“Mac, you don’t have to do this.”
“It’s okay,” I said, despite the shudder I managed to repress. “I can handle it.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Thanks, but this is something I should do alone. If I don’t, I’ll never get over it. Besides, he doesn’t know I’ve started painting again. And I don’t care if he does.”
Just saying Baseford’s name conjured up his sneering face and the way he looked at my paintings with such disdain, as if I had no right to even exist. I’d been told Chance Baseford was a harsh critic, but I never believed he could make his remarks so personal.
“What do you expec
t from a beauty queen? Did you draw this with mascara? A waste of perfectly good makeup, if you ask me. Stick to the runway, girl. The art world doesn’t need another poser.”
His acid comments, combined with my mother’s “I told you so” look, had ruined my first and only art show. But, damn it, if Baseford had information that would solve the Fairweather mystery, I was going to get it from him. He could make all the stupid remarks he liked.
I must have looked fierce, because Jerry said, “I think you can take him, Mac.”
“Thank you.”
“He’s bound to be eighty years old by now.”
“He’s sixty and works for the Herald.”
The telephone rang.
Jerry answered. “Hello? Okay, okay, calm down. Tell me again.” He covered the receiver and whispered to me, “It’s Hayden.” Then he spoke into the phone. “It’s okay. We’ll be right there.” He hung up. His eyes were shining. “‘Curse of the Poltergeist.’ Let’s go get it.”
***
Hayden met us at the door of Georgia’s Books. “I have some news.”
I thought maybe he’d caught the poltergeist himself, or perhaps now there was more than one.
“What’s up?” Jerry asked.
Hayden’s eyes were wide with apprehension. “You know Georgia suspected Terrance and Clarence Yates of shoplifting.”
Georgia had told me she didn’t feel the Yates boys were a threat. “Did you catch them in the act?”
“They’ve been in the juvenile home for weeks. Do you know what that means?”
I knew where this line of reasoning was headed, but couldn’t resist saying, “Somebody else caught them?”
Hayden shook his head. “It means they haven’t been anywhere near the store. We definitely have a poltergeist.”
Jerry rolled up his sleeves. “And I’m going to get in touch with her.”
“Her? You think it’s a female spirit?”
“More than likely. Where’s the site of the latest activity?”
“The children’s section.”
He led Jerry to the children’s section. Jerry sat down on the floor, closed his eyes, and asked for quiet.
“Okay,” he said. “I’m getting a strong vibration here. You two let me alone for a while. I’ll straighten her out.”
Hayden lowered his voice as he followed me back to the counter. “Thank goodness Jerry has experience with this kind of thing. As much as I like working here, I can’t stay if there’s a vengeful spirit.”
“Maybe she’s a nice spirit,” I said. “Just a little playful.”
He wasn’t convinced. “If she’s a book lover, she wouldn’t throw them on the floor.”
Hayden was too nervous to sit down, so I hopped up on one of the stools behind the counter. “I want to apologize for not checking on your shoplifters.”
“That’s all right. As I said, the Yates boys aren’t the problem.” He glanced toward the children’s section. “I hope Jerry isn’t putting himself in danger.”
“That’s the last thing you have to worry about.” From my perch, I could see Jerry’s head. He was sitting very still. Probably gone to sleep, I thought. “How’s your writing coming along?”
Since I exposed Juliet Lovelace as the ghost haunting his house, Hayden had been able to concentrate on his poetry.
“I’ve finished twelve poems,” he said.
“That’s great.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Madeline.”
“Just don’t let this poltergeist thing disturb you. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
About that time, a weird howling came from somewhere over our heads. The sound was like a child’s angry cry.
Hayden turned white. “Oh, my God.”
Jerry stood up. I saw him frown. He hurried up the aisle until he was under one of the air conditioning vents. To Hayden’s horror and my amusement, a sudden shower of large insects fell on Jerry’s head. He spluttered and shook the bugs out of his hair.
“Yuck!” Seeing Hayden’s expression, he added, “It’s okay. They’re all dead.”
I laughed. “I think the poltergeist is trying to tell you something.”
“Yeah. ‘Bug off.’”
Hayden grasped the edge of the counter. “W-what are they?”
Jerry plucked more bugs from his hair. “I don’t know.”
“Are they—? Do they look like m-mantises?”
I picked one off the floor. “I’m not sure what they are.” I knew how this unexpected landslide of dried creatures appeared to Hayden, so I wasn’t surprised when he swallowed hard.
“It’s the curse.”
“Hayden,” I said, “it’s just some dead bugs. They tend to die and accumulate in vents.”
He gulped again. “We’ve never had a problem with bugs before.”
“Have you got a broom and a dust pan? Let’s get this cleaned up.”
He didn’t move. “Something made them fall. Something disturbed them.”
“This is an old building, right? The roof probably settled a little and tipped them out.”
“Or it’s the poltergeist playing another joke,” Jerry said.
I gave him one of my fiercest looks. He grinned.
“We should never have started anything about the Mantis Man,” Hayden said. “Those kinds of things should be left alone.”
Jerry brought one of the bugs to the counter. “This isn’t a mantis. I think it’s a katydid.”
Hayden backed away. “Just get them out of here.”
I found the broom and dust pan in the closet. I swept up the bugs while Jerry cleaned off the top of the bookshelf. By then, Hayden was ready to lock the store and go home, but not before he asked Jerry to come back and try another exorcism.
“I’ll be here bright and early tomorrow morning,” Jerry said.
Once we were in the car, I said, “I’m going to smack you if you don’t stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Telling Hayden the store has a poltergeist.”
“Well, now I’m pretty sure it does.”
“A shower of dead bugs doesn’t mean the store’s haunted.”
“Looked spooky to me, all the little ghostly remains.” He held up one of the dead insects. “Doesn’t this look like a shed skin of some kind?”
Now I recognized the insects. “That’s a locust skin.”
“Those bugs that come out every twenty years?”
“Every seventeen years. Nothing mysterious about a bunch of old locust skins.”
“How do you explain that weird sound, then?”
“It was probably Locust Man.”
Jerry intoned in a horror movie voice, “Locust Man! Every seventeen years the terror beings anew!”
“That’s just as stupid as Mantis Man.”
“Yeah, why not Locust Man, or Mosquito Man?”
“Or Weevilman.”
“No, I’ve got it: Chigger Man! Horror that really gets under your skin.”
“Or Gnatman.”
“Gnatman!” Jerry was delighted. I had to wait until he finished singing the “Batman” theme song before I could get his attention.
“Just please stop feeding Hayden’s worst fantasies. The poor guy’s going to have another nervous breakdown.”
“Oh, he’ll be okay. Shana will take care of him.” He rolled down the window and tossed the locust skin out. “She’s great, you know? Not only is she fantastic looking, she supports him in everything he does. That’s what marriage is all about.”
Good grief, where was he going with this conversation? “They seem to have a pretty good marriage.”
“Here’s Hayden, working at a stressful job in Parkland that almost kills him, so he leaves the company where he was making this huge salary, and does she nag him to go back? Does she complain because there isn’t enough money? Does she give up on him? No, she finds Celosia, a nice little town where he can do what he really loves doing.”
Before I could say that Shana wasn’t the only one
who did things like this, he said, “I know we have a deal, Mac. I’ll find something.”
I wasn’t going to be the one who nagged him into something he didn’t want to do. “I’m going to start painting again, anyway. I won’t hold you to your part of the bargain.”
“No, I’ll find something.”
“What about the B&B?”
“I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
He was looking at me with such warmth, I wondered if I dared hope for something more. Was he going to get all serious again? Was he going to say let’s explore another facet of our relationship? Or let’s go home and go upstairs?
But what he said was, “So what do you say we go find Mantis Man?”
So we went to find Mantis Man.
***
The covered bridge on a summer evening could have been a romantic spot, had Jerry not been shouting “Ya-ha!” and leaping into the bushes. Fireflies sparkled in the darkening woods. The river gurgled over smooth white stones. Jerry smacked at harmless grasshoppers.
I looked at my watch. “I’m giving Mantis Man fifteen more minutes.”
“Is it midnight?”
“Almost.”
He came and sat by me on the bench next to the river. We’d brought flashlights, but out here under the moon, we didn’t need them.
“Nice view, huh?” Jerry said.
His face was half in shadow, his clear eyes like silver. I could see the portrait already: Jerry By Moonlight. It would be my masterpiece.
Shana was right. This was too much. I couldn’t go on like this.
“Jerry.”
He turned to me, his expression expectant.
“A few times before, there’s been something you wanted to tell me.”
“Oh, yes.”
My heart was pounding so hard I knew he could hear it. “This might be a good time.”
He took a deep breath. “Yes, it is.”
I waited, hardly able to breathe, myself. I knew whatever he was going to say would forever alter our friendship, our future.
“Mac,” he began. Then he turned his head. “Hang on. Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“That rustling sound.”
“It’s just the wind.”
He stood up. “It’s the Mantis.”
“You know what kind of sound a giant mantis makes?” A giant mantis with a damned crummy sense of timing, I wanted to add.
