by Kathi Daley
We’d called ahead to let Pastor Branderman know we planned to come by again. He’d gone home early because of the rain but said we were welcome to come to his house to pick up the keys to the church and the basement if we promised to lock up and return them when we were finished. Jack agreed, so we headed there.
“What if November 12, 1924, is just a placeholder of some sort? What if it isn’t an actual date of death after all?” I asked.
Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure exactly. The date is close to the end of the range of dates in the book. What if on November 12, someone went through the book and found a bunch of entries that had been overlooked but wanted to close out the log by making sure there was an entry for everyone who had died? Maybe they didn’t want to take the time to research the actual death dates, so they entered that date to indicate each person had died before the ledger’s end date.”
Jack raised a brow. “I guess that’s possible. I wonder how we can check.”
“We’d need to verify the actual date of death for one or more of the people whose date of death is November 12, 1924, in the ledger. If we can find proof that a couple of them at least died on different dates, my placeholder theory begins to make sense.”
“Okay. We’ll make a list of names and try to track them down tomorrow.”
We chatted with Pastor Branderman for a few minutes when we arrived at his house, then drove to the church. With dinner guests expected and our stop at the market, we were on a tight schedule, and I almost suggested we leave the visit to the church for the following day. But Jack wanted to make the list of people who had died on November 12, 1924, according to the ledger, and I wanted to look for a reference to SIRP. The more I thought about it, the more I agreed with Jack; the acronym did sound familiar.
“Okay, one hour and we’re out of here,” I said as we let ourselves in. “We can always come back another time if we still haven’t found what we’re looking for.”
“All right,” Jack said. “I’m going to grab the ledger I was looking at yesterday and start making a list of the people with a date of death of November 12, 1924.”
“I’ll go back through the files I was looking at yesterday. I know I saw SIRP somewhere.”
Less than a minute later, I heard Jack swear.
“What is it?” I asked.
Jack handed me the ledger. “Look at the third name down on this page.”
“Frederick Bowlington. Born January 31, 1875, and moved to the island, or at least the area this ledger covers, on April 12, 1895.” I looked up at Jack. “Next to his name it says SIRP.”
Jack nodded. “There’s more. Look at the date of death.”
“November 12, 1924.”
******
One of the things I loved most about spaghetti was the smell of the sauce while it simmered. Back at the resort, Clara helped me make it, while Jack took Kizzy out for a romp and Garrett and George sat at the kitchen table, talking. Meg was coming over when the museum closed for the day, and Vikki had promised to be here as soon as she’d finished the chapter she was working on for her editor. Rick would join us if he could, but he did have two murders to solve, so he couldn’t promise anything.
“I love the little display you made for the kitchen table,” I said to Clara, who had arranged flowers, brightly colored leaves, and gourds from the farmers market. “I might do something similar for the dining table.”
“I wanted to contribute,” Clara answered. “Jack said he planned to bring over big pumpkins to carve for the front porch. I thought we could put one on the fireplace mantel as well.”
“Speaking of Jack, I wanted to let you know we’re entering into an experiment over the next two weeks. I’m going to be staying at his place, although I still plan to host the Halloween dinner here, and I’m sure I’ll be popping in for coffee.”
“Jack mentioned the cohabitation agreement you’ve come up with. Seems sort of formal and a bit silly to have to, the way you’ve been spending the night over there all the time anyway, but I support whatever the two of you want to do.”
I guess it was sort of silly. I was almost forty years old. You’d think I’d have outgrown silly, but apparently, I hadn’t. “If you or Garrett need anything, you just call. I’ll be right down the path and can be here in less than a minute if need be.”
“We’ll be fine,” Clara assured me. “I guess you’ve noticed Garrett and I have been spending a lot of time together since he moved back into the house.”
“I had noticed.”
Clara began chopping olives. “I think he might be the soul mate I foresaw when I first came here. We’ve talked about that—on more than one occasion, actually—and he says he feels the same way. At first, he wasn’t open to the idea of a relationship. He said he didn’t want me to be stuck with someone in a wheelchair. Not that I minded the chair, but he seemed to. But time passed, and he started doing better, and I think it might be time for us to take our relationship to the next level. I guess the only question is how you feel about us being together.”
I smiled and placed my hand on her arm. “I feel fine about it. In fact, I’m better than fine. The two of you always seem so happy when you’re together.”
Clara reached for the garlic. “Okay, then. Now that we have that settled, let’s gather some greens for the salad.”
Maybe Jack was on to something when he asked me to move in with him. Given the way things were with Garrett and Clara, I was beginning to feel like a third wheel in the house. Oh, I knew I’d always be welcome here, as all the writers were, but it would be nice to give Garrett and Clara their space for at least part of the time. This was something I’d definitely have to think about.
Everyone had arrived by the time Clara and I had dinner ready. We all served ourselves, then gathered around the large dining table. One of the things I loved most about our group was when we ate dinner together, sharing the things that had happened during the day.
“Did you find what you were looking for in the church?” Rick asked.
“Yes,” Jack replied, “at least part of it. If you remember, I mentioned there were a lot of entries where November 12, 1924, was recorded as the date of death. We went back to look and realized that next to the name of everyone who’d died on that date were the letters SIRP.”
“Really?” Rick sounded amazed by that bit of information. “Any idea what SIRP stands for?”
Jack shook his head. “Unfortunately, we couldn’t find a key or explanation. My best guess is that Bosley stumbled onto the dates and designation and researched it further. We’re hoping whatever he sent to his friend Tom will help us figure out what he was on to.”
“I plan to spend time on it later this evening,” George said in response.
“I wonder if it would do any good to pick out a few names to research independently,” Meg said. “If we started with the individual, then looked for birth, death, and whatever other records we could find, we’d at least be building a profile. If we could do that with several people, we might stumble over a link of some sort to SIRP.”
“Do you think there are records going back that far?” Vikki asked.
“Sure,” Meg answered. “Things like births, deaths, marriages, and such have been kept by churches for centuries. In terms of government records, not as long, but I’m sure we can find something if we look hard enough.”
“I’ll help you look if you show me what to do.”
“Thank you, Vikki,” Meg said. “I’d welcome the help.”
“So, do you have news on either murder?” I asked Rick.
“I’ve continued to narrow down the suspect list, mainly by speaking to people and gathering alibis. So far, no one left on the list stands out over anyone else, so we’ll just have to keep chipping away at it. I have the alleged arsonist to worry about as well.”
“You’re a busy man, with two murders and three fires to investigate,” I said.
“Which is why I’m glad I c
an count on you to help out. It seems we all have things we’re going to take responsibility for looking in to. Maybe we should meet here again tomorrow night,” Rick suggested. “I’ll bring pizza so no one has to cook.”
We made sure everyone understood their assignments before we moved on to pie and coffee. This gave me a chance to bring up the Halloween dinner, which everyone seemed to be in to. I wanted to ask Gertie and her guy friend, Quinten, too, and even suggested that Rick might try enlisting him if he needed additional help. Quinten was not only a retired coroner, with a lot more experience investigating suspicious and violent deaths than any of us, he was ex-military, and he was a really good guy to boot.
I was pretty tired by the time the gathering wound down, so instead of packing clothes for two weeks, I just did it for one night. I’d get the remainder of my things the following day, when I was here to make a list of what I’d need to finish decorating the house.
“You have a minute?” Vikki poked her head in the door of my bedroom.
“Sure. Come on in. I’m just grabbing some clothes to take to Jack’s.”
“Clara told me about the cohabitation experiment. I want you to know I’m pulling for a successful trial.”
I grinned. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure about it when Jack first asked me to move in with him, thus the trial, but the more I think about it, the more certain I am.”
“I’m really happy for you.”
I paused and glanced at Vikki, who looked as if she had more on her mind than my tryout with Jack. “Something else you want to talk about?” I asked.
“I noticed the two guys from New Jersey in the two-bedroom cabin over by the marsh have left.”
I nodded. “That’s right. They left last week.”
“I’d like to move over to that cabin if you haven’t promised it to anyone.”
I leaned a hip against the bedpost. “Okay. It isn’t promised. Is the one-bedroom turning out to be too small?”
“Rick and I have been talking about moving in together. I want him to move out here, but he has a two-bedroom in town, and he needs space for a home office. I figured if one of the two-bedroom cabins was open, that would take away his argument for my moving into his place.”
“Wow. Of course it’s yours if you want it.” I took a deep breath. “Wow again. This is huge.”
“You seem more surprised by this than you were to have Jack ask you to move in with him.”
“I guess I am. I shouldn’t be, though. You never used to be the sort to want to settle down, but, of course, things have changed since Rick.” I crossed the room and hugged Vikki. “I’m very happy for you both. I mean it. I think this is great. And I’ll cancel the ad I was going to run next week for the two-bedroom. As far as I’m concerned, it’s yours.”
“Thanks, Jill. I’m not sure how this will work out, but I’m excited to try. I know Rick would like for us to get married. He’s brought it up several times. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but the truth is, time is running out. Rick would like to have children, and I’m beginning to realize I’d like it too. I’m looking at forty just around the corner, so if I want to have a family, it has to be now. Even with the lure of a baby, though, I find I’m hesitant. So, while it isn’t as formally stated as what you and Jack have arranged, maybe moving in together is just the experiment Rick and I need to bring us to the point where any doubts we have are put to rest.”
Chapter 5
Friday, October 26
I loved the way Gull Island went all-out for pretty much every holiday and special event. As a child, growing up in the shadow of my famous mother, I was never really afforded the opportunity to do kid stuff like carnivals, haunted houses, or trick-or-treating. Instead, I was dragged along to cocktail parties and boring dinner parties, where I would spend most of the evening trying to stay out of the way of the adults who’d come out to celebrate whatever trendy thing was making the rounds on the Hollywood social scene.
After I left home, I’d been so focused on building my career that I mostly let things like holidays and the hoopla associated with them go over and around me without paying much attention. Now, living on Gull Island and becoming part of both a family and a community for what felt like the first time, I found I rather liked the hoopla that came with coming together to celebrate whatever was cued up as the special event for each month’s fund-raiser.
“Looks like a good turnout,” Jack said as a pair of young boys dressed as Jedi stormtroopers plowed into us.
“The place is packed,” I agreed. “Thankfully, the weather has cooperated.”
Jack took my hand as he led me through the throngs of festival visitors around the wharf, where the haunted house and several food vendors had been set up.
“Did Brooke say where we should check in?” Jack asked.
“No, but it looks like there are a few other volunteers mingling around the ticket booth. Let’s start there.”
I took a deep breath as we walked along the wooden planks. The scent of kettle corn mingled with the charcoal smoke generated by the hot-dog vendor. My personal favorite festival snack was the garlic fries, but the tables filled with gooey caramel and bright-red candy apples had my mouth watering as well.
“Is Brooke around?” I asked the woman who was manning the ticket booth.
“She’s inside. There’s a door around the side for volunteers.”
I looked toward the large building, which had been decorated to look like Dracula’s castle. That wouldn’t open for another half hour, yet already the line extended beyond the edge of the wharf and into the street. I had a feeling this was going to be a busy and profitable night.
Jack and I chatted with the woman about the crowds and nice weather for a few minutes, then headed to the side door. Inside, we found Brooke holding a clipboard in one hand and a cell phone in the other. She was talking on the phone but motioned for us to wait.
The windows had all been blacked out, so even with dim overhead lights the place was dark.
“Thank you both for coming,” Brooke said, swiping a strand of blond hair away from her face. “I’ve had two of my actors call in sick.” Brooke looked at Jack. “I don’t suppose you’d mind playing a zombie?”
“Whatever you need me to do.”
“Great.” Brooke smiled. “Just follow that hallway to the last door on the left. My makeup crew will get you ready, then tell you what to do.”
Jack gave me a quick kiss and promised to find me later.
Brooke turned her attention to me. “Jill, I need you on crowd control. There are four very distinct stages to this experience. Stage one is the outdoor part, which includes the tour of the haunted graveyard. Guests are then invited into the large room at the front of the building, where one of our actors tells the tale of the haunted castle and the people who once lived here. Once the intro is over, the interior doors open and the guests are led to the hallway where the real tour begins. That’s stage three. After they make their way through the haunted hallways, they come out at the back of the building. There, they find the final stage, which includes a dark walk along the water, where we’ve set up lights and different optical illusions.”
“Sounds like a huge undertaking,” I commented.
“Oh, it was a bear to set up, but I think it’s going to be awesome. I may end up moving you at some point, but for now I need you to work the entry room. You’ll open the door that divides the exterior from the story room. You can fit up to a maximum of thirty people in that room. Once they’ve all filed in, you need to close the door, which is equipped with a one-way lock, so no one can sneak in. The narrator will come in and tell the tale, then you open the back door leading into the haunted hallway. As soon as everyone is out of the room, you close the back door, then go to the front one to let in the next group.”
“Seems pretty straightforward.”
“It is. We have it set up a lot like the Haunted Mansion at Walt Disney World. I have to warn you, though, there will be those who’ll try to sh
ove their way in even after the room is full. That’s where you’ll have to be assertive and make them wait. Thirty is the max. If you have twenty-nine and the next guests are a group of two, they wait.”
“Got it.”
“Good luck, and if you have any real problems, call me and I’ll send backup.”
“Don’t worry. I should be fine,” I said.
“Great.” Brooke squeezed my arm. “And thanks again.”
She hurried off to deal with something else within the interior of the large building, and I headed to the entry room with the two doors she’d described. I opened the room leading from the story room into the haunted hallway, which was just as I expected. Then I opened the door separating the front room from the line and was almost trampled to death.
“Wait,” I yelled as I put my body between the room and the line. “We aren’t open for another twenty minutes. I was just checking access.”
There was a lot of grumbling, but the few people who had pushed past me went back out to the line to wait for the clock to work its way around to five.
“Yikes,” I said when I had the room to myself again. I wondered if I shouldn’t have borrowed a helmet and pads from the football coach at the high school. The crowd was terrifying.
Fortunately, once the event opened and the line started to move, things calmed down. It must have been interesting to walk through the graveyard, which had given those toward the front of the line something to keep them busy while they waited for the door to the story room to open. After two hours, another volunteer came by to trade with me: She’d take over as door monitor if I wanted to go back to the ticket booth. That sounded fine with me. The ticket booth was outside, near the water. After two hours of listening to the same three-minute story, I was ready for some fresh air and a change of scenery.
“I’m here to relieve you,” I said to the woman who was manning the booth.
