by Catie Rhodes
“You can’t stop me from leaving with him this summer. I’ll be eighteen.” Heat flooded through my body.
“No, I can’t. But I’d be willing to bet you’ll be back in a few years, broke. Maybe with a baby on your hip.” She sat up straight and leaned forward. “Chase’ll be playing nightclubs. Maybe. Or laid up watching TV while you work. You’re not scary enough to give him the push he needs to get famous. You love him too much.”
“You’re wrong. Everything Chase does is focused on becoming a better musician.” My heart thudded hard in my chest. “I’m going to help him.”
Memaw shrugged. “Sometimes I wish the two of you had never noticed each other.”
I stood, shoving my chair back with my knees, and turned to go to my room.
“Not yet.” Memaw stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “You’re grounded. You wash the dishes every night. And sweep the floor when you’re done.”
An hour later, I lay in my bed so mad I could barely be still. Memaw insisted on lights out right after supper. No TV. No reading. No anything I might enjoy. Just off to school, where I might be attacked and would definitely be shat upon in some way. Then back home to her glares and sarcastic barbs. Rinse. Repeat.
Times like this, I wished I could call my mother. But Barbara didn’t have time for me. She’d divorced her hunky construction worker husband and didn’t even bother to send me her forwarding address. Her ex said she might be in Hawaii. If I somehow found her and called, she’d be friendly but dismissive. This was it for me. Memaw and Chase.
Not for the first time, I wished my father hadn’t been murdered. My chest tightened and began to ache. I tried to remember Daddy’s voice or anything about him and couldn’t. The only memory I could conjure was from a framed picture right outside in the hallway. A tear streaked out the corner of my eye, across my temple, and soaked into my pillow.
I woke to early morning sunlight streaming through the window and reached for the clock radio on my bedside table. Wait a minute. It’s Saturday. I made a point to turn off my alarm last night.
The sound came again. A guitar strum. Then another. They sounded like they were coming from right outside my window. I got out of bed to find Chase standing in our yard, his guitar strapped to his chest. My bedroom door opened.
“You got company.” Memaw’s face puckered into the scowl she’d taken to wearing every time the topic of Chase Fischer came up.
Chase strummed a couple more times, changing notes quickly. I turned away from Memaw and walked to the window. Chase smiled when he saw me. His picking got more purposeful, and he took a couple of deep breaths. The first words to the song rang out over our yard. It was all about a girl with steel both in her eyes and in the toes of her boots and how she walked her own road, often alone, and did it bravely.
I sucked in a breath and held it. My cheeks tingled and heated. He’d written this about me, for me. A love letter from the only person in the world who thought I was worth a shit. The last notes of the song rang out and faded, their vibration humming in me long after.
“Go on and tell him he can come in,” Memaw said behind me. The slap of her house shoes retreated down the hall, and her bedroom door closed.
I threw on my clothes from the day before, ran through the house, and rushed out the front door. Chase glanced up from packing up his guitar in time to catch me in midair. I hugged him tight.
“I’ll never forget that,” I whispered in his ear.
“Forget it.” He set me on the ground. “I’ll write a dozen more. Better ones. That one wasn’t good enough for you.”
“I thought it was pretty great,” Memaw said from the porch. “No man ever wrote me a song. Peri Jean’s grandfather bought me my first car. That’s about as romantic as he got.” She laughed.
I slowly turned to face her, unable to believe the same woman who said such awful things the night before would come out here and act as though we were all good buddies.
“Miss Leticia, I’d like to talk to you in private.” Chase stood as straight as he could, but I saw the pure horror writhing behind his eyes.
“All right, then.” Memaw walked over to Chase, and the two of them strolled out of the fenced yard and toward Chase’s Tahoe, their heads moving in conversation. Chase shoved his guitar case in the vehicle and took out a white doughnut box and a gallon of milk. He reached inside again, pulled out a bouquet of colorful flowers, and handed them to Memaw. She almost smiled. Chase talked, his lips moving fast. Memaw nodded, grim-faced, at whatever he told her. She said something to Chase and shook her finger for emphasis. He nodded. She patted him on the shoulder and motioned him to come with her.
“Chase brought us doughnuts and milk for breakfast.” Memaw carried her flowers cradled across her chest. “The two of you can go to the prom one week from now. And you can ride with him to Louisiana today. But no monkey business.” She fixed me with a glare and then moved it to Chase. We both nodded eagerly.
* * *
As soon as we left Memaw’s, Chase turned to me and said, “I promised Tub a ride.”
Disappointment stabbed at me, inviting me to get irritated and ruin this chance to be with my boyfriend. I swallowed it. Tasted like puke.
“How’d it go with Felicia and her mother last night?” I figured we might as well cover all the sour subjects at once.
“Good. Really good.” Chase’s face lit up. “Felicia’s mom likes old country, so I played her two George Jones songs. Then I played a Waylon Jennings song…”
I quit listening as Chase described what must have been a couple of hours of him playing music for my worst enemy and her weird, overbearing mother.
“Did they call her uncle or cousin or whoever it is?” I asked when Chase stopped in front of Bullfrog’s Billiards to pick up Tubby Tubman. Our classmate had a black eye. He got into the Tahoe without speaking and sat in the backseat with his head down.
“They didn’t call him last night, but they’re going to.” Chase nodded. “Soon. Real soon.”
I itched to say I bet Felicia didn’t follow through, but something in Chase’s face killed my words. Instead, I said, “I bet she will.”
The woman who used to be known as Alice Leeland lived right across the Louisiana border, only an hour’s drive from Gaslight City. Chase followed the directions Rainey had printed from the computer to a mobile home park right off Louisiana state highway 1. Unit number thirty-nine was all the way at the back of the park. We cruised through the narrow, one-lane, asphalt roads snaking through the park at five miles per hour. The place buzzed with activity, but all the people running around had gray hair. Some of them raced around on golf carts. Others stood around a small lake holding fishing rods. Still more hung out in groups, grinning and waving as we passed.
“This is old-people-ville.” Chase parked behind Rainey’s Cadillac in the gravel driveway.
I giggled, thrilled to be with him for a change. “At least the place isn’t run down, and they seem friendly.”
“That’s what you think. Pretty soon, they’ll surround us hands reaching out, and hollering ‘youth, we like to eat youth.’” Chase hooked his hands into claws and spoke in a hoarse croak.
Tubby laughed. I ignored him, but Chase turned around and grinned. Rainey got out of her Cadillac and began gathering her equipment. Felicia bounded out of the passenger seat and ran over to the Tahoe, straight to Chase’s window. The idiot opened the door, and she leaned in so far she might as well have climbed in his lap.
“Mom loved your music. She said we have to call cousin Stu and tell him about you.”
“That right?” Chase tapped out a soft drumbeat on the steering wheel. “I’d sure be grateful if you did.”
Felicia practically did a little victory dance. I snorted. She glanced at me and stretched her ugly boot lips in a phony grin. “Chase had supper with us last night and played his guitar for Mom and me.”
“I know. He said you chew with your mouth open and pick your nose at the table.” I
crossed my eyes at her and mimed shoving food into my face.
“Peri Jean Mace, I did not.” Chase frowned at me. “That ain’t very Christian of you telling lies on me like that.”
I shrugged and got out of the Tahoe, going to stand behind Felicia so I could kick her in the ass if need be.
“Peri Jean, get the equipment out of the car.” Rainey glanced up and saw Tubby. “You too, Tubman. I’ll go let Alice—or whatever she wants to be called—know we’re here.”
At first I ignored her, still watching Felicia throw herself at my boyfriend. Tubby nudged me. I spun around to tell him not to touch me.
“Let it go.” He handed me one of the light stands and motioned me to follow him. “Nothing you can do. Not really.”
“That’s what you think.” I stomped along behind him.
“What? Beat her up? Get kicked out of school? Disappoint your grandmother?” He spoke to me out of the corner of his mouth, his voice lowered to nearly a whisper.
A spark of humiliation heated me from within. No. I couldn’t do that to Memaw, embarrass her and all. I could suck it up. I was so close to escaping Gaslight Independent School District forever. Eating a little more shit wouldn’t kill me. I stomped up the little cobblestone walk to the trailer’s deck.
“Long as he’s interested in what she’s got to say, nothing you do will make any difference.” He noticed me struggling with my load and opened the little gate on the deck for me. “Go on in.”
I did, puzzled by Tubby’s insight. This was the most time I’d spent with him since kindergarten where we shared a desk. Back then, he put crickets in my shoes during nap time. Now he wanted to give relationship advice?
Chase and Felicia joined us on the porch. Felicia sat on the swinging bench. Chase took both the lighting stand and Rainey’s briefcase out of my hands. I felt foolish just holding her notepad and pen.
The trailer’s front door opened. Rainey came out, followed by a plump, white-haired lady holding a fluffy white dog. The two matched, sort of.
The lady set the dog down on the porch. “Go do your business, Gidget.”
Gidget scampered out to the yard and squatted to pee, staring at her mistress the whole time. She was tiny. I’d seen bigger cats.
“Good girl, good girl.” The lady shuffled to the edge of the deck and held out her arms. The dog tossed its head and ran to her. I couldn’t help smiling. I liked dogs, all animals really, but Memaw said we were both too busy, away from home too much, to give one a good life. The elderly lady walked to the swinging bench and stared at Felicia until she huffed and got up.
“It’s good to meet all of you,” she said. “I used to be Alice Henderson. Went by Alice Leeland for a little while. Now folks call me Anise. For this interview, y’all are welcome to call me Alice.”
Each of us introduced ourselves. Alice’s gaze lingered the longest on Rainey. “Your Grandpa Wilton said this is a school project.”
Rainey nodded, never stopping her efforts to set up the equipment. I hustled around helping her, but Chase and Tubby went to pet the dog. Felicia stood near Chase.
“Can you tell me what you hope to prove or disprove with your investigation here?” Alice’s fingers played in Gidget’s abundant fur. Tubby and Chase tickled the little dog’s ears with the tips of their fingers. The dog closed her eyes, eating up all the love.
“This is a social sciences project.” Rainey turned to face Alice. “I’d like to hear anything you remember about the circumstances surrounding Chris Leeland’s disappearance, any theories you might have about what really happened.” She bit her lip and squinted her eyes. “The direction we’re trying to go is how a mystery like this affects people, the things they tell themselves to quell the fear it might happen to them.”
Alice nodded, her gaze distant. “I’ll think on it while you set up.”
We finished getting things ready. Rainey got a lawn chair and sat in front of Alice. The older woman raised her head and waited.
“Alice, I’m ready when you are.”
“I know your grandfather told you who Chris and I really were and how we ended up in Gaslight City. I’m going to talk as though that’s all understood.”
“That’s fine.” Rainey made a notation on her notebook.
“There were five of us girls, and we had a circuit through Texas, Arkansas, Oklahoma, and Louisiana. The farthest reaches of our circuit was the northeastern side of Oklahoma. Chris and I planned in advance he’d take the money there. That all went pretty smooth, and I met him at a motel in Tulsa. We planned to go to Mexico through Arizona.” She smirked. “Things started going wrong right away. You know how you hear about karma?” She seemed to expect an answer, so we all nodded. “It was like that. We walked in on a robbery in a café in Muskogee the very next morning. It went downhill from there. Got a flat tire outside Denison. Had to walk five miles to get it fixed. And it was summer.” She waved her hand in front of her face to let us know how hot they’d been. “A highway patrol stopped us other side of Denison, said we were speeding. Told us we could pay our fine right there, and that took about half our money. By the time we got to Gaslight City, the radiator had busted.” Alice paused, but not to let us ask questions. Her gaze was cloudy. The past had risen up and taken her in. “The guy at the filling station was all agog about a local feller who’d died in the cemetery.”
I raised my head from the camcorder.
Alice sensed my interest and turned to me. “You know who I’m talking about?”
I stared at her, unable to move, heart thudding in my chest. Memaw always said not to talk of the Mace Treasure, to pretend we didn’t know it existed. She’d lost too many people over it. Me getting involved could only bring more heartache.
“Her grandfather.” Tubby Tubman spoke from behind Rainey.
“Come on out where I can see you, son.” Alice said. “You can sit by me and pet Gidget some more. She loves it. Plus, you’re cute.”
Smiling, almost shy, Tubby came out from behind Rainey and sat next to Alice. She nodded at him to start.
“George Mace was Peri Jean’s grandfather. I don’t remember him at all, and neither does Peri Jean, but everybody says he was obsessed with finding the Mace Treasure.”
“And just so I remember right”—Alice kept her gaze on me—“the Mace Treasure was hidden back in the 1800s by some crazy guy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I swallowed hard.
“The crazy guy who hid the treasure is also related to Peri Jean.” Felicia giggled. “The whole Mace family’s nuts.”
Rainey stared at Felicia, her face expressionless, until the other girl squirmed.
Alice glanced between Felicia and me. “Soon as Chris heard about that treasure, it was over. He couldn’t quit asking the feller at the service station about it. Finally the guy told him there were rooms to rent at the Mace House, where the treasure had probably been hid all those years anyway. He didn’t have to tell Chris twice. Before another hour passed, we had rented that God-awful carriage house and moved in. I wish we had kept on driving.” She turned to Rainey. “You said you wanted me to tell you what I think happened to Chris. Do you still?”
“Yes, ma’am. Of course.”
“I think that damn carriage house got him. Ate him somehow.”
We sat in silence. Of all the things I’d expected Alice to say, this revelation didn’t even make the list. Rainey’s mouth opened and closed. She glanced at me, back at Alice, then back at me again.
Chase came out from behind his light. “You mind telling us what you mean by ‘ate him,’ ma’am?”
Alice showed Chase her crooked, tobacco-colored teeth. Maybe she thought he was cute, too. “There was something wrong with that place. Something evil in there. I didn’t like the carriage house from the first day, the first minute.” She paused, squinting at the past. “But you know what? Chris did. He was in love.”
“You know, rumor around town is the carriage house—the whole Mace House—is haunted.” Chase squa
tted in front of Alice so he wasn’t standing over her. “But people always talk like it’s Chris Leeland haunting it.”
“Maybe. But something else haunted it even back then.” Alice pulled her little dog closer. “The place just felt wrong.”
“Can you tell us about anything specific you experienced?” Rainey squared her shoulders and took the reins.
“There was a bar right downtown. Aunt Lillie’s, I think the name was. Chris went there every evening, drinking with others interested in the Mace Treasure. Didn’t take ’em long to find each other.” She shook her head. “One evening I got in the shower. While I was washing, I heard a door close and figured it was Chris coming in. Sure enough, I saw a shadowy figure through the frosted glass on the stall door. So I started yammering on about how we needed to get out of that place. Move on. Nobody ever answered me. I finished my shower and opened the door, and the shadow was just gone. I threw on my robe and went running around the little place, but I was alone.”
Goosebumps raised on my arms. From seeing ghosts myself, I knew they usually appeared as one person or another. Who had this one been? Reginald Mace, the crazy guy who hid the treasure?
“There was also the singing.” Alice’s voice slapped me back into reality.
The singing? She heard it too? I tensed my muscles in hopes of hiding any reaction. Had any of my classmates seen me jump? I glanced at them. They were all focused on Alice.
“Not just one voice either. It was many voices.” Alice’s gaze flitted around to each person in our group. “It reminded me of being in church, listening to a choir. Only the words…I couldn’t make them out.” She shivered. “Every night I woke up at exactly 3:20. I felt like somebody was in the room with us, watching us.”
“This is up your alley, Peri Jean. You and Miss Alice here have a lot in common.” Felicia squawked at her own humor. Nobody laughed with her. In fact, Alice narrowed her eyes at the younger girl. For one brief second, she looked like someone who’d gone a lot of rounds in the game of life, like she could eat Felicia’s ass easier than chomping down on a marshmallow.
