An Unhappy Medium

by Dawn Eastman

  Charla handed the microphone to the mayor and stepped off to the side with the Vaughn team.

  I wanted to follow them to hear what they would say but Vi and Sophie and then Mom and Dad stopped me before I had a chance to sneak away.

  “What’s going on?” Dad asked.

  “One of the zombies has been hurt in the woods,” I said.

  “Oh, my,” Mom said. “Who is it?”

  “It’s hard to tell with all the makeup,” I said.

  “Can’t you just ask?”

  I shook my head and looked at the ground.

  Mom held her hand to her mouth and her eyes grew huge. “Is it a dead zombie?”

  “I think that’s redundant,” Vi said.

  Mom and I both glared at her.

  “Shh!” I said.

  Just as I shushed Vi, a keening wail came from the Vaughn zombie crew.

  We turned to see who was making the noise. Richard Vaughn held his wife, Nora, while she cried. The rest of the Vaughn Jewelry zombie team stood awkwardly huddled together while Nora sobbed.

  Charla looked uncomfortable and tried to calm her.

  “I want to see him!” Nora said.

  Charla was shaking her head and talking quietly. I was surprised Charla had told them about Derek. We didn’t have a positive ID, just my memory of his signet ring. But then, I was sure they’d noticed, as I had, that Derek was missing from the crowd.

  Grace turned to me. “Is it one of the Vaughns?”

  I nodded. “I think it’s Derek,” I said.

  Mom and Grace gasped at the same time and each placed a hand on her chest.

  “But he was dressed like a pirate and covered in makeup,” Grace said. “I thought it was Paul. How could you tell who it was?” She grabbed my hand and her fingers felt like ice. Her pale face looked skeletal in the dancing light from the bonfire, her huge eyes taking up most of her face.

  “I saw his ring. The one with his initials.”

  Mom and Grace nodded slowly, probably remembering the ring.

  “Poor Nora,” Mom breathed. She wiped at her cheek.

  Dad put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. They didn’t know that I knew Mom’s secret. Neila Whittle had predicted that mom would attend the funeral of one of her children back when Grace and I were kids. Any mother losing a child hit her particularly hard.

  “I have to go say something.” Mom pushed away from Dad.

  Vi stepped forward and took her arm. “You’re the last person she’s going to want to see right now. Just leave her to her family, Rose. There’s nothing you can do.”

  Mom looked at Vi as if she wasn’t sure who she was, then she shook her head and nodded. “Of course, you’re right, Vi. I just feel awful for all of them. Derek was so . . . charming.” She looked at Grace and then at me. “I can’t imagine . . .”

  I glanced over the crowd while Mom had her moment, and saw that Tom was working his way through the group with a clipboard. He seemed to be checking names off on a list. Mac must have told him to be sure he had contact info for the whole group.

  The excited and celebratory mood had dissolved. Runners and zombies gathered their belongings and straggled toward the parking lots. The runners had all parked in the south lot, while the zombies and the organizers had parked in the middle lot closest to Message Circle.

  I turned to Seth and Sophie. “We should get you two home to bed.”

  “Of course,” Paul said. “Let’s all go home.” He steered Grace toward the parking lot.

  “Shouldn’t we stay and help Mac?” Vi said.

  The last thing Mac would want right now was deputy Vi.

  I shook my head. “We’d only get in the way, Vi. The best thing we can do is to help Tom clear the area and make sure he has everyone’s contact info.”

  “You can do that.” She waved her hand at me in a shooing gesture. “I’m not good at the boring paperwork.”

  I sighed. “Okay, you head home with Mom and Dad.”

  I stopped to talk to Tom, but he said he had everything under control since Charla was also there collecting names and addresses. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Mac’s keys.

  “Mac said he can catch a ride with me or Charla later.” He dropped the keys onto my palm. He tilted his head and gave me an understanding look. He knew that even though I hadn’t returned to police work, it was hard for me to walk away from a suspicious death.

  I trudged into the trees alone.

  Our 5K course had meandered through the woods, but the main path back to the parking lot was less than a mile. As I walked farther from the bonfire and the murmur of voices in Message Circle, my thoughts turned to Derek Vaughn and who would have wanted to kill him.

  I hadn’t seen him in years, but the Derek I had known was friendly and charming, and I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to kill him. He wasn’t perfect, and he’d probably left some jealous boyfriends in his wake, but murder? I’d also heard rumors over the years—mostly from Vi—that he had moved to Chicago and that his gambling problem had nearly bankrupted his father when he bailed Derek out. But that had been years ago and as far as I knew Vaughn Jewelry was doing well. I wondered why he had come back this weekend. He couldn’t possibly have known that Grace would be here. I didn’t even know Grace would be here until a couple of hours before she arrived. Then I thought of Grace and her worry about Paul. Was it possible that Derek had been confused for Paul and it could have been Grace’s husband, Seth and Sophie’s dad, sitting out there under a tree with a knife in his chest?

  12

  At five a.m. Saturday morning, I finally got out of bed. I’d hardly slept and Mac had not returned home. With both dogs and Seth staying at my Mom’s, the house felt empty and cold.

  I had just pushed the button on the coffeemaker when a car pulled up outside. I went to the front window and looked out. A police cruiser idled in the driveway with Charla behind the wheel. Mac climbed out of the car, waved to Charla, and slowly mounted the steps to the porch.

  I swung the door open before he reached it. His eyes looked tired and worried, but he smiled and pulled me into a hug. I quietly steered him toward the kitchen and we sat at the small table.

  After he had gulped down half a mug of coffee, I felt comfortable quizzing him.

  “Was it Derek?” I asked.

  Mac nodded and rested his chin on his hand. “I just came from the Vaughns’ house. They were expecting it, but it was still horrible. I hate that part of the job.”

  I put my hand over his and waited.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing, though. It makes me even more motivated to find the killer when I spend time with the family left behind.”

  “Any leads yet?”

  “As you saw, he was stabbed and it’s the likely cause of death. There were signs of a fight and some defensive wounds. I don’t expect any surprises but the official report won’t come through until early next week. No witnesses have come forward, so we’ll need to interview everyone involved with the zombie run and try to piece together his last hours.”

  “Can I help?”

  Mac shook his head. “I’m going to try to sleep for an hour or so—I’m meeting the team at eight to discuss what we know and plan the next steps.”

  He slowly mounted the stairs and then I heard him overhead. First one shoe, then the other clunked onto the floor, and then the house was silent. Mac had perfected the ability to fall asleep quickly, even if he was stressed or worried. I envied the skill. It seemed the slightest thing could set my brain racing, especially when I was overtired.

  Not a morning person, I was surprised at how loud the birds were at this early hour. Did I usually sleep through all this noise? I puttered in the kitchen, not wanting to disturb Mac. Unlike him, my brain was still in overdrive from my night of tossing and turning. I couldn’t sha
ke the feeling that Grace was involved somehow. She herself was worried that the murder had been meant for Paul, and I didn’t like the coincidence that she and Derek had both returned to Crystal Haven after so many years away on the very same weekend.

  I had picked up the house and was just contemplating going for my morning run when I realized I didn’t have to train anymore. I was at a loss. No wonder I usually slept in.

  The imperious knock on the door startled me and I rushed to answer it before whoever it was woke Mac. I glanced at my watch—seven o’clock. No one ever came to my door at seven in the morning.

  I turned the knob and before I had even opened the door a couple of inches, Lloyd began scolding me.

  “I said the zombie run would be bad for Crystal Haven and now look at what happened.” He pushed the door open and stepped inside, still talking at full volume. “What are we going to do?”

  “Lloyd, keep your voice down,” I said, frowning at him. “Mac is trying to get some sleep before he has to go back to work and figure out what happened.”

  Lloyd made a dismissive noise. “How can he sleep when the reputation of Crystal Haven is spiraling downward?!”

  I rubbed my forehead. “What?”

  “It was bad enough that we’ve already had two murders in the past year, but this one will put us over the edge. Zombies and murders! We’ll scare the tourists away.”

  I refrained from pointing out that, unfortunately, it might actually draw more people to town. It certainly hadn’t deterred the tourist trade so far.

  “Harriet had the nerve to suggest we cancel the reenactment!” Lloyd said.

  I felt like I had missed part of the conversation.

  “What?”

  Lloyd tilted his head and glowered at me. “Do try to keep up, Clyde. She thinks that it would be in poor taste to hold the reenactment after the murder. I think it’s exactly what we need. We have to rinse the taint of murder off of our town and the best way to do it is to continue on as we had planned.”

  “Okay, why are you telling me?”

  Lloyd put his hands on his hips. “You and your aunt clearly have a contingent of voters in your back pocket and I know Jillian Andrews has been ‘involved’ with Mayor Winchester for years. If you and Violet set your mind to it, you can convince everyone to participate.”

  Ah, now I understood. He wanted to be sure he wouldn’t have any opposition now that there was dissent in his own home.

  “I don’t see any reason to change the Founder’s Day plans, Lloyd. D—the victim wasn’t from Crystal Haven.”

  “Do you know who it was, then?”

  “I do, but I don’t think it’s public knowledge yet. I’m sure the police will make an announcement later today.”

  “I hope it’s before noon. The parade starts at one o’clock.”

  His concern for the dead was underwhelming but I refrained from mentioning it in the hopes he would leave.

  I shrugged. “I think you should carry on as if there won’t be any changes to the schedule.”

  “Thank you, Clyde.” He grabbed my hand and shook it. “I’m so glad you see things my way.” I thought that was taking things a bit far, but he seemed to be preparing to depart, so I didn’t argue.

  “I’ll let you know if I hear anything that will impact your plans.” I pulled the door open and pointedly waited.

  He nodded and stepped onto the porch. I swung the door to close it and he turned back toward me.

  “Can I send Harriet over if she still thinks we should cancel? I’m sure she’ll listen to you.”

  Again, I was shocked into silence. I just nodded and clicked the door shut. I leaned against it and took a deep breath.

  Mac lumbered down the stairs a few moments later looking rumpled and just as tired as before his brief nap.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “It’s the same stuff from earlier. We can make a fresh pot . . .”

  He waved off the suggestion and headed to the kitchen.

  “This is better. The bitterness will wake me up.”

  I shivered a bit as he poured the thick dark brew into a cup. But Mac put enough sugar and cream in his coffee to pass as dessert anyway, so maybe he could tolerate it.

  “I’ll take a quick shower and head back in to the department,” he said after several long sips.

  “Lloyd was just here,” I said.

  He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought I heard you talking to someone. What was he doing here so early?”

  “He wanted an update on the events at the zombie run, to remind me he had always thought it was a bad idea, and to ask for my help in lobbying not to cancel the Founder’s Day celebration. In that order.”

  Mac set his mug on the counter and leaned against the sink. “I forgot all about Founder’s Day. We’ll have to cordon off the area where Derek was killed and keep the reenactors away.”

  “You don’t think they should cancel?”

  Mac snorted. “Does it matter? It will be easier to just guard the crime scene than to try to cancel Founder’s Day. Especially if he’s got you on his side.”

  I stepped closer and rested my forehead on his shoulder. “I can’t believe we’ve had another murder. Do you think there could be any truth to what Grace was saying? She’s convinced it was meant for Paul.”

  Mac slipped his arms around my waist. “It’s too early to tell. I have to assume the killer knew it was Derek, but after their story the other day, I think you should all stick together if you go to the celebrations. Don’t let Grace or Paul wander off alone.”

  Twenty minutes later Mac was showered and I had tossed on jeans and a sweatshirt. We walked together to the driveway and he kissed me quickly on the forehead. He hopped in his truck to go to work and I climbed into my Jeep to drive to Mom’s place. I figured they’d all be awake by now and I could find out what gossip Vi had picked up.

  * * *

  Baxter greeted me with his full complement of moves when I entered the front door. Tail wagging, head butting, drooling, and shoving his head in my bag looking for treats. Even Tuffy seemed glad to see me in his own subdued way.

  “Clyde, what took you so long?” Vi said after Baxter had calmed down enough to allow me entrance.

  “It’s only eight o’clock, Vi.” I set my bag down on the hall table.

  “We’ve been up for hours! Grace thinks there’s a killer on the loose and he’s after her and Paul.” Vi grabbed my hand and dragged me to the dining room.

  I was surprised Grace had been so forthcoming with her information. She’d acted so secretive when we were at Rupert’s.

  Mom rushed over to me as I entered the dining room. “Clyde, you have to get Mac to arrange for police protection. Grace and Paul are in danger!”

  “I know, Mom. Grace told—”

  “Paul and I explained about that unhinged client who lost his savings in the last downturn,” Grace interrupted. “He blames us and maybe he’s followed us out here.”

  Ah. So not entirely forthcoming. Nothing about organized crime, the SEC, or the FBI. She’d have my aunt and parents looking for a lone deranged killer instead of several trained assassins. However, if the two men I had seen were the trained assassins, I doubted we needed to worry. They were terrible at blending in and seemed a bit lost. I gave Grace my one-raised-eyebrow look. She hated it because she couldn’t do it, but I made my point.

  “Where are the kids?” Seth was notably absent from a table filled with food. I wondered if he was sick.

  “They’re playing a game on the computer,” Paul said. “We asked Seth to entertain his sister since they haven’t seen each other in so long. She misses him.”

  “We’ve been making a plan to protect Paul and Grace and to prove to the police that they should guard them until the killer is found.”

  “How can you be so sure the killer ha
sn’t already found his intended victim?” I asked.

  Mom and Grace stared at me with identical looks of pity and disdain.

  “Clyde, please,” Mom said. “Who would want to hurt Derek? Everyone loved him. He was a wonderful person. So funny and charming . . .”

  I saw Grace’s quelling glance at our mother. She flicked her eyes at Paul, who sat tense and pale with hands clasped tightly on the table.

  “Of course, people change, I suppose . . .” Mom trailed off. She passed the plate of muffins around to distract us from the tense mood that had settled over the table.

  “I think we need to be careful today,” Dad said. “Everyone should stick together when we’re out in public. No one goes off on their own.” I smiled my thanks at him for saying exactly what I was thinking.

  “You’re right, Frank,” Mom said. She plopped a muffin on his plate and patted his shoulder.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go to the Founder’s Day events,” Grace said.

  I took a breath to say that that sounded like a great idea.

  “Hey, when’s the parade?” Sophie bounded into the room with Seth close on her heels.

  “Yeah, I want to see how a ‘dignified’ celebration looks,” Seth said, making air quotes.

  “I can take them,” Dad said.

  “Aren’t you going?” Sophie turned to Grace.

  Grace glanced at Paul and a message must have passed between them.

  “Sure, Soph, we can all go,” Grace said.

  “I heard Mr. Munson wears a wig every year,” Sophie said. She giggled and glanced at Seth.

  “Well, he feels it’s more accurate to the period to have his hair in a ponytail,” Mom said.

  “I’ll bet he just likes the idea of having hair at all at least once a year,” Seth grumbled. Obviously he had not forgiven Lloyd for trying to cancel the zombie run.

  “Are you going to wear a wig, Papa?” Sophie bounced on her toes and I was reminded of Vi.

  “No, hon. I don’t do that part of the reenactment. I’m one of the townspeople from Grand Rapids. I have to try to convince Delphine to come back home,” Dad said.