by Deb Baker
All the while his thoughts bubble like a shaken can of soda, ready to explode. Especially now, with what he’s just heard.
“Mr. B.,” she says, calling him back from wherever his mind has wandered. “Want one?” Cramming Dunkin’ Donuts into her pie-hole. Offering friendship. He waves it away without transferring his eyes from up the street. Nice try, but no thanks.
He hears a growl from inside a bag on her shoulder. Rat-like thing with beady eyes stares out at him. Growls again. They exchange glares. The dog looks away first.
She’s finished with the tale, but he has questions. “Skeleton in the closet, you say? Imagine that.” Everybody has ‘em, only this isn’t what she means. These are real bones. He wonders what they look like. “Anybody get a picture?”
A vigorous shake from her, whole body a big negative. “No,” she says. “My friend? You know the one who dresses to match her dog? She had a camera but she didn’t pull herself together in time after the shock. It isn’t every day you find a skeleton.”
“Too bad. Convenient that she had a camera with her, though.”
“They were trying to get photographs of a ghost.” She has crumbs on her lower lip. Brushes them away. “Instead they found a murder victim. The place is haunted, you know?”
“I can see why.”
What’s her name again? Starts with an ‘A’. After a month. August? April? That’s it. “You sure have the details, April.” She’s been spewing them at him, along with donut crumbs, one after another, like she knows what she’s talking about. Wasn’t even there. If he hadn’t volunteered the use of his building for their event, he’d miss out on all this action. Living right upstairs helps, too, makes him feel part of things.
“They found a headless doll body in the closet, too, with the headless skeleton.”
“How old do you think the bones are? Did anyone say?” The house has been vacant for what? A decade? Two? What a perfect place to stash the body. In a house nobody wants.
April chews a chunk of donut.
“Could be only a few months, I think,” she says, like she knows her corpse decomposition facts.
April bounces away from the street corner and disappears inside the banquet hall. Pretty soon more of them will show up. He’s still exchanging greetings when the shakes start. Like ground tremors along a fault line, his body begins to tremble and all the self-will in the world can’t control it.
A group of women from the cast walk toward him, crossing the street against the light, oblivious to traffic. A car honks and they step it up. One of them looks directly at him, right into his eyes.
He’s almost sick on the sidewalk.
When will she stop tormenting him?
Every last one of them looks exactly like her.
Chapter 21
Gretchen’s hiking boots dug into the red rocks of Camelback Mountain. She’d learned the hard way that early morning climbs were less dangerous than those made later in the day. As an expert climber, she wasn’t worried about proper dress and ways to prevent dehydration. It was the creatures of the desert that bothered her the most. One too many encounters with rattlesnakes and poisonous bugs and she’d rapidly adapted to this exotic land.
The colder the temperature, the better. Not only did she have the popular mountain all to herself, without the influx of tourists and sightseers, but the rattlers were paralyzed by the cool air. Later in the day when the temperature rose, they would be lying on the rocks, sunning themselves. That is, if the sun managed to come out today.
The snakes could appear deceptively immobile, but, if warm enough to respond, they could strike like a bolt of lightening.
She shuddered at the thought of thick-skinned, deadly reptiles as she reached the summit and greeted the day. Clouds hovered over her head, giving her the impression she could reach out and touch them. She wore a lightweight waterproof jacket just in case the angrier clouds in the distance reached her before she descended.
How did so many species survive in this hostile environment? Squirrels, birds of every kind, coyotes, bobcats, jackrabbits, wild pigs, all seemed comfortable and at home in the desert.
Gretchen sat and breathed in the fresh air, absorbing the quiet.
Then she climbed back down to the halfway point where an enormous boulder overlooked the city.
Matt was already waiting for her with travel mugs.
“Coffee?” He flashed the smile that had charmed her from the very moment she met him. And he wore the Chrome cologne that she loved so much.
She took the cup he offered and sat down on the boulder beside him.
“You look tired,” she said.
“I have to work twenty-four hours a day to keep you out of trouble. Every time I arrive at a crime scene, there you are.”
“Are you blaming me for all your problems?”
“Absolutely. But you’re worth keeping in spite of the extra effort.”
“Thanks.”
They watched the Phoenix morning unfold below them and sipped coffee. Their relationship had reached a new level. They could be in each other’s company without feeling like they had to talk every minute. Gretchen found it comforting.
She also felt a drop of water.
“It’s starting to rain,” Matt observed, but he didn’t move from beside her.
“You’re in the right field of work, Sherlock,” Gretchen said, teasing, “But you still haven’t learned how to dress to climb mountains. Where’s your rain gear?”
Matt wore khaki shorts, a T-shirt, and sandals. “Rain gear in Phoenix?” he said. “We rarely need foul-weather gear.”
Gretchen raised her face into the soft rain. “Have you found out anything about the skeleton?”
“The victim was a woman, probably about sixty years old. Dental records aren’t going to be helpful since we don’t have a head to work with, which also rules out our ability to forensically reconstruct the victim’s facial features. Identifying the remains is going to be tricky. Our team worked through the night querying missing person databases and lining up forensics experts. The department doesn’t have its own internal resources to handle the complexity of identifying the corpse without requesting additional assistance. What we really need first is a forensic anthropologist to date the remains.”
“Sounds more complicated than I imagined,” Gretchen said.
“The days of pounding the pavement for information are almost over. I spend most of my time at a keyboard. It’s raining harder by the way.”
Gretchen didn’t move. This moment alone with him on the mountain was too precious to give up willingly. “Finding the skeletal remains of a human didn’t really bother me as much as I thought it would. I’ve seen enough cadavers in textbooks, and I took anatomy in college, so I can even identify most of the bones in a human body.”
“The missing head did it, right?”
Gretchen snuggled a little closer on the boulder. “The lack of a head, yes. And the headless doll body disturbed me as much as the actual headless skeleton.”
She shivered. “It has to be Flora Swilling’s body. Did you see the photograph of the girl holding a doll? It’s the same cloth doll body. I’m sure of it.”
“The doll body could be the same, but we can’t work from intuition like you do. I have to prove it with concrete facts. Flora Swilling married a man named Berringer. The husband died in the sixties of heart failure. I went through old missing person reports and found something interesting: In 1981, almost twenty years after her husband died, Flora Berringer disappeared. She was never heard from again.”
Gretchen jumped up, excited. Nina had been right all along about the identification of their ghost. “You know we’ve found her!”
“We still need to make a proper identification, but, yes, I think you stumbled across what’s left of Flora Berringer.”
Gretchen felt as though she’d accomplished something big, something really worthwhile. She’d put together one more piece of a puzzle, as grisly as it was. Now the p
olice would study Flora’s history, search her background, and catch her killer after all these years.
“I want to help,” Gretchen said as they started down the mountain. “I felt a connection to her from the moment I saw that old photograph.”
“Now you sound like your aunt.”
“If what I saw last night is all that remains of that woman, I want to help catch the person responsible.”
“That’s my job.”
“We can solve a cold case together.”
“Oh, wouldn’t that be fun.”
“I knew that’s what you’d say.”
They had reached the trailhead. Matt’s car was the only one in the parking area. They ducked into it just as the sky gave way. Rain beat on the windshield. Matt didn’t make any attempt to start the car.
“Are you keeping quiet about the words on the headstone?” Gretchen asked.
“Yes, didn’t Caroline tell you?”
“No, she must have forgotten.”
So her mother wouldn’t have told anyone. And Gretchen hadn’t, which meant the note on her windshield hadn’t been left as a bad practical joke because no one knew about it.
“About the museum, Gretchen. You can’t go back to it,” Matt said.
“Of course I can.”
“Let me rephrase that. The house has been officially sealed until we go through every box in the place and I’m satisfied that there’s nothing left to find.”
“When will you be finished?”
“In a few days. We’re going to move quickly on this one. In the meantime, please be careful. Stay close to your family. Stay out of dark places. Make sure you’re locked in securely at night.”
There the warnings were again. All the rules that woman were forced to live by. What must it be like to be a man, to be able to live without all the fear?
“I mean it, Gretchen,” Matt said. “Put the project on hold. Stay home and work on your business.”
He’d never leave her alone if he knew about the note. He’d only worry more. And what could he do about it? But she had to tell him.
Matt reached into the backseat. “I almost forgot. I fished this out of your mother’s car before it was towed. You’ll give it to her?”
Gretchen took the shopping bag and peeked inside. She withdrew a white plastic bag and started to open it.
“Whoa,” Matt said. “You aren’t going to open that, are you? What if it’s, you know?”
“Oh, right.” Gretchen put the plastic bag back inside. “Doll stuff.” He wouldn’t like that.
“So,” she said. “We aren’t going to be partners?”
Matt grinned and reached for her. “It depends on what kind of partners you’re suggesting.”
She had no intention of sitting on the sidelines like a good little cheerleader, but the man was irresistible!
A few minutes later, the car’s windows were completely steamed over. And the nasty note was the last thing on Gretchen’s mind.
Chapter 22
Gretchen, Caroline, and Nina crowded around the computer in the doll repair studio. Doll parts were sorted neatly inside stacked white bins, each labeled with their contents. The “basket cases,” those dolls needing extra attention, were wrapped and placed carefully in bins near the worktable. Projects with approaching deadlines were also close to the workstations.
“See it!” Nina leaned toward the computer screen and pointed excitedly with a long, red fingernail. “It’s an orb!”
“It’s a smudge on the lens,” Caroline said.
“It’s our ghost,” Nina insisted, clicking her nail on the screen.
Gretchen leaned forward and squinted at the monitor. What did she expect to find? The smoky outline of a human body? All she saw was a spot.
“Ghosts can appear as mist or sparkles,” Nina said. “Orbs are most common. I’d stake my future on it: that glowing circular object is an orb.”
“You’re sure it isn’t dirt on the lens?” Gretchen was doubtful.
Nina picked up her camera and presented the lens side to her sister and to Gretchen. “Not a single speck. It’s as clean as Nimrod’s teeth.”
Gretchen laughed. “That clean?”
“I forgot to tell you I had all the pooches’ teeth cleaned. Nimrod, where are you?” Nina, decked out in black mourning as she decided was fitting after the discovery in the armoire, called out to the puppy.
Gretchen heard her tiny poodle running through the house. He barreled into the workshop, his little black ears flapping. Nimrod almost overran the spot where Nina wanted him to perform. He skidded to a stop and waited impatiently for the next command.
“Smile,” Nina said to him.
Nimrod pulled back his lips exposing his teeth and producing more of a grimace than a grin.
“My,” Caroline said, laughing. “Those are clean teeth.”
“Take a bow, Nimrod,” Nina said using her training voice.
The poodle tipped his head in a perfect bow.
Gretchen saw a transaction between the trainer and the puppy, a treat passed so discreetly that a casual observer would have missed it.
Everyone clapped. Tutu watched aloofly from afar, miffed that she wasn’t the center of attention.
Caroline held the copy of the old photograph. It was the first time she had seen it.
“I’m amazed,” she said, “that you found this picture.”
“It’s what started us on the path,” Nina said. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have recognized the doll body.”
“Oh my!” Caroline said. “I completely forgot. I found a metal head doll in one of the boxes and had it in my car when I crashed. Matt pulled out the things from my car.”
“He gave them to me, but I didn’t know what was inside,” Gretchen said, digging under her workstation and handing the shopping bag to Caroline.
“It’s the metal head in the picture. I’m sure of it.” She pulled out the white plastic bag and showed the doll head to Gretchen and Nina.
“That’s it!” Gretchen said. The head wasn’t in its original condition, but she could tell that it was the same or at least an exact replica. In the photograph, only shades of brown were visible, but the actual doll head had yellow painted hair and faded red lips. “Now, Nina, you can reunite the head with the body. If the police ever release it to you.”
“Doubtful,” Caroline said. “They’ll want it for evidence.”
Nina took the head and concentrated. “I’m not getting anything useful from it,” she said. “Not one single message.”
“It’s been packed away for a long time,” Gretchen said to ease her aunt’s psychic growing pains.
“That must be it,” Nina said, brightening. “Originally, I thought we had to reconnect the doll with its owner, but…”
Nina let the sentence die. Gretchen knew the rest. Now Nina thought the ghost was waiting for its own head.
“She helped us, you know,” Nina said instead. “She made the noise that led you to the armoire. She wanted us to open it.”
“Or,” Caroline said, “the disturbance came from a mouse.”
“No one ever believes me.”
“I’d like to look through the rest of these digital images,” Gretchen said, ignoring Nina’s pout.
“Please do,” Nina said. “We’re off to plan the menu with the caterer, and I’m going to do a little window-shopping.”
After they left, Gretchen remained at the computer.
She had done her ghostly research throughout the night thanks to her inability to sleep after finding human bones in a wardrobe. There was a remarkable wealth of information available online. That was the beauty of the internet. Anyone could become an instant expert on any subject.
Digital cameras like the one Nina used were apparently notorious for producing paranormal-like orbs, especially in low lighting as had been the case in the museum. Did that mean for certain that Nina’s orb was caused by flaws within the camera? Gretchen didn’t know.
Other conditions
that could produce false images were overexposure or flash reflections in mirrors. Then there was the problem of lens flare. Even a camera strap could cause a white vortex to appear, leading beginners to believe they had captured more exciting images than, say, an equipment strap.
She scrolled through Web sites that claimed to offer authentic pictures of ghosts. She analyzed one photo gallery after another. Some contained orbs like Nina’s. One website claimed orbs were fakes. Another supported them as real apparition sightings. Which to believe?
The picture in question had been taken by Nina while they were mounting the steps to the second floor. In the photo the orb floated above the steps near the landing. Gretchen recalled that all three of the women had turned on their flashlights. She hadn’t gone up the steps first because she was creeped out by the thought of encountering a real ghost. She had been working on collecting her nerves and chastising herself for being afraid.
Caroline hadn’t gone first, either, now that she thought about it.
Nina had.
Details were coming back to Gretchen. Her aunt had stopped midway up the stairs and snapped the first picture of the night. Before that, she had asked Gretchen and her mother to turn off their flashlights. The unexplained circle of light that Nina had captured couldn’t be attributed to reflective surfaces. There hadn’t been any lights illuminated for this particular photograph.
Gretchen continued slowly through all the pictures Nina had downloaded to the computer. She saw herself in some of them, eyes a little too wide, skin pale and prominent in the darkness around her, lips pressed tightly together.
She’d really been afraid.
The remaining pictures didn’t produce evidence to support an apparition. They didn’t eliminate it either. Every picture had mysterious shadows that could be explained away by camera glitches, lack of proper lighting, or an inexperienced photographer.
Gretchen gave up the computer search to tackle the work her mother had left on her workbench. Caroline was organized to a fault, unlike Gretchen, who tended toward extreme clutter. When they began working together, that had been their biggest problem—how to accommodate their different working styles. The only solution had been two workstations and her mother’s strict orders for Gretchen to stay away from her space.
