The school ended up canceling all practices that day on account of Tim. The police were conducting interviews with friends and teachers, trying to find out who had seen him last, and if anyone knew anything that could help them in their investigation. The upside to this was that while I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, Becky swung by and offered me a ride home. I called my mom to let her know.
“You mind stopping by City Hall on the way home?” I asked Becky.
“I don’t know…it’s tempting. But if my mom doesn’t get to give me a proper wedding, Daddy will never hear the end of it.”
“Not what I meant.”
“Oh. In that case, then, sure.”
We parked and went into the brick building designed a century ago by Jack Monroe. It was cool inside, and I was self-conscious as my Vans squeaked on the marble floor. We found what we were looking for hanging along one wall of the lobby: the framed plans to the various city buildings Jack Monroe had designed and built. Here hung the blueprints for the courthouse, the library, the Masonic Temple, the bank (which had since been split in two and now housed Cooped Up Books and a travel agency), and City Hall—but no Monroe House.
We asked the clerk, a young woman streaming daytime TV on her desktop, what happened to the rest of the plans that had been donated. She just gave us a blank look. She said she’d been working here a couple of years, and had never even paid attention to the prints that lined the lobby walls, let alone wondered if there were any more.
I wasn’t going to be put off that easily. I lied, explaining that I was doing a school project on historically important architecture of Pico, Texas. Becky added that the principal—a member of the city council— was sure going to be upset to learn they had lost those plans. We kept pestering her until she caved, not wanting to miss any more of her soap. She asked us to wait, then went to find someone else.
She brought an older lady back with her who, it turned out, was the City Clerk. She didn’t know what happened to the rest of the drawings, but after hearing our fabricated story, she assured me they would try to find out where they went. I gave her my phone number and asked her to let me know.
We left City Hall and headed to my house. On the way, Becky casually mentioned, “Heard y’all are coming over for dinner on Wednesday.”
“Yeah, I stopped by to see you yesterday. Our dads got to talking, and the next thing I know we were invited over for dinner.”
She looked impressed. “My dad must like you.”
“I think there was just some Irish bonding going on between our folks. Though he did say you were better off with me than Jason.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah, so I figured I’d do your dad a favor. You know, win you back. I mean, not only for him—it was for my dad’s sake as well. He’s new here, and I think the two of them could be friends. My dad could use one here in town. Plus, you know, if I became part of the family like your dad wants, I’m sure he’d give us a good discount on some new cars, if I can convince my dad to ditch the wagons.”
The Mustang lurched to a stop in front of my house. Becky turned to me and glared.
“Oh, and you thought one kiss is all it would take to, quote, win me back? After what you pulled? After everything you did?”
“No. Actually, I was hoping it would take lots.” I leaned over to show her, and her temper melted away. About ten minutes later, I heard a car pull up. I took a breather to look, saw that it was Eve and Trevor, and went back to kissing Becky.
A minute later Becky broke away and said, “I need to get going. After my parents found out they canceled practice, my mom made me promise to come home and help her clean up for dinner with you guys.”
“That’s not for two days!”
“She’s a little obsessive about this stuff.”
“How about we just stay here for a couple of hours, and Wednesday we all meet somewhere for pizza?”
“I’m all for it, but my mom—not so much. She prides herself on her Southern hospitality.”
“Too bad. I’m kind of enjoying your Southern hospitality.”
She was beaming.
“I guess that means you forgive me?”
“The verdict is still out on that one, but one last kiss wouldn’t hurt your case.”
A short time later, I heard a car door, and then Eve muttering, “At least put the top up” as she walked by.
We reluctantly parted, and I got out of the car. Becky showed restraint as she pulled away, only peeling out a little. I rushed up to the house behind Eve and just slipped in the front door before it closed all the way.
“Outside, lip-locked with his girlfriend,” said Eve, in response to a question I’d missed.
“Which one?” my mother asked.
Chapter 27
After dinner, homework, and a little time spent honing my Death Karts skills, it was dark—time to visit with Rose. I decided to ask Mr. Givens about Charlotte first. Once I broke up with Rose, she might not be too keen on my sticking around to ask questions.
As I walked next door, I noticed the fence had been repaired. The new section even had a fresh coat of white paint, making it stand out even more than when it was broken.
I knocked on the door, then gave Stanley and Oliver a pet as I waited nervously for someone to answer it. I had a feeling neither conversation I was about to have would be particularly pleasant. When Mr. Givens finally opened the door, he said, “She’s not here.”
“She’s not?”
“You deaf? They just left. Come back later.”
“That’s okay; I wanted to talk to you, too.”
“Not interested.” He slammed the door on me. I cursed my luck. This not only delayed my plans to disentangle myself from Rose, it meant I had to wait at least another day until I spoke to Mr. Givens about Charlotte. The only way he would speak to me would be if Rose made him. She was clearly the one in charge.
I checked Rose’s window before going to bed, but her light was out and the shutters were closed. She visited me late that night, though, or maybe I dreamt it.
I woke up to her stroking my hair. She sat next to me on my bed. Even in the darkness, I knew she looked down at me fondly.
“Sorry I missed you, Christopher. I had to run out of town on a little errand. We’ll be leaving soon, and I had to prepare. Come by again tomorrow.” Rose bent down and kissed my forehead, then she lay next to me and continued caressing my hair until I slept.
She was gone when I woke, of course, and even though Emily hadn’t visited, I was seriously dragging. Getting ready for school was more of a chore than usual, and I was starting to worry that I had picked up mono. I could only imagine the grief my parents would give me if I had. It would be even more fuel for scolding me about the whole multiple-girl thing.
When I got to school, my friends noticed it too. They gave me worried looks and asked if I was okay. Trevor said I looked so pale I could pass for a white guy. It got old after a while. I might have been feeling a little under the weather, but people were acting like I was at death’s door.
At least it was nice being with Becky, even if she was more distraught over my condition than everyone else. I was anxious to put all of the relationship drama behind me, and I vowed to deal with Rose tonight even if I had to camp on her porch until she showed up.
I got a call on the way to work from the sour receptionist over at City Hall. As she spoke, I could hear her soap in the background. She told me that they had hung only the most high-profile plans in City Hall; the Pico Historical Society had donated the rest to the library.
I cursed. I started work in five minutes, and the library would be closed by the time I got off. It would have to wait until tomorrow after school.
I sleepwalked my way through work, dreading the conversation I would be having with Rose later that evening. Once I was home, I reheated a plate of leftovers and waited for an opportunity to slip next door unnoticed. The last thing I needed was to be caught visiting Rose late at night, rig
ht after I officially got together with Becky. My parents would send me to whatever the male version of a nunnery was.
Once everyone was otherwise occupied, I slunk next door. A rumpled Mr. Givens answered my knock. I decided to go with the direct approach.
“Hello, Mr. Givens. I was wondering if I could ask you a question?”
He smoothed his unkempt hair, managing to look suspicious and put-upon at the same time.
“Yeah? What about?”
“Charlotte Monroe.”
“What about her? She’s been dead for sixty years.”
“I’d like to know why she was killed and, more importantly, what happened to her daughter.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He had started to close the door on me when Rose’s voice stopped him.
“Really? Because if you do know something, I’d like to hear it as well.” Mr. Givens turned, and his face changed as he watched Rose descend the stairs. The unfamiliar turn of a smile bent his lips and his eyes filled with wonder. Considering he looked about five times her age, it was more than a little creepy.
He turned back to me and nodded slightly, then moved aside to let me in. The two of us followed Rose into the kitchen. On our way, I noticed the TV and components were gone, along with Rose’s friends.
Rose saw me looking around and explained, “They found a new place. We’ll be joining them soon.”
Mr. Givens smiled and nodded. It was obvious he expected to be going with them. I elevated him from creepy to full-on disturbing.
While Mr. Givens and I sat at the table, Rose went to the fridge to get me a diet root beer, not bothering with anything for Mr. Givens.
“So, David—tell us all about Charlotte and her daughter.”
Despite his obvious desire to please Rose, he looked uncomfortable, like he wanted to be anywhere else but at that table. Nevertheless, he started.
“She was a witch; practiced black magic. I could hear it sometimes, late at night—rituals coming from out in the yard next door. She’d be out there chanting or dancing around a fire. It was unnatural. Of course, a lot of things in this town are, I suppose. Not that all of them are bad, of course!” He looked at Rose when he said it. She gave a brief smile, and he continued.
“People used to show up at all hours of the night for spells and potions. These weren’t just the degenerates, mind you, the uneducated ones that accepted magic as a legitimate trade. These were normal God-fearing people, made desperate by circumstance. They turned to her witchcraft when medicine or prayer wouldn’t work.
“I almost could have put up with that, but then she set her sights on William Collins. He was a married man, but that didn’t stop that woman. She must have used some sort of spell on him. He was completely infatuated. He all but forgot his wife Mary, and before you knew it, Charlotte was pregnant with his bastard. Imagine what Mary’s family went through, having their daughter openly forsaken like that? Christ, Charlotte wasn’t even a white woman!
“At least the whore had the decency to move away, and I thought we were finally rid of her. But she came back soon enough. It hadn’t been more than a few years, and when she returned she brought that bastard child with her.”
“Emily? She brought her here?” I said, things slowly starting to click into place in my mind.
“At first she tried to keep it a secret—hide it in the house—but you can’t do that for long. Eventually people noticed. She said it was her cousin’s from back East. She said her cousin was sick, and she was caring for the child until her cousin was well enough to come get it, but I knew the truth. I could tell. When I was out in the yard, I could hear her singing to it from that window in the attic.
“Well, she weren’t back for a few months when Mr. Collins was caught in her web again. Before long, he was ready to leave his wife. That just wasn’t right, and we all knew it. William Collins was a decent, hardworking man. He was respected. We couldn’t stand by and let that witch ruin him and his family. Not to mention what it would have done to poor Mary.
“So we did what you do with any witch. We got rid of it.”
“You hung her?” I asked, quietly. I knew the answer, but I wanted him to confirm it.
“Yes, sir. It happened the night Mr. Collins told Mary he was going to leave her. Mary told her father, and when we heard, we decided enough was enough. We weren’t going to sit back while that colored woman destroyed the lives and reputations of a respectable family.
“So we hung the witch. Strung her up from that oak growing between our two houses. Sheriff called it a suicide, and that was that. Town was a better place for it.”
Somehow I doubted that. “And William Collins didn’t mind?”
“’Course he did; he was bewitched! We had to lock him up to keep him from interfering. Never did forgive us. We thought killing her would break the spell, but it only made it worse. The next day, he left Mary, and within a week he was gone. He moved back East somewhere; never did return. His younger brother took over the ranch.”
“What about Emily?”
“Don’t know what happened to her. Maybe she was sent back East.” He looked away, and even I could tell he was lying.
“Now, David, tell us the truth. You know I don’t like it when you lie,” said Rose, a new and unsettling edge developing in her voice.
Mr. Givens looked sufficiently repentant before he continued.
“Charlotte must have known what was coming, and hid the child before we got in the house. Maybe so it wouldn’t have to see what was going to happen to its momma.”
“Where did she hide her?” I asked.
“In the cellar. After we finished, I had gone into the kitchen for a drink. I could hear it pounding and screaming for its momma.”
“You left her there?” asked Rose.
“What else would I do with it? That child was just a mixed-breed bastard. Would have ended up an orphan, a ward of the state. Taxpayer liability. Not to mention what a reminder it would have been to the Collins family to have her running around alive.”
I pretended not to hear that and instead focused on the location. “The cellar? There is no cellar.”
“’Course there is. It’s behind one of those crazy secret doors Jack Collins built all over that house.”
“But I searched everywhere.”
“Obviously not hard enough, ’cause it’s there.”
“Well, it seems like you have your ghost, Christopher. Now all you have to do is return Emily to her mother and this will be over. Your family will be safe, and we can move on.” Significant implications lingered behind those words.
It was time to tell Rose I couldn’t see her any more.
“Um, Rose…I need to talk to you.”
“Of course.” She looked at me expectantly.
“I’d rather we spoke alone.” I made sure she caught my glance at Mr. Givens and its ill-hidden contempt.
“Shall we go outside?”
“That would be great.” The less time I had to spend around Mr. Givens, the better. Besides, I was starting to feel trapped in the house. The outside felt like it would be safer.
We ended up back on the porch swing, sitting together under the tree Charlotte had been hanged from sixty years ago. I was having second thoughts about the appropriateness of this location for dumping her, but in for a penny, in for a pound.
We sat in silence, Rose waiting for me to speak. I thought about using some version of a shoe analogy, but decided against it. I was struggling with an opening when Rose ran out of patience.
“So, Christopher, what is it you wanted to tell me?”
“I don’t think I can see you anymore.” Can’t go wrong with straight and to the point.
“Excuse me?” It was the third time I had seen Rose genuinely surprised.
“It’s not you, it’s me.” Wow, I couldn’t believe I’d actually said that. Apparently, neither could Rose.
“Excuse me?” she repeated, this time with less surprise and more a
nger. Her voice carried the same edge it had with Mr. Givens a few minutes before, and I felt distinctly uncomfortable having it directed at me.
“It’s just not working out. I mean, I like you and all. You’re a great girl. You’ve helped me with the ghost, you’re beautiful, nice, it’s just….”
“Becky.” The way she said it sent a shiver down my spine. Tim was still missing, and I was suddenly terrified for Becky.
“It’s not that; it’s other things. It would be a pain. For one, you never seem to be around during the day. Then there’s the fact that you’re leaving town. Longdistance relationships never work. There’s no hope for us. I think it would be best if we end it. I mean, we could still be friends.” Damn, I swore I wouldn’t use that one either.
“Christopher, you are full of surprises and not all of them pleasant. Do you know how long it’s been since I was rejected? For another woman? It was a whole other lifetime ago.”
“Um, well…I’m sorry.”
“Are you sure it’s what you want?”
“Yeah, it kind of is.”
“Very well.” The swing stopped moving. Rose stared straight ahead, with an expression like a disappointed teacher who had just handed her pet student his first failing grade.
“Well, I should be going.” I got up fast, hoping she wouldn’t follow. To my relief, she stayed put.
“Um, so, goodbye, Rose. I guess I’ll see you around.”
“Goodbye, Christopher.” She said something else after that, but I didn’t hear what it was. I was too busy walking away, hopping the fence and making a beeline to my front door.
Chapter 28
Once the door was shut and I’d thrown the bolt, a sense of relief washed over me. That conversation hadn’t gone great, but it had at least been better than I’d feared. My mouth was dry, so I grabbed a drink out of the fridge. After that, I started searching for the door to the basement. I looked for a long time but, as always, I came up empty.
The Haunting of Pico (Pico, Texas - Book 1) Page 22
