by Eva Pohler
“No, sir,” Ellen said. “We aren’t a firm. We aren’t trying to sell you our services. We want to donate a half a million dollars to you in exchange for a small favor.”
Mr. Mayo’s brows lifted. “You aren’t with the mafia are you?” He laughed nervously.
Sue also laughed. “Nothing like that.”
Ellen brought out the wireless inspection camera and video monitor and showed him the recording. “Can you see those skeletons piled on top of one another?”
“Oh, yes. Yes, I can see them. Where was this video taken?”
Ellen and her friends exchanged nervous glances. There was a long pause as their waiter brought them their plates.
Finally, Ellen said, “In the basement of your theater.”
“In my theater?” he took a bite of his pork.
“Those bodies are behind the concrete wall at the end of the stairwell to nowhere,” Ellen explained.
“I don’t understand,” Pete Mayo said. “How? I was told the concrete was put there to keep some old asbestos materials from contaminating the rest of the building.”
“In the interest of history and justice, we hope you won’t press charges, especially since we want to give you a half a million dollars,” Sue said. “Ellen? Tell him what we did.”
While Sue dug into her gyro, Ellen told Mr. Mayo all about Operation Old Lady on Brady.
When Ellen had finished, his only reply was, “I’ll need to give this some thought and confer with my attorney.”
“Of course,” Ellen said.
They finished their meal in relative silence.
That night, they took Simol to eat at the Mexican Border Café and offered her a deal. Tanya had been the one to think of it, and they’d discussed it on the train ride from San Antonio—along with other plans they had for the Monroe Social Club. They offered Simol a place to live in the building she’d called home for forty years.
“While it’s being renovated, you can keep an eye on the place for us,” Tanya said.
“And when we sell it,” Ellen added, “we’ll try to negotiate for the next owner to keep you on as the caretaker of the property.”
“Would you like that?” Sue asked, as she dipped a chip into a bowl of salsa. “We don’t want you to feel like you have to say yes. We’re only offering this to you if you want it.”
Tears gathered in Simol’s eyes, and although the expression on her face was answer enough, she said, “I would like that very much.”
As they ate their meal, Ellen told Simol about what she’d learned from the online lab.
“We can give Achak a proper burial, if you’d like that,” Ellen added.
Again, Simol said, “I would like that very much.”
Over the weekend, they still heard no word from Jillian Bridges about the judge’s decision. Sue spent Saturday with Lexi, and Tanya and Ellen went to a movie. They also stopped by Monroe’s to check on the progress. Some of the lighting had been installed, and stalls had been assembled around all the commodes.
Saturday night, Ellen received a text from Pete Mayo accepting their offer. As soon as half a million was transferred into his account, he would allow the concrete wall in his basement to be opened up—on the condition that any asbestos threats were contained and the expense of the wall’s demolition and restoration were not taken from the half-million-dollar renovation budget.
Ellen replied with their agreement. Pete Mayo texted that his attorney would draw up a legal, binding contract, which he’d have ready for all parties to sign on Monday.
Sunday afternoon, Ellen, Sue, and Tanya sat around the desk in their hotel and sketched out a vision for their property. They would hide the oil rig with a decorative tower made of a taupe colored limestone that would complement the red brick on the building. They drew a flower garden around it, which was trimmed with a red brick border and capped with the taupe limestone—to form seating along the perimeter of the tower. They drew walkways from the east and west wings that converged and circled around the tower. At the northern most point, the walkway continued toward the highway, to the very back of the property. There, they envisioned a memorial wall listing all the names of the riot victims identified among the remains of the two mass graves—both the one at Monroe’s and the one at The Brady Theater. After talking to Bob, they realized he might not be able to provide them with names, but they were willing to give him as much time as he needed, and they would continue to hope for the best. Unless the descendants of any known victims requested something different for their ancestors, it was also the hope of Ellen and her friends that the bodies of the victims would be laid to rest beneath the memorial wall, where a beautiful water feature would be erected, so the spirits would never fear fire again. Perhaps the act of conferring them to the ground would be enough to bring them peace.
Ellen and her friends also decided to create a charitable fund for The Greenwood Cultural Center, to be used as the center determined. They would ask Jillian Bridges to help them set up an account to which ten percent of their net well earnings would go every month. This would give the community an opportunity to continue to grow and thrive, even if the city was never required to provide fiscal reparations.
On Monday, Jillian finally called Ellen and told her that the judge had decided to take their suit against the city to trial. There was no guarantee that the Citizens of Tulsa versus the City of Tulsa would lead to reparations, but at least it was a possibility. More importantly, the city was being forced to face its demons once again, and instead of sweeping them under the rug, as they did in 2000, when they decided to stop searching for the mass graves, the city of Tulsa now had the chance to heal from its wounded past.
THE END
***
To purchase the next book in The Mystery House Series—French Quarter Clues—please visit https://www.evapohler.com/the-mystery-house-series.
You will also find information on a self-guided book club tour there!
Please enjoy the first chapter from the third book in The Mystery House Series, French Quarter Clues:
Chapter One: Return to Tulsa
“Like this?” Tanya asked, from where her long, thin form lay horizontally across the hotel bed in Oklahoma City. Her blonde hair draped over the edge of the bed.
“Hang your head over a bit more,” Sue instructed, as she moved her short, round body closer to Tanya, blocking Ellen’s view. “And keep it turned at a forty-five-degree angle.”
“What’s this called again?” Ellen asked from where she sat on the other double bed.
Sue kept her eye on the timer on her iPhone. “The Epley Maneuver.”
Nolan, Ellen’s son, who was in medical school, had suggested it at dinner earlier, explaining that the airplane ride that morning had likely dislodged a crystal in Tanya’s inner ear, causing the vertigo.
“I really hope this helps,” Tanya said.
Ellen hoped so, too. She’d been looking forward to this trip for months. They planned to drive a rental up to Tulsa the next day to lunch with Sue’s daughter, Lexi. Jan, Sue’s mother and the caretaker of the Gold House in San Antonio, had sent an anniversary gift with them for Lexi, and they were all dying to see what was in the box that Sue had had to lug around two airports, two planes, and a taxi. Jan had said it was a surprise and wouldn’t budge, not even with a hint.
“A few more seconds,” Sue said as she pushed her dark bangs from her eyes.
After their lunch with Lexi, Ellen and her friends were to attend a scholarship awards ceremony at the Greenwood Cultural Center, which was the main reason for their trip. Afterward, they planned to tour the Monroe Social Club in the Brady Arts District with Simol, the resident manager. They hadn’t seen the place since they’d sold it to the new owner over six months ago, within weeks of completing their renovations. Bob Brooks, the anthropologist who’d helped them with the search for the 1921 Riot victims, was still in the painstaking process of identifying the nearly three hundred bodies they’d recovered. He’d giv
en them an update over lunch earlier that day.
From Tulsa, they were going to drive up to Pawhuska, to lunch at the Pioneer Woman’s Mercantile and to tour the lodge where her cooking show was recorded.
“Now what?” Tanya asked.
“Turn your head to the other side,” Sue said. “For another forty seconds or so.”
Ellen stood to look at Tanya over Sue’s shoulder. “I thought her eyes were supposed to be fluttering back and forth.” That’s what Nolan had said, anyway.
“They aren’t?” Tanya asked.
Ellen bent over and looked more closely. “No.”
“Let’s just finish the maneuver and see if it helps,” Sue suggested. “Now roll over on your side and hold that position for another forty seconds.”
“If it doesn’t help, y’all go on without me,” Tanya said as she rolled over. “I don’t think I can make it in the car for the two hours to Tulsa if this thing doesn’t work.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” Sue said.
Ellen had been anxious to see the fruits of their hard work, especially after the wonderful article that had appeared in the Tulsa newspaper after The Monroe Social Club’s grand opening four months earlier. She was also looking forward to meeting their very first scholarship recipients, awarded with the oil money. And Pete Mayo, the owner of the Brady Theater, had given the Old Lady on Brady the first of three major facelifts with the money they’d given him. All of this had brought them back to Oklahoma, not to mention Ellen’s recent obsession with The Pioneer Woman. But Ellen didn’t want to leave Tanya behind in Oklahoma City.
She sent a little prayer out into the universe, asking for Tanya’s healing.
“Okay, now sit up,” Sue said, and she and Ellen helped Tanya to a sitting position.
“How do you feel?” Ellen asked.
“I don’t know yet,” Tanya said. “I think it may have helped. I’m not sure.”
“Do you think you can make it through a movie?” Sue asked.
The theater had reclining seats, so Ellen added, “It won’t make much difference whether you lay down here or in the theater, will it?”
“I guess you’re right,” Tanya said, though she didn’t seem convinced. “Let’s go.”
Sue grabbed her purse. “As often as the two of you had to pee during the flight over from San Antonio, I think we may have to hook you each up to a catheter, anyway.”
“Speaking of that, I need to go again,” Tanya said as she disappeared behind the bathroom door.
Ellen laughed and turned to Sue. “Why don’t you ever have to go? What’s your secret?”
Sue opened the hotel door and stepped into the hall. “I guess, unlike the two of you, I don’t have a bladder the size of a thimble.”
Ellen laughed again, but, when Tanya rejoined them in the hallway, her friend seemed quiet. Ellen hoped she and Sue weren’t pushing Tanya too hard by taking her to the movie. The Epley Maneuver hadn’t seemed to be the miracle cure they’d been hoping for.
Once inside the darkened movie theater, where Sue had smuggled in a can of Cherry Coke and a chocolate muffin, Sue made them move twice. Although Ellen had preferred their original seats in back, she had to admit that she, too, had noticed the horrible smell that had prompted Sue to want to move. But, even now, as they settled into their seats closer to the screen, the odor lingered.
“Did you step in something, Tanya?” Sue, who preferred the aisle seat, even though she had the better bladder, whispered to Tanya.
Tanya, in the middle seat, checked the bottom of her shoes. “I don’t think so. Do I smell bad?”
Ellen didn’t reply, because she’d come to suspect that Tanya had been the cause of the odor all along. Maybe she had a sour stomach and bad gas.
“They say your nose adjusts eventually,” Sue commented as she cracked open her Cherry Coke.
“Is it really that bad?” Tanya asked, her cheeks turning red. “I don’t smell anything.”
“Evidently, your nose has already adjusted,” Sue added. “You must have the superior nose.”
“It’s fine,” Ellen lied.
She took a whiff of her buttered popcorn to combat the other odor.
That night, Ellen was awakened in the hotel room by a shriek. Tanya, sleeping in the bed opposite her, was crying out. Ellen flipped on the bedside lamp and sat up.
“Tanya?”
Tanya turned onto her side toward Ellen. “Huh?” She blinked several times.
Ellen was shocked by the very dark rings beneath her friend’s eyes and by her pale, pasty complexion.
“Are you feeling okay?” Ellen asked.
“Just tired,” Tanya said as she closed her eyes. “Bad dream.”
But Ellen was worried. She wished Sue had stayed in the same room with them, so she could get her opinion. Ellen felt like Tanya might need medical attention.
Ellen crawled out of bed and inspected Tanya’s face beneath the light of the lamp. Deciding no to waken Tanya, Ellen climbed back beneath the covers and flipped off the lamp. She lay there, worrying, for many hours.
Tanya slept in the passenger seat for most of the trip to Tulsa, as Ellen drove and Sue navigated from the back seat. Ellen had hoped her friends would trade places, so she and Sue could visit and make the drive go by faster, but they were afraid Tanya would get carsick in the back. Plus, Sue preferred the back seat, because she didn’t have to wear a safety harness.
When they were still a good half hour away from Tulsa, Sue leaned toward the front seat, and said, “Tanya? You awake?”
Tanya continued to snore.
Then, to Ellen, Sue said, “I’ve been Googling her symptoms.”
“You don’t think it’s her inner ear?” Ellen asked.
“If it was, the Epley Maneuver would have worked.”
“Maybe we didn’t do it right.”
Sue frowned. “I followed the video perfectly.”
“What does Dr. Google say then?” Ellen asked, secretly wishing Sue would sit back in her seat and wear her seatbelt.
“Well, we know she’s not diabetic,” Sue said. “Her doctor would have caught that last month when she had her annual checkup.”
“True.”
“And we know it’s not her thyroid, because she just had that checked when they removed that tumor from her parathyroid a few months ago, right?”
“But it could be related to that, couldn’t it?”
Sue lowered her voice. “Ellen, brace yourself.”
Ellen glanced at Sue’s reflection in the rearview mirror.
Sue whispered, “I think it’s a demon attachment.”
Ellen narrowed her eyes at Sue’s reflection. “Seriously? What makes you think that?”
“You didn’t think something was strange about the nightmare she had last night?”
At breakfast, Tanya had told her and Sue about a horrible dream in which Tanya had murdered them in their sleep and had gorged on their blood. Tanya hadn’t been able to eat breakfast because she had still felt nauseated from the experience, which she’d said had felt disturbingly real.
“It was just a bad dream,” Ellen insisted.
“Check this out,” Sue said. “Here are some of the symptoms of demon attachment: Severe nightmares or night terrors, strange lingering odors, depression, fatigue, personality changes, blackouts in memory, and abusive behavior.”
Ellen laughed. “Tanya is the last person on earth who’d be abusive. And those symptoms apply to at least a dozen health issues I can think of right off the top of my head.”
“Maybe, but I think we should be on the lookout, just in case. I’ve been sensing something unusual lately. It went away when I was in my own hotel room, but it came back when we met for breakfast this morning.”
Ellen had learned not to assume that every claim Sue made about her “gift” was based purely on her imagination. While Ellen tended to be a skeptic first and foremost, she’d seen enough to be a believer, too.
She
glanced at their friend snoring in the passenger’s seat beside her. Tanya’s pale complexion and the dark circles beneath her eyes continued to worry Ellen.
“You have to admit we’ve been a little careless with our use of the Ouija Board and other occult practices,” Sue added. “We may have invited something in.”
Just then, Tanya opened her eyes and met Ellen’s gaze.
“What’s wrong?” Tanya asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Ellen frowned, suddenly nervous. “I was just checking on you. How do you feel?”
“Does it really matter?” Tanya snapped, as she closed her eyes and turned to face the window.
Ellen glanced at Sue in the rearview mirror.
“That wasn’t like Tanya, to be so rude,” Sue whispered.
After Ellen had parked the rental in front of the La Quinta in Tulsa, Tanya lifted her head and looked around.
“Are we here?” Tanya asked sleepily.
Ellen turned to her friend. “What did you mean when you asked if it really mattered how you felt? We care about your feelings and don’t want to push you, if you can’t handle the trip.”
“What are you talking about?” Tanya asked.
Sue leaned forward. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it, Ellen.”
“Mean what?” Tanya asked.
“Ellen asked how you felt, and you said, ‘Does it really matter?’”
“I didn’t say that,” Tanya insisted. “I would never say that.”
“We both heard you, Tanya,” Ellen pointed out.
Tanya’s cheeks turned pink. “I must have been talking in my sleep.”
Later, Ellen and Sue met Lexi for lunch at the Greek restaurant across from the Old Lady on Brady. Tanya had decided to stay behind at the hotel and rest.
