Given Enough Rope (Haunted Series Book 20)

by Alexie Aaron

  Dieter who had been observing them from the second-story landing laughed.

  “All this time, I though Audrey had the safe job,” Mark said.

  “The researcher has the hardest job,” Mia pointed out. “Audrey not only has to peruse possibly dangerous materials, but find other sources to confirm what she has read.”

  “So you’re saying someone would lie in their own journal?”

  “Maybe, or exaggerate, or put in some unsubstantiated rumors.”

  “So where do we begin?” he asked.

  “Let’s unwrap each one and see what kind of book we are dealing with,” Mia suggested.

  They unwrapped a beaten-up exercise book. It was handwritten by a navigator of a merchant vessel. There were crude drawings, along with precise maps, intermixed with passages of the adventures he and the crew had on the islands and the continents they had visited. Mia thought it was an odd book to secret away. They set it aside and unwrapped the next book.

  “The Journal of George Wall,” Mark read. “He’s the pirate that married Rachel.”

  “According to what I read on the internet, he wasn’t a pirate when they got married. He was a knight who saved the fair Rachel from being beaten by a gang of women on the waterfront,” Mia said. “What they did after that, made them pirates.”

  Another book was freed from the wax paper, and Mia noticed the difference in the quality of the journal’s cover. It was cheap. Inside, a name was scratched out in a childish hand: Becky Wall age 10. Mia showed it to Mark. “Okay, we have the father and the child. Let’s hope one of these books is Rachel’s.”

  The two books were unwrapped, Candide by Voltaire and, finally, a small book with pressed flowers in the pages. There wasn’t a name to be immediately seen, and the flowers were listed by their common names in the same scrawl of Becky’s hand.

  Candide was given to George by a woman. ‘To Georges with love, M.,’” Mia said in a comical French accent.

  “Why these books?” Mark asked Mia. “I can see keeping the journals and perhaps the pressings of the flowers, but the navigation book and Voltaire?”

  “In this book, Voltaire made fun of the gullible young man trying to make his way in the world,” Mia said. “Don’t look at me so funny. I didn’t exactly have much choice in my reading material when I was a teen. I read what my parents read or what was left in the Bedford house where I was raised.”

  Dieter walked down the steps and over to the work table. He picked up Candide. He opened it, turned it upside down, and shook it.”

  “What are you doing? It’s a first edition English printing. It’s worth a fortune!” Mia cried.

  A letter fell out from the prison of the satirical book. Dieter set the book down, looked at the letter, and handed it to Mia. “It’s in French. Would you like me to read it to you?” he asked, his feelings bruised by her outburst.

  “I’m sorry for yelling at you, but these aren’t mine. Old books, especially first editions in good repair, can fetch a lot of money.”

  “What about that navigation book?” Dieter scoffed.

  “We don’t know it’s worth. We haven’t researched the writer,” Mia said.

  “But look at it. It’s garbage.”

  “I ran into a fellow who had a linen napkin where Picasso had drawn a picture to amuse him when he was a young boy at a restaurant. Want to estimate its value?” Mia asked. “You’re going to hear this a lot, especially in the Midwestern United States, ‘One man’s junk is another man’s fortune.’ In paranormal research, we need to examine each thing we find. It will help us to unravel why a dangerous jewel thief went to all the trouble of trapping a ghost and removing him from the house.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize,” Dieter said.

  “Dieter, I’m not mad. Remember, I’m the child that Nietzsche chased all over a dig site because I decided a leg bone from one of his ancestors made a great golf club. We learn things every day. For example, you learned to read French, and I didn’t. Would you please read the letter to me?”

  Dieter picked up the paper and read,

  My Dearest Georges,

  I fear that the authorities are closing in. I cannot risk being caught with the goods you have stored in my home. I have sent your treasure with my faithful servant Henry. He will contact you when it is safe to do so.

  Olympe de Gouges

  Mark typed her name into the laptop, and his eyebrows lifted.

  Mia waited until he had digested the article before she asked, “I take it Madame de Gouges must have been someone of importance?”

  “Oh, yes, sorry. She was a French writer who spirited social causes, like the rights of orphans, unwed mothers, maternity hospitals, divorce, and better roads. She was true to her friends, and unfortunately, sided with Louis XVI and died in 1793 by guillotine,” Mark reported.

  Dieter sat down and carefully refolded the letter.

  “Do you think the jewelry is the treasure?” Mark asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mia said honestly. “I wonder… Mia pulled off a glove and started to reach for the letter and stopped. She placed a hand on her stomach and sighed. “I promised Ted to be careful. I’m hoping we can figure this out without my reaching into the past.”

  “We know the letter was placed in Voltaire’s novel. Even though the writer was French, it’s in an English translation,” Mark said. “I think the novel and the letter were obtained separately, but each is a piece of a bigger puzzle.”

  “Like this exercise book full off maps,” Mia said, handing it to Dieter. “Please look through this and see if there is something out of place or falls into place…”

  “Yes, Mia.”

  “I’ll read George’s journal. That leaves Becky’s diary and flower pressings for you, Mark.”

  “What about Candide?”

  “Ah, I think I’ll ask my godfather Bernard to see if he can come up with an expert on Voltaire who can help us with the novel. I suspect, the reason the book has been kept has more to do with the places the hero traveled than the lessons he learned along the way. Don’t you see the common thread?”

  “Maps!” Mark and Dieter chorused.

  “If the jewels aren’t the treasure, then the map to the treasure is here in these books. In order to crack this, we have to know more about Becky and her father.”

  ~

  Tauni Cerise opened the door. She stared at Patrick a moment but held her tongue.

  “I’ve come to speak with Sabine. Is she at home?” he asked.

  “She’s here but indisposed.”

  Patrick reached in his wallet and drew out a card and handed it to Tauni. “When she is able, could you ask her to give me a call. It has to do with acting as liaison with Stephen and Kevin Murphy.” He smiled and turned to leave.

  “Why you?” Tauni asked.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Why are you here, and not Mr. Dupree?”

  “There is a delightful lady in Big Bear Lake, who has had her ghost friend stolen, who’s hired PEEPs to locate him. I have an angle that may shed some light on how to locate the ghost-napper, but I need the help of the Murphys. I can’t get near the excavation site because of all the police. I was hoping Sabine could OOB over and ask the Murphys to meet with me at Mia’s parents’ condo.”

  “Come in,” Tauni said. “Sit.” She pointed to the couch.

  Patrick looked at the pile of unfolded laundry on the couch and picked up a pile and sat down. While Tauni was gone, he folded it. He enjoyed the little clothes of the girls and laughed at all the pairs of socks. He lined them up on the coffee table and did his best to match them.

  Tauni walked back in and cleared her voice to let him know he wasn’t alone.

  “The funny thing about socks is that they are magicians and escape artists,” Patrick told her. “You put a pair in the dryer and out comes three and not one a match to the other two. Take these little chicks trimming these anklets, they are delightful and yellow, and you would think that this
is the matching sock,” he said, holding up another anklet. “But look closely, these are imposters, not peeps at all, but ducks. Same color, different species. I bet if we look in the drawer, we will find a pair that shouldn’t be…”

  Tauni became fascinated with the man. He was rough around the edges, but his charm was natural and not forced. She believed he was truly fascinated by the Norwood girls’ socks.

  “The girls are at preschool. Their aunt Holly takes them, and I pick them up in the afternoon. Those three girls are a handful. No, that’s a lie. Two of them are a handful; the other is too quiet. We thought that they needed to mix with other children.”

  “School’s a fine place for those that enjoy it.”

  “Sabine will be out in a moment. May I offer you a drink?”

  “Would it be too much trouble for a tea?”

  “I have a pot already brewed, Mr. Callen.”

  “Patrick, please call me Patrick.”

  “Patrick, do you take anything in it?”

  “I’ve got a sweet tooth, and some milk please.”

  Tauni smiled. “I’ll be right with you.”

  Patrick went back to folding the clothes. He noticed all the pants had worn knees. The tops stained. These girls played hard. He absently reached for a handful of more laundry and found he had picked up some ladies’ undergarments. He tossed them back on the pile.

  Sabine, who had been watching him from the hall, couldn’t help but be touched by his embarrassment. She took Patrick for a player - and he may very well be - but still there was a boyish innocence about the man with the twinkling eyes.

  “Patrick, I’m sorry you had to wait. I was in the bath. Something I rarely get a chance to do when the girls are home.”

  “I should have called,” Patrick said.

  “Tauni said you need to get ahold of Stephen and his father?”

  Patrick explained what was going on, his part in the ruse, and his need for the protection that Stephen Murphy could give him. “Stephen, to my understanding, has dealt with one of the ghosts before, a guy named Skinny. Mia says that anyone working with this Edward Jones is dangerous. I need the backup,” Patrick admitted.

  “Why are you doing this?” Sabine asked. “It’s not your fight.”

  “Mason is employed by PEEPs. If it’s my brother’s fight, it’s my fight.”

  “Family seems to be important to you,” Sabine said.

  “It’s not just family by blood. Not long ago, my brother had gotten himself in trouble, deep trouble. PEEPs came in and risked their lives for him. I met these amazing people and the ghost who had become this family, and they welcomed my brother and me into theirs. We all need to stand together if we’re going to make a better world for your girls and Mia’s sons. The time of personal sacrifice is still upon us. Whether it’s saving an old lady’s ghost or the world. We need to do what’s right.”

  “That’s quite a speech,” Tauni said, handing Patrick a mug of tea.

  “It’s not a speech. It’s how I feel,” Patrick said. He took his mug and walked over and looked out the window. “Up here, the world looks sunny and inviting, but when you’re down there, fighting to make your way in the shadows of these buildings, it’s cold and hard.”

  “Mr. Callen, I owe you an apology,” Tauni said.

  “No need. I’m used to it,” Patrick said softly. “People can tell if you’ve traversed the dark gray line. I’m not proud of it, but I have done my best to walk a better path these last few years.”

  Sabine looked over at Tauni and received a smile in return.

  “I’d be happy to contact Murphy. Would you like to wait here?”

  “I’ll head over to the condo and wait for the fellas. Before I forget, Fergus O’Connor would be welcome too. I understand he is Kevin’s constant companion.”

  “I’ll contact the Murphys and Mr. O’Connor,” Sabine promised.

  Patrick drank his tea and rinsed his mug in the kitchen sink. The women watched him. He seemed at home in the apartment. He stopped and gazed at the refrigerator art. “Ah, I see you have one of little Brian’s works too.”

  “How can you tell?” Sabine asked, walking in.

  “They are taped up all over the command center. His technique may be raw like a toddler, but the subject matter is complex.”

  “It just looks like three girls riding a unicorn,” Sabine said.

  “Look at the sun. Isn’t that an angel in the light?” Patrick said. He nodded to Tauni and left the apartment.

  Tauni walked over and stared at the picture. “Is that Michael or one of the other two?” she asked Sabine.

  Sabine touched the drawing and ran her finger over the sun. “No, Tauni, it’s Mia.”

  “I don’t understand,” Tauni said. “I thought the girl lost her wings.”

  “You don’t have to have wings to be an angel and watch over the innocent. In Brian’s mind, his mother is doing just that.”

  ~

  The Gifford house was wired, and Burt had set up who was on what shift. Ted and he would alternate being on site. Cid and Ira would split the tech duties. Mason was currently on his way to Chicago to work with Patrick on seeing if they could oust Edward Jones from his hideaway. Tom and Deputy Chambers would alternate escorting Bea when she needed to leave the house. They were taking no chance that she might be harmed or taken. Mike was still active coordinating what was going on with Dash’s restaurant and the lot next door. Mia was entrenched at the aerie doing research with the help of Mark and Dieter.

  Ted came home to find Lazar in the midst of vacuuming the second floor of the farmhouse.

  Lazar jumped and put his hand on his heart. “Holy smokes, you gave me a start, Mr. Martin!”

  “Ted, it’s Ted. Mr. Martin is the evil man who has taken my son,” Ted said.

  “I’m sure he’ll give him back. And when he does, ask the little lord why he has sixty-four marbles spaced evenly along the baseboards of his room,” Lazar requested.

  “Mia is going to flip,” Ted said. “Murphy gave Brian some marbles to play with, and all Mia could think of was Brian choking on them. How did he get sixty-four of them?”

  “What do you think he’s working out?” Lazar asked.

  Ted walked in the room and stood in the middle and laughed. “He’s figuring out how to build a salt dome. You see, a few days before he was born, an Other – these are like repo men, but they collect people – built a salt dome. It was invisible to the eye but kept Murphy locked in here and other ghosts locked out. When Mia was in the climbing facility, she mentioned it sure would be nice to be able to build one, so that they could keep the ghosts away from the climbers. Am I making any sense?”

  “Mark and Dieter told me about the demon and her guard-ghosts,” Lazar informed him.

  “I think Brian was listening and has been working on the problem on his own. I better warn my father to watch out for this kind of activity. What if the little dude builds a barrier that locks humans in or out?”

  Lazar leaned against the wall and adjusted his leg.

  “What’s the problem?” Ted asked.

  “This leg is great for walking, running and standing, but it doesn’t give me the flexibility you would have from a knee.”

  Ted got down on his knees and studied the artificial limb. “What if I built one that gave you the flexibility you wanted but could also lock into place when you didn’t want it?”

  “I’d say thank you and good luck,” Lazar said. “Many have tried.”

  “Would you mind if I used a little robotics in the design?”

  “As long as I don’t find myself pinned to the ceiling,” Lazar teased.

  Ted laughed. “Oh that, I’m sure it wouldn’t happen… It could happen, but I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

  Lazar raised an eyebrow.

  “Have you seen my wife? She’s about this tall and had two teenagers attached to her?” Ted asked.

  “I just took up a pizza they ordered to the aerie. If you go up there,
remind Mark he has to leave in an hour to get ready for practice.”

  “I will do so,” Ted promised. Ted pulled out his phone and walked into his bathroom.

  Lazar couldn’t help but overhear Ted’s conversation with his father.

  “Dad, have you noticed anything odd? Okay, that is too vague. Have any small items like Legos gone missing? Bouillon cubes? How many? Um, check the baseboards in the room Brian is staying in. Why? Well, I think he’s using them to work out a problem. Okay, I’ll wait.”

  Lazar resumed his vacuuming. He was startled by a tap on the shoulder.

  “Yes?”

  “Good catch. Brian had taken two jars of wrapped bouillon cubes and had them spaced around his room. When my Dad asked why, he told him his mother said he could no longer use melons.”

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Patrick walked into the high-end Michigan Avenue antiques store. He didn’t stop to admire the contents of the showroom. Instead, he took a direct line, ducking under the low header that divided the store, into the dimly lit office where a large dark-suited man sat staring at a computer screen.

  “I’m here to see Pavel.”

  “Yes, Mr. Callen, he is expecting you,” the man said. He walked behind him and opened the elevator door. He waited for Patrick to enter. He turned a key and typed in the number 15. He stepped out, and the doors closed.

  The elevator’s gentle rise was quick. Soon the door opened, and Patrick was faced with a brighter office with an attractive female smiling behind the desk. She raised her well-manicured finger and then nodded as the glass doors to the right opened.

  Patrick walked in.

  Pavel Matveev got up and shook hands with Patrick. “It’s been too long, Patrick.”

  “You’ve certainly come up in the world.”

  Pavel laughed. “Yes, that little office in the basement of the Dollar Store was getting a bit cramped.”

  “I have to admit feeling very uneasy walking into that showroom.”

  “All the contents were obtained legally. It’s a hobby of mine.”

  “How’s your family?” Patrick asked, sitting in one of the two wing chairs.