1 The Ghost in the Basement

by SUE FINEMAN

  Staring at the card in her hand, she said, “That’s it?”

  “No. I’m still buried under Maggie’s bills. You said if we tried the last procedure, you’d pay for half.”

  “My daughter is dead and you’re asking me to pay?”

  “My son’s mother is dead and he’s doing without because of those bills.”

  Her black eyes shot so much venom she reminded him of a snake. She didn’t care about Billy; she only cared about herself and her suffering. “You killed my daughter. Don’t you dare ask me to pay your bills.” She walked to the front door and opened it.

  “It’s not Billy’s fault his mother died. Hate me if you will, but don’t take it out on Maggie’s son.”

  She didn’t respond, but he didn’t expect her to. He left without a backward glance, and the gate closed behind him so quickly it nearly clipped the back of his car.

  There was so much hate in that woman. Every ounce of love in her had gone to Maggie. Her precious little girl. He regretted inviting her to visit Billy. If she spewed any of that venom at his kid, she’d never get near him again.

  As he drove home, Donovan knew there was only one way to get out from under that debt. Eleanor wanted to break him, to send him to his knees and keep him there, and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

  It was too late to keep Pop’s house, but not too late to dig out of his hole. So what if he didn’t make captain? He was tired of struggling, tired of fighting with the hospital. It was time to see an attorney and file for bankruptcy. He had to take his life back and give his son a better life. To hell with Eleanor Goodman.

  If the hospital insisted on someone paying that bill, they could go to Eleanor. She had more money than any reasonable person could ever spend. She could afford to pay the damn hospital bill.

  <>

  Hannah and Pop came home with a load of groceries. She’d just gotten the last of them put away when the doorbell rang. Donovan answered it and called for Hannah. She was surprised to see Monique’s friend, Rupert Bosch, in the living room.

  “Hannah, Monique told me you were still distraught over losing your grandparents, and I hate to bother you, but—”

  “It’s all right, Mr. Bosch. Come in. Monique isn’t here. She left a few days ago.”

  “That’s not why I came. I intend to use the house for an office, but the sale can’t close until it goes through probate.”

  “Sale of the house? Are you telling me Monique sold you this house?”

  He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “This is a copy of the purchase and sale agreement.”

  Donovan took the envelope and scanned through the papers.

  She turned to the broker. “The house is part of my grandfather’s estate, and Monique has no claim on the estate.”

  “I understand that, but she has your power of attorney.”

  She laughed a little. “Nobody has my power of attorney, and if I gave it to anyone, I promise you it wouldn’t be Monique. I don’t trust her.”

  He groaned. “Now you tell me.”

  Donovan gazed into Hannah’s eyes. “It’s fraud, Hannah. If you didn’t give Monique your power of attorney and didn’t agree to sell the house when and if it becomes yours, she’s broken the law.”

  “I can’t believe she did that with a police detective living in the house,” said the broker.

  “Nobody told her what Donovan does for a living,” said Hannah. “How much did she take you for?”

  “Nothing yet. The deposit is in my escrow account until the deal closes, which will obviously not happen. Too bad. This would make a perfect office.”

  “Not in my lifetime,” said Hannah. “I intend to spend the rest of my life in this house. Besides, I don’t think you want to operate a business in a haunted house. Right guys,” she called into the house.

  Donovan pointed to a glowing form at the bottom of the staircase, and Mr. Bosch’s face lost all its color. As he eased toward the front door, he said, “I-I have the originals of those papers in my office if you need them, Donovan, and a key.”

  “I’ll be by in an hour.”

  As soon as the broker was out the door, Hannah exploded. “Damn her! If I never see Monique again, it’ll be too soon.”

  Donovan walked into the library and called the station. “Put an APB out for Monique Maxwell. She has California plates on her car, a late model Cadillac, light blue.” He recited the plate number from memory. “The charge is fraud. She tried to sell a house that didn’t belong to her. She’s also wanted in Oregon for attempted murder.”

  Hannah watched and listened to Donovan’s part of the phone conversation. If Monique came back here, she’d spend Christmas in jail. If they convicted her of attempted murder, she could spend a lot of Christmases in jail, and that was where she belonged.

  Donovan ended his phone call, and Hannah felt numb. “No wonder Grandpa didn’t trust me with the house. He thought I’d grow up to be just like her.”

  “Sonny hadn’t seen you since you were twelve years old, Hannah. He knew you as a child, but he had no idea what you were like as an adult.”

  At that moment, she felt like packing her things and leaving, moving someplace Monique would never find her. Donovan needed the house more than she did. What hurt the most was knowing her grandfather didn’t believe in her enough to give her the house without putting conditions on it. She didn’t care what Monique thought of her, but she did care what Grandpa thought.

  She sank into the chair in front of the desk. “I knew Monique was selling sex, because she tried to talk me into having sex with some of her men when I was in high school, but I didn’t know what else she was doing.”

  “She did what?”

  Hannah waved her hand. “I didn’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking, and it doesn’t matter now. It’s too late to charge her with child abuse. I learned the art of self-defense before my age reached double digits. When I was eight, one of Monique’s men tried to put his hands in my panties, and I fought back. To punish me, he locked me in the trunk of his car. Every now and then he kicked or punched the trunk and told me what he’d do to me when I came out. I still have nightmares about that night.”

  “Did she know what he was doing?”

  “I don’t think she cared. Two days later, I stole some money from her purse and went looking for a weapon. Nobody would sell a gun to an eight-year-old kid, and I was afraid of knives, so I bought a few hat pins. Grandma said when she was a young woman, girls used to use them for self-defense.”

  She heard someone behind her and looked over her shoulder at Pop. “Did you ever have to use the hat pins, Hannah?”

  “Yes, I did. Grandma was right. They worked great.”

  Donovan walked around the desk. “Pop, would you call Lucky Locksmith and see if he has time to re-key the locks today? If Monique comes into this house again, I’ll shoot her.”

  “I didn’t give her a key,” said Hannah.

  “I know, honey.” She could have taken the spare key from the kitchen drawer or borrowed one long enough to have a copy made, or maybe she gave Rupert Bosch a fake key. In any case, it didn’t pay to take chances. They’d have the locks changed.

  Hannah busied herself in the kitchen. She started a pork roast for dinner and made scalloped potatoes to go with it, then mixed two batches of refrigerator cookies. It kept her hands busy, but her mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Her mother, a woman she thought she knew well, was a common criminal. Over the years, Hannah had forgiven her for one thing after another. Leaving her alone over Thanksgiving. The incident with that creep and the car trunk. Forgetting her birthday three years in a row. And moving her as many as five times in one school year.

  They’d always lived with some guy or in a motel room until Monique found a man to take care of them. It started when Hannah was six, when they moved from River Valley. When she was a little girl, Hannah thought everyone lived that way. But as she got older, she realized most of the other kids at school had a home o
r apartment they’d lived in for at least a year. They had aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents they saw all the time. Some had divorced parents like Hannah, but they still had some consistency in their lives. They had bikes and pets, a bedroom of their own or one they shared with siblings, and rules. The only constants in Hannah’s life were the summers and Christmases she spent in River Valley, and Monique took them away from her.

  Monique wasn’t ever taking anything else from her.

  <>

  Sunday afternoon, Hannah took Billy shopping for new clothes for his birthday. The parking lot at the mall was filled with cars and the stores were packed with Christmas shoppers. It wasn’t the best time to shop, but this boy was outgrowing everything. His feet were a size bigger than the shoes he was wearing. She wondered if Pop and Donovan noticed how big he was getting. In the two months she’d known him, he’d shot up. Maybe it was because he was eating something besides cold cereal, pizza, and peanut butter.

  After they picked out his new clothes, she said, “You’ve been helping me around the house so much since you moved in, you’ve earned an allowance. I figure five dollars a week, and you’ve been helping me for eight weeks. How much is that?”

  Billy’s face scrunched in thought. “Forty dollars, but you don’t have to pay me.”

  “I want to, Billy.” She reached in her purse and handed him four ten-dollar bills. “Push it deep into your pocket, so you don’t lose it.”

  He grinned. “Okay. Thanks, Hannah.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll pay you every week from now on, okay?” She closed her purse and took the bags from the clerk. “Is there anything else you want to look at while we’re here?”

  “Aren’t you gonna buy anything for yourself?”

  “I have everything I need, and I don’t have much money with me today.”

  “Don’t you have any credit cards?”

  “Yes, I have one, but I only use it for emergencies, like if my car breaks down or I need new tires and don’t have the money to buy them.”

  Billy walked out to Pop’s car with Hannah. He was quiet for a few seconds and then he said, “Pop said my mother ran up too many bills and that’s why we had to move. She always bought everything she wanted.”

  Hannah was stunned. She thought it was all medical bills. “That’s too bad.”

  “Yeah, but now we get to live with you.”

  Billy thought it was forever.

  Hannah had learned years ago that nothing was forever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  On the way home from the shopping mall, Hannah heard a siren behind her. She looked out the rearview mirror to see a car with a flashing blue light on top. It wasn’t a patrol car, but the siren and light told her she’d better pull over.

  She didn’t get a good look at the driver until she stopped and he walked up to her window. He tapped and she rolled the window down about two inches. “What do you want, Cordelli?”

  “Get out of the car.”

  For the first time ever, she wished she had a cell phone. “If you’re going to give me a ticket, just give me the damn thing and get it over with.”

  “Are you refusing to comply with a direct order?”

  She didn’t want a confrontation with this jerk, especially with Billy in the backseat. “Was I speeding?”

  “Get the fuck out of the damn car. Now!”

  A patrol car pulled off in front of Hannah’s car and she breathed a sigh of relief. Hands shaking, she rolled her window up.

  “Isn’t that the creepy detective Dad doesn’t like?” Billy asked.

  “I don’t like him either.” Knowing Cordelli, if she got out of the car, he’d pat her down – grope her – and find a reason to take her in to the station. Bad enough to have that happen, but she didn’t want Billy watching and telling his father. Donovan would explode.

  After a discussion with the uniformed officer, Cordelli backed away from her car and the officer told her she was free to go.

  Trembling with anger, Hannah pulled out into traffic.

  “He said the F-word,” said Billy.

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Why did he stop you?”

  “To make your father angry. But it won’t work if we don’t tell your father the creepy detective stopped me.”

  “I won’t tell him.”

  Neither would she. If Cordelli wanted a fight, she’d give him one, but she didn’t want Donovan to fight her battles for her. Cordelli had political connections, and his uncle and cousin would undoubtedly stick up for him. If Donovan fought with Cordelli, he could lose his job. He might lose it anyway, but she didn’t want him to lose it because of her.

  <>

  Instead of a birthday party, Billy asked if he could have his best friend, Jason, spend the afternoon and stay the night on his birthday. It was Billy’s first sleepover, and his eyes were bright with excitement.

  After the boys came home from school, Billy opened his presents. Jason gave him a game. Pop had bought him a new baseball mitt, since Billy had outgrown his old one. Hannah had taken him shopping last weekend for new clothes. Donovan gave him several rare baseball cards and a case to keep them in. And Trevor’s gift was a stunning picture of Donovan and Hannah. He’d taken it right after they’d found the cornerstone with Andrew’s name. The sunset was behind them, and they were holding hands and facing each other. Hannah recognized the frame from their wedding picture, the one Trevor had taken with him when she threw him out.

  “It’s my favorite picture,” said Billy. “Thanks, Trevor.”

  Pop examined the picture. “That’s a great picture, Trevor. You have a lot of talent with a camera.”

  The boys had gone upstairs with Billy’s new game when the doorbell rang. Hannah went to answer it. There stood a short woman with piercing black eyes and lips tightly pressed together. Dressed all in black, the woman reminded Hannah of a raven ready to peck something to death. Hannah took a step back and waited for her to speak.

  “You’re Monica’s other daughter.”

  It didn’t sound like a question, but Hannah answered it anyway. “My mother’s name is Monique Maxwell, and I am her only child.”

  “You were her second daughter. She sold me the first one.”

  Hannah was too stunned to speak. The woman shoved a package into her hands and turned to leave.

  “Wait,” called Hannah. “Who are you?”

  “Eleanor Goodman,” she said over her shoulder.

  Hannah was still standing in the open doorway when Donovan walked up behind her. “Who was that?”

  “Eleanor Goodman.”

  “She didn’t ask to see Billy?”

  “Why would she… ” Hannah stared at the box in her hands and realized the woman was Billy’s grandmother. “But she said… ” Hannah closed her mouth. She had to think about this before she said anything to Donovan.

  “What did she say?… Hannah? What’s wrong?”

  She handed Donovan the package and went into the study. She had a sister? Monique sold a baby to that woman? Was Maggie her sister? Hannah leaned her elbows on the desk and lowered her face into her hands. Dear God. If it was true, Donovan’s wife was her sister. His wife, the one he grew to hate, was her sister. Billy was her nephew, and he hated his mother. So did Pop. And Donovan… How could she tell Donovan she was Maggie’s sister? If he started comparing them, it could ruin everything between them.

  Maybe the woman was lying. Yet, why would she lie? Why would she tell her something like this?

  Pop came into the study and closed the door behind him. “I heard.”

  Hannah’s hands dropped to the desk. “Is it true?”

  “I don’t know, Hannah. It’s possible, I suppose. Charlie did some digging into Monique’s background when he discovered she’d lied about being pregnant. Her birth name was Monica, but she changed it to Monique. Maggie was Donovan’s age, so—”

  “I’m five years younger than Donovan, and my mother was twenty when I was born.
” She stared at Pop. “Do I resemble Maggie at all?”

  “She was smaller, blonde and delicate, with blue eyes, but your features are similar. Monique has blue eyes, doesn’t she?”

  “Yes. She’s smaller than me, and her hair color has come from a box or beautician since I can remember.”

  Pop sat in one of Grandpa’s wing back chairs beside the fireplace. “Charlie was about my size, and he had black hair and gray eyes, like you. If Monique had a baby when she was a teenager, it was with a different father. Charlie was quite a bit older than your mother, and he wouldn’t have touched a kid that way. As it was, he thought Monique was older. She told him she was twenty-five, when she was only nineteen.”

  “What did Eleanor Goodman’s husband look like?”

  “He was a little guy, with hair so blond it was almost white. Pale blue eyes.” Understanding shone in Pop’s eyes. “Damn. Now I know why that woman hates men so much. Maggie looked so much like William, she had to be his.”

  Hannah leaned back and stared at the desk without seeing anything. “If I’m Maggie’s sister, Donovan will—”

  “It won’t make any difference to him, Hannah. You’re nothing like Maggie or Monique. You’re more like Charlie, and he was a great guy.”

  “Why would Eleanor tell me that?”

  “She’d do anything to hurt Donovan. She’s always hated him. I don’t think any man would have been good enough for Eleanor’s daughter.”

  “What do you know about William?”

  “He was a whole lot easier to get along with than Eleanor. William was a wealthy man, inherited a bundle from his parents. Eleanor’s family had money, too. She has a big monstrosity of a house a few blocks from here. Ugliest house I’ve ever seen, like something out of a horror movie.”

  Hannah had a sister she’d never met, a sister who was married to the man Hannah loved. “I wish I’d known before Maggie died.” She looked at Pop. “How many more babies did Monique have?”

  He shrugged. “Who knows. Our first two were eleven months apart. Donovan came along a few years later. I just know you’re the only baby Monique kept.”