by N. M. Howell
“Come to think of it,” Mrs. Littleton said quietly from behind us. “I do remember a young man walking through the fields earlier in the day, before leaving for Brimstone Bay.”
I sat bolt upright. “Do you actually?”
She nodded. “It wasn’t out of the norm, though. People often cut through our farm to get to the town.”
“Could you see what he looked like?” Jane asked.
Mrs. Littleton shook her head. “I wasn’t wearing my glasses. I think he was wearing a hooded jacket, though. I couldn’t see his face.”
I collapsed back on the couch and looked around at my housemates.
“So, now what? How do we figure out who we saw in the flames?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I think it’s safe to say you shouldn’t wear that outfit ever again,” Rory said.
“As if eliminating an outfit will prevent a prophecy from coming true,” I said.
“It’s a magic prophecy, River,” Bailey said. “You never know what it means until it happens.”
I rubbed my eyes, the weight of the day’s events finally crashing down on me, hard.
“I need to sleep,” I said. “Can we finish this over breakfast?”
I yawned and closed my eyes, and drifted off to sleep on the couch.
17
I woke up to a loud banging noise in the morning and jumped up in panic.
“What’s going on?” I asked sleepily. My shoulders popped as I stretched, and I was stiff from sleeping awkwardly on the couch. Soot had curled up on my legs, and I scratched his ears as he purred against me.
Bailey was awake, standing next to one of the small windows facing the front yard.
“Mrs. Brody is throwing things at people in front of the house,” she sounded incredulous, as if she didn’t believe what she was saying.
“What?” I got up to see what she was talking about.
Mrs. Brody was outside in her same pink nightgown, picking up twigs from the lawn and throwing them at the crowd of people who had gathered in front of the house.
“What the hell is she doing?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but I think she’s finally lost it.”
“What’s happening?” A tired-sounding Rory emerged from her bedroom. “What happened?” she repeated, yawning audibly.
“Mrs. Brody is putting on a show,” I said.
Jane then came out of her room and joined us all at the front window. We watched Mrs. Brody shouting and waving the crowd away for a few minutes, throwing clumps of dirt and plants at them from the front yard. A few people had their cameras out and were taking pictures. That seemed to aggravate her even more, and she picked up a small rock and threw it at one of the camera-wielding onlookers. Luckily she missed.
“We had better go down and see what’s going on,” Rory said.
“Man, too bad I have to live with her,” I laughed. “This would make a great story for the paper.”
“Crazy pink-haired lady attacks tourists with garden trimmings,” Jane laughed.
I was the only one fully dressed, still wearing last night’s clothes, so I went down to see what was going on while the others got dressed.
“Mrs. Brody,” I called from the front door. “Could you please come here for a moment.”
I could hear her make a hmph noise, but she dropped her sticks and stormed back to the house.
I raised my eyebrow curiously at her as she stomped up the stairs, her cheeks smudged with dirt from the garden. I suppressed a laugh as best I could, so as to not piss her off any more than she already seemed to be.
“Seems word got out that I was arrested last night,” she cried, her voice shrill with annoyance. “Everybody wants to come see the little old lady who got away with murder.”
“Seriously?” I asked. “How did they find out this is where you live?”
She shrugged. “Someone must have seen the police cars come around last night.”
“Either way,” I said. “We’ve got protective spells around the property, remember? No one can get past the property line that we don’t know.”
“Yes, yes,” she said, tossing the clumps of garden trimmings aside that she still had in her hands. She wiped her filthy hands on her nightgown and then sighed loudly, looking back at the crowd standing on the sidewalk.
“Let’s have breakfast, shall we?” I asked. “We could all use some down time.”
“Fine, but don’t think I’m cooking a big meal for you lot,” she snapped at me, then led the way into the house.
The girls joined us downstairs in Mrs. Brody’s kitchen not long after, accompanied by Mr. and Mrs. Littleton and Jessica, followed not far behind by Soot.
I started digging through the cabinets looking for something to cook but was quickly ushered away by an exasperated Mrs. Brody.
“Oh, shoo,” she said, waving me away with a dirty hand. “I’ve got this. Sit down, dear.”
After a few minutes, the kitchen became very crowded as Mr. Richards and a few of his friends showed up. I guess it didn’t take long for word to spread about there being new ghosts in town, and the crowd outside must have sparked a few questions.
“Busy day you’re having,” one of the new ghosts said conversationally. “Well, well, who have we here?”
He approached Mr. and Mrs. Littleton and introduced himself, “Gary Rotterdam, a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
The ghosts started chatting amongst themselves and moved to the living room, graciously giving us space.
“You look absolutely appalling,” Mr. Richards said to Mrs. Brody. “What on earth have you done with yourself?”
Mrs. Brody didn’t answer but waved her hand in the general direction of the front of the house as she continued preparing breakfast. The smell of pancakes started wafting from the oven, and my stomach made a grumbling noise.
“I’ll make coffee,” I offered, and got up go busy myself with the task.
“Apparently, there are new ghosts in town,” Mr. Richards said conversationally to the room.
I turned to face him. “What do you mean? How new?”
“Newer than these three,” he said, motioning towards the living room.
“Where?”
“Where else? The haunted house.”
I eyed him suspiciously, unsure if he was being truthful or simply stirring the pot.
I then made up my mind. “I have to go see.”
“Not this instant, missy,” Mrs. Brody said, waving her finger at me. “First, you eat, then you go play with ghosts.”
I sighed. “Fine, but only because I’m starving.”
I devoured breakfast, eager to go to the haunted house for a visit. I hadn’t heard word of another murder, so I suspected Mr. Richards was either messing with us for the hell of it or maybe just talking about the ghosts who I had initially seen at the haunted house when it first opened. My guess was the latter, but you couldn’t be too sure.
“Thanks so much for the breakfast, Mrs. Brody,” I said, wiping syrup from my lips. “Sorry to eat and run.”
“We’re coming with you,” Bailey said, and she and the girls quickly finished their plates and moved to follow me.
“I’m fine on my own,” I said, really preferring to go investigate by myself.
“Not after seeing you as a victim last night, River,” Bailey said. “Until the killer is caught, you don’t get the luxury of being alone.”
Dammit, I wasn’t going to get any peace until this whole thing was over.
“Alright well, let’s get this thing figured out then,” I said.
“I’ll drive,” Rory offered. She was the only one with a car, and I was grateful that we wouldn’t have to walk through town with all the tourists.
Luckily we found parking nearby, and we only had to walk a block to the haunted house. A crowd had gathered around it, and I saw a few familiar faces nearby.
“Dammit,” I muttered under my breath.
“Hi River,” an eager voice called fro
m behind the crowd. Roger came running up to us, a broad smile on his face.
“I thought you had gone back home,” I said to him.
He shook his head. “Nope, not until next week.”
Great, just what I needed. More company.
“Hi River,” I heard another voice call out.
“Seriously?”
Ryan and his friends were walking towards us, and I noticed Bailey had a giant smile on her face.
“Hi Ryan,” she said as they approached.
“Hey Bailey,” he said to her, then turned his attention back to me. “What are you guys doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“Just checking out the house,” he said. “It’s become a bit of a hot spot since the murder.”
“I can see that,” I looked around at the growing crowd, then glanced back at Bailey and the girls. We had no hope of looking for ghosts through this crowd.
“They even put the coffins back that the other bodies were found in,” Roger said eagerly.
“You’re kidding,” I said. I couldn’t believe that. But then again, if it was good for business…
“Well, we’re not staying,” I said. “We were actually just passing by.”
“Great, us too,” Jordan said. “Why don’t we all grab a coffee?”
“That sounds great,” Bailey said quickly before I had a chance to refuse the invitation. “We could all use a coffee, I’m sure.”
I shot her a stink eye, but she didn’t notice.
“I’ve gotta get back,” Roger said to no one in particular. “My aunt will be expecting me.”
“Okay Roger, see you later,” I said to him, as he ran off. At least that’s one less person to deal with.
The seven of us walked off together towards the café, Bailey trying to strike up a conversation with Ryan the whole way. The poor girl was met with one-word answers, but to her credit she pushed on, trying desperately to keep the conversation alive.
“Why were you guys lurking around the haunted house?” I asked Jordan as he walked up next to me. “You’ve seen it before, nothing new there.”
He shrugged. “No, but it seems more interesting now that everyone else is interested in it.”
I raised my eyebrow. “That’s stupid.”
He shrugged again.
I really didn’t trust the guy, but felt comfortable enough with him in a public place surrounded by people I knew. Still, I tried to keep my distance.
We walked past the two coffins that had been returned.
“I can’t believe they actually put the coffins back,” Bailey said to Ryan. “Why do you think they did that?”
“Dunno,” Ryan said quietly, refusing to even look in the direction of the coffins. Man, the poor girl was drowning.
The café was packed, but Ryan led us into the back room that they reserved for special occasions. “I’ll bring us some coffees.” He left to go help his dad at the front counter.
“The cops any closer to solving the murder?” Jordan asked me as we all sat down around a long table.
“How would I know?” I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally.
“I’ve seen you with the sheriff,” he responded. “I assumed you were involved in it.”
He seemed far too interested in this for my liking and asked far too many questions.
“Just for the paper.”
Rory recognized that I really wasn’t having a good time talking to the guy, so she stepped in and started asking questions about Boston. Bless her, she always knew how to act in situations like this. I was hopeless when it came to this sort of thing.
Ryan came back a while later with a tray of coffees and sat them down in front of us.
“And a Triple Americano, black, for the girl who hates lattes,” he said to me as he passed me my coffee.
I could feel Jordan’s eyes on me, but I very intently refused to meet his gaze. I gave Ryan a chastising look but then muttered a “thank you” for my coffee.
I knew for a fact he just said that because he saw Jordan and me having coffee together the other day.
Ryan pulled up a chair and sat at the far end of the room, facing us.
“Scared we’ll bite?” I said to him, laughing.
“Just want to be ready if my dad needs me,” he mumbled.
“So guys, when do you head back to Boston?” Rory asked, drawing the attention away from Ryan.
“Probably this weekend,” Jordan said. “But not confirmed yet.”
He glanced at his friend who grunted and looked away.
“Not much of a talker, are ya?” I said to him. He ignored me, and I rolled my eyes. This guy was a class-A douche bag if I did say so myself.
“So who do you guys think did it?” Jordan asked, bringing the conversation back to the murders. “What kind of person would carve a pagan symbol into a dead body?”
I really wanted to know why he was so obsessed with this murder.
“Witches,” Ryan spat.
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Witches? Really?” I laughed at him, and his face turned a brilliant shade of red. He stared down at his feet and sipped his coffee, shrugging at me. “Didn’t think you believed in that stuff.”
He shrugged. “Who else would do such a thing? It’s dark and gruesome, no regular person would do something like this.”
“Come on man,” Jordan said. “Probably just some prankster asshole trying to make a name for himself as some sort of pagan serial killer. Bastard probably wants a movie made after him.”
“He’ll probably get one,” Rory said. “Or she.”
“That’s the last thing we need,” I said. I eyed Ryan as he sipped his coffee. I didn’t realize the murders had gotten to him so much.
“You didn’t know the victims, did you?” I asked Ryan, curious if that’s why he was so upset over this.
He shook his head. “No, it’s just that I find it terrifying. Who knows what dark magic is out there. We should all be careful.”
Both of his friends laughed at him at that point.
“Dude, don’t be ridiculous,” Jordan said. “I think the festival has gotten to your head.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“How does anyone catch a murderer, anyway? There’s an entire world they could be hiding in, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack” Jordan asked me, really not wanting to let this topic go.
“You’re right, and often they don’t get found,” I said. “But I suppose, to start you would retrace their steps. Follow the sites of the murders, that sort of thing, and hope that the murderer left something behind.”
Ryan was fidgeting with his coffee lid. “You watch too much CSI.”
“Yeah, maybe,” I offered. “But if there’s one thing you learn from those shows, is that everybody makes mistakes.”
“Why don’t we change the subject,” Bailey suggested, recognizing Ryan’s discomfort.
The topic was switched to baseball, something I was so absolutely not interested in.
The amount of work I had to do started nagging the back of my mind, and I felt I really should leave to prepare my articles for the week. I’ve really enjoyed the excuses not to coop myself up in the office with Zack, but the idea of staying down here with these two guys appealed to me even less. Sure, Jordan was deliriously good-looking and seemed to like me, unlike Zack who was an arrogant asshole who treated me like a petulant little child, but at the moment my job and Zack won out.
I looked at my phone then said, “Look, guys, I really should get to the office. I have lots of work to do.”
Bailey smiled. “Okay, don’t work too hard. Call me when you’re done, and we’ll walk home together.”
“Sure thing,” I said. “Thanks for the coffee, Ryan.”
“Ryan, why don’t you come sit here,” Bailey said as I cleared the seat next to her.
“Can’t, gotta help my dad.” He then walked out of the room without saying another word.
Bailey raise
d her eyebrow at me, and I shrugged in response, then waved goodbye to the rest of the group.
“Hope to see you soon,” Jordan said to me.
I pretended not to hear him as I walked out of the café.
18
Later that night the girls and I were hanging out on the back porch. It was a warm evening, and we wanted to enjoy the beautiful weather while we could. Soon it would be too cold to hang out outside, and we would be cooped up in the house all winter.
“You know, we really need to solve this case before the entire town believes they were murdered by witches,” I said, staring off into the bay on the other side of our back yard. It really was a beautiful view, and it had been a solid week since I had enough time to go for a run. I really missed the waterfront.
“Do you think it could actually have been witches?” Jane asked.
I shook my head. “No, I really don’t think so. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Well whoever it is, I really hope they get caught soon. I don’t know how much longer I can live on edge like this,” Rory said. “Knowing any one of us could be next, it just freaks me out. I can’t sleep.”
“We just really need Jessica and Mr. and Mrs. Littleton to remember more about their murders,” I said. I had no idea how we were going to manage that, given the fact that none of them seemed to remember anything from the actual events.
“You could try bringing the ghosts back to where they were murdered,” Bailey suggested.
“Not really, because we don’t know exactly where they happened,” I said. “They were driving on their way here, and there’s no way we will be able to get them to their vehicles without raising suspicion.”
“What about bringing them back to where their bodies were left?” Rory asked. “The killer would have obviously been there with them. Maybe their ghosts were there as well, they just don’t remember because they were so new.”
“That’s actually an excellent idea,” I said. “Do any of you know how long it takes for a person to come back as a spirit after they die?”
“No idea, but I know someone who would,” Rory said, pulling herself out of the hammock hanging from the porch above. “Let’s go inside.”
