A Prickly Predicament (Mad River Mystery Series Book 1)

by Constance Barker

  “I’m planning to do that, but there may be more evidence. I’d like to pull it all together before I turn it over to him.” While I had hinted to Nick that the police might want to search the trash bins behind the stores in Mad River Old Town, I hadn’t told him what I had told Harriet, that what he would find would be six sawed-off screw heads, pretty clear evidence that a living human, not a spirit, had set the logging saws to fall. Maybe I should tell him, I thought, but I wanted to wait and see what other evidence my ghost friends could find.

  I checked in with Matt right after lunch. He seemed to be having a crazy day of his own. “I’ll be at the general store if you need me,” I told him. He nodded absently and I left him to his phone calls and emails. The crowd in the street was even larger than it had been that morning, and Harriet was right. The mood was ugly. Reverend O’Dell and Wendy stood together on one of the wood-plank porches, purposely working Mad River’s citizenry into a froth.

  Hardly anyone was in the general store that day. All of Mad River, it seemed, was out in the streets in front of the Old Town stores. Absently, my mind going a mile a minute, I wandered into the general store’s section for modern hardware, nodding in Harriet’s direction as I passed the counter where she stood ringing up a customer.

  Once the historic store’s old counting office, the hardware section gleamed with bins of pipes, tools, nails, and screws. I was looking for clues, of course, although I didn’t actually expect to find any back there. It’s just that I didn’t want to leave any stone unturned, and I was at a loss as to what to do next. I was pretty sure the police investigators had gone over this area meticulously, so I was probably wasting my time. But maybe, I thought, just maybe they had missed something.

  One of the things I noticed right away was that all of the bins were neatly, almost perfectly, organized. What I mean by that is that all of the nails in a particular bin, for instance, were exactly the same as all the other nails in that bin, and all were pointed in the same direction. The bins themselves were adjusted so that each was the perfect length and width for the item it held. It figures, I thought. Harriet took care of the inventory in this room. It would be just like her to make sure everything was perfectly tidy. Just as our kitchen at home was always perfectly arranged if Harriet had anything to say about it, so was the inventory in Mad River’s general store. Every product in the modern hardware section was displayed in a manner that was perfectly neat, perfectly aligned, and in a bin of the perfect size for that product.

  And so I carefully rifled through bins of nails and screws and pipes and other hardware items, and just as carefully I replaced them all again, so as to leave everything just as I had found it. I smiled affectionately, promising myself I would rib Harriet about it later, just a little. All the same, because of my efforts to leave things as I found them, my search of the modern section took me almost an hour. I looked behind some things, over and under others. I pulled items large and small out of their bins or off their shelves and checked each one minutely. I picked up and handled front door knobs, knobs for cabinets, fasteners, hinges, brackets, screwdrivers, ratchets, sockets, wrenches, vises, and dozens of other items I whose names I didn’t know. Nothing.

  I was about to leave the modern section when my eye fell on a slender sliver of black that looked a little out of place among Harriet’s fastidious housekeeping. On closer inspection, I saw that it was a laser pen that was barely peeking out from under and behind one of Harriet’s neatly arranged bins. On the off chance it might be evidence, I refrained from touching it, but I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures, making sure the date and time stamp would show on the photos. So little of it showed that it could have easily gone unnoticed, as it apparently had been. Surely if the police investigators had seen it, I thought, they would have taken it in as evidence, right? Then I noticed something else in the bin of small hacksaws it had fallen behind.

  One of the saws in that bin was placed there at an angle that was almost imperceptibly different from the other saws it lay with. Hardly anyone else would have noticed, but as Harriet’s sister, I did. I looked more closely. Sure enough, it was not perfectly aligned with its mates. I looked closer and noticed minute metal fragments clinging to some of the teeth on its blade. Had that saw been used to cut something made of metal—some screws, perhaps?—and afterward replaced in its bin by someone whose eyes were not trained to notice the beautiful perfection that came from Harriet’s mind and hands? I photographed it with my phone, zooming in to catch the gleam of the almost-microscopic metal shavings on its teeth and carefully refraining from touching it.

  When I finally made my way out to the front of the general store, not only had a few customers come inside, but the curious, too, now wandered among the shelves and stacks. I wandered with the best of them, not that there was all that much wandering a person could do inside the smallish general store, but I still had some time to kill. I had seen all the shelves with their myriad items for sale hundreds of times. This time, though, my eyes were focused on something new: anything that might seem ever-so-slightly out of place. Newly encouraged by my recent finds, I now noticed, as I hadn’t before, how neatly all the items in the historic section were displayed. Except for where customers and browsers had handled things, everything was perfectly aligned and beautifully ordered, just as the modern section was.

  I could see all of my ghost friends nervously watching from all over the store. They were up in the rafters, down near the floorboards, floating in and out among the shelving and the stacks of goods for sale, even drifting around and through the living humans who unknowingly shared the store with them. I knew that as well as watching, they were searching as I was, searching for evidence, searching for clues.

  As far as I could tell, they went completely unnoticed by everyone but me, and I pretended not to see or hear them. There were too many people around me, and I didn’t want to draw attention to my paranormal skills, especially given the mood, a potent cocktail of fear and anger. If we didn’t find a human killer soon to take the spotlight off the ghosts, Revered O’Dell would begin his exorcism and my friends would be banished from the only homes they had ever known. A panicky feeling began to overtake me at the thought. Time was running out.

  I thought through the clues as I knew them: six sawed-off screw heads, a slightly out-of-place hacksaw with metal fragments stuck on its teeth, and an enigmatic laser pen. I didn’t want to go to Nick with such flimsy evidence, but I just might have to, I thought. The exorcism wasn’t scheduled to start for several more hours, thank goodness, as the dark of night was an absolute necessity in Reverend O’Dell’s opinion. I decided to wait a bit before going to Nick with what I had. Surely, something else would turn up soon.

  On a sudden hunch, I ducked back into the Mad River Old Town business office and booted my computer back up. Matt’s office door was closed, but I could hear him tapping on his keyboard, and I heard his voice from time to time, talking with someone or other on the phone. I had a feeling he was almost as upset about the impending exorcism as I was. Maybe he was afraid that instead of drawing spectators and civil customers to our next reenactment season, only crazy-eyed spirit slayers would descend on Mad River, a reasonable fear, in my opinion.

  Internet searches on both Adam and Nathan, as well as on their show, turned up mountains of material, so much that it was overwhelming. I started to think that once again I was wasting my time. Their show alone came up multiple times all over the internet, not only in video formats complete with rave reviews from their adoring fans, but also on a more erudite website, where I learned that Nathan was credited with the invention of a piece of widely used ghost hunting equipment. Social media, too, led me down some fairly interesting paths. Adam, as might be expected, appeared to have been pretty active on several social media sites, while Nathan seemed to be more reticent to make his already public life all that much more public. I did find several photos of both men but nothing that gave me anything as conclusive as I would have
liked.

  Chapter Ten: The Exorcism

  Harriet had told me earlier that Reverend O’Dell wanted to have a few witnesses for the exorcism—he wanted lots of talk about it in town afterwards, I supposed—but too many people filling the space would spoil it, he insisted. So at five o’clock Harriet started politely shooing customers toward the front door. By five-thirty only Harriet, George, Annabelle, Jimmy Gordon, Nathan, Wendy, Eliana, Calinda, Matt, Nick, Reverend O’Dell, and I were left inside the store. Besides the fact that he sported a large bandage over his left eye, Nathan appeared to be in good health and even finer spirits.

  Eliana was dressed all in skin-tight white, à la Dolly Parton. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m one of Ms. Parton’s biggest fans, and I had to admit the outfit played well against Eliana’s luminescent skin and light coloring, although the shimmering gems on Eliana’s outfit and those sparkling from her earlobes, throat, and wrists were most likely rhinestones and cubic zirconia, not real diamonds as Dolly would have worn. Eliana’s daddy didn’t have that kind of money, and neither did her former husband.

  As soon as all the customers had left, Reverend O’Dell immediately began setting up for the exorcism, and Nathan set up his cameras and other recording equipment, so as not to miss capturing on videotape a single threatened spirit. I felt my armpits grow damp. Think, Shelby, think! I told myself, but like a jigsaw puzzle with one missing piece, the mystery around Adam Gaunt’s grisly death remained unsolved in my mind. Things refused to click squarely into place.

  My spirit friends had all assured me that no evil spirits lurked among them. They would know, they insisted, but I still wondered about that. Maybe Nathan would have some suggestions as to how to go about looking for such an entity, I thought. Since I was standing near him, I decided to ask him. “Nathan,” I said, “do you think it was some kind of evil spirit that killed Adam, or just an ordinary ghost?”

  “Oh, it was definitely a ghost. You saw the video I captured of Adam’s killing, with the ghost streaking upward right after.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Who could forget that?” I didn’t mention to him that I doubted the veracity of his video. “But besides video, are there other methods for detecting evil spirits?” I asked.

  “Oh, sure,” he assured me. “Lots of ways.”

  “Tell me about them,” I encouraged.

  “You’re really interested, aren’t you?” He seemed pleased to have a willing student. “The best and the simplest is a laser grid projector like this one.” He pulled a laser pen out of his bag, similar to the one I had so recently found in the hardware section. If he saw the surprised look I must surely have had on my face, he ignored it.

  “A laser pen?” I asked.

  “Yes, but this one is different,” he said.

  “How so?”

  “Well, it projects a grid, dots of green light, instead of the single red ray that an ordinary laser pen projects. Watch.” He aimed the pen at the nearest wall and clicked it on, and an area on the wall was immediately covered with bright green dots in a grid. “When a ghost or other paranormal entity crosses that grid,” he explained, “it interrupts the pattern of the grid. That’s how we can ‘see’ ghosts.”

  “But what about evil spirits? Aren’t they different from ghosts?”

  “Yes, you’re right about that. Very perceptive.”

  “I’m wondering about the difference. Can you explain?”

  “Most people don’t get these distinctions,” he said. He seemed pleased to have someone with whom he could share his expertise, and he launched into a lengthy discussion about demons and a host of other malicious entities. I was surprised. None of the ghosts I knew was as dangerous as the beings he described. I began to wonder if perhaps some of what Nathan appeared to believe was just fearful superstition, and not real at all.

  Realizing that I wasn’t getting information that would help me with finding Adam Gaunt’s killer, I interrupted. “Nathan,” I said, “can you think of any living person who might have wanted Adam Gaunt dead?”

  Nathan smiled a bitter smile. “Only a few dozen men in the tri-county area.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, just those men whose wives or girlfriends Adam Gaunt seduced and then discarded,” he said.

  “I see.” That certainly broadens the field, I thought: elusive evil spirits and dozens of cuckolded husbands and boyfriends. And I had less than an hour to narrow that field down to a single guilty party. I glanced toward the store’s front windows and out into the street outside, where darkness gathered. “Have you seen any of those men around here, Nathan?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed.

  He laughed sardonically. “I certainly wouldn’t know them all,” he said. “Women flocked to Adam like pigeons to an old woman in the park with bread crumbs.”

  “You seem bitter.”

  “I’d rather not talk about it,” he said.

  “I understand,” I told him. “I know this is a difficult time for you. Thanks for the information.” Too much information, I thought to myself. The pieces of that jigsaw puzzle were widely scattered all around me. I was sure that what I was looking for was right in front of me, but which piece—out of all those pieces—was the one I really needed to bring it all together? Feeling overwhelmed, I walked slowly through the store, trying to think things through.

  “Matt, you worry too much,” Annabelle was saying. She and Matt stood together near one of the stacks of livestock feed. “What we’re doing tonight is just a precaution. It won’t drive business away. You’ll see.”

  “I’m not so sure,” he said. “I beginning to regret ever allowing those two jokers to come here. We’ll be overrun next spring with wackos and nut jobs instead of paying customers, mark my words.”

  I could see that Calinda, standing near them, was just bursting to say, “I told you so,” but to her enormous credit, she held her tongue. The effort it took her was obvious on her face. She glanced my way and gave me a wry smile as I slipped into the back room.

  It was when I had reached the very back of the building that I saw Adam, hovering over a bin of cleaning supplies. “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

  “Same thing as you, I imagine,” he said. “Looking for evidence.”

  “Have you found anything?”

  “Nothing more than you’ve found,” he said. “I’m as confused as you are.”

  “So you’re getting the hang of reading minds now?”

  “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But not everyone’s, and not all the time. And certainly not Nathan’s.”

  “Hmmmm,” I said. “That’s interesting. Have you had any luck with getting through to Nathan in other ways?” I asked.

  “No luck at all,” he answered.

  “That’s too bad,” I said. I really felt sorry for him. It was a shame that his old partner was so insensitive. “Listen, Adam, I just remembered something I’ve been meaning to ask you about.”

  “What is it?”

  “I was just wondering if videotape can be, well, you know, um, doctored.”

  “Of course it can. That’s the easiest thing in the world to do.”

  “And Nathan knows how to do that, right?”

  “Of course he does. He’s masterful at it. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering, is all.” I thought for a moment. “Adam, I’d like to ask you one more question,” I said.

  “Go ahead,” he said.

  “Can you think of anyone who was angry enough with you to kill you?”

  “I was a pretty nice guy,” he protested.

  “I’m not saying you weren’t,” I hedged, “but I just can’t make sense of things at the moment.”

  “A couple of times Nathan got mad at me,” he admitted, “but he always got over it.”

  “Why would he get mad at you?” I asked.

  “Oh, you know, mostly little things,” Adam said. “We were friends for most of our lives. I guess I just got under his skin from time to time.”

/>   “Do you think—?” I started.

  “I see where you’re going with this,” he interrupted vehemently. “Absolutely not. There is no way in the world Nathan would have wanted to kill me. He needed me.”

  “All right then,” I told him, “but let me know if you get any sudden insights.”

  What am I missing? I asked myself. I went back out to the front section of the store again and sidled over to where Nick and Nathan stood talking quietly. Jimmy also stood nearby, and Adam, I noticed, now hovered very near Nathan. Was he, too, beginning to suspect what I suspected, despite his recent protests?

  Not that I was snooping or anything, but I was trying to listen in on Nick and Nathan’s conversation. However, it was a feminine voice that caught my attention at that moment. “How’s Nancy doing, Jimmy?” Wendy asked.

  “Oh, all right,” he answered, then chuckled. “She says she doesn’t look good in orange,”

  “Well, no, I don’t imagine she does,” agreed Wendy thoughtfully, as if they were discussing a dress Jimmy’s wife had tried on in one of Mad River’s boutiques, and not the county-issued jumpsuit she was now required to wear. “When is her trial scheduled to start?” she asked.

  “Not for a couple of months,” he replied. He absently picked his teeth with a toothpick. “I see her every weekend,” he added.

  “And in the meantime, Jimmy and me have us some good old times, don’t we, Jimmy?” George Foster playfully punched Jimmy’s scrawny upper arm with a beefy fist and laughed loudly. Everyone knew that Nancy had kept Jimmy on a pretty short leash, but now that she was in jail, Jimmy seemed to be enjoying a little freedom. I wasn’t so sure it was a good thing for him. I was pretty sure I smelled alcohol on both George and Jimmy. Jimmy grinned broadly and rubbed his arm where George had punched him.

  Reverend O’Dell had whirled at the sound of George’s raucous laughter and tried to quiet him with a glare, but George appeared not to see it. Sighing loudly, the good reverend got back to the business of preparing for the exorcism. He set out a multitude of white candles in various locations all over the store, including in the back room, the large kind of candles people use when the power goes out, not fancy tapers, the kind that can burn for hours. I assumed that meant the exorcism could take a while.