Pressing the bag to my forehead, I padded to the door and opened it, surprised to see two police cars in my narrow driveway. “May I help you?”
“Carrie Jo Stuart?”
“Yes?” I asked cautiously. I was getting a bad feeling about this.
“May we come in?”
“Um, sure.”
The young officer stepped in, his silent partner behind him. “As I said, I am Officer Stone, and this is my partner, Officer Davies. We’re here following up on a report we’ve received from a Miss Stevenson. Apparently you assaulted her earlier, and the victim is pressing charges against you. Would you mind coming with me?”
Was he kidding me? “Yes! I would mind coming with you! Look at my head. Did Miss Stevenson happen to tell you where this alleged assault took place? Here—in my house! I’m afraid Miss Stevenson isn’t telling the whole truth, Officer.”
“She says she came to the house at the request of your husband and together you two assaulted her. Miss Stevenson alleges that you punched her in the face when she refused your husband’s advances. I’d like to talk to him too. Do you know where I can find him?”
“What?” I gasped. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “That is disgusting! We aren’t freaks! She attacked me!”
Up until that moment I half believed Officer Davies was on my side. She wasn’t now, for sure. “Ma’am, husbands do a lot of things that wives don’t know about. I’m sure your husband is no exception. Now if we could just take that short ride, I am sure we can get this all straightened out.”
“You sure are sure about a lot, Officer. What you said might be true for a lot of husbands, but not mine. He’s gone to pick up our son from day care. He’ll be home in a few minutes. If you wouldn’t mind waiting, I am certain we can clear this all up. This is unbelievable!”
“We’ll wait, then. Do you need medical attention, Mrs. Stuart?”
I hadn’t planned on going to urgent care or anywhere else, but now that Libby was making such ridiculous allegations, I might as well get it all on record. “Yes, in fact that was where we were going when Ashland got home. If you don’t mind, I’d like to go change my clothes before we leave. Unless you think I’ll crawl out an upstairs window.” Officer Davies didn’t appreciate my sarcastic tone. She pushed her hat up and stared at me sternly. She had narrow brown eyes and a bad haircut. Some things a hat just couldn’t hide.
“Allegations of assault are no laughing matter, ma’am. We take these charges very seriously. I’ll be happy to escort you upstairs so you can change.”
I sat on my couch and pushed the ice pack to my head. “No thanks, I think I’ll skip that, but I would like my cell phone and my purse. It’s in the guest room. Just down the hall.” There you go, officer-lady. Fetch my stuff. Officer Davies left with a sneer and came back in less than ten seconds like she was going to miss the part where they beat me with rubber hoses. I pretended I didn’t notice that she’d rifled through my Michael Kors handbag. I picked up my cell phone and began tapping a message when she interrupted me.
“You make a habit of staying in your guest room, or do you hang out in there just on special occasions?” Her insinuation embarrassed her partner and me. Since it wasn’t really a question, I didn’t answer her. Officer Stone shuffled his feet and looked at the pictures of Ashland on the mantelpiece.
“Hey, I know him. That’s Ashland! I thought I recognized the name, but you can’t mistake his face, can you? I didn’t know he got married. Congratulations, ma’am.”
“Thanks,” I said, wincing as I adjusted the ice pack. “Shoot!”
“We used to play head-to-head during football season. I played quarterback for UMS. I can’t tell you how many times Stuart handed me my ass. I mean, roughed me up. Excuse me. Man, he was good. I wish I’d played half as well as he did. Everyone was sure he’d go to ’Bama or LSU.”
I smiled suddenly. “Are you Tim Stone? The guy with a head like a rock? Ashland has mentioned you a time or two before.”
Officer Stone stood proudly with his hands on his hips, rocking back and forth on his heels. He grinned even bigger, pointed at my head and said, “Yeah, no offense, but I’ve taken much bigger whacks to the head than that.”
“No offense taken.”
“Wow, it’s going to be good to see him. I mean, well, it would be.” Officer Davies gave him a warning look, but he ignored her. “If you don’t mind, may I sit?” I nodded, and he made himself comfortable in the oversize occasional chair beside me. Flipping out his notebook he said, “Maybe we can clear this up without putting y’all through the ringer, unless she absolutely insists on pressing charges. Can you tell me your side of the story?”
“I’m going out to wait on the husband,” Officer Davies said as she stomped out of the room.
“Fine. Now, Mrs. Stuart, tell me what happened. You came home and found them together?”
“No, I was already here. You see, Ashland and I are new parents, and I took baby AJ to day care.”
He slapped his leg and said, “No way! He’s a dad?”
“Pretty good one too. Anyway…” I told the officer the whole sordid story, and he scribbled down notes as I spoke.
“Stevenson…Stevenson…where do I know that name from?”
“Well, she’s Jeremy Stevenson’s sister, and Jeremy used to play ball with Ashland at Mercy. Maybe you know him from there?”
“Yeah, I remember that kid. He wasn’t as good as Ashland, but he wasn’t bad. Her I don’t remember at all, but that’s nothing surprising. I had a steady girl myself in school, so I wouldn’t have been looking around. You know, until today I would never have taken Ash as that kind of guy either.”
“He’s not at all.”
“Tim? What’s going on, buddy?” Ashland finally arrived, immediately looking protective but unsure of the current situation. No doubt he’d met the charismatic Officer Davies already. Baby Ashland slept on his shoulder. My head hurt, but I couldn’t resist holding baby AJ. It felt like I hadn’t seen him in three days. I kissed his puffy pink cheek and held him close. He was what my old friend Bette would have called a “lump of love.” I was so happy that he was sleeping through all this.
“Oh, nothing much. On the force now. Been with them for about three years. I see you’ve done pretty well. Gotten hitched, and you’re a dad. What’s this kiddo’s name again? AJ? Future quarterback, huh?” He touched the baby’s clenched fist and spoke softly to him. I could have liked this guy if he hadn’t threatened to lock us up for trying to assault Libby.
“No offense, Stone, but we can catch up later. Why do I have police cars in my driveway?”
“A Miss Stevenson filed a complaint against the two of you. I’m here to investigate and determine whether or not we should arrest y’all for, well, assault, for one thing.”
Ashland’s face said it all. Officer Stone kept talking, nervously explaining the allegations. He ended with an apology. “You know I’m just doing my job. If I had known it was you to begin with, I wouldn’t have been so hasty about stopping by, but there are a ton of Stuarts out this way. I’ll tell my partner there’s nothing to all this. I’m sure y’all can work it out without going to the courthouse.”
To my surprise my husband shook his head emphatically. For the first time in a long time, he swore too. “Hell no! I want to file a complaint against her. She behaved inappropriately, my wife called her on it, and Libby attacked her. Plain and simple. Carrie Jo was just defending herself. Before I could stop her, she knocked my wife out and ran out the door. I don’t have any idea how she got home or what she did after that. I had to pick up my son, and then I was going to take Carrie Jo to urgent care. Which I should do right now.”
“Actually, we’ve got an ambulance en route now, at your wife’s request.” His radio squawked to life. “What’s that?”
“Ambulance is here,” Davies croaked over the scratchy speaker.
“All right, can you walk okay, Mrs. Stuart?”
“Yes,
but please call me Carrie Jo.”
“Okay, let’s get you checked out, Carrie Jo. Then my partner and I will go pick up Miss Stevenson.” To Ashland he whispered, “You know how these attorneys are. She’s going to hit the roof when I arrest her. You sure you want to do that?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m not afraid of her.”
Officer Stone shook his head and walked me out to the ambulance. I handed baby AJ to my husband and let the paramedics poke on my head for a few minutes. Of course they wanted me to go to the hospital, and of course I refused.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Well, no sleeping for eight hours, but I’m pretty sure this little guy will make sure you stay awake.” The EMT smiled at baby AJ, who was now waking up and seemed very interested in what she was doing. “And you watch her, sir. If she gets the slightest bit nauseated or dizzy, march her up to the hospital. No arguments. A concussion is nothing to play with.”
The ambulance drove away, and we watched with relief as the police emptied out of our driveway. I wanted to wave at the neighbors who’d stepped outside to watch the hullabaloo, and I groaned as Astrid strutted our way. I heard Ashland sigh too.
Thank goodness Detra Ann and Henri drove up. Astrid turned awkwardly and went back to her house. For some reason she didn’t care for our best friends too much. Someday I’d find out why.
Chapter Eight – Rachel
It was Saturday afternoon, and I’d been helping Gran tidy up the garage. Mom was working double shifts at the diner, and helping out was the least I could do. I mean, we did live with her. She was finally giving up her collection of vinyl records, and we were busy sweeping the big empty space one last time.
“Yep, this is going to be perfect,” she said as she perused the near-empty garage.
I stashed the broom in the tiny broom closet and nosily flipped through the dusty records. Who the heck was Shaun Cassidy? Nope. Nope. Ooh…Sinatra. I might keep that one. “What’s perfect, Gran?”
“Your new apartment.”
“What?” I said with a laugh.
“This space is going to be yours. You’re a grown woman, and you need privacy. And I need the room you’re in. I’ve got plans.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. She was ditching her vinyls and making plans, all in one day? This was unheard of. I had to get to the bottom of it. “Gran, I can’t let you do that. And I’m perfectly happy with my room. If this is about me moving out…”
“I don’t want you to move out. I like having my family around, but I’m kicking you out of that room for two reasons. First, because you snore like a freight train and the wall between us is paper thin and secondly, because you are a young lady now and you need your privacy. You should be able to have someone over without worrying about the noise you two might make.”
“Gran! I would never.”
“Oh, please. I’m your grandmother. You don’t think I thought you and Big Ears were playing tiddlywinks in there, did you? Besides, how do you think you got here?”
“Yuck! Can we talk about something else?” She smiled wickedly and headed to the door that led into the house. “Renovating this room for me is too much. I can’t let you do that. Not for me.”
“Let me? I’ve got blue jeans older than you. I don’t need your permission, Rachel. It’s a done deal. The construction crew will be here Monday. They will have it all prettied up in a few days, and you’ll be good to go. You can even pick out the paint color. But for goodness’ sake, no purple. That color just irks me.” I knew why. It irked me too.
“All right, Gran. If you’re determined to do it.”
“I am. Now come inside and get your shower. You stink, and it’s almost time for your date.”
I smiled at her generosity. Sometimes she could be a real crank pot, and other times she did something like this. I loved Gran’s unpredictability. It drove my mother crazy, but I loved it. When I was a kid, I used to tell her, “I want to be you when I grow up.” I watched her walk away and said, “Hey! You never told me what you’re using the old room for.”
“No, I didn’t, did I?”
“Oh boy,” I said as I put Frank Sinatra’s record back in the bin and returned it to the pile. The Salvation Army truck would be here Monday to haul this stuff away. In a way, I was going to be a bit sad to see it all go, but when was I going to ride that bike again or play with that old dollhouse?
Dollhouse. That reminded me of Idlewood. There was one in the attic space. I wish I’d taken a look at it before I ran out of there like a scaredy cat. Gran was wrong, my date was two hours away, but I showered, changed and sat in front of my computer to kill some time.
I remembered the search engine Henri told me about. A few mouse clicks later, there I was on Haunted Web, the place to go when you wanted to track down a spirit. Or at least the reports on one. Then I remembered the promised list, opened the email from Henri and began scanning through the hits. Most were incomplete and some were copies or partial copies of useless reports with sketchy details. But there were some interesting things about the old house and its most troubled and famous family, the Fergusons. The article that drew my attention was the one that Henri mentioned in his email.
Idlewood Plantation in Mobile, Alabama, has many secrets—including the location of two Ferguson children who disappeared on or around the property in the 1870s following the death of their oldest sister, fifteen-year-old Tallulah Ferguson. The house has been closed to the public for many years, but older reports suggest the spirits of the ‘lost children’ manifest as shadowy figures in certain parts of the house, and the sounds of children crying have been said to “freeze your blood,” according to former employee Beatrice Overton.
I glanced at the publication date. Hmm…this was published in 2000. I wrote down the reporter’s name and a few other notes from the article. I scrolled down past the historical stuff—I had a good grasp on that. Was I jumping the gun here? Could my desire to be treated like an equal at the office be driving me to hunt for ghosts where there weren’t any? I frowned at the screen. The house might not even be haunted. Gran said that sometimes things followed you. Was it possible that “someone” from Seven Sisters followed us to Idlewood? I’d called Carrie Jo last night to tell about the power and give her an update on Mr. Taylor’s general attitude. She wasn’t too worried about it, and I decided to adopt her approach. And I decided not to tell her anything about the bloody handprint or anything else.
Here is the transcript from my interview with Beatrice Overton: “My employers, I don’t think they would like me to mention their names, they were very strict about what rooms we used. They didn’t like you to wander around too much because of all the work that needed to be done. In the beginning, we stayed only in the rooms at the front of the house, but they were young and quite handy with tools. Such a lovely couple. They had big plans and even got a grant from the city to restore Idlewood to her former glory. I really liked them. So thoughtful, and they didn’t mind that I had a son of my own. I didn’t do much at first except help the missus with her baby, bring them iced tea, prepare the meals, do some light gardening. That first year all was quiet, all was peaceful, but then they began work upstairs. Juliet—oh goodness. I wasn’t supposed to tell you her name. But I expect you could find out if you really wanted to anyway. Well, Juliet began to have disturbing episodes where she would cry for a solid hour. I couldn’t blame her. She was expecting their second child, but the pregnancy went wrong and she lost the baby. Yes, she cried so much then. And then the children would cry. It was like a blanket of gloom was tossed over the whole place.
“One afternoon, I heard her in her room. The second room on the left at the top of the stairs. Her husband, Mr. Gary, he had to go to Shreveport—I think he was glad to go because he couldn’t put a foot right. His mother passed away, and he had to clear out her old place. Well, Juliet was crying again, just sobbing like her poor old heart was broken in pieces. The baby, a precious little gem he was, he was tired
and ready to take his afternoon nap. I’d gotten his room nice and cool with the standing fan and laid him down to rest in his crib. I passed Juliet’s room again and heard her pitiful voice, crying over that baby. I heard her whispering, mumbling, and the sound of it made the hair stand up on my arms. I felt terrible but didn’t bother her. I had said all I could to cheer her. It was up to her now. I turned on the baby monitor, put it in my apron pocket and went about tidying the downstairs kitchen. About ten minutes later I heard a strange squeaking noise coming from the baby monitor, like someone was moving an old desk around. You know, one of those heavy ones that the schoolmarms used to sit behind. Maybe you don’t know. Life is different back in England. Well, just then, guess who walked in through the back door? Juliet! She was carrying a big basket full of vegetables. She scared me nearly out of my skin! That was when we heard the most terrible sound coming from the baby monitor. It was as if someone had turned the volume all the way up. It squealed like an old radio on the wrong station. Then it said her name!
“She dropped the basket, and those vegetables rolled everywhere. I remember those turnips were so large. They clunked on the floor like baby doll heads.” Ms. Overton shivered here.
“We ran up those stairs, taking them two by two, until we got to the boy’s room. His name was Christopher. Such a delightful, happy baby he was. We couldn’t get the door open at first, and Juliet and I screamed and banged on it. I don’t know why; the child couldn’t open it. But someone had to be in there! We could hear the furniture moving and heard this strange banging noise.
“Whack, whack, whack!
“All I could think about was the poor baby. That poor baby and those turnips. I don’t know why I thought about such a thing, but I did. Then the child began to cry for his mother, and the door opened. We fell into the room and saw the strangest thing. The crib had moved ten feet, and one side of the crib was up on the windowsill. Now let me tell you something: there is no way that baby could have done that. That sill was at least a foot off the floor. That baby, and he wasn’t even two yet, there was no way he could have crawled out of the crib, lifted it up onto the sill and crawled back in it. Someone had been trying to push that baby’s bed out the window! But there was no one else in that room. The glass was cracked, and the babe was inconsolable. So were we all! Juliet took that baby and left the house, and as far as I know she never came back. I stayed downstairs and only went back up when it came time to pack everything away. Now mind you, I didn’t stay there at night. I had a friend on Hunter Avenue. My boy and I spent three months on her couch until I helped Mr. Gary close up the house and he helped me find new employment. Oh, but it was a terrible thing. I never wanted to work in a big house like that again.”
The Ghosts of Idlewood Page 7
