by Etta Faire
Her phone rang, and as soon as she left to answer it, I saw my chance. I turned up the dark goop on the stove again then opened the fridge, something I didn’t normally do in Rosalie’s house, but I needed to find eggs or yeast, or hopefully both, so I could dilute the bird repellant and stop it from being used as a weapon.
I almost shut it again. Mr. Peters was right. This needed a serious cleaning.
Same as my fridge, there was hardly any food. But, unlike my fridge, the shelves were piled high with unidentifiable things fermenting in various bowls and jars.
One looked a little too much like a brain, another looked like a finger, but upon closer inspection, I was pretty sure it was a chunk of ginger root.
Dark glass vials lined the doors with labels so faded, I had no idea how Rosalie knew what anything was. But the weirdest thing was a lumpy purple blob sitting in a glass bowl, uncovered, on the bottom shelf like it had seeped out of a 50s horror movie and was now trapped in Rosalie’s fridge.
I closed the door and walked over to the entryway to the kitchen, listening to see if Rosalie was on the way back or if she was still talking.
“You want to surprise George with it? Well, aren’t you the sweetest? Patsy, he is gonna love it.” She paused. “No, your secret is safe with me. I know he does not want this to get out.”
I knew she had to be talking to Mrs. Carmichael, one of the waitresses at the Spoony River. Her first name was Patsy, and she was dating (but not openly dating) old George, the owner of the barbershop next door to the diner.
Opening the refrigerator door, I pinched my nose, even though there was no way I was going to be able to smell anything coming from the fridge that was stronger than the diapers already boiling at top speed on the stove.
I didn’t see anything that looked like eggs or yeast, but honestly, I would not have known yeast among the oddities in there.
I opened a crisper drawer, surprised to see small brown eggs. Grabbing two out, I checked the recipe again.
Unfortunately, it didn’t tell you a specific spot in the recipe to add eggs if you wanted to ruin things, so I had to improvise. But, like Mandy, that wasn’t my strong suit.
The goop on the stove smelled like it was on the verge of burning. Now was as good a time as any to dilute the mixture.
“Yep, we are making up a batch right now…” Rosalie continued on the phone, but her words were slowing, like she was starting to suspect something strange was happening in the kitchen.
I turned down the pot and quickly cracked an egg into the goop before she could figure things out, but her angry red face peeked around the corner into the kitchen and caught me.
As soon as the egg hit the mixture, a plume of black smoke rose from the stove in genie-type fashion. It sizzled into a smell that was not at all diluted. I’m pretty sure the egg was rotten. I coughed as the sulfur-smelling stench penetrated my mask, making my eyes water behind the goggles, which were really fogging up now.
I was pretty sure I had created tear gas.
“What in the world is going on in my damn kitchen. Patsy, I have got to go. Carly has lost her damn mind…” Rosalie sputtered into the phone.
The fire alarm whooped and blared overhead. A loud mechanical voice calmly told us, “Fire. Fire. Get out. Fire. Fire.”
Rosalie clicked off the phone and tossed it onto the counter.
After turning off the stove, she lifted the blinds on the window by the sink and opened the window.
Hot air burst into the room, making me realize the air conditioning really had been working.
Whoop! Whoop! Fire. Fire. Get out.
“Get the damn fire alarm,” she said, pointing up to the white plastic contraption on the ceiling. I grabbed a chair and pulled it down, yanking the batteries from their little compartment.
The noise finally stopped. Rosalie tossed the pot into the sink as I climbed off the chair.
“Do you mind telling me what in the hell is going on here?” she yelled.
I sucked in my lips and motioned around. “Mr. Peters was right. It’s much nicer with the blinds open.”
Smoke still circled through the kitchen as we both sat on opposite ends of her dinette table, masks down around our chins, while I explained about the shifters and the bird repellant being used as a weapon.
Rosalie had placed three desk fans in various spots in the kitchen to get rid of the smoke, but it wasn’t working.
I could tell by her face that she wasn’t buying my explanation. She didn’t believe in shifters.
“That is a noble excuse,” she said, after I was done explaining myself. “And let’s just say for the heck of it that this is true. That there’s a bird and bear war about to happen and the bears are buying the special blend bird repellant to use as a weapon against the birds. Let’s just pretend that sounds even a little bit sane.”
I looked down at my sandals. When she said it like that, it did sound far-fetched.
She pulled her graying dreadlocks into an uneven, lumpy bun. “But even if it is all true, honey, you can’t live your life trying to save everyone. Just think how crazy you’d make yourself if you tried to do that. If there really are shifters in Landover, then they have lived here a very long time, and they know how to take care of themselves. They do not need you to save them.”
I nodded. “I think we should be more responsible with the bird repellant, that’s all I’m saying. Only give it to people who have been attacked.”
“Like George?” she said. “I know you know about that because Patsy told me you were there. Old George was attacked months ago, but he didn’t want anyone to know about it. That’s why she wants some of the special blend, and I’m going to give her some. I think there are others like George, people just too afraid to say they’ve been attacked.”
I swallowed hard. I wanted to tell her not to give any to Mrs. Carmichael because she had no idea her not-boyfriend was a bird shifter. I didn’t say that, though, mostly because that would have sounded even more insane.
I took a deep breath, inhaling rotten egg fumes again. Rosalie was right. I couldn’t save everyone all the time, and I needed to stop putting the weight of Landover on my shoulders.
Rosalie went on. “People are just afraid of the birds, Carly. End of story. You, of all people, should understand that. I say it’s about the dollar signs, but the truth is, I like helping people. I helped you and Shelby Winehouse after your bird attacks and, even with the fake bird repellant that’s really nothing more than diluted essential oils, I’ve helped the rest of Landover feel just a little bit safer about the birds. It’s a false sense of security, but that’s still very important. And they smell much nicer.”
Rosalie checked her watch and stood. “We’ve gotta get going. It’s about time to open the Pony.” She rested her arm on my shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, we’ll keep an eye on who we sell to and how the special blend is being used. If it looks like it’s being abused, by anyone, we’ll pull it off the shelves.”
I smiled like that made me feel better. “So, you kind of believe me about the shifters, then?” I asked.
“Not in the slightest,” she replied, laughing so hard she had to steady herself on a chair. “But I believe that you believe it, and that’s good enough for me to change how I do things.”
I wondered if it really was.
Chapter 18
Shrugs
Mandy was nowhere to be found when I got home later that evening. And I was on time this time.
I plopped my Five-Dollar Chinese onto the dining table next to the interview papers that were still laying out, making me realize I had probably received a demerit or two for not cleaning up after myself.
But I scanned them while I waited for my channeling.
Ned’s interview was a few days later than Graham’s had been, and it was mostly just him bragging about himself and how busy he was.
OFFICER GILBERT: Please describe what you saw when you first arrived at the Lockes on the morning
of September 26th?
MR. REINHART: Like I said, I was staying at the Glaston in town. I wasn’t supposed to be back on the set until six. But, I knew that I wasn’t really needed until 6:30, so I was running a little late, and I got there about 6:20-ish. Give or take. Graham had been in charge of finding his wife and making sure she was ready to redo a scene before dawn. Mandy had a bad habit of being late for her scenes.
OFFICER GILBERT: You just said you were running late too.
MR. REINHART: I don’t wait for other people. They wait for me. But, as soon as I pulled down the Lockes’ long driveway, I could tell something was wrong.
OFFICER GILBERT: How did you know?
MR. REINHART: I heard screams as soon as I opened my door. It was like a horror movie. I ran toward them. Man, that’s when I saw it. Mandy on the floor of the shack. Film everywhere. Barry giving her mouth to mouth. I could hear an ambulance coming. The siren was growing louder. But we all knew they were coming for nothing. She was gone. Graham was trying to pick up the film to see if it was salvageable, but I told him it was evidence now. His wife had been murdered, for crying out loud, and he was just scooping up film and crying about it. That’s when I saw him uncover something pretty unusual.
OFFICER BELLINGS: Could you please describe what you saw?
MR. REINHART: It was one of those blue latex gloves like the kind doctors wear. And I saw it before the paramedics got there, so it wasn’t something they left behind. It was with the film. You get that glove, check for fingerprints, and you probably have your killer.
OFFICER GILBERT: We did not recover a blue plastic glove.
MR. REINHART: Then, somebody picked it up or threw it out.
OFFICER BELLINGS: We’ll ask around about it. But, things were pretty crazy in the shack. Could it have been film?
MR. REINHART: I have made more than ten blockbuster films. You don’t think I know film from a blue glove? I don’t have time for this.
I gasped as Jackson read over my shoulder.
“My, my. A blue glove. That sounds familiar,” he said.
“Crazy Hank was wearing blue gloves when he had Mandy sign the poster. He also somehow legally acquired Mandy’s outfit from that night… And he was never questioned.”
I scanned over the Lockes’ interview next since it was right there in front of me. It was shorter than you’d think an interview with suspects would have been. The police were also a lot more apologetic.
OFFICER BELLINGS: We just want to let you know this interview is being recorded. Thank you both for meeting with us. I know y’all are busy. We just need to tie up a few strings, and we’ll be on our way and out of your hair.
OFFICER GILBERT: What is your relationship with the deceased?
MR. LOCKE: Mandy Smalls was a good friend of ours from college. Graham, too.
MRS. LOCKE: Not so much in recent years…
MR. LOCKE: We just grew apart. That happens.
MRS. LOCKE: But they asked if they could use our house to make a movie. So, of course, we said yes. We always try to help. You know that about us, Glen.
OFFICER GILBERT: Tell us what you remember the morning when Mandy Smalls was found.
MR. LOCKE: Ruth was sleeping in…
MRS. LOCKE: And by sleeping in, he means 7:00. I usually let myself sleep until 7:00 on the weekends. I’m usually up at 5:00 weekdays, though. It’s the only way I can maintain my busy schedule.
MR. LOCKE: It was one of the last days of filming, or that’s what they told us, and I’ll just admit it, we were ready to get our house back to normal. I woke up early so I could sneak some time in at the office before we went to Ruth’s parents’ at ten. The kids were staying with them over in Mellerton, and we were all going to go hiking later. I was just getting dressed when I heard the screams coming from the backyard. They were women’s screams. I later found out it was one of the actresses, Somer Somebody.
OFFICER GILBERT: Do you remember what time that was?
MR. LOCKE: Must have been around six. I know that.
OFFICER GILBERT: What did you do next?
MR. LOCKE: I woke Ruth up. She got dressed, and we rushed downstairs.
MRS. LOCKE: Barry was pretty angry. He thought one of the crew had broken something, again. Or someone had drowned. We were so worried something was going to happen.
MR. LOCKE: Liability, you know. I had extra insurance, but I was still worried. That’s when we saw Graham. He staggered inside with Somer. They were yelling at us to call 911. Graham said Mandy had been murdered. Somer and Ruth stayed inside to call. I went back outside with Graham to see if Mandy might still be breathing. Graham said there wasn’t a pulse, but I still checked. There wasn’t one. Movie film was everywhere. Ruth and I are both trained in CPR, so I started mouth-to-mouth. Ruth came in at some point and helped. You guys arrived not too long after that. Paramedics got here soon after you guys. Probably ten minutes tops.
OFFICER BELLINGS: You saw film all over the floor. Anything else?
MRS. LOCKE: I thought I saw a blue glove, but I’m not sure. Could have been my imagination.
OFFICER BELLINGS: Or film. Could it have been film?
MRS. LOCKE: Yes, it was probably film.
MR. LOCKE: I also saw a champagne glass on the floor somewhere. Graham said they were waiting to break open the Dom Pérignon with us and Ned as soon as the film wrapped up. But, I guess, he noticed after Mandy’s death that she had opened it in the guest house early. Had her own little party with it that night.
OFFICER GILBERT: Any idea what she was celebrating?
MR. LOCKE: No idea.
OFFICER BELLINGS: So she didn’t drink it with you?
MR. LOCKE: No. We went to sleep. I never even knew she was there that night.
OFFICER BELLINGS: And, you didn’t hear anything between the hours of 3:00 a.m. and 5:00 a.m.? That is the new estimated time of death according to the coroner.
Jackson appeared behind me, and I took a bite of my Chinese food while pointing to the paper. “Graham noticed Mandy drank champagne the night of her murder. That must have meant he was allowed in the guest house and was all over the crime scene.”
Jackson only nodded.
“Also I noticed the time of death changed,” I said, licking my sticky fingers so I could search through the file for the coroner’s report, but it wasn’t in there. “I’ll have to check with Caleb on that one.”
Mandy appeared in shocking 80s color. “Sorry I’m late. I… wasn’t sure I wanted to continue. This is harder than I thought it’d be. But I know it’s important. Not just for me, but for my kids and my sister.”
I folded the ends of my Chinese takeout bucket and pushed it to the middle of the table. “Yep, they deserve to know who killed you. It’s been eating your sister up for the last thirty years, probably your kids and husband too.”
I pulled my laptop open. “Let’s see if anyone’s messaged me back on Facebook, and then we can channel.”
There was one new message. From Graham’s account. Mandy and Jackson both hovered closer.
The message had obviously been written by one of their kids: Leave my father and my family alone or I will report you.
We all stared at the screen.
Mandy shrugged beside me, reading the message. “At least they stick up for their dad. That’s a good thing, right?”
“Looks like you’re shrugging off death again,” Jackson told her. “This time your own.”
She didn’t respond, only looked down where her Converse would have been if ghosts ever had feet.
I typed in a response: Ask your dad about Alice.
Jackson watched as my finger hovered over the enter key. “And I thought Five Dollar Chinese was going to be your biggest regret this evening.”
He was right. I wanted to stir the pot, but this might be like adding a bad egg to it. I erased the message and tried a lighter approach.
Mandy mentioned something about a fire, a woman named Alice, and a baby named Felix. I’d like
to talk more about this with your family.
I hit enter before any ghosts could stop me and watched my message appear under the one about leaving their dad alone. My heart raced, seeing it there. I reminded myself it was necessary, and it was nothing like a blue note. I was just a medium wanting more information.
I put my Chinese box in the fridge and cleaned up the stray bits of rice that had fallen onto the table. Looking up, I noticed they were staring at me.
“I’m surprised they haven’t gotten back to you already,” Jackson said.
I ignored the sarcasm and got comfy on the couch.
“We should start right where we left off,” I said, mostly because I wanted to see Crazy Hank and his glove again.
I relaxed into the cushions, taking one long inhale after another, drawing the ghost into me, listening to my clock and the snoring sounds of my dog on the floor by the couch.
It didn’t take long for the sounds around me to include Mandy’s voice. My fingers gripped around what felt like a sharpie.
