“And just to be clear, this is the same Jonathan who my aunt had an affair with,” I said.
Mia seized her wine glass and took another long swallow. Her hands trembled slightly. “Don’t you remember all the whispers?” Her attention was directed at Daniel and Daphne. “When Frank died?”
“Frank?” I asked.
“Are you talking about Jonathan’s stepfather?” Daphne asked. Daniel had a pensive look on his face.
Mia nodded.
Daphne screwed up her face. “That was so long ago, Mia. We were kids. Didn’t he drink himself to death or something?”
“Maybe you didn’t spend enough time at Jessica’s,” Mia said. “Louise used to talk about him. He was one of the few people in this town who agreed with her that something had happened to Jonathan, and it was Charlie’s fault. She regularly brought Frank food, which he barely ate, and which Bill (that’s Louise’s husband) was completely against her doing. He thought it was very unhealthy for Louise to listen to Frank.”
“Yes, I guess I sort of remember that,” Daphne said. “But what does that have to do with how you know it’s Jonathan in the basement?”
“Because Frank used to beat him up,” Daniel said.
Mia touched the tip of her nose. “Bingo.”
Daphne’s face cleared. “Oh. Of course.”
I looked around the table. “How do you guys even know about that? Didn’t this all happen before you were born?”
“It all came out when Frank died,” Daniel said. “He was a mean SOB, especially when he was drunk, which was most of the time. He beat the living crap out of Jonathan for years, until Jonathan finally got big enough to hit back.”
“A lot of people blamed Frank for Jonathan being the way he was,” Mia said.
“What way was that?” I asked.
Mia paused, screwing her face up. “Quiet. Brooding. Not the easiest to get along with.”
“I remember my mom saying Frank was probably the reason Jonathan left the way he did,” Daniel said. “So, the fact that he was blaming Charlie was absurd and laughable.”
“Yeah, I don’t remember anyone taking Frank seriously either,” Mia said. “Except for Louise. It’s just like you said, Daniel. He only had himself to blame. That, or he was delusional, because his brain was pickled from all the alcohol.”
“Or, he was just pissed he couldn’t keep abusing Jonathan, and decided to shift his focus to Charlie,” Daniel said.
“Either way, Louise was the only one taking Frank seriously,” Mia said. “But I think that had less to do with Frank’s persuasive powers and more to do with her wanting to believe Frank. Bill wanted Louise to move on. Jesse was gone, and to keep fixating on Charlie, especially considering there was zero proof Charlie was anywhere near Jesse the night he disappeared, wasn’t healthy. But,” Mia sighed. “Louise wanted someone else to blame, because she couldn’t bear to blame herself. Bill and Louise had some terrible fights about it. Jessica was so relieved when Frank finally died, because the fights ended.”
“I remember that,” Daphne said. “But it wasn’t just Jessica. Everyone seemed relieved when he died.”
“Yeah, no one was mourning him,” Mia said. “Not even Louise. I think everyone was ready to move on.”
“Was Frank married?” I asked. “Where was Jonathan’s mother when all of the abuse occurred?”
The three of them stared at each other, puzzlement on their faces. “What did happen to Jonathan’s mother?” Daphne asked. “I don’t think anyone ever talked about her.”
“I don’t remember either,” Mia said. “How about you, Daniel?”
Daniel shook his head. “It was just Jonathan and his drunk, abusive stepfather.”
“I guess that means you also don’t know what happened to Jonathan’s real father, either,” I said.
“God, I can’t believe none of this ever came up before,” Mia said.
“What about Jonathan’s wife?” I asked. “And his family? They moved after he disappeared, I know, but how did they respond to all of this?”
“No one really talks about it,” Mia said. “I guess she packed up and left shortly after he disappeared. Took both kids and moved. I think she initially went to live with her parents. They lived on a farm somewhere north of here. Or maybe it was in Minnesota. I’m not sure what happened to her after that.”
“I don’t think anyone talked to her about it much,” Daniel said. “I mean, it was sort of an uncomfortable topic, her having been cheated on. I think everyone was kind of relieved when she just left.”
I stared at my friends, aghast. “Are you listening to yourselves? Who was this guy? No mother, no father, his wife takes off, everyone in town is relieved. Other than his abusive drunk stepfather, did no one care about him?”
They didn’t answer right away, instead searching each other’s faces. “I guess ... I hadn’t thought about it like that,” Mia said finally, biting her lips. “But, you’re right, it does seem awfully cold.”
“I mean, is that why Aunt Charlie was able to get away with this?” I asked, not expecting an answer. “Because no one cared about him?”
“Mia clearly remembers him more,” Daphne said. “But, yeah, from what I can remember, it does seem like he wasn’t well liked.”
“Other than Jesse, I’m not sure who his friends were,” Mia mused. “He did of course end up getting married, so there’s that.”
“Yeah, and we can see how well that worked out, what with the affair with my aunt and all,” I said. I sighed and put my head in my hands. “What the hell was Aunt Charlie thinking?”
“About the affair or the murder?” Mia asked.
For a moment, I couldn’t answer. Hearing it spoken out loud, just like that, shook me like nothing else had. “Either, I guess,” I finally forced out. “Or both.”
“Maybe you’ll dream about her, and she’ll tell you,” Mia said.
I eyed Mia. “I can’t decide if that would be good or bad.”
“I guess it depends on what she tells you,” Mia said.
A part of me wanted to laugh, but another part of me felt like I was living in a surreal nightmare. “I can’t get my head around it,” I said. “How could my aunt kill someone? Worse, how could she kill her lover? This is my Aunt Charlie, the woman who welcomed all of us into her house. She cooked for us; she made us tea. She believed in us … told us we could do anything we wanted.” I looked around the table at my friends’ serious faces. I thought about my aunt, her wild hair always sticking up, usually littered with dried flowers or grass. I thought of the smudges on her smocks, how she could never keep track of anything, and was forever leaving a trail of forgotten to-dos behind her. “The woman I remember wasn’t, couldn’t have been, a ... a murderer.”
“Maybe it wasn’t her,” Daphne said. “I mean, we don’t actually know if it’s Jonathan or not. Maybe all this happened before Charlie bought the house.”
“According to the medical examiner, the body was buried while Charlie owned the house,” Daniel said.
“But maybe the medical examiner got it wrong,” Daphne argued. “It was a cursory exam. Maybe once he takes a closer look, he’ll see the body was here longer.”
“It’s possible,” Daniel said, but his face looked doubtful.
“It’s also possible,” Daphne added, getting more animated as she warmed up to the topic, “that Charlie had nothing to do with any of it, even if it did happen while she owned the house.”
“How do you figure?” I asked.
“Well, she was hardly handy,” Daphne said. “She didn’t do any of her own home repairs. Do you really think she was down in her basement pouring her own concrete?”
“So, you think whoever she hired to pour concrete in her basement decided to stick a body down there as well?” Daniel asked incredulously.
“Why not?�
�� Daphne asked. “Does that really seem less believable than Charlie killing someone and somehow managing to pour concrete, all on her own, to hide the body?”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Daniel said thoughtfully.
“How could she not have known, though?” I asked. “How could anyone drag a body through this house without Charlie knowing … without her seeing, or smelling, it?”
“You don’t even know if she was home when it happened,” Daphne said. “Maybe the contractors convinced her to go deliver her teas while they worked.”
“I could see that, actually,” Daniel said.
I could too. The Aunt Charlie I knew would definitely be trusting enough to leave her house open to a couple of strangers while she went gallivanting off to deliver teas.
On one hand, that made more sense than her being a ruthless murderer who buried a body in her basement and took that secret to her own grave without anyone ever being the wiser (well, other than Frank, the abusive, drunk bully, if we went with our previous theory).
On the other hand ...
“Look, I’d rather it be some nameless contractor, as well,” I said. “But then why did Aunt Charlie tell me in my dream to find the jade?”
Daphne shot me a look. “I mean, it could have just been a dream. Maybe you’ve seen that jade before in that crack and subconsciously filed it away. Until now.”
“I guess,” I said. “But that seems like a pretty crazy coincidence.”
“Okay, let’s just say Charlie did it. Why would she have put the jade there?” Mia asked.
“Protection,” Daphne said immediately.
Daniel raised an eyebrow. “Protection?”
“Jade is a balancing stone,” Daphne explained. “It’s for protection. My guess is whoever buried the body put the jade there to protect him—or her—self.”
“From what?” Daniel asked.
“Ghosts,” Daphne said, in a “stating-the-obvious” tone.
“You mean,” Mia said slowly. “From the spirit of whoever’s corpse that is.”
“That would make the most sense to me,” Daphne said. “Or,” she looked thoughtful, “I suppose it could have been intended for the corpse, as well. To bring healing to him or her. “
“Well, if that’s the case, it didn’t work,” Mia said.
Daphne looked surprised. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if he was healed, his spirit wouldn’t be keeping me up every night,” Mia said. “Clearly, that’s what I’ve been hearing. His footsteps.”
I could feel cold shivers crawl down my spine. Another ghost. Was that what Mia had been hearing all along? Daphne and Daniel exchanged a look, but Mia wasn’t paying any attention. She was staring deep into her wine glass.
“We don’t know that you’re hearing a ghost,” I said, trying to convince myself more than Mia. The idea of a slew of ghosts hanging out in my house was … disquieting, to say the least. “It’s more likely just the house creaking.”
Mia let out a laugh devoid of humor. “Says the woman who dreams about her dead aunt.”
I flushed. “Well, that’s true. And it’s not like this is the first time we’ve considered the possibility of this house being haunted. It’s just that I’ve only ever heard stories about Mad Martha. Never anything about an unnamed male ghost.”
Mia turned to stare at me, her eyes dark and unreadable. “Just because he hasn’t made himself known to you doesn’t mean he’s not here.”
Silence.
The baked ziti and garlic bread formed a cold, greasy lump in my stomach. I was starting to wish I hadn’t eaten so much.
Daniel cleared his throat. “The body is gone. So, if you’re right, Mia, then the ghost shouldn’t bother you anymore.”
Mia went back to brooding into her wine glass. “Maybe,” she said. “But Mad Martha is still hanging around, too, and her body isn’t here.”
“Once the police investigate, we’ll likely know more,” Daphne said. “And once we actually know who he is, maybe we can find a way to put his spirit to rest.”
Mia paused, pondering. “I like that idea,” she said.
“You know, you don’t have to stay here right now,” I said to Mia. “I’m really okay if you want to find somewhere else to sleep for a few days. Just until we get to the bottom of whoever was down there.”
Mia shook her head. “No, Daniel is right. Things should be better now. The body has been found and removed. He should be more at peace than he was before. Once we know who he was, we can take additional steps.”
“Okay,” I said, sounding more certain than I felt. I sure hoped Mia was right, and whoever it was down there was now at peace.
Chapter 29
“So, you found it.”
Aunt Charlie sat hunched over across from me at the kitchen table. She looked ancient—her gray skin a mass of wrinkles and folds, her hair hanging in her face, limp and colorless, covering one eye. The other, exhausted, met mine.
“Is it Jonathan?” I asked. “Your lover?”
Aunt Charlie lowered her eye to the table where one gnarled hand lay. “Yes,” she said softly.
I was having trouble breathing, my chest heavy and thick.
“Did you put him there?” I asked, my voice getting louder. “Did you bury him in the basement?”
“Yes.”
“Did you ...” I paused. Did I really want to know the answer? “Did you,” my voice was softer, “did you kill him?”
Her hazel eye, flecked with green and gold, so similar to mine, rolled back up to meet my gaze. “Yes.”
I couldn’t breathe. I opened my mouth, gasping as I tried to suck in air as I would water from a straw. “How ... “ my voice was barely audible. I licked my dry, cracked lips and tried again. “How could you?”
Aunt Charlie sighed—a heavy, sad sigh. “He was the love of my life,” she said. “I didn’t care that he was married. I only wanted to be with him. And I know he felt the same about me. He was going to leave his wife.”
I felt a cold, hard lump form in my stomach. “He had children,” I said. “You were okay with him leaving his family, his kids, for you?”
She rubbed her face with one claw-like hand. “I’m not proud of it. There’s a lot of things I did I wish I could take back.” She dropped her hand, revealing an ancient face. “Getting involved with Jonathan definitely is at the top of that list.”
“So why did you?”
She sighed and shook her head. “I was so young. So foolish. I let my emotions get the best of me. Our chemistry was off the charts. The moment our eyes met, it was like ... well, we couldn’t wait to tear each other’s clothes off.”
“Oh God. Aunt Charlie! TMI!”
A ghost of a smile touched her dry, cracked lips. “You’re probably right. But, yes, I was swept away in the moment with little regard for the consequences of our actions.” She sighed again.
I wanted to ask her why she killed him, but I couldn’t form the words. Instead, I asked, “What happened?”
She stared at something next to me, her eyes lost and faraway. “He changed.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t move, seemingly trapped in a past she couldn’t escape. “Changed, how?”
Aunt Charlie didn’t respond. I was about to repeat my question when she suddenly shivered. “It’s my fault, really. I was ... messing with stuff I shouldn’t have been. I got Jonathan involved, and ... something happened to him. I still don’t know what. Possession, maybe. I’m not sure. But something unlocked the darkness in him. He became ... evil.”
A cold trickle of fear dripped down my spine. “Evil?”
Her eyes sharpened, and she looked straight at me. “He started killing things. Animals, at first. But that wasn’t enough. So he started on people.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
<
br /> “Well, one person,” she amended. “One for sure.”
“Who?”
She paused, a grey tongue darting out of her mouth to lick her cracked lips. “Jesse.”
I couldn’t believe it. “He killed his best friend?”
She slowly nodded.
“But ... why?”
“I have evidence,” she said. “It proves it. It’s hidden. You have to find it.”
“Christ,” I said disgustedly. “Why do you keep sending me on wild goose chases? Can’t you just tell me where it is?”
She shook her head. “Just find the evidence.”
“And what, pray tell, is this evidence?”
“Just find it,” she repeated.
“Aunt Charlie, you do realize I’m being investigated for Gwyn’s murder,” I said. “And maybe Ellen’s, too. Finding Jonathan in the basement isn’t helping matters. And now you want me to go on some blind chase for evidence?”
“I didn’t want to kill him,” she said, gazing off in the distance, her eyes unfocused. “But I had to. He killed Jesse. He was going to kill again.”
“You could have called the police.”
“The police,” she said, her voice dripping with disgust. “The police couldn’t help. What if he got off on some technicality? And even if he was convicted, he still could’ve gotten out at some point. No, I had no choice. I opened up that pandora’s box, and I was the one who needed to close it.”
“Yeah, but you should have at least tried,” I said. “I mean, killing him? That’s pretty extreme.”
Her eyes darkened. “You didn’t see what he was turning into. You didn’t see the monster living inside him—the monster that had taken possession of him. It was the only way to be sure.”
I shivered. “Why the basement?”
“I needed to make sure his body was never found,” she said. “Burying him in concrete seemed like the best way.”
“Well, if you didn’t want him found, why did you tell me to dig him up?”
The Evil That Was Done (Secrets of Redemption Book 3) Page 24
