“I didn’t see Trinity,” Kristi said.
“Oh, wouldn’t it be cool if we could just see her,” Sydney said. “I look at her portrait on the stairway often enough, and I even talk to her when I’m working sometimes.”
“How scary!” Lacey Knox said, shivering. Janet protectively set an arm around her shoulders.
“Not scary at all,” Sydney assured her. “I love to believe she’s here, that she wanders the halls, and maybe...maybe cares for people. If she’s here, she’s not mean—she’s just lonely.”
“You know,” Murray announced, looking at Carl and shaking his head, “maybe it’s a good thing Trinity isn’t here—as Kristi says. I mean, the past was ugly. Slavery was ugly. What the North often did to the South in retribution was ugly. The past should be the past—and we should look to the way we behave in the future.”
“And think!” Granger said. “People have to learn to think differently—and behave like a group of human beings, and that as humans, we’re all the same, no matter where we came from, what country.”
“That was beautiful, Granger!” his wife said.
Kristi smiled. “And a worthy notion. You should be in politics.”
“I’ve thought about it. We have to quit putting bandages on situations—and get to the root of the disease,” Granger said, nodding appreciatively to Kristi. “I’ve even looked into running, starting small, you know—and maybe moving on up.”
“Dad, you’re actually too good a man to be a politician,” Lacey told him.
“There is that!” Carl said, laughing.
Genie, who had been quiet and in the background, spoke up then.
“The man who just went missing... Simon Drake. I’d watched him speak. I’d read up on him, and knew a lot about his beliefs—and his private life. He was a good man. A really good man,” she said somberly.
The others, Kristi noted, were uncomfortably silent. They’d been casually chatting—and Genie had brought up a bad situation.
“Maybe the police will find him, Genie,” Sydney said.
Kristi didn’t think she could just stand there any longer. The distance of time from the séance really was making her wonder exactly what she had seen, and being in the group was making her uneasy—she needed to get away.
“Well, excuse me, will you,” Kristi said. She looked across the room at Jonah—who still seemed to be shaking his head over the entire event. “We need to finish tidying up, and I, at least, have to get some sleep. I’m too old for a really late night.”
Sydney laughed softly. “Kristi! You’re not that old—though, Genie, Jonah, I don’t know about the two of you.”
“Hey!” Jonah protested.
Sydney laughed softly. “I’m meeting some friends down on the riverfront. Lacey, I was thinking, you want to come with me?” She turned quickly to Lacey’s parents. “We won’t be drinking—there’s just a good band playing, and it’s a brewery that makes its own root beer and ginger beer, too. I promise, we won’t contribute in any way to her delinquency. Oh!” She turned, suddenly hesitant, to Carl. “You’re invited, too, of course, Carl—I can’t tell you how I’d impress my friends, bringing you along. Oh, okay—everyone is invited. It’s a great rock band that’s playing—they do their own things, and they cover old dudes, too, great dudes we’ve lost, like Tom Petty, George Harrison and even Johnny Cash, Elvis, Freddie Mercury and Roy Orbison!”
“I’ve seen them—the Savannah Six,” Kristi said, turning to Granger and Janet Knox. “They’re an excellent band. And the brewery is family oriented, and they craft the best root beer I’ve ever tasted.”
She didn’t care what they did; she just wanted to escape herself. But she forced herself to behave normally.
“Mr. Wicker—you would love it,” Sydney said.
Dallas smiled. “I’d love to some time. I have work tonight. Give me a rain check, will you?”
“You’re just going to go on now? It’s ten o’clock,” Granger said.
“Um, not that late,” Sydney said sweetly. She cleared her throat. “For a lot of people, the night is just beginning.”
“We’re not a lot of people,” Granger said.
“Certainly not, sir,” Sydney murmured, looking at Kristi.
“The bands don’t even start playing until nine or ten most of the time,” Kristi said. “Like I said, I’m heading up to bed for the night, and you all can get some sleep—or go be tourists and have a nice night out!”
She turned, heading into the front parlor and gathering up the last cups and saucers and a wineglass. Sydney followed her. “Hey, I didn’t mean to be rude to a guest.”
“You weren’t. Lacey Knox is eighteen. Nice that she respects her parents, but if she wants to go with you...never mind. It isn’t my business.”
Sydney walked across the room, finding a leftover pastry plate. “I think we’ve got it all—oh, and I won’t be late in the morning. I promise.”
“I’m not worried,” Kristi assured her.
As she spoke, Janet Knox came hurrying into the room, smiling broadly. “We’re going—we’re all going. I mean, Granger and I—and that amazing Carl Brentwood. Would you believe that? He’s going to come out with us common folk! What a fine, nice man,” she said.
“He is a very fine, nice man,” Kristi agreed, softly beneath her breath, “but a human being, and not a saint!”
Sydney heard her; Janet didn’t. Janet’s hands were clasped rapturously.
Kristi didn’t care; she was just eager for them all to leave.
They took too long for Kristi’s state of mind. She smiled and hurried into the next room and asked Jonah if he minded making sure they were all set, and when he assured her he was just fine watching their part of the evening wind down, she flew back upstairs—aware that Dallas saw her go, but he was politely listening to Carl, Claire and Murray as they explained the importance of Carl’s online presence.
When the group was all out, he would head up, she knew.
Up in her room, she sat down at her work desk, remembering she had deadlines.
But she couldn’t concentrate. All she could do was sit there and see, in her mind’s eye, the face in the crystal ball, and the way the woman knew her, and how she asked for help.
The house was quiet—the ghosts had made themselves scarce.
Maybe they, too, were headed for a night out on the town.
Eventually, she turned away from her computer, having written one line. She headed back downstairs, and found Jonah watching sports in the back parlor.
“Hey—everyone left?” she asked.
“They all went to the riverfront, except for Genie, and Mr. Wicker told Genie he’d give her a ride home. He should be back soon. And me... I am just enjoying the peace and quiet.” He shook his head. “That whole group of our guests...excepting, of course, Mr. Wicker, all decided they must enjoy that fine moon and walk to the river—a few blocks. With or without the moon, it would be foolish not to walk, but they were all going on and on about it. Hey. Fine performance tonight, Kristi.”
“Pardon?”
He laughed. “I know you don’t set any more store in ghosts than I do—but the way you were staring at that crystal ball and going on? Bravo!”
She smiled weakly. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“Honestly, I enjoyed my chats with Jedidiah—and with old man Murphy. Jedidiah and I... When we were younger, we used to love all that reenactment jazz. Him and me, we fought tons of battles over and over again. We listened to some of the best historians in the world, and you know what I learned?”
“What’s that?”
“That everything in life—and probably death—is perspective. We all sat in this same room tonight—and saw something different. Hell, if we all went to the same movie, we’d see something different. Even the weather—to some, it’s too hot. To some it
’s too cool.” He shrugged. “And as far as war goes, well, hell, the truth is always in the winning, right?”
She smiled.
“Perspective—you’re right. It all has to do with who is looking at what.” She paused and said, “Thank you, Jonah. Thanks for your help—and your logic and perspective!”
“Night, Kristi. You get some rest, huh?”
“Yes, sir!”
She left him and hurried upstairs and got ready for bed. A hot shower was delicious. She thought about trying to work again, but she was far too restless.
Maybe she should have gone to the riverfront herself.
She turned on the television.
The news was on. The national news was usually wild enough to engross anyone these days, no matter what one’s political thinking. But it was a local broadcast; the police were speaking with a reporter, once again asking for help in the disappearance of Simon Drake.
And they compared it to the still-unsolved disappearance of Eliza Malone just two years earlier.
They showed a smiling Eliza, speaking at a high school.
And it seemed to Kristi that, even in the TV footage, the woman was looking at her, heartsick and earnest.
“Why won’t you help me?” she whispered, staring hard at Kristi. “Please help me.”
10
“They’re all such nice people,” Genie told Dallas as he drove. “When Jonah told me we were having a young actor, I was not pleased—especially when he was booking three rooms for himself, his media person or whatever and his agent. I mean, I watch TV. Actors can be all worried about people getting in their space, but from the shows I’ve seen, the managers and agents and all are worse. Demanding. But I was wrong. Carl is just as nice as can be—he stops on the streets and signs autographs when people ask him. He’s just kind and good with people all the time, and while I’d never heard of him, Sydney assures me he’s really famous. And Claire actually picks up after herself, and Murray is quieter, but he’s fine, too.”
“So, you’ve enjoyed having them there,” Dallas said.
“Oh, yes.”
“And what about the Knox family?”
“Oh, they’re nice. Granger is always worried about his daughter, his daughter is always trying to do something on her own and Janet is just fine. They’re fine—they’re just like the usual guests, you know.” She paused and turned and grinned at him. “And you’re really okay, too, by the way.”
“Thanks.” He drove in silence for a minute and then asked, “What about Shelley? How do you like having her out?”
“Shelley... Well, she’s...Shelley. She’s been coming around as long as I can remember. Jedidiah used to just sigh when she came out with things like, ‘Oh, Trinity, you poor sweetie, I feel you...oh, yes, I feel you and your pain!’ She’s very dramatic and likes to play the part. But hey, it’s her living. She’s just a little over-the-top for me. I think she irritates Kristi though. I mean, Kristi is Kristi—she’s just nice to everyone and didn’t want to upset the cart after Jedidiah died. I mean, we all kind of waited—Sydney, Jonah and me. We didn’t know if she’d want to clean house and start over, but she was so sweet, said she needed all of us. She wanted to keep working on her own business... With us still at the house, she could. But she pitches in, and once she told me she never understood why anyone would fix what wasn’t broken. And the thing is with Shelley, well, I don’t think Kristi would hurt her by bringing in someone else after all these years, but she is absolutely convinced that the story that was told by the Union colonel is true—and that Monty was a murderer. That bothers Kristi—always has.”
“Does Kristi say something every time?”
“Oh, yeah. But it doesn’t stop Shelley, she just sighs and tries to be comforting, you know? Man, but tonight was something different!” Genie shivered. “Now I will be looking over my shoulder—afraid of faces in the window! Oh, that’s my place—right there.”
Dallas pulled the car over to the curb and went around to open Genie’s door. He walked her up the path to her house and waited for her to open her door.
“My, my, son, you are a gentleman,” Genie said.
“Do my best,” he said. And then he added, “You make sure you lock your door, and be careful, okay?”
“Sure, but I’ll be okay. I don’t hang around Johnson Square, and I’ve never been over to the Murphy place!” She shivered. “Creepy place.”
“You don’t like the Murphy house?”
Genie was thoughtful for a minute. “Strange. I used to love it. But...a while back. I mean, before Ian even died...there was something. Seemed like it was suddenly a dark place, a scary place. I enjoyed when Ian came over to our place. He was a cool guy, friendly, sweet, picked up, helped out...such a shame about him. He and Jedidiah—they were such good friends.”
“So—just one day, his house started to bother you?”
“Like night coming,” she said. “You know, it goes from bright, to soft colors in the sky, to dusty colors, and darker bit by bit. It was like that.” She sighed. “Guess he found out about the cancer maybe about two years ago. Maybe that was it. Or, maybe, just the bad stuff happening around it.” She shrugged. “That’s an interesting thought, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
She paused, looking up at the sky. “The moon really is so beautiful tonight. But I’ll bet you it isn’t bringing that glorious light all the way down to the Murphy place. You mark my words—that house will still look like it’s all covered in darkness.”
“Maybe, but...if Murphy was such a good guy, his house can’t have...well, I guess, after tonight, I’d say it couldn’t have any kind of an evil spirit attached to it.”
“Doesn’t have to be Murphy, and may not be evil, just...well, it scares me. And I’m real glad I wasn’t having to wait for the bus tonight, so thank you again for the ride!”
“Not a problem.”
She was closing the door and he’d started to turn away, but she suddenly opened the door again and called him back. “Mr. Wicker?”
“Please, just call me Dallas.”
“Dallas... I, well, I know you and Kristi... I mean, it’s fine. Better than fine...it’s great. But... I’m worried about her, so tonight...especially tonight...watch out for her, will you? I mean, being at that séance... It was creepy! And I’m scared for what she saw. And kind of scared ’cause of the moon. Silly, huh?”
“Not much is silly—not in my mind. I will watch out for her,” he promised.
She smiled, and then closed and locked her door. “All in!” she called to him, waving through the door’s small window.
“Thanks. Good night.”
In his car, he put a call through to Detective Joe Dunhill, and put him on speaker so that he could get going back to McLane House.
Dunhill answered, sounding anxious, as if hoping Dallas had something solid.
“I think Eliza Malone is dead—and her body is either hidden somewhere in or around the Murphy house, or the McLane place.”
“What makes you think that?”
Dallas hesitated. “Gut feeling—and I’m here because of your gut feeling, so don’t go knocking it.”
“Okay...you want me to start digging around the Murphy house? Come on, you know that isn’t legal, and we can’t just go blindly poking around. We can’t even get a search warrant for ‘somewhere around one of these places.’ Oh!” he said suddenly, groaning. “Your séance!”
“You know all about the séance already?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s all over the internet already—Carl Brentwood or one of his people posted a teaser for it, and there’s a backup to the teaser—Carl talking for just a minute directly to the camera as they’re setting up the room, with a promise more will be coming by midnight—witching hour, as he said.”
“That’s just great. The area will be thronging with h
is fans, people trying to get close to him. And fans can be crazy.”
“Everyone already knows he’s in town.”
“So now they know where he’s staying. They could swarm the area—which will make it hard to figure out who is doing what.”
“You think that—you think that more is going to happen?” Dunhill asked.
Dallas was silent, and then said, “Theory. Ian Murphy was connected to all of this, and I think it’s because of something he knew. Maybe he didn’t even know what he had could be dangerous, and he was quick to share it with others. Eliza Malone was the first. Then, for some reason, it all stopped for two years. Then started up again—Ian and Lachlan Plant died just two days apart, right?”
“Right—and Simon Drake disappeared two weeks later. But Ian was dead by the time Simon Drake disappeared.”
“That suggests Ian Murphy had no idea of what he had or knew. The killer—or killers—could feel that the information might be coming to light again. Wait, actually, all this may help. With all the excitement over Brentwood’s video, you can get police protection of some kind, at least, over to the McLane house.”
“Sure, I can have a patrol car go by. Listen, we’ve had good police work in the Historic District from the get-go.”
“I’m not saying you don’t have good cops—I’m saying this killer is good.”
“All right. I’ll get someone watching the house.”
Dallas wondered for a moment if that would help—Monty and Justin were watching over the house. Then again, no one else saw them, and they wouldn’t be a deterrent if someone came around feeling homicidal.
The thought suddenly made him anxious to get back—Kristi and Jonah were alone at the house. He didn’t suspect Jonah of being a killer, but then, who in the house might be? He’d been driving in that direction and he was almost in front of the house—but he wanted to get in.
“Get me some cops to watch over things. I’ll get back to you in the morning. I have my people checking backgrounds on the employees and guests at McLane House. Maybe I’ll have something by then—at least, a direction.”
The Summoning Page 17
