by Y G Maupin
T could tell that Jackson was angry. But she could also see that he was disappointed. “Want some coffee?” she asked finally, to break the silence.
“No, I’m already running late. Look, I love you so much, T. I know that we would be great parents and maybe we do wait until after the wedding, but it sounds like kids are a no go for you, and if that’s the case...” He drifted off and looked down at the floor. “I just need to know if we are doing the right thing right now, this getting married thing, if you don’t want to have kids at all. I’ve always wanted a large family. We can afford it and we have the room in our home and in our hearts.” He placed his palm on his chest, he looked on the verge of tears. “I just have always known, ever since I was a little kid that I wanted to have a lot of kids growing up. And watching my grandparents and spending time on the ranch with them, I just knew that was the life I wanted for myself when I was grown up. I just imagined that it would be with a woman like you. I’ve got to go.” With that, he walked the two steps between them, kissed her softly on the lips and left. T cried into her shirt and walked back upstairs to get ready for work.
Seventeen
Anesta tried calling Sarah’s cell for the fourth time that night, with no answer. Alice’s phone was only going to voicemail. She tried Birdies, but then remembered that she had mentioned getting a new number after a previous boyfriend had accused her of stalking, so the number was different now. She was frustrated at the thought of having to get back in her car to drive down there to warn them about Beverly. These women, she fumed. Why weren’t they on their phone all the time like the rest of the population?
Anjolie watched her from the end of the couch with disinterest. “Lets watch a scary movie together, like when we used to sneak downstairs. Remember?” she asked. Anesta was preoccupied with getting her calls to go through.
“Sweetie, we are living in a scary movie, remember? I need these women to answer their damn phones!” she said, staring at the call history to see how many attempts so far. Seven. Anjolie pouted.
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” Anesta asked, dialing Alice again. Anjolie stood up and with one hand on her hip she addressed her older by one minute sister.
“It’s not fair that I come back to talk to you, I help you and all you want to do is help them and spend time with them and not me. That’s not right. I’m the one that told you the spirits are coming back to kill people because T opened the portal and let them in so that’s why.” Anesta jumped up and tried to grab the little girl's shoulder to get clarification but she was a ghost, just like the others.
“What did you just say? Anjolie you never told me that T opened a portal. When did that happen? How did this happen?”
“Yes I did,” Anjolie said, but at the same time wondering if she had remembered to mention that.
Anesta sighed and rolled her eyes. She may have been dead enough years to have been an adult, but her sister was still a child. “When. Did. That. Happen?” Anesta stressed.
Anjolie switched hips and looked out into the distance. She wasn’t going to talk. She was holding out like she used to with her mom and dad. Anesta recognized the tactic, because it always worked for Anjolie, but never for Anesta.
Anesta played the part her mother used to play when Anjolie got this way. “That’s fine. I don’t need to know. I’ll just get in my car now and leave to go see them and I won’t be here anymore,” she reasoned, waiting for Anjolie to bite.
“I don’t care, go you big dummy,” Anjolie replied with spite. “I can leave too, you know.” And with that she disappeared. Anesta’s stomach dropped. Oh no.
“Wait, Anjolie. Come back. I need your help!” But there was nothing there
The women walked through the foyer to a bloody mess. Gerald Henderson was face down in a puddle of what could only be his own blood. It looked as if he was trying to get away from whoever shot him. There were suitcases and clothes strewn everywhere. The whole house appeared lit for the holidays. Every lamp and light was on from the front doorway all the way back to the formal dining room and sunroom off from the rear kitchen. Beverly wasn’t worried about stepping on any broken glass, but it felt uneasy to go from room to room looking for the other dead body, which there had to have been another one. She wasn’t scared of dead bodies. She had seen three of them in her lifetime. One was her mother, when she had died in her sleep in the late sixties after a lifetime of hard work and pain. The other had been a neighbor who had killed himself by hanging in his backyard. Beverly had looked out the window because her children had gotten suspiciously quiet as they played that Valentines morning in the snow. She saw that their faces were pressed against the wood fence peering at the yard next door. When she looked over to see what held their attention, she breathed in sharply when she saw the man swinging from a noose. She ran screaming out for the kids to get inside and lock themselves in their room. She ran from the side of the house and rang the doorbell to the neighbor’s house in the hope that someone else was there. But no one else would have been there to stop him or even save him. One of the many reasons he had given up and killed himself in the first place. The third body was that of her husband, Alfred, but everyone called him Zeke. Alfred had been a musician and a talented one at that. He spent most of his youth on the road with his father and uncle, playing the dance hall circuits with them until his mother got sick and he was made to go home for a while. After she passed, some years later, he struck out on his own to see if he could find his errant father and uncle to join them on the road. That’s when he had met Beverly as a young man at a bus stop, his yellowed cardboard suitcase and trumpet case firmly in his hand, spying down the road to see if the bus was any nearer to arriving. She just smiled and said, “Oh don’t worry. It will get here. Maybe not on time, but it will be here in the next five minutes or so.” She had a dazzling smile and Alfred smiled back at her.
“As long as I have you to look at, I won’t mind the wait,” he said, as smooth as the trained musician he was. There had been plenty of interaction and conversations with ladies while he had been on the road or in dance halls. And he had the looks to support the come ons he delivered. They saw each other from that day forward, and once he had stopped trying to find his father and uncle, he settled in South Dallas and eventually they married.
Beverly searched all of the first floor and poked her head in the garage. Nothing in there but two SUV's and a dusty trunk. She went back inside, through the mud room and laundry room and all throughout the rest of the downstairs. She really didn’t want to go upstairs. She stood at the bottom of the stairs with the carved oak banister and railing that gently curved to the second floor where most of the bedrooms were located. Looking up she was surprised that they had painted over the beautiful wood ceiling. There were many changes that had been made to that house since she had last been in it, July of 1972.
Beverly shook her head at the thoughts and images from that night and proceeded to meander up the stairs to check for Olive Henderson, the newest owner of this dark spot from her history. She quickly was on the second floor when she heard moaning from the farthest bedroom to the left. She sped to the doorway and saw a woman half sitting, half leaning against a treadmill, a female spirit hovering near her watching her die. Beverly could see that the woman had a gunshot to the abdomen, her right arm draped over it covered in blood from her shoulders down. Olive, leaned on her left hand holding herself up.
“Die already, you bitch!” the female spirit was seething, as Olive clung to life.
“What’s going on here?” Beverly asked, floating into the bedroom.
“Well isn’t it obvious, this dumb bitch shot and killed her husband and he got in one good shot before he fuckin died. Todd has already glimmered out into the real world and here I am, stuck with Dumbo.” And with that she gave an ineffective kick to the woman bleeding out on the floor.
“She’s going,” Beverly whispered, watching Olive’s pale face grow even paler, her mouth
slack as it had stopped gaping like a dying fish on the deck of a fishing boat. Finally, she stopped moving altogether and her eyes glazed over with death.
Carla jumped up and down with fists pumping. “Ah man, I can’t wait. I wonder if we’ll arrive together? I can’t believe he made the jump without me. I told him to wait so that we could keep them in the same room but that guy ran, so I made Olive shoot him again.” She thought for a moment and then brushed that aside. “Well, whatever. I mean, who cares, at this point, I’ll start over if I have to. Who knows I might have better luck in the next lifetime.” Carla paused for a moment. “Just when is this going to happen already?” she said, impatient to move on and then her eyes widened as she looked at Beverly.
Beverly felt strange. She looked down and could see herself shimmering and an immense pain starting from where her feet once were. Waves of pressure emanated through her body and out of her head. She felt the pull get stronger and she looked up to see the young spirit woman rush towards her crying and screaming with outstretched arms and she was gone.
She felt the pressure roll over her getting stronger faster as she sped through what felt like a tunnel made of gel and suede. It should have felt good but the speed of the travel and the alternating waves of intense pressure hurt like being punched repeatedly in random spots over her body. Suddenly it stopped and she was wrapped in the softest blanket with the warmest touch. She couldn’t open her eyes, it was so bright and they burned. Her breathing was rapid and she felt wet. Her mouth and nose hurt from trying to breathe during the jump and it hurt her lungs just to catch a deep breath, like when she had bronchitis. Unable to focus she saw a dark face so close to hers and heard humming. It was a woman wearing a face mask, picking her up and setting her down again, in another person’s arms. Struggling to focus still, the face became clearer and the woman gently smiled. “Hi my little precious girl. I’m your mommy,” Beverly screamed.
Birdie was outside when a police officer approached the front door of Sarah and Alice’s home. She had met him once, at Millie’s bar out on the highway. He looked shy still this early dawn, but determined as he had to be given the important task he was set on from the emergency next door. “Is this your home, Ma’am?” He asked as she hung up the call.
Birdie steadied herself and flashed her best smile. “Why no, it's not, officer. Can I help you?” she asked, using her loveliest voice. He smiled.
“Anyone else out here with you?” He flashed his flashlight around the front yard and door way. Nothing.
“No sir, but I can call the owners out here..” she started, but he reached out a hand to stop her.
“That’s ok, miss. Who else is in this house right now?” he asked, hands on his utility belt. If Birdie wasn’t so stressed she would think he was cute.
Alice stepped out followed by Sarah. “We’re the owners of this property officer. We heard gunshots about a half hour ago. I’m assuming you’re here to see if we are safe as well?” Alice asked coolly. The two older women stood to the left of the younger blonde as the officer surveyed them.
“Yes, we were called out for shots fired in the neighborhood and we’ve located the residence. I was just here to ask some questions about what you might have heard or know about your neighbors, The Hendersons.”
Sarah gasped and leaned closer to Alice, who tightened at the confirmation of what they had suspected.
“Sorry to say that we don’t know as much as we wish to. We own the bookstore on main street, Calliope’s Sister, and spend most of our days there and come home late at night. I understand that they were business owners as well so we were all like two ships passing in the night.”
“Would you like to come in, officer?” Sarah offered, moving to the side to invite him in. Alice stood stock still.
“No ma’am, thank you. I just have a couple more questions and then I’ll move on. Can I just get everyone’s name and contact numbers?” he asked, drawing a small notebook out of his shirt pocket along with a pen.
Birdie’s mouth set in a line. The officer’s method of questioning was odd, like he was missing out big chunks and areas of things he could be asking about, like did they know if they were having problems. Did they ever hear them make threats to each other or anyone at all? When it was her turn she was close enough to read the name on his badge. J. Wilson. Jason Wilson. She remembered the Jason part but didn’t know Wilson. She smiled as she watched him write her name and number down on the pad below Alice and Sarahs.
“You can find me at the Little Buckeroo’s day care center Tuesdays through Saturdays from seven AM until four.” Her smile was positively feline. Licking her lips, she added. “I’m home alone when I’m not at work, so I tend to keep to myself when I’m not visiting my book club friends.” She nodded toward Alice and Sarah.
“Kind of late to be having a book club meeting, don’t you think?” he asked with genuine concern. He looked from Birdie to Alice to Sarah. “Or should I say early, as it's close to four am right now?” he said, closing his little notebook. He pressed the button on the microphone attached to his shoulder lapel and called in for another person to join him at the address of the Littleton mansion behind the house they were searching.
Anesta sat for a moment before calling for Anjolie again. “Sister. I didn’t go. I’m still here. I’m not mad. I just want you to come back.” But it was futile. The little ghost girl had been gone for ten minutes already. She looked down at the phone. It was four-fifteen and she had to be at work in three hours. She desperately needed to call out sick today, just to catch up on sleep as well as to warn the others. She’d have to wait until seven when her cousin went into the office to check the answering service. Leaning her head against the soft couch, she closed her eyes and waited. Trying not to think if it was better to drive back into town to see Alice and Sarah or to wait for Anjolie to come back. Her phone was dying, so she placed it on the flat charger on her end table and closed her eyes.
She woke with a start to see she had missed two calls. One from Birdie and the other from Sarah. It was now six thirty and she needed to get dressed in fresh clothes if she was going to work. As she sat up she caught sight of Anjolie sitting on the ottoman on the other side of her coffee table, watching her sleep. Anesta ignored her and went to her room where she took a quick shower and dressed again in a pinstripe business suit with a red silk flower on the lapel.
“You look like Mama,” Anjolie said from the doorway. Anesta continued to ignore her. She applied her red lipstick and flipped her hair to add volume. Walking past the little girl she went to the doorway where she had left her purse.
Anjolie floated alongside her now. “Are you going over to their house? The police are there.” Anesta whirled around and was quickly down at her sister's eye level.
“What! You better not be playing games with me.” She said waiting for her to respond.
Anjolie looked aghast. “I’m not. I saw them when I left. I went to see what they were doing and to see if Beverley was still there but I can’t see her there. There were three women there, Alice and Sarah and the blonde girl too. They were in separate rooms and the police were talking to them.”
Anesta stopped for a moment. There wasn’t anything she could do but wait for the police to leave. Alice was a lawyer, anyway, so anything that they could need at the moment she would be able to cover. She needed to see about the others, hopefully nothing was wrong and today could start out as usual. Looking down at her little sister she asked, “Want to go to the funeral home with me?” Anjolie smiled wide and nodded.
Beryl slept so well. It felt nice to roll around in her bed and not have to share the covers today. Mr. Bosley was back, she knew what those weird people in the streets and everywhere were doing and she felt she had an idea on how to keep the ghost killers away from her. Bouncing out of bed, narrowly missing the other cat she had, Beryl bopped her way into the bathroom to take a shower. She screamed as she saw that same intruder, the female, from the morning before.
> “Fucking bitch stole my ride,” she glowered. “You’re going to have to do.”
Eighteen
T slept in for fifteen more minutes before her ringing cell phone woke her up. Looking at the screen and seeing that it was Sharon, she answered.
“What?” she spoke sleepily, having placed it on speakerphone.
“Olive Henderson is dead.”
T’s eyes open clear as day. “What did you say?” she repeated.
“Dead,” Sharon answered, chewing in the background.” Dead, dead, dead. Gerald too.”
“Is that his name? Oh goddess on earth. When did this happen?” T sat up and rubbed her eyes.
Sharon breathed heavily into the phone as she put her mouth closer to it. “Randall got a call this morning around four thirty asking him to come in for a double homicide. At the time, that’s what they thought but it’s now being called a murder suicide until they get a coroners confirmation,” she loudly whispered into the phone.
Annoyed T asked, “Where are you?”
Sharon breathed into the phone again. “I’m at the station for a minute then we can go over to Alice and Sarah’s if you want before school. They were questioned along with Birdie after it happened, because it’s so close to their house and all. “
T didn’t answer.
“Ok got to go.” Sharon rushed off the phone. T sat and watched her screen go blank after the call ended and debated getting up. She did not want to go if the police were involved and only had a fleeting knowledge of Olive Henderson. Gerald she had only seen on occasion as he usually stayed in an office in the feed store whenever she went in to buy chicken feed, or to look at the baby ducks. Well, it’s officially affecting us now. She readied for work and drove to the school instead.
“Great minds think alike, huh.” Sharon merged with T in the faculty parking lot. There wasn’t enough coffee in the morning for this day to help T shield herself from her friend's sunny disposition.
