All Those Who Came Before

by Kathryn Meyer Griffith

  “You took a terrible chance, Frank,” she whispered, a touch of anger flaring and just as swiftly dwindling away. She was just so grateful he was okay. Unhurt. That was all that mattered now. “You could have been killed at Cartwright’s hands or during that car chase. You could have left me a widow.” Again.

  “I wasn’t killed. I’m fine.” He slid his chair closer to hers, turned sideways in it, and put his arms around her.

  She leaned against his shoulder, not saying anything else for a time, allowing her tears to subside. There were so many questions swirling around in her head she didn’t know which one to ask first. After all this time to learn that Joel had been murdered. It hadn’t been an accident. And now...the man who’d killed him was also dead. It was almost more than she could grasp. The mystery of her first husband’s death, after all this time, had been solved.

  “I’m sorry, Abby,” he said gently, “for going behind your back. It all went down so fast. I never thought I’d find the answers so quickly. Then what came after just happened.”

  She sighed against his shoulder, tilted her head up and murmured, “Kind of ironic, don’t you think, that Joel’s killer ended up not far from where Joel had been found?”

  “I thought so, too. More than ironic.”

  “So the past has come full circle now,” she said, trying to hide the sudden melancholy she felt. A man, murderer or not, had died after all. Two deaths where there had once been just one.

  “It has. But the good thing is, perhaps now you can finally put Joel’s death to rest...put it behind you...forever.”

  Her eyes still on him in the dim light of the porch, she again nodded. She realized, for the first time since Joel had gone missing and been found deceased in that woodsy ravine, the burden had been lifted from her heart and soul. After all these years.

  And, it occurred to her, there was an extra bonus with the unexpected turn of events. Avery Cartwright was dead. So there’d be no arrest. No media circus to ruin their lives. No trial to rehash all the horrible memories of the past for her. That was a blessing in itself.

  As if he’d been reading her mind, he said, “I never intended to be the death of Avery Cartwright. I’m sorry for it. But, on the other hand, there won’t be a trial. You won’t have to relive his crime and Joel’s death. Sit in a courtroom and look at the man responsible for it.”

  “That is true. I’m grateful for that. And thank you for solving Joel’s murder. The dreams I still have of him might stop now. He has his justice.”

  “He has his justice.”

  Frank pulled her from the chair, holding her tightly against him, he kissed her. Out in the space beyond the porch the night insects and frogs were singing. Their music was sweet. The fog had moved in and was hiding the rest of the world. She thought: I’m really tired. It’s time to go in. Time to rest.

  “Let’s go in,” Frank said. “It’s been a day. I could sure use a cup of our famous coffee. Do you have a pot ready?”

  “You know I do.”

  The two of them went in the cabin and left the night music, the fog, the day and the world behind them.

  Chapter 9

  Abigail spent most of the day with Frank. He didn’t work on his novel. She didn’t work on her paintings. They got up early, had breakfast on the rear porch together to enjoy the morning...and they talked about everything, including the past. She asked again to hear how Frank had tracked down Joel’s murderer. How it had ended up the way it had, with Avery Cartwright burning up and expiring in his wrecked truck. The night before, somehow, everything he’d told her hadn’t sunk in. The first thing that crossed her mind when she woke up the next morning had been: Joel hadn’t died by accident. He’d been murdered. Then: Joel’s killer had been found. Joel’s killer was dead. Good riddance.

  She felt a peace of mind she hadn’t experienced since Joel’s body had been discovered all those years ago. Reminiscing about Joel, for the first time, she could treasure the good memories and not wonder how and why he’d died. She had the answers now.

  “You know,” she brought the subject up, “I’ve been at the Theiss house painting the last couple of days.”

  “No joke. I recall us discussing it once or twice.” Frank was cradling his cup of coffee in his hands. Looking out over the yard, he watched the dogs frolic. He swung his head around to face her. “I’ve seen the paintings. You were right. I have to admit they’re the best things you’ve ever done, Abby. They’re amazing. Truly haunting. Especially when you know four people died there; and another one has been imprisoned forty years for the crime. A crime, by the way, I’ve been told Lucas Theiss, from his prison cell, still denies committing vehemently to this day. Everyone thinks the house is cursed. A sad house. A haunted house. I can see that in your work.

  “Especially that one painting that looks as if it’s a house of lost spirits. All shadowy and dark. It’s as if someone or something is framed in the upper bedroom window. There’s a shadow shape there. So faint it’s hard to see. But I see it. Did you mean to put it there on purpose?”

  “What shadow in the window?”

  He cocked his head at her, met her eyes. The sun was behind him creating a halo. “There is a shadow figure in an upper window. You didn’t put it there?”

  Abigail didn’t know what to say. She wanted to tell him about the real shadow she had seen in the window, but she couldn’t risk it. To mention the shadow was to give Frank just another reason for her to not go back to the house. So she’d fib. “If there’s a bizarre shadow figure in the window then it’s something the paint brush accidently formed. Maybe the paint ran or puddled. It happens sometimes. It can create some interesting images.”

  “Well, take a gander at the twilight painting you did and look hard at the upper windows. You’ll see it.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “So, Abby, exactly how many more times are you planning to go out to that place?”

  “I think I can wrap up the series,” she admitted, “in another visit or two. I’ve decided to go out there today in the late afternoon. The faded light will be perfect. It’ll give me the ambience I need.”

  “Can’t you do the last paintings from the photographs you already have? I mean, you have a stack of photos from all angles. I saw them on the table.”

  “I could, yes. But I need to see, paint, the real thing in the beginning. You know that.”

  “Abby,” Frank’s eyes were pleading in the shaded sunlight under the porch, “Glinda telephoned me this morning when I first got up, while you were taking your shower, and repeated she has a real bad feeling about that house. That, instead of getting better, her fears have gotten worse. So if I ask you not to go back, would you? For me? Just finish your paintings here using those photographs.”

  When Frank, or anyone, told her what to do she hated it and he knew that. It made her more determined than ever to do what she wanted to do. “We’ve had this conversation too many times already, Frank. Can we just drop it? Nothing is going to happen to me there. It’s just an empty house, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Well, at least, could you have someone go with you today? Glinda or Myrtle?”

  “Sure, I’ll think about it.” Her smirk hid the fact she wasn’t really going to think about it at all. She knew what she was going to do. Finish her paintings. Frank was being silly. “You worry too much, husband. Even if there were ghosts there...I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” she intoned in a sing song voice.

  Frank fell silent.

  Snowball jumped up on the porch and Abigail scooped her into her arms. She came to her feet. “I’m taking Snowball in now to give her something to eat.”

  Frank trailed her inside. Leaning against the sink, he watched her feed the cat. “Since you’re not going to the house until late afternoon how about we both take the day itself off, have some fun, and go for a ride on the Gold Wing? Our favorite route out in the country?” He drew her into his arms.

  She didn’t have to think about it. “Now t
hat sounds like fun and I could use some fun. We both could.”

  Within a half hour, they were on the motorcycle riding out in the warm sunshine, the trees towering around them and the breeze whizzing past. It wasn’t so hot with the wind streaming along their bodies.

  Abigail tried to clear her mind of everything worrisome, simply enjoy nature and the time with Frank. Being relieved that Frank had had such a close call the day before but was all right; relieved that Ryan and his buddies were okay and coming home, too. A long yearned for wedding coming. It was easy to enjoy the ride. Wrapping her arms tighter around him, she let the soft movement of the motorcycle lull her into a good mood, and let her mind empty of all the conflicting emotions she’d been feeling since Frank had come clean about Avery Cartwright. That was easier to do than she would have thought. Chapter closed. Now on to the new one.

  They rode the country roads for a while and stopped at a quaint little diner for a late lunch. They didn’t speak about Cartwright or the Theiss house. Instead, over lunch of cheeseburgers and fries they talked about Ryan and his friends being safe, Glinda and Kyle’s upcoming wedding and the Summer Festival.

  “We have some good times ahead,” Frank said. “The rest of the summer is going to be great. When is Laura coming home for her break?”

  “I think a day or two before the wedding. Glinda has requested a simple one, nothing fancy or too expensive. A short mass at St. Paul’s at one o’clock and then the reception afterwards at her and Myrtle’s house. Now, the reception, though, is shaping up to be anything but small and simple.” She laughed. “Myrtle’s inviting half the town. If the weather is nice enough, Glinda wants the reception in their backyard. The old lady is already planning how she’s going to decorate the house and grounds. Lots of ribbon and balloons, I think.”

  “Oh, Myrtle will be in seventh heaven.” Frank popped another French fry into his mouth.

  “She already is. She’s planning the menu for the reception, too. Got to have lots of shrimp and finger foods. She’s calling Kate at the Delicious Circle today and ordering the appetizers and the wedding cake. Five tiers, I hear. I can imagine what that wedding cake is going to look like with Myrtle ordering it. Doubtless it’ll be half icing with her sweet tooth. And Myrtle, as you know, is insisting on paying for everything.”

  “That woman. Such an odd bird, yet she can be generous, can’t she?”

  “She can.”

  “We’ve got some good friends here in Spookie, don’t we? We have built a good life.” Frank reached out and took her hand. Kissed it. The man could be so romantic when he wanted to be. In his own way, he was trying to ask for her forgiveness for what he’d done in secret the days before. “I’m content with it.”

  “So am I,” she replied. She refused to dwell on Avery Cartwright and what had happened. She knew, as Frank did, that the situation wasn’t over by a long shot. There would be further repercussions to what Frank had done yesterday and Frank, she could tell, was still upset over the death and uneasy about what form those repercussions might take. She didn’t want to think about that, either. So, as the two of them ate their meal, smiled perfunctorily, and made plans as if nothing had changed when it had, her thoughts lingered on the house at 707 Suncrest and how she was going to stage her painting later in the day. It was easier to think of that than Avery’s guilt and death.

  When they arrived home, Frank brewed a pot of coffee in the kitchen. As he waited for it to finish he remarked, “I think, if you don’t mind, I’m going to go upstairs to my study and work on my book.” Frank often wrote on his work in progress when reality got too tense for him. It was his therapy.

  “I don’t mind, honey. I’m going to gather my art stuff together and drive over to the Theiss house to continue my painting of it. It’s about the right time to capture the soft light I’m looking for.”

  She caught Frank’s disapproving glance and hastily tagged on, “I won’t go inside. I won’t roam around the property. I’ll just sit in front on my chair with my easel and paint it from the sidewalk. I promise.”

  Frank started to say something, then stopped, his hand gesture one of capitulation. “All right. But if you need anything, call me. Keep your phone in your pocket. If anything weird happens or if you are uneasy about anything, call me. I mean it. I have to know you’ll be safe.”

  She felt like a child and her pride bristled a little at his words, but she promised. “And I won’t be gone past dark. I’ll be home no later than seven. Just a few hours. That’s when night comes.”

  Frank accepted that, gave her a last kiss, grabbed his cup, and went up to his study.

  Abigail loaded up her art supplies in the car and headed to Suncrest. She couldn’t wait to start the next painting. She couldn’t wait to get back to the house.

  Chapter 10

  The afternoon was suffused in a rosy golden radiance as the car rattled down the gravel road. The light would be perfect for her painting. She’d try to trap its very essence as it washed over the Theiss place. She had to hurry, though. The glow was already fading. She pushed down on the accelerator pedal as the gravel beneath the wheels sprayed higher around the car.

  Abigail’s thoughts touched momentarily on Claudia and Ryan. After she was finished at the house today, she’d run by Claudia’s and see how she was doing. Waiting for Ryan and the others to come home must be hard on her. Abigail knew too well how time could drag when waiting for someone. A visit from a friend might cheer her up. Of course, she’d call Frank when she was on her way and let him know what she was doing. If she wasn’t home by dark, he’d worry.

  She parked the car before the house, getting out she glanced up, and her mouth dropped open. The house appeared as if it had gone through an earthquake. The facade of the structure beneath one of the upstairs windows had partially collapsed into the front yard. Some of the other outer windowsills, the ones that weren’t on the ground, hung precariously above her. A few of the other upper windows had shattered and there was slivers of wood, and broken glass glittering in the grass, all over the lawn.

  Tipping her head up, shading her eyes with her hands, she inspected the damage. She moved up the weed lined sidewalk and stood at the bottom of the steps. There was something tucked right up under the shattered window of the girls’ room. Something shiny and crimson. When she sidled to the left or right, the sun glinted off the object stuck between the drooping windowsill and the crumbling wall. What was it? It appeared to be a small tin box of some sort.

  A shadow drifted across the open hole above her where a window had once been. She kept her eyes on the opening and waited. The shadow bobbed back and forth one more time, then disappeared. What or who was up there? She hadn’t imagined it, she was sure. There was something there. Frozen on the sidewalk, she stared at the hole for a long time. The shadow did not reappear. Could she have only thought she’d seen something? With the coming twilight, the house was dark inside and the trees around the building were swaying. A shadow could have just been a shadow.

  The shiny object above her once more snagged her eye and she had to see what it was. Something told her it was important. She had to get to it somehow. It was very high up, near to where the windowsill had once been. Lowering her eyes, she hunted on the ground around her for anything she could use to reach up to the object, dislodge, and jiggle it down.

  On the side of the house was a large downed limb; most likely brought to the earth during that last awful storm. Abigail walked over to it and, after stripping away the unneeded leaves and minor branches, dragged the main limb to the front of the house. Lifting it up, she tried to use it to extricate the object. The limb wasn’t quite long enough. She abandoned it and went in search of a longer branch. Trudging through the weeds and tall grass, she came across another downed limb. After yanking the excess limbs and leaves off she went back to the front of the house and repeated her earlier task. The limb, also, was a tad too short. Darn. She spent more time looking for another longer orphaned limb, but couldn�
�t find one. She was also conscious she’d broken her promise to Frank by traipsing around the yard. Oh well. Frank didn’t have to know she had.

  “Now what am I going to do?” she complained, staring up at the unknown object trapped between the window’s crumbling outer windowsill and the collapsing window frame. There was only one thing she could do. She would have to go up into the girls’ room and try to retrieve the object from the inside. From that angle it would be easy to reach with just her hands.

  Don’t wander around the yard...don’t go in the house, Frank had warned. Everyone had warned. But she had to get that object, that box, and see what was in it. Perhaps it contained one of the house’s secrets. Her curiosity, as always, nudged her forward.

  The light of day dwindled further as unexpected clouds rushed in to darken everything. Now there were shadows floating around everywhere.

  She had to go inside, go up those stairs and into that room just one last time. Who would know if she never told anyone she had? Looking around guiltily, she sucked in her breath, and climbed up the porch steps, sidestepping the broken one. The inside of the house was as she’d left it. Gloomy, dusty and frozen in another time. She made her way through the entryway, through the living room and to the foot of the steps going upstairs. The inside of the house she moved through hadn’t been affected. There were no crumbling walls or ceilings on the first floor. The gyrating shadows and loud silence were spookier than the last time she’d been inside, though. Probably because it was later in the day.

  Get in quick, get what you want and get out.

  She ascended the stairs. The door on Jeanette and Imelda’s room was closed. Standing before it in the dim hallway, ear against the wood, she listened. She hadn’t forgotten the shadow in the window opening. She heard nothing on the other side. Nothing. Reaching out, her fingers gripped the doorknob and twisted. The door creaked open and she was facing the hole in the wall that had once been a window. Soft evening light and fresh air filled the room.