Haunted

by

Melanie Jackson

Version 1.2 – May, 2011

Published by Brian Jackson at KDP

Copyright © 2011 by Melanie Jackson

Discover other titles by Melanie Jackson at www.melaniejackson.com

This book is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locals or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

Chapter 1

“You scored a fifty percent on your basic firearms aptitude test?” the Chief bellowed from behind his desk.  “Boston, explain!”

Gordon and I stood side-by-side in front of the Chief’s desk at full attention.  Neither of us looked at all excited at being given an opportunity to explain.  Blue sat at my side looking grave as well.  She doesn’t like being yelled at either.

“I was uninspired, sir,” I tried by way of explanation.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?  I’d get more intelligible responses talking with your dog,” the Chief complained, exactly as I suspected he might.  “Gordon, explain!” he demanded, redirecting his anger toward my mentor.

“I can’t explain, sir.  It’s as if…  it’s as if, at least when it comes to firearms, that she’s got a resistance to training.”

“Is this true, Boston?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And?”

I stood at full attention and considered the possible ways to answer such an ambiguous question.  I considered lying.  Finally, I decided that the God’s honest truth might make for the best outcome.

“Sir, I could never imagine employing a deadly weapon, such as a firearm, to subdue a fugitive.”

“Meaning?”

“I could never, ever, shoot someone in the line of duty.”

The Chief looked for a moment as if I’d just shot him with one of those lethal weapons.  He recovered quickly.

“Well, I suppose that poses a problem or two, doesn’t it?” he said pointedly.

“Sir, my father always told me: don’t carry the gun if you don’t plan on using it.”

This gave the Chief something more to chew on.

“Sound advice,” he acknowledged.  “However, I gave you a direct order to be armed by the end of this month or you’re out on your ear.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you seriously prepared to pay the penalty for your defiance of a direct order?”

“I’m not sure,” I said tentatively.

“You’re not sure of what?”

“Sir, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure that I want to be a meter maid anymore, let alone a police officer.”

I’d let that slip more abruptly then I had planned.  In any case, I needed to tell the boss of my thoughts and feelings sooner or later.  Meanwhile, the Chief looked a little shell-shocked from the bomb I’d just dropped on him.  As usual, his face soon resumed its typical look of authority and calm.

“So, how long have you been planning on leaving us?”

I hated the fact that he chose to phrase the question that way.

“It’s not that I’ve been planning anything, I’ve just been talking over possibilities with Alex.”

“Such as?”

“Such as… working for him as a consulting detective. A lot fewer bodies in his line of work.”

The Chief mulled this over for a moment.  Gordon was playing it smart by remaining quiet, though I’m sure there were plenty of comments he wanted to make right now.  Then the Chief set his jaw as he always did when he’d come to an important decision.

“I think you’d be good at it.”

“What, sir?”

“I think you’d be a fine consulting detective.”

“But the current job, sir.”

“Oh, cut the crap, Boston.  We both know that your talents are wasted in your current job.”

I wanted to jump across his desk and hug him for being so understanding and supportive.  Instead, I let a small smile play across my lips.  I think he could read the relief on my face.

“Now, as to your punishment,” the Chief continued, “I’ve given it a great deal of thought,” which was rather odd considering we’d only just spoken, “and I’ve decided to place you on suspension for one month.”

Suspension!  No way!  I was about to object when I realized what the Chief was doing.  He had just given me one month to get my head together and decide what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.  What a doll he could be, even when he’s angry and confused.  If only it didn’t mean having a suspension on my record.  Oh well, that’s how the dice fall sometimes.

The important part was that I was free.  Free from the drudgery of having to get up every morning at six.  Now I could take my time, have a cup of tea while I browse the papers, and even take longer walks with Blue.  I felt a huge burden lifted from my shoulders.  One month of freedom.  What was I going to do with all that time?

“Sir?”

“Gordon?”

“What about me?”

“Gordon, I’d like to see a lot less of you.  So, get out of my office, get back on duty, and stop wasting my time,” the Chief instructed.

Gordon was out of the office faster than you can say ‘Uncle Frank fell in the commode and Lassie’s had a conniption’.  This left the Chief and me alone in his office to talk freely.  Or so I thought.  And boy was I wrong.

“Chief, I just want to say…”

“Boston, you have a lot of balls walking into my office in front of a fellow officer and telling me that you don’t want to do your job, let alone any job, anymore.”

“Sorry?”

“You heard me.  Now, cut the crap and tell me what’s really going on.”

I thought for a moment.  Alright, the truth hadn’t worked as well as expected.  I figured I could try lying but then realized that there was no way I could get away with lying to the Chief.

“I might want to get pregnant,” I blurted before the thought was fully formed.

“Pregnant?  Boston, what the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m tired, sir,” I finally admitted.

“Tired?”

“Real tired.”

“Tired of what?”

“I’m tired of all the jibes and laughter at my expense.  I’m tired of working in a dead end job.  I’m tired of all the things I see, all the dead bodies and such.  I’m tired of having to deal with those left behind.  But most of all, I’m think I’m tired of being used.”

Wow.  Where did all that come from?  Blue whined as if in acknowledgement of my woes.  I felt like I was waiting for the scales of justice to balance my load of emotional baggage versus my job.  After what seemed like an eternity, the Chief looked up and I could see that I had won my case.  I’ll always wonder if it was the accusation of using me that swayed him.

“Make that one month medical leave,” the Chief amended.

I half expected the Chief to continue: “But I’d better see you armed if you ever decide to come back.”  He had the good taste to refrain from saying it though.

“Yes, sir!” I barked in my loudest, inadequate voice.  “Sir?”

“Boston?”

“About my current shift?”

“Oh yeah.”

The Chief hemmed and hawed for a time, then came to the only conclusion he could.

“Would you mind covering your shift today, Boston?”

“No, not at all, sir.”

“But then I want you out.  For one month.  I’m serious!”

“Yes, sir!”

“Dismissed!”

“Yes, sir!”

So, one month medical leave it was.  I clicked my heels together, turned, and let myself out of his office, Blue at my heels.  My joy didn’t last. Gordon was waiting in ambush in the corridor outside.

“So, tell me, Boston, what the hell was all that going on in there?” he insisted.

“What the hell are you talking about, Gordon?”

“Are you in, or are you out?” he insisted.

“Why do you need to know?” I insisted back.

“I just need to know whether I should continue planning your going away party or not,” Gordon replied, laughing out loud.

I couldn’t believe I’d stepped right into that one.  Several other officers in the area, some of them that I considered to be on my side, laughed along with Gordon.  I felt so humiliated.  Blue and I walked away without saying another word.

*  *  *

Soon the monotonous rhythm of chalking tires helped to settle my mind, but it didn’t block my thoughts.  I continued to run my conversation with the Chief over again in my mind in an attempt to glean new meaning from it.  What did I mean by trying to quit my job?  I hadn’t planned to do that when I came in this morning.  Was I really so dissatisfied at work?  Sure, I’d discussed going independent with Alex a time or two, but I hadn’t made any firm plans.  On the other hand, why was the Chief so eager to get rid of me?  Had he already found a replacement?

I had to admit that I was probably a little stunned.  Never had I had such a morning.  Never had I had such news to share with Alex when I got home.  Now that was food for thought. What would Alex say? I really didn’t know.

Just then I came upon a woman on the corner frantically flagging me down.  As I pulled closer and stopped, I saw that it was our new elementary school principle, Mrs. Sarah Hawks.  She had only been on the job a few weeks after her predecessor’s untimely demise.

“Hi, Sarah,” I began, assuming a familiarity we had yet to build between us.

“Hello, Officer Boston,” she replied, refusing my offer at accelerated friendship.

“What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could help me with some traffic control issues.”

I like the way she phrased that.  She almost made it sound like part of my job description.  I refrained from pointing out that moving traffic was none of my concern.  Instead, I dashed in where others would have, more wisely, feared to tread.

“I’ll do what I can.  What seems to be the problem?”

“One of our crossing guards called in sick today at the last minute.  We’re searching for a substitute.  In the meantime, we’re all helping out.”

“That’s nice,” I replied, skeptically.

“I wonder if you could do me the favor of filling in for an hour while I go check on what’s holding things up.”

“Well, I don’t know.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t ask, but I happen to have a pressing personal matter to attend to as well.”

“Say no more,” I interrupted.  Because, really, I didn’t want to hear anymore.  “I’d be glad to fill in for one hour while you see to things.”

“Why, thank you, Officer Boston, I mean, Chloe.”

Sarah handed me the handheld STOP placard and her iridescent orange vest.  I walked Blue over to a shady place on the grass from where she could keep track of things and took up my post on the corner waiting for my first customers. I would have felt more at ease if the vest had fit.

The first to arrive were two young boys discussing baseball.  One wore a Yankees cap and the other a White Sox cap.  When they saw me, they froze.

“Who are you?  Where’s Mr. Flanders?” the Yankee asked.

“My name is Chloe Boston.  I’m filling in as crossing guard until a replacement can be found for Mr. Flanders.”

“Why?  What’s wrong with Mr. Flanders?”

I didn’t know what to say. I only deal with kids when I am dress up as Officer Bill.

“He’s probably dead,” the Sox fan offered.

His friend looked alarmed.

“I very much doubt that he’s dead,” I said trying to smooth things over.

“But you’re not sure,” the Sox fan challenged.

“No, I’m not,” I admitted.  “But I certainly wish him well and I think you should do the same.”

“Whatever,” the Yankee replied, his moment of compassion gone.

“The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out…” the Sox fan began.

“Stop that!” I insisted. Were all boys this morbid?

I crossed the two boys without further incident.  As they walked away, continuing to chat and even getting into a shoving match, I contemplated how long it had been since I’d hung around young boys.  It had been so long that I’d forgotten how horrible such a chance encounter could be.

I waited, now more nervous than ever.

My next encounter couldn’t have been more different.  A mother pushing a stroller worked her way toward me followed by a little blonde girl, no older than six, walking at her side.  The little girl had wild curls making her look like Shirley Temple.  The baby in the stroller must have been a newborn.

“I drew this,” the little girl wanted me to know.

At the same time she pushed a piece of paper at me containing colorful squiggles and lines.  I crouched down and accepted the drawing and was instantly awed by her brilliance.  She was going to be a Picasso, I was certain.

“This is very pretty,” I replied. “I like the colors.”

“You can have it if you want,” she offered, smiling.  “I have plenty more at home.”

All at once, I imagined this little angel was mine.  I saw myself sweeping her off her feet and into my arms.  She giggled all the while.  I even felt her wiggle for freedom and smelled the overpowering scent of baby shampoo in her silken soft hair.

Then the mother asked the incredible.

“Would you like to hold the baby?”

Would I ever?, I almost screamed.  And the woman reached into the stroller, lifted her baby and placed him in my arms.

“His name is Herman,” she explained.

Don’t you worry, Herman, I almost cooed.  I won’t hold your name against you.  And all of a sudden, it seemed possible that I could be happy with a male child.  He was so perfect, in every way.  When I came to my senses, there were other kids waiting to cross.  I handed the child back and resumed my position of authority amongst the growing chaos on the corner.

After I crossed everyone, I waved goodbye to my two little angels as they strolled away, out of my life probably forever.  The little girl looked back and waved one last time before turning and taking her mother’s hand.  I felt my heart actually ache.

Oh, but to have such a beautiful daughter of my own.  With my luck, I’d probably end up with a boy, just like that rotten one who had passed earlier.  But then again, maybe my boy would be a perfect angel like the one in the stroller.  I watched after the departing family until they were out of sight.

My time as crossing guard was spent alternately loving and loathing the children who passed.  It seemed that the closer they got to their teen years, and hence, puberty, the more obnoxious and estranged they acted.  I began to wonder if I could adopt a female child for her first twelve years then send her away to military school.  It wasn’t until much later that Principal Hawks returned to relieve me.

“Sorry I’m so late,” she acknowledged as she returned.

“What happened to the replacement?”

“It looks like it’s just me today,” she answered with a decidedly sore smirk.  “We’ll have a talk about this at the next parent and teacher meeting,” she assured me.

I left my crossing guard duties with a newfound glow.  It had only been a burst of confused energy in the Chief’s office, but now I really began to wonder in earnest about the idea of starting a family of my own.

Next question: what would Alex have to say?

*  *  *

“Chloe, what’s come over you?” Jeffrey insisted.

“What do you mean?” I responded while I exchanged my heavy patrol boots for my lighter riding sneakers.

“The word is all over the station that you asked the Chief to get you pregnant.”

“What?” I stared blankly, too stunned to be angry.

“I swear it’s true.”

“Where could you have heard of such nonsense?” I demanded.

Jeffrey didn’t need to respond.  It was his eyes that betrayed him.  I followed the direction in which those eyes were pointing, over the cubicle tops toward the braying jackass that was my arch nemesis, Dale Gordon.

“That no good bastard.  He must have been listening at the door,” I said rising from my seat and rushing from my cubicle.

“Now, Chloe,” Jeffrey insisted, but too late.

I stomped from my desk, following that irritatingly loud voice across the room, and eventually found Gordon at the coffee machine, laughing over something, possibly me, with Officer Bryce.  Gordon could tell that I was pissed before I even made it to him.

“Now, hold on, Boston,” he said, raising his hands and backing away.

“You no good bastard,” I began.  “You know, I have half a mind to march in there and tell the Chief that you were listening at his door and you’re now spreading false rumors about the Chief and me.  Why, I should…”  What?

Before I knew what I was doing I was trying to spit on him.  My mouth was dry, which didn’t help, and besides, I wasn’t very good at spitting in the first place.  But I finally got some on him anyway.

“Hey, that’s assaulting a police officer,” Gordon objected.

“No, that’s insulting a police officer.  That’s different,” I pointed out.

It wasn’t until then that I notice Officer Bryce had snuck away from the encounter.

“Boston, I don’t know what you think, but whatever it is, you’re wrong.”

“You know, you’re a snake, Gordon.  And one of these days it’s going to catch up with you.”

“Hey, it was just a joke,” he finally admitted.

“Yeah, some joke.  Can’t you see me laughing,” I said, turning from him and stomping away before I did assault him.

“So, I guess you didn’t ask the Chief to get you pregnant,” Jeffrey said when I returned to my desk.

“No, I did not,” I assured him.  “I said I was thinking about getting pregnant.”

“You?  Pregnant?  I don’t get it.  Is this some kind of joke?” His amazement wasn’t flattering.

“I don’t know.  Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t” I said gathering my things and preparing to leave.  “But there’s only one way to find out, and tonight I plan on practicing should the need to procreate arise.  And you can pass that around the precinct house as fact rather than fiction.”

“You go girl,” Jeffrey called after me.

When Blue and I left the parking lot in my three-wheeler, I had every intention of enjoying my one month leave of absence.  But you know what they say about the best laid plans.

Chapter 2

I planned on having a long discussion with Alex that evening, about a lot of things.  I suspected that I wanted to talk about more than he’d like to hear about.  I thought that I might ease him into discussing some of the tougher subjects by appeasing his appetite, which is always strong at the dinner hour.  I’d gotten a braised short rib recipe from Mr. Jackman that we both adored.  I stopped by the grocer on the way home and bought a large bag of fresh fixings to stir up when I got home.

Alex was still out when I pulled into the driveway.  Most days he worked from home; however, his work was varied and often sent him on short romps across town or even trips cross country.  His car was gone but I knew that he was currently working on a local case and would be home soon, so I got cooking.

Soon the smell of searing meat began to permeate our place instantly making it seem homier.  Next came the aromatics and the braising liquid, in this case a locally brewed porter ale.  The whole lot went into the oven to braise while I worked on the glaze.  Not long after the short ribs started braising I was working on the scalloped potatoes.  All that was left to do was steam some asparagus and toss a fresh, green salad.  And that said nothing of the dessert I’d picked up at Dahlia’s Bakery after the grocer. Normally I would have baked my own, but there wasn’t time.

Instead of walking in and saying hi, like any normal adult would, Alex chose to sneak into the kitchen from the door to his side of the duplex and grab me from behind.  It was so sudden that he almost made me pee my pants.  Fortunately, I was able to restrain my elbow from flying his way as it was want to do when grabbed without warning.  Instead I eased back into his body and let his arms and hands caress me.

“Say, that isn’t braised short ribs I smell cooking, is it?” he asked, sniffing at the air.

“With all the fixings,” I purred in reply.

“Great, let’s eat,” he suggested, too suddenly pulling away.

Isn’t that just like a man?  One minute he’s holding you, about to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and suddenly he’s distracted by something he wants more.  Like food.  I had to admit that the short ribs smelled great.

“Why don’t you pour us some wine while I finish the meal,” I suggested.

“You even got wine.  That’s why I love you,” Alex said, grabbing me again and kissing me on the neck.

This time he made me giggle, but just a little bit since I knew it was coming.  The kiss was loud and ticklish.  Then he was gone again.

“So, what did you do at work today?” he called from the dining room.

“Oh, nothing much.  I quit my job.”

He was back in the kitchen door in a flash with a concerned look on his face and the bottle of wine in his hand.

“You quit your job?”

“Only for a little bit.  Then the Chief suspended me.”

“You got suspended?”

“That didn’t last either, though.  I ended up on a one month leave of absence instead.”

“You’re off for a month?  Are you alright?  You’re not sick are you?”

“No, of course not.  I just needed some time off.”

“What do you plan to do with your month off?” Alex asked, finally beginning to smile.

“Well, that’s something I wanted to talk with you about during dinner.”

“Forget waiting for dinner,” Alex suggested, returning to the dining room after the corkscrew I’d laid out.  “Let’s talk now,” he called back into the kitchen.

“Well, I did have a few ideas.”

“Such as?”

“Sleeping late, reading, and long walks with Blue.  Things like that.  Maybe take up painting,”

“Those all sound nice.”

“Maybe have a baby.”

Alex was back at the kitchen door in a flash.  This time he looked terror stricken.

“Did you just say you want to have a baby?”

“No, I didn’t,” I replied, trying to calm him down.  “I’ve just been thinking about it.  You know, if we’re going to start a family, now would be a good time.”

“Oh,” Alex replied, looking a little less tense, but only a little.  It was obvious he could tell he was about to tread on dangerous ground.  “You’re right, let’s talk after dinner.”

“I said we should talk during dinner,” I reminded him, carrying the side dishes to the table.

I had set a beautiful table, using a couple settings of my grandmother’s china and silver that I had borrowed from Mom.  A burgundy colored, cotton table cloth and matching napkins I’d bought on sale, and even matching candles, had all been laid out.  All that was needed were two young lovers and some stimulating conversation.

After carrying the short ribs to the table, everything was ready and I began to serve.  The food was sumptuous.  We both talked about it a lot.  I couldn’t help but notice that neither of us appeared willing to resume our conversation about having children.  It finally made it to the point that I couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Having a child isn’t the only idea I was toying with,” I blurted.

“Good!” Alex replied, a little too enthusiastically.  “I mean, it’s good to have options,” Alex added, tentatively.  “What other ideas have you had?”

“Well, do you remember talking about the two of us working together?”

I really wasn’t sure how Alex was going to respond.  I knew that he took his business seriously and would do nothing to chance harming it or his customers.  At the same time, he really didn’t want to talk about having a child.

“Alright, let’s talk about that possibility,” he began.  “I, for one, think that it’s a fantastic idea.”

“Well, I do too,” I told him.

“Good.  Then let’s do it.”

Well now, that was easy.

“In fact, I’m glad you brought this up now,” Alex continued.  “I just got a rush case the other day that I don’t have the time for.  It’s for an older client.  I’d rather not decline, but I’d have to drop everything else I’m doing to handle it.”

“Sounds great.”

“The client lives on the coast, in a town called Thorny Springs.  The job requires an initial interview, which should just be a day trip, but everything else you can handle from home.”

“It keeps sounding better.”

“As I understand it, it’s a missing persons case that the police aren’t willing to open.  It’s an old case.  Seems that it’s important to have it solved soon.”

“Alex, this case sounds perfect.  I’m great at finding missing things. When do I start?”

“Why don’t I give the client a call after dinner?  If he’s amenable, I see no reason why you shouldn’t start tomorrow.”

“Oh, Alex,” I said, rising and running around the table to give him several big kisses.  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I said between every kiss.

The last kiss was deep and lingered.

*  *  *

I woke bright and early the next day to a task I wasn’t looking forward to but could no longer ignore.  The planning of cousin Althea’s baby shower.  I laid in bed several minutes longer than usual girding my loins for the upcoming torture.  Then, all at once, I burst out of bed and set about the task of starting my day.  Alex, being a late riser, groaned and rolled over in his pillow to cover his face with the sheets and try to ignore my very existence.

First, get dressed.  Second, make coffee.  Third, walk Blue.  I ran through the process, but this morning I was experiencing something special.  You see, as of last night, Alex had made me an official consulting detective.  Of course, there were still a string of community college classes and other certification courses that I needed to attend and pass, but in the meantime, at least temporarily, he had made me a consulting detective with his firm.

You see, true to his word, Alex had called our client the previous night and explained that his wife, an experienced investigator in her own right, had accepted the case.  Above the hissing and popping of an ancient line I was allowed to speak for several minutes with an elderly Mr. Cartwright who established the time of ten o’clock in the morning, two days hence, as the moment to meet at his home in Thorny Springs to discuss the matter in detail.  I considered asking him why we couldn’t discuss the matter right there on the phone, but suspected that old clients required the personal touch.  Besides, he probably wanted to get to know me a little before hiring me.

That left me one day to have fun, only one day, and I planned on taking full advantage of it.  Now, if only there wasn’t Althea’s baby shower with which to contend.  I thought of the possibility of spending my day, hip deep in blue and pink crepe paper, and yellow plastic cake decorations, due to the fact that the stubborn couple refused to find out the sex of the child.  Frankly, in spite of my own recent thoughts, the thought of all the planning made me sick to my stomach.  But there was one woman who I knew had baby on the brain twenty-four hours a day, at least of late, and she probably already had the blueprints for a perfect shower in her head.  Since there was no other option to pursue and have any free time, I went after the one option I had at hand before I changed my mind.

“Hello, Rosemary,” I began.  “This is Chloe.”

I hadn’t wanted to call my mother-in-law and had rethought the matter twice while dialing.  It was the investigative job at hand the drove me to it, I assured myself. The job had to come first.

“Oh, hello, Chloe,” Rosemary returned.  “Any news?”

Of course, I knew perfectly well to what she was referring.  She was referring to baby news, what else?  I actually took a measure of grim satisfaction in answering this time.

“No, no news on that front.  However, since you brought up the topic, I was wondering if I could get your help with something.”

“Shoot.”

Rosemary was usually not so no nonsense.

“I got roped into arranging this baby shower for my cousin, Althea,”

“Yes?”

She was apparently going to make me say it.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to…”  I choked on the word

“Help?” she said, completing my sentence for me.  “You’d like me to help, wouldn’t you, Chloe?” she continued, smugly.

“Yes, Rosemary.  I’d like you to help.” I admitted.

“Why, Chloe,” she said in her patronizing voice, “of course I’d be willing to help.  When is the event?”

“Five days.”

“And how far along are you with the preparations?”

“I haven’t started yet.”

“Oh, Chloe.”  There, she did it again. This woman annoyed me all the way to my back teeth. “Don’t you know that you need to book the caterers and select the food weeks in advance of such an event?  And the printers for the invitations would need advanced warning.  Then there’s booking the venue.”

“I was thinking of something smaller, like potluck, maybe.”

“Potluck?”

“I thought we’d just Xerox the invitations and mail them out.”

“Xerox?”

“And the venue is my home.”

“Home?”

“Look, Rosemary.  I’ll be paying for this event out of my own pocket, so the party is going to have to live down to my lowly standard of living.  So, think inexpensive.”

“Inexpensive?”

All of these single word responses didn’t bode well for the outcome.  And she spat out the words “potluck”, “Xerox”, “home”, and especially “inexpensive” as if they tasted foul in her mouth.  I was afraid for a moment she might faint.

“Rosemary, are you alright? Because if this is beyond you….”

“I’m fine, Chloe.  It just took me a moment or two to adjust to your way of thinking on the matter.”

“Great.  So, you’ll do it?”

“Have you got a guest list?”

“I can email you one in an hour.”

“Do it. I’ll manage the rest.”

And that was that.  Rosemary was fully onboard.  Not only that, but she seemed to be taking charge.  And with any luck at all she’d agree to come to the party, adding one more person to the sparse guest list.

Within minutes I was on my PC typing up a list of a dozen names, half of which I thought might actually attend for my sake.  Then I remembered that at least two of the Elvises had planned on being in town some time soon.  Heck, I added the addresses of all the Elvises I personally knew.  I clicked “Send” and party planning was under way, and it sure didn’t need my help anymore.

Which left the remainder of the day for pleasure.

*  *  *

After dressing in my grubbiest clothes, I headed out to the backyard to tend to the pumpkin patch.  Not that it ever needed much tending.  I had started the pumpkin patch earlier in the year with Jacky, the Pumpkin Thief, and ever since he had been showing exceptional care and skill when it came to making our crop flourish.  All with little need of my help.  In fact, when I rounded the corner of the house, I found Jacky down on his knees, weeding between the rows of massive vines leading to big, beautiful, orange pumpkins. And when I say big, I mean big.

“Good morning, Jacky.”

“Blue,” he called, completely ignoring me for the time being in preference to his favorite.

Fortunately, Jacky was one of Blue’s favorites as well.  She came bounding, in her own fashion, round the corner of the house at the sound of Jacky’s voice.  The dash ended in Jacky’s arms.  There were lots of kisses and hugs going back and forth.  After an adequate tongue bath, Jacky turned to face me.

“Hello.”

“Jacky, the gardens look beautiful,” I complimented.

And I wasn’t lying.  There were four garden patches in all, each measuring approximately twenty feet square.  These squares were themselves laid out in a square with a gravel path between them forming a crossroads in the middle.  Around the outside of this central formation were my flower borders.  Jacky had learned quickly and now took care of the flowers as well.  I wondered about getting his mother to come over and see the gardens he tended for me.  After all, she was the rightful recipient of all these free and talented gardening services.  At the very least, I supposed that I should point out to his protective mother that her son has found his chosen vocation.

I joined Jacky in weeding and soon we had one patch clear of the major stuff.  Jacky wanted to keep on going until the patch was perfect.  I pointed out that maybe our time could be better spent measuring the pumpkins so that we could track their growth up until Halloween.

We used a standard cloth measuring tape, the type used by seamstresses, to get the circumference from each of the largest pumpkins.  Of course, we had to do the measuring in segments since our tape was only sixty inches long, far short of the girth of our largest pumpkins.  One of the pumpkins already measured over one-hundred inches around and it still had couple months left to grow, if the weather held.  Jacky giggled every time we slipped the measuring tape around a new pumpkin.  Like most people, I think he’d only seen such a tape used to measure women’s waists.  This was a new experience, and all new experiences were fun to Jacky.

We concluded by spreading mulch from our mulch pile.  The ground between the pumpkins was dark brown, rich with peat and other organic nutrients.  We seemed to spend almost as much time on the soil as the plants. Pumpkins eat a lot of nutrients and the soil must be replenished.

When we were done, Jacky checked his watch, a new piece of equipment since last I’d seen him, and announced that he had to go home for lunch.  I waved goodbye and soon packed it in myself, gathering Blue on the way, who was perfectly happy digging for gophers in the fallow portions of the flower garden.

Stepping out of the shower, I came to the realization that simply showering wasn’t good enough.  I deserved to be pampered during my first day of leave.  I checked via a phone call to Jillian’s Spa and found that they’d had a cancellation for early this afternoon.  I decided to take full advantage of the slot by ordering the works.  And if you order the works, you even get to bring your dog along.

I don’t know if you’ve ever had hot rock massage.  Special, heated rocks are used in the massage, then laid atop your body to warm the skin and muscles.  At one point, just because I wanted to see what it would feel like, and it was a slow day at the spa, I had three women give me a manicure, pedicure, and facial at the same time.  I was in heaven.

Then I saw the bill.  That almost took my mood down a few notches, but I shrugged it off.

By the time I stepped out of the spa I was walking on air.  No really, I was.  Have you ever had that feeling, after having a pedicure, that you have new feet or that some special, bouncy insole has been placed in your shoes?  Well, I was feeling it.  So Blue and I went for a walk, and did a little window shopping along the way.  Blue ended up being a little crowded in the sidecar having to share her space with several packages.

I made it home fully prepared to make dinner.  Alex was waiting for me.  He was dressed and looked good.  He apparently had made alternate plans for the evening.

“Get dressed, I’m taking you out to dinner,” he announced.

How fortuitous that I’d just bought a new dress and shoes.  I slipped into the bedroom to get dolled up while Alex made us drinks.

When I stepped back into the living room, Alex was sitting on the sofa with Apollo fully ensconced in his lap and Aphrodite making moves like she wanted on as well.  For some reason, my cats adored Alex.  In response, Alex was always a little tentative around them because they sometimes got aggressive in their play and “attacked” him.  At these times, Alex would scream like little girl and call for help.  I helped him now by removing the unwanted cats from his lap and then using sticky tape to get the cat hair off his dress slacks.

Dinner that night was heavenly.  We had Italian.  The meal began with fresh baked bread glazed with olive oil and herbs and served with a cheese spread that was out of this world.  I had the gnocchi in pesto sauce.  Alex had the seafood fettuccini.  We shared a bottle of wine during the meal and finished it off with tiramisu.

Even more fun was snuggling on the sofa in my pajamas and watching movies that we rented at the local video store.

I fell asleep in Alex’s arms.  He carried me to bed that night and I didn’t wake until morning.

Chapter 3

The morning air was crisp and clean.  The drive through the coastal redwoods to the sea was uneventful and pleasurable.  It felt odd to be without Blue, but I knew she was having more fun staying at home with Alex than she would have had driving with me.  Besides, I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask my client how he felt about dogs during our brief telephone conversation.

I used my new GPS system mounted prominently on my dashboard to guide me to my destination address in Thorny Springs.  The town was small, consisting of only a few stores dotting the highway and homes in the surrounding hills.  The air was heady with the smell of the pines, yet beneath it you could also sense that the sea was near.

I parked at the curb in front of the Cartwright residence and spared a few moments to have a look around.  The home was old and of modest size for a mansion.  Built of brick and stucco, it hi behind ivy and other well established greenery.  The lawn and gardens around it were elaborate, but it was obvious that they had been ill-tended in recent months.  The house was set well back from the street and the neighboring houses didn’t crowd it.  The place was really quite charming in an old-fashioned way.

I exited my vehicle and walked the winding path to the front steps.  There I straightened my court suit, banged the knocker, and waited to meet my first professional client.

The door opened and an unhappy looking woman dressed in a white uniform stood glaring at me.  She looked as if she was expecting me to announce that I was selling Girl Scout Cookies.  After due consideration, she made the following pronouncement.

“Ms. Boston, I presume.  I’m Miss Hailey, Kate’s nurse.  Won’t you come in?”

Her request was more a demand than a polite question.  I stepped into the foyer of the gorgeous home.  I tried not to let my eyes stray too far about the place but still could see that the residence was tastefully furnished in a traditional, if dated, fashion.  The nurse began to walk away.

“Wait here while I get Miss Cartwright,” she ordered, turning her back on me rudely.

So, I waited.  I didn’t have long to wait before a rather dashing, elderly gentleman stepped from the shadows in the corner of the room.  I figured that I must have missed his presence when I’d first entered, but on second consideration I wondered how I could possibly have missed him at all.  He was wearing a well cut, wool, double-breasted suit, a striped shirt with white collar, and a bright red ascot.  In any case, he stepped from out of the shadows and walked toward the door to more properly greet me.

“Hello, Ms. Boston.  I’m Tom Cartwright, Kate’s brother.  I’d like to welcome you to the family home.”

Rather than offer a hand, Mr. Cartwright bowed low.  His manners were impeccable, his smile charming but I felt uncomfortable in his presence.  “Hello, Mr. Cartwright,” I said, bowing as well.  “My name is Chloe, which I wish you would call me.”

“I’m an old-fashioned gentleman, Ms. Boston.  I find it hard to overcome old habits, and one of those old habits is showing due courtesy to ladies.  So, I wonder if you’d forgive me if I did not acquiesce to your request and instead continued to refer to you by your surname.”

“I must admit that I’d have a hard time thinking of you as Tom,” I replied, not missing a beat. Maybe the whole first name thing just wasn’t my thing. No one seemed very comfortable with it. “Perhaps we should both stick to the older, tried and true ways.”

“Well put, Ms. Boston.  Now, please, would you accompany me into the parlor to meet my sister, Kate?”

Wishing instead to sit with Mr. Cartwright and hear about his case, I none-the-less allowed him to show me into the parlor to meet his sister.  “It is actually my sister and not me who is your prospective employer.”

“Oh.”

Mr. Cartwright led me into the empty parlor which was quite sunny and pleasant.  It didn’t take long before the nurse wheeled Miss Cartwright into the room.

“Oh, you’re already here,” the nurse said in an irritated tone.  “I suppose I’ll leave you then.”

I couldn’t help but notice that the nurse didn’t acknowledged Mr. Cartwright at all.  There must be some deep-seated animosity there, I thought.  Regardless, I was pleased and the air seemed to weigh less when Nurse Hailey left the room.

“I see you’ve met Thomas.  I’m so glad.”

In Ms. Cartwright I found a withered, elderly woman confined to a wheelchair.  She looked possibly older than her years, as if something tenacious was eating away at her.  Though her body was spent, her eyes were bright with intelligence.

“Forgive me, Ms. Boston, for not rising to greet you.  My brother and I believe strongly in formality, but alas I’m no longer able to perform my responsibilities as a hostess.”

“Please, don’t concern yourself, Ms. Cartwright.  It makes no difference to me whether I greet you sitting or standing.  Besides, at my height we can still see eye-to-eye.”

“Oh, but it makes a great difference to me.  You see, I was only just recently confined to this chair.  Before that, I led a quite active life; while now, I find that I am dying.” She sounded more annoyed than bitter.

I flicked a glance to Mr. Cartwright.  He was listening quite intently with an amused interest.  I, for one, liked this lady a great deal.

“Please, have a seat, Ms. Boston.  For I have a story to tell you and I’m afraid it might be quite long.”

I sat on a sofa near the foot of the wheelchair.  I noticed that Mr. Cartwright had taken a seat in the corner of the room to listen as well.  He looked to have succeeded in dissolving back into the shadows.  For some reason, this made me uneasy.  I set my feelings on the matter aside.

I next laid my briefcase, one that I’d borrowed from Alex, on the coffee table and opened it.  From inside, I pulled a pad of paper, a pen, and a micro-recorder, also borrowed from Alex.

“Do you mind if I record the conversation?”

“Actually, I would prefer that you didn’t,” the elderly woman said.  “Don’t worry.  Although my story is long, all stories grow longer with age, I think you’ll find that a few well chosen notes will satisfy your purposes.”

I put the micro-recorder back in the briefcase, closed it, and set the case aside on the floor.  Crossing my legs, I put pen to paper and made a note of the event, time, and date.  Then I looked up and waited for the story to begin.

I didn’t rise until two hours later.

“I don’t know if you recognize my name, Ms. Boston.  But I am a Cartwright, one of a long line of Cartwrights, all from this area.  We were once quite wealthy, though the majority of that wealth was gone before my story begins.  In fact, it was with our financial woes that this story begins since it was these woes that forced our return to this, our ancestral home.

“Ms. Boston, have you ever been in love?”

“Of course.  I’m married to a wonderful man.”

“Well, I first fell in love the year of my eighth birthday.  That was the year that we moved into this grand old house, the same year the young man first appeared to me…”

*  *  *

Unpacking my things was such a terrible burden, especially for an eight year old, and especially in my circumstances.  First, my nanny had been let go which meant that I had to perform the task alone.  Second, my new bedroom was much smaller than my previous rooms in the mansion back home in Seattle.  I soon came to the inevitable conclusion that all my things simply would not fit in the limited space afforded by a single room.

Though I’d complained to Daddy, vociferously, he could, or would, provide no reasonable explanation for why we had been forced to leave our lavish dwelling in Seattle to live in the relative squalor of the pine belt.  Of course, at the tender age of eight, I’d led a relatively pampered and sheltered life, knowing nothing of the financial troubles that were squeezing the life out of my family at the time.  And Daddy managed, quite successfully, to hide such unpleasantries from me until there was no longer an alternative.  But that came much later and isn’t pertinent to the story.

It was while unpacking, while I sat on my bed, crying my heart out, that it first began.  It started with a gentle rattling of the closet door.  At first I didn’t much notice the sound but it became much more prominent.  By then I was afraid that some woodland creature might have become trapped in my closet.  Drying my tears, I crept to the door and opened it, just a crack.  There was nothing inside, except the few clothes I’d managed to cram into the limited space.

I closed the closet door and sat back down on my bed.  The rattling began again the moment the crinolines beneath my dress were crushed against the comforter.  I sat and watched as the door rattled off-and-on.  I considered opening it again, but before I got a chance, it slowly crept open by itself.

“Hello, is there somebody out there?” a male voice called.

It was dark in the closet, but from my bed, I could barely discern the shadowy outline of a boy peeking around my room.

“Hello, is there somebody in there?” I returned.

I’m a naturally brave person, so the idea of finding a boy, about my age, hiding in my closet was of no great concern.  In fact, I found the encounter to be quite amusing and it became even more so when the boy stepped fully into view.  It was then I saw that he was in full costume, as if for a play.

“Oh my,” I exclaimed.  “And what are you doing in my closet?”

“Why, I live here, of course.” he explained.

Why, of course. This was a new game but I was willing to play.

And that was how it all began.  What commenced was one of the most fascinating conversations of my life.  The boy, who turned out to be quite pleasing to look at, was shy at first, but when he latched on to a topic that interested him, he spoke with passion.

“You know why Nelson won at Trafalgar?” he demanded at one point in the conversation.

“Who’s Nelson?” I replied.

“Fortitude.  Shear fortitude,” he insisted, ignoring my question.

We talked for hours about nothing and everything.  When we were through, which we both instinctively knew at the same time, the boy excused himself and returned to his closet.  I closed the door after him out of courtesy, wondering if there was a secret tunnel and where it might lead.

When I told Daddy of the boy living in my bedroom closet, he was not as amused as I had been.  In fact, he was quite upset.  I followed him stomping up the stairs to my room where he threw open the closet door prepared to berate the strange little boy.  But there was nothing inside, nothing but my closely packed clothes.

“That was not funny, Catherine,” he announced.  “I suggest you keep your imaginary friends to yourself from now on.”

So I did.  As time went on, the boy became my best friend.  In fact, he became my only friend.  I soon began spending all my free time with the boy.  He remained at home while I was forced to go to school.  For some odd reason, he was unwilling to stray too far from our home.  Regardless, we played in the yard and I took to pretending he was my brother.

Our relationship became more complicated as we grew older.  Whereas it was a treat to have a playmate living in one’s closet as a child, it could have been a source of embarrassment as I grew into a young woman.  My friend, now a young man himself, made things easier by staying to his closet except when I called him.

Things became even more awkward the day I realized that I loved the young man living in my closet with every bit of my heart, and that he loved me.  I came to this realization during one of our many long conversations during which I brought up the topic of love, about which he had a little to offer in the way of advice.

“Tell me, have you ever been in love?” I asked him.

“Love?  Bah.  What need have we of love?” was his response.

“You love me, don’t you?” I asked tentatively.

“Until the end of time.”

“I love you too.”

“Well, that’s that then.”

Still, our relationship never became physical.  As always, the young man was careful not only to never touch me in a loving way, but to never touch me at all.

As we grew older, our love for one another became deeper.  After my father died, various family members came and went until it was just me in the house being watched over by my brother, Thomas.  Then, just recently, I received some bad news.

During a recent medical examination for a persistent cough, I was told that I have cancer.  I was also told that there’s nothing that can be done for me, other than to ease my pain.  I fear that I am dying, and soon.

Now, before I die, I want to give my love the release he so richly deserves.  I want him to be free to pass on with me.

You see, the one part of the story that I have yet to tell, the part that I’ve been withholding for fear you won’t believe me, is that my gentleman friend is a ghost, Ms. Boston.  A ghost who is bound to this home and must be released before I die.

*  *  *

“A ghost?” I queried, my heart sinking.

“Yes, Ms. Boston.  A ghost,” Miss Cartwright replied.

I looked hard into the face of the old woman hoping to see some sign that this was all a joke.  But other than weariness from the telling of her tale, she showed nothing but stalwart determination.

“What exactly are you asking me to do for you, Miss Cartwright?”

“I’m asking you to pour through our family records and find the identity of our ghost.  I’ve asked him of his background, but thus far he seems to not even know his original name or how he came to be here.  I’m also asking you to find why this ghost is bound to this house so that he can be set free.”

“I see,” I answered, noncommittally.

“You sound disappointed, Ms. Boston.”

“To tell you the truth, I am.”

“Please, take this case seriously since it is of the utmost importance to me that I do not pass on and leave my best friend behind.”

And with that, the old woman began to cough.  She placed a handkerchief to her face to mute the convulsions that wracked her dried up lungs.  When she pulled the kerchief away, I could see the dabs of bright red blood on its fine material that the coughing spell had left behind.

“I’ve worked out all the details with your husband.  I’ve arranged to pay what I think is a fair price for the research to be done.  I beg you, Ms. Boston, even if you don’t believe in the supernatural, I beg you to set an old woman’s mind at ease.

“Now, I’m afraid I’ve said all I can and must leave you. It’s time for my medicine.”

Miss Cartwright used her remaining strength to lift a small silver bell and give it a shake.  Nurse Hailey was in the room in a flash.  Upon entering, she unlocked the wheels of the chair and rolled the woman from the room, all without a single word or sign of acknowledgement.

“I was told that this was to be a simple missing persons case.”  I directed the statement to Thomas Cartwright, who had stepped from the corner back into the room.

“Ms. Boston, I know that my sister’s request sounds crazy.  I myself think that it will amount to nothing.  But it’s important to her.  I do hope you’ll accept the case, if for no other reason then to set a dying woman’s mind at ease.”

That said, Nurse Hailey was back in the room to guide me to the door.  Unable to think of anything else to ask, I said my goodbyes and left.  Once in my car I swore and banged my hands on the steering wheel.

After all, what was Alex going to say when he found out that I planned to take the case?

Chapter 4

“Well, I read your preliminary report from yesterday,” Alex said breezing into the kitchen after his morning cup of coffee.  “Sounds like we’ve hooked ourselves a loon. So, have you turned down the case yet?”

Uh-oh, here it comes already, I thought.  How was I going to go about explaining to Alex that I fully intended to work on this case to its completion?  Let’s try the direct route.

“It’s nothing of the sort.  In fact, I fully intend to work on this case to its completion.”

“What?” Alex said, stopping in mid-sip.

“I plan on accepting the case, Alex,” I reiterated.

“You can’t be serious.  Chloe, if we accept this case we’ll have every whack-nut in a thousand mile radius contracting with us for paranormal investigations.  We’ll become a laughing stock.”

“We will not.  You’re over reacting.”

“Look, Chloe,” Alex said, having a seat and taking that tone with me.  I hate it when he takes that tone with me.  “This is my company.  You work for me now.  I decide which cases we take and which ones we turn down.  And this case I am turning down.”

“Then I’ll work on it on my own.”

“What?  Do you realize what you’re saying?  Are you really prepared to strike out on your own and go into competition with your own husband?”

I hadn’t thought of it that way.

“I’m willing to do what it takes to see this case through to its completion.”

“Look, honey.  Why are you doing this to me?”

“I’m not doing anything to you.  I’m accepting the case for an old woman.  An old woman who’s dying.  So, I’ll do a little investigation, hand over my findings, and that will be that.  The end result being that we’ll put a dying woman’s mind to rest.”

“Chloe, you realize you’ll be accused of using this woman.  We’ll probably get sued.”

“By who?  Who’s going to find out, other than you?”

“Dammit!” Alex exclaimed, checking his watch.  “I’ve got to go out to meet with a client.  What do you say we discuss this later?  In the meantime, would you at least think about what I said?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Alex bent and gave me a peck on the cheek before flying out the door.  I sat and thought about it.  Then I got up and began work on the case.

My first stop was the town newspaper, the Hope Falls Gazette, where I hoped to do some basic background research.  I met Carol at the front desk and she led me into the archives.  There I was given access to a microfiche machine and the central catalog.  It didn’t take long before I was buried in articles pertaining to the Cartwright family.

Catherine Cartwright had been correct in identifying her family as both wealthy and influential at the turn of the twentieth century.  Jason Cartwright had accumulated the family’s great wealth through timber and railroad connections that he played to his advantage, and to his partner’s ruin.  But everything soon fell apart, beginning with the marriage of the elder daughter of the family, Jane, to a man who turned out to be a chiseler.  The family fortunes soon suffered under his direction.  Further calamity struck when soon after the wedding, the youngest son chose to run away with a priceless family heirloom.  He was never seen or heard from again.

The family did move from their lavish home in Seattle to their ancestral home in Thorny Springs during the war.  Little was written of the family afterwards.

I dug deeper after more information on the wedding.  It turned out that the wedding of Jane Cartwright to one Arthur Sherlock occurred on June 30, 1929, at the family ancestral home in Thorny Springs.  It was explained in an article that in this way the wedding could be organized without interfering with the busy operation of the household in Seattle.  There were over five hundred guests in attendance.  The festivities were marred by a confrontation between the youngest Cartwright and Mr. Sherlock.  The groom accused the youngest son of stealing some jewels from the family vault.  The young man stormed off and was never heard from again.

This confrontation seemed the most likely place to begin looking for a ghost stranded in our realm.  But before I could investigate further, I received a call on my cell phone that put my investigation on hold.

*  *  *

“What do you mean Dale abandoned you,” I asked Althea while we stood in the hallway outside her Lamaze class.

“It was before the class, while we were browsing through some literature on the birthing process.  He suddenly turned green and stormed out of the room.  I found him barfing in the bushes out front.  He’s refusing to come back in.”

“Yes, I passed him on the way in.  He looked nervous and upset but wouldn’t talk to me.”

“That’s my Dale, always worried about his little pooky-poo.”

I’ll just bet he is, I thought without saying.  I tried not to be sick at the pet name while I probed for more information.

“Considering that he refuses to talk with me, what exactly is it that you want me to do?” I asked.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

“I’m offering you the honor of being my birthing partner.”

“What!”

“You heard me right.  Aren’t you excited?”

“Maybe a bit too excited,” I suggested.

“Oh, silly you.  Don’t worry, it will be fun.”

“Look, Althea.  I recognize the great honor you’re offering me and all…”

I wasn’t able to finish before the instructor stepped before the class and clapped her hands to get our attention.

“Settle down everyone.  The class is about to begin, so grab your partner and find an open area in which to do your work.”

Althea grabbed my arm and dragged me to the front of the class.

“Hello, I’m Anne Harwood,” the instructor said, extending a hand to me.  “Just call me Coach Anne.”

“Oh, okay.  I’m Chloe Boston,” I said shaking her hand.

“I’m so glad that you were able to fill in at the last minute for Mr. Gordon.  It appears that he may be unable to participate in the birthing process.”

“Wait a second.  This is only for this morning, right?” I asked her.

The instructor simply smiled and clapped her hands together to get everyone in order.  She then moved through the ranks of students introducing herself to other late arrivals.

“This is only for this morning, right?” I asked Althea directly.

“Oh Chloe.  You’re such a silly goose,” Althea replied, skillfully dodging my question all together.  “Let’s do some heavy breathing exercises.”

Althea began hyperventilating, vigorously.  I was pretty sure that she wasn’t performing the breathing exercise correctly, for one thing I assumed you were supposed to be lying down while giving birth, but I let her continue to distract herself.  The instructor wasn’t as lenient.

“What are you doing, Mrs. Gordon?” Ms. Harwood asked in passing.

“Breathing… exercise,” Althea managed to gasp between breaths.

“The thing you should first recognize is that this is a Lamaze class, not a Le Mans class.  Slow your breathing.  Slow.”

I watched in wonder as the instructor used nothing more than a calming voice and a gentle touch to slow Althea’s breathing.  Rather than passing out, as she surely would have if she’d kept panting the way she was, Althea began to smile as her breathing slowed.  I even started to relax a little.  This made me wonder if I might get something out of this class after all.

The class began in earnest.  It didn’t take long before I was performing and demonstrating the various techniques presented by the instructor.  I didn’t do this because Althea didn’t understand or because she was getting the moves wrong.  I did this because I wanted to try the moves out myself to see if they fit me.  I found that most of them were very relaxing, and that they fit me to a tee.  I enjoyed all of them, except for the pushing.

“Gee, Chloe.  I almost feel like I could nurse you through a delivery now.”

I’m not sure she meant that as a compliment, but I decided to take it that way.

“Gee, thanks, Althea.  Wasn’t it interesting to perform the last few exercises side-by-side?”

Althea glowered at me.  Truthfully, I can take anything from Althea, just as long as she doesn’t break out into verse, but she just couldn’t resist.

Chloe, oh Chloe, you wonderful maid,

Canst you see what I see in your trade?

You hide from maternity,

To bolster your maturity,

Oh why, oh why, Chloe, why?

That’s as far as I made it before I had to run out front for fear that I might be joining Gordon with my head in the bushes. I hope Coach Anne had a talk with her about bothering the other mothers.

*  *  *

“So, you absolutely insist on pursuing this case?” Alex persisted after I had made it home.

“Yes,” was my simple reply.

“I guess I’m willing to give you the latitude to do a little research, but that’s all.  Alright?”

“Alright.”

With that, Alex stalked from the kitchen allowing me to get back to my research.  Next step: I needed access to the Cartwright family archives.  That would require a call.

Again, I managed to establish a scratchy connection to the old place in Thorny Springs.  Thomas Cartwright answered the phone.

“Hello, Mr. Cartwright?  This is Chloe Boston.”

“Yes.  What can I do for you, Ms. Boston?”

“I was wondering if you had any old family records or photos at the family home that may be of use in tracking down our subject.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know about that.  Perhaps I should put Kate on the line to answer your question.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to be any bother.”

“No bother at all.  She is still awake. Hold on, please.”

The line went silent for a time, then the voice of Miss Cartwright came on the line, clear as a bell.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Miss Cartwright.  This is Chloe Boston.  I was just talking with your brother over the possibility of stopping by your home to look through any old family records or photos you may have that would help to find our subject.”

The voice that replied sounded tired but fully cognizant.

“Yes.  I believe that we have trunks of such information stored in the attic.  But I’ll warn you now, most of it will be junk and none of it well organized.”

“I can deal with that.  What do you say I stop by tomorrow morning to have a look?”

“Tomorrow morning would be fine.  I’ll instruct Nurse Hailey to admit you in case I am in bed.”

“Thanks,” I said, not looking forward to another encounter with the bad-tempered nurse.

I had barely said my goodbyes and hung up before the phone rang in my hand.

“Hello?”

“Hello, sweetheart,” my dad replied.  “I was wondering if you might want to come over and have a little talk.”

“Talk?  About what?  Dad, are you alright?  Is it Mom?” I ran through all the tortured possibilities in my mind.  Alex.  Where was Alex?  Had he been in an accident?  Was he still alive?

“No, darling.  This is about you,” he replied.

“About me?  What about me?”

“Oh, just things.”

“What things?”

“Like, I heard that you got suspended.”

He’d finally come to the point behind the phone call.

“Oh, that.  That was nothing,” I assured him.

“I also heard that you asked the Chief to get you pregnant.  Is that nothing too?” This time I sensed anger and impatience in his words. “Now, don’t you think we should get together and have a powwow? Or should I just go break his nose?”

“Look, Dad, I can explain everything.”

“That’s what I had in mind.”

“It’s all Dale Gordon’s fault.  In fact, I don’t even think I would have resigned in the first place if I hadn’t felt him beside me, egging me on.”

“Wait a second.  You resigned?  I thought you were suspended.”

“Oh, I was.  You know, come to think of it, I’m not sure that I ever did officially quit my job.  Anyway, that doesn’t matter now since I’m on a leave of absence.”

“Honey, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“Good.  Now, I hope your explanation for having Randy get you pregnant is a little more straightforward.”

“It is.  I’m not even sure I want to get pregnant yet.”

“I didn’t know you were considering it.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“So, you haven’t asked Randy yet, but you’re thinking about it?”

“Dad!  No!  I’ll ask Alex to get me pregnant if I decide to.  Sheesh, what kind of a girl do you think I am?”

“Frankly, I was beginning to wonder.”

Another fifteen minutes on the phone and I had smoothed Dad’s feathers.  I decided that I needed to spend some time digging in the dirt.  Jacky was already working in the pumpkin patch.  Fortunately, he hadn’t yet heard about my plans to have the Chief get me pregnant.

And so, I spent a pleasant afternoon with Jacky tending to my garden.

Chapter 5

The next morning I woke early and arranged for Alex to watch Blue while I drove back out to Thorny Springs.  It was obvious that he was unhappy about me working on the case, but since he’d already given me permission to complete my basic research, there wasn’t a lot left to say.  I hit the road with only a cup of coffee in my belly and after a pleasant drive spent listening to classics on KOMA, the local easy listening station, I found myself once more standing on the Cartwright’s stoop knocking on the door.

This time, Nurse Hailey was slow to answer the door.  I had to knock three times.  Once she did open the door she looked at me like she’d just as soon tear my head off as be civil.  I mentioned that I was here to see the records in the attic and she grudgingly turned and led me upstairs.

She led me on a fine tour up the backstairs of the house.  The final flight of stairs to the attic was steep, narrow, and dark.  I stumbled up behind Nurse Hailey as she removed a ring of keys from her pocket and used one of them to unlock the door.  This left me wondering what treasures were hidden up here that they required be stored under lock and key.

The attic proved to be roomy, the roof high enough so that you didn’t have to stoop to get around.  It was dusty and dark and there were cobwebs everywhere.  The nurse flipped a switch and a single bare light bulb that hung from overhead jumped to life.  This light cast an eerie iridescence over everything.  I was left with no doubt that this was just the place to be conducting my ghostly research.

“Don’t make a lot of noise. Miss Kate has had a bad morning.”

“Okay.”

Nurse Hailey left me.  For a moment I was afraid she might have locked me in, but I heard no key in the door.  Left to my own devices, I looked around trying to decide where to begin.

Half an hour spent pawing through cobwebs and dust had netted me nothing of any particular interest.  I was beginning to get frustrated.  That’s when I noticed Thomas standing just inside the doorway to the attic, quietly observing me.  How the heck did this guy manage to sneak up on me all the time? I wondered.

“Good morning, Ms. Boston.  It’s so good to see that you’re taking the case so seriously.”

“Good morning, Mr. Cartwright.  And how is your sister?”

“It’s hard to say.  Sometimes she seems to be getting better while other times she seems at the bitter end.  In any case, I doubt she has much more suffering to endure.”

There seemed nothing more to be said on that score.

“So, how goes the search?”

“I’m just getting started,” I admitted, eyeing a particularly hopeful looking steamer trunk.

“I doubt you’ll find anything.”

“Oh?  Why do you say that?” I asked, removing a stack of worn suitcases from atop the trunk.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t hold out much hope of anything anymore.”

“That’s too bad,” I told him, knowing it would be awful to watch someone you love die.  “But we should always hold on to as much hope as we can get our hands on. I’m actually very good at finding things.”

Having cleared the trunk, I slipped its massive latch and pried open the rusty lid.  Bingo, I thought as I surveyed the stacks of well organized papers, books, and mementos.

“In fact, I think I’ve found something,” I told Mr. Cartwright.

But when I turned he was gone, having left as silently and suddenly as he’d appeared.  I considered looking around the place to be sure he wasn’t hiding before I got a hold of my wits.

I turned my eyes back to the contents of the trunk in fascination.  Bundles of correspondence lay at the bottom, each bundle nicely trussed using a silk ribbon.  Surrounding the bundles were books, and to one side was a collection of child’s trinkets.

I retrieved a bundle of letters, slid the first from the collection, and started to read.  It was a business letter to the local coal company complaining about last week’s delivery.  I found several such letters in the bundle before moving on.

Eventually, I dragged an old settee over to an attic window so that I could get comfortable and better see what I was reading.  It was beginning to rain outside and the wind was blowing the branches of a tree against the side of the house.  The scratching sounded like the sinister requests of some demon demanding to be let in.  I snuggled down and got comfortable with my stack of missives.

I probably spent at least an hour sorting through the various bundles of letters before moving onto the books.  That’s when I found the piece that really caught my interest.  It was a diary.  Although very old, the leather binding was still supple.  I opened it and started to read.

February 20, 1929,

Today proves to be fair.  I think that my fancy leans less toward hunting with Father than it does toward spending a quiet day at home reading.  I wonder whose will shall prevail in the matter.

February 21, 1929,

I had a terrible time yesterday hunting with Father…

I flipped several pages forward and continued to read.

March 17, 1929,

Rain again today.  When will it ever stop raining?  Jane has met a new man.  She insists on bringing him round this evening for the family to meet.  I, for one, am skeptical.

March 18, 1929,

Last evening, it was my extreme misfortune to meet the most odious man ever to become my acquaintance.  His name is Arthur Sherlock and he is no doubt a scoundrel of the worst sort.  I noticed the various undesirable qualities of the man before we had even been properly introduced.  The way that he dressed and carried himself was nothing if not arrogant.  He treated me as if I was a small child and my sister as if she was already his possession.

If the man should ever show up at our door again, I plan on letting him know what I think of him and any future plans he may have involving my beloved Jane.

Realizing that the diary covered the time span of the disastrous wedding, I flipped forward to see if I could find anything regarding the nuptials.  The diary ended half way through the bound journal.  I flipped back a few pages and began to read the final series of entries.

June 26, 1929,

Alas, this is the journal of a wretched man, for surely I will find no peace in this world all the days of my life.  I have just returned from my sister Jane’s room.  She was unwilling to discuss the reversal of her decision to bind herself the most odious man who ever walked the face of God’s green earth.  And so, I find I wronged her.  For before I could stop the words from crossing my lips, I had disavowed her.  How I could do such a thing, I’ll never now.

Now I feel ill to the core and must sleep.  Tomorrow though.  Tomorrow I face the scoundrel himself.

June 27, 1929,

Can you believe it?  The sheer effrontery of the man.

This morning I waited in ambush for Sherlock in the foyer of the great house.  I’d had to resort to skulking because the cad refused to meet with me.  The moment he came down the stairs I was upon him.

“So, you show yourself,” I challenged.

“You.  Isn’t it a little soon for you to be so far away from your wet nurse.”

“Sherlock, I consider you to be the worst sort of profiteer; namely, one who would bring misfortune upon a fine young woman simply to line your own pockets.”

“Listen to the sniveling child speak of lining one’s pockets.  Now who’s calling the kettle black?”

“What do you mean?”

“I had Jane check the family vault this morning.  It seems that your mother’s ruby necklace has gone missing from the collection.”

“There’s a simple explanation.  I took it.”

“I know you took it.  Now, I want it back.”

“I’m keeping my mother’s most prized jewel safe from your cloying hands.”

“You’re a thief, that’s what you are.  And I’ll let you know that I’ll have that necklace back in my hands by the day of the wedding or I’ll have the authorities on you.”

I was dumbfounded.  What more could I say?  The man had called me a thief to my face in my own home.  And now he threatened involvement of the law unless I returned it.

I must confess that I could do no better than sputter and stall regarding the vehemence of my assault.  The bounder simply smiled and walked away.

I’ll return the necklace alright, I’ve decided.  I’ll throw it in his face on the day of his betrothal to my beloved Jane.  Then we’ll see if it becomes obvious who stands amongst us as the wolf in sheep’s clothing.

I flipped the page and found that I had come to the final entry.

June 30, 1929,

Today was the day.  I can hardly convey how my heart ached watching from the doorway as my sister married a man that I hate more than the devil himself.  Of course, I was forced to view the ceremony from the doorway of the church because my invitation to the blessed event had been rescinded at the last possible moment.  Surely this was the work of Sherlock, one last insult to add to the injury he had already doled out to both me and my family.

Now, alone in my room, I pen this last entry in my diary, for I intend to leave home forever after this last act is complete.  Holding my mother’s necklace in my hand, I can only cry and pray she continues to rest in peace after the jewelry has been returned.

For I go to the reception being held at the old family residence to confront the scoundrel, Sherlock, and throw the necklace into his face.  God give me the strength I need to carry out this one last act.

The diary concluded with a signature.  When I saw the name scrawled across the page I nearly dropped the book in shock.  Realizing that I had just found an important clue in the case, I closed the diary and slipped it into my pocket.  I then went in search of Nurse Hailey to ask her a very important question.  When I got the answer I’d expected, I got myself out of that house as quickly as possible. I needed to do some heavy thinking.

*  *  *

That evening was a regularly scheduled meeting of my writer’s group, the Lit Wits.  Thank goodness that I didn’t have to read this evening, and neither did Althea, she being as huge as a blimp and barely able to get out of her chair.  As I walked the sidewalk to the library I ran into Mr. Jackman getting out of his car and naturally fell into easy conversation with him.

“Hello, Chloe.  I heard that you were suspended,” he said, grabbing his briefcase out of his car and locking the door.

“Oh?  And you haven’t heard the one about me wanting the Chief to get me pregnant?”

“No, I hadn’t heard that one yet.  I’ll assume from your tone that neither rumor is true.”

“You’ve got it.”

“But you have left the Hope Falls Police Department?”

“I’m on leave of absence right now.”

“Oh.  That makes more sense.  I couldn’t imagine Chief Wallace throwing you out, let alone letting you resign.”

“I tried to resign, but he wouldn’t let me.  He suspended me instead.”

“I thought you said that you were on a leave of absence.”

“You and my father, both. Look, we negotiated. Leave of absence was the compromise.”

As we entered the library, we were greeted by this month’s greeter, Mary Beth Whitman.  Mary Beth was a new member of the group.  Tara Lee had stumbled across her at the grocery store, and after learning that Mary Beth was a published author, insisted that she join the group.  Since then it was obvious that Tara Lee was grooming her as her personal protégé.  Although Mary Beth had been quiet to date, she was scheduled to read this evening for the very first time.

“Hi, Mary Beth,” I said shaking her hand.

“Good evening, Miss Whitman,” Mr. Jackman said, bending to the woman’s hand and brushing the back of it with his lips.  “Lawrence Jackman, at your service.”

Way to go, Larry, I thought but did not say.  After all, Mary Beth was an elegant woman in her fifties, with frosted hair, and wearing a dashing caftan.  Why shouldn’t Mr. Jackman take notice of her?  And she positively glowed at the gentlemanly attention.  I could see an obvious spark between them that lightened my heart.

But then I turned to the room and saw Mrs. Graves, standing by the coffee maker and glaring darts of anger in our direction. I didn’t think she was mad at me.

Meanwhile, Mr. Suave had risen to stare longingly into the twinkling eyes of the newest Lit Wit.  I began pulling on his coat sleeve and finally got his attention.  By then, Mrs. Graves had turned her back to us and taken her seat.

“What is it, Chloe?” Mr. Jackman asked in irritation.  “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“I can see that, and so can everyone else in the room.”

We looked around and all eyes, except for those of Mrs. Graves, were directed our way.

“Oh.”

“Perhaps you should follow me and make amends,” I suggested, guiding him to a seat next to Mrs. Graves.

I sat between the two of them just to make sure that a physical fight didn’t break out.  I almost immediately felt my skin burning from the vibes coming off the two of them.

“Good evening, Agatha,” Mr. Jackman said without looking her way.

“Good evening, Lawrence.  You ass,” Mrs. Graves replied.

“I’m sorry?  What was that?” Mr. Jackman asked, leaning in front of me.

“You heard me,” Mrs. Graves insisted.

I was feeling decidedly uncomfortable by the time our little get-together was called to order.  As was always the case, the leader of the gathering was none other than Mrs. Tara Lee, scourge of the yet to be published.  Mary Beth took a seat beside Mr. Jackman and I swear I could see the hairs on the back of Mrs. Graves’ neck bristle.

“Good evening everyone,” Tara Lee began, then actually waited until everyone returned her greeting.  “I hope that you’re all well and excited to spend another wondering evening pursuing that elusive craft we call the art of letters.”

Maybe she calls it the art of letters, I thought.  I call it writing.

“This evening we have a particular treat in store for us since Mary Beth Whitman, our newest member, is going to read from her latest work.  Miss Whitman is an published author, so we should all have something to learn from her.  Now, if there is no other business to which we need to attend, I’ll pass the floor over to Mary Beth.”

“Thank you, Tara Lee,” Mary Beth said, standing at our flimsy podium to organize her notes.  “You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m a little nervous.”

“You’ll do just fine, I’m sure,” Mr. Jackman assured her.

Mary Beth returned a bright smile.

“Ass,” I heard Mrs. Graves hiss.

“Tonight, I’d like to read to you from the pivotal moment in my new novel.  This is the point at which Jack confronts Carl, who he has found in his apartment.

The night was inky black and the light over his stoop had gone out before Jack returned home.  It took him some time to fit his key into the lock, having to work by feel alone.  When he finally stepped into his apartment, he immediately felt that something was wrong.  It was as if there was a chill of expectation hanging in the very air.

“If I may interrupt,” Tara Lee interrupted.  “I want you all to note the atmosphere being evoked.  Miss Whitman is obviously a professional who knows how to create engaging prose that will draw the reader into her story.  Please proceed.”

Mary Beth tried to smile confidently, though it was obvious that the interruption had thrown her off.  Then she began reading again.

The first thing that gave the intruder away was the faint smell of cologne in the air.  The smell was accompanied by a furtive sound that directed Jack to the living room.  There he spotted the silhouette of a man, standing against the dim light cast by the sliding glass window.

“Who is it?” Jack called.

“It’s me.  Carl,” a husky voice replied.

“What are you doing here?” Jack challenged.

“I’ve come for you,” was the simple reply.

“I hope that you all sense the tension that is building between these two characters,” Tara Lee interrupted again without first demanding permission.  “I for one can tell that Carl means to do Jack some terrible injury.  Go on.”

Again, Mary Beth smiled awkwardly before continuing to read.

“You know, I thought I might find you here,” Jack said.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Carl replied.

With the speed of a panther, Jack was across the room before Carl could react.  Grabbing him by the shoulders, Jack hurled Carl against the wall and pinned him there using his body.

“Here comes the knife to the ribs.  Get ready, everyone,” Tara Lee warned.

With the force of a hunger too great to contain, Jack pressed his lips against Carl’s and began to devour him.  Carl slipped his tongue into Jack’s mouth and pressed his hips against the man who was dominating him.  Carl felt his manhood swell in response to the close contact.

“Wait!” Tara Lee called.  “What is this?”

“This is my story,” Mary Beth answered timidly, obviously not understanding the question.

“But, where’s the knife?”

“There is no knife.  Jack and Carl are lovers.”

“Oh,” Tara Lee said in obvious disappointment.

“What’s the problem, Tara Lee?” Mr. Jackman interposed.  “We’re all adults here.  We can handle a little smooching between two men.”

“Take it from a man who does way too much smooching himself,” Mrs. Graves commented.

“How’s that?”

“Ass!”

“Tara Lee, this is a freedom of speech issue,” Mr. Jackman pointed out.

Mary Beth looked to Mr. Jackman as if he was her knight in shining armor.

“You’re right.  Proceed Miss Whitman,” Tara Lee said both sounding and looking disappointed and confused.

Mary Beth took a shaky breath and started to read.

Jack pulled down Carl’s pants and spun him around.  Jack’s pants were next to come down, and while Carl bent over, shaking in anticipation, Jack climbed aboard the love train and started to drive…

“Stop!” Tara Lee insisted.  “Don’t read another word!”

“Maybe we should have coffee now,” I suggested.

“Just what kind of novels do you write, Miss Whitman?”

“Why, male/male romance, really more gay erotica.  I thought you knew.”

Tara Lee stepped to the podium and removed the manuscript from Mary Beth’s hands.  She turned the pages back to the cover and read.

“Lick me, Suck me, …” Tara Lee blanched.  “I refused to even say that word amongst polite society.”  She handed the manuscript back and wiped her hands on her suit coat.

I looked to Mr. Jackman.  He looked horrified.  I looked to Mrs. Graves.  She looked smug.  I looked to Mary Beth.  She was already on the run, heading for the door as fast as her high heeled shoes would carry her.

“Mary Beth, wait!” Mr. Jackman called.

Mary Beth kept on running.

“Ass!” Mrs. Graves barked.

“I’m sorry, but have I done something to offend you, Mrs. Graves?”

“I don’t know where to begin,” she replied.  “Chasing after a woman half your age.”

“She is not half my age, and I was not chasing after her.”

“Then how do you know who I’m talking about?”

Wow.  I had to admit, she had him there.

“Next time, look closer to home, you old fool,” Mrs. Graved declared, and then she was gone.

That’s when it hit me.  The next piece of the puzzle in my case had fallen into place.  I had to admit that this wasn’t the best time or place to begin working on the case, but I had no choice.  All I needed was someone to second my hypothesis.

“Tell me, Mr. Jackman, why would a young man embarking on an important mission suddenly run away instead?” I asked.

“What?  Oh, I don’t know,” Mr. Jackman answered in confusion.  “Fear, I suppose.”

“Yeah, I already thought of that one and ruled it out.”

“I suppose that he could have disappeared while conducting the mission.”

“As in, something happened to him?”

“Most likely.”

“Possibly even an accident.”

“Very likely.”

“I agree.”  I leaned over and kissed Mr. Jackman on the cheek.  “You’re wonderful,” I said before standing to exit the library.

“Chloe, this has been a very confusing and distressing evening,” Mr. Jackman said.

“Hang in there, Larry,” I said, punching him in the shoulder.  “She’ll turn around once she gets to thinking about you.”

“You may be right.  But which one?” He didn’t sound elated at the idea of two women being after him.

I left Mr. Jackman to ponder the intricacies of male/female relationships while I went off to contemplate my own intricacies.  Namely, should I keep working on the case or drop it like the bad penny it probably was?

Chapter 6

“What do you mean you’re dropping the case?” Alex demanded, mid-bite in his morning toast.

“Simple, I’m considering dropping the case.”

“But why?  You were so adamant before about pursuing it to its bitter end.”

“I just ran across some creepy information while I was out at the family residence in Thorny Springs yesterday.  It made me feel uneasy.”

“What could you possibly have found that would make you uneasy?”

So, I explained everything to Alex, from the finding of the diary to the signature I found at the end of it.  I even highlighted the brief, but shocking, discussion I’d had with Nurse Hailey afterward.  He listened patiently, without interruption, before pronouncing judgment.

“You’re right, you should drop the case immediately.”

“I will.  But first I have one last thing I need to look into.”

“Honey, what are you talking about?  You just said you’re dropping the case.”

“Actually, if I can get this one last piece of information, I can write up a report and close the case instead.”

“What exactly does getting your hands on this last piece of information entail?”

“A little independent research.”

“Approved.”

“And one last trip back to the family residence in Thorny Springs.”

“No!  Absolutely not.  That is absolutely out of the question.  I forbid it!” Alex expostulated.

“Alex, we discussed this before.  You don’t want me to resign again, do you?”

“No.  Of course not.  But I also don’t want you to go off and get yourself killed by some kook.”

“Then why don’t you come with me?” I challenged.

“I think I will,” he replied, stepping up to the challenge.

“Good.”

“Good.”

Now that we’d agreed things were good, we split up to go our separate ways.  I agreed to meet Alex at the Cartwright place at two o’clock that afternoon.  In the meantime, I had a long ride myself to the Thorny Springs county seat of Millsboro.  Light sprinkles proved to be all I had to endure along the way.  Once more, I dialed the radio directly to KOMA to get my easy listening fix.

When I made it to the County Records Department, I was expecting trouble getting access to the specific records I needed.  Nothing could have been further from the truth.  Gladys, the head receptionist, led me directly to the archives where I began combing through the catalog of blueprints before taking my selection to the microfiche reader.

And there it was, right in the center of the property, between the main family dwelling and the open lawn area where they must surely have held the reception.  I made a printout of the property diagram and called to Gladys that I was done.

My next stop was a pawn shop where I selected from one of a variety of metal detectors.  It appeared that the hobby of scanning the beach for lost change had fallen out of favor and everyone had turned in their detectors.  They offered quite a range of features.  I selected the most powerful model I could find which I carried out of the shop and threw in the trunk of my car.

Driving to the family residence, I wondered just who I might encounter: elderly woman or corpse, helpful caretaker or crone, family member or madman.  All I knew is that I was glad Alex had agreed to come with me.  This led me to wonder whether I had the guts to do what needed to be done without him at my side.  I hoped the time never came.

Pulling up before the Cartwright home, I was pleased to see that Alex was already waiting in his car which was parked at the curb out front.  We left our vehicles at the same time but I ran to Alex throwing my arms around his neck and giving him a big hug.

“Hey, remember, we need to keep up appearances in front of the clients,” Alex warned, pulling me away.

“Humph,” I pouted.  “I have no other intention in mind.  I was simply greeting my boss the way I always do.”

“If you’re saying you greet Randy this way, I’ll put you over my knee.”

“Promises, promises.”

We continued our back and forth banter until we arrived at the front door of the residence.  There we rearranged our suits.  I straightened Alex’s tie and tried to get the dog hair off my skirt.  Alex rang the bell.

“Yes?” Nurse Hailey said when she opened the door.

Clearly she recognized me, yet she did not invite us in.

“Nurse Hailey, this is my boss, and husband, Alex Lincoln.  He’s come to help me conduct a search of the property.”

“I’ve been told nothing about a search of the property.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t call ahead, but I assumed that I would be allowed to inspect the property since it doesn’t mean having me intrude by entering your home.”

“I’ve been told nothing about a search of the property.”

“Well, maybe you should ask Miss Cartwright if it would be alright,” I suggested.

“Wait here,” Nurse Hailey instructed before closing the door in our faces.

“Friendly type, isn’t she?” Alex noted.

“A regular Mrs. Danvers.”

Our wait probably wasn’t as long as it felt, it was just that I was anxious to get to work.  Within a few minutes Nurse Hailey returned with instructions from Miss Cartwright that I was to be allowed access to anything I needed, either inside or outside of the house.

I led Alex back to my car and let him carry the metal detector as we cut around the house to the back of the property.  The gardens in the front could best be described as unkempt.  What we found in the back could best be described as a jungle.  I wished I’d brought my machete or at least my garden weasel.

I stuck close to the house and made my way to the kitchen door, winding my way around the denser growths.  Speaking of dense growth, it didn’t take long, tracing the line from the back door of the house to the far lawn where we ran into an expansive gathering of bushes.  Alex complained about his clothes, but I insisted that we push straight ahead through them.

In my mind, I tried to place myself in the night in 1929 when a fragile young gentleman walked this same route.  Back then, the gardens would have been well tended.  There would have been less difficulty in making one’s way to the center of the property on the way to the far side.

Possibly due to my daydreaming, I almost fell into the deep, dark hole for which I was searching.  Thanks to Alex’s quick reflexes, I dangled at the edge rather than plunging to the bottom.

You see, in my way of thinking, this was the very abandoned well into which my ghost fell on June 30, 1929.  And if I wasn’t mistaken, he had a valuable necklace in his hand at the time.  I was so near the last piece of the puzzle I could nearly taste it.

After righting myself, I accepted the metal detector from Alex and began to set it up.  As I did so, I explained to Alex what I now knew happened that night so many years ago.  I continued to explain as I started to sweep the ground and bushes around the abandoned well with the metal detector and listening for the signal being pulsed through the headphones.

“So, you think you’re going to find a priceless necklace lying here in these bushes?”

“That’s what I’m hoping.”

“Then that means that there’s a body at the bottom of that hole.”

Gulp.

“I’m afraid so.”

Alex pulled away from the hole without even consciously knowing he was doing it.  I’d forgotten that he was a little squeamish around dead things— bugs, rodents, the occasional dead squirrel, and certainly dead bodies.

I continued scanning over the earth and between the bushes.  I got excited the first time the detector went off.  I’d found an old bottle cap.  My heart again skipped a beat when I next found a quarter from 1962.  The metal detector was beginning to get heavy when I once more picked up the clicks for which I was listening.  Laying the detector aside, I knelt on the ground and began sifting through the soil with my hands.

Looping my finger through the chain, I pulled the necklace from the loose soil only a few feet away from the lip of the abandoned well.  As I’d suspected, my young ghost had dropped the gold chained gem as he fell into the well.  Now that I’d found it, my investigation was over— or was it?

“So, that’s it?”

“Yep, that’s what this whole case has been about.”

“Now what?”

“Lamaze class.”

“Lamaze class?” He sounded blank.

“Lamaze class.”

*  *  *

I showed up at Althea’s Lamaze class eager and ready to get started.  But first, the instructor pulled Althea and me aside to have a little talk with me.

“Chloe, it’s so nice to see you back again.  I guess that you have decided to commit to becoming Althea’s birthing partner,” said Anne Harwood, our Coach Anne, with a broad grin on her face.

That’s what I liked about this woman, I thought.  She’s always so upbeat and friendly.

“You bet.  I’m onboard.  When do we get started?” I asked, maybe a little too enthusiastically.

Meanwhile, Althea had lumbered out of earshot to have a seat on a nearby chair.  In fact, many of the pregnant women in the room were sitting, at least all those who were far along in their pregnancies.

“Actually, there’s something I wanted to talk with you about, Chloe.  Before class starts,” Anne continued.

“What is it?”

“I was wondering if maybe you could stick to one role tonight.”

“What do you mean?”

“You should perform the birthing partner exercises only, and assist Althea in her performance of the birthing mother exercises.”

“I don’t get it.  Why?”

“For one thing, you’re exhausting the mother by setting too fast a pace.”

Actually, I’d been too excited to notice whether the instructor was right or wrong.  Could it be that I’d been endangering my cousin’s pregnancy through my exuberance for the subject matter?

“I’m sorry.  Of course, I’ll do as you say.”

“Good.” Anne concluded, grabbing my hand in hers and giving it a shake.

I smiled.  Somehow, the woman had asked me to back off and made me feel good about it.

“Alright class, let’s grab our mats and gather up here at the front of the classroom,” Anne called.

“She’s right, you know,” Althea said, rising and waddling up front.

“You heard that conversation?”

“Every word.  I have 20/20 hearing.”

“I’ll just bet you do.  What’s she right about?”

I laid down the mat and spread several pillows on the floor.  I then helped Althea to the floor into a relaxing position. I stayed out of her shadow. If she fell on me I’d be squished.

“Tonight’s class is all about relaxation.  This evening, we’re going to learn different techniques for relaxing your birthing mother,” Anne announced.

“I could certainly use that tonight,” Althea quipped once she’d assumed a comfortable position.  “Not that you’ll be any great help in relaxing me.”

I ignored the remark hoping that Anne’s calming words would smother my growing anger.

“We’ll begin by gently massaging the hands.  Partners,” Anne said, while looking directly at me, “grab one of your birthing mother’s hands in yours.”

“Besides, it’s absurd to think of you as a mother. You’d be terrible.”

“And begin to gently massage between the fingers.”

So far Anne’s calming words hadn’t helped to calm me.  In fact, I found it increasingly difficult to bite my tongue the longer Althea talked.  I took her hand in mine and started to massage.

“Yes, I’m afraid you’d be a lousy mother, Chloe; even if you and Alex did manage to conceive.”

I started to massage Althea’s hand harder and faster.

“Ouch!  You’re hurting me,” Althea exclaimed.

“Not half as much as you’re going to be hurting when that baby’s head comes out,” I hissed back.

“Hey, wait a second,” Althea protested.  “This isn’t relaxing.  Help!  She isn’t relaxing me.”

“Chloe, what do you think you’re doing?” Anne called.

I stopped what I was doing, aghast at the fact that I was about to give Althea an Indian rope burn on her arm.  I realized at that point that I needed more relaxation than Couch Anne was able or willing to offer, at least to a lowly birthing partner like myself.  I chose to try for a graceful exit.

“I’m sorry, Althea, for massaging you too roughly.”

“You assaulted me,” Althea charged.

“I’m sorry, Coach Anne, for interrupting your class.”

“Take a breath, Chloe,” Anne suggested. She looked exasperated when she glanced at Althea. “Would you like to lie down on one of the mats and do a few breathing exercises?”

“There she goes again, pretending to be me,” Althea mooed.

“I’m leaving now.”

I turned and walked away.

“Is she still my birthing partner?” I heard Althea ask no one in particular as I left the room.

Chapter 7

“Chloe, I’ve got to tell you, I’ve been sitting here, patiently listening to your plan, twice now, and it still makes me nervous.  Are you sure that this is the only way to end this thing?”

“Alex, I think that if we don’t end it in this way that Catherine Cartwright could be in great danger.”

Alex considered this for a moment, and then nodded his head in agreement.

“I’ve got a client I need to see this morning, but I can meet you at the Cartwright home early this afternoon.”

“Right.  And, Alex,” I paused to wrap my arms around his neck and give him a peck on the cheek, “thanks.”

While Alex grabbed his briefcase and headed out the door I poured myself a second cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to browse the paper.  It seemed as if there was nothing but bad news.  I soon lost interest.  Calling Blue, I opted to go for one of those extended walks I’d been anticipating.

It was the end of our Indian summer and the weather was fine.  Blue and I walked through our neighborhood in the direction of the public rose gardens.  Along the way, we stopped and visited with Mrs. Brown, an elderly neighbor who lives alone, and checked on how her vegetable garden was faring amongst the grazing deer.  She reported that the deer fences were holding losses to a minimum and that the smell of her own urine, which she collected in mayonnaise jars and spread liberally around the border of her garden, seemed to repel the vermin.  Blue got a scratch behind the ears while we talked and in the end Mrs. Brown ran inside to get her a piece of ginger cookie— Blue’s favorite.

We could smell the fragrance of rose blossoms before we made it to the gardens.  The sun was warm, a gentle breeze blew, the smell of flowers was in the air, and I was with my dog.  And still I felt incomplete.

So many issues had tumbled at me, over me, and around me lately that my nerves were becoming frayed.  Why did I almost quit my job?  What was I doing working this job?  Why this sudden interest in children?  What was I going to do about Althea?  And amidst it all, I had to try to save a woman from a potential madman.

I shivered at the thought of it.  This made Blue whine.  I smiled and mussed the hair on her head.  Picking up the pace I led the way into the gardens where I stopped and smelled the roses along the way. It didn’t really help.

An hour later and we were back home where I showered and dressed for the afternoon’s activity.  I chose to wear my black mourning dress.  I drove Blue to my dad’s place and dropped her off for the day before stopping by our local department store for supplies.  Votive candles and a small, black table cloth were all I needed.  I placed these things in my briefcase along with the diary and the necklace.

I spent yet another lazy drive listening to KOMA radio and eventually arrived at the Cartwright home in Thorny Springs.  I was disappointed to find that Alex’s car wasn’t waiting for me by the curb.  Assuming that he would be along soon, I grabbed my briefcase out of the backseat and walked to the front door.

This time, a single knock was all it took to send the door flying open.

“Yes, what is it this time?” Nurse Hailey demanded.

And I couldn’t keep myself from asking.

“Look, is there something about me that you don’t like?”

Nurse Hailey was fully prepared to answer that question.

“I don’t like the fact that you’re taking Miss Cartwright’s money to carry on with this silly investigation of yours.  This ghost stuff is all a lot of falderal.  You should end this foolishness before somebody gets hurt.”

“On that last point, I fully agree,” I said, pushing past her.  “I’ll be setting up in the parlor, Nurse Hailey.  I’d like you to bring Miss Cartwright to the parlor only when I call for her.”

At this point I had arrived at the entrance to the parlor with Nurse Hailey fast on my heels.  I turned and grabbed the handles on the French doors.

“I’ll be closing these,” I explained.  “I don’t want them opened by anyone but me or my partner, Alex, when he arrives.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Nurse Hailey hissed in my face.

I closed the doors in her snarling face, shutting her out.  I then turned to arranging the room to my liking.  Naturally, I found Thomas waiting for me at the fireplace.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Boston,” he said, bowing.  “I like the way that you handled Nurse Hailey. She is an unpleasant creature, but very devoted to Kate.”

For this afternoon’s gathering, Thomas had chosen to wear a lovely, velvet smoking jacket with black slacks, a white shirt, and a red cravat.  He looked quite dashing leaning a hand against the hearth.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cartwright.  I thought that I might find you here.”

“Oh?  Why is that?”

“You have a habit of popping up at the most crucial times.”

“And what makes this time so crucial?”

“I’m going to conduct a séance.”

“Oh, are you now?  To free our ghost’s soul to move on, no doubt.”

“Something like that.”

“And do you think this bit of mysticism will work?”

“I think it had better,” I replied, solemnly.

Thomas also assumed a solemn look and became quiet as I went about my work.  Fortunately, the drapes in the tiny parlor were thick.  When I unhooked them and pinned them closed, they dimmed the room enough to make dark corners where the single overhead lamp could not reach.

Next, I pushed back the furniture and moved a round table into the center of the room.  I placed three chairs around the table and left an empty spot for Miss Cartwright.  I laid the black table cloth out and placed the eight, red votive candles I bought in the center.  I lit the candles and turned out the overhead light.

“Very atmospheric,” Thomas commented from a dark corner.

The sound of his voice, alone with me in this dark room, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“And am I invited to this séance of yours?” Thomas asked.

“It wouldn’t be a séance without you,” I replied.  “Wait here.  I’ll be right back.”

Stepping from the room, I closed the French doors at my back and took a deep breath in an attempt to relax myself.  Where the heck was Alex? I wondered.  Was I really going to have to do this alone?  Why hadn’t he called if he was going to be late?

“Good afternoon, Ms. Boston.”

Miss Cartwright was waiting for me in the foyer with Nurse Hailey at the helm of her wheelchair.

“Good afternoon, Miss Cartwright,” I replied.  “I’ll take it from here,” I said, stepping to the side of the wheelchair and shooing Nurse Hailey aside.

She didn’t budge.

“It’s alright, Nurse Hailey,” Miss Cartwright said.  “I’ll be fine.  And if I do need anything, I’ll ring my bell.”

“As you say, Miss Cartwright,” Nurse Hailey said, stepping aside and glaring at me.

“My, but you have rubbed her the wrong way,” Miss Cartwright chortled as I rolled her to the parlor doors.

“It appears that way,” I agreed, opening the doors and rolling Miss Cartwright inside.

Once inside, I stopped the wheelchair so that I could turn and close the parlor doors.  When I turned back I was momentarily captivated by the sight I’d created.  The room was dark.  Only in the very center did the candles light the table and chairs.  In one of the chairs sat Thomas, patiently waiting.

“Oh, Ms. Boston, you’ve found something,” Miss Cartwright exclaimed.

“I have indeed,” I confided as I rolled her to the table.

“And you plan to have a séance to exorcise the poor soul,” she continued in excitement.

“I wouldn’t express it that way.  I’d say that I plan to have a séance to set a soul at ease so that it can be freed to pass on to its ultimate destination.”

“Well put, Ms. Boston,” Thomas acknowledged.

“Good afternoon, Thomas,” Miss Cartwright said and dimpled.

“My lovely Catherine,” he replied.

“We’ll wait for my partner to arrive before we begin,” I commented.

“Why is that, Ms. Boston?  Can’t we conduct our business with only the three of us?” Thomas asked.

“I am feeling tired,” Kate added.

I looked at the earnest expression on Miss Cartwright’s face and had to look away.  Thomas displayed pursed lips and raised eyebrows that he highlighted by shrugging his shoulders, as if to say ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’.

“Yes, you’re right, Miss Cartwright,” I said, having come to a decision.  “I see no reason why we shouldn’t be able to conduct our business just between the three of us.  Let’s begin.”

I pulled out one of many newspaper clippings I had gathered about the family that included a list of family members.  This one was an obituary entry from a local paper for Miss Cartwright’s father listing her as the surviving family member.

“You have no brother, Miss Cartwright, let alone a brother named Thomas.”

“Yes.  That’s true, Ms. Boston,” Miss Cartwright admitted. She was smiling a little.

“That leads to the question: who are you, Mr. Cartwright?” I asked, turning my gaze to Thomas.  “Am I correct in assuming you are a Cartwright?”

“Yes,” Thomas replied.  “I’m Thomas Cartwright.”

“The Thomas Cartwright?”

“Yes.  The Thomas Cartwright.”

“The Thomas Cartwright whose name I found scrawled at the end of the diary,” I said, producing the diary and placing it in a clear spot I’d left amongst the candles. I tried not to sound skeptical.

“Yes,” Thomas said.  “The Thomas Cartwright who penned that diary.”

We all paused to consider the weight of that statement. He was wedded to this story and wasn’t going to be shaken.

“I don’t suppose that you believe in ghosts, Ms. Boston.”

“I don’t suppose that I do, Mr. Cartwright.”

“I suppose that makes me a mad man then.”

I said nothing.

“And I suppose that’s why it was so important to you that your husband and sidekick be here at your side.”

Again, I said nothing.

“If I’m not a ghost bound by a haunting, Ms. Boston, then what do you suppose I’m after here?”

“I’ve brought for you this evening to give you what you’re after,” I said, removing the necklace from my pocket and laying it on the table.  “Now, why don’t you take it and leave Ms. Cartwright in peace.”

“Catherine, my necklace!” Thomas exclaimed.

“Thomas, your necklace!” Catherine echoed.

Well now, it sounded like they agreed on one thing.  Having said all I had to say, I sat back and prepared for whatever may come. That included checking my pocket for pepper spray.

I admit that I wasn’t expecting what happened next.

A sudden gust of wind caused the candles to sputter out.  The table and surrounding people were plunged into darkness.  I heard shuffling followed by a horrible pounding at the parlor door.  I jumped up and reached to pull a drape aside.  At the same time the parlor doors broke open and the room was flooded with light.

Smoke rose from the recently snuffed candles.  Alex and Nurse Hailey stood in the splintered doorway stunned and looking in.  Miss Cartwright had a broad smile on her face.  And of course, Thomas Cartwright and the necklace were gone.

“I don’t imagine you passed a tall, balding gentleman in a smoking jacket on your way in,” I asked Alex, running to be in his arms.

“Kate, are you alright?” Nurse Hailey called, running to her side.

“Just fine, Rachel.  Now, settle down,” Miss Cartwright replied.

“Where is Thomas Cartwright, Miss Cartwright?” Alex demanded.

“Who?” Nurse Hailey asked.

“Thomas Cartwright.  The man posing as Miss Cartwright’s brother.”

“Oh, you mean her ghost friend,” Nurse Hailey replied.  “I never did believe in him, having never seen hide nor hair of him.  But my dear Catherine sure did take a shine to him.”

“You mean that you’ve never seen a distinguished looking gentleman in his seventies anywhere on the premises?” I asked, leaning my cheek against Alex’s chest.

“Oh, maybe a shadow here or there, or something I thought I saw out of the corner of my eye.  But never as to meet the man.  When did you meet him?”

“Actually, I’ve never met him,” Alex had to admit.  “Chloe?”

“Miss Cartwright, you can describe him just as well as I can,” I urged.

“Who would that be?” she replied, suddenly looking senile.

“Your brother, Thomas.”

“But, as you already pointed out this evening, Ms. Boston, I don’t have a brother.”

“You know, Miss Cartwright, I have every reason to file a police report based on this case.”

“But you won’t.”

With that, Nurse Hailey began to wheel the exhausted looking old woman from the room.

“Thank you, Chloe Boston.  Thank you for setting my Thomas free.”

“You’re welcome, Catherine Cartwright.”

What more was there to say?  Oh, yeah.

“Alex,” I said, pulling back and looking him in the eyes.  “I quit.”

*  *  *

I did file a police report citing the fact that during an unrelated investigation I had stumbled upon evidence of the body of a Cartwright family member lost for almost one hundred years at the bottom of an abandoned well on the family property.  The family was left to hire professionals to reclaim the body and deliver it to the coroner who promised, in light of Miss Cartwright’s condition,  to examine it soon with plans for burial.

In the meantime, I continued to dig for information as I wrote up my final report.

In my version of the episode, the individual pretending to be Thomas Cartwright-- the boy in the closet-- had found a copy of the original Thomas Cartwright’s diary amongst the family archives and discovered the existence of the necklace.  Having no success in finding it himself, he played the ghost to an ailing old lady and eventually conned her into hiring professional help to find the necklace.  Once found, he devised elaborate methods to disappear with his prize.  End of story.

Either that, or he was the ghost of Thomas Cartwright.

I chose to have Alex run a fraud scan using the description of the Thomas Cartwright I’d met.  As I suspected, we were flooded with the profiles matching criminals.  After reading a few dozen of them, I gave up, realizing that I would never find my man using this approach.

I considered interviewing Catherine Cartwright again but decided that further effort was useless.  Whether a freed ghost or an appeased criminal, Thomas Cartwright was gone and Catherine Cartwright could die with her mind at ease.

The day after retrieving the body, Miss Cartwright called to say that the remains would be interred the following day in a family plot at the most prestigious cemetery in the Northwest.  I planned to attend the graveside service with Alex.

*  *  *

“Ashes to ashes.  Dust to dust,” the nasal sounding minister droned on as the ceremony itself droned on.  For a guy who’d never met Thomas Cartwright, he sure had a lot to say about him. Was he being paid by the hour?

The weather was bleak; it was cold and raining.  Alex and I huddled under a single black umbrella enduring the whole dreary experience.  Thomas Cartwright’s plot was situated right beside an empty plot, sharing a common headstone with one Catherine Annabelle Cartwright.  Said Catherine Cartwright stood opposite the hole in the ground waiting for the wooden box containing the remains to be lowered into the ground.  Oddly, the year of her death had already been carved into the headstone. I found it macabre.

After the service, I stood in line to condole with Miss Cartwright, crying against Alex’s shoulder.  He tried to console me, but I always cry a weddings and funerals, except at Althea’s wedding.  Or funeral.  It was a short line, which was good since it was really beginning to rain hard.

“I read your final report, Ms. Boston,” Miss Cartwright said as I took her hand.

“And?” I asked.

“I found it to be both amusing and frustrating.”

“In what ways did it amuse you?”

“In the same ways in which it frustrates me.  Namely, after all that you’ve seen, you still don’t believe that Thomas was the ghost of my long dead ancestor, Thomas Cartwright.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then, you believe that I was robbed of my ancestral jewels by a huckster magician.”

“Yes, I do.”

At this point in the conversation she sighed and leaned her head to one side.

“You’ll have to forgive me, Ms. Boston.  But I become exhausted, especially when dealing with a sensibility such as yours.  I choose to believe what I believe, and I’m at peace.  Be at peace with this, Chloe Boston.  The deed is done.”

“I’m glad you’re at peace,” I said.  “After all, that was the whole point. And if you are content then so am I.”

Nurse Hailey rolled her away to attend to the next guest.  The nurse also turned her head to glare at me the entire way.  Bygones were not bygones with that one. I asked Alex if he would like to walk with me for a moment, amongst the headstones.  He agreed, reluctantly; after all, it was damned wet outside.

“Alex, I’ve been thinking about having a child,” I admitted.

“Yes, I know,” he admitted.

Good start.

“How did I give it away?”

“By telling me you were thinking of having a baby.”

“Oh, yeah.  I forgot.  Life has just been so crazy lately.  Anyway, what did you say the first time I mentioned it?”

“I don’t recall, but it was probably something that would allow me to avoid the question altogether.”

“Very wise,” I told him.  “And also, very snide.”

“Look, Chloe, I know that you have this biological clock and all, but when it comes to kids, I don’t feel a natural calling.”

We made it to a portion of the cemetery where there was some mud to be avoided.  Alex led me through it by the hand, even at the expense of his own shoes.  Now, how could a man like that not want to have kids? I thought.

“So, do you mind it if we postpone the kid question for a few years; at least until my business is in a better position and I feel like I can take time off?”

“I suppose not,” I concluded. My own feelings were mixed.

As I wrapped myself around Alex’s arm and let him guide me back to the car, I wondered: what is it that I really want?

Chapter 8

Cousin Althea’s baby shower began early with the arrival of the Elvises.  They showed up en masse while I was still setting up, having traveled together from Vegas to get to Hope Falls.  Rumor had it that the motel they’d stayed at last night, had asked them to leave and never to return this morning as a result of a wild party that raged late into the wee morning hours.  Most of the Elvises looked like they had barely sobered up from the night before. I hoped there wouldn’t be any incidences at the Morningside Inn. I knew the manager.

Rock Elvis was looking good as ever while Heroin Elvis was looking as bad as ever.  Gangster Elvis, Elder Elvis, and Living Dead Elvis were also in attendance.  I hugged all the Elvises as they entered, but I was particularly glad to see Elvis King who I hadn’t seen since he’d married Alex and me.  And nothing could have surprised me more than when Hawaiian Elvis himself walked through my door wearing his own Elvis costume.

“Howdy, Marshal,” I announced.  “How’s lawman work been?”

“Can’t complain,” he acknowledged.  “Say, I heard you got suspended.  What’s that all about?”

“You haven’t heard the half of it-- and that part is all wrong.  I’ll tell you later.”

Before long, the duplex was packed with Elvises.  Fortunately they required little attention to be entertained.  One of them had brought a case of Jack Daniels and they all gathered in Alex’s office to swap stories and share a bottle.  They were noisy but I wasn’t going to interfere with their fun.  When Alex stepped out of the bedroom and saw them, he joined their drinking party in his office.  But the party didn’t really get started until Chief Randy Wallace showed up with a bottle of Tequila to contribute to the cause.  With the boys all occupied, I went back to work preparing for the arrival of the women.  I knew that Mom and Aunt Dot would be no shows as they had been to the last shower and swore they’d rather have a root canal than come to this one.

And what a party it was going to be.  Rosemary had outdone herself with the shower preparations.  She had used diapers to wrap individual gifts of candies and such for each of the guests.  Crape paper hung from every available ceiling fixture turning my home into a pink and blue party spot.  Rosemary had even gone so far as to make a paper mache stork as a center piece for the food table.  And the food that she had prepared was marvelous.  I loved the little salmon and cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off.  There were deviled eggs, relish trays, mini-quiches, sausages, and a beautiful vegetable display.  Everything was lovely, and I’d had nothing to do with it.

I looked to Rosemary and smiled my thankful smile.  She smiled back her I know smile.  Then we high-fived and moved to our positions to receive our guests.

When Mr. Jackman arrived, he gravitated naturally to the men’s corner of the house.  Nothing could rightly describe Mrs. Smith’s reaction when she saw the Elvises spilling out of Alex’s office.  No sooner was she in the door than she was amongst the dense throng of men in Alex’s office.  Mrs. Graves, who had driven Mrs. Smith to the party, stood in shocked dismay glaring into the office, and something told me that one Lawrence Jackman was catching the majority of the glare.

Due to its size and ruckus nature, we had to move the party from the office  to the living room.  This also reduced foot traffic as it moved the men closer to the food which they were devouring at a horrifying rate.  Unfortunately, it also got the Elvises closer to our stereo which Alex had already prepared with Elvis’ Greatest Hits in the CD player.  It did free up the office as a place for Mrs. Graves to sit alone and brood. Part of me understood but part of me wanted to shake her.

My dad showed up with Jeffrey and a case of beer.  They found places to wedge themselves into the living room after storing their beer in my fridge.  And that completed the male guest list.  Son of a gun, they’d all showed up.  And I was planning for maybe one or two.

“Chloe, who are all these strange men?” Rosemary whispered in my ear while smiling and waving to Bad Boy Elvis who was giving her the sneer.

“Don’t worry, they’re all close friends.  Besides, you know the Chief and my dad.  Why don’t you go introduce yourself?”

“I think I’ll join Mrs. Graves in the office, dear. This really isn’t my kind of thing.”

Althea showed up last, escorted by Dale Gordon.  They were shocked by what they found in the living room.  Althea was horrified.  Gordon was pleasantly surprised and immediately joined in with the action, accepting a bottle of JD from an already inebriated Mrs. Smith.

“Chloe, is this my baby shower?  Am I in the right place?” Althea gasped.

“This is it.  Welcome to the party.”

I assisted Althea across the living room— to choruses of congratulations— into Alex’s office, and onto a sofa beside Mrs. Graves, who was glowering and my mother-in-law who was watching the men in the living room with a mixture of loathing and fascination.

“Can I get you ladies anything?” I asked. “Maybe some punch?”

“Hey, Chloe,” I heard Alex call from the living room.  “We need someone to drive so we can make a beer run.”

“Excuse me for just one moment,” I said.

When I got to the living room I grabbed Alex by an ear and lifted him off the floor, where he’d been sitting cross legged talking with Living Dead Elvis.  I led him to the bedroom to bleats of “Ouch, ouch, ouch”.

“Alex, don’t you think that this party has gotten a little out of hand?”  I had to yell to be heard over the din.

We both looked back into the mayhem of the living room and watched as Mrs. Smith coached each of the Elvises individually on the signature moves of their chosen era.  Meanwhile, Dad, the Chief, Hawaiian Elvis, and Gordon were huddled together on the sofa, no doubt exchanging horror stories from their past police service.  Jeffrey was raiding the food table for what few tidbits were left, stuffing his cheeks until they bulged.  Mr. Jackman and Mrs. Graves were glaring across my home at one another.

I figured, to hell with it.

“Instead of going out, I’ll call Al’s Liquors and have him deliver a couple cases of beer,” I told Alex.  “In the meantime, why don’t you see if you can calm things down in there while I attend to the ladies?”

“Aye aye, sir,” Alex said, saluting.

He smiled because he knew it pissed me off when he pulled the military crap on me.  It was something he only did when he was drunk.  I considered punching him in the arm, but instead let him stagger away scot-free.

As I passed through the living room, I noticed that Bob Lincoln, Rosemary’s husband and my father-in-law, had joined the party.  That led me to wonder what Rosemary was going to say when she caught him drinking with the boys.  There proved to be no fears on that account since Rosemary was trapped in the kitchen trying to keep up with the food demands.

“Chloe, we’re going to have to make a grocery store run if this keeps up,” she said.

“Don’t worry, Rosemary.  I’ll call The Market and have them deliver whatever you need.”

The list of what she needed was extensive.  By the time I had written it all down I could hear Althea calling vociferously for me from the office.  I dashed into the far room expecting to find her having a baby on my new sofa.  And before I’d had a chance to have it Scotch Guarded.  All she seemed to need was some more attention, though.

“Chloe, are there going to be games at this party?” Althea asked in her demanding way.

“Chloe, may I have a cup of hot tea?” Mrs. Graves asked in her own sweet way.

“I’ll be right with you,” I said, and scrambled back to the kitchen.

“What’s the ETA on that beer, babe?” Alex queried as I hurried past.

“Chloe, where’s your whisker,” Rosemary asked as I entered the kitchen.

It required several minutes and the necessity of emptying several drawers and cabinets before I had found my whisker.  That’s when I noticed the Chief and Jeffrey standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Chloe, I wonder if we could have a few words with you,” the Chief asked, real humble like.

“Oh, Chief, does it have to be right now?  I’m really busy— I have a million things to do.”

“No, that’s alright.  I understand.  Maybe later.”

“Yes.  Later,” I concurred, lifting the phone handset from its cradle.

Then I froze.  Because that’s when I noticed the large crowd of men that had gathered behind the Chief.  Some of them were already heading out the door.

“Oh and Chloe,” the Chief continued.  “The boys wanted me to let you know that, since this place is dry, we’re going to head on down the road to the corner bar and continue the festivities there.”  Then he quickly added, “If you don’t mind. It’ll let you girls have fun without us.”

“No, I don’t mind one smidge, Chief,” I replied.

And within minutes, they were gone.  Almost all of them.  They had all filed through the office to wish best wishes to Althea, who accepted their wishes graciously, and from there they cycled out the door, each of the Elvises striking his best pose for me in the kitchen doorway before leaving.  I couldn’t help but laugh and wish them well.

The only two left were Alex and Gordon.  Mr. Lincoln hadn’t even bothered to remain behind.  The two who had been deserted by the rest stood in the center of the living room, looking contrite, like two little boys held at detention, that were both missing the big touch football game in the street outside.  They actually jumped for joy when I told them they could go.  They were out the door in a flash.

Stepping into the office, I handed Mrs. Graves her tea.  It was cold.  I took a seat in one of the easy chairs and surveyed the chaos that lay all around me.  It was significant.

“Honey, I’m afraid you’re going to have to hire a cleaning service to slop this place out,” Rosemary said, kneeling next to me and taking my hand.  “Either that or open all the doors and windows and hose everything out.”

I squeezed her hand.

“Thanks, Rosemary.”

“Chloe, this was the worst baby shower I’ve ever attended.  What’s wrong with you?” Althea proclaimed as I helped her to her feet.

“I’m just glad that abhorred man is gone,” Mrs. Graves said, rising from her seat.

“Thanks for the encouragement, girls.”

And with that, the last of my guests left.  My home was a shambles.  Thankfully, they closed the door quietly behind them.  I was ready to scream.  I was also glad to have them go and be left alone.  Their departure left me sitting in my easy chair and wondering when and where it had all gone so wrong.

Blue crept out of the office, looking just as traumatized. I realized the cats must be hiding under the bed.

Chapter 9

As I sat amongst the debris that had once been my home, Alex was the first to return.  He looked terrible and was barely able to stand let alone walk.  This left me wondering how he had managed to stagger back from the pub.  It also found me glad that the nearest pub was literally on the corner.  He naturally arced toward the bedroom, but before he collapsed in bed, he stopped, leaning heavily on the door jamb.

“Chloe?”

“Yes, Alex?”

“I’ll always have your back, whatever you choose to do.  You know that, don’t you?”

“Thank you.  I know that now, Alex,” I said, although I hadn’t been sure about that until he’d uttered these words in a state of inebriation. My uncertainty had left me feeling cold inside.

“And about the working together thing?”

“Yes?”

“I’d like to give it another go.  This time I’ll be less of a prick than I was the first time.  I’ll give you the automnomy… the automony… the freedom you need to do what makes you unique as a private investigator.”

“I appreciate that, Alex.” And I would, maybe tomorrow.

“And another thing.”

“Yes.”

“If you’d really like to have a child, I’m ready to talk about it.”

“Thank you.”

“But you should choose one: career or children.  I don’t think you’ll be happy unless you give one hundred percent to whatever you’re doing.  You’ll drive yourself crazy if you try to do both at the same time.”

“Thank you, Alex.  I’ll surely consider that.”

“Good,” he concluded.  “I have to go throw up now.”

“Alright.  Do you need any help?”

“No, thank you.  I think I can throw up on my own.”

Then he saluted and was gone.  I was left to sit amongst the debris and listen to him being sick in the bathroom.  I decided to clear a space on the kitchen counter so that I could make a cup of coffee.  As I stood in the kitchen, waiting for my coffee to brew, I saw the postman slip the mail through the slot in the door.  It fell amongst the tattered crepe paper decorations that littered the foyer.  I walked over and picked it up.

One of the pieces of mail was a letter from a lawyer in Thorny Springs.  I stepped back into the kitchen to retrieve my coffee and took a seat in the office to read the missive.  It contained a letter written in longhand by Miss Cartwright.

Dear Ms. Boston,

I’m sending you this letter to thank you for setting my dear Thomas free.  I’m sure that if he were able, he would send his thanks himself.  Since he is not, I speak for the both of us in expressing our deepest gratitude for your prompt actions.

I know that you don’t believe that Thomas was the ghost of my late ancestor.  I suppose that also means that you don’t believe I spent my life growing up with him.  In any case, you did the right thing in setting an old woman’s mind at ease so she can pass freely into the hereafter.

I can feel the end drawing near.  I must rest now and will write more in the morning.

The letter was accompanied by a type written sheet of paper containing the attorney’s letterhead.  It read as follows.

Dear Ms. Boston

The letter enclosed was discovered on the end table of Miss Catherine Cartwright the morning that she was found dead in her bed, having passed away in her sleep the previous night.  The letter is being forwarded to you on the advisement of Nurse Rachael Hailey.

I am writing you for two purposes.  First, to forward Miss Cartwright’s letter along with my condolences.  Second, to inform you that you were mentioned in Miss Cartwright’s Last Will and Testament.  I warn you that the estate left behind by the good lady is substantial as is your share in it.

I regret that I am not free to write further on this important matter in this letter.  Please contact me at your earliest possible convenience to discuss the disposition of your share of the inheritance.

Yours,

Franklin L. Desoto

Attorney at Law

I folded the letter and laid it aside.  I took a sip from my coffee and, after some sad thoughts, forced myself to be happy for Miss Cartwright.  In the end, she had gotten what she wanted more than anything else.  What more could anyone want out of life?

That’s when the door flew open and the Chief and Jeffrey stumbled back into my duplex.  They had their arms around each other’s shoulders helping to support one another as they staggered.

The Chief guided the two to the office where they stopped and stood unsteadily before my chair.

“Chloe, I’d like to have a word with you now, if you don’t mind,” the Chief announced, sounding astonishingly sober.

“Shoot.”

“Look, I know that it’s only been a week, but I need you back.  Things just aren’t the same around the station without you.  Jeffrey here has been working himself ragged trying to keep up with the work demands while we search for a replacement.  In the meantime, I have a new case that I’d really like to get your opinion on.”

“So, now you want me back?”

“Yes.”

“What happened to carrying a gun?”

“Your call.”

“Am I coming back as a meter maid?”

“You can come back in any capacity you choose.  I’ll support you all the way.  And I’d have Gordon, that lardhead, here with me to apologize if I could find him. I didn’t know until today what he’d been saying.” The Chief turned red.  “Look, just come back.”

I thought about it, but not too quickly because I was numb.  I guess the Chief thought I’d thought about it too long.  He mustered his sidekick’s assistance in persuading me.

“Go ahead, Jeffrey.  Tell her what you told me on the way over here,” the Chief urged.  “You’ll like this,” he assured me. “This is good.”

“Chloe, I think I’m going to be sick,” Jeffrey warned.

“Go ahead into the bathroom,” I told him.  “I think that Alex is done in there.”

“I’ll be right back,” the Chief said before guiding Jeffrey to the lavatory.

Again, I was left to sit alone in my chair and muddle through everything that was happening.  I wasn’t even halfway through my muddling when my cell phone rang.  I considered not answering but couldn’t stand not knowing who and what it was.

“Hello,” I said.

“Boston, this is Gordon.  She’s gone into labor,” I heard a frantic voice announce.

“Wait.  Slow down.  Who’s gone into labor?”

“Althea, who else?” He was pardonably exasperated.

“But she isn’t due for another month.”

“I know, but we’re at the hospital now.  They say that there are problems.  They’re going to have to take the baby early.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Is Aunt Dot there?”

“No, she and your mom are gone somewhere. And she’s calling for you.”

“Who?”

“Althea, who else?”

“She’s calling for me?”

“You are her birthing partner, aren’t you?”

“I’m not sure.  And besides, I was her natural child birthing partner, not her emergency C-section birthing partner.”

“Chloe, she needs you,” Gordon pleaded.

I thought about it for the moment.  I heard Jeffrey being sick in my bathroom, and from the sounds of it he’d missed the toilet bowl.  I decided that it might be best to abandon ship.

“Are you at the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“Alright.  Hold on and I’ll be right there,” I announced.

“And Boston,” the voice called before I could hang up.

“Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Closing my cell phone and slipping it into my pocket, I grabbed my meter maid coat, the one with the badges on the sleeves, on my way out the door.

About the Author

Melanie Jackson is the author of 23 novels.  If you enjoyed this story, please visit Melanie’s author web site at www.melaniejackson.com.

eBooks by Melanie Jackson:

The Chloe Boston Mystery Series:

Moving Violation

The Pumpkin Thief

Death in a Turkey Town

Murder on Parade

Cupid’s Revenge

Viva Lost Vegas

Death of a Dumb Bunny

Red, White and a Dog Named Blue

Haunted

The Butterscotch Jones Mystery Series

Due North

Big Bones

The Book of Dreams Series:

The First Book of Dreams: Metropolis

The Second Book of Dreams: Meridian

The Third Book of Dreams: Destiny

Club Valhalla

Devil of Bodmin Moor

Devil in a Red Coat

Halloween

Knave of Hearts

The Curiosity Shoppe (Sequel to A Curious Affair)

Nevermore: The Last Divine Book

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

eBooks by Melanie Jackson:

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

eBooks by Melanie Jackson: