Bring Home the Murder (9 page)

 

Chapter 15

T
o be honest with you,” Shirley said, rolling her shoulders and stretching at the kitchen table. “I thought I might find you this morning in front of a boiling cauldron reciting ‘Double, double! Toil and trouble!'”

“‘Fire burn and cauldron bubble!'” Meggie laughed. “That's witches, not ghosts. I may have a wrinkle or two, but so far no warts on my nose. And I don't wear a pointy hat.”

Shirley chewed a bite of bagel and washed it down with a swallow of prune juice. “You're right. Ghosts and witches are not the same thing, but like it or not something strange is going on here. After what you disclosed yesterday, I could hardly sleep.”

Meggie nodded. “Odd smells, white horses, no hoofbeats.”

“And to top it off,” Shirley threw up her hands, “we belly crawl to the top of a hill in the horse pasture and find Indiana Jones digging like his life depended on it. Then someone or something invades the attic!”

“You're right. Something strange is going on.” Meggie pushed her plate away and crossed her arms. “I don't know if the supernatural events have anything to do with the treasure hunter or the intruder, but I have an idea how we might solve one of the mysteries.”

Shirley stroked her neck. “We, as in you and me, solve a mystery? Been there, done that.” She laughed from the side of her mouth but her eyes brightened. “What did you have in mind?”

 

 

Later that morning when the farm chores were done, the women rested on the back patio. “We better get busy if we're going to carry out my plan,” Meggie said. “We'll need a thick rope, and I know just where to find one.”

The barn door rattled to the side. Meggie lifted the lantern off the wall and headed toward the far side of the barn past the horse stalls. Light shone over the corner of the building and settled on a thick rope hanging from the back wall.

Meggie stood on her tiptoes, grabbed hold of the rope and slung it over her shoulder. “This should work,” she said and started for the barn door.

“What's the rope for?” Shirley questioned her. “You need to tell me what we're going to do. My life won't be in any danger, will it?”

“You won't be in any danger. Trust me.” Meggie handed the lantern to Shirley while she slid the barn door back in place.

“I've heard those words before,” Shirley mumbled to herself and followed her friend back toward the house.

“Here we are.” Meggie tossed the rope on the ground. She kicked aside the excess birch debris left from the day Walter cut the tree up for firewood.

“Here we are.” Shirley threw her hand on her hip and gazed around. “Where exactly are we? And now that we're here, what exactly are we going to do?”

Meggie knelt down and peered up at Shirley. “Can you help me move these bricks and plywood off this old well?”

“Old well?” Shirley set the lantern down and crossed her arms. “Before I expend another ounce of energy, I want you to cough it up and tell me what this is all about.”

Meggie sat back on her haunches and looked up at her friend. A long sigh escaped her. “Long story short?”

Shirley gave her a curt nod. “Long story short.”

“I think Fred Jackson is down there.” She jabbed her finger over the well.”

Shirley's chin dropped and her eyes opened wide. “Are you kidding me? The Fred Jackson who supposedly ran off with Amelia?” She lowered herself to Meggie's level. “Why on earth do you think he's down there? He's probably off playing footsie in some senior citizens home with his lady love.”

“I discovered this abandoned well after the storm. When the birch tree toppled over, its roots jarred the concrete loose.” Meggie nodded at the piece of concrete that lay close by. She lowered her voice and rushed her words. “After I uncovered the well, I peered in and something eerie happened.”

Shirley quirked an eyebrow. “Something eerie?”

Meggie explained how a blast of cold air escaped from the well cavity, wrapped itself around her and dissipated.

“If you're right and Fred's down there, shouldn't we call someone, like maybe law enforcement?”

“Think about it.” Meggie splayed her hands out. “Bulldog and probably half the department already think I drink too much. If I go in there and tell them there's a body at the bottom of an old well in the backyard where I'm housesitting, they'll think I'm a real nut job.”

“I see your point. I have to admit I see their point, too.” Shirley scratched her temple. “Correct me if I'm wrong, Sherlock, but are we going to use this rope to go well diving?”

Meggie shook her head. “Not we. I wouldn't ask you to do something that might put your life in danger. Your job will be easy, but first we need to remove these bricks and plywood.”

Together they began to remove the bricks. When the last one had been taken off, they pulled the plywood away from the hole and set it off to the side.

Next Meggie took the end of the rope and wrapped it around one of the bricks. She leaned over the well and fed the rope through her hands until the block hit bottom. From her pocket she drew out a black permanent marker. She made a thick black line around the rope where it lay over the edge of the well. In her other pocket she carried a length of orange reflective tape she had scrounged from the trunk of her car. She brought it out and tied it around the black line.

She wiped the perspiration from her forehead and stood up. Hand over hand she pulled at the rope until the weight appeared. She set it on the ground and started for the back door. “Wait here. I'll be right back,” she called over her shoulder.

The gardening bag sat inside the back door. She rummaged through it, found a pair of garden gloves and a hand trowel. In the bedroom she slipped on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, then removed the belt from her summer robe. She picked her car keys up from the kitchen table and hurried out the front door.

Inside the Bug she turned the key in the ignition and shifted the car into reverse. She backed around the side of the house and kept a close eye in the rearview mirror. The Bug skirted the clothesline, crossed over the path between the house and gazebo and stopped some distance from the well.

She killed the engine and stepped out of the car. With long strides she estimated the distance between the Bug's back bumper and the well. She spotted Shirley resting under the shade of a nearby oak tree and waved her over to the well.

After removing the block from the end of the rope she folded the rope end back and formed a small loop then tied a knot. She pulled it tight, tested it and pushed the other end of the rope through to form a larger loop. Close to the looped end she tied a couple of double knots.

“Here's how it'll work. I'm going to secure this end,” she shook the unknotted end of rope in her hand and walked toward the car, “underneath the back bumper of the Bug.” She lowered herself, stretched out on the ground and squirmed underneath the car.

Once the rope was secured she wriggled back out. She stood up and brushed herself off. “I'll use the loop at the other end of the rope like a swing and you'll lower me into the well.”

“This is crazy! I didn't volunteer for assisted suicide duty.” Color drained from Shirley's face.

“Don't worry, I'll be fine.” Meggie threw her shoulders back. “The well isn't that deep. From what I can tell, it's partially filled with rocks and gravel. But it's a bit too deep for the step ladder. Besides, there's hardly room down there for me, let alone a ladder. Stand right there.”

She walked to the gazebo, pulled a decorative garden stake out of the ground and carried it back to where Shirley waited.

Meggie's lips turned up at the corners. “You look as if you've lost your last friend. Really, it's going to be okay. I know a man who rescued his cat from a well. And he lived to tell about it.”

Shirley looked doomed. “That doesn't make me feel any better. It only proves you're not the only screwball around.”

Meggie tapped the stake against her leg. “We really don't have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable. I honestly didn't invite you to the farm to involve you in a caper. I thought you wanted to help me.”

“Here comes the guilt trip.” Shirley pressed her lips together and nodded. “All right, count me in. I'm a little curious about what happened to Fred, too.”

“Great. When the back bumper lines up with this stake,” Meggie pushed the stake into the ground next to the rope's orange reflective tape, “stop the car and turn it off. You'll be able to see the stake better if you hang your head out the window.” Shirley groaned but Meggie continued giving her instructions. “By the time you've reached the stake, the orange reflective tape will be at the mouth of the well and I'll be at the bottom of it.”

“Let's hope we pull this off or you'll be spending an awful lot of time with Fred.” Shirley glanced at the well and shuddered.

“After you turn the car off, get out and walk over to the well to make sure I'm all right. It shouldn't take me long. When I'm finished just pull me up.”

Shirley pinched the skin at her throat and met her friend's eyes. “I hope you find what you're looking for. You do know this stunt probably tops the list of absolutely crazy things you've ever done.” She sighed. “And once again I've agreed to help with crazy.”

Meggie wagged her finger back and forth. “Not crazy. Extreme perhaps. Maybe even daring, but not crazy. Are you ready?” Shirley nodded. “Good. Let's do it. Remember, back up real slow so I don't drop down too fast. We'll be done before you know it.”

Shirley's shoulders slumped, and her feet shuffled on the way to the Bug. She glanced over her shoulder and warned, “Be careful.”

Meggie tossed the hand trowel into the well and waited for the clunk on the bottom. She held the bathrobe belt in her hand and fed it through the lantern's handle. After she tied the ends together, she turned the lantern on and positioned the belt around her neck.

She slipped on the garden gloves, placed the looped end of the rope over her shoulders and underneath her bottom then sat down on the edge of the well. She flipped over on her stomach, grasped the double knot with both hands and slid off the side of the well where she dangled in the hollow space. “I'm ready,” she yelled. “Take it slow.”

The Bug slowly backed up. Meggie began to descend. She pushed her leg against the inside of the old well to center herself and bounced down a couple inches, then a foot. She gripped the rope and pulled slightly to lessen the strain on her bottom.

Sunlight faded as she sank lower into the well. The lantern jiggled against her chest and a soft light bounced off the well walls. To her surprise, the lining of the well appeared to be in good shape.

The rope scraped against the lip of the well. Dank air pressed in on her and an ache gripped the pit of her stomach. She clenched the rope tighter, drifted slightly and dropped several more inches.

Her back skimmed the brick-lined wall. She maneuvered herself away from it and looked into the void. The floor rose up to meet her. She stretched her leg until the tip of her shoe touched then rested on the rock-strewn bed.

A door slammed above her and seconds later Shirley hung her head over the side of the well and shouted, “Hey, are you all right down there?” Her voice echoed inside the well.

Meggie looked skyward and called, “I'm fine. Give me a few minutes.” She squatted down into the small space, lifted the lantern over her shoulder and set it down beside her. The rock bed glowed under the lantern's light.

She shifted her weight and winced. Rough pebbles and little chunks of cement jabbed at her knees. She cleared the annoying stones away and resumed her position. Her eyes scanned the bed's surface. Several larger rocks had been tossed down the well onto smaller stones and gravel.

She leaned forward, hooked her fingers around one of the rocks and shoved it off to the side. She began moving more of the rocks. When the last big rock had been moved, she sat back on her haunches and studied the depressions in the floor.

She reached for the trowel and a woozy feeling washed over her. Her head began to spin. No way did she want to faint. Not here, not now. She hung her head and closed her eyes.

“Hey, what's going on down there? You feel all right? You're not moving,” Shirley shouted.

In a few seconds the episode passed. Meggie lifted her head and shouted back, “I felt a little dizzy, that's all. I'm fine now.” She picked up the trowel and scooped a pile of loose rocks and gravel up, then tossed them to the side and continued digging.

The sweatshirt that protected her skin on the descent into the well had now become uncomfortably warm. She lifted the sweatshirt's hem and shook it up and down to create a little air flow but it didn't help much. The well was short on room and short on oxygen. She wondered if she would last much longer.

Meggie shifted into high gear and thrust the trowel downward. The blade struck something. She dug around the area. A dark object protruded from the ground. She took hold of it and tugged, but it held fast. She cautiously cleared away more gravel. Her scalp prickled. She had uncovered what looked like the toe of a leather boot.

Carefully she continued her quest with the trowel then her gloved fingers. Finally, she found what she had been looking for. “Shirley,” she screamed. “I found him!”

Shirley shouted back. “You found Fred?”

“I'm not positive it's Fred, but whoever it is, he's dead.”

 

Chapter 16

L
ater that afternoon, Meggie handed Shirley a cola and suggested they sit on the back patio. She pulled the tab on her pop can, led the way outside and sat down. She said nothing, but her eyes were riveted on the well.

“What are you thinking about?” Shirley asked after a bit. “You're awfully quiet and that doesn't bode well.”

“We need to drive to the Law Enforcement Center today.” Meggie sipped her root beer. “I'm wondering how Bulldog will react when we break the news to him about Fred.”

A fly buzzed around Shirley's soft drink. She brushed it away and chuckled. “You're worried Bulldog won't believe you, will insinuate you have an overactive imagination and, in his condescending way, will suggest you retire from housesitting.” Shirley grinned and tilted her head. “Tell me I'm right.”

“You might be.” Meggie kept her eyes glued to the center of the backyard. “I do know how we might be able to prove to him that Fred is buried in the well.”

Shirley frowned. “How do you propose to do that?”

Meggie stood up and looked down at Shirley. “We could take a picture of his ghost.” Shirley opened her mouth to say something but Meggie held up her hand, instructed her to wait on the patio and rushed into the house. She returned with her digital camera.

Shirley shook her head. “Take a picture of Fred's ghost? You're serious, aren't you?”

Meggie sat down on the edge of the patio chair and adjusted her camera. “Remember when we spoke to that tour guide in Key West and he described orbs?”

Shirley smirked and nodded. “I remember. He said ghosts have been known to appear on photos as small white globules or orbs. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you were very skeptical and spent most of the night trying to explain away the phenomenon.”

“You're right, but I've been doing some research on ghosts. Did you know they say you can actually talk to ghosts and ask them to show up in photos? Some orbs even have faces on them.”

Shirley leaned forward. Her eyes squinted. “You mean to tell me you actually believe that?”

Meggie shrugged. “I'm not sure what I believe anymore. But what have we got to lose? We can take some pictures, see what happens and maybe convince Bulldog we know what we're talking about.”

“I've accused you of having a screw loose before, but now I think it's fallen out and rolled away.” Shirley shook her head. “But I suppose we have nothing to lose. What do we have to do?”

Meggie stood up and encouraged Shirley to follow her. She led the way toward the old well, stopped within several yards of it and put her finger to her lip.

“What's the matter?” Shirley spoke in a low voice and stood behind Meggie. “Are you going to talk to Fred's ghost?”

Meggie nodded and with a shaky voice addressed the ghost of Fred Jackson. “Hello, Fred. My name is Meggie Moore and this is Shirley Wright. We believe you're the one buried in the old well, but we need to prove this to the authorities.” Meggie paused.

“This is giving me the willies.” Shirley took a step backward and poked her friend. “Tell him to say cheese, snap the picture and let's get back to the house.”

“Please pose for this picture.” Meggie held up the camera and snapped the picture. She took several more then turned around and hurried back to the patio where Shirley waited for her.

Meggie's hands shook and her eyes grew wide as she examined each photograph. She looked at Shirley, handed her the camera and waited for her friend's reaction.

“Let me get this straight.” Detective Bulldog leaned forward in his chair at the Law Enforcement Center and zeroed in on Meggie. “You believe someone murdered Fred Jackson and threw him down the old well out at Riley's hobby farm. And you believe this because you felt his spirit ascend out of the well when you uncovered it the day after the storm. How am I doing so far?”

Meggie clenched her jaw and nodded, “That's right.”

Bulldog pointed at Shirley. “So you tied a rope to the underside of Meggie's Volkswagen Bug and lowered your friend into the well so she could search for Fred's remains?”

Shirley slumped in her chair and stole a peek at Meggie then looked back at Bulldog. “Not exactly. Meggie tied the rope to the Bug.”

Bulldog blew air through his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. After several seconds he stood up and walked to the front of the desk. He shoved aside a pile of papers, sat down on the corner and dangled his leg.

Meggie folded her arms and watched the detective's leg swing back and forth. She gave him a glassy stare. “I suppose you don't believe any of this?”

Bulldog took a deep breath. “I believe you're convinced someone murdered Fred. I believe you're convinced his spirit attached itself to you so you would search for his killer.” He glanced at Shirley and then back at Meggie. “I believe you had your friend lower you into the well at the end of a rope.”

He rubbed his right index finger against the back of his left hand and regarded Meggie. “I believe you found an old boot and some bones. Whether or not those bones belong to Fred is another story.”

Meggie opened her mouth to speak, but Bulldog held up his hand. “I'm not saying they aren't Fred's bones. I'm just saying they might not be. Did it occur to you that some animal might have fallen down the well at some time?”

“There's one more thing.” Meggie opened her purse and brought out the camera. “We have a picture of Fred's ghost.”

Bulldog's mouth slackened. He gaped at Meggie. “Excuse me? You have a
photograph
of Fred's ghost?”

Meggie stood up and handed him the digital camera.

Bulldog slid off the desk and looked down at the picture. After several seconds he scratched his jaw and his eyes locked on Meggie. “Is this some kind of joke? I don't see a ghost or anything that might resemble one. All I see is a pigpen and a big old barn.”

Meggie inched closer to Bulldog, leaned over the camera and tapped her finger against the tiny screen. Right there. It's called an orb.”

“It doesn't have a face though,” Shirley chimed in.

“Face?” Bulldog puffed out his cheeks and shook his head in disbelief. He handed the camera back to Meggie and rubbed his brow. “Tell you what. I'll see what I can do, but if we decide to check it out, we'll need to get in touch with the property owners.”

Bulldog wrote down the information he needed and tossed the pencil on the desk. He opened the office door. “Ladies, we'll keep in touch.” After he shook Shirley's hand he turned to Meggie, clasped her hand and held it for several seconds. “You're sure you don't have an overactive imagination?”

Meggie shook her head, peeked at Shirley from the corner of her eye and quirked an eyebrow.

Bulldog continued. “As one friend to another, I think you ought to retire from housesitting, Meggie. Stay home and take care of Walter. It's safer, and it'll keep you out of trouble.”

The women left Bulldog's office and made their way down the aisle between several cubicles. In one cubicle a uniformed deputy sat at his desk, looked up as they passed by, then quickly looked away. A second deputy clicked on his keyboard and darted glances at them. Near the lobby door three deputies were deep in conversation, but fell silent when they saw Meggie and Shirley approach.

The women crossed the lobby. Meggie pushed against the glass door that led outside and held it open for Shirley. When they were several feet away from the building, Shirley glanced over her shoulder. “That went over like a lead balloon.”

“At least he might have it checked out,” Meggie shuddered. “Now I know what it feels like to walk the gauntlet. Did you notice how quiet it became when we walked by everyone?”

“Yeah, I'm sure they think you're loony.” Shirley caught herself and quickly added, “I mean they think
we're
loony.”

“Who cares what they think?” Meggie turned to Shirley. “I do have one question.”

Shirley rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you do.”

Meggie unlocked the driver's door and looked over the Bug's roof at Shirley. “If Fred rests at the bottom of the well, where is Amelia?”