Death by Haunting (3 page)

Both women looked at me with scorn.

“Tell me what happened, Mavis. I’ve got to know if there’s an afterlife. I’ll be going soon myself and it would be a comfort to know that a loved one would come for me.”

“That’s just it, June. Terry hated Mama. She always berated him while living. I think it was just an odd choice to send her.”

I bit my tongue trying to be diplomatic for once. I wanted to know why Mavis didn’t think her mother had come for her. “Why do you think your mama came for Terry?” I asked.

Mavis blew her nose in an overused hanky. “Something was bothering him. Something fierce, but he wouldn’t tell me what it was. It started after your Valentine party, June. He was happy when we got there and then jumpy afterwards.”

I suddenly became interested, as the purpose of the Valentine party was to introduce Jean Louis to Bluegrass society.

I didn’t like Jean Louis. His lips said one thing, but his eyes said something else. Jean Louis was always asking questions, snooping.

Hey! Wait a minute. That sounds like me!

I didn’t trust him and had been keeping an eye on him until Matt had been shot, then gave up. I had other priorities.

“What do you think was bothering him, Mavis?” asked June, greatly concerned. “Did someone say something to Terry that upset him? Had you been cattin’ around on him?”

Mavis gave a brief smile at the last suggestion. “What a ridiculous idea at my age!” She shook her head. “Like I said, he wouldn’t tell me.”

“Can you pinpoint exactly during the party when Terry became upset,” I asked. “It might be important.”

Mavis put a finger to her lips in thought. “Well, I was talking to Mrs. Dupuy about the robbery last Christmas when Terry interrupted us, saying he wanted to go home. He was very insistent.”

“What had he been doing?”

Mavis spoke to June. “You know how he loved art. He was going into each of the rooms that were open for the party and looking at the artwork, saving the library for the last to look at your portrait. Of course, the portrait wasn’t finished, but he wanted to see the sketching on the canvas.”

“Was he coming from the library?” I inquired.

“He was coming from the direction of the library, but I first saw him near the staircase,” recounted Mavis, closing her eyes to help her remember the scene. “But I can’t tell you for sure if he had been in the library.”

“And?” I prompted.

“It wasn’t too long after that Mother started showing up at night. Oh, it gave us both a terrible fright. We weren’t sure what she wanted. She would never say. Just stood in the corner of the bedroom looking . . . how shall I put it? This is terrible to say about one’s own mother, but she looked creepy.”

“To say the least,” comforted June.

“It turned out she wanted Terry. He had a heart attack several weeks after the haunting.” Mavis blew her nose again. “You’d think she’d come for me. I’m her blood.”

“She might still, Mavis,” I predicted.

Mavis jerked her head up. “Oh?” She didn’t like that idea at all.

“What did Terry do between the party and your mother’s appearance?” I asked.

“He was on the Internet constantly and then going to the library looking up old newspaper stories.” Mavis blew her nose again.

“Do you know what about?” questioned June, handing Mavis a hanky from her purse.

Mavis was becoming somewhat untidy with all the nose blowing. She wiped her nose, looking at the both of us with wide, red-rimmed brown eyes that glistened with unspent tears. “Yes. He was investigating art thefts.”

I started to ask about this when Mavis’ son-in-law came to fetch her.

It was not the right time to question Mavis. The subject of art theft had certainly gotten my attention. That was a bone this dog would definitely dig up.

4

H
ere it was.

The conversation I dreaded.

I knew I was going to face a devil of a time, but it was already taking a nasty turn. There was just no talking sense to Franklin when it concerned Matt.

Matt was my best friend since my divorce from Brannon. We met at a party where I helped him win a bet about an old movie. Since then we had been as thick as thieves.

Franklin had been Matt’s partner until Matt decided to marry Meriah Caldwell. You see now this is a complicated matter.

Matt didn’t marry Meriah because a crazy woman committed a murder/suicide at their nuptials. That would put a pall over any ceremony. In the end, Matt decided not to marry Meriah but there was one small issue.

Meriah was pregnant.

I know this sounds like a soap opera, but life is messy like a soap opera.

Matt stayed. Meriah flew back to Los Angeles.

Then while helping a friend recover her son’s body, Matt and I were attacked by O’nan, that rogue cop I was telling you about. He shot Matt and then tried to drown me in the Cumberland River, but someone shot him with a sniper’s rifle. His body was recovered at the bottom of Cumberland Falls. He was dead but the damage was done.

The doctors are not sure that Matt will ever recover. So I had made the decision to send Matt to Meriah because she had the money to take care of him . . . and now I was telling Franklin.

“And he’s gone. Just like that.”

I nodded. “He left last night on a chartered plane. I got word this morning that he arrived safely in Los Angeles and is okay. Everything went smoothly.”

Franklin patted Baby, who had lodged his big head on Franklin’s lap.

Baby whined and looked at Franklin with his big eyes, only one of which could see, as O’nan had wounded it when he shot the dog as a puppy. It’s one of the many reasons I had hated O’nan.

When Franklin cast an irritable glance at him, Baby wagged his massive tail, thumping heavily against the couch. Baby knew something was wrong with Franklin and was trying to comfort him the only way he knew.

“Who gave you the right to make a decision like this?”

“I told you last week about the possibility that this might have to happen. I called several times but you never returned my calls, so I went ahead.”

Franklin stared at me with complete disgust. “I mean, who gave you the legal right to make such a decision, to send a gravely ill man clear across the country? He could have died en route.”

“Matt gave me Power of Attorney. I am his legal guardian if he is incapacitated, as he is mine. You know that, Franklin. When I fell off the cliff, he was making all the difficult decisions until Asa arrived.”

“You never left us alone,” Franklin accused. “You got Matt to live here. You slept with him. You were constantly interfering in our lives. We could have made a go of it, if you had stayed out of the picture.”

“Franklin, listen to me. Matt wanted to live here. He didn’t like city living. The truth is that Matt and I were close long before you came into the picture. I could say that you interfered with my relationship with Matt.”

“You are such a liar. You seduced him.”

“I feel very guilty that my relationship with Matt stepped over normal boundaries on your watch, but that it happened – no. It was a wonderful experience . . . one that I will cherish for the rest of my life.”

I grabbed his hands and refused to let go. “Franklin, don’t turn away. He needs constant care if he is going to recover. His insurance will not cover that. The nursing care is only for a few hours a day. Matt was going to be released from the hospital. He didn’t have the medical backup he needed and I’m not strong enough to have cared for him.”

“I could have helped.”

“No, Franklin. You have a job. You have a life, friends. Matt would not have let you give up your daily routine to help him recover. He’s too proud.”

“I love him.”

“I love him too, but did you ever think that our love is a burden? Did you ever think that Matt wants to be free of us?”

A tear escaped Franklin’s eye.

“Meriah has more money than God. She can afford to pick up what the insurance won’t cover. She has placed him in her guesthouse and he has around-the-clock nursing care. Plus he has a reason to be there. She is going to give birth to his baby in a few weeks. Surely that will give Matt a reason to recover, a reason to live. That baby will give Matt strength.”

“He won’t ever come back. Meriah will get her claws into him.”

“We’re no good for Matt.”

Franklin stood up. “You’re no good for Matt. I’ve had nothing but misery since I’ve known you. Shootings and accidents that a normal person should not go through. You’re a jinx, Josiah Reynolds; a bloody noose around our necks. And you’ve destroyed us. Came between me and the only person I will ever love. God, I hate you. I really hate you!” Franklin rushed out of the house, slamming the door.

Baby looked at me with a confused expression.

“Let him go, Baby. Let him go,” I murmured. “He’ll be back when he sees that I made the right decision.”

But what worried me was that Franklin might be right.

Maybe I was a jinx.

5

“I
take it that it didn’t go well,” suggested June when I plumped down on the bed next to her.

I had a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle, the most expensive bourbon made, which I had swiped out of the downstairs liquor cabinet. I could never afford it and had spent some time drinking it in the den before taking the elevator to her Ladyship’s bedroom where June was currently ensconced.

I took a swig, shuddering slightly when the golden brown liquid hit my system. “He hates me. And I don’t blame him, June. I would hate me, too.”

“Franklin will get over it.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. This runs very deep with him. Franklin feels betrayed by both Matt and I. I mean me. No, it is I. Isn’t it? His love for Matt is what Franklin says it is. I think Matt is the only man Franklin will ever love and I just sent his lover boy thousands of miles out of reach.”

“Grammatically, it’s me. You did what was best for Matt. He must realize that Matt wanted to go. Helped make the decision.”

“Franklin doesn’t want to see that. It’s all my fault.” I took another swig.

“Oh, well. ‘Time heals all wounds.’ ”

“ ‘It is easier to forgive a friend . . .’ ”

“Ah, here we go,” scoffed June.

“No, it goes like this . . . ‘it is easier to forgive an enemy than forgive a friend.’ William Blake.”

“ ‘Et tu, Brute?’ Shakespeare.”

“ ‘You betray me with a kiss?’ Jesus.”

June reached for her bottle of bourbon and poured some in her tea. “ ‘We have to distrust each other. It’s our only defense against betrayal.’ Tennessee Williams.”

“ ‘It is all right to rat . . . you just can’t re-rat.’ Winston Churchill.”

“What does that mean?”

“I think he was referring to switching political parties.”

“Hardly the type of betrayal we are talking about.”

“You’re so right,” I chirped, grabbing the bottle back from her Ladyship. “Okay. ‘If I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country.’ Edward M. Forster.”

“ ‘Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.’ Arthur Miller.”

“ ‘Dealing with backstabbers, there was only one thing I learned. They’re only powerful when you got your back turned.’ ”

“Who said that?”

“Eminem.”

“M&M? Isn’t that awfully clever for a piece of candy?”

“I think it’s part of the Mars candy mission statement.” And after taking yet another swig of Pappy’s, I promptly passed out.

6

I
awoke to find myself nicely tucked into June’s massive bed. “Jumping Jehosaphat!” I moaned. “I feel like last year’s rat poop.”

Stumbling out of bed I called for June, but no one answered. I smelled her perfume lingering in the room, so she had to have been here recently.

Was it already dark outside? I looked for a clock by the bed. It was after eight. Mercifully I hadn’t planned anything for that night, but there was a dog waiting that surely had to pee-pee.

After tinkling, washing my face and using the last of June’s mouthwash, I took the elevator downstairs.

The house was dark except for an occasional hallway light scattering the gloom here and there, and it was eerily quiet.

I called out, but no one answered.

In the kitchen I found a glass of water and a note tucked under a bottle of aspirin.

It was written in June’s shaky handwriting,

Don’t take too many, Dearie. Remember Addison DeWitt. I still love you, even if no one else does. June

PS. Leftovers in fridge. Better than what you have at home, I bet.

Hmmm. Looking in the fridge, I found several microwave containers with my name on them. Rather than take them home, I popped them in the microwave and nuked them. I also poured myself some iced tea.

The microwave beeped. Taking out one container, I popped in another. After taking some aspirin and downing a full glass of tea, I opened the first container. Eggplant Parmesan with garlic bread. Lovely and yummy. Ate that up quick.

Now for the second container. I slowly opened the seal.

Osso bucco!! Jackpot!!!

I groaned as I savored the first few bites. What’s this? My head was no longer pounding. I actually felt like a human being again. Time to go home. I would share the leftover bounty with my friend, Baby.

Picking up the food container, I went into the hallway. “Bye!” I called. “And thanks.”

No one answered.

“Anyone here?” I cried.

The silence was deafening.

That’s when a little idea took shape in my head. Usually when those little ideas creep into my Wiener schnitzel, Matt is standing in front of me . . . saying no. But Matt was not here. Matt was in Los Angeles with a hot nurse giving him sponge baths while I was struggling in the Kentucky winter which wouldn’t break for nuttin’.

Putting the food container on a hallway table, I crept down the main hallway and knocked on the library door. Hearing no response, I slowly peeked around the door and found the library empty.