The Truth About Mallory Bain (37 page)

“It is possible, then, that he's showing her his murder,” said Ben.

“Any of these unknowns are possible. The spirit resides in the same house,” said Judith. “He has connected with your child.”

I gently squeezed Ben's hand and leaned into him. “Caleb takes the knocking and whispering in his stride. I do not.”

“Surely you've noticed something different in him.”

I only needed a moment. “He started changing the words to “The Wheels on the Bus” before we left Tennessee. Now it's his monkey poem. The children's rhyme about monkeys jumping on the bed. You know it.”

She nodded, tilted her head, and listened to what we had to say.

“He changes the words. He told me once the rhyme is about people, not monkeys.”

“Caleb tells Mallory a man knocks outside his window and he sits on the stairs. The man tells him to change the words.”

“Caleb also said Halloween was a reason he changed the words. But he also said the man told him to walk around the house carrying a rolled newspaper under his arm.”

Judith pursed her lips. “Let me guess. Jack did that.”

“The last time I saw him, he did,” said Ben.

“Describe the words Caleb changes,” she said.

“The words about the monkey hitting his head. The verbs. He uses strong verbs like ‘thump,' ‘conk.' I've overheard disturbing words about dead monkeys, too. And cursing.”

“Has he recited for you?” Judith asked Ben.

“Not yet. I've been living there these past couple days and that ghost or whatever weirdness they're dealing with has stayed away. No whispers, no knocking.”

I sunk into the sofa when he mentioned he'd been living with us.
Here it comes, the full lecture on morality, how our souls are damned unless we forsake our sins and repent
.

She asked instead, “You have a place in mind for the séance?”

I blew out a long breath. “The hedge at the park. We think that's where Jack was killed.”

“Sage here is my spirit companion. We search out supernatural activity together, and if someone died by that hedge, she will know. But a park is too public for conducting a séance.”

“Where do you suggest?” asked Ben.

“Diane's dining room. My mama's dining table is perfect. The ghost already resides on the property, which eliminates the risk it might choose to stay. In fact, once all is said and done and his warning is heeded and his justice obtained, Jack Harwood is likely to seek the light as he should.”

“We need to find a way to persuade the Fowlers to attend,” I said.

“Think, Mallory Anne. The season plays to your advantage. Invite them to a Halloween event. No need to mention a séance. Surprise that little liar and her husband.”

“We're all set except for coordinating the date with everyone,” said Ben.

“The sooner the better,” said Judith. “Your greatest obstacle will be the killer's willingness to confess. There is no opportunity in responding to a spirit's accusation.”

Ben passed the time before the séance with Caleb. They decorated the front porch by making it an entrance into a house of the dead. They besieged Mom's happy pumpkins with ghouls, ghosts, and hairy spiders. The father-and-son activity helped cement their bond.

I leaned back against the island in the kitchen watching my mother.

“Baking is unnecessary when we've planned an evening of confession, not festivity,” I said.

“The Fowlers expect a party.” She waggled a spatula at me. “Decorations and desserts strengthen the plan. Trick or treat! Ha!”

Nothing about the evening struck me as humorous. She ignored what happens when a killer is backed into a corner. I supposed humor calmed her nerves, blinded her to consequences of the endgame. Weighing the possibilities sickened me.

Ben and Caleb tramped into the kitchen through the side door. They homed in on the wire racks of cooling cookies set on the breakfast counter.

“Hands first!” I snatched up Caleb under his arms, his legs kicking at the air, and put him down on the countertop beside the apron front sink.

Ben kissed my cheek, leaving behind a few crumbs. “You're a bit testy.”

I looked down. “Your hands are as dirty as his.” I dusted the crumbs from my face.

He rolled his eyes and joined Caleb at the sink. When the front doorbell chimed, Caleb jumped down and dragged his dripping hands across his shirt as he scrambled out of the kitchen. Mom grabbed a towel and ran after him.

Ben held me and rested his head against mine. “We can cancel this circus,” he whispered in my ear.

“No. We've come too far.”

“Not if you're a wreck.”

“I'll be fine.”

“Nothing bad will happen.” He leaned over and grabbed a handful of cookies from the counter behind me. “If I were either Dana or Erik, I'd run.”

“Run where?” My eyes widened. “There's no place to hide once they've been found out. I know her, Ben. She will fight to save herself and silence any witness.”

The oven timer dinged and I removed the cookie sheet.

Ben guffawed. “Won't happen. They'll put on innocent faces and try to ignore the facts. By then, we'll know enough of the truth to share with the police.”

“She has Erik.”

“We have Sam, Rick, and Jack Grant. And don't forget Carl.”

“I took self-defense classes and I was fairly athletic.”

Ben laughed. “There you are, then. You don't need us.”

“You're too confident—I'm realistic.” I lifted the cookies one by one onto the wire rack. “Killing Jack was no easy feat.”

“Probably not.”

“It took a lot of nerve or she took him off-guard.”

“We take them off-guard. Piece-a cake.”

“Your ideas on getting them to admit they killed Harwood sound too easy, if you ask me.”

Ben hadn't thought things through. His relaxed stance and the gleam in his eyes expressed reckless bravery. A raging ghost was frightening enough. I expected worse from the Fowlers after experiencing the pain and aftereffects of Dana's poison and sedation. Yet he left the kitchen without trying to change my mind. Maybe my opinion did matter.

Caleb snuck back into the kitchen and climbed up on the center rattan stool. He kicked his foot against the panel while watching me wipe down the countertops.

“Quiet feet, buddy.”

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs. Rick and Carl walked into the kitchen, their conversation much like the one Ben and I'd just had.

Rick took the stool next to Caleb. “Got time to pour us some milk, Mal?”

“Please.”

Carl focused on his phone. He spoke to us as he stepped over to the breakfast bar. “Got a message here from one of the guys at the station. An auto parts store manager gave information on that SUV. His camera picked up the vehicle speeding past his store on its way of the parking lot. SUV belongs to a man in south Minneapolis.”

“That's good,” I said.

“No. Not good. The owner insists he parked his SUV outside his garage by the alley. He had a lot of people over for supper who will confirm he never left.”

“A dead end,” said Rick.

“Seems so.”

“Carl, ask your friend to see if the man's wife is Erik Fowler's sister.” I pushed glasses of milk toward my son and brother.

Carl looked puzzled.

“A hunch. The Fowlers went to Erik's sister's that same evening.”

“In south Minneapolis?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Dana helped herself to his keys.” Rick pulled a rack of cookies toward himself and Caleb.

I left them to finish their snacks and found Ronnie sitting on the sofa, her crutches rested against the end table. Mom sat across the room holding a book but gazed out the window. Ronnie readjusted her pillows and I sat down beside her.

“I want this night over and done with,” I said, “especially if Jack rears his head like he did last time.”

“Glad I missed it.”

“You won't this time. Ben thinks the Fowlers will leave.”

Ronnie's expression soured. “Or they'll ignore whatever Harwood's ghost says. Dana will focus on the lie. She'll claim it was all a huge mistake, she's sorry, and then she'll gush and give everybody hugs.”

“She'll never admit she killed anybody.”

“She won't have to. Her reaction will say enough.”

Mom stopped rocking. “I wonder where Judith is. It's getting late.”

“She'll be here, Mom.”

“We have two hours before the Fowlers show up,” said Ronnie.

Mom laid her book on the table. “I can't stand all this waiting around. I think I'll find Natalie and take Caleb to Pam's early.”

The kitchen door scraped open fifteen minutes later. There was a brisk clicking on the stone floor before Sage trotted into the living room, panting, with her nose dropped to the carpet. She sniffed and whimpered as she moved about the room until she reached the staircase.

Judith followed the dog. “No need to alarm Diane, Mallory. What my sister doesn't know won't hurt her.” Judith sauntered over and sat on her heels beside her dog. She snuggled close to the dog's head. “She knows a spirit is here. She's picked up its essence.”

I grabbed my jacket from the front closet. “How about checking outside?”

Rick was sitting on the white bench when Judith and I brought the dog into the backyard. He got up and walked over to where we stood at the bottom of the veranda steps.

“Let her go once. See what she does,” he said.

Judith unclipped the leash. Sage made a straight line to the white bench.

“What is she smelling?” I asked.

Judith rolled a shoulder. “A morsel of dropped food, a stray dog's urine. Death.” Judith walked over and circled the round patio with the dog.

The French doors opened and Ben stepped out onto the veranda. He leaned against the railing and watched a few moments before jogging down the stone steps to move his bike into the garage. As the garage door lowered, Jack Grant's sports car pulled up the driveway. They joined the rest of us watching the dog paw at the lopsided flagstone.

Judith stood perfectly still. She pointed downward with both forefingers. “This spot is significant.” She looked at me for answers. I had none.

“I want to see how she reacts at the hedge,” I said.

Rick stayed behind with Mom and the others while Judith, Sage, Ben, Grant, and I headed to the park. I no sooner pointed out the hedge when Sage bolted, dragging her leash. Grant chased after her.

“Let her run!” Judith called out. She glanced at Ben and me over her shoulder. “Other times she's taken off, I thought the spirit may have whistled.”

Sage sniffed the length of the hedge, crawled on her belly inside the hedge and out again. Ben and Grant made their own inspection and confirmed the rotting odor remained. Neither man nor dog discovered a carcass. The dog clawed the ground near the hedge as though unearthing a bone. She stopped digging after half a foot, more or less, lifted her head and sniffed the air.

“Any vibes, Mrs. Johnston?” Grant called out.

Judith stood several feet away from him, closer to the hedge than me. “Most definitely!” she called back. “Residual energy leftover from an act of violence!”

Judith strolled over to Grant and Ben, and I joined them. “If I were a betting woman, I'd wager a link to your friend's disappearance is buried beneath your patio.”

Ben rested his hand against his chin. “Mallory's dad thought a dog dug up the dirt. Maybe a killer buried a weapon.”

“Or dug a grave,” I said. “A body might explain why the stones lift.”

“Not because a corpse lies beneath,” said Judith. “The stones lift because the spirit comes and goes.”

I froze with phone in hand.

“Who were you calling?” she asked.

“Carl. To dig up the patio.”

Judith threw up her hands. “Wait! Let me conduct the séance before he goes digging for bodies. Tomorrow, the police can excavate the entire yard.”

G
rant hooked Sage's leash back onto her collar, and we made our way back to the house. Aunt Judith elaborated on the disruption we'd experienced when Harwood's spirit channeled through her before. She agreed with me that we might be in for a horrendous evening but added the séance needed to be done.

Caleb busied himself at the breakfast bar vigorously coloring monkey pictures. He never noticed all of us burst in from the side porch. I noticed he'd pushed aside his less-than-half-eaten supper plate and appeared oblivious to the people visiting in the living room, even if they were simply chatting away as though lazing on a Sunday afternoon.

Judith went into the dining room, where Mom had Rick put another leaf in the table.

She rested her arm on Mom's shoulder. “You've set up already.”