Twisted (23 page)

Jennifer waited until everyone was busy, and then she motioned to Tim. “Let's go find Brian. I want to compliment him on those special effects!”

Brian was in the kitchen and Jennifer hurried over to pat him on the back. “That was wonderful, Brian. The way the table moved was fantastic!”

“I still can't figure out how you did those candles.” Tim reached out to shake Brian's hand. “Snuffing them out like that was really great!”

“And the voice from the loudspeakers. It really sounded like Kelly. But . . . I really wish you'd told us exactly what you were going to do. I almost jumped out of my skin when things started to happen.”

“Yeah. Me, too.” Brian looked completely freaked.

“You?” Jennifer started to frown. “But . . . why?”

“Because I didn't rig any of those things!”

Tim looked shocked for a moment, but then he started to laugh. “Come on, Brian. We're the only ones here. You can admit you're a special effects genius.”

“That's true,” Brian admitted. “But somebody else is even better. I'm telling you the truth, guys. I didn't do it.”

“You didn't do anything?” Tim was skeptical.

“Not me. I thought you guys hired a pro to rig those things. And I was really mad that you didn't let me in on it.”

“Wait a minute.” Tim began to frown. “If you didn't do it, and we didn't hire anyone else, then who was in charge of the special effects?”

The question hung in midair, unanswered. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Jennifer shivered. She wasn't about to say it, but she was beginning to wonder if it was Kelly.

H
e sipped his hot chocolate and stared into the flames of the massive, river rock fireplace. They'd critiqued everyone's performance and now they were all sitting around, just talking. Even though it was past eleven, no one seemed eager to leave the group to go upstairs. Perhaps they were all too rattled by the things that had happened at the séance.

Someone had just asked Jennifer how they'd managed to snuff out the candles, and she had shrugged. “I don't know. All I can tell you is, we didn't do it. And I don't know who did.”

“Do you think it was Kelly?” He asked the question that was on everyone's mind.

Jennifer looked perplexed as she answered. “Maybe it was. I'm just not sure.”

He managed to hide his grin, but he was impressed. Jennifer was still in character and she deserved an Academy Award for her performance tonight. She'd seemed genuinely shocked when the table had moved, and she'd actually jumped when Kelly had spoken. He'd seen her face when the candles had begun to extinguish themselves, and she'd looked every bit as spooked as the rest of them. She was acting as if she'd actually contacted Kelly's spirit.

Of course, that was impossible. He was sure of that. Some of the best minds of the century had tried to contact the spirits of the dead, and all of them had failed. Arthur Conan Doyle had spent years trying to prove that the spirit world existed, and he had failed. And if the great Harry Houdini had been unable to send a simple code to his wife from the other side, it was ridiculous to think that an amateur like Jennifer could actually talk to Kelly's spirit.

The séance was definitely a fake, but he knew he still had to be very careful. There was always the possibility that Kelly had talked to someone before she'd died. The séance could provide a way for that person to reveal Kelly's secret without exposing his or her identity. And he couldn't let that happen.

The grandfather clock began to chime midnight, and Melanie stood up. “I don't know about the rest of you, but I have to go to bed.”

“Alone?” Immediately after Susie had asked the question, everyone burst into laughter. She blushed as she tried to explain. “I didn't mean it that way. I just meant . . . after everything that's happened tonight, I wouldn't go upstairs by myself!”

Melanie grinned good-naturedly. “It doesn't bother me. Kelly was a friend of mine. If she wants to haunt me, that's fine.”

Jennifer watched as Melanie gave a jaunty little wave and headed for the stairs. Perhaps Melanie had the right attitude. Kelly had been their friend in life. There was no reason to think that would change, now that she was dead.

“She's right, you know.” Jennifer turned to Tim. “If Kelly's spirit is here, she'd have no reason to hurt us.”

Lexie nodded. “That's true. But I don't want to be alone and I'm willing to bet that no one else does, either.”

“How about a little music?” Ronnie reached for his guitar. “I'm working on some old Beatles songs for my aunt and uncle's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. You guys can sing along.”

They were just starting the second chorus of “Here Comes The Sun” when Melanie burst through the doorway. She was wrapped in a robe and her hair was wet and dripping. Her face was the color of chalk, her eyes were wide and unfocused, and she was shaking so hard she could barely stand up.

Melanie leaned against the doorjamb, gasping. “I didn't believe it, but now I've got proof! Kelly is definitely here!”

 

The girls wrapped Melanie in a blanket and gave her a seat directly in front of the fire. They all took turns reassuring her, but it was still almost ten minutes before Melanie was calm enough to tell them what had happened.

“I went up to my room and I took a shower. I was just toweling off my hair when I noticed that there was something on my pillow. It was this pin.” Melanie held it up so they could see the beautiful gold butterfly pin. “It was fastened to a note.”

“Let me see.” Tommy took the pin from Melanie's hand and his face turned pale. “This was Kelly's pin! How did you get it?”

“. . . I don't know. I told you. It was just there, on my pillow. . . . I thought it was a present from one of you until I read the note.”

“Let's see the note.” Tim took it and unfolded the piece of paper. “It's written on Saddlepeak Lodge stationery. And it looks like Kelly's handwriting to me. It says,
My death wasn't an accident. It was murder. You were my friend. I'll tell you about it very soon
.”

“No way!” Cheryl was laughing as she turned to Jennifer. “You guys put that stuff on Melanie's pillow. It's part of your skit, isn't it, Jen?”

“No, it's not. And I haven't been upstairs at all tonight. I couldn't have put it there.”

“Then Tim did.” Cheryl turned to him.

Tim looked very serious as he shook his head. “Honestly, Cheryl . . . it wasn't me.”

“Let me see that note.” Lexie took the paper and examined it. “It really does look like Kelly's writing. But who put it in Melanie's room?”

Tommy looked very freaked as he answered the question. “Uh . . . I really hate to say this, but I think Kelly did.”

“You're kidding, right?” Cheryl looked astonished. “I mean . . . think about it, Tommy. Do you really believe that Kelly came back from the dead to put a note on Melanie's pillow?”

“Yes, I do. I know it sounds crazy, but the pin convinced me. I gave it to Kelly for Christmas last year. And her mother—uh . . .”

“What?” Tim looked worried as his brother's voice trailed off. It was clear that Tommy was totally freaked. “What is it, Tommy?”

“Kelly's mother knew how much she loved that pin, so she decided to bury it with Kelly.”

There was a stunned silence that seemed to go on and on, but finally Jennifer broke it. “Maybe Kelly's mother changed her mind. She might have decided to keep the pin, or give it to someone else.”

“No way.” Tommy looked grim as he shook his head. “I was right there when Kelly's mother placed that pin in her casket.”

 

They stayed up until almost one in the morning, but finally everyone decided to get some sleep. When the group was breaking up, Pete called Jennifer and Tim over to the side. “Good work, guys. The extra bit you did with the note and the pin was great! When did you plant it?”

“We didn't.” Jennifer shook her head. “I know everyone thinks it was part of the séance, but we didn't have anything to do with it.”

Pete was still grinning as he turned to Tim. “Is that right, Tim?”

“Jennifer's telling the truth. We really don't know how that pin and note got on Melanie's pillow.”

“Excellent!” Pete was so pleased, he laughed out loud. “You guys just never break character, do you? I can hardly wait to see what else you've got dreamed up for tomorrow.”

Jennifer was frowning as she headed for the stairs with Tim. The rotating table, the candles that extinguished themselves, Kelly's voice, the pin and note on Melanie's pillow. They hadn't done any of that! And there didn't seem to be anything they could say or do to convince Pete.

When they stopped at Jennifer's door, Tim put his arms around her. “Pete doesn't believe us.”

“I know. What are we going to do, Tim?”

Tim reached out to touch her hair. “I don't think there's anything we can do. Our séance is out of control. Pete thinks we're running the show, but we're not. Someone else is. Do you think it's Kelly?”

“I don't know.” Jennifer shook her head. “I'm only sure of one thing. We started something at the séance tonight. And now I just wish we could stop it!”

 

Melanie was tired, but she couldn't seem to get up the nerve to go to bed. She could still see the mark on her pillow where the pin had been thrust, and it made her feel creepy inside. She really wished that Kelly had picked someone else to contact.

This wasn't part of Jennifer and Tim's skit. Melanie was sure of that. They'd looked just as shocked as everyone else when they'd seen the pin and the note. Kelly's spirit had come back from the grave to tell Melanie her secret.

Melanie's hands were shaking as she slipped on jeans and a sweatshirt. For all she knew the person who'd murdered Kelly might be right here at the haunted lodge. If Kelly told her who it was, she could be in terrible danger. The killer could decide to murder her before she had the chance to tell the rest of the group.

There was no way she was going to sit here and wait for the killer to appear. Melanie jumped up and headed for the door. She'd go downstairs and arm herself with the fireplace poker, and she'd stay awake until everyone else got up in the morning. If the killer came to her room, he wouldn't find her sitting here trembling like a frightened rabbit. She'd be downstairs, ready to sound the alarm if she heard anything unusual.

It was very quiet as Melanie grabbed her favorite snakeskin boots and slipped out of her room. She locked the door behind her and stayed close to the wall as she went down the stairs in the darkness. Everyone else was sleeping by now, everyone except the killer, and her. She wasn't frightened now that she had a plan. Everything would work out just fine.

The lobby was deserted, just as she had thought it would be. Melanie hurried to the fireplace, picked up the poker, and gave a sigh of relief. The poker was exactly the right weight. One swing and the killer would crumple. It was a perfect weapon for Melanie since she'd been the best hitter on the girls' softball team, two years in a row.

Melanie sat down on the couch, tucked her feet up under her, and listened to the sounds of the night. The lodge was old and it creaked in the wind. The rain was still falling, splattering against the windowpane, and the sound made Melanie glad that she was inside by a warm fire.

The fire was mesmerizing and Melanie's eyelids began to droop. The crackle of the logs and the hiss of the flames was very soothing. The leather couch was soft and it cushioned her body perfectly, cradling her like a baby in its mother's arms.

Rain outside, warmth inside, and soft, soft pillows. Melanie smiled a sleepy smile and stretched out, nestling her head against her arm. She'd just close her eyes for a moment to rest them. A minute or two would do her a world of good. If she took a quick little nap, she'd wake up refreshed and ready to stay alert for the remainder of the night.

A soft sigh escaped Melanie's lips as she slipped deeper and deeper into sleep. She didn't hear the stealthy footsteps as they approached her, and she didn't see the smile that spread across his face. She didn't even hear his satisfied chuckle as he opened the front door of the lodge and stepped out into the night.

 

Of course, he had to kill her. He'd known that the moment she'd appeared with the note. He didn't believe that Kelly had written it from the grave. There was another explanation, one that made much more sense.

Melanie's parents lived next door to Kelly's mother, and the two girls had been good friends. Kelly must have told Melanie her secret and now Melanie was about to reveal it. Since she was an actress, she'd decided to do it in the most dramatic way possible.

The butterfly pin had thrown him at first. It had almost made him believe in Kelly's ghost. But then he'd remembered that Melanie worked part-time at Hampton's jewelry store. It would have been simple for Melanie to buy another pin, just like the one that Kelly had loved, to make her story more believable.

Of course, Melanie couldn't actually prove that he'd killed Kelly. She was only guessing about the murder, trying to freak him out so much that he'd confess. That was why he had to eliminate her, before she could get any more fake messages from the “other side.”

It didn't take long to get ready. All he needed was a heavy shovel and a pair of work gloves from the shed at the back of the lodge. He'd make it look like an accident. That way the rest of the group wouldn't get suspicious. He walked around to the front of the lodge, by the lobby window, and knelt down in the bushes. And then he made the sound that would bring Melanie outside in the rain.

 

At first she thought she was dreaming, but then she heard it again. It was a tiny, whimpering sound that she recognized immediately. There was a puppy outside the window, a poor little puppy in the cold and the rain. There was no way Melanie could stay inside by the warmth of the fire and ignore the puppy's pitiful cries.

“Hold on, baby. I'm coming.” Melanie got up, pulled on her boots, and headed for the door. Puppies were her very favorite animals and this poor little thing would get soaked in the rain. Young puppies were very vulnerable and this one sounded weak and sick. Puppies could catch colds and die if they were exposed to the elements and she had to do something to help. She'd find him and bring him inside. Then she'd wrap him in a towel and heat some milk for him to drink. If she kept him warm, she could save his life.

Melanie shivered as she pushed open the door. The rain was coming down steadily and it had turned very cold. No wonder the poor little thing was crying! Who wouldn't cry if they had to stay outside on a night like this?

“Where are you, baby? Come on, boy.” Melanie listened and she heard another cry. The puppy sounded young and very scared. The cries were coming from the area by the side of the lodge and Melanie hurried down the path to find him.

“Come on, puppy. Come to Melanie.” She rounded the corner and stopped to listen again. For a moment everything was silent, but then she heard a small cry that seemed to come from the woodpile that was stacked against the wall. The puppy must have crawled under the logs to try to keep dry. He could even be stuck under there.

Melanie bent over to look, but all she saw were logs. She got down on her knees and whistled softly. “Here, boy . . . come out here so I can see you. I won't hurt you, I promise.”