Миранда Джеймс - Fixing To Die

While she was drying her hands, she heard the sound of raised voices coming from next door in the French room. She paused to listen for a moment. She couldn’t distinguish the words but thought that both voices sounded male. She wondered who might be arguing with Nathan Gamble. Had Henry Howard come back early from his trip into town?

An’gel replaced the towel on the rack and moved to the door. She opened it a crack and listened. The voices next door had stopped. She opened the door farther and peered to the right, toward the French room. She wanted to avoid the quarreling men if at all possible.

The hall was clear. She was about to step out and shut the door when she heard the French room door open. She stepped back in and peered around the edge of the door frame.

The lawyer Wilbanks stumbled into the hall as if he had been pushed out the door. He was in the act of fastening his pants. He glared toward the door. He sounded hoarse when he yelled, “That’s the last time I let you . . .”

An’gel pushed the door shut at the vulgar verb. She had heard and seen enough to know what had been going on next door.

CHAPTER 13

An’gel hastily shut the door and listened to judge when it might be okay for her to leave her room and head back downstairs. She didn’t want to encounter the lawyer or Nathan Gamble at the moment.

She heard Wilbanks stomp by, cursing briefly. Then silence. Her face felt heated as she recalled Wilbanks’s parting shot to Nathan Gamble. She thought it had been pretty clear earlier that the lawyer had more than a lawyer-client relationship with Serenity Foster. The fact that he had obviously been having an intimate relationship with Serenity’s brother shocked her. She could be wrong, though. She might have misinterpreted what Wilbanks had meant by the use of a vulgar term.

On further reflection, she decided she was correct. Given the state of the lawyer’s clothing when he was ejected from the room, there was really only one conclusion.

She waited a minute, timed on her cell phone, before she opened the door again. A quick glance assured her that the hallway was empty, and she closed the door and hurried toward the stairs. She debated whether to share what she had seen with Mary Turner. Is the young woman aware of an intimate relationship between her cousin and the lawyer? she wondered.

A few delicate questions might resolve that issue. Once she could think of the right delicate questions to ask, of course. She would share with Dickce and Benjy, though. The incident might have no bearing at all on the strange incidents here at Cliffwood, but An’gel knew better than to rule anything out, no matter how far-fetched it might seem now.

When she walked into the front parlor, she found Benjy and Dickce sharing a sofa. Primrose Pace occupied the other, and from what An’gel heard as she entered, the medium was regaling the others with tales of her exploits with the spiritual world.

“The house was absolutely chock-full of restless spirits,” Mrs. Pace said. “I thought I’d never manage to deal with every single one of them. It took me two months, but by the time I was finished, the house was quiet and empty of spirits.”

“That’s amazing,” Benjy said. “How many ghosts were actually in the house?”

“Thirteen,” Mrs. Pace answered. “The house had been built partially on an old burial ground for plantation slaves. They were angry spirits, naturally, but I was able to help them find their way onto the next plane of existence.”

“I’m sure you felt great satisfaction, knowing that you’d helped all those tortured souls.” Dickce looked toward An’gel. “Have a seat, Sister. Benjy and I are absolutely enthralled by Mrs. Pace’s adventures.”

“Thank you, I will.” An’gel chose the armchair Mary Turner had occupied earlier. “Please continue, Mrs. Pace. Don’t mind my interruption.”

Mrs. Pace inclined her head to acknowledge An’gel’s remark. “Yes, I was happy to help the family. They were terrified and on the point of moving out, even though they couldn’t afford anywhere else to live. I was their last resort, or so they said. If only they had come to me sooner, they might have saved themselves two years of torment.” She shook her head.

“Where was this house?” Benjy asked. “I wonder if it’s in one of the books on haunted houses I was looking at.”

“I really can’t say,” Mrs. Pace responded. “I have to respect the family’s privacy, you understand.”

And protect yourself from anyone trying to check up on your bona fides , An’gel thought. Such a sensational story was bound to have been known about. Perhaps Benjy could do some research and see if he could come up with anything on it. That would be one way to check Mrs. Pace’s authenticity.

“That story reminds me so much of that really scary movie.” Dickce turned her head toward An’gel, away from Mrs. Pace, and winked. “What was the name of it, An’gel? You know, the one where that family lived in a house on top of a Native American burial ground, and their little girl began acting so strange.”

“ Poltergeist , is that the one you mean?” An’gel replied.

“Yes, that’s it,” Dickce said. “Have you ever seen that movie, Mrs. Pace?”

“When it first came out, but not since. I tend to avoid films like that because so many of them really aren’t accurate,” Mrs. Pace said. “Yes, there are similarities between the movie and the house I cleared of ghosts. Poltergeists, if you prefer.” She smiled briefly.

“Do you think that’s what we have here at Cliffwood?” An’gel asked. “A poltergeist?”

“It’s very likely,” Mrs. Pace replied, “although poltergeists most often tend to appear when there are children or teenagers present in the house. Perhaps because much of what the poltergeists are said to do usually turn out to be pranks played by the children involved.”

“There are no children here,” Dickce said.

“No, and the activity that Mrs. Catlin has observed isn’t the noisy kind that poltergeists are generally known for.”

“The word comes from German, doesn’t it?” An’gel said. “It translates roughly as rumbling spirit or noisy spirit , I believe.”

Mrs. Pace nodded approvingly. “Yes, Miss Ducote, that’s correct. The spirit or spirits here aren’t noisy. They move things around, but they don’t hurl things or behave maliciously.”

“That’s certainly a relief to me,” Dickce said. “The last thing I want is a noisy spirit throwing things at me.”

“I don’t want to mislead you,” Mrs. Pace said. “The behavior could escalate. That happens sometimes, so you have to be prepared in case it does.”

“What is your plan to deal with any spirits you find here at Cliffwood?” An’gel asked.

“Oh, there are definitely spirits here,” Mrs. Pace said. “The first step is to let them get used to my presence, you see. Only then will I be able to establish trust with them. Then I will show them the way on to the next plane of existence, and they can leave this world behind forever.”

The woman certainly sounded plausible, An’gel thought. Most of what Mrs. Pace had said jibed with what An’gel herself had read over the years, both in nonfiction and in fiction. There were common threads to it all, and Mrs. Pace obviously knew that.

An’gel wanted to ask the woman what she charged for her services, but since she wouldn’t be paying the bill, it wasn’t really any of her business. She hoped that Mary Turner and Henry Howard would be able to afford it, because she doubted that Mrs. Pace worked cheap.

Of course, if she and Dickce, with Benjy’s help, were able to expose the truth without the aid of Mrs. Pace, the woman would go away empty-handed. An’gel wasn’t going to underestimate her. She figured Mrs. Pace was shrewd enough to realize that An’gel and Dickce weren’t necessarily her allies in this situation. What Mrs. Pace had shared with them so far was nothing really concrete, at least in terms of Cliffwood’s so-called ghosts. It was the standard line for these situations. An’gel intended to keep an eye on Mrs. Pace, and no doubt Mrs. Pace intended to do the same with her.