The Devil's Beating His Wife (14 page)

I pulled back my leg and kicked him in the ribs. His mouth dropped open before his hand covered the spot and he fell back. I leaned towards him and stuck my face into his. "I did not kill myself. Don't you dare say such a thing."

He scrambled to his feet. Putting distance between us, he walked backwards across the rotted wood floor. "Spicy, don't you go puttin' no murder on me. I did not kill you."

"It was your gun. You brought me here. I wouldn't have died, if not for you. You killed me."

"I brought you here for your own protection." There was a broken lamp on the floor. I grabbed it and hurled it in his direction.

That got the dog snarling again. Then footsteps sounded as someone came walking into the house.

I yelled in rage. "You brought me to this hellhole?"

Baxter stalked across the room and stopped an inch away from me. "I brought you here to keep you safe, you ungrateful witch."

"Oh, fine job you did with that." I waved my hands in the air. "I'm dead! We're both dead!"

"Did you hear that?" asked a deep male voice.

Baxter and I whipped around to stare at Ronald, the son of Charles Vincent. Our mouths must have hung open as we stared at him. He glanced around the room. A look of disgust fluttered over his features before all expression was wiped from his face. His dark brown eyes pinned us in the corner.

A woman approached Ronnie. She stopped in the doorway and looked down at the floor. "You have to be shitting me. You expect us to live in this?" she asked Ronnie.

"Did you hear that?" Ronnie repeated.

"Hear what?"

He pulled his eyes away from us. "There was a sound in here. Like something was shattering. Are you telling me you didn't hear it?"

I glanced back at Baxter.

He mouthed at me, "He doesn't see us."

That shouldn't have shocked me, but it did. For a few brief moments, I had actually forgotten we were dead. I mean, we was arguing over who killed me, but the thought of being dead had left my mind.

"If he don't see us, then he don't hear us," I said aloud. Baxter glanced at the couple as if expecting their immediate reaction.

Ronald left the woman's side and walked to our little corner. He stepped to where we were and stared up and down the wall. Then he pulled his pants legs up as he knelt down and picked up the broken pieces of the lamp.

He held the base in his hands. He looked to the right and then to the left. Suddenly he bounced back up and turned to the woman. He lifted the broken lamp towards her and said, "I think it was this."

Baxter stared at me, peering over Ronald's auburn hair.

The woman's brow wrinkled. She stared down at Ronnie's hands before peeking through her lashes at his face. "You think that lamp shattered?"

Ronald nodded his head. "Yeah."

"How would it have done that? Wouldn't it have to have fallen off of something?" She turned around in a slow circle. "But there isn't anything it could have fallen from. Not over here."

Ronald's thumb flicked over the sharp, broken edges. He had grown silent as he stared down at the lamp. "You calling me crazy?" he asked quietly.

The air suddenly shifted. The woman stiffened and dropped her gaze to the ground. "No, I don't. I just don't unders—"

With swift cruelty, Ronald grabbed the woman's upper arm and hauled her closer. His nostrils flared as his eyes narrowed on her face.

"Like father, like son," Baxter muttered as he moved to stand at Ronald's back. He raised his hands towards Ronnie's shirt as if he intended to grab it. But his fingers grabbed nothing but air. His arm went through Ronnie and the woman's body.

Ronnie shuddered.

The woman cringed.

I could see Ronald's fingertips grow white as he tightened his grip. The woman's mouth fell open in a stifled gasp.

"You think I'm too stupid to realize that there was nothing it could have fallen from?" he whispered.

"Baby, no, that's not what I meant. Maybe it rolled against the wall and shattered," she said.

Ronald tightened his grip even further. She pulled away from him as if expecting some burst of violence.

I just stood there, staring at them, surprised at the quick change in Ronnie's mood. Baxter swallowed deeply, causing his Adam's apple to bounce under his pale skin. Most folks claimed to be afraid of ghosts but there we stood, afraid of the living folk. Especially this man.

The sound of a squeal brought all of our attention to the child outside. The dog was barking. I wasn't sure if it had been barking this whole time or not.

Slowly, Ronnie's fingers loosened. The woman pulled away gently, trying not to trigger another reaction. He dropped his hand just as the little girl entered the room.

Her dark brown eyes focused on Ronnie and the woman. "Mommy, what's wrong?"

Ronald nudged his chin in the woman's direction. "Mommy broke the family rule. Abby, what's the family rule, since your mommy seems to have forgotten?"

"Mommy should always behave or mommy will be punished," the little girl said mechanically. The girl, Abby, shared features with both parents. She had the same dark brown eyes as her father. Her ash blond hair, she'd inherited from her mother. She stood there, frozen in her spot. Her tiny pink mouth was slightly open as her gaze darted between her mother and father. Briefly, her eyes seemed to lock on Baxter, but then she dropped her gaze and looked away.

The mother was uncomfortable. The child was uncomfortable. The two ghosts in the room were uncomfortable. Ronnie seethed quietly.

Everyone was still, as if waiting for Ronnie's next move. Baxter, the war hero, stood in the corner, helpless to intervene. The girl and her mother stood quietly as they waited for the tension to leave the room.

Just as quickly as Ronnie's temper flared, it evaporated into a charming smile. What was it with deadly white men and charming smiles? Even though I hated his guts, I plainly recalled that Baxter, the murderous bastard, had a real charming smile.

I guess I should have looked on the bright side. Ronald hadn't inherited his father's buck-toothed smile.

Ronald with his charming smile and auburn hair walked to the child and placed his hands on her shoulders. The child sucked in her breath and held it. She said nothing, but her eyes widened.

"C'mon, let's head back to town," Ronald said. "We've got a lot of work in store with this place."

In a small voice, the child said, "Daddy, are we really going to live here?"

Ronald curled his hands beneath the girl's underarms and picked her up. A faint dimple hovered near his mouth as his dark eyes twinkled. "We sure are, darling. Your Uncle Jimmy and I will be putting a lot of blood and sweat into this place. But I didn't expect much for a place that cost only $3,000."

"Thank God for small favors," said the woman softly. She stood away from her husband and daughter. Her shoulders were still tense. She still had a wary look on her face.

Ronald grinned with approval. "It was pure luck."

"Who in their right mind would pay $3,000 for this shit-hole?" asked Baxter. "This place is worth a couple hundred bucks at most." He shuddered and curled his mouth with distaste. Then his eyes widened with disbelief. "I could have been a rich man."

"Is it true about the ghosts, Daddy?" asked the little girl as she stared at Ronnie's face.

Ronald tapped her nose and laughed. "There's no such thing."

That caused my mouth to drop. "Ronald's lyin' to that poor child."

The woman brushed her hands across the back of her blue trousers. She glanced down and lightly placed her foot on an exposed floor beam. Pushing down gently on the rotten wood, the woman grimaced when it crumbled under her slight touch. She stepped around the spot and walked into the kitchen.

I snuck up behind her and watched as she pretended that the little episode in the other room hadn't happened. She acted like she was examining everything in the kitchen. She tried to keep her face blank and her emotions under control.

She grabbed at one of the drawers and pulled it open. The damn knob came off in her hand. She lifted the knob to her face and examined it. Closing her eyes tightly, she placed both hands on the countertop and lowered her head.

Tiptoeing for no reason, I walked over to her side and stared into her face. If I'd still breathed, she would have felt my breath on her cheek. I was that close. I could see the corner of her eye twitching. I could hear the hitches in her breathing. She hid it all very well. But I suspect she had plenty of experience hiding her true feelings.

As I watched her closely, I noticed her shoulders hunch up as if she anticipated being struck. Her reaction seemed understandable to me at that moment. Ronnie had quietly appeared in the kitchen. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought he was the ghost.

"See? This place has good bones," Ronnie said, knocking on a door panel. His eyes drilled into the back of the woman's head. He didn't seem to care that she had tensed, ready to run. "We got a real good deal. A real good deal."

Her eyelids lowered. "Is it true?"

Ronnie's eyes flickered in my direction. He didn't see me. At least, I sure hoped he didn't.

"Are we back to that again?"

The blond-haired woman spun around. "Well? Is it true?"

"Y'all don't see me, right?" I asked them.

"Lily." He sighed heavily and then shoved his blunt fingers through his wavy, rust-colored hair. "Yeah, it's true. Two people died here, but that happened a long time ago, back when my daddy was young."

"We should go back to Aunt Dina's place. She won't min—"

Ronnie slashed his hand through the air, cutting the woman's words off. "There ain't no way in hell that we're going to crawl back to your aunt and beg her to let us stay with her."

The woman, Lily, placed her hand gently on Ronnie's shoulder. "We wouldn't have to beg. Aunt Dina was just concerned about you finding a good job, that's all."

"I can take care of my family," he said through clenched teeth. He tossed aside the woman's hand and turned to face her. She slunk away, putting a few feet between them. Ronnie inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. Speaking slowly and with strained patience, he said, "Look. I'll never be able to provide for you the way your family did, but I will make sure we have food on the table and a roof over our heads."

I glanced up to the sky. Yeah, the sky. There wasn't no roof above their heads in that particular spot.

"Baby girl, we just need some time to stabilize, that's all. Just be patient and we'll have a good life here. I promise," Ronald said as he took the woman's hand into his. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed her palm. There was a distinctive twinkle in his eye. "Soon, I'll find a real good job. I'll be buying you a pretty red dress—" He lifted his fingers to the corner of her lips. "To match those pretty red lips. I'm going to take care of you. Real good care of the both of you."

The woman relaxed under his soft touch. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. "I believe you, sweetheart," she whispered contentedly.

I reached out to snatch her away from him, but my hand simply went through their bodies. She shivered delicately but didn't move away from him. Ronnie rubbed her back and kissed her pale brow.

"I can't believe you believed him," I told the woman.

She, of course, didn't hear me. She didn't even know I was standing there, listening to this man feed her a shovelful of horse shit. I thought being trapped in this place with the man that killed me was the worst kind of hell. I knew now that it wasn't.

CHAPTER EIGHT

June 28, 1970, Laurens County

"Where were the bodies?" asked the giant.

Ronnie laughed, causing the gulp of beer to go down the wrong pipe. The sound that came from his throat was a mix of laughter and coughing. He wiped his wet mouth with the inside of his elbow. He paused dramatically before he pointed to the freshly-installed flooring where the hideous old couch used to be.

"That's where they were," Ronnie said. "The woman's head had fallen forward into the man's lap, so when people came upon their bodies, it looked like she was giving him head."

Baxter and I stood in the same spot where our bodies had been found. He snorted at Ronnie's comment. I punched him on the shoulder.

Ronnie waved his hand towards the wall behind us. "Daddy said the wall was painted red with the man's brains. It's a blessing they ain't still stained."

"Man, I'd seriously freak out living in this place," said the giant. He looked like the auburn-haired man, except his hair was more red than brown. He had the same dark eyes and charming smile. Out of the three men and two ghosts in the room, he was the chattiest. "You couldn't pay me to live here."

Ronnie smirked. "Don't sweat it. People die in houses all of the time."

"People die of natural causes, not murder-suicides," said the giant.

The third and quietest man perched on a ladder. He simply shrugged and continued to paint the wall a pea-green shade. I wasn't particularly pleased with their color choices, although any color was better than the peeling walls that I had lived with all of these years. But the color reminded me of baby shit, and I wasn't particularly interested in spending any of my eternity living in a baby's nappy.

"What's the skinny on the couple? Did she fucking burn his dinner or what?" asked the giant.

Hearing the mockery in his voice did something to me. They were, of course, talking about my death. With no respect at all. I wanted to smack them all, but I knew that I couldn't. In frustration, I slapped at the air and made a connection with the bucket of paint. It slid off the corner of the bureau and splattered onto the floor.

The giant hopped in surprise and whipped around to stare at the can. He laughed awkwardly and turned to the painting man. "How did that happen? What you up to, Jimmy?"

Ronnie walked to the paint can and knelt down to pick it up.