The Saucy Lucy Murders (20 page)

Lexie’s anger melted into a puddle of guilt and she was instantly sorry for her aunt. The poor old lady— what a sad life she’d led—despite all of her fame on the Las Vegas strip. “Can’t you and Winkie play parlor games another day?” Lexie asked Aunt Gladys in a more sympathetic voice. “It’s awfully late.”

Aunt Gladys sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with a lacy handkerchief. “No, actually late at night in the dark is when the spirits—”

“Aunt Gladys, you’ve got to stop this,” Lexie warned. “You need your sleep.”

“No, hear me out. This is when you get them to really talk. In fact, you should hear what Mortie has to say. Maybe Lexie should play, too?” Aunt Gladys looked up at Winkie.

Winkie smiled and clapped his chubby hands together. “Splendid idea. But she has to
believe.”

“Believe what?”

“That the spirits are real. That they are communicating with us.”

“I don’t care if you think you talked with Houdini. I think we all need to call it a night.”

“Just play with us for a little bit,” Aunt Gladys pleaded. “At least to humor an old lady. Remember what Shakespeare said?”

“No, I do not remember what Shakespeare said. I hated reading Shakespeare.”

“I don’t remember it exactly. But here goes.” Aunt Gladys squeezed her eyes shut. “It was something about, ‘There is more to heaven and earth,
Horatio, than you and I have dreamed possible …’”

“Whatever,” Lexie said. “Horatio obviously didn’t have to get up in the morning to clean house and do laundry like me.”

“Just play it with us for a little while. If the spirits will even talk to us with you in the room, that is. Then I promise Winkie and I will blow out the candles and call it a night. Right?” Aunt Gladys glanced up at Winkie.

“Absolutely.”

Lexie sighed deeply. “Fine. If it’ll get you two off my back. But not for too long. OK?”

“Certainly, dear,” Aunt Gladys agreed.

Aunt Gladys flipped over the plastic thingie-majig on the Ouija board and positioned it just so. “You have to place your fingertips on the planchette,” she told Lexie.

She watched as Aunt Gladys and Winkie delicately touched the plastic what-cha-ma-call-it that she now knew was called a planchette. She did as they did, just trying to get the nonsense over with so she could go back to bed. Though she seriously doubted she would be able to get any sleep.

Aunt Gladys took several deep breaths. Then she said, “We ask only to speak with those spirits from the light. Those who have no intention to do us harm or cause evil to come upon us.”

Lexie rolled her eyes, then an eerie chill brushed her cheeks as a gentle breeze came through the open window, rippling the long lace-curtain panels.

“Mortie,” Aunt Gladys said in a soft, questioning voice. “Are you there?”

All was quiet in the room for a few moments, except for the sound of the rustling breeze and Muffin’s little doggie breaths. Then the planchette thingie-ma-bob began to move under Lexie’s fingertips. Ever so slightly. It slid up to the word
NO
printed at the top of the board.

“Come on. You guys are pushing this thing,” Lexie whispered harshly.

“We are not,” Aunt Gladys protested in a low voice, her eyes snapping in the dim light. “This is real. Try to be a little open-minded, Leslie. You never know what you may learn.”

Winkie cleared his throat. “Are you a good spirit or a bad spirit?”

The thingie-ma-bob slowly spelled out
G-O-O-D.

“Have you come to do us harm?” Winkie asked.

N-O,
the thingie-ma-bob said.

Lexie started to hiccough and Aunt Gladys glared at her. “Hold your breath, Leslie. You’ll scare them.”

Lexie tried, but the hiccoughs continued to shake her frame.

“What is your name?” Aunt Gladys asked the spirit.

M-I-N-K,
the planchette spelled out.

“Did you live in this town at one time?” Aunt Gladys asked.

The planchette pointed to the word
YES
printed at the top of the board.

“Do you know what is going on in Moose Creek
Junction?” Aunt Gladys asked. “Why people are being murdered?”

YES.

“Can you tell us who is doing it?” Winkie coaxed. “Can you give us a name?”

The planchette spelled,
E-V-I-L; J-E-A-L-O-U-S-Y; H-A-T-R-E-D.

Lexie started to shiver.

STOP SHIVERING, LEXIE,
the planchette spelled out.

Aunt Gladys and Winkie gave her annoyed looks. Lexie only shivered harder. How did the Ouija board know she was scared and shivering? Honestly, this thing was weird. Meanwhile, hiccoughs continued to rack her frame.

“Mink,” Aunt Gladys said. “Can you give us the name of the murderer?”

C and D, the planchette spelled out

“Does this person live in town?” Winkie asked.

YES.

“Are they nearby at this very moment?”

YES.

“OK,” Lexie said between hiccoughs, removing her fingers from the planchette. “I’ve had enough. It’s time,”
hiccough,
“to put this thing away.”

“What can we do to stop the murders?” Aunt Gladys asked the board, ignoring Lexie.

C-A-N-T,
it spelled out.
G-A-B-E D-O-E-S N-O-T K-N-O-W. D-A-N-G-E-R, D-A-N-G-E-R, D-A-N-G-E-R!

L
EXIE’S HEART FROZE IN THE MIDDLE OF HER
chest.

“Enough.” She reached out and flipped over the thingie-ma-bob on the board.

“You do believe us now, don’t you, Leslie?” Aunt Gladys’ eyes went wide. “I tell you the Ouija is
real.”

“It’s late.” Lexie stood. “Time for everyone to call it a night.”

“Aren’t you even curious about what happened? Especially after what the spirits just told us?”

Lexie rolled her eyes in frustration. First the gypsy woman’s warnings, and now the Ouija board. It was getting ridiculous. Although after everything that had happened, she did wonder about the mumbo jumbo. Was someone really out to get her? Who?

She pressed her lips into a firm line. Despite her questions, she couldn’t let Aunt Gladys know her thoughts. Someone in this family had to maintain
their sanity.

Aunt Gladys reached across the table with her arthritic fingers and gripped Lexie’s hand. “You heard the Ouija. We’re all in danger. What shall we do?”

“Keep the doors locked,” Lexie said. “And get a good night’s sleep. I think we’re getting ourselves creeped out for no reason.”

Aunt Gladys pouted. “But we were just getting to the good part.”

“Sorry.”

“Old people don’t need so much sleep,” Aunt Gladys insisted. “It’s a proven fact.”

“Well, this old person does.” Lexie yawned and raised a brow at Winkie.

Winkie cleared his throat. “Uh, right. We’ll get together again soon, dear,” he said to Aunt Gladys, patting her hand. “Old Muffie needs his doggie sleep, you know.” Winkie pushed his stool back into a corner and scooped the little Yorkie off his pillow.

Once they’d gone downstairs, Winkie rescued his trench coat from the hall tree and put it on, then wrapped a lavender cashmere scarf around his neck. “Some of my friends at the Sunrise Center are getting together for a bridge game tomorrow after lunch. Why don’t you come, dear? Meet the gang, and all.”

Aunt Gladys scowled. “Really, Winkie. Me? Play bridge? Not likely.”

“It’ll be such fun. Give you something to do, you know.” Winkie gave Aunt Gladys a pleading look.

It would get her out of my hair,
Lexie thought unkindly.
Then she mentally scolded herself. Just because Aunt Gladys was a handful didn’t mean she should be so cruel. Someday, she could be in the same position. Hopefully, not, though. And hopefully, she wouldn’t be such a nuisance to everyone when she got to be seventy-something.

“Oh, hell’s bells. What else have I got to do? Leslie will take me. Won’t you, kiddo?” Aunt Gladys turned to stare at her niece.

“If that’s what you’d like,” Lexie said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice so Aunt Gladys wouldn’t be insulted.

“It’s all settled then,” Aunt Gladys told Winkie. “I’ll be by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Too-da-loo!” Aunt Gladys called to Winkie as he left. “Good night,” she told Lexie, then climbed the stairs.

“Make sure to get those candles in your room blown out,” Lexie told her. “I’ll be up in a minute to check on you.”

Aunt Gladys turned another pout on her. “You don’t need to come up, Leslie. Do you think I’m incapable of doing even a simple task like that?”

Lexie shook her head. “No, just forgetful.”

“Hmmph,” Aunt Gladys said, and disappeared up the stairs.

Lexie went into the kitchen and brewed herself a cup of tea, hoping it would calm her frazzled nerves. At this late hour, the house seemed to creak louder than usual and shadows in corners seemed
menacing.

Damn Aunt Gladys and her ridiculous Ouija board. The whole incident had gotten her spooked enough she probably wouldn’t get a wink of shut-eye. But she couldn’t sit up all night jumping at noises and staring at shadowy corners in the kitchen. She had to try and get some rest, even with all the strange events.

Wearily, Lexie climbed the stairs to the attic. It was extremely dark except for the nightlight plugged into the hallway outlet. Fighting off her unease and the sense that someone was watching her, Lexie peeked into Aunt Gladys’s room. All the lights were out except for a small bedside lamp and, thankfully, all the candles were extinguished. A faint aroma of cinnamon-scented wax and smoke tickled Lexie’s nostrils.

Satisifed her aunt was safely asleep for the night, Lexie went back to her room and sank onto her bed. She squeezed her eyes shut and in her mind’s eye saw Henry’s bloody corpse on the floor of his house. She fought off that image, then saw Elton lying broken and bleeding in the middle of the street.

What was happpening? And why was it happening to her? Was it coincidence? Lexie had too many unanswered questions hammering in her head. And her temples were beginning to throb.

She huddled under the covers and tried to force herself to sleep. It didn’t work. She rolled on one side, then the other, then onto her back. Feeling too
warm, she kicked off her blankets, only to have the chill of the night urge her to bury herself again.

Finally, sleep came. But it wasn’t an easy sleep. Once again, phantoms with butcher knives chased her. Frantic, she managed to fight them off. Then a car tried to run her down. She ran blindly into a heavy mist, trying to escape. But her legs became heavy, as though they’d been saturated with glue.

Stuck to one spot, she watched the car coming, coming—approaching her like a nightstalking beast. It looked like the dark sedan that had slammed into her at the light the night Whitehead died. She tried hard to see inside the vehicle, see who was driving.

But all she could make out were flashing eyes in a sea of blackness. They were staring death at her. She screamed, yet no sound came out of her mouth. Nevertheless, the silence around her spoke to a deep part of her soul, telling her something she didn’t want to know.

Someone wanted her to die.

Lexie bolted straight up in bed to a room filled with bright sunlight. “What time is it?” She whirled to see the cow-shaped alarm clock with the black-andwhite Holstein paint scheme Eva had given her when she was in the fourth grade.

Good Lord, it was 10 a.m.
Holy mother of pearl.
Flying out of bed, Lexie threw on a pair of jeans,
loafers, and a T-shirt. Then she hustled down the stairs, rubbing sleep out of her eyes as she slipped her hair into a ponytail holder.

In the kitchen, the delicious, decadent smell of chocolate attacked her nostrils. Bowls and spoons cluttered a counter also dusted with sugar and cocoa. Aunt Gladys stood there in her purple caftan, humming to herself and sliding a pan from Lexie’s oven. She shuffled over and set it on a cooling rack. “Morning, Leslie. Have some breakfast. I’ve made plenty.”

“Hi, Mom,” Eva said without looking up. Sitting at the table, with a plate of brownies in front of her, she was reading Homer’s
The Iliad and the Odyssey.
She munched on one of the chocolate squares and sipped from a tall glass of milk. “Thanks, Aunt G. These brownies are great.”

Aunt G?
Lexie smiled at the nickname Eva had given her. It was rather quaint. Then she shivered as nostalgia washed over her. Eva looked like she was about ten, except that back then, her favorite reading material had been anything written by Laura Ingalls Wilder or Clifford the Big Red Dog books.

How had the time gone by so quickly? Now that little girl was walking the lofty halls of Westonville University. Lexie had to be in a time warp—like an episode from the Twilight Zone.

She blinked, bringing herself back to the present. “We’ve got to get ready for customers, Eva. They’ll be here soon.”

Eva gave her an annoyed look. “Chill, Mom. It’s Sunday, remember? The day of rest? The café is closed.”

“Oh, I forgot.” Good Lord, was Aunt Gladys’ dementia catching? Lexie rubbed her eyes, trying to focus her fogged brain. “I couldn’t sleep last night and I’m still groggy.”

“The boy-man must have kept you awake.” Aunt Gladys stared gravely at her. “I heard him dancing on the roof, too. You simply must have an exterminator come out and do away with him.”