The Truth About Mallory Bain (36 page)

“That makes no sense,” said Grant.

“It does when you understand how I covered up lies to boyfriends, her parents, and teachers because she'd caught me cheating on a test, my one and only cheat, but she threatened to tell and ruin my life.”

Academic cheating was insignificant when compared to murder. A few of us had to laugh.

“You make light of it, but the tales I could tell her mother or Erik, especially. How she demeaned him to people before and after they were married.” Ronnie looked directly at me. “The guys she slept with before and after they were married.”

I bowed my head, not wanting to hear more about Dana and Chad, even though for years I shut out the signs they had slept together.

“Her motive for running you down, assuming she drove that SUV, might be my fault,” I said.

Sam's face hardened.

“I told Dana that Ronnie convinced me to contact Ben's parents, and that we planned to take Caleb to Canada to meet them.”

“One call to my parents would have led you to me,” said Ben.

“She has no idea you're back in Minneapolis, which is beneficial,” said Grant.

I added, “I am certain Lance Garner died because he ate poisoned food from my plate at their house.” I stared at my beverage glass, sickened by the thought.

Ronnie sent me a worried look. Ben's return was good, but I needed to grieve for Lance. As much as I loved Ben, I could not abandon Lance in an instant.

As though he sensed my sadness, Ben sat back and slid closer to me.

“Dana's insanity is reason enough for her to want any of us dead,” said Ben. “I've known in my gut for years she has no
conscience. I've seen her mood turn on a dime—smiling one minute, cussing like a sailor the next.”

“And capable of murder,” said Ronnie.

“You bet she is,” said Ben. “Life was hell with her dropping in like she did. She showed up in Winnipeg three years ago pissed on booze and rattled as hell when I snubbed her. My father called the police service to get her off the property after she threw a brick through his windshield. I packed up for Washington after that.”

“Three years ago she was married to Erik and had Emma,” I said.

“She doesn't care about them,” said Ben. “She took off running when my father came back in the house. She knew then she was in trouble.”

“She evidently crossed the border without a hitch,” said Sam.

“She wanted Caleb and me to move away from here, which doesn't sound like she wants to kill us.”

“Perhaps a lucid reprieve from insanity,” said Grant.

Sam cleared his throat and added, “I don't know her as well as the rest of you, but it seems plausible she won't hurt a child. Killing the kid's mom, though—I told you before, Mallory, you need to watch out.”

Ben shifted uneasily. “He's right. Imagine living alone in another state and Dana followed you there.”

“Who knows what's brewin' inside that gal's twisted head,” said Sam. “Kill Mallory in another state where nobody knows her, and then raise Caleb as her own.”

My posture stiffened when I thought of Caleb and Ben living without me.

She stayed in touch all those years to keep tabs on me,
I realized.
She would always keep tabs on me to keep me from Ben.

“You know, these suspicions are serious,” said Grant. “We can't ignore the near misses and accidents that might have taken fatal turns.”

“We can't make accusations, either,” said Ronnie.

I piped in, “Dana isn't nice to her own child.” I described the instances of the broken doll and her yanking Emma around like a rag doll.

“We need to find a way to hear the spirit's message,” said Grant. “In the absence of a digital footprint, I know Jack is dead and he's trying to reach us. His message may answer our questions and lead us to the proof we need.”

“Most of the time when he talks he's hard to understand,” said Ronnie.

“Then we need a séance,” said Grant.

Sam coughed out a laugh. “Bullcrap! When you're dead, you're dead.”

I defended Grant. “No. Ben last saw Harwood carrying a rolled newspaper under his arm and getting into Dana's car with her and Erik. The man in my dreams always carries a rolled newspaper under his arm.”

“How does Erik fit in with this?” asked Ben.

“He does her dirty work,” answered Ronnie. “He's always been her fetch-and-carry boy. You know that.”

Sam picked up the empty tray from the coffee table. “Dana is a good-sized woman, but she's no heavyweight. If she killed a man, she'd need help disposin' of the body.” He stepped into the kitchen.

Ronnie remained firm. “He's right. And if Harwood is our ghost, he's key.”

The obvious solution remained unappealing—humble myself and ask Judith's forgiveness. If Harwood's ghost was reaching out to the four of us and Caleb, communicating on his level was crucial to saving our lives.

“I'll do it,” I said dolefully. “I will invite Aunt Judith to hold a séance. We're sitting here together now and Harwood hasn't said a word. He has to channel, so let's make communication easy on him.”

Sam returned from the kitchen and stood next to the sofa. “Foolin' around with that sort of thing invites evil.”

“I never sense evil about the man in my dreams,” I said.

“Ghost or demon is the point,” said Ronnie. “Did you ever find the play
Hamlet
laying in an odd place?”

I shrugged.

“I did just last month. My copy was on the chair beside my bed.”

“I saw the letters ‘H' and ‘A' on a paperback he brought one night. I wrote a paper on
Hamlet
my sophomore year in college. Harwood gave me tips on how to develop my thesis.”

Ronnie pointed a finger at me. “And he knew I proofed that paper for you a half-dozen times if I proofed it once.”

“My premise purported the entity Hamlet encountered was his father's ghost, not a demon tempting him to murder. You remember the play. The spirit sought to avenge the father's death, a ‘foul and most unnatural murder.' Hamlet knows his father was poisoned, and the killer, his uncle, Claudius wears Hamlet's father's crown. Claudius seduced and married Hamlet's mother, Gertrude.”

“There are similarities,” said Ben.

“Lance believed I ate the poison mushrooms in a dessert Dana served to me.” I buried my face in my hands.

“I know I'm a lone wolf about séances,” said Sam. “But if you all are bent on contactin' a dead man, you oughta consider invitin' Dana and Erik.”

Ben shook his head. “Inviting them invites trouble. Don't forget, once Dana sees me, she'll know she's trapped.”

“Sam is right.” I took Ben's hand in mine. “That's the idea. Trap her. Let's visit Aunt Judith before Dana kills again.”

A
pology to Judith was tantamount to cooperation, although I expected none in return. The lives of my family and friends depended on me accepting her criticism without impudence. We were at her mercy. And unless I worded my apology carefully, there would be no séance with her as our medium. Finding another with a genuine gift would waste valuable time and no doubt money on scammers.

Ben and I removed our helmets and lingered in her driveway a few moments before going up to the stoop. Judith's modest house, paid for long ago, was unkempt despite her earnings and the cash she received when my parents bought out her share of the Kenwood house. No reason other than eccentricity was to blame for her unwillingness to spend a penny on fixing up the place.

Ben rang the bell. A chorus of dogs began barking inside the house with Judith ordering them back from the door. My knees weakened and my stomach knotted. My whole body was unnerved, anticipating what was in store.

“Hope they don't bite,” said Ben.

“They'd never dare. One is a show dog.”

“The Hound of the Baskervilles or his snarling minion, the little yippy beast?”

I snickered at his twisted expression. “Shush. She'll hear us.”

Judith pushed open the screen door and invited us inside. Careful not to catch his hand on the torn screen, Ben held the door for me to go in first. She remembered him without introduction. And while letting the retriever and its minion out into the fenced backyard, she started up a conversation with Ben as if he'd never left.

We stood in the entryway, patiently awaiting her return from the kitchen. The third dog, a black-and-tan mixed breed, let out a string of deep woofs. Judith pointed and the dog quieted as it settled on a braided rug next to a chair. The animal rested its gentle face on its forepaws and its soft brown eyes followed our movements. She gave the dog a nod. “Her name is Sage.”

I squatted down to pet the top of Sage's head and scratch behind her ears. “She's pretty.”

“She knows it, too. Her brothers let her rule the house. They know she's boss. But please, make yourselves comfortable.”

I joined Ben, who was already sitting on the couch. Judith sunk into the upholstered chair beside her dog, a chair covered with a red plaid blanket that failed to hide the threadbare edges. She dangled her arm over the side and petted the dog's head while we visited. I took in a few deep breaths and prepared to get off my chest what I came to say before delving into the purpose of our visit.

“Aunt Judith, I'm here to apologize for my part in our past disagreements, especially if I've ever hurt you in any way.”

“I'll bet you rehearsed that little speech for hours.”

“Excuse me?”

“No. Excuse me. That was rude. However, you are not here to apologize, Mallory Anne. Although your strength of character makes me proud. I'm sorry, too.”

I spoke barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Ben and you are in fact here to discuss the presence residing at Diane's.”

Ben looked at me and chuckled. “You were right.” He turned back to Judith. “You are perceptive.”

“Some of the time.” Her eyes lit up, and she smiled. “Too bad I had no idea you were alive.” Her expression remained warm. “Now I understand part of the spirit's message. He was a friend to both of you and managed to bring you together again. Remarkable how the dead work. Especially when you aren't the one who is dead.”

“True. You're certain he reunited us and not coincidence?” I asked.

“I believe you're dealing with a strong spirit. Bringing Ben back to life took some doing, so he probably did rely on a bit of divine intervention.”

“Too bad he can't undo lies,” said Ben.

“He wants to warn you both of something dire, which might be part of that lie you're talking about. He must have cared a great deal for you.”

“He did,” said Ben. “Now we want to help him. You told Mallory the spirit at Diane's wants justice and we need answers. We think a séance is the way to go.”

“It might be. Who will be attending?”

“Four for sure,” said Ben. “Mallory, our friends Ronnie Moore and Jack Grant, and me.”

I added, “Ronnie's friend Sam is leery. He wants to be there, just not at the table. Anyway, he didn't know the man we think is dead.”

Judith nodded. “Then he should wait outside the circle.”

“He suggested we include Dana and Erik Fowler in the group,” I said.

“Circle,” she corrected me. “Why them?”

“They were Jack Harwood's friends, too,” said Ben. “And we think one of them murdered him.”

Judith grew quiet for several moments. “He is the same young man who shared with us his thoughts on death the night of that awful thunderstorm.”

We nodded.

“And Dana. The kooky friend.”

We nodded again.

“Murder explains why his aura manifested a sense of great desperation when I encountered him last. We bonded that evening years ago. He was in harmony with the spirit world even when he was alive.”

“That conversation started with Tony,” said Ben.

“A séance is much different than casual conversation. Mallory Anne can tell you how the spirit controls whatever makes loud noises and the lights.”

“She has already, but we're willing to endure blaring TVs to learn the truth.”

“You may expose yourself and your friends to worse spectral madness than noise and darkness. Everyone must remain composed. The last séance I conducted, the room turned cold as ice. One participant broke the circle to grab a jacket and the spirit left. Remember, Mallory Anne, you refused to listen the last time Jack appeared.”

“Now I need to. The other ways he has tried communicating aren't working.”

“What makes you think one of the Fowlers killed him?” asked Judith.

I told her what she didn't know about Lance, the poisonings and accidents, including the motives for murder that we had considered plausible.

Judith cleared her throat. “All you can prove is Dana or Erik was present before or during a few of the incidents and she constructed an intricate and inexcusable lie.”

“An unfathomable lie that cost my family years of our lives,” said Ben. “We hope Harwood's ghost can tell us who killed him.” “If he was killed and if he's the spirit reaching out to you.” Judith stopped petting Sage. She folded her arms. “No ghost's accusation will convict a killer. You need solid evidence, which he may or may not help you obtain.”

I swallowed hard and detailed our promptings and visitations. Her face washed pale when I mentioned Caleb's experiences and the bloody hands, the swinging tire, and my sightings of glowing and gauzy figures. I lastly told her about the tea kettle incident. She gasped when I talked about my visions of knives stabbing into flesh.

“You should have come to me sooner.” She closed her eyes and shivered. “I shudder to imagine that nice young man being stabbed to death.”