Vintage: A Ghost Story (18 page)

“Nothing I can think of.”
She chewed her lower lip a moment. “That leaves exorcism.”
“Oh, don’t tell me I have to quote Latin prayers.”
The edges of her mouth lifted in a near smile. “No. The book says that any medium can risk an exorcism—”
“Risk?” I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Yeah. I don’t remember everything but it involves entering the spirit’s memories and convincing it to depart.”
“I want to go back to that word ‘risk.’”
She turned and looked at me. “There’s the chance the medium could fail and experience the ghost’s death.”
“I’m guessing that’s fatal or something.”
She nodded solemnly.
I groaned. “Great.” I looked out the window. The suburbs were filled with people that had no clue what went on around them. I was so envious of them. Envy’s my game and I play it too well.
“Maybe there’s another way.”
My acute sense of gloom told me otherwise. “Maybe there’s not. I’m not even totally sure what happened to Josh that night. All I got was a glimpse.”
“We really need to find out more. Maybe one of the people from the party’s still alive. We could go back to the library and get a list of his class mates—”
“Teammates. I think it was mostly the guys on the football team and some girls. And the boy Roddy brought.” The more I thought about Colin the more familiar his face seemed.
“Think Roddy’s still around?”
“I doubt it.”
“What’s wrong?”
“The last thing I gleaned from Josh was seeing Roddy’s car approaching fast.”
“You think his boyfriend ran him down?”
“Maybe.” Did I really believe Roddy would do something so terrible? He had been outed by Josh, and back in the 1950s that had to be awful. “But still that’s really fucked up.”
We drove back to the library. Even though there was no sign of the ghostly librarian, I made sure to be absolutely quiet until we reached the second floor.
Trace slid the ’57 yearbook over to me while she opened the following year. I paged through seeking Roddy and Colin. In the football team photo, a monochrome Roddy stood next to a smirking Josh. The tiny caption listed his full name. Rod Karden. As I thought, Colin wasn’t on the team. He had lacked the build, being too thin.
I found him in the junior class photos. My jaw dropped, as I read his name. Fifty years had transformed Colin from a lanky kid with glasses and a bow tie into my distinguished boss. Malvern.
“Trace.” I tapped the photo. “You’ll never believe this.”
She peered at the page. “Shit.” Her eyes went wide. “No way.”
“But Malvern’s not gay! He’s always chasing widows.” Yet, even as I said that, I had to wonder. The man had never mentioned any wife. All his talk of womanizing could have been just a facade to conceal his real lifestyle. The fact that he had been a central figure in a huge drama that happened decades ago between two lovers left me unsure.
Trace shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. Look,” She slid over the ’58 yearbook and showed me a memorial page to Josh. “Sort of touching when you think what a scandal his being gay must have been.”
“Either they ignored it to appear decent or people really did care.” I ripped out the page. “Could come in useful,” I added, folding it up and slip ping it into my jeans pocket.
We went through the rest of the ’58 book but couldn’t find a senior class picture of Roddy. He wasn’t pictured or listed playing football, either.
“What do you think happened?” Trace asked. “Could he really have done it? Was he arrested?”
“You would think if that happened it would have been part of the local legend?”
“You’re the one who thought Roddy was guilty. Maybe he just dropped out.”
“So what, he ran to the border? This is Jersey, where would they go? Delaware?”
“Hold on.” She left and in a few minutes returned with the local phone book. “What’s his last name?”
“Karden.”
She flipped through more of the book. “Okay, here’s a R. Karden. 15 Earl Court.”
“Sounds ritzy.”
“It is. The neighborhood is old houses and money. Doesn’t your boss live around there?” She ripped the page out. I winced at the sound, sure that the ghost librarian would come looking for vengeance.
“Okay, so now this is getting weird.” When had a beautiful house in the suburbs become the reward for running over your boyfriend?
“We need to talk to one of them. Finding out what happened that night is important for the exorcism.”

Earl Court had cobblestones rather than sidewalk and gigantic maple trees lining the street. Every three-storied house demanded our attention with eaves or gables or gingerbread trim.

Several cars were parked in the long driveway of number 15 and a few more were out front. Next to them, Trace’s car looked more of an eyesore than usual, resembling a tumor on wheels.

“Looks like a shindig,” I said.
“Want to bag it?”
“No, the more we delay the more things get risky. Besides,

this may not even be him.” Then I saw the antique red Thunderbird. “That car.” I pointed it out to her. “That’s Malvern’s.” I still found it hard to believe my boss was involved in all this.

We went up to the door. I was suddenly mindful of my shabby appearance. I ran a hand through my hair, hoping to comb out the snarls. I did not want to look like a scarecrow making a house call.

Trace rang the bell. Even the chime sounded expensive. The thin man who opened the door had gray hair trimmed close to the scalp. He wore a powder-blue sweater and pale linen pants. He blinked at us through wire-rimmed glassed. “Can I help you?” We heard gentle laugh ter and light jazz tunes drifting out from behind him.
“A Roddy… Rod Karden wouldn’t happen to live here?”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”
“It’s extremely important we speak to him.” Trace stepped forward almost into the house.
“I’m a friend of Malvern’s,” I quickly added from behind her.
“Of Colin’s?”
“Yes, I work at his store.”
He looked at us a moment—I wondered what we do if he shut the door in our faces—then said, “Come inside.”
We stood in a foyer with a marble tile floor. To our left was a posh living room with a great deal of white furniture. On the right, partially opened sliding doors framed a dining room filled with seated people. We had inter rupted a dinner party.
“One moment.” He lifted up a finger. His dislike of the notion of leaving us alone in the house was obvious, and he looked back several times as he walked into the dining room. I lost sight of him after that.
“Look at that chandelier.” Trace stared above us. “Is that handblown glass?”
The man returned with Malvern and Roddy, who I recognized from sto len memories despite his age. My boss looked ready to dash out the door. “Something wrong with the shop?” He grew panicked and almost spilled the drink he brought with him.
“No, no. Everything’s fine. I just—I need to talk to the host.”
“Do I know you?” Roddy asked. His features retained their handsome past, though the hair had thinned and the neck sagged.
“It’s about Josh. Josh Wyle. You do remember him, don’t you?”
Roddy paled and took a step back; the man who opened the door reached out to steady him. The act carried an air of tenderness that left me sure they were lovers. Malvern lifted the glass he held and took a hefty swallow. Both their reactions made me all the more suspicious.
“I haven’t heard that name in a long time,” Roddy said.
“I know, I’m sorry, it’s important.”
He seemed to consider for a moment, then turned to Malvern. “Colin, would you mind telling everyone I’ll be indisposed for a little while.”
“Fair enough, Roddy.” My boss held out his arm to Trace. “You wouldn’t want an old man to go back into that rough crowd all by himself, now would you, m’dear?”
Trace looked at me with a nervous smile.
I wanted to tease her with comments of the wolf come calling at her door. “Have fun,” I said. Honestly, the worst I expected was that they’d share a couple drinks. I wouldn’t wager on who could hold their liquor better.
Malvern stroked his moustache with exaggerated bravado. “I promise to return her in good spirits.”
I followed Roddy through the living room into a small study. Along one wall was a bookshelf of thick volumes. An old state flag, framed in a shadow box, hung on another. Roddy sat behind a desk and the other man moved to stand behind him protectively. Roddy gestured toward the other chair in the room.
“So what’s this all about?”
I needed to be a bit sly. Roddy would never just out and out admit that he had run down Josh. “Have you heard the legend about the ghost that walks down Rt. 47?”
“Of course. Everyone in town has.”
“So then you know that it is supposed to be your high school boyfriend Josh?”
Roddy tapped a fountain pen lightly against the desk top. “This is all old news. People have been claiming to see the ghost for decades.”
“And you’ve never seen him?”
Roddy’s brow creased. “Honestly? After we moved back to town—when was that, Tom?”
“Eighty-nine, I believe,” answered the other man.
Roddy nodded absently. “Back then I went out there a few times. I never saw anything. It’s just talk.”
“Not true. I saw him.” I leaned forward in the chair. “More than that. His ghost followed me home.”
Tom’s voice held a terseness to it. “I think we’ve heard enough of this. Whatever you’re playing, it’s in very poor taste.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s also not Halloween, young man,” Roddy said, pointing at me with the pen.
I never expected them to believe me. Not without proof. I steepled my fingers in front of my mouth as I thought through all the memories eaves dropped from Josh.
“Do you still own that ’51 Chevy? What was it? Moonlight Cream?”
Tom looked down at his partner. “Rod?”
“Shame about the headlight. Or was there more damage that night?” I added.
“Yes, that was my car.” His eyes narrowed at me. “What did Colin tell you?”
“Nothing. I never knew you had a thing back then.”
Both of them started laughing. “Me and Colin? Dating? That’s absurd.”
“But—”
“Let me tell you, Colin Malvern never met a skirt he didn’t fancy.”
Tom removed his eyeglasses to wipe at the corners of his eyes. “We never see him with the same woman.”
While relieved that my boss, who I did care for, wasn’t to blame for whatever happened between Josh and Roddy, I stumbled over what had happened.” But Josh thought you were cheating on him with Malvern. The fight at the party…”
“Right. Josh Wyle was the most jealous guy on the planet. I remember he accused me of staring at the other boys in the locker room showers. All Josh ever wanted to do was make out and talk about plays and bitch about the others.” Roddy sighed. “He resented Colin and never understood that I needed a friend to talk to about everything else in life, what we’d do after we graduate. Josh could never look past high school. He was stuck in the moment.”
“And still is,” I said under my breath.
“Colin’s mom owned the dress shop in town and was friends with the swishiest designers. Everyone at school thought he was gay. After that awful scene at the party, he was smart enough to sleep with the school tramp—”
“Arlene Pervis,” I interrupted without even thinking.
He stopped to stare at me like I had stolen his memory instead of Josh’s. “Yes. That’s her. How did you know?”
“Cheerleaders are always memorable.” I imagined a gangly, teenaged Malvern plying Arlene with
haute couture
from his mother’s shop. Or maybe something that only looked expensive. My fondness for the man tripled.
“Tom.” Roddy reached back to take hold of his partner’s arm. “Would you go get me a glass of water?” The dismissal hung awkwardly in the air.
Tom covered Roddy’s hand with his own. “Are you okay?”
I had trouble with the guilt over so visibly upsetting Roddy and had to warn myself not to like him just yet until I knew whether he was responsible for Josh’s death.
“Yes, just a little thirsty.”
Tom nodded. He glared at me long and hard before walking out of the room. I shrunk in my chair a bit.
Roddy leaned forward.” Now, what is this really about?”
“I need to know what happened that night.”
“Why?”
“I wasn’t lying before. Josh’s ghost is haunting me.” I tried to sound sane and stay calm. “He’s still consumed by jealousy. He tried to kill my boyfriend last night!”
“You expect me to believe that?”
How many more parlor tricks would I have to play?
“Maybe you should tell me what other television shows besides
Wagon Train
did you have
fun
watching with Josh?”
Roddy’s mouth opened slightly and his complexion became white. “Th-that’s—”
“I went to the library. I read the senior yearbook. You ran off. Why?” I couldn’t bring myself to directly accuse him.
“Josh outed both of us in front of most of the football team and in-crowd. They looked at us like freaks. Think they’d have kept the secret?” He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face as if wiping away the years. “My father would have beat me within an inch of my life. I had no choice but to run away to New York City. That’s where you went when you were gay on the East Coast in the fifties. I found out weeks later that a drunk driver had struck and killed Josh.”
“A drunk driver?”
The door to the study opened and Tom came back in with a glass of ice water.
“Didn’t you read the newspaper files at the library?”
“No,” I said, embarrassed at how shortsighted Trace and I had been. We had just assumed everything about that night and those involved. I felt awful for wrongfully accusing him.
“Thanks, love,” Roddy said, taking the glass from Tom. He took a long sip.
“I’m sorry for bothering you. And for messing up your dinner party.” I nearly toppled the chair standing up. Learning that Josh had been to blame and had been tragically unlucky on his way home, left me empty. How any of this would help me with the exorcism, I had no idea.
Roddy waved aside my apology. “All this talk about a ghost?”
I shook my head. “Don’t worry about it.” There seemed little reason to stay and cause more grief.
Tom opened the door and, together, they escorted me out of the study and into the dining room. Trace sat chatting with several seniors around the long elegant table. She sipped something bubbly from a flute glass. Malvern looked up and smiled.
“My boy, your princess here is simply delightful.”
Trace thanked him with a kiss on the cheek which left the man blushing.
“I’ll walk them out, Rod.” Malvern said. He patted me on the shoulder fondly.
Once outside, my boss turned to me. “I don’t know why you’re both so interested in Josh Wyle. But let me tell you, he was a pompous ass that nearly ruined my friend’s life.”
Trace took out her car keys. “Malvern told me a little what happened that night.”
He nodded. “Rod probably didn’t tell you how devastated he was when he learned Josh died. It took him a while not to blame himself.”
“How long has he been with Tom?” I asked.
Malvern rubbed his chin. “Nearly twentyfive years, I think. They met in New York while in line for a Broadway show.”
“Aww,” Trace cooed. She looked at me and rubbed my arm. “One day.”
Malvern followed us to her car. “You know,” he said to me, “if Roddy had a friend like her growing up, he would have an easier time coming to grips with being gay. You’re lucky to have her.” He winked before heading back to the house.
He knew! I didn’t know whether to feel ecstatic over no longer having to hide my sexuality from him anymore or unnerved, wondering when he had learned the truth. Tonight? Weeks ago? Or had he always known?
“What a devil your boss is.” Trace laughed.
“Yeah.” I opened the car door. “So now let’s go back to your place. I want to know everything about this exorcism. We’re doing it tomorrow night.” In some ways, my life was becoming less complicated. I just hoped I would live to enjoy the newfound openness.