Ghosted

Chapter Twenty-Three

Somewhere between the tomato salad with crème fra?che and olive granola, and the Baked Alaska with pistachio brittle and raspberry curd, Desi brought up the subject of Jacqueline McCabe’s ghost.

Desi had been overserved at that point—they had all been overserved, though Archie was still doing his best to pace himself. Desi dropped her spoon with a little clatter and said, “If there really are ghosts, why didn’t Jacqueline McCabe appear the night John died?”

Professor Azizi made a broad gesture and just missed knocking over his long-stemmed wine glass. “Jacqueline doesn’t go with the house like a bird-bath or a rose trellis. She only appears to members of her own bloodline. John was not—”

“Yes, he was,” Priscilla interrupted.

Both Azizi and Leo chorused, “No, he wasn’t.”

“He sure was,” Desi said. “Wasn’t he, Archie?”

Four pairs of eyes turned his way. Archie said, “Yes. John’s maternal grandmother was a McCabe. That was part of the reason John bought McCabe House. It was once a family home.”

Part of the reason, sure, but mostly John had bought the house for Jacqueline McCabe.

“I didn’t know that,” Leo said wonderingly.

“You’ve just forgotten,” Priscilla said. “John told us years ago.”

“I think I’d have remembered that . I thought he bought the house for the ghost!”

“Well, yes! The ghost is family!”

These people. Holy smoke. Literally.

“Exactly,” Desi said. “So why didn’t she appear? The legend says she always appears before a member of the McCabe family dies.”

Archie remembered the faintly glowing, ethereal figure he’d seen—imagined he’d seen—

inside the gazebo. “Maybe she appeared to John.”

Desi stared at him wide-eyed.

“I don’t think she only appears when a family member dies,” Priscilla commented. “But she’s definitely supposed to appear then.”

“Somebody should inform the lady,” Professor Azizi said. “As far as we know, she’s never deigned to appear to anyone in this century.”

“Maybe she’ll appear tonight,” Archie said.

This was met with silence and then everyone laughed.

It was after ten when the party moved to Leo’s séance room.

Archie had been to several of the ghost walks, but never one of the TPS’s seances. Typically, those were reserved for the four founders. He had a vague idea that there would be a medium present and that the séance would take place in the dining room. Why the dining room? Who knew. The idea likely came from watching way too many ’80s horror flicks in his teens.

In fact, Leo led the way downstairs to a small, windowless room steeped in shadows and the heavy scent of melting wax. The antique furniture was dark and ornate: a large, round black oak table, high-back velvet armchairs upholstered in midnight blue, a crystal ball stand in the corner, and several tall parlor screens covered in mysteriously embroidered fabric. Four tall candelabras stood in the corners of the room, casting flickering light over walls lined with dark shelves of books on the occult and supernatural.

In the center of the table lay a very old Ouija board.

If Archie had ever had doubts about whether someone as pragmatic as Leo was a true believer, they were answered once and for all. This was not a bonus room seconded into serving as an occasional space for party games. This was a designated room for occult practice.

“I’m sitting next to you,” Desi whispered. Archie smiled at her. It would take a lot more than a spooky setting to make him nervous, but it was a little creepy. The mood was definitely set, medium or no medium.

“Is it my imagination or is the room chillier tonight?” Priscilla asked of no one in particular.

“It’s that fetchingly skimpy dress of yours, dear girl,” Azizi returned.

Leo said, “Desi, my dear, you sit beside me. Archie, you sit—”

“Desi’s sitting next to me,” Archie said, and if that sounded brusque, oh well.

Leo’s brows shot up. Priscilla said, “Yes! Good call! It will amplify their family energy if they’re united through touch.”

“Yes,” Azizi agreed. “And if their energy proves wayward, it will be less distracting for us.” He was frowning at Archie, and Desi made a sound like a muffled giggle.

They took their chairs at the table, Archie sitting between Priscilla and Desi.

Leo closed his eyes, his face grave as he began the invocation. His voice, deep and resonant, seemed to carry the weight of authority and ritual.

“Let us join hands.”

Desi’s hand was cold in Archie’s. Priscilla’s hand was warm and she squeezed Archie’s palm encouragingly. Her attention was focused on Leo.

“We gather tonight as seekers and as friends,” Leo intoned, his voice magnified in the hushed room. “We come in peace, guided by the light of truth and love, to connect with the spirit of one who has left this earthly plane. Spirits of this place, guardians of the unseen, protect us in this endeavor. Let no harm come to those assembled.”

The shadows of the candle flames flickered across his face as he paused, letting his words settle in the silence.

“John Perry, friend, mentor, and brother in spirit, we call upon you. You who know our hearts, who cared for us. We ask that you come to us tonight. Hear our call, and lend us your voice, so that the truth may be known. Grant us your guidance, that we might find justice and peace in your name.”

Leo glanced around the table, nodding to each participant. “Repeat after me,” he instructed solemnly.

“Spirit of John Perry, we welcome you.”

Spirit of John Perry, we welcome you

“Come forth, if you are willing, and speak to us through this circle of friends.”

Come forth, if you are willing, and speak to us through this circle of friends.

“Guide our hands. Lead us to the truth.”

Guide our hands. Lead us to the truth.

Together, the small circle echoed his words, their voices mingling in the wavering candlelight,

Archie studied the faces around him. Eyes closed, each participant seemed lost in their memories of John.

Then Leo opened his eyes. For a moment he and Archie studied each other.

Leo placed his fingers on the planchette. “Let’s begin,” he said softly.

The table came back to life, bodies shifting, faces growing animated again.

Leo said, “Tonight the circle calls upon our dear friend, Dr. John Perry. It was his curiosity that first inspired us, his drive to know the truth that brought us together.”

Priscilla reached out, her manicured hand trembling slightly, and placed it over the edge of the planchette. “We need you to help us tonight, John,” she whispered, almost to herself. “We need you to tell us… tell us who took you from us.”

“Forgive me for being an old stubborn fool, John.” Professor Azizi’s voice shook. His fingers rested beside Priscilla’s on the planchette.

Archie started to free his hand from Desi’s, but she suddenly clutched him more tightly.

Too tightly. A strange tingling started at the base of his skull, tiny flashes of light blinded him, and a slow shimmering hum seemed to wash through him. For a moment he thought the stresses and strains of the week had caught up to him at last and he was having a stroke.

If so, it was more pleasant than he’d been led to believe.

Eyes closed, Archie tried to control his breathing as powerful, undefined sensation bloomed in his chest, warmth unfurling outward in a rush that momentarily robbed him of oxygen. The warmth grew, intensifying until it was almost too much, a blaze of golden light flooding his senses, as if the room itself was glowing around him.

Next to him, Desi let out a muffled sob.

Instinctively, Archie squeezed her hand—and felt her squeeze back.

A feeling of pure, boundless love, the kind he hadn’t felt since he was a child, safe and held and whole, flooded his senses. Not just love; joy . Profound joy like he had never experienced before, never even imagined. And with it, an overwhelming sense of comfort and certainty, as though John himself were reaching out to touch them both, letting them know he was there, his spirt alive and ardent and always with them.

Tears stung Archie’s eyes. His breath shuddered in his chest.

“Archie?” Leo’s tone was brisk. “Still with us? Desi, my dear?”

The spell broke with the suddenness of a popped soap bubble.

Desi gasped and opened her eyes.

Archie let go of her hand. They stared at each other. Desi’s eyes were bright with tears—and Archie was uncomfortably aware his were, too.

“Don’t be afraid,” Priscilla said. “The spirits are our friends.” She was not looking at them, though. She did not seem to notice that anything unusual had occurred.

“That’s assuming they’ll even show themselves to nonbelievers,” Azizi muttered.

“John would certainly show himself to these children,” Priscilla said.

Had no one noticed anything out of the ordinary happening on this side of the table?

It seemed not.

But Archie had not imagined it. And he could tell from Desi’s expression, neither had she.

Leo was saying, “They’re hardly children, Pris. They wouldn’t be here if they were children.”

“John considered them his children.”

“Be that as it may—”

Azizi said impatiently, “Are we going to continue or not? We can’t summon the spirits and then ask them to hold please .”

Desi and Archie quickly reached for the planchette, fingertips resting lightly. The faded wooden surface felt smooth and warm beneath so many hands.

So many years. So many hands. So many spirits?

Leo’s eyes glinted as he looked around the table. “Now. Concentrate,” he said, voice steady. “Think of John. Picture him. The way he spoke, the way he laughed. Focus on the energy he left behind.”

The energy he left behind? What did that even mean?

Silence fell as they each bowed their heads, breathing in unison as they reached out to the memory of John. The corner candle flames danced, sending primitive shadows that looked like folk art, leaping and twirling across the walls.

Priscilla was right. It was cold in that room. Desi shivered. A moment later, Azizi gave a little shudder.

Leo was the only one who didn’t seem to notice the cold.

“John,” he intoned, his voice taking on a practiced rhythm, almost a chant. “If you are with us, give us a sign. Move the planchette. Show us you’re here.”

Priscilla suddenly leaned forward and said through chattering teeth, “John, who murdered you?”

The candle flames jumped.

There seemed to be a collective gulp around the table, though maybe that was just Desi.

“ John .” Priscilla sounded more urgent. “Name your murderer!”

The planchette shuddered slightly, as if someone tried to yank it from the others, and the room seemed to hold its breath.

Then, without warning, the room plunged into complete darkness.

“You have to admit. That was freaky as hell,” Desi said on the drive back to McCabe House. “It was like a…an invisible hand reached out of nowhere and pinched out all the candles at once. And it was so cold . My God. It was freezing in there!”

Archie, preoccupied with his own thoughts, nodded.

“I wasn’t afraid, though. Regardless of whatever that was at the end. I knew Uncle John was still there with us.” She threw a glance at Archie.

“Mm-hm.”

To his surprise, she said, “Don’t mm-hm me. I know you felt it too, Archie. I could feel it. I could feel you feeling it.”

They exchanged looks in the light of the dashboard before Desi turned her attention back to the road.

“I think it makes sense,” she said. “He loved us. We loved him. I think he was there with us tonight.”

It affected him in a way he couldn’t have expected. The last person in this town he had ever thought he would feel a connection to was Desi. But he did. There was no question what they had experienced that night had created a bond.

Archie said, “I think you could be right.”

“It was weird at the end, though.”

“Very,” Archie agreed.

“You’d think they’d have been happy. I think they were scared.”

Archie said, “Maybe they never dialed the right number before.”

Desi laughed, then threw him another quick look. “Do you think that was it? They finally got an answer?”

Archie shook his head.

“Professor Azizi was smashed. But Priscilla and Leo were definitely off. They kept staring at each other like they thought the other one was going to say just kidding !”

Desi was right about that. Something had changed between Priscilla and Leo after the séance. “Do you think it’s possible there was a sudden draft from beneath the door?”

“It’s possible.”

“Me, neither.” Despite the drinks they’d both consumed that evening, she pulled neatly up at the curb in front of McCabe House. Nothing sobered you up like having the wits scared out of you.

Archie reached for the door handle. “Thanks for the ride home.”

Desi nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.”

“Yes. Good night.” He got out of the car. “Drive safely.” He slammed shut the door and waved to her.

Desi waved back and pulled away from the curb.

Archie watched her drive off, then he cut across the grass to the drive, going around the side of the house, and cutting through the garden.

The air felt cool and damp. The sprinklers had been on, and the leaves and bushes glistened in the moonlight. Tiny lights glittered in the trees and bushes, reflecting on the damp stone as he wound his way through the shrubs and topiaries. The frogs were croaking in four-part harmony, as fervent as a gospel choir. Water drops splashed Archie’s face and hair as he strode up the flagstones to the second level.

When he reached the entrance to the gazebo, he hesitated, remembering.

The faintest smell of crime scene chemicals seemed to linger, though more likely that was his imagination. After a moment he sat down on the stone steps and gazed unseeingly over the garden.

Maybe Jacqueline McCabe would pop in and he could run the events of the night past her. He snorted at his own thoughts.

A short while later he saw the headlights of Beau’s SUV sweep up the drive. Not long after, he heard Beau’s boots on the flagstones. Beau’s shadow fell across the path and a moment later stepped out of the shadows. He joined Archie on the steps.

“Hi,” Archie said.

“Hi.” Beau put his arm around Archie and kissed him. “How was dinner?”

“No expense was spared.”

Beau grunted. “How was the séance?”

“Interesting.”

Beau regarded him. “In what way?”

Instead of answering, Archie said, “Before we went into dinner, Leo spent a few minutes preparing me for the news that my inheritance might be a few million less than I was led to believe.”

“A few million ? What does that mean?”

“I’m not sure yet. One thing it means is I’ve got to hire a forensic accountant to go over the books.”

“Leo’s not going to like that.”

“No.”

Beau said slowly, “You think Leo was embezzling from John’s investment accounts?”

“I don’t want to. But. Leo did his unsubtle best to suggest John was paying Jon Monig blackmail money to keep quiet about being his illegitimate son.”

Beau considered for a moment. He said finally, “I’m trying to come up with a scenario where that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t.”

Beau was quiet again, thinking. “I thought you were convinced Monig killed John.”

Archie let out a long sigh. “I am. Leo never went outside on the night of the Ghost Walk.”

“So, you don’t think the embezzlement is connected? Or you do think Leo was somehow involved in the homicide?”

“We were missing a motive. Maybe this supplies it. If Leo offered Monig money on top of the guy’s already existing obsession?”

“Monig’s on shaky ground financially,” Beau agreed. “Still. Murder is a big ask.”

Archie nodded, scrubbed his face. “I really don’t want to think Leo was behind John’s murder. I don’t want to think it was someone John loved. Trusted. But I would bet money—my remaining money—that Leo’s been stealing from John’s accounts over a long period of time, that John discovered it, and John being John, he gave Leo a chance to explain himself, make it right.”

“It’s hard to put millions of missing dollars right.”

“Yeah.”

He was a little nonplussed when Beau’s arm tightened around him, pulled him close. Beau kissed his temple. “I’m sorry. I’d love to tell you you’re wrong, but it’s a plausible theory.”

Archie rested his forehead on Beau’s shoulder. Just for a moment he was not only willing to let someone else share the burden of knowledge; he was glad.

They stayed like that for a few moments, then Beau said softly, “It’s cold out here. Let’s go inside and I’ll warm you up.”