Blackvine Manor Mystery (8 page)

“
A
LICE
, THIS IS THE FRIEND I was telling you about. Alexis, this is Alice Manetti.” George rubs his hands together, excited for the introduction.

Alice Manetti, the psychic medium, reaches out a hand and gives Alexis a strong shake. The diminutive woman quickly makes herself at home in Alexis’ studio apartment, tossing off her red leather coat and unwrapping an excessively long silk scarf from her neck. Underneath she is wearing a long-sleeved black sweater and black jeans. Silver bangle bracelets and her bright white pixie cut hair flash as she moves around the room.

“Did George tell you I’ve been here before?” She doesn’t wait for anyone to answer. “Except you are having different experiences than the other woman.”

Shaking back the silver bangles, Alice takes Alexis’ hands. “You are hearing things and seeing things. For such a new discovery you are accepting it very well.”

“My mother had similar experiences and I have her sort of diary.” Alexis finds herself opening it up as she looks down into Alice’s bright black eyes.

“Yes, yes, it’s good to have a reference. Though there is always a gap between pages and practice. We will practice.” She pats Alexis’ hand and pulls her down onto the red sofa.

Alice begins breathing in deep, audible breaths, encouraging Alexis to join her. They breathe and exhale; Alexis feeling herself focusing until George comes clattering across the room with his video camera.

“Sorry, don’t mind me.”

Alice waves a hand at him. “George films some of my client conversations as payment for the séance I performed here. The energy in here is rather different this time.”

She releases Alexis’ hand and claps her own, holding them up as if they are still reverberating cymbals. Alice then listens, turning her head slowly and deliberately, before clapping again.

“Yes, yes, we will get to all of that. First, though, you have no ritual. You have no way.” Alice turns her sharp eyes on Alexis again. “You cannot control when spirits contact you.”

“No, it pretty much happens at random. More around here than anyplace else.”

She shakes her silver bangles at George. “Like this one. Always inviting spirits to communicate but never protecting himself. You will get hurt, Georgie; soon if you are not careful. I see it.”

“I meditate?” Alexis volunteers, thinking of the chapter she reads from her mother’s book.

“Not enough. First you must summon your own energy. Then you open up the space for communication. Lastly, you always, always, clear the space and close up the energy.” Alice rolls up her sleeves.

“First I breathe, building my own energy; a different force than you use for running errands or walking a flight of stairs. It is from deeper inside and stronger. Then I listen to the room, some people cast circles but I concentrate on one room at a time. I clap my hands to send my energy out to each wall, making it my own space. When I am finished I walk around the room, touching each wall to take my energy back. Then I wrap my scarf around and around. It is easiest to meld mental protection with physical actions.”

Alexis quickly scribbles notes in the index margins of her mother’s book, knowing she will have to practice herself later. When she is done Alice stands up, ready to communicate with the spirits of Blackvine Manor.

Alice takes deep breaths, exhaling slowly, before turning to the first wall. She claps and holds her palms out to the wall, letting the echoing thought of the sound fill the space. When she has clapped in each direction she settles down cross-legged on the floor and listens.

“I do not see the way you see. I close my mind and through the dark come flashes, like my inner eye opens on other scenes. You see with your eyes open.”

“And I can sometimes hear things ghosts say,” Alexis tells her.

“I say spirits because there are different types and, to me, ghosts are just one type.” She closes her eyes and breathes in. “In fact, that is the answer you are seeking. There was a wraith.”

“What is a wraith?” George can’t help but ask.

Alice opens her eyes and tells him, “A wraith is a spirit of one recently departed or one about to die. You’ve seen one before?”

Alexis turns to George. “I remember my mother talking to someone I couldn’t see right before she left. It could have been Delia right before she died. After that night my mother started spending time here before she disappeared.”

“Delia. She has spoken to you,” Alice assumes aloud.

“Yes, but as a ghost, right? She had been dead for a long time before leading me to her body.”

Alice closes her eyes, still nodding. “And someone else is here. He is strong. He has already used your curiosity against you.”

George snorts. “He almost used her to steal a fist full of rings.”

“And this is why you must practice. No one cares if all you do is say ‘abracadabra’ and spin in a circle. As long as your intention is to build up your energy, contain it, and then reclaim it, you will protect yourself from unwanted spiritual contact.”

Shaking her finger at both of them, Alice walks around the studio apartment touching each wall before wrapping her long silk scarf around and around her neck.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Manetti.” Alexis shakes her hand again.

“You are very interesting, different abilities than mine. We should talk more. After you practice.” Alice kisses her on the cheek.

“Thank you, Alice. I’ll see you on Wednesday?” George inquires.

“Yes, at the Roberts’. Another séance. Though I am serious, if you do not take steps to protect yourself you will get hurt too.”

Alice throws on her red leather coat before turning one last time to Alexis. “He keeps showing me a willow tree. He wants you to meet him at the willow. Protect yourself first. Practice!”

“
Y
OU’RE A TERRIBLE DETECTIVE
.”

“HOW’S that? I have the office.” Maxwell motions to the sparse furnishings with his coffee.

Alexis makes herself comfortable in one of the straight-backed chairs. “That smells great.”

“Glad you think so because I happened to get two and I’m not sure I need that much caffeine.”

She grins at him as she grasps the hot coffee with both hands. “I like this.”

“So, are you going to tell me why I’m a horrible detective or do I need to guess?” Maxwell puts his feet up on the desk, his dark eyes sparkling at her.

“We only asked about Amelia when we went to Lakeview Cemetery. You didn’t even think to ask about Delia or Fenton for that matter.”

She catches Maxwell admiring her legs before he answers, “I got distracted.”

“Come on, I’m serious.”

“I’m serious too. You distracted me with all your hocus pocus.”

Alexis sips her coffee, hoping its warmth can soothe the twinge in her heart. “Well, are you going to follow up on it?”

“Actually, I already did.” Maxwell slaps his feet back on the floor and reaches for a notebook. “The caretaker called me back. Your mother broke into the cemetery after hours. The security guard reported her behavior as unstable.”

“Go ahead, just tell me.”

“She was yelling at someone though the guard states she was definitely alone. She then started waving a shovel around and screaming. The guard was injured trying to subdue her and that’s why the police were called. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Alexis sips at her coffee.

“I thought that might be hard to hear.”

She snorts quietly. “Well, where you think it sounds crazy, I think it sounds like she was having an altercation with a spirit.”

He stiffens in his desk chair. “Right. So, are you heading back to the cemetery?”

“ Actually, I’ve got plans today.”

“New man in your life?”

Alexis smirks. “You could say that. How about you, do you have plans?”

“Unfortunately. If I didn’t I’d force you to break your date and go out with me.”

* * *

M
axwell slams
the door of his car, startling Alexis before she can knock on the door of the craftsman house. “Please tell me I’m having crazy visions like you and I’m not really seeing this.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Otto is my grandfather, remember?” He joins her on the steps and knocks on the door.

“Well, stop calling me crazy or I’ll set Johnny on you.”

The German Shepherd appears at the window and starts barking. He froths and lunges at the window, eyes riveted on Maxwell.

“Seriously, why are you here?”

Alexis shrugs. “Otto invited me.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. And are you really going to ask an old man if he buried his murdered wife at Lakeview Cemetery?”

She swallows, not liking the sound of her plan explained aloud. “I’m just here for lunch?”

Otto throws open the door, not bothering to stop Johnny’s barking. “I’m so glad you could both make it. Come on in. The grill is already going and my nosy neighbors will be happy there’s someone here to supervise the old man and his fire.”

Alexis takes his outstretched hand and walks inside, both of them leaving Maxwell to face the frothing German Shepherd.

“Stand down,” Otto says over his shoulder and Johnny stops with a snort.

Maxwell catches up with them as they head out to Otto’s back deck. “I’d think the neighbors would worry more about you inviting young women over.”

“Well, you’re here too, ain’t you? I thought he was a quick one but maybe I was wrong.”

Alexis laughs. “It sounds like you’re trying to play cupid?”

Otto pulls out a chair for her before dropping into one across from her. “What’s the harm at my age? Max might not believe me but I was in love once.”

“Guess I’ll put the steaks on?” Maxwell ignores them both, taking a beer from the cooler.

The two men are stiff around each other and there are awkward pauses but Otto’s charm is undeniable. He sips at a beer, supervising every move Maxwell makes over the grill, and making Alexis laugh. By the time the steaks are done and everyone sits down, they are both relaxed enough to talk more.

“How did you meet Delia?” Alexis chooses a safe topic.

Otto spins his fork through his salad without eating. “I worked at a gas station near her house. She used to smile at me out the window of her father’s car.”

“Maxwell told me her family didn’t approve?”

He lays the fork down and takes another sip of beer. “A pump jockey whose best prospect was the police academy. Yeah, they weren’t real excited.”

“And he wants me to join the academy,” Maxwell scoffs.

“Isn’t that the only way to become a detective?” Alexis asks him innocently.

Otto perks up. “So, you may make something out of yourself yet?”

Maxwell chews on his steak before reminding Alexis, “I thought I was a terrible detective.”

Alexis decides to risk it. “Only because you can’t even figure out where to take Delia’s flowers. He thought it would be nice to take flowers to her grave.”

“Sure, sure. They were always close.” Otto nods absently.

“Does she have a grave?” Maxwell asks, too interested to be mad at Alexis’ rough segue.

“Not at first, not when we didn’t know, but now she’s over in Lakeview. Her family has a plot there.” Otto’s voice is hoarse.

“It’s a lovely cemetery. I remember a beautiful willow tree there,” Alexis comments.

“Under the willow!” Otto suddenly yells, kicking over his chair as he stands up, “I saw you with him under the willow!”

Maxwell jumps up. “Who are you talking to?”

“You lied to me. I saw you with him. Are you trying to make a fool out of me in front of the entire department?” Otto shouts, his face twisted with rage.

Alexis holds her breath, seeing Delia in front of him, her face wet with tears.

G
EORGE SLOUCHES DOWN
ON THE red sofa next to her. “And then what happened?”

“It took Maxwell forever to get Otto calmed down. He finally had to give him a sedative. He apologized to me, explaining that Otto has been showing signs of dementia for a while now. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I saw her too.” Alexis covers her eyes with the palms of her hands.

“You don’t think its dementia?”

“No,” she uncovers her eyes and blinks, “I think Delia is appearing to him because the anniversary of her death is coming up. But Maxwell thinks I’m faking all of this so I didn’t say anything.”

George sits up and turns to face her. “If it makes you feel any better I have hundreds of people online telling me I’m a liar.”

Alexis rolls her head towards him. “It might. Tell me more.”

“After Alice left, I went out to record footage of the fountain. It turned out to be the most amazing stuff I’ve captured yet. Orbs moving around the fountain to the bench, they appear out of nowhere, there’s no way they could be faked. And then there is the same mist I first saw.”

“That’s great, George.”

He nods. “Yeah, I thought so at first but now I’m getting all these comments telling me to take it down. People are calling it a hoax.”

Alexis sits up. “Why? You said there was no way it could be faked.”

“Except in the middle of the footage is a cut-in image that I didn’t put there. I don’t know if I got hacked or what. Exactly halfway through what I recorded a gravestone appears.”

“And people seriously think you added it? What’s the point of putting a random gravestone into a genuinely spooky scene?” Alexis gets up and heads to her computer.

She has his website bookmarked and clicks on the latest video link. A ticker marks 437 comments posted. The video starts playing and Alexis watches intently. The orbs are amazing, forming directly on-screen with no hints of other light sources or reflections. The mist is eerie and as she squints she swears she can see a hand reaching out. Then there is a hitch in the recording.

“Wait, did I miss it?”

George takes over. “Here let me pause it so you can see.”

The footage plays again and George clicks at just the right second. A weather-beaten gravestone appears and Alexis gasps.

“What, what did I miss?” George asks, getting closer to the computer screen to study the image.

“It says Willow!”

He runs his fingers through his wild hair. “Does that mean something?”

Alexis rings her hands. “Otto admitted he had Delia buried at Lakeview Cemetery. Maxwell and I went there following that clue about my mother. So, I was just politely commenting that I’d seen a lovely willow tree there and he went ballistic.”

She paces back and forth. “He was accusing her of meeting someone there. It had to be Fenton. Otto was screaming at her about making a fool out of him in front of the whole department.”

George is listening but he can’t help scrolling through the comments. “Some people think a spirit is using my footage to communicate. Like they had to get it across so badly they found a way to imprint a memory during my recording.”

“Is that possible? It could be possible.”

He sighs. “Other people are saying I’m the worst editor they’ve ever seen and that all my work is amateur crap.”

Alexis reads over his shoulder. “That one says ‘stay away from Willow. Don’t look for what isn’t yours.’ Can ghosts leave comments?”

George slumps back down on the red sofa. “I don’t know anymore. Have you been practicing what Alice told you?”

“I think I’ve decided on it.” Alexis comes to stand in front of him.

“I do the breathing like she showed us. Then I make a circle with my arms.” She twists all the way to the left reaching both hands out behind her then swings slowly around until she twists all the way to the right. “This way if I don’t want people to know what I’m doing I just look like I’m stretching.”

George nods. “Channeling under the radar, I like it. And how are you going to bring it all back in and protect yourself?”

She smiles. “I just spin in a circle the opposite way. And for protection, I put on this necklace. It’s black onyx.”

He gets up and shuffles to the door. “Then keep practicing. Good night.”

“Wait—” Alexis catches him at the door “—have you come up with something for your protection?”

George smirks. “I don’t need protection, I’m just the cameraman.”

“I know this will sound crazy—” she slaps him as he sticks out his tongue “—but what if Delia did use your footage to send a message. What if Willow is a clue that someone doesn’t want us to know about?”

“If it’s a clue, take it to Maxwell. All I did was record a broken fountain at night.”

George salutes her and heads down the hallway to his apartment. Alexis waits at her door, worrying, before slowly shutting it and wandering over to her window. Pulling back her chevron imprinted gray and white curtains, she sees his light come on across the courtyard. He never pulls his shades all the way and she can see him stumbling across his camera equipment.

Not wanting to be nosy, Alexis goes to put water on for a cup of tea. When she returns to her living room she can’t help but peek out the curtains again. The kettle starts to whistle as Alexis claps her hands to her mouth and tries not to scream. Across the courtyard she sees an invisible force pick up George’s tripod and swing it at the back of his head. He falls to the ground as his cameras turn on him, recording the tripod swinging like a metal club.

Alexis tears open her door and, leaving the kettle screaming, she sprints to save her friend from the unseen attacker.