Out of the Shadows (Bellingwood Book 12) (17 page)

She laughed at herself, patted the headstone one last time and walked on toward the mausoleum in the center of this section. Two large angels stood on either side and Polly couldn't help herself. She'd watched too many episodes of Doctor Who and knew better than to blink in front of them.

In moments she was standing over old Jim Bridger's body. She wondered where his Chihuahua had gotten to, hoping the poor dog was at home and not lost in town. Aaron would send someone to the house today and she'd make sure to ask. Mr. Bridger was curled around the base of one of the angel statues as if he were hugging it, but the congealed blood on his head and pallor of his body assured Polly he was definitely dead. And besides, she rarely got to find people before they died.

"Maybe one or two of those," she said to the sky. "Let me find them first so they can be saved. That would make things less grim, don't you think?"

There was no answer, for which she was grateful and she stepped back onto the brick pad that circled the mausoleum. After taking a deep breath and gathering her thoughts, Polly swiped the call she hated to make.

"Can I call you right back?" Aaron asked after answering the phone. "I have someone in my office."

"Ummm, that's fine," Polly said.

"Is it what I think it is?"

"Jim Bridger."

"I'll only be a few minutes. Are you safe?"

"I'm in the cemetery."

He chuckled. "Perfect. Of course you are. Just a few minutes."

Polly took a last look at Mr. Bridger, decided he wasn't going anywhere and walked around the mausoleum and looked off toward the west. She could see Andy and Len Specek's house from here. From the front side of the structure, she could see the rooftop of the Springer House over the tall wooden fence.

Walking back toward Harold and Mabel Sturtz's headstone, she looked for signs of a struggle. Len said he had seen a light out here last night. Was that Mr. Bridger walking around the graves with a flashlight? What would have brought him here?

Polly took her phone back out and turned the camera on, recording the graves as she walked up and down the well-worn paths. Nothing stuck out at her, but then it wouldn't. She didn't know many family names. And then she swore and went back to the mausoleum. She hadn't even looked at the nameplates.

The family name was Hoffen; Hilda and Peter, the matriarch and patriarch. Their names were at the top and as Polly scanned, she found Muriel’s name. Polly would have assumed she'd been buried as a Springer.

The door was closed and latched with a padlock. Polly put her hands on the lock, wondering if it was open and it dropped to the ground.

"Guess I answered that question for myself," she said quietly. Just as she put her hand on the door to press it open, the phone buzzed in her other hand and then rang.

"That's not fair," she said. "I'm in a cemetery, about to enter a mausoleum and you nearly scared me to death."

Aaron chuckled. "Don't tell me. The Hoffen mausoleum?"

This was the only one she could see. "Is there another?"

"No," he said. "It's the only one. Lydia's family is just over the rise there. So you found old Mr. Bridger?"

"He's curled around one of the angels."

Polly pushed the door open, trying not to shudder as it creaked.

"What are you doing?"

"The mausoleum door is open. I'm going in. But it's dark in here."

"Stop what you're doing," Aaron commanded. "Don't take another step."

"But..."

"No buts about it. Don't you dare go in."

"I'm not afraid of no ghosts," she said.

Aaron didn't get the Ghostbusters reference. At least he didn't laugh at it. "Neither am I, but if that is open, there could be evidence. I won't have you messing it up. Now back out. I want to hear that door creak again."

Polly pushed the door further open, making it creak again. What Aaron didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Right?

"Polly?"

"Fine. I'm out." She took a step backward, holding her hand on the door. If nothing else, she was going to look inside with her flashlight on once he finally hung up."

"Stu is heading to Bellingwood now and I'll be up there soon. Maybe I should give you a roll of crime scene tape so you can start preparing these for us when you come upon them."

"That's a great idea," Polly said distractedly. "Anything I can do to help."

"You haven't left the mausoleum yet, have you?"             

"I'll see you when you get here. Poor Joss is back in my truck. I should check on her." Polly swiped the call closed and opened her flashlight app, then passed it back and forth inside the door. She knew better than to go inside, though it nearly killed her. She laughed at the thought. There were so many awful jokes around death and cemeteries and here she was right in the middle of it.

She put her butt against the door and stepped inside, then moved the light and found what she was looking for. She knew it had to be here. A backpack camera bag was tossed toward the back of the open space, its top flap lying open. Lenses and cameras were still neatly in their places. She bent forward to see if she could snag one of the straps and heard scuffling behind her.

~~~

"Polly! Polly! Are you okay?"

Polly sat up. Wait. Why was she on the ground? "Joss? What are you doing here?"

"Somebody hit you over the head."

Polly reached up with her hand and felt the back of her head. She'd been rapped good. That hurt. "Did you see who it was?"

Joss shook her head. "No, the person was wearing a black hoodie and I was too far away to see much of anything. But I saw you go down and then they ran away, carrying something.

"No," Polly said. The camera bag was gone. "They took it."

"What was it?" Joss asked.

"The camera bag. I'm sure it belonged to Jeremy Booten."

"The kid who was killed?"

"Yeah. I leaned forward to try to grab it. I heard something and then here you are. How long was I out?"

"Just a couple of minutes. I ran as fast as I could."

"Whew. Stu Decker will be here any minute and he'll insist on calling the squad if he thinks I was hurt. I'm not hurt, so don't say anything."

"But, he hit you and you fell over," Joss protested. "Look, you've skinned your hands."

Polly brushed them off on her jeans. "It's nothing. I've had worse. But please don't say a word. They drive me crazy. And I'm going to be in enough trouble when Stu and Aaron find out that the camera bag was here and now it's gone."

"But you're going to tell them it was here."

"Yeah," Polly nodded. She put out her hand and Joss reached out to help pull her up. "I'm not much for hiding parts of the plot, but they certainly don't need to think that I'm wounded."

"How are you going to explain that it's gone?"

Polly scowled at her friend. "I haven't gotten to that yet." She rubbed the back of her head again. "Damn. I'm going to have to tell him everything."

"You're a lousy liar," Joss said, laughing.

"Just back me up when I insist that I don't need an EMT, okay?"

Joss backed away and shrugged. "Don't look at me. I don't want to be responsible for the condition of your head."

"Some friend you are."

They looked toward the road as a sheriff's vehicle pulled in.

"I'd better call Nate and tell him I'll be late for lunch," Joss said. "He won't believe this."

"Sure he will. It's part and parcel of being my friend."

"Oh yeah. I forgot."

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Grabbing the doorknob to go upstairs, Polly jumped when her phone rang and Beryl's number came up. The woman should be busy with Haunted House setup.

"Hello, crazy lady," Polly said.

"You have to come over here right now," Beryl said. "Don't ask any questions, just come over."

"Can I ask one question?"

Beryl whimpered. "Okay, one question."

"Where are you?"

"Get your hiney over to my house. I need you. Right this minute."

"It's not a dead body, right?"

"Shut up and get over here."

Polly chuckled. Beryl sounded impatient and rattled, but not upset. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"I'll pay for your speeding ticket. Just hurry."

She looked at the doorway. The dogs were going to have to wait. Beryl never called Polly for help. Back to the truck she went. Henry would hear about her adventure at the cemetery later today. She'd planned to text him once she got the animals settled again, but best-laid plans and all.

Polly fully expected Beryl to be standing at the front door of her house, but when the woman didn't come outside to greet her, she walked to the front door and rang the bell.

It took a few moments for Beryl to arrive and when she did, she pulled Polly inside and tugged her through the house and down the steps to her basement.

"What's going on?" Polly asked. "What is so urgent?"

"This," Beryl said, pointing to a basket on the floor. "What in the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Polly laughed as soon as she saw what was in the basket - two tiny grey kittens.

"Where did they come from?" Polly asked softly.

"I have no idea. I came home because I need to work this afternoon. When I went out to the studio, I heard crying." She wrinkled her nose and took Polly's hand. "I prayed that I was hearing birds, but it was unrelenting. I found that little one at the back of the studio." She pointed at the smaller of the two kittens. "She was insistent. I couldn't leave her outside, so I brought her in. All I have is Miss Kitty's food, but she was hungry."

Polly nodded. "And the other one?"

Beryl scowled at her. "Once I had that first little bugger warming up, I had to go back to the studio. She wouldn't let me out of her sight, so I took her with me. We came back to the house to get her a blanket and there was another of these silly things wandering beside the studio, making as much noise as his sister." She looked askance at Polly. "I checked. He's a boy. So here I am with these little stinkers in my house. What in the hell am I supposed to do with them?"

"Love them?" Polly asked.

"I don't have time for this," Beryl said. "And besides, Miss Kitty is a one woman cat. Or we're a pair. Or whatever. She isn't going to be happy when she finds them here."

Miss Kitty usually had the run of the house. "Where is she?" Polly asked.

"Sound asleep upstairs in my bedroom. I pulled the door shut so she wouldn't hear the pitter patter of kitty paws." Beryl pointed at the basket again. "Polly, what am I to do? Will you take them?"

"Not on your life," Polly said with both hands raised defensively. "Henry would move back to his mother's house if I added two more animals."

Beryl dropped down onto the chair beside the basket. The smallest kitty stood up on her back legs and reached for Beryl's pant leg, pulling herself up until Beryl looked at Polly with a piteous look on her face and bent over to gather the kitten into her arms. "This is a very bad idea," she said, stroking the kitten's head as it nestled into the crook of her left arm.

"What about Lydia or Andy?" Polly asked.

"Lydia won't take cats in because of her grandkids. And Andy? She wouldn’t take care of you like she should." Beryl cooed at the kitten, turning it on its back and rubbing its belly. The little girl fell asleep and Beryl looked up at Polly again. "Are you sure you won't take them home with you? Luke and Leia need a family to raise, don't you think?"

Polly laughed at her friend. "You're already falling in love with them."

"No," Beryl said, her protest weak. "I can't fall in love with them." She reached back into the basket and scooped up the little boy. He stiffened until he felt the warmth of his sister. She woke enough to lick his shoulder a couple of times and then they both fell asleep in Beryl's arms.

"Call Doc Ogden's office and make an appointment," Polly said. "I do believe your family just doubled in size today."

"I don't have time to integrate two new kittens into my household," Beryl said. "I wanted you to come over and take these little things away from me." Her right hand hadn't stopped petting the kittens and every once in a while she reached down and kissed one or the other on the head.

Polly reached out and touched the little boy. He was so soft. "You wouldn't let me take them even if I wanted to. Have you seen the mama cat?"

"We have ferals that come across those fields. Sometimes I see them, but most of the time I don't. They come from a couple of the farms. Every once in a while, I see them moving their kittens. Something must have happened for these two to have been left behind."

"Either that or the mama is looking for them."

Beryl nodded. "But they're weaned. Neither of them had any trouble eating kibble or drinking water. And both of them used the litter box when I put them into it."

"That's lucky," Polly said. "What are you going to name them?"

Beryl looked up at her and growled. "You think I'm keeping them, don't you."

"Of course you are, you silly woman. Look at you. It's about time you had some kitten fun in your life. You and Miss Kitty have gotten too old and boring."

"Who you calling old and boring?" Beryl asked. She bent over and put the kittens back into the basket. She had to unlatch the little girl's claws from her sweater, but they fell asleep in the blankets she'd provided.

"I'm calling you and your old lady cat boring. These two are going to remind you of how much fun it is to have young blood in the house."

Beryl took Polly's arm. "But what am I going to do if Miss Kitty hates them?"

"Give it time," Polly said. "She'll be okay. She loves you, doesn't she?"

"You brat. I call you to take these little lumps of fluff off my hands and all I get from you are insults." She took Polly's arm and led her to the staircase. "Do you have time for coffee?"

Polly shook her head. "I'd better not. I've been up to Sweet Beans twice this morning already. If I ingest much more, I might get the shakes."

"I'm not ready to let you leave," Beryl said. "It's been so long since I've had kittens in the house, I don't know how to start with them."

"There are two of them," Polly nodded back toward the basket. "They’ll take care of themselves. Just call Marnie and get in there as soon as possible so you don't have to worry about their health."

Beryl sighed. "I don't have time for this."

"Do you want me to take them to the vet?"

"Would you?" Beryl's face lit up and then she stopped. "No, that's ridiculous. If I'm going to be their new mommy ..." She stopped and grimaced. "Oh good grief, I'm talking like a crazy cat lady. New mommy, my ass. But anyway, they need to know that I'm the one who takes care of them."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Beryl shook her head. "No. I'm going to have to do this all on my own. No one to help me or rescue me."

"Dramatic much?" Polly asked.

"Whatever." She looked back at the kittens. "I don't have a carrier for them. How am I supposed to get two kittens to the veterinarian? And I don't have any kitten food here. And Miss Kitty's old toys are hiding under a bed somewhere." She sat down on a step. "I'm useless. And I'm still not getting any work done."

Polly patted her shoulder. "Why don't you take the kittens out to the studio with you and start working. That's what's stressing you out, isn't it?"

Beryl nodded.

"Let me take care of those other things. You can pay me back later."

"Really?"

"Really," Polly said with a laugh. "As many times as you and your pals take care of me, I can do this. Go ahead. Take the kittens and go. Do you want me to wait a minute and open the bedroom door after you've gone?"

Beryl looked up and rolled her eyes. "I'd have totally forgotten about her. Would you?"

"Of course. I'll wait until you're out the door. But tonight when you come back in, you're on your own, okay?"

"Would Thing One and Thing Two be awfully strange for their names?" Beryl asked.

"They're your babies. Name them whatever you want."

Beryl shook her head. "No, that doesn't fit. I need more time." She stood up. "They are awfully cute, aren't they?"

"Yes they are. You know you're going to have a blast, right?"

"All I know is that you failed me in my hour of need."

"Whatever," Polly said. "Now get to work. You have a canvas calling. I can hear it from here."

Beryl gave her a quick hug. "Thanks for talking me down. Lydia would have made me take them to the Humane Society or something and Andy would have called me crazy."

"You are crazy and Lydia would not have made you give them away. You know that."

"You’re wrong there," Beryl said. "She knows how busy I am and how often I leave town. But they're cats and they'll learn to put up with my cat sitters. Right?"

"I know a few kids who would love to come check on your cats for you when you're out of town. Don't worry, Beryl. We'll help where we can."

"Okay. I'm skedaddling." Beryl picked up the basket. "Don't tell anyone that I'm a crazy cat lady, okay?"

"No promises."

~~~

"I can't believe he's dead," Henry said, putting dinner plates into the cupboard. "All those years of him being the keeper of the secrets of Springer House and now he's gone."

Polly handed him glasses from the dishwasher. "If it's going on the market next week, it does seem odd. Once that place is sold and fixed up, he would have become superfluous. Without the battered look of the place, who would believe a ghost lives there."

Henry chuckled. "Maybe the new owners when they have to put up with Muriel's shenanigans."

She leaned her hip against the counter and glared at him. "Don't you start."

"I've spent my entire life hearing about Muriel Springer. I can’t get rid of her that easily."

"Whatever," Polly said. "I haven't heard of one person who's actually seen her."

"Rebecca says she did."

Polly lowered her voice. "Rebecca is an impressionable seventh grader. Who knows what she saw."

"Do you think the chanting spirit callers are up there again tonight?" Henry asked.

"Probably." Polly slammed the silverware drawer shut. "I'll bet they're staying at the inn! I wonder what Grey has found out about them. You know he talks to everyone and this would be a great conversation for him to have. Could one of them be the killer?"

"Not unless they were here when Jeremy Booten died. I thought they just got into town last weekend," he said.

"Oh." She huffed out a breath. "It was a good idea, though. Maybe they've talked to people who might know something."

He laughed and closed the dishwasher door. "Maybe you need to get out there tomorrow and chat it up with them." Henry tossed the dishtowel he'd tucked into his waist band at her. "And I have football to watch. You can find me in our room."

"Wait," Polly said. "How did he do today?"

Henry nodded toward the living room where Heath was working on homework and Rebecca was working on something in her sketchbook. "Heath?"

"Yeah. At work. How did that go?"

"He did fine. It's nice having someone fresh show up at the end of the day. There are cleanup errands he can run and it gives the guys time to prepare for the next day."

"So every night of the week?" she asked.

He grinned. "No. Mondays and Wednesdays for now. I won't take Friday nights away from him and besides, we try to wrap up work and get out early anyway. He'll help Grey on Tuesdays and Saturdays."