Rest in Pieces (13 page)

Read Rest in Pieces Online

Authors: Katie Graykowski

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Cozy, #Crafts & Hobbies, #Romance, #Romantic Comedy, #Romantic Suspense, #Mystery & Suspense, #Suspense, #Mystery, #Contemporary, #kindergarten, #children, #elementary school, #PTO, #PTA

BOOK: Rest in Pieces
3.83Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

“Like we care.” Monica squeezed back.

“It’s not like people think you took the money.” Haley forced a smile. Oh hell, that’s exactly what people thought. I looked around at my small guesthouse rental. The joke was on them.

There was a light knock at my front door and then Haley’s nanny Anise opened the door. “Here’s the food.”

Anise was a short, plump girl with a British accent. When I first met her, she’d proudly told me that she was from Surrey…wherever that was.

“I took the liberty of having her pick up some dinner.” Haley stood and took some of the sandwiches from Anise. “Tucci’s subs.”

Because Austin had outlawed plastic bags, even the ones used for takeout food, all of the butcher paper–wrapped sandwiches were loose.

Anise would also be watching the kids this evening. Monica and I had insisted on paying her extra for the extra kids. At first, she’d refused to accept it, but we’d been persistent.

Haley handed out sandwiches to the kids. “I got the kiddos all ham and cheese with nothing else.” She walked over to the table. “I got the adults all Italian Classics.”

My favorite food on the evening that I’d just learned the worst news. Friends were amazing.

“Cool.” Monica took her sandwich and unwrapped it. “I’m starving.”

I took mine and did the same. “Thanks for telling me the truth.”

I wish they’d done it earlier, but I understood why they didn’t. I’d had to deal with some pretty terrible things and I don’t know what I would have done if I’d known about David’s thievery.

We ate in silence.

After the dinner trash was thrown away and I’d wiped down the kitchen table, Haley, Monica and I put on our coats and headed for the main house. It was a good quarter of a mile down a winding gravel path, so we trudged in the dark forty–degree weather.

“How long does this usually take?” Monica stuck her hands in her front jeans pockets. “I’ve got last week’s episode of
Castle
DVR’d and I’m dying to watch it.”

“Oh, it’ s a good one.” My breath clouded out in front of me. “The séance takes about an hour. Usually, I turn my phone on silent and play solitaire. As long as I chant every once in a while, no one is the wiser.”

“How many people come?” Haley pulled her coat tighter around her.

“Two or three. Mitzy Lange, Eloise Dunlap, and sometimes Donnalee Murphy if her son didn’t hide her car keys well enough.” I pulled my collar up to shield my ears from the wind.

“What do you mean if her son didn’t hide her keys?” Monica shivered.

“Donnalee is as blind as a bat, but instead of taking away her caddy like he should, her son just hides her keys. Spineless. Really, she’s going to hurt someone someday.” I looked back at Monica. “She can barely see over the dash.”

A loud bang sounded from the direction of the garage. “Sounds like her son didn’t do that great a job hiding her car keys. Donnalee just hit the retaining wall again.”

A cloud of dust illuminated by headlights floated up over the garage.

“Damn, it’s kinda hard to miss that wall, it being twenty feet tall and painted blood red.” Monica watched the cloud. “How blind is she?”

“It’s hard to say. She comes when you call her, but she runs into the wall a lot. Astrid has that huge mural of a Tuscan village in her dining room, and Donnalee is always trying to walk through the painted doorway. She runs into the wall, backs up, runs into the wall, backs up, over and over again. It’s kind of like watching a blind dog trying to find the door to the backyard.”

“And she’s behind the wheel of a car?” Monica shook her head. “Crazy rich people.”

“Ms. Donnalee is a sweet lady.” Haley said. “When she’s not behind the wheel or handing out trick or treat candy. Last year she got confused and gave away all of her dog Buster’s toys. I’m told that Buster died a couple of days later—she kept throwing Hershey bars for him to fetch. To be fair, the toys and candy were on the same table.”

“A blind dog murderer.” Monica threw her hands up. “Fantastic, I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Buster was twelve years old, so it might have been natural causes.” Haley sounded so hopeful.

Monica patted her arm. “You go on thinking that if it gives you comfort. I’m planning on driving Donnalee home and then throwing her car keys in the lake.”

See, Monica doesn’t wait for the world to take care of things, she jumps right on in there and confiscates the car keys of a woman she’s never met. I admire that level of commitment.

“I should warn you…things can get weird.” That was the understatement of the century.

Monica stopped and looked back at me. “We’re headed to a séance; that by definition is weird.”

She had a point.

“I’m just saying that Astrid takes this very seriously. She even dresses for the part. There will be lots of silver sequins, purple velvet and crystal balls. Her headdress is supposed to be material from a voodoo priestess’s old dress. There are lots of candles, as electric lights aren’t conducive to communing with the spirits.” I was doing my best to prepare them, but honestly, nothing I said could prepare them.

“Do the spirits actually come?” Haley was completely serious.

Monica and I shared a look. It’s not that Haley was gullible, but she really wanted to believe this wasn’t a waste of time.

“Not that I’ve ever seen. Well, once the logs flickered in the fireplace, but that was because I threw a wad of paper in there. While they all chanted, I cleaned out my purse. I had to get rid of all those receipts some way.” Really, that was the closest the spirits have come to responding. Personally, I thought they were put off by all that silver sequins. There was nothing worse than an old woman dressed as a giant disco ball reflecting the light of a hundred burning candles. I’d often thought that Astrid could double as a lighthouse.

“I don’t know about her trying to contact Molly. It seems so…I don’t know…disrespectful.” Haley was worried about absolutely nothing.

“The only way Astrid is going to talk to Molly is if she dies and goes to heaven and finds her. Since that’s a one–way trip, I don’t think we’re going to get the message.” Man, the things I did for cheap rent.

We made it to the backdoor and I knocked.

Dulce, Astrid’s live–in housekeeper, answered the door.

“She’s in the séance room.” Dulce held the door and we stepped into the kitchen. “Miss Astrid is extra crazy today. This morning I caught her in the kitchen stirring something in my big Le Creuset pot. She claimed it was a voodoo recipe to summon the dead. I chased her out of the kitchen with my biggest chef’s knife.”

Her voice was monotone, like this was just an average day at the ranch.

I smiled at her. “Your burden is great, Kemosabe.”

She held her hand up for a high–five. “Wanna come over after she goes to bed tonight and turn all the living room furniture upside down again? She totally bought the living room poltergeist last time.”

“It’s a date.” I high–fived her.

The only thing sweet about Dulce was her name. She survived Astrid’s craziness by messing with her. Clearly that and her salary had been enough to keep her here for the last twenty years.

“Dulce, this is Monica.” I pointed to Monica. “And this is Haley.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dulce shook their hands. “Wanna come over and help with the furniture?”

“I wish I could.” Monica shrugged. “But it’s a school night. I’ve got to get my kiddo to bed or I’d totally help with the furniture flipping.”

“Me too.” Haley nodded. “Another time?”

“You bet.” Dulce winked. “You should see what I have planned for Thanksgiving. Last year the turkey came back to life and Miss Astrid became a vegetarian. This is the year of the vegetables. They’re going to sing the Halleluiah chorus. I can’t wait.”

“Her nephew is a prop guy in the movies.” I needed them to understand how detailed some of Dulce’s pranks were.

“He’s getting into special effects—you know the real stuff where stuff gets blown up and not that digital crap.” Dulce was very proud of her nephew.

An electronic bell rang like the kind used at the theater when act two is about to start. Yes, I’m familiar with the theater. At the tender age of five, I played Gretel in the Sound of Music at the Longview Community Theater. As you might have noticed, I was not snatched up by Broadway or Hollywood.

There was a loud blowing noise coming from the whole house speaker system like someone was testing it. “The séance will be starting in five minutes. Please make your way to the séance room.”

“It’s just like Dillard’s right before they close.” Haley looked around like she was trying to find the person from whom the announcement had come.

“I’ve tried to disconnect the whole house intercom system, but she keeps having it fixed. I threatened the last repair guy with his life if he ever fixed it again. One day, I’m going to make it stop permanently.” Dulce put one hand on her hip and shook her head. “It might take burning the house down, but I’m going to do it.”

“I admire that level of commitment.” Monica nodded. “If you’re not prepared to go all the way, why do something at all?”

“Exactly.” Dulce nodded in agreement. “If you’re going to play, go all in.”

The bell sounded again.

“You’d better go. Her Royal Weirdness doesn’t like to wait.” Dulce nodded in the direction of the living room. The séance room was just off of the living room in what the builder had probably intended to be a media room.

Astrid had wanted to convert her dining room into the séance room, but Dulce had put her foot down. Spirits weren’t allowed in her dining room or her kitchen. The rest of the house was fair game.

“It’s just through here.” I led the way to Crazytown.

I opened the door to the séance room, stood back, and let Monica and Haley take it all in. What had once been a normal fourteen by fourteen room, was now painted a dark red. Dozens of tiny octagonal mirrors had been glued to the wall at random intervals and black zodiac signs dotted the red painted ceiling.

“It’s like the
Amityville Horror
blood room, only sparkly.” Haley’s gazed darted around. “And creepier.”

“What’s with the mosquito net?” Monica pointed to the large, mosquito net canopied draped over the round séance table. “I wasn’t aware that dead people attracted mosquitoes.” She hunched her shoulders. “You know, after they’re buried and everything.”

“No idea.” I walked around the table looking for the opening to the mosquito net. I finally found the ties that held it closed and untied them. “I’ve always thought of this room as Astral Safari Meets Crazy–Assed Rich Lady. Dulce told me that she hired a Séance Consultant to help set up the room.”

“A Séance Consultant is a real thing?” Monica followed me into the mosquito tent.

“If my neighbor can have a Life Coach, why can’t she have a Séance Consultant?” Haley was right behind Monica.

“Mr. Earl has a Life Coach?” I couldn’t see her crotchety next–door–neighbor who was always out in his front yard measuring the grass with a ruler to make sure that all the blades were evenly cut would have a Life Coach.

“No, this is my neighbor down the street—Ava. You know, she’s the one who was married to that drummer in that rock band before he divorced her to marry that eighteen–year–old groupie.” Haley glanced up and noticed the black disco ball holding up the mosquito net.

“I thought she just married that strip mall developer.” Clearly I was behind on the gossip. “Have a seat.”

I pointed to the chairs on either side of me.

“She did, but he left her for his twenty–two–year–old receptionist.” Haley took the chair on my left. “Her Life Coach told her that she needed to get a job.”

“Crap, it must suck to be a washed up trophy wife. It’s not like that’s a long–term gig. I bet her resume is a little on the empty side. Marrying well really isn’t a saleable skill.” Monica’s eyebrows arched. “Or one she seems to be particularly good at.”

“Is that a crystal skull?” Haley stared at the centerpiece.

“Yep. Astrid claims that it’s one of the Mesoamerican crystal skulls from the British Museum and that she had to pay them some huge amount of money for it. I’m pretty sure she bought it off eBay.” I sat and tried to make myself comfortable in one of the world’s hardest chairs.

Monica sat on my right. “Where’d she get these chairs?”

“They’re from some European monastery. I asked if they had to sit on the floor now that she’d taken their chairs, but she didn’t think that was funny.” Come to think of it, Astrid didn’t think much of anything I did was funny, including my impersonation of a sprinkler head, and everyone knows it’s hilarious.

“Were they the Order of the Uncomfortable Chairs?” Monica wiggled around trying to find a comfy spot.

“If I can sit on these for one hour a week, you can brave it for one night.” I lowered my voice. “Wait until they start chanting and then grab a couple of handfuls of the mosquito net and bunch it up like a seat cushion. It works.”

“What’s with all of the candy?” Haley pointed to the large bowl of gummy cherries in front of her.

“Apparently the spirits like sweets. Astrid sets bowls of different kinds of candy out so that the spirits can choose. Those are Haribo Gummy Cherries she imports from Germany. They don’t have any high fructose corn syrup. It appears that the spirits are allergic to high fructose corn syrup.” Obviously, I’d been here too long because that didn’t sound so strange to me anymore.

“What about the peanut M&Ms in front of you. I pretty sure they have high fructose corn syrup and red dye number five.” Haley gestured to the bowl right in front of me.

“Max and I really like Peanut M&Ms. A couple of months ago when Astrid got on this anti–high fructose corn syrup kick, I told her about this re–occurring dream I’d had since childhood about Nigel, my spirit guide, talking to me about my dead grandmother. Unfortunately he stopped coming to me when the Peanut M&Ms disappeared. The next week they were back on the table.” I pulled a quart–sized Ziplock bag out of my back jeans pocket and filled the bag with Peanut M&Ms.

“Way to work the system.” Monica held a fist up for me to bump. I gave her a bump back, zipped up the bag, and hid it under the table. Later, when the séance was wrapping up, I’d tuck it in my waistband and pull my shirt out to cover the bag.

Other books

The Perfect Stranger by Jenna Mills
Ask The Dust by John Fante
Madeleine by Helen Trinca
Miss Katie's Rosewood by Michael Phillips
Falling by Kailin Gow
Nobody’s Girl by Kitty Neale
Rex Stout_Nero Wolfe 07 by Over My Dead Body