Stolen Dreams (9 page)

Enraged, Mary knew that she needed to calm down before she
began her drive back to Freeport.
 
She
stormed past her car and walked down the narrow paths that wound their way
throughout the facility. “Carnal woman?” she muttered angrily. “Who the he…”
She paused, recalling where she was and inhaled sharply. “…heck is she to call
anyone anything?”

Striding forward, her mind distracted with the conversation
she’d just had, she hadn’t noticed where she was walking and was surprised to
find herself at the entrance to a small cemetery hidden in the midst of the
gardens.
 
The old, wrought-iron, double
gates were open and Mary stepped through to the well-manicured lawn and
collection of ancient and modern headstones.
 
The anger left her body as she stepped forward on the sacred ground,
feeling an overwhelming calm and peace.

In the middle of the cemetery was a large, bronze statue of
the Virgin Mary, her hands outstretched and a patient and loving smile on her
face. “I wonder how she would feel about the term carnal
woman?
”
Mary muttered as she moved closer.

“She would have hated it.”

Mary turned to find the old nun from earlier standing just
behind her. “I think you’re right,” Mary agreed. “I think she would have felt compassion
for the young women who found themselves pregnant and unmarried.”

Nodding, Sister Bernadette turned away from the statue and
glided across the cemetery to a collection of small gravestones on the farthest
edge. Mary followed her and was dismayed to find a collection of infant graves hidden
under the shade of one of the giant, oak trees. “These were the ones we couldn’t
save,” Sister Bernadette said, a translucent tear slipping down her cheek.

“Why so many?”
Mary asked.

“We were not skilled, not prepared for the complications of
some of the births,” she explained.

“But you could have called doctors or midwives,” Mary replied.

“We were told that by the time they would have reached us…” she
began and then she sighed deeply. “But we will never know, will we?”

“The girls?”
Mary asked horrified.

The nun glided a little farther away and Mary followed,
looking down on several rows of small, very plain gravestones with the names of
the young girls listed upon them. “Didn’t anyone stop this?” she asked.

Lifting her head, regret in her eyes, Sister Bernadette shook
her head. “No one,” she said sadly. “These girls and their children were
forgotten.”

Mary shook her head. “No, the children were not forgotten,”
Mary replied firmly. “Their mothers never forgot them. And they need to know
the truth.”

Shaking her head, the old nun began to fade away. “Sometimes
the truth carries too much pain,” she whispered.

“Sometimes you need pain to start the healing process,” Mary
countered before the ghost faded away completely.

“You!” an angry voice cried out. “What are you doing here?”

Mary turned to see Mother Superior striding through the
cemetery towards her. “You do not belong here,” she continued. “This is private
property.”

“I didn’t see a ‘No Trespassing’ sign,” Mary said.

“Well, this is sacred ground,” the nun replied. “Not a
tourist venue.”

Mary folded her arms across her chest and rested them on her
belly. “It seems more like a crime scene to me,” Mary said, “with the evidence
of years of criminal negligence being covered up.”

“You have absolutely no proof,” the nun responded
immediately. “And unless you have some kind of warrant, I demand you leave
immediately.”

Mary stood her ground for another moment, facing the angry
nun, then slowly nodded and walked past her.
 
When she was just behind her she whispered, “It’s going to be a lot
harder to destroy this evidence than it is to burn a few records.
 
If I were you, I wouldn’t want to be found
purposely impeding an investigation.
 
They do put nuns in jail, you know.”

As Mary drove back to her office contemplating the options
she had available to get the records, including a brief consideration of
breaking and entering, she was interrupted in her musings by another call
coming through on her cell phone. “Mary O’Reilly,” she answered, not
recognizing the number.

“You’re not in your office,” was the curt response.

She immediately recognized the voice as belonging to Sol
Atkinson, and her heart rate increased just a little.
 
She had to admit the man understood the art
of intimidation, but she was not going to allow herself to be bullied.
 
“No, I’m not,” she replied evenly. “I’m
working on a case.”

“I paid you to be here today,” he countered. “So we could
discuss my case.”

“I didn’t agree to anything like that, Mr. Atkinson,” she
answered calmly. “And, your check has remained uncashed and on my desk where
you placed it.”

“You’re playing games with me,” he said. “And if you don’t
change your tune soon, I’ll report you.”

“To whom?” she asked, now amused with his blustering.

“To the Better Business Bureau,” he offered.

She chuckled. “I don’t think my business fits under any of their
categories,” she replied.

“Well then, if you’re really a private investigator you have
to work under the auspices of the local law enforcement agency,” he said. “How
would you like me to report you to the chief of police for fraud?”

As much as she would have loved to tell him that she was
married to the chief of police, she knew the only way she would be able to
solve Marty’s murder was to play along with the obnoxious bully. “I don’t think
we need to get the police involved,” she said. “And I’ve actually been thinking
about your case. However, if I take your case there would have to be some
stipulations.”

“Like what?” he growled suspiciously.

“I have a colleague,” she began, “who is quite famous in the
field of paranormal investigation.
 
If
you know anything about the field, you’ve probably heard his name, Professor
Ian MacDougal
the founder
and head of the MacDougal Foundation for Paranormal Research.”

“Um, yeah, of course I’ve heard of the guy,” he replied
slowly.
“Friend of yours?”

“Ian and I have worked on some cases together,” she
answered. “He’s actually here in the States doing some research on haunted
houses and I thought he might be interested in having a look at yours.
 
Of course, you’d have to sign some papers
allowing him to publish the name and location of your house in his academic
journals with the understanding that the information could be picked up by
mainstream media.”

“Mainstream media, eh?” he repeated.

“Oh, yes, Ian has quite a following,” she said. “
Which is why we have to make sure people understand they could be
inundated with people who are interested in the paranormal.
”

“Inundated, huh?” he said slowly.

Mary could almost hear the drooling in his voice. She had
laid out the perfect bait. Now all she had to do was wait for him to bite.

“Well, I
ain’t
paying you any
extra,” he argued weakly.

“Oh, well, that’s the other thing,” she said. “If Ian’s
going to study your house, we can’t accept any payment. That would make his
findings look suspicious and we need to maintain an objective and unprejudiced
approach.”
 

“I don’t have to pay you?” he asked incredulously.

“No, not a single penny,” she replied.

“Okay, well then, yeah, I guess your friend can come take a
look, too,” he said. “You know, ‘
cause
he’s sure to
find some good stuff, some real good stuff when he’s here at my house.
 
Did I tell you that it’s one of the top ten
haunted houses in the country?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you did mention that,” she
replied, biting back a chuckle. “And I’m sure that information is what piqued Ian’s
interest.”

“Well, actually, it’s probably more like the top five or
even the top three,” he said, his voice rising with excitement.

“Well, I’ll be sure to let him know,” Mary said. “He’ll be
arriving in town this evening and will probably want to set up his equipment
tomorrow morning, if that works for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be there,” he said. “Tomorrow morning is
fine.”

“I’ll send you a text tonight when I know what time we’ll
arrive,” Mary added. “So, if you could send me the address of your house, I’d
appreciate it.”

“Okay, I’ll send it and then wait to hear from you,” he
replied and then he disconnected the call.

“The rat has taken the bait,” Mary said softly and suddenly
felt that her day had become a whole lot better.

“And what do we have here?” Ian asked as he walked into
Mary’s office that afternoon and spied her in the back of the room. “Ah dinnae
ken when I’ve seen you more beautiful, and that’s saying a lot.”

Hurrying across the room, Mary threw her arms around Ian and
hugged him. “It’s so wonderful to see you,” she said.

He returned the hug and then put his hands on her shoulders
and stepped back to look at her. “And what, may I ask, have you been up to
young lady to get yourself in such a state?” he asked with a grin.

“I’ll never tell,” she replied.

“Well, darling, you don’t have to tell,” he said. “The look
on your face and the slight swelling of your belly is telling the story on its
own.”

Her smile dropped to a pout. “So, are you saying I look
fat?” she asked, lowering her face to cover the twinkle in her eye.

“Ah, no, darling,” Ian quickly replied. “You’re gorgeous,
svelte and brimming with beauty.”

She looked up at him and allowed the smile to show. “And
you’re a charmer,” she said.

He blew out a sigh of relief. “And you nearly had me beside
meself
with worry that I’d gone and stuck me foot in
me
mouth once again,” he said, giving her another hug. “And
how are you feeling?”

“Simply wonderful,” she said.
“Although
Bradley seems a bit more protective of me.”

“As well he should,” Ian said. “Especially when you’re
dealing with someone who sounds like he’d do anything to make money.”

“Yes, this fellow is a real winner,” she said. “But before
we go into the case, tell me, how are you and Gillian doing?”

The smile on his face was wide and a little goofy.
He’s certainly in love
, Mary thought.

“It just gets better,” he replied with awe in his voice. “Do
you ever worry that it’s just too good to be true and the bottom is going to
fall out on you at any moment?”

She nodded. “Yes, I have,” she confessed. “But perhaps
that’s the Celtic attitude of always looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

He grinned. “Aye, that’s the truth of it,” he agreed,
walking with her over to her desk.
 
He
held her chair out for her and pulled up another one so he was seated beside
her so they could both view her computer screen. “Now, tell me a little about
this case.”

After Mary explained the details, Ian sat back in his chair
and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, it’s more than a bit ironic that
he created a real ghost but the poor ghost didn’t have a clue how to haunt the
house.”

Mary nodded. “Poor Marty doesn’t realize what’s going on,”
she said. “And I don’t know how he’s going to handle it when he finds out that
Sol murdered him. That is, of course, if I’m right about the situation.”

“Aye, and given the facts you’ve shared, I feel you have the
right of it,” he replied. “So what’s the next step?”

Mary clicked on another tab and brought up photos of the
house in Pearl City. “This is the house,” she said.

“Well, it looks like it should be haunted,” Ian said.

“Yes, it really does,” she agreed. “I thought we could set
up some of your equipment, not that it really needs to be all cabled together.”

“Ah, to set the scene,” he said.

Nodding, she flipped to the next picture of the interior of
the house.
 
“We could set up cameras,
monitors and sensors,” she said. “And then…”

She paused and worried her bottom lip for a moment.

“Yes?” Ian asked.

“Well, I really don't have a plan,” she admitted.

“What?” he exclaimed.

“Not a real plan,” she inserted before he could continue. “I’m
thinking we could do some kind of a set up.
 
  
We could use Mike and maybe
Marty if he’s willing to go along with it.
 
We would move things around, get things going and then do something to
put Sol into a position where he blurts out that he killed Marty.”

“Okay, partially brilliant idea,” Ian said slowly, “except
that you have a man who’s already killed once for profit.
 
What’s to keep him from taking both of us out
to keep his secret quiet and add to his house’s ghost collection?”

“Okay, I haven’t figured the plan out that far,” she said.

“Well, that’s an important part to figure,” Ian said.
“Vitally important.”

Mary sat back in her chair and sighed. “So, do you have any
ideas?” she asked.

“Aye, but I need to talk to Marty and see what he’s willing
to do before I share it with you,” he said.

“Okay, tonight after dinner,” Mary said. “I’ll see if I can
reach Marty and we can all chat.”

Ian chuckled, leaned over and placed a kiss on Mary’s cheek.
“And that’s what I’ve been missing from me life lately,” he said with a grin, “an
average night at Mary O’Reilly’s house including dinner and a chat with a dead
man.”