The Widow's Walk (5 page)

Chapter 7

Liz dragged herself up the porch steps. She dreaded facing Mike.

He came down the stairs looking much better than he had that morning, but absent his usual smile and welcoming embrace.

“How are you feeling? Did you go to the doctor?” Liz hung her coat in the closet.

“No, but Sandra made me one of those elixirs to fix what ails me.”

Her stomach lurched. “Did you tell her anything about what happened?” What if Mike found out about Sandra’s book and all the details about Jared’s trial and its aftermath? It was so old, out of print, and she’d figured he’d never see it. Why had she gone into that shop?

Mike was strangely subdued, like he was hiding something. “No, but she said other occupants consulted her with complaints of strange smells, cold mists.”

Best to be nonchalant. “The broker told me something about past reports of hauntings. Please don’t bring this up to anyone. Jay and Bill Jeffers are like bloodhounds sniffing for any skeleton they can pull out of a closet to use against me.”

“This is to make up for the way I acted last night.” Mike pulled a small box out of his pocket.

So, he felt guilty about the tantrum. Liz opened it and lifted out the milky white stone on a chain. It wasn’t particularly pretty, but the thin veins of color running through it intrigued her. She turned it over in her palm, ran her finger over it. “What is it?”

“Read the card.” Mike lifted the cotton lining and handed her the explanation.
Moonstone, a stone of fertility and of carnal communication has an aphrodisiac effect. It enhances growth in children and slows the degeneration of aging. Those born under the sign of Capricorn will find it easier to express their emotions when wearing the stone. Cancer’s eroticism will be strengthened. Pisces ability to concentrate will be helped by looking at this stone for one minute, three times a day.

Was she making his life so miserable he’d resort to talismans, magic tricks? Carnal communication, aphrodisiacs? What had he told that woman about her? How did Sandra know her birthday? “You didn’t have to buy me anything.” He looked like a dog who’d had its bone taken away. “Sandra picked it out for you. It matches my key chain.”

“Mike, we don’t have any extra for gifts right now. My paycheck isn’t going to be steady, and I don’t know how I’m going to make payroll and pay bills next month. And besides, I told you that woman is up to something.”

He fastened the charm around her neck. “I’ll be back to fishing in no time.”

Maybe it was her imagination, but the jewel warmed her throat where it touched the skin. She slid the stone across the chain and back a couple of times, resisting the temptation to rip it off. “I don’t want you out on Cape Cod Bay.”

Elisabeth awoke
. That’s right, no good ever comes from being on the Bay.

Mike put both hands behind his head and leaned back into the sofa cushions. “Like I’ve said before, we could sell this house and move into mine. It’s paid for, smaller, cheaper to heat.”

It seemed like he’d forgotten, but obviously hadn’t. “This house is paid for, too. Thanks to Gerry’s estate planning. I am not going to allow my son and that miserable attorney to ruin my business.”

Mike’s expression hardened. “Then maybe the crystals will keep Elisabeth away so we don’t have to experience something like last night again. Eventually, we’re going to have to move out.” He waved both arms and exited.

Elisabeth spun like a dancer. Liz grabbed her abdomen. It felt like she was pregnant again, that the ghost was fighting to be born.

Jared promised, swore that he wouldn’t put me out. Edward will put this right. Go to him-now.

All right, Elisabeth. I’ll go up in a minute, but no dress.
If Liz resisted there would be another scene tonight. She waited until Mike’s footsteps disappeared. No front door creaking. He was likely in the parlor playing with Eddie. Or in the kitchen getting a snack.

Liz ran to the attic door and negotiated the rickety stairs, hesitating on one near the top that sagged enough she feared it would break. If she asked Kevin to fix it then he’d surmise she was going up there.

The door swung open and Elisabeth flew to the railing, heedless of the icy puddles on the floor. Cold wind whipped her hair into a frenzy. She stepped back in case someone was in the front yard, but the way the house was constructed there was a clear view of the widow’s walk from every vantage point. The handrail quivered as she leaned forward to check the front yard. It was not sturdy enough to be safe, but until the ghost settled she dared not go back downstairs.

All Elisabeth knew was the compulsion. All Liz knew was that the more she did this, the more trouble she’d stir up. Liz took a deep draft of the icy air. The roiling in her gut stopped. Exhaustion washed over her. A chill settled in her bones. She fingered the moonstone pendant. She was a Capricorn; it might help her think this through.

A promise is a promise, Jared. You assured me I could stay here forever.

“All right, Elisabeth. We’re not selling the house, but this is the last time I’m coming up here. The last time
.

She can’t be alone
, Jared insisted.

Mike tried to ignore the ruminations scrolling through his head. He paced, looked out the window. A dim night light shone through the window of his vacant house. It would be so much more peaceful there. “Screw it.” He went across the hall.

“Can I come in?” Mike poked his head into the bedroom.

Liz looked over the top of her reading glasses. “I never told you to go sleep in the guest room.”

“I miss you, and I missed giving Eddie his bath and putting him to bed.” He had his own ghost troubles and secrets and couldn’t fault only her. And he’d acted like a lunatic last night. “I needed a break, some uninterrupted sleep.”

The pendant dangled just above the cleavage of her breasts. She was wearing it, despite her misgivings. She looked as enticing as ever. But he wasn’t getting hard.

Maybe it was the terrible cold, but could Sandra have put something strange in that brandy? He probably shouldn’t be taking that crap at all.

“Are you going to join me?” Liz looked sideways at him with the furthest thing from come hither in her eyes. More like ‘let me sharpen my claws first.’

“Do you want me to?”

Liz put the book down and took off her glasses. “I don’t appreciate you haranguing me to sell the house.”

This wasn’t working. Mike sat down on the bed and brushed her arm. “Admit it. The ghosts are taking us over, running the show.”

“A couple of appearances doesn’t mean they’re in control. We are.” She pounded her fist on the bed.

“Sandra does paranormal investigations. Maybe she can help get rid of them.”

Jared bucked. Mike tried to ignore his guts twisting.

Liz slammed her book closed. “Sandra is itching to get into this house. But Marianne Hartley told me she suspects Jay hired a private investigator. The last thing I need is this patch of dirt dug up. That slug Jeffers would be crawling all over the pile.”

Mike tried not to laugh. “Why the hell would Jay or Jeffers hire someone to spy on us?”

She jumped out of bed. “We own a haunted house and both of us have been visiting a witch. Imagine trying to explain all this to a judge. It wouldn’t be the first time that I have to sit in public and face my son bringing a legal challenge to my competence, and I don’t expect it would be the last.”

Jared kicked him in the butt.
She can’t be trusted.

Mike squared off against her before he realized it. “I’m sick of you refusing to consider any possible solutions.”

“And I asked you not to go into that shop again. But you did.”

“I don’t want to fight, especially before bed. I came in to apologize, but it seems like you’re not accepting it.” Mike got the hell out, closed the door behind him, and exhaled to blow away whatever specter might be following him back to the guest room.
Shut up, damn it. You’re making this worse. Leave me alone. Leave us alone
.

Chapter 8

Premium cable “triple play”–that could be cut back. Too bad. Mae loved the cooking shows, and both Kevin and Mike enjoyed the sports. Gas and electric: all the rooms not in regular use were closed off. Doctor’s visits: unavoidable, the baby needed his shots. Mike needed to get that cough attended to.

The only way to make a sizable dent was to cut the payroll. But how could she ask Kevin and Mae to forego their salaries when they had taken on babysitting and fishing? All right, she paid for all their food, and they were living in the cottage rent free. The option was not having a house or a job.

It was the only way to cover this month’s bills. Unless . . .
Damn, I need to pick up the phone and call Marianne Hartley to find out what’s going on. Why am I shy about asking for my own money?

The mailman’s Jeep whirred in the gravel down by the mailbox. Liz ran out to the side of the road, her heart thudding as hard as her footsteps on the frozen drive. An insurance bill sat on top of the pile.

Shit, that’s almost a thousand dollars I’d forgotten about.
She was nauseous by the time she got to the bottom. Nothing from the lawyer, no checks, just credit card offers, catalogs with smiling middle-aged models, looking just like she used to, wearing flannel shirts and cashmere sweaters. And more bills. How long would her credit rating stay good? What was the grace period on the insurance policy?

Mike decided day-to-day whether he could work while battling that miserable cold. The schools hadn’t called. Was this some kind of conspiracy? Liz ran the rest of the way back, rubbing both arms, hunched forward against the wind off the bay–and the hurricane of troubles blowing her way.

She shuddered. Eddie was going to get sick, too. She’d have to raise the heat a few degrees or risk spending even more on doctor bills and medicines. Poor Mike was still hacking . . . Liz ran to her desk, grabbed the phone, and dialed the principal at Cape Cod Tech.

“Mr. Peabody’s office.”

She couldn’t recall the secretary’s name. “Hi, this is Liz Keeny. I don’t know if you remember me.”

“Of course, Mrs. Keeny. Let me put you through.”

Within a minute he picked up. “Hello, Liz.”

She tried to keep the desperation out of her voice. “Mr. Peabody, I was wondering if everything was all right with my performance. I haven’t gotten any calls from anyone in the district.”

“You bailed me out of a tough situation, and I put out the good word. But we just got this mandate to decrease spending and are trying to cover classes with our regular staff. I was in the classroom myself last week. Let me call a few principals and see what I can do.”

The economy was whacking everyone in the butt. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Liz.” He hung up.

When didn’t she have a perpetual sense of despair, of desperation, pulling her down? Her heart pounded, her skin itched. Never in her entire life had Liz been so desperate for money.

Elisabeth stirred.
I was so desperate to stay in my home I married a man who was a stranger. Jared promised I’d be able to stay in this house.

Liz didn’t even replace the receiver, and didn’t need to look up Marianne’s number. Three rings later, the automated system clicked on. She pushed one, for If you are an attorney or calling on behalf of one . . .’

Sure enough, Marianne herself answered. “Ms. Hartley.”

“Marianne, it’s Liz, Liz Keeny.”
Please, please let there be good news. The check was lost in the mail and she’ll send another one right away . . .

“Liz, I’ve been meaning to call you, but was holding off until I had all the details.” Marianne’s voice sounded like the doctor who had given them the results of Gerry’s lung biopsy.

She wasn’t going to die a painful death, but the news wasn’t good. “What’s the holdup now, Marianne? Things are getting very difficult, and I haven’t had any income from the partnership distribution for months.”

“I’m afraid there is none forthcoming. The independent auditor I hired to investigate Bill Jeffers found a lot of creative accounting, as I suspected. But it seems that Bill did a good job of hiding the money, too. He’s been embezzling from several clients, not only you. Now we’ve got a criminal matter involving several plaintiffs all represented by different attorneys. This is going to take a while to sort out, and it looks like we may have to opt for a class-action settlement.”

“A settlement? I’m counting on every penny!” Her chest hurt, she found it hard to breathe, to talk.

“Liz, please, calm down. I understand how desperate you are, but once it becomes a criminal case it’s not about just you. I have been trying to get you paid but there are so many claims against the partnership the judge has put a hold on all disbursements.”

“Is that mother fucker in jail?” She had never used that language in her life but it seemed to suit Bill Jeffers just fine. Too bad it didn’t make her feel any better.

“Not yet. He’s got an attorney trying to keep him out since all his assets are frozen and he won’t be able to make bail.”

Her sadness the law firm Gerry had built was going under got lost in the anger. “What about the new partner, what the hell is his name, Saltzman?”

“Saltzman, right. He seems to be clean and is still working. That keeps the firm solvent, but none of his income will help unless you join the class action. Under the terms of the partnership agreement your proceeds are based upon income from Gerry’s old clients. Since the firm’s reputation has been badly damaged, they’re pulling out completely and jumping on the every-man-for-himself bandwagon. You all have lost escrow, retainers . . .”

Retainers. Oh, God, I have to pay Marianne’s installment . . .
The lawyer’s words faded into Liz’s sobs. She dropped the receiver. Her fingers and toes disappeared. A fog swirled around her. She fell to her knees.

“Liz? Liz, are you all right?” Marianne sounded like she was underwater.

“Mary, Mother of God what’s wrong?” Mae ran into the room and skidded onto her knees next to Liz.

Her words blended with the attorney’s frantic maydays into a cacophony, including Eddie howling from somewhere.

Mae grabbed the phone. “Who the hell is this, and what did ya say to her?”

Marianne’s voice through the receiver was like an old-fashioned 33 rpm record set on 78. Liz’s vision blurred, she gasped for breath as Elisabeth’s desperation squeezed the life out of her.

“All right. I’m sorry. Let me get things under control and I’ll be sure to call ya right back. Lizzy, Eddie is alone in the high chair in the kitchen. We need to go back before he falls out. Please, get yourself together.”

Elisabeth writhed in her own agony.
Edward told me to stay here
. The baby’s pitiful wails penetrated the protestations in Liz’s ears. Mae helped her up. She held onto the walls for balance. Mike had been willing to sacrifice his own well-earned retirement for her, but the Barrett Inn was lost.

Liz paced. Her arms tight around her chest were the only things keeping Elisabeth inside. Every muscle ached. “This house was paid for using the entire lump sum from Gerry’s life insurance payments. Any savings I had was exhausted by the restoration. That partnership money would have been about $100,000.00 a year. I didn’t do anything irresponsible, did I?

“Mike has been working his hands off, and look at the condition he’s in. He wants to sell this house and go live in his. But you and Kevin . . . Eddie . . .

“My own son did this to me. If he hadn’t had the assets frozen when I first bought the house, I would have salvaged at least some of it.” Liz could hear herself talking while Elisabeth agitated like a washer filled to capacity on the heavy-duty cycle.

Mae nodded like a shrink, her brow furrowed with worry. She tried to distract Eddie by tapping a rubber pretzel on his tray. “Just calm down, please. When Mike and Kevin get home we’ll all sit down and figure this out. First off, stop payin’ us right off. We live in the cottage for free and eat plenty of food. We don’t need money for nothin’ else. And the health insurance, well let it go. We’re both healthy.”

Her insides felt bruised. It hurt to talk. “Mae, that might help temporarily, but . . .”

“Hush. It will work out. It will. Nothing to go off the pier over, ya understand?” Mae’s grip hand tightened, her eyes filled with tears.

“I would never do anything to hurt myself.” The way Elisabeth flailed, Liz wasn’t sure about that. But Edward wouldn’t want his son left motherless, and Elisabeth would surely settle when he made that clear. If he could. If he would.

“Good. Now I promised to call that poor lawyer back. What’s the number?” Mae picked up the phone. “Never mind, it’s on the call log.”

I’ll call her back later, Mae.”
I have to get out of here.

Go to Edward, now!
I need to speak with Edward.

“Ms. Hartley, Mae Fitzgerald. She’s okay, wants to talk to ya.” Mae thrust the receiver at Liz, took Eddie out of chair, and to the door. “I’ll give ya some privacy.”

“Marianne, I’m sorry . . .” Liz was still tingling all over. Breathing too fast made it worse. Elisabeth sat on her chest, pounded on her head.   “God, Liz. Me, too. Listen, you know I’m working as hard as I can on your behalf.”

“I know you are. This couldn’t have come at a worse time for me financially.” She needed to get off the damn phone and up to the widow’s walk or Elisabeth was going to knock her out.

“Liz I can prepare a letter for your creditors, letting them know about the situation. They will often restructure things so you can make payments. And, of course, don’t even think twice about my fee.”

Her heart threatened to fly out of her throat. “Marianne, listen. I need to take a walk, to think, to talk to my husband. Can I call you back tomorrow?”

“Of course. Are you sure you’re okay? Is Mae still there?”  

“Yes, she’s helping with the baby. Mike will be home soon.” Yeah, make it sound like she could really talk to any of them about this.

“All right, I speak to you at ten tomorrow.”

“Bye.” Liz punched the off button and ran down the hall.

Mae was playing with Eddie on the parlor floor.

“I’m going upstairs to take something for this headache and have a nap.” The lies just rolled off her tongue now.

Mae looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Ya sure yer okay? Promise that ya goin’ to tell me if yer feeling real bad?”

“Yes, Mae, I promise.”

I have to get up there. I have to get up there.

All right Elisabeth, please. What can Edward do? It’s only money. It’s only a house.
Liz took the stairs two at a time and slammed her bedroom door shut.

She slipped the dress over her head. Silk tumbled around her feet. It was always a challenge to do up the buttons in the back, but she’d worked out a system, leaving several of the lower ones buttoned when she slipped it on. Her arms were nimble enough, and so what if she missed a few or they were buttoned wrong? Just like a homeless psychotic.

She worked the boot hook like her grandmother did a crochet needle. A hat today, it was cold. She gathered her hair up into a bun to hold it in place. Her heart was still pounding, but Elisabeth was appeased, triumphant.

The ghost enveloped her, hijacking her body as well as her mind. Memories flickered through her head.

The ship lurched in the wintry seas. She went out on deck to watch waves break over the bow. Sea spray crystallized by the cold stung her face. The water looked like black tea topped with a smattering of clotted cream. Elisabeth imagined Edward’s corpse beneath the surface, his face bloated, blue, contorted. She grasped the gunnels for support as the ship swayed, envisioning the mayhem when
The Sea Mist
sank, taking all aboard to the bottom. Had it been quick, would it be quick, if she jumped, joined him in death? Would he be there to meet her, arms open, smiling? “You’d best come below, Elisabeth. It’s far too rough to be out here.” Jared pulled up the collar of her cloak, pulled her back to life, to reality.

His hand lingered on her neck, and when she turned couldn’t help but grimace as the stiff muscles once again went into spasm.

He massaged her gently. “It’s cold. Let’s go inside.”

The water was frigid. It would have been quick. After that, she'd lost her nerve. When it finally happened, she hadn’t been trying to kill herself–at least not consciously. Any sane person knows walking into Cape Cod Bay in the middle of the night, even in summer, is suicide. But Edward was calling and she had to go. Jared had broken his promise. The house would be sold. She’d be taken away from here, from Edward. Strangers would come into their bedroom once again.

Cold wind slapped Liz out of the trance When had she walked out of her room, down the hall, and up the steep stairs? The creaky door hadn’t jogged her out of delirium. Her hands went numb, her cheeks burned.

Ice caked on the wooden floor. Liz slipped. The rail wobbled when she grabbed on to steady herself. Cape Cod Bay–a steel gray expanse of nothingness today—roiled in the distance. A howling wind—and the ghost’s steely resolve blew away any resistance.

Elisabeth held the hat steady in the wind and raised her chin, craving Edward’s caress on her throat. And it was there, as always. His whispers were drowned out by the gusts whipping around her. Why was it she could never hear him clearly? Even the night she died, his voice was muffled, his instructions, entreaties, admonitions kept from her.
“Edward, please. Tell me what to do.”
Elisabeth rattled the railing like a caged gorilla desperate to escape.

Edward’s whisper swirled in the wind. “
Go back inside where it’s safe, my love. Jared is caring for you and the baby now.”

The wind stilled. An eerie silence closed around her. “
Don’t go. Please don’t leave me!”
Elisabeth pounded the top of the rail over and over.

Pain seared up Liz’s wrist to the elbow. “Elisabeth, we must go back down.” She rubbed her arm, fought to regain control while quaking in the wind.

“No."
Elisabeth grabbed the rail again and shook it. Icicles pinged like small daggers around the high-button shoes.