Town Haunts (14 page)

“Happy?” she
asked, her lips tickling his chest.

He stopped to
think about the past two tumultuous days. Tiernay was beautiful and
sexy as all get-out, but she was also demanding and needy.

“Hell, no,” he
replied, crushing her against him so that she wouldn’t get the
wrong idea.

“Perfect,” she
said.

Chapter
Sixteen

The following
morning, Anna left home early to catch Erna before mass. Gerry
would be bringing May over from the hospital just before lunch, so
there wouldn’t be time for a private chat with Erna after service.
Her friend was just shaking out the front hall mat when Anna
arrived, and asked her inside.

“There,
everything’s ready for May,” Erna said, leading her into the living
room. Anna peered around the room, catching a whiff of furniture
polish. It was a sunny, cheerful space with pale lemon walls, a
wood-burning fireplace surmounted by a white mantel, a
blue-and-white-striped couch, and a blue upholstered recliner. Erna
patted the couch beside her, inviting Anna to sit down.

“What brings
you out so early today? I didn’t expect to see you before
church.”

“I wanted to
talk to you before Gerry brings May. Something happened at the bank
yesterday that’s been worrying me, something that might have to do
with Sherman. I wanted to warn you to be careful with him.”

“What do you
mean?” Erna said with a frown.

Anna explained
about the problem that she had had with the counterfeit money.
“Don’t you think it’s strange, counterfeit money turning up at the
store the week that Sherman starts working there?”

Erna sighed.
“You’re thinking about the scandal at the bank while Sherman was
manager.”

Anna nodded.
“Maybe you’re wrong to suspect that Tiernay was responsible for
May’s fall. First the counterfeit money, and now another woman gets
hurt falling down the stairs. Maybe it’s not a coincidence. Maybe
Sherman pushed them both.”

“But why would
Sherman hurt May? She was just trying to help him.”

“Who knows what
goes on in his mind? I think there’s something seriously wrong with
him.”

Erna shook her
head. “I don’t believe it.”

“Maybe not, but
I think that we should warn May to stay away from him. I can come
back this afternoon after she’s settled so that we can both talk to
her, if you like.”

Erna clasped
her hands together in her lap. “I don’t wish to sound harsh, Anna,
but sometimes you are a bit impetuous. Perhaps you should think
things through more before you share your opinions, or act upon
them. Like the time you broke into the Primos’ house and removed
their gun because you suspected it might be the weapon that killed
your ex-husband.”

“Technically, I
didn’t break into their house – Amy snuck me in.”

“And then you
suspected Jessie Wick of murdering your ex-husband. As I recall,
Charles was injured while you were snooping on her.”

“That was an
accident,” Anna said, her face growing warm.

“And this
feeling you have about Sherman. Upon what do you base that?”

Anna perched on
the edge of the couch. She felt anxious, like one of Erna’s
slower-witted history students who couldn’t recite the causes of
the First World War.

Counting on her
fingers, she said, “First, he heard Evelyn calling to him in the
cemetery. What sane person hears dead spirits calling to him?
Second, he’s an alcoholic. Third, he’s very suggestible. Look how
easily he swallowed everything Tiernay told him at the séance. Now
he’s convinced that someone killed his wife, and is still on the
loose.” She held up both hands. “I just don’t trust him.”

Erna leaned
back on the couch and crossed her ankles together. “Yes, Sherman
has a drinking problem, but he’s held the caretaker’s job for four
years, and that shows that he’s managing his dependency. As to
hearing Evelyn’s voice in the cemetery, sometimes the wind can play
tricks on people’s hearing, especially when they are under the
influence. That’s perfectly understandable. As to having anything
to do with his wife’s death, I’ve known Sherman for thirteen years,
and I don’t believe that he would raise his hand to a woman.” Erna
paused, pursing her lips as she considered Anna. “You criticize
Sherman for so readily believing that Evelyn was murdered and that
her killer is still at large. If he is convinced of that, he can
hardly have killed Evelyn himself, can he? Which is it, dear?”

Anna’s face
fell. “Uh, no, I guess that doesn’t make sense.”

“No. You really
must try to be more disciplined in your reasoning. So you see, May
is in no danger from Sherman, and there’s no reason to upset her
with your suspicions.” She glanced at her watch. “Look at the time.
It’s 10:15. Mass will be starting in fifteen minutes. Shall we be
going?”

Anna shook her
head. “You go ahead, Erna. I need to do some thinking. Maybe I’ll
take Wendy for a walk instead.”

Erna rose to
her feet and patted Anna’s shoulder. “Don’t be too hard on
yourself. You don’t know Sherman as well as May and I do. If you
knew what a fine man he was, you wouldn’t suspect him, either.”

Anna climbed to
her feet. Despite her friend’s placatory words, she was still
perturbed with Erna for suggesting that her thinking was
undisciplined.

“I was thinking
of dropping by to see May tomorrow night after supper, if that’s
all right with you?”

Erna smiled.
“Yes, why don’t you do that? I’ll tell May to expect you. We’ll
both look forward to it,” she said, picking up her cardigan and
purse from the coffee table and ushering Anna to the door. They
parted on the sidewalk, Erna walking briskly toward the church, and
Anna heading slowly for home.

The morning had
started out with near-freezing temperatures, but it was shaping up
to be sunny and warm by the time that Anna retrieved Wendy and was
leading her into the countryside. Halloween was only a week and a
half away, and many of the leaves had already fallen, making a
lovely gold and brown blanket that spread over the fields and
drifted onto the road.

She was feeling
dejected about her conversation with Erna. Anna had always
considered herself to be a practical, no-nonsense kind of person
who had worked hard to build a new life for her son and herself
after her marriage had broken up. It hurt to hear that Erna saw her
as someone who made wild, unfounded assumptions. What kind of a
person was she, really? A flake? Paranoid and suspicious, from
everything Erna had said. Maybe she spent too much time alone,
brooding over problems that didn’t really exist. Was she going to
end up as the town’s crazy lady?

She bent to
give Wendy a hug. “Thank God I’ve got you, girl. At least I won’t
turn into one of those old biddies who lives alone with her
twenty-six cats.”

The dog grinned
and panted a little in the warm sunshine. Anna patted her head and
tossed the stick Wendy had been carrying, and she darted after it.
Anna followed, trying to enjoy the sunshine and fresh air while the
good weather lasted. Pretty soon it would be November with the
possibility of snow and below-freezing temperatures. She rounded a
bend in the road and spotted Greg Rae sitting on a stool in the
shade of a tree with a sketch pad on his knee. Wendy reached him
first, and he looked up in surprise as the dog dropped her stick at
his feet.

Anna waved and
called, “Hi Greg. Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

Greg waved back
and rose to his feet. “Anna, what an unexpected pleasure,” he said
as she caught up to him. “I was just sketching that house over
there.”

Anna looked
down at his pad. Greg had done a beautiful job of rendering the
ranch house and barn nestled half-way up the tawny hillside across
the field from them.

“My landscapes
have been selling nicely with the tourists who stop by the store.
Do you like it?”

“It’s lovely.
You have real talent.”

“It’s yours,”
he said, removing a pen from his shirt pocket and signing the
drawing.

“Oh, Greg, I
can’t accept it. You could make some money selling it in the
store.” But he reached inside his leather pouch and pulled out a
matte knife, using it to cut the page away from its binding.
Rolling the paper into a telescope, he stood up and handed it to
her with a short bow.

“Nonsense. Art
is good for the soul, and I like to give it away from time to time
to remove the dull tarnish of mercantilism. I only wish that the
picture were framed.”

“Oh no, I’ll
take care of that. Thank you so much,” Anna said, stretching upward
to kiss his cheek.

“There, I have
my payment,” he replied, cupping his face with his hand and
smiling. “Will you walk back with me? I was just getting hungry,
and it’s close enough to lunch time to eat.”

“Sure,” Anna
said. “Can I carry your stool for you?”

“No need, it’s
collapsible.” He flattened the stool and inserted it into his
pouch. Slinging the strap over his shoulder, he crooked his arm at
Anna, who smiled and slipped her hand into his arm. Together they
turned and retraced their steps toward town, Wendy following behind
them.

“So, Greg, I
don’t know very much about you. Do you make a living selling your
sketches?”

“No, that’s
just one of my many sidelines. Most of my income comes from being a
freelance graphic artist. I love it ‒ I’m my own boss, and I can
work anywhere with a wireless connection. But working with pen and
ink is more tactile, and gets me away from the computer.”

“Where do you
hail from? Tiernay told me that she’s French-Canadian, so I take it
that you’re not originally from Alberta?”

“No, we’re from
Montreal, although we haven’t lived there for years. I moved to BC,
and Tiernay followed to get her massage therapy licence. We opened
the first Healing Hands store in Vancouver, as a matter of fact,
and lived there for a couple of years before Tiernay decided she
wanted to live somewhere with more wide-open spaces. I’m afraid we
both have a highly-advanced case of wanderlust. That’s how we came
to live in Alberta.”

“Have the two
of you always lived together?”

“Not for years,
not before Vancouver. She had had a nasty break-up with a member of
her coven, so I came to lend my moral support. Then she wanted to
open the store, so I stayed on to help. Like I said, I can work
anywhere.”

“Oh,” Anna
said, her eyes widening. She hadn’t realized that Tiernay was a
lesbian. “I noticed that Steve is interested in Tiernay ‒
romantically, I mean. I wonder if he knows?”

“Knows what?
Not everyone in a coven is a woman,” he said as if reading her
mind, “but in this case, her ex was a female. Tiernay has some
pretty liberal ideas about her sexuality, however, so Constable
Walker doesn’t have anything to worry about. Besides, I’m sure he
knows all he needs to by now. They’ve been holed up in his house
for the last three days.” He smiled, and Anna felt her cheeks
colour.

“Okey-dokey
then,” she said.

“Now me, I’m
more of an old-fashioned guy in the romance department,” he added,
sliding his arm around her shoulders.

But Anna felt
uncomfortable with the gesture and pulled away. “Have you ever been
married?” she asked to cover her emotions.

“Not since I
was sixteen.”

“What?” she
sputtered, half-laughing. “You were married at sixteen?”

“And that was
only because my girlfriend’s parents insisted that the baby have my
name. Don’t know why they’d want to burden their own grandchild
with it. It’s not like my family’s reputation was any good, what
with my mother being in jail at the time.”

Anna stopped to
stare at him. “I don’t know what to say.”

Greg grinned.
“But that marriage hardly counts since it lasted less than a
year.”

Anna grinned
back. “Are you telling me the truth, Gregory Rae?”

He raised two
fingers. “Scout’s honour.”

Anna shook her
head at him. “You were never a scout.”

He laughed.
“You got me there. But I was an altar boy, once.”

Wendy ran past
them, chasing a butterfly. They followed behind walking in
companionable silence, Anna keeping an eye on Wendy since they were
close to the town limits, and Greg admiring the view.

“You know,
there is a favour you can do for me in exchange for the picture,
Anna.”

“What’s that?”
she replied, patting her leg so that Wendy would heel beside
her.

“Join me at
home for a bite of lunch, and let me sketch you this
afternoon.”

“Oh, not the
sketching thing again.”

He paused,
forcing her to stop by placing his hands on her shoulders. Wendy
sat at her feet as Greg stared straight into Anna’s eyes.

“I have only
the most honourable of attentions, Anna. I really must draw you.
Why are you being so shy about it?”

She put her
hands on her hips. “Come on, Greg, I’m a middle-aged mother, not a
beautiful young thing like your sister. I just can’t imagine my
picture hanging side-by-side in the store with Tiernay’s.”

Greg wrapped
his arms around her and kissed her. Anna froze, and then he
released her and was grinning down into her eyes.

“Oddly enough,
I’m not usually moved to do that by your average, middle-aged
mother.”

He bent to pick
up his pouch, which had slipped off his shoulder and fallen onto
the road, drew her hand back into his arm, and continued with their
walk as if nothing had happened. Anna looked away, her cheeks
blazing.

“Cat got your
tongue?”

“Uh . . .”

“At least you
didn’t do anything as clichéd as slapping me.”

“Give me time,
I’m thinking about it.”

“Come on, I was
just making a point. You’ve got to get over this modesty about your
appearance. You’re a real beauty. I’d have thought your sergeant
would have convinced you of that by now.”