Town Haunts (3 page)

“No . . . leave
us alone,” she murmured, staring into the distance.

“Sis?” Greg
said as Steve and Anna stared at her.

Tiernay’s eyes
rolled toward the ceiling, and her knees buckled. Greg grabbed her
around the waist as Steve sprang to his feet to help.

“What’s wrong?”
Greg asked in alarm.

“I just felt
this overwhelming sense of evil,” she whispered, staring at him
with huge eyes. “Give me a moment.”

“Here, you’d
better sit down,” Greg said, helping her back into her chair. Steve
reseated himself, watching the young woman attentively. Tiernay
closed her eyes and raised a hand to her temple as Greg explained
to Anna and Steve, “She gets these premonitions from time to
time.”

Tiernay’s eyes
opened. “It felt like something was trying to smother me,” she
whispered. “I had to fight it off. It’s gone now.” She pointed
across the table at Anna. “It was you! The evil was following you,”
she declared in a stronger voice. Anna gazed back in astonishment
as Tiernay rose and hurried around the table to stand beside
her.

“May I?” she
asked, lifting Anna’s chin and peering into her eyes before Anna
had a chance to respond. “You have a very old spirit – even
primitive, I’d say. You’re strong. That’s good. The evil will not
easily overpower you.”

Anna jerked her
chin out of Tiernay’s hand and muttered, “That’s a lot of crazy
talk.”

Tiernay’s eyes
sparkled with anger, and she drew herself up to her full height.
“It’s not crazy. You listen to me, Anna Nolan. Something poisonous
is coming to get you. I frightened it away, but it will be back. As
soon as you feel anything, you come and tell me about it. I’m
deadly serious about this, do you hear?”

Anna stiffened
as she studied Tiernay. She had no idea why this bizarre young
woman was trying to frighten her, but she decided to play along
until she found out. “Okay, I’ll come running as soon as I feel
anything,” she said, nodding and relaxing back into her chair.

Tiernay’s anger
evaporated, and she patted Anna’s shoulder. “Good. Don’t worry, I’m
sure that we can handle it between the two of us.” Turning to
Steve, she added, “Well, Greg and I have work to do. You will come
by for that massage sometime, won’t you?”

The constable
rose from his chair. “I’ll be sure to do that. Good luck with your
opening on Friday.”

Greg stood as
well and bowed to Anna. “Wonderful to meet you, lovely lady,” he
said. “Take good care of yourself.” Nodding at Steve, he added,
“Constable.”

Tiernay trailed
behind her brother on the way to the cash register, where she
paused as Greg paid Mary for the tea. “Don’t forget to come to the
cleansing ceremony on Saturday, everyone,” she called before
sauntering out the door.

Steve sat down
with an amused smile, but Anna didn’t find anything funny in what
had just happened.

“What was all
that nonsense about evil following me? Was she serious?”

Steve shrugged.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just an act she puts on to promote her
business. It doesn’t really matter, does it? She didn’t spook you,
did she?”

Anna frowned.
“Not really, but she looked so sincere when she warned me. She
seemed to really believe what she was saying.”

Steve shivered
and rubbed his hands together. “You’d better be careful. The bogey
man’s coming to get you, and just in time for Halloween.”

Anna punched
him in the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. Tiernay’s as phoney as a
three-dollar bill.”

“Ow,” he
complained, rubbing the sore spot. “Well, who cares? You know what?
I think that Tiernay and her brother are going to liven things up
around here. She definitely brightened my day.” He stood and
stretched. “Gotta go get some sleep. See you around, Anna.”

“Tiernay Rae
brightened up your day, did she?” Anna mumbled to his retreating
back. “Some people just don’t have any sense.” She forked up some
omelette and ground it between her teeth. But, thinking of Greg and
his hand-kissing, she smiled.

Having two days off made for
a short work week, especially since the department was priming for
mid-term exams. Anna was kept especially busy trying to sort
through the extra printing the faculty had ordered and tracking the
essays that were flooding into her office. Just once, she wished
that the professors would give her a break and make the students
hand in their assignments during class time, but no such luck.

It was Saturday
before Anna knew it. She woke up at seven-thirty and glanced
blearily at the clock. Normally she enjoyed sleeping late on the
weekends, but Wendy, her three-year-old shepherd/labrador cross,
lifted her head from the carpet and stared at Anna with her soft
brown eyes, and Anna relented and got up. After taking care of her
pet’s needs, she enjoyed a long, luxurious shower before leaving
her cottage on the outskirts of town to walk the seven blocks to
The Diner.

It was a dreary
day with a fine, cold rain blowing sideways across her face that
chilled her. Anna tucked her head inside the hood of her coat and
power-walked all the way. Reaching the restaurant door, she rushed
inside, stopping on the rubber mat to shake the rain from her
clothes. A buzz of conversation and the scent of frying onions
greeted her inside the warm, steamy room.

“Morning,
Anna!” boomed a familiar voice. She looked up and nodded at Clive
Wampole, a tall hulk of a man in overalls and a plaid shirt who
farmed his widowed mother’s acreage. Clive’s chosen mode of
transportation was a shiny blue tractor; Anna had missed it parked
out front of the restaurant in her haste to get inside. Clive was
partially deaf and hadn’t heard her come in, but he had felt the
blast of cool air from his seat at the counter and swivelled around
to check her out.

“Wet enough for
you?” he asked. That, and its variants, were part of Clive’s
standard repertoire. “Hot enough? Cold enough?” Good old Clive, he
was nothing if not consistent.

“You bet,
Clive,” Anna said, patting his arm. She looked around the crowded
tables and spotted Mary pouring coffee for Mr. Andrews, a retired
rancher who spent most mornings reading the newspaper at The Diner.
Anna’s book club friends, Erna Dombrosky and May Weston, were
seated with him, laughing over a shared joke. May was wearing one
of her hand-knit sweaters, an orange concoction with a row of
yellow jack-o’-lanterns that clashed horribly with her ruddy
complexion. Her steel-grey hair was blunt cut at chin level,
accentuating the squareness of her face. Seventy-five-year-old Erna
looked cozy in a green wool cardigan buttoned over a tweed skirt,
her black pumps visible through pull-on vinyl rain boots. She
turned and waved at Anna, her sharp blue eyes twinkling. Anna waved
back and was about to join them when Frank’s face appeared at the
kitchen pass-through.

“Hi, Anna.
You’re early this morning. Got something important to do today?”
Frank, a refugee from the hippies’ era, wore his grey hair long and
pulled back into a ponytail to complement his full beard and
moustache. In his late fifties, he was of medium height with a
slight paunch, but his stomach was offset by a muscular chest and
arms. Frank had worked hard at manual labour all of his life until
enrolling in a cooking school in his early forties. Bankrolling the
restaurant twelve years ago had been a strain, but the gamble had
paid off and The Diner had become a success. Now Frank was a
well-respected businessman and a member of the Rotary Club.

Anna strolled
over to lean against the counter beside Clive. “Morning, Frank.
Nope, just woke up early. Is the special ready yet? I feel like
something different today.” Frank’s breakfast special was only
available on Saturdays and was one of the reasons why The Diner was
so popular with the motorcycle crowd who rode down from Calgary to
eat it. It combined rich layers of egg, Swiss cheese, mushrooms,
spinach, ham and cream, and was served with baking powder
biscuits.

“I just got a
fresh batch out of the oven,” Frank said. His girlfriend, Judy,
yawned as she strolled out of the kitchen, still tying her apron
strings behind her back. Judy’s teased blond hair was covered by a
white Stetson, which she teamed with a plaid shirt, jeans, and
boots. She had a full-time job with a local real estate agency, but
helped Mary out with the waitressing on Saturdays. Frank
reciprocated by keeping The Diner closed on Sundays so that they
could enjoy a day off together.

“Morning,
Anna,” Judy said. “What do you want to drink?”

“How about a
hot chocolate? It’s so cold and damp this morning, I sure could use
one.”

“You bet,
honey. Coming right up,” Judy replied, turning to a stack of mugs
on the service counter.

“How’s your mom
doing, Clive?” Anna shouted into his ear.

“My mother?
She’s doing good, thanks. The arthritis in her hands is acting up,
though. I told her not to start making the pickles without me
yesterday, but she wouldn’t listen. All that slicing is hard on her
knuckles, especially in this weather. I’ve got a couple of jars for
you in the tractor – Mother knows how much you love them.” During
her first autumn in Crane, Anna had accepted a jar of Mrs.
Wampole’s pickles and had choked on the toxic level of the vinegar.
Every autumn thereafter, Mrs. Wampole had sent over two jars of
pickles, and Anna had reciprocated with home-made cookies at
Christmas.

“Hey, Clive,
with Ben in school, I’m the only one at home these days. Maybe I
should just take one jar. I wouldn’t want them to go to waste.”

“That’s okay,
Anna. Give Ben a jar to share with his roommates next time he
visits.” Anna smiled, knowing how much her son hated the pickles,
too.

Judy squirted
some whipped cream into Anna’s hot chocolate and placed the mug
before her. A moment later, Mary slapped a plate of the special
down in front of Clive, exchanging a nod with Anna before picking
up a coffee pot and bustling away. Clive grabbed a bottle of
tabasco sauce from beside the salt and pepper and splashed a
generous dose on his food. Anna shook her head in disbelief.

“Clive, the way
you eat that hot stuff, I don’t know why you don’t have a hole in
your stomach.”

“Are you
kidding? Why do you think I never get sick?” He forked a large
piece into his mouth and quickly chewed it. Closing his eyes in
appreciation, Clive moaned, “Oh, this is such good stuff.”

Anna picked up
her hot chocolate and was about to head to her friends’ table when
something thumped against the outside of the restaurant window.
Everyone looked up as Henry Fellows flung the door open and stormed
inside. Henry was gangly and habitually neat, dressed in a tie and
a tweed jacket, but he wore neither today. His normally pristine
shirt and pants were clinging to him, wet from the rain, and his
straw-coloured hair was plastered to his face. He glanced around
the room, pausing to wipe his dripping nose and push the hair out
of his eyes, before darting behind the cashier’s station next to
the window.

“Hey!” Judy
shouted, rushing to intercept him. Henry ripped the notice
advertising the cleansing ritual from the glass and waved it in
Judy’s face. The room quieted.

“What the hell
is this? Where’s Frank?” Not waiting for an answer, he shoved her
into the cash register and bolted through the swinging door into
the kitchen. Judy rebounded and ran after him.

A moment too
late, Clive shouted, “Hey, wait just one minute, Henry,” before
jumping to his feet. Together, he and Anna rushed to the swinging
door to see what was happening.

The kitchen was
small, really only big enough for Frank. The centre of the room was
filled with a large butcher-block island, with cupboards, a
preparation counter, and appliances crowding the walls. Henry had
Frank pinned against the counter and was shoving the flyer into his
face. Henry was slim compared to Frank, but there was something
desperate about his eyes that made Anna fear for her friend.

“What’s this
all about, you backstabber?” Henry was yelling. “A cleansing
ceremony! Does that mean that I’m so foul that the new owner has to
cleanse the store of my presence before she can take over?”

Frank
straightened and pushed the flier out of his face. “Just calm down.
I’m sure the new owner didn’t mean it that way,” he said.

Henry scowled.
“Don’t think that I don’t realize how you’ve all been laughing at
me. I paid my fine and I went to prison for two months. Two months
– that was no picnic!” his voice climbing until he was
shrieking.

Frank held up
his hands in a placatory gesture. “I know, Henry. It’s been rough
on you.”

“Well, I’ve got
nowhere else to go until I can sell my house and get out of Crane.
But how can I do that when you’re encouraging people to laugh at
me? You deliberately put one of these flyers in your window where
everyone going down Main Street could see it. Damn it, Frank,
you’re trying to destroy me!” His eyes rolled around the room as
Frank said, “That’s just not true.”

“You calling me
a liar?” Henry grabbed a boning knife from the cutting board and
jabbed it at Frank. Judy screamed.

“Hang on now,”
Clive yelled, pushing into the kitchen.

“Get back,
Clive,” Henry shouted, swinging the knife at him. Clive jumped out
of the way and collided with Anna. Turning back to Frank, Henry was
grasping the knife handle so hard that his knuckles turned
white.

Frank slid over
to put the island between them. “No one’s laughing at you, Henry,”
he said, his eyes wary. “They’re feeling real sorry about the
predicament you’re in.”

Henry wiped his
damp face. “It was a good idea. That drive-through window would
have been a goldmine. I put every nickel I had into that
restaurant.”