Ghosts Beneath Us: A Third Spookie Town Murder Mystery (Spookie Town Murder Mysteries Book 3) (30 page)

What was happening was Myrtle had the woman trapped in her car, the gun aimed at her through the open car window. The vehicle was running but not moving yet. “Don’t you drive away, you murderess!” Abigail and half the town could hear what Myrtle was shouting at the woman. “We have questions for you and you’re coming to the police station to answer them. You and your bomb-making, friend-stealing, murderer boyfriend. I know it was you two who planted that bomb on my place, most likely burned up my old trailer. Did you kill my friends Tina, Beatrice, Alfred and Clementine, too? I bet you did. You have that guilty smirk on your face. The sheriff wants to talk to you. Get out of the car, girlie. Now. We’re taking a stroll down the street to the police station.”

Myrtle was shaking the gun in a jerky sideways motion at the woman in the direction of the station. Her face was a mask of righteous determination.

But the woman didn’t listen to her. Instead, she shoved down the acceleration pedal, made an obscene hand gesture at Myrtle, and the car took off.

Myrtle shot the gun. Once, twice, three times. By the sound of it she hit the car every time, but the vehicle didn’t stop. It did a wild U-turn in the middle of the street and went in the opposite direction because there was a group of townies in the road gawking at the goings-on.

The car picked up speed and was rocketing all over the road and straight at Laura, still standing on the sidewalk.

Abigail screamed, “
Laura watch out! WATCH OUT!
”

Myrtle had hobbled into the road by then and pointed the gun at the advancing car. Three more shots rang out and the car, when the windshield shattered, swerved just enough to the left that it missed the young girl.

Shaking, Abigail ran up to Laura, grabbed and held her. “Thank God you’re okay!” She looked up in time to see Frank’s truck ram into the woman’s runaway car further down the street. They weren’t going fast but the car got the worst of the deal. Frank’s truck stopped it dead.

Frank hopped out of his vehicle and, a gun held in front of him, ran up to the wrecked car and dragged the woman out. She didn’t seem to be hurt. She was cursing and yelling, but he gripped her arm forcefully and aimed the gun at her. “That’s enough, Miss Smith. I’m making a citizen’s arrest. You were behaving in a manner that was dangerous to the people here in town, driving erratically and recklessly, so I’m placing you under arrest. There’s no sense in fighting it. You’re coming with me to the police station and you are going to answer some questions we have for you. Your associate Mr. Lethgrow is already waiting there for you. So come along.”

“You don’t know anything, you idiot. You have no proof we were involved with any of the things that happened. You have no proof! And you purposely crashing into my car like a crazy person…and that old witch with the gun shooting at me like she was some out-of-control vigilante? My lawyer will crucify both of you. How dare you! You’re the ones who will be in jail, believe it, not me.” The woman was viciously indignant and behaved as if she were completely an innocent party.

Abigail had to admit, she was quite the actress.

“Shut up and start walking,” Frank snapped at the woman. “It’s not far.”

Since the police station was a block away he herded her off the street and escorted her down the sidewalk with everyone staring at the procession.

As they moved past her and Laura, Myrtle ambling up to join them, Frank looked at her and said, “I’ll be at your house later tonight, Abby, and I’ll tell you all about it. When the cops arrive tell them what happened here and that they can find me at the station. Oh, and please, can you call a tow truck for me and have my truck taken to Ratledge’s Body Shop on Highway 37? He’ll know what to do with it.”

“I will, Frank.” Abigail met the apprehended woman’s haughty stare and smiled devilishly at her. The woman grimaced in return. Oh, well, so much for being friends.

Then Frank and his prisoner were gone.

The police cars arrived for the accident and Abigail, who knew all of the officers, explained what had occurred and then she called Ratledge’s to come and drag the truck away. She didn’t bother with the Lansing woman’s vehicle. She didn’t care what happened to it. The police would have it towed away somewhere and impounded.

Samantha showed up and wanted the scoop on what had happened for the newspaper’s next edition. Abigail, back at Kate’s shop and over another cup of much needed coffee, caught Kate up on what was happening and what Frank had found out about who was really behind their problems.

“You mean those two agents from Lansing Corporation caused all those hauntings, vandalisms and deaths because they just wanted those old people to sell their houses and land? That’s appalling.”

“It was appalling. But we figured it out and Frank set the trap. The two people responsible are both in custody. There shouldn’t be any more hauntings, disappearances or
accidental
murders. The culprits are behind bars for now. It’s over, thank God.”

Kate had sat with them for a time, divulging what she and the Lansing woman had been discussing and listening to what Abigail had had to say while Laura worked the cash register, but then had to go behind the counter to start doling out donuts and cookies and smiling at her customers. And they all wanted to know what the commotion had been about. Knowing Spookie, the news would be all over town by sunset.

Abigail thought about Kate’s mother and how she’d died, how the others had died and she was so relieved the killers had been caught. Kate and Myrtle would have been next, she was certain of it. They had saved a life and perhaps more than one. She hoped both killers would get what they deserved. The company, too, if it was involved and deserved it.

Myrtle had stayed for a while after the excitement, as well, boasting about how she had saved Laura from being run over by shooting the woman’s car up. Abigail had given the old woman her due. She had saved Laura and again she found herself thanking the old lady for someone’s life. Last time it had been her she’d saved. She’d invited Myrtle for a celebration supper later in the week. It was the least she could do.

Myrtle was gone now. One minute she’d been there yakking away about her exploits at the table with her, Kate and Samantha, and the next she had wandered off. Heaven only knew where. Down the street probably bragging about what she’d done to anyone who would listen and then off to her new home now that the coast was clear and the danger was gone. Myrtle had said something earlier about furniture, and a stove and refrigerator, being delivered.

Abigail had prudently and discreetly taken the gun away from her after the cars had crashed and put it in her own purse. She’d give it to Frank when she saw him that night. No one had mentioned the gun, or asked about it so Abigail hadn’t offered the information, either. So far. Eventually someone in the police department would notice the bullet holes in the woman’s car and ask and then Abigail would have to let Frank handle it. He’d think of something to get Myrtle off the hook. He usually did.

“So the corporation was behind all this?” Samantha closed her notebook and had slid back in her chair. She had a paper with exciting news in it to get out so she wasn’t staying long.

“That’s to be decided, yet. All we know is the two, Mr. Lethgrow and Miss Smith were representing the Lansing Corporation but we don’t know how involved the company was with what actually went down. Frank and his friend, Captain Bledsoe of the Naval Intelligence Service, will eventually put all the pieces together. I guarantee it. I’ll keep you updated as I find things out.”

“Thanks.” Samantha exhaled a sigh. “I’m only glad this nightmare is over. The town was really becoming spooked. There for a while everyone believed there were ghosts haunting us all. Doing destructive things. Scaring the bejesus out of us. People were beginning to talk about having a town exorcism or something. Nice to know it was, as usual, just evil people.”

“Evil all right. Tormenting and killing old folks for their property as if they didn’t even matter. I hope they both go to prison for a long, long time.”

“Me, too,” Samantha concurred. “The trial should be fascinating and I’ll be there covering it all for the Journal.” Samantha got up and left.

Abigail got up, too, and after saying goodbye to Kate and Laura she walked out into the street. She had to get home to make supper. Laura would be off work in two hours. Nick was probably already home waiting for her, along with Snowball. It’d been a day and she was tired. Home sounded so good. She couldn’t wait to hear from Frank, find out what Lithgrow and Smith had had to say for themselves. Now that should be a neat tale or two.

At least the mystery of the ghosts was solved. As usual, there weren’t any.

It was as she was passing by Stella’s Diner and saw her reflection she glimpsed the dark figure again. The shadow man. The darkness swirled around him and slowly lightened until she could see him clearly. This time she recognized who it was. Alfred. It was Alfred.

He was smiling now.
Thank you
, his lips formed the words and she heard them in her head. Then he was gone. He had turned into a puff of smoke.

She spun around and again, of course, there was no one behind or beside her on the sidewalk and she felt a shiver as hot as the day was.

Abigail found her car, got in it and drove home. Apparently the day had been more trying than she’d originally thought. What she needed was her home, her children and her cat. And later, Frank of course.

At least now the old people in town were safe. Myrtle and Kate were safe. That finally gave her peace of mind.

*****

Around nine-thirty Frank rode over to her house on his motorcycle. The children were in bed. The two of them sat out in the warm June night on the front porch and Frank summarized what had ensued after he’d taken Lithgrow and Smith in for questioning.

“First off, turns out Lithgrow and Smith aren’t their real names. They are really Leonard Britton and Shelia Mathis. The sheriff ran their fingerprints and that’s how we discovered their false identities. They each have extensive criminal records and backgrounds. Britton’s even been in prison a time or two for criminal assault and Mathis has been in jail for burglary and check forging.

“When Britton was a young man he was in the army. That’s where he learned how to make bombs.”

“Did they admit to what they’ve been doing?” she asked.

“They sang like cornered birds after we presented the evidence we already had against them. I admit, though, I did exaggerate some of that information so they’d confess. But, regardless, we had enough with Myrtle’s testimony to charge them for attempted murder and I’m sure we’ll find more proof for the other crimes as the investigation proceeds.

“I called the Lansing Corporation’s headquarters with a special telephone number Britton gave me and learned that, yes, the two were officially working for them to procure the land they desired, but that–under no circumstances or agreement between them–had the Corporation sanctioned any of their dirty tricks, harassment or killing of the prospective sellers. They were shockingly horrified at the crimes.”

“It was all those two, huh?”

“It was all them. And with Captain Bledsoe vouching for the company’s respectability, I tend to believe Lansing might not have condoned the dirty tricks and the murders at all and didn’t even know about any of them. They’re probably not guilty, other than for hiring the wrong people to represent them, that is. Of course, there will be a trial and the Lansing Corporation will be expected to testify under oath about all of this. I, myself, think Britton and Mathis alone are responsible for the crimes. It could be they did only act out of greed and without permission from Lansing.”

“For the money?”

“For the money and the obscenely huge bonus they were promised if they procured the land by a certain date; in this case, by July. They wanted that damn money so badly in the end they murdered for it. So as far as I’m concerned, they belong in prison or sitting in the electric chair.”

“So they did burn Myrtle’s trailer, clear out Clementine’s house, plant that bomb beneath Myrtle’s new modular home…and they did kill Beatrice, Tina, Clementine and Alfred?” Even as she said those words she still couldn’t believe anyone could be as cruelly heartless as to murder for the reasons they murdered for. It made her sad what people would do for money.

Frank answered in a distraught voice, “I believe so. But Britton and Mathis haven’t confessed to any of the actual murders yet. They’re trying to come off better than they are. But they will eventually. None of those deaths were accidents. They arranged all of them. I’m sure of it. And we’ll get the complete truth sooner or later…in writing. At least those two assassins are behind bars where they won’t be able to do any further harm. The old people of Spookie are safe tonight and that’s what matters.”

“That’s what matters, yes.” She took Frank’s hand in hers as the swing rocked to and fro. The sky above was a panorama of black velvet dotted with twinkling stars. The breeze was soft feathers on her skin. She could hear the crickets and frogs singing their night songs. For the first time in weeks she felt content knowing the town and her friends were safe. The danger was over. All was well. For now.

She and Frank talked more about the case and other things in their lives for a short time as the moon rose above them. It was getting late and both of them were weary. Abigail had agreed to help Kate at the donut shop early the next morning while Laura was at school. She enjoyed helping Kate. The next morning being a weekday the shop wouldn’t be real busy and the two friends would have time to visit and chat. Thinking of Kate made her remember something.

“Frank, are we still having that get-together on Saturday night? You know the barbeque and playing cards afterwards?” she wanted to know after Frank had yawned for the third time. They’d be parting soon, their beds calling. The get-together had been planned weeks ago and she’d almost forgotten about it until earlier in the evening when she’d smelled barbeque on the evening air. Now she remembered to ask him. Myrtle had told her a couple days ago if she had her stove by then she was making her famous deviled-eggs.