No Ghouls Allowed (26 page)

“I, on the other hand, wanted Porter Manor back too, as I had never agreed to sell
it. Glenn had done that while he’d had the power to do what he wanted with my affairs.
I thought Glenn’s plan was actually quite bright, and if I acted quickly, I thought
there was a way to get my brother out of my affairs once and for all and get Porter
Manor back as well. If workers were scared off by Everett, imagine how terrified they’d
be if the Sandman began to haunt the halls. So I called up the man who had originally
sealed up the room and asked him to unseal it, let me into the playroom, then seal
it right back up again. I discovered in playing with the planchette, which will work
with any board, really, that all you have to do is say the Sandman’s name three times
and, as long as your will is strong, he appears to do your bidding. At least initially.
Like Everett I learned that after a time, you don’t even need to hold the planchette
to summon or control the demon, but that is the place from where he emerges. Like
a genie from a bottle he springs to life from the planchette.”

“So, knowing your brother would tear down that wall to get into the room to see what
you’d hidden there, you planted the planchette in the playroom,” I said. “And had
Scoffland reseal the room. Once Glenn entered the playroom, you’d unleash the demon.
Was that how you planned it to go?”

“Yes. That’s it exactly,” she said.

“How’d you get Glenn to agree to go over there?”

“It was so simple,” she said with a sigh. “I called my brother and told him a lie,
that I’d alerted the police to where Everett’s body was located, in a sealed room
hidden in my old bedroom. I also told him that I’d planted evidence there to implicate
him in the murder, and that if questioned, I’d point the police in his direction.
I knew that would lure him to the scene, and then I could unleash the Sandman on him
and he’d never, ever want to set foot on that property again. That is, if he survived
the night.

“But the plan backfired on me. While I hid in the room across the hall, waiting for
my brother to arrive, for some reason, Mike Scoffland came back to the manor. My brother
found him there, about to pull out the drywall he’d tacked up the day before. I think
Mike must’ve thought I’d put something valuable in the hidden room, and perhaps he
wanted to take it before his workers showed up. Or maybe he was simply curious about
what was hidden behind that door for all these years. Maybe he simply wanted to see
Everett’s remains to be certain we’d done him in. Whatever the cause, when Glenn discovered
him in my old room he became furious, and the two began to argue. Hiding in the room
across the hall, I became very afraid that they’d discover me, and I think the Sandman
used my emotions to make an entrance. Before I quite knew what was happening, the
Sandman possessed Mike, who then attacked my brother. The pair struggled for a bit,
and Mike was definitely winning when Glenn got his hands on a nail gun and killed
Scoffland with one click of the gun. Mike hit the floor, my brother felt for a pulse,
and then he simply panicked and fled the scene.

“Realizing what I’d done, I too fled the scene. It wasn’t until the next day that
I had worked up enough nerve to go back to the house and retrieve the planchette and
the board and get the Sandman back into the planchette. By that time, you had already
discovered the hidden room and what lay beyond.”

“What about Everett’s body?” I asked. “Did you steal it from the scene?”

“Oh, no,” Sarah said. “That was Glenn’s doing. He didn’t want Everett’s remains to
be connected back to him like I kept threatening, so, sometime after I retrieved the
planchette, he snuck into the playroom and retrieved Everett’s body; then he buried
him in my backyard, knowing I’m not physically capable of digging him up and moving
him again. I guess Glenn figured it was only a matter of time before Beau did a search
of our properties. He’d been working steadily to turn the tables against me ever since
he killed Mike.”

“And what about what happened at the mental hospital?” I asked next.

“Oh, that,” Sarah said with a tired sigh. “Once the Sandman learned that you were
DeeDee’s daughter, it was all I could do to keep control of him. The day after he
killed Scoffland, Glenn sent Everett to attack me at my home and I broke down again.
My maid checked me into the hospital, and I thought I’d be safe, but I made the mistake
of bringing along the planchette. I didn’t want Glenn to get his hands on it, but
they gave me drugs which weakened my will and let the Sandman loose again. Before
I could get my wits about me, one of the patients attacked me and I was knocked unconscious.
When I came to, the place was in chaos. At first I tried calling the Sandman back
just by saying his name, but he was becoming too powerful. He wasn’t listening to
my commands and for a time I couldn’t find the planchette to force him back, but I
finally did. It’d been knocked under one of the beds.”

I realized that must have been the moment when all the chaos abruptly stopped. I had
one more question for her, but it was a difficult one for me to ask. Still, I managed.
“Why did you hurt Linda, Sarah?” I knew it’d been Sarah who’d attacked Linda, because
my grandparents’ old house was a mere stone’s throw away from the hospital where we’d
interviewed her. Hell, I even remembered that when she’d told us what happened the
day Everett died, she’d been fully dressed, even wearing her shoes. “Linda came to
see you this morning, didn’t she?” I pressed, knowing Linda had left Mrs. G.’s and
gone straight to the hospital. “She must’ve realized that she slipped up and mentioned
to you that she knew where Mama had hidden the planchette and that you were the only
one who knew about the Sandman and how to control it.”

She didn’t answer me at first and the silence stretched out between us. At last she
said, “Yes, she came to see me. She accused me of retrieving the planchette and using
it to call up the Sandman. I denied it, but I knew she could tell I was lying. And
then, from my window, I saw her get into her car and drive straight over to Loamlach.
I knew she’d check the tree to see if the planchette was still there. It was easy
to slip out of my room down the stairs and over to the river. I was back in an hour,
and none of the nurses even knew I’d been gone.” I shook my head in disgust but didn’t
voice my feelings. A moment later Sarah said, “Is she dead?”

“No.”

“Good,” Sarah said, and there was no trace of malice in her voice.

“But why?” I pressed. “Why would you hurt her? She did nothing to you and you already
had the planchette.”

“She did nothing to me?” she repeated. “Mary Jane, she hurt me worst of all.”

“How?” I couldn’t fathom Linda ever hurting a single soul, let alone small, frail
Sarah Porter.

“She took away my DeeDee,” Sarah said, a waver in her voice. “Linda stole the truest,
best friend I ever had.”

Now it was my turn to be quiet, but then I was reminded that I didn’t have the luxury
of waiting too much longer. Mama’s energy was quickly fading and the Sandman was pushing
hard against the magnetic barrier I’d placed him in. “Sarah?”

“Yes, Mary Jane?”

“It’s time,” I told her.

She didn’t answer me and I waited several long moments to work up the courage to carefully
get to my feet, still pressing the planchette against my chest, and step around into
the open doorway. Sarah was sitting on the floor, holding the Sandman’s real planchette
and on the floor next to her was the body of her brother. He was riddled with dozens
of planchettes, impaled to death by the very devices he’d so coveted.

Sarah looked at my free hand and the spikes and she said, “May I do the honor?”

I considered not trusting her—she was a murderer after all—but then I considered that
I didn’t have the mobility to hold on to the planchette on my chest and destroy the
other one at the same time. Bending my knees and extending my hand, I offered her
one of the spikes. She raised it feebly and brought it down on the crystal. It took
her several tries, but at last the thing was broken and then she laid the spike lengthwise
on the surface of the planchette.

Tentatively I lifted one of the remaining spikes in my free hand and knocked the gem
out of the center of the planchette at my chest. The metal stopped pulsing with energy
immediately. The Sandman had been disarmed. “Everett?” I asked her next.

She pointed to Glenn’s desk. Stepping carefully around the planchettes littering the
floor, I approached the desk warily. In the center I saw that Glenn had painted the
surface to resemble a large Ouija board, and there in the middle was a worn photo
of Everett Sellers. One of the only remaining planchettes on the opposite wall began
to rattle and I knew it was about to aim straight for my head. I lifted my hand holding
all the remaining stakes high, and brought it down as hard as I could in the center
of the desk. For a moment, nothing happened, and then the planchette simply fell to
the floor.

I surveyed the terrible mess and my gaze finally came to rest on Sarah, who lifted
her chin, and looked at me with such tenderness. “You look just like your mother,”
she said to me. “And she was the most beautiful woman I ever knew.”

I swallowed hard, but continued to hold her gaze without tears.

With a sigh Sarah sat back, looked at me, and held up something small hidden in her
hand. Belatedly I realized she was holding on to a prescription bottle. “My happy
pills,” she said, her words slurring.

I gasped. “Ohmigod, Sarah! No!”

She closed her eyes and fell back with that smile still on her lips. And then she
was gone.

The moments after Sarah’s suicide were awful. I was torn between trying to help her,
Breslow, and Heath, and it was a tough call as to whom to help first. I had to recruit
Chloe to help Breslow, and Heath had somehow managed to crawl up the steps and make
it to the front porch, but that’s as far as he could go. I called dispatch, looking
for backup, which finally arrived.

The reason it was so late getting to us was that there was a four-alarm fire at Porter
Manor, and nearly the entire mansion and some of the surrounding woods went up in
smoke.

The cause was determined to be arson, and I had no doubt that Sarah had set the fire.
She’d known when she’d made her first confession to us in the hospital that her dream
of ever owning or living in Porter Manor again was gone.

Christine was totally heartbroken, but Daddy promised her that they’d rebuild such
a grand manor that no one would even remember the Porter place, and in the meantime
they had a perfectly lovely home to live in, which I could now attest they did.

Heath and Breslow were taken to the hospital and X-rays confirmed that my sweetheart
had suffered three fractured ribs. How he’d even stayed conscious, given the amount
of pain he’d been in, was something of a miracle.

Beau had suffered several blows to the face and head by flying planchettes, but Chloe
had ridden with him in the ambulance, and last I heard, she was sweetly nursing him
back to health.

As for Deputy Cook, he came to immediately after the Sandman was banished once again
to the lower realms. No surprise, he didn’t remember a thing about attacking Sheriff
Kogan and Kogan actually surprised me by subtly altering the official report to read
that Cook had become light-headed and fallen while holding a knife, accidentally stabbing
Kogan. No charges were filed, and I heard that Cook went right back on duty, although
for a while he’d also been ordered to wear a fishing vest with a few magnets in the
pockets—just in case.

All the other victims of the Sandman’s possession had also woken up confused and remembering
nothing about the incident at the mental hospital. No charges were officially filed
there either, although how Kogan had managed that, I still wasn’t sure.

Linda woke up just a day later too, not remembering much about her attack, but able
to smile and hug me, and there were no signs that she’d have any lasting damage, so
I was incredibly relieved. She didn’t make it to Daddy’s wedding, but I thought that
might’ve been for the best. Linda had loved Mama, and it was a hard thing to watch
the love of Mama’s life marrying someone else.

I knew that for a fact.

Even though the ceremony was small, it was still lovely all the same. Michel—Gilley’s
man—flew in and they made such a handsome couple. Daddy barely batted an eye when
he was introduced to Michel, and I had to give him marks for that at least.

And, despite the pain Heath was still in, he managed to slow dance a few songs with
me. As the party was winding down, I went inside and walked from room to room, taking
it in and thinking about Mama and how much I missed her. She would have loved the
wedding. I knew she was there in spirit of course—she was never one to miss a good
party—but it still hurt to think that I’d never come through these doors again and
feel her presence as intensely as I had before Daddy and Christine took up with each
other.

That said nothing about how I felt about Christine, however. The more I got to know
her, the more I adored her, and I was so happy for her and Daddy. . . . It’s just
that, well . . .

“Hey,” I heard Gilley say from behind me as I lingered in the parlor, gazing at a
framed photo of me and Mama from when I was about four.

“Hey,” I replied.

He came up and put an arm across my shoulders. “How you doin’, sugar?”

I laid my head on his shoulder. My best friend always knew when I needed him. “I’m
fine,” I said.

“Hell of a week, huh?”

“It was.”

“Great party, though.”

“Awesome.”

“You okay?”

I smiled. “You already asked me that.”

“Yeah, but now I want you to tell me the truth.”

A well of emotion bubbled up from my chest and I hid my face from Gil as I tried to
wipe the tears away quickly. “It’s just . . .”

“Hurts, don’t it?”

I nodded. “But it shouldn’t,” I said. “I mean, Christine is lovely, and I know she’s
not replacing Mama, but he’s still Daddy, and even though we’ve had our share of ups
and downs—”

“More downs than ups,” Gil said.

“That’s true, but even still . . . he’s so tender with her, Gil. So nice. Like he
was with Mama, but with me, he’s, well . . . gruff, and aloof, and . . .”

“A pain in the keister?”

I chuckled and wiped my eyes again. “Yes, that. But it’s more than that. Why can’t
he be like he was with me before Mama died? I mean, I had this ray of hope when I
first saw him with Christine that he’d turn into that loving, caring man that adored
me when I was little, but in the days since the fire, we’re as aloof with each other
as ever.”

Gil nodded like he knew just what I meant. “M.J.?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you ever think the problem might not be with Monty?”

I turned to look at him with furrowed brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I snapped.

Gil shrugged. “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, you’re still angry at him
for pulling away from you when you needed him most and that all those years of his
hard drinking took a toll on you, which you haven’t quite forgiven him for?”

“No, Gil,” I said defensively. “When he went through the program, he apologized to
me for all of that and I told him right then that I forgave him.”

Gil’s face softened and he looked at me with such sweet understanding. “Sugar,” he
said. “Forgiveness isn’t a decision. It’s a process.”

My breath caught at the wisdom of his words, and I took that in, thinking back to
all those times I’d had my guard up whenever Daddy called, or we met face-to-face.
And since I’d been home, I’d spent most of my time investigating a set of murders
and busting a demon, and hadn’t made any real time to hang out with my own father.

And yet I’d held the memory of my mother as close to me as if she’d died yesterday.
I’d put her on a pedestal and adored her from afar and Daddy had always paled in comparison
with her, and since learning about the horror that’d happened to her as a young girl,
I’d elevated her even more.

How could Daddy ever compete with that? No wonder he was distant from me.

Leaning in, I gave Gilley a giant hug and then stepped back and said, “Would you excuse
me?”

“You headed back out?”

I nodded. “I think it’s time the groom danced with his daughter, don’t you?”

Gilley beamed at me and squeezed my hand. “I do. But after, do you think we can we
go for ice cream?”

“It’s a deal, honey.”

Making my way outside again, I wound my way through the wedding attendees, stopping
to kiss Heath on the cheek, while he grimaced in pain but tried to put on a good face
as he watched the dancers on the dance floor. “You okay?” he asked me, reaching up
to squeeze my hand.

“Yes,” I told him. “I am. I know you’re hurting, but there’s one quick thing I have
to do before we go. Is that okay?”

“Take your time, babe,” he said, forcing a smile. “I can always nurse one more beer.”

I kissed him again, then moved away and over to Daddy, who was dancing with his radiant
new bride. Tapping him on the shoulder, I said, “May I have this dance?”

Daddy turned to me and a mixture of emotions played across his face—surprise, delight,
and also perhaps a bit of melancholy I supposed was caused from all those years we’d
spent at war together.

“Of course I’ll dance with you, baby girl,” Daddy said, bowing to his bride, who winked
at me as her new husband took up my hand. We danced without saying a word for a bit,
and then Daddy leaned back and stared at me intently and I was shocked to see tears
fill his eyes.

“Daddy? Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, honey,” he said, pulling me close again. But after
a minute he said into my ear, “It’s just . . . you look so much like your mother tonight.
And I always thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. I guess I never
realized how much like her you are. Your beauty and your spirit, you get all that
from Madelyn. And, baby girl, you just . . . take my breath away.”

I swallowed hard and wiped a tear from my own eye. Nothing he could’ve ever said could’ve
been more wonderful than that.