Sinister Entity (30 page)

“You relatives of Greg and Rita?” he asked.

“Just friends of the family,” Greg replied. “I was wondering if you could help us out with something.”

Mr. Murphy lowered himself into a chair. He pulled a pack of Kool cigarettes from his shirt pocket, ripped the filter off one and lit it. A thick cloud of gray smoke filled the air between them. “I’ll do the best I can. Judging by the look on your faces, it must be serious.”

“It could be,” Greg said. “I was wondering if you knew of anyone in the area that died recently.”

Mr. Murphy smiled and wagged a finger at them. “Ah, you must be in the market for some real estate on the cheap. I can tell by your accents that you’re not from around here. It’s an odd way going about looking for a house, but I can’t say that I blame you. The cost of a house today astounds me, even with the depressed market.”

Jessica hated to lie, but Greg did produce a gem of an excuse for their being here. She said, “You have to find an angle any way you can.”

“You don’t look like you’re even old enough to smoke, young lady. You one of those cradle robbers, Eddie?” He winked at them both. “Now, let me think. I know there’s a house for sale over on Alexander Street, but that’s because the Langes moved out a few months back. Rose Hutchins passed away over on Forte, but that had to be a year ago. A young couple like yourselves bought it from her sons. Heard they got a pretty good deal.”

Greg cut into his rumination. “Setting aside any houses that may or may not be for sale, can you think of anyone in the neighborhood that passed away recently?”

That got Mr. Murphy suspicious. Jessica willed Greg to cool down but had little hope. She was about to make a preemptive strike when Eddie said, “I’ll be straight with you, Mr. Murphy. We’re not actually looking to buy a house. Jessica and I are here to help Greg and his family with a little something they’re going through.”

Jessica added, “We just want to ask a few questions that I know are going to sound strange, but anything you can give us might be just what we’re looking for.”

Mr. Murphy took a sip of his beer with a shaky hand. He eyed Greg and said, “Is that so?”

“Yes. If you want us to leave, I understand.”

Mr. Murphy waved a hand. “I could tell from the second I saw you that there had to be some kind of trouble. An old man like me doesn’t get asked by many folks to help them out of a jam. Fire away.” He took a last drag on his cigarette, smashed the small remains in an ashtray, took the filter off another and brought it to his lips.
He must have damn good genes to smoke like that and look this healthy,
Jessica thought.

She smiled, relieved, and asked him again if he could remember any deaths in the surrounding area over the past year. He spent half a can of beer thinking out loud, but could come up with nothing.
 

“I’m real sorry,” he said and paused. “That
does
sound kind of strange, being sorry that no one around me has died. Greg, I’ve known you and your family since your girl was knee high to a grasshopper and little Ricky was only a wish you and Rita both shared. Maybe if you can tell me what kind of trouble you’re in, I can help in some way, other than being a walking, talking obit page.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I did,” Greg said.
 

“How do you know unless you try?” Mr. Murphy countered.
 

Greg rose from his chair, pacing between the table and the refrigerator. “Because I’m living it and I’m not one-hundred-percent sure
I
believe what I’m seeing.”

Eddie said, “Greg, I think you should give it a try.”

Jessica was curious to see if Eddie was right and Mr. Murphy did have a clue locked away within his still-sharp mind. She decided to help press Greg a little further.
 

“If it can help Selena,” she said somberly.
 

Greg stopped, looked toward the ceiling with resignation and pulled a seat close to Mr. Murphy.
 

“I hope you have an open mind,” he said.
 

“I supported the hippies in the sixties and voted for Ross Perot. You could say that I’m open to new things.”

Jessica and Eddie let Greg spill the entire story out to his neighbor, adding small bits of information when asked. To his credit, Mr. Murphy didn’t recoil or look the least bit skeptical. He nodded in all the right places, asked a question here and there and at one point placed a reassuring hand over Greg’s. When he was done, Greg slumped in his chair and said, “So, are you going to call the psych ward on us now?”

Mr. Murphy tottered to his fridge and got out another can of Piels. “I think this calls for doubling up on my daily meds.” The top popped with a foamy hiss and he took a quick sip. “I’ll be right back.”

He walked off into the living room. They heard him open a few drawers and mutter a curse when he jammed his knee against an end table. When he returned, he was holding an old photo album, the kind you could have found in discount department stores a couple of decades ago, with little pockets for each picture. He carefully placed it on the table.
 

“You know, my wife Celia used to love taking pictures. I would tell her she was more Japanese tourist than New Englander.”

Jessica and Eddie both gave a reluctant laugh.
 

“Whenever we went away for at least a week or two, which we did every single summer of our marriage, she had that camera glued to her hand. We’d send bulging envelopes of rolls of film to be developed and she would go out and buy these albums by the gross.”

He flipped through the pages, passing snapshots at Gettysburg, the middle-aged Murphys standing side by side outside the National Military Park, then through what looked to be a spring in the Florida Keys. They looked close, happy, enjoying their travels together. “Here we go,” he said, pointing at a page of eight pictures, all landscape shots.
 

“We were in Cape May, must have been the summer of eighty-five. Another couple came with us, the Cranstons. Good people, used to live in the house next to you, Greg. Well, Celia went out one early morning with her camera, said she wanted to take in the scenery. She stopped by this sand dune right here because she said at the time that she saw a beautiful sea bird that she wanted to get a picture of. Except when the film was developed, this is what she got instead.”

Their three heads pushed close to one another as they looked at the picture of the sand dune. Sitting in front of it was a small girl, or the faded image of a small girl. She was smiling for the camera, wearing a one-piece bathing suit that stopped mid-thigh and a bathing cap. You could see right through her to the tall sea grass that sprouted behind her. Jessica felt a chill run down her back. No matter how many EB pictures and videos she’d seen, ones involving children still disturbed her.
 

“It was the damnedest thing, but Celia believed right away that the ghost of that little girl made itself look like that bird so she would take her picture and not be scared. My Celia was a wonderful woman, but she had all the creativity of a block of wood. I guess that’s why she took so many pictures, so she could at least appreciate the creativity of the people and places around her. If she believed it was a ghost, and it sure as hell looks like one, well, it kind of opened my eyes. You see, Greg, if you live long enough, I think everyone will have their own ghost story.”

Greg had taken control of the album and ran his finger along the picture.
 

“We know for a fact that the spirit’s attraction for Selena was formed before it crossed over. Did you ever notice anyone take a special interest in her? It had to have been a man, late thirties, early forties,” Eddie said.
 

Jessica saw that the rain had finally stopped and the late afternoon sun was trying to break through the departing clouds. She hoped they hadn’t dumped too much on Mr. Murphy but she was betting on Eddie at this point. After being a loner for so long, it seemed odd even to her to put so much trust in him. His connecting her to the horrid EB shattered any lapses in faith she might have had in him and his abilities. The things she’d felt made her stomach knot. Despite that, she also sensed she somehow didn’t get the whole picture. There were moments when it seemed the flow of images and feelings was cut short. Maybe Eddie was running interference. She wasn’t over the moon with the thought. But then, maybe he did it for a reason.

She added, “Selena is a very pretty girl who looks older than she really is. Did you ever notice anyone paying extra attention to her?”

The effect was instant. Mr. Murphy’s eyes brightened and he tapped the beer can on the table. “Yes, yes, I have. I think I might know who you’re looking for.”

Chapter Forty-Three

When the rain let up, Selena asked her mother if she could go to the convenience mart across the street for an iced tea and some snacks. Ricky perked up at the promise of food. Her mother, who was looking more worried, drawing into herself a little more with each passing minute, nodded and said, “Just grab what you need from my wallet.”

They hadn’t heard from her father since they woke up. No one knew where he was, but her mother kept assuring them he was out blowing off some steam and would be back any minute. He’d looked pretty shaken up last night and she wouldn’t be surprised if he found the closest bar to try and drown out what he saw, at least for the afternoon. Odds were he called one of his friends so he’d have someone to talk to. Selena wasn’t freaked out by his absence. Right now, she had other things on her mind.
 

“Can I come?” Ricky asked, donning his baseball cap.

“Stay here. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

He sneered at her. “No fair. Why should you be the one to pick out what I eat? You’ll get something gross like a granola bar. Mom, tell her I can go.”

“I can’t see why not.”

Selena whirled on her brother. “I know you don’t understand this, but I need some space! I promise I’ll get you a snack that’s orange and salty and nasty, just the way you like it.”

“Mom!”
 

“Selena,” her mother pleaded.
 

“I said no!”
 

She slammed the door behind her before the argument could escalate any further. Sleeping by her twelve-year-old, snot-nosed brother for the past few weeks, and now sharing a bed, was too much. If she didn’t get out of that room, she was going to scream.
 

The first step out the door landed her in a puddle that went up to her ankle. Disgusted, she trudged over to the gas station. But once she was there, she didn’t go inside to find food. Instead, she pulled her cell phone out of her shorts pocket and dialed Crissy’s number.
 

“Hey, Sel,” Crissy said, answering on the first ring. She’d been afraid that Crissy may have been too freaked out to even talk to her. She knew Julie would have been. Poor Julie. She’d have to think of a way to make things up to her. But that would have to come later.
 

“Do you have your driver’s license yet?” Selena asked.

“I came close the second time I took the test. I fucking can’t stand parallel parking. You all right, you know, after everything at the house?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was hoping you could borrow your mom’s car and come over and pick me up. Guess I’m stuck here.” A pair of guys in their early twenties came out of the store, each with a case of Bud under his arms. They almost knocked into each other when they saw her, their eyes taking her in from top to bottom like a couple of jewelers appraising a diamond. She smiled and gave them the finger. She wasn’t in the mood for typical male stupidity at the moment.
 

Crissy said, “Why didn’t you just say that? I don’t need my license to drive over and get you.”

“But what about your mom? I doubt she’ll give you the car without a license.”

“She’s zoned out in her room. She hit the wine earlier than usual today. Where should I pick you up?”

“At the Mobil station across from the hotel. I’ll wait outside.”

She figured it would take Crissy about ten minutes to get there, which left her time to buy an iced tea, guzzle it down and follow it with a Red Bull. By the time she was done, and let loose with a tremendous burp when she made sure no one was around, Crissy was pulling up in her mother’s Outback, hitting the brakes too hard and causing the car to come to a screeching halt.
 

“See, I told you it wouldn’t be a problem. Where to?”

Selena slid into the car and said, “First, I need to go to Target.”

“Target it is.” Crissy ground the shifter and sped out of the station.
 

On the way there, Selena kept staring at her cell phone, deciding when would be the right time to call her mother. She’d start to freak out in about ten or fifteen more minutes. That gave her enough time to do what she needed to do.

Mr. Murphy scratched his head, thinking. “Now, this may amount to a hill of beans, but I did see something a little odd a few months back. Didn’t think much of it at the time.”

Greg leaned in closer to his neighbor. “Please, anything could help.”

Eddie felt a prickling at the back of his skull, as if a fine-toothed comb were being dragged across his brain. It was his body’s reaction to what his psyche already knew—the answer was ready to pop.