Southern Charm (16 page)

"And did Jules Korner paint all of them himself?"

The lady forced a smile. "No. He designed them all, but another man painted them. In fact, he designed all the furnishings in this house, and he —"

"I thought Korner was a painter."

"He was," she said, her words clipped. "Most of the paintings you'll find on the walls throughout the house are by Jules Korner. Now, if you'll let me finish, I'll be glad to take any further questions after I'm done."

Max pantomimed zipping up his lips and let the lady complete her job. He tried to listen closely, but his eyes kept trying to snatch a peek of the house beyond. When she finished, she turned her eyes to Max and asked if there were any questions.

With a shake of his head, Max said nothing. Sandra, however, spoke up. "Did you just say this house is haunted?"

Max had not been listening closely and had missed this part. Now he focused intently on the answer. The lady offered an embarrassed smile. "A few years ago, the North Carolina Paranormal Society conducted several tests over a few nights and, according to them, this house is officially haunted. Now, I've been working here for almost ten years, and I've never heard or seen anything."

"Is it supposed to be Jules Korner?"

"I don't know about that. To the best of my knowledge, nothing tragic ever happened here and certainly not to Jules Korner. Don't make a deal out of it. It's just silliness. Now, if there are no further questions ..."

She opened the glass-paned door and ushered them into the rest of the house. The tour was self-guided from that point on. Numbered placards could be found in each room describing the history of the room and noting features. At the bottom of the placard were instructions on where to go next.

Max and Sandra walked through the house like any other touring couple except for where their eyes went. Sandra appeared to be most interested in the dark, open, empty spaces of the house. Max watched her closely at the entrance of each room, hoping to see on her face if she discovered a ghost. Then his eyes examined every painting and mural he could find.

He looked closely for brush strokes similar to the ones in "Mourning in Red." He didn't expect to find some secret clue. Rather he wanted to find proof that Howard Corkille had told them the truth. That this trip to Korner's Folly wasn't really Corkille's folly.

About halfway through the house they climbed an open staircase and entered the children's rooms. Max had to duck because everything in the room, including the ceiling, had been designed for a child's height. It was like being in a giant dollhouse, and despite the ample daylight, Max's skin prickled.

He looked to Sandra. "Anything?" he asked.

Her face had paled and she nodded. "I'm not so sure who it is, though. I can only see a blurry image."

Max frowned. "Has that ever happened before?"

"Not often. It's usually somebody who is both here and there."

"There?"

"The afterlife that most ghosts can't find or are trying to avoid. But sometimes they get stuck. They start to move on and then maybe they can't fully let go or they lose their way or something. Whatever the case, they end up a little bit in both worlds and that makes them blurry."

"Can you talk to them? Can they hear you?"

"I can try," she said but the sounds of footsteps climbing the stairs ushered them on to the next room. A family of five was right behind them showing their impatience as if they were waiting for a turn at mini-golf and Max was holding up the line.

Later, Max and Sandra entered the reception room, a large ball room on the second floor — or maybe it was the third or fourth floor, the house had so many stairs and ups and downs it became difficult to know for sure. In a glass booth, Max saw the most frightening marionettes — one a copy of each member of the family. They had exaggerated features and old, chipped paint.

"Sandra."

When she walked over and saw the marionette family, she let out a gasp. "I'd rather see ghosts," she said.

"They would be a good place to hide a magic brush."

When they reached the attic, Sandra grasped Max's hand with crushing strength. The entire floor had been converted into a theater with a wooden thrust stage at one end and chairs all around. Off to the right was a large replica of the house with the center cut out and curtained — a puppet theater. The ceiling raised up to a point and on their slanted sides were eight enormous murals.

But Max knew that the impressive sight had not caused Sandra's reaction. "How many do you see?" he whispered.

"I don't know. They're all blurring together." Sandra's skin turned bone white and she leaned in to Max's shoulder. "I don't feel so good."

Without another word, Max escorted her through the house, not worrying about the proper tour path, and garnering a few perturbed glares from other visitors. He led Sandra outside, and the fresh air had an immediate effect on her. Her skin regained some color as she took long, deep breaths.

"You okay?" Max asked.

Sandra nodded. "I don't know what happened. It was just so strange. In my whole life, I've seen maybe three of those blurry ghosts. But up there ... I can't believe how many there were."

"Does that mean the paintbrush ..." Max's voice trailed off as his eyes looked toward the parking lot. He could feel Sandra's quizzical stare falter and felt her shift as she followed his gaze. He heard her breath catch.

Dr. Connor and Mr. Modesto leaned against the old Honda.

"Did you enjoy your tour?" Dr. Connor asked. She looked much healthier than at any other time in the past few days. She also looked like somebody savoring her own maliciousness.

"Get off my car," Max said.

Mr. Modesto gazed down to indicate that he did not actually touch the car. The sneer on his face showed that he wouldn't touch the car even if given permission. Dr. Connor, on the other hand, pressed harder against the car door.

"Mr. Porter, let me begin by assuring you that you will not find the object which you are seeking," Mr. Modesto said. He spoke a bit slower than normal, choosing each word with great care and purpose. "However tarnished by you, we still possess the actual painting. We have all the information required and we have a greater desire to acquire this object. So, if you will simply let this go, we can get this object for our employer and no further contact between us will be necessary. Your insurance policy that you so gleefully hold over us will continue to be honored, of course."

"Get off that car, now," Sandra said. Even from his peripheral vision, Max could see that Sandra was about to take a swing at Connor. Perhaps the witch sensed it, too, because she did take one step away — smiling the whole time.

"Furthermore," Mr. Modesto said and threw a distasteful look at Connor, "I believe this woman owes you an apology."

Connor locked eyes with Mr. Modesto just long enough to show that she hated doing this, that he had forced her, and that she didn't mean a single word. She faced Max and Sandra with her mocking grin. "I'm sorry for taking you from your husband, and I'm sorry for causing you so much trouble. The Hull family had no part in it."

"Thank you," Mr. Modesto said. Dr. Connor threw in a patronizing curtsy and stepped back.

Max leaned in towards Mr. Modesto. "Y'know, you keep coming to me with apologies. First, Mr. Gold and now Dr. Connor. The Hull family should look closer at their hiring practices."

"Undoubtedly. They hired you, after all."

Max let out a slight laugh. "And, thankfully, I don't work for them anymore. So, I don't take their orders, either. It's been nice chatting with you. Now, if you'll please move aside, we have to confer with our client."

"Am I to take that to mean you're still going to pursue these matters?"

"Take it any way you want."

"You won't find it. We have the painting. And we know exactly where the object is."

Sandra pushed Connor aside as she stormed to the car door. "It's called a paintbrush. We all know it, so stop with all the 'this object' nonsense. And the answer is no. We are not backing out of this case. Besides, you're a bad liar. You have no clue where this paintbrush is."

Connor came up to the car door and shoved it closed just as Sandra got in, narrowly missing her fingers. "We know exactly where it is. We just have to wait for the right time to get it."

"Dr. Connor," Modesto snapped.

The witch backed away from the car, pulled out a hip flask, and swung back its contents. "I'm watching you," she said and waved a finger at Sandra — naughty, naughty.

As Max started the car, Sandra raised a finger of her own.

* * * *

They drove straight to the office without a word. Sandra fumed while Max tried to replay the entire conversation in his head. Something didn't sit right. Something felt off in the way Modesto spoke.

When they entered the office, Max felt a surprising twinge of disappointment that Drummond was not to be found. He settled behind his desk, propped up his feet, and got lost in thought. Sandra tapped away at her computer.

"They close at four o'clock," she said.

"Who?"

"Korner's Folly. The house closes at four. I'm assuming you want to go there tonight to see what we can find."

"What about the blurry ghosts?"

Sandra shrugged. "Guess I won't be going into the theater."

"Honey, I don't know if —"

"Don't even start. You know we have to go. Besides, that bitch-witch said they knew where the paintbrush was, they just had to wait for the right time. It's got to be in that house. They wouldn't have come all that way just to mouth off at us."

"No, but if Hull told them to do so, they certainly would come to make sure we had accepted that apology. They don't want those journals released."

"Maybe. But they had to be scoping out the house, too. And it seems they think they know where it is."

Max nodded. "Which means they'll be going after it tonight."

"That's why we have to get there first."

Scratching his chin, Max pictured the house. "We'll all have to wait until dark. Even then, the house is right on a major street. I don't see how we're going to get in without attracting unwanted attention. Not to mention we've got to get in, find the paintbrush, and get out before Hull's people show up. You got any bright ideas?"

Before Sandra could answer, Drummond burst in the office from the bookcase. "I've got an idea," he said as he swooped into a chair.

Startled, Max sat forward, banging his knee on the desk. "I can't believe you. Have you been here the whole time? Just eavesdropping from your bookcase?"

Drummond dismissed the accusation with a shrug. "Seemed like a smart thing to do at the time."

"Don't you trust us?"

"More than most people, but until you're a ghost floating around this office with me, I've got to protect myself now and then. Oh, get over yourself — I wasn't eavesdropping. I only caught the end of what you were saying. Okay, Mr. Uppity-uppity?"

Max crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. "Fine. I've got more important things to worry about. Like have you found Jules Korner yet?"

Drummond leaned back and glanced at Sandra. "He thinks I wouldn't have told him about that already? C'mon."

"Then why are you here and not looking for him?"

"Because sometimes you have to be calm, put out your feelers, and wait. I've spread the word in the right ears, and I need to wait a little to see if Korner shows up. Now, do you want to hear my idea, or do you want to sulk around your office for a few hours?"

Sometimes Max wished Drummond had a more substantial body, so he could smack the ghost hard. "Tell us your idea," he said, slouching back in his chair.

Bringing his hands together with one, sharp clap, Drummond popped into the air and looked at both his partners. "I could go to the house right now. Nobody can see me, so I can search for this paintbrush while the tours are still going on. Then, when evening comes, you guys show up, and I guide you to where it is — or at least, where it isn't, if I haven't found it by then."

Max let Drummond hang in the air with an expectant gaze. He knew the idea was good. It didn't take a genius to see that. But he still felt ruffled by Drummond and wanted the ghost to stew a bit.

Sandra misinterpreted Max's hesitation for doubt, and said, "That's one of the best ideas I've ever heard from you. Go do it, and we'll meet you at Korner's Folly tonight. It's not too far, is it? I mean, you won't get snapped back like you did on our way to Lake Norman?"

"I don't think so," Drummond said, but he didn't seem so confident. "I suspect it's close to the edge of my territory, though, so I might be in a bit of pain. You might have to nurse me a bit when I get back."

Sandra shook her head. "Just get going."

"Sugar, you're a heartbreaker."

Sandra laughed as Drummond flew out of the office. When she turned around, Max had not moved from his desk. His old anger had ignited deep in his gut, and he could see on his wife's face that she knew it, too.

"I don't want to fight," she said, picking at some papers on her desk.