Twisted Paths (8 page)

“Aye, that’s me,” Ian said.

“Don’t you know that you’re supposed to be seventy years old, with no hair, a pot belly and a pair of glasses?” Jerry asked.

Ian grinned. “Oh, well, I am,” he said. “This is naught but my disguise.”

Jerry smiled. “Okay, I like this guy,” he said to Mary. “Come on back to my office. I think you’re going to find this interesting.”

They entered his office to find half a dozen newspapers lying on top of his already disorganized desk.  Mary picked up the first one and saw it was open to the Obituary page.  She scanned it and found the listing for Hope Foley. “This is Hope’s obituary,” she said. “They don’t say suicide.”

“Yeah, well, we never say that,” he said. “We say ‘passed on’ or ‘left this earth,’ things that are less hurtful to the family and friends.”

“That makes sense,” she replied, picking up the next paper.

She saw that it dated four years later than the first and it too was open to the Obituary page.  In the middle of the page was the photo of another young woman, her birthdate was the same year as Hope’s and she too had ‘passed away.’

“What’s with this?” Ian asked, reading over Mary’s shoulder.

“Another suicide,” Jerry said. “From the same class as Hope. And look at the date.”

“Isn’t that the same date as Hope’s death?” Mary asked, astonished.

“Yeah, same day, four years later,” Jerry said. “Her name was Mandy, like I told you. Now look at these.”

Ian and Mary looked at the other three papers and found obituaries of three other girls from the same class, all who committed suicide.

“Did they make a pact or something?” Ian asked. “They’ve spaced them exactly four years apart.”

“Yeah, and the next one is due this week,” Jerry replied. “It will be number five in the series.”

“Has anyone linked these deaths together before this?” Mary asked.

Jerry shook his head. “No, four years is a long time to remember dates,” he said. “People remember that other girls died, but they don’t remember the details.”

“So, where can we get a copy of the Yearbook from their class?” Ian asked.

Smiling, Jerry nodded with approval. “Yeah, I do like this guy,” he repeated as he pulled a Yearbook from under the paperwork on his desk. “I pulled one from our research library; just get it back to me when you’re done.”

“Thank you,” Ian said. “I’ll bring it back myself.”

Pausing for a moment, Jerry shook his head. “No, send O’Reilly. She doesn’t make the staff swoon when she walks in the door.”

Laughing, Mary extended her hand to Jerry. “Thanks, you’ve been a great help.”

“Oh, no,” Jerry said, not shaking her hand. “You’re not off that easy. I want first dibs on the story when you solve this case.”

“But my client…”

“Yeah, I met your client, and she hired you to be a ghostbuster and get rid of her household problem,” he said. “Not solve a mystery like this.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “I want the story.”

Mary nodded. “Fair enough,” she said. “I’ll feed you whatever information I can.”

Jerry extended his hand. “Agreed?”

Mary shook it. “Agreed.”

Chapter Sixteen

Mary and Ian didn’t bother moving the car for their next appointment.  The Foley Law Offices were only two blocks away from the newspaper.  Mary had called before she left the house and had secured an appointment with both the father and daughter.

“And what are you hoping to find?” Ian asked. “Seeing you can’t really tell them you’re trying to get rid of a ghost.”

Mary stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and looked at him. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I have something brilliant planned.”

Ian nodded, and they continued walking up the street. “So, you have absolutely no idea what you’re going to say,” he stated casually.

“Exactly,” Mary replied.

The law offices reflected the status and success of the two lawyers.  The ultra-professional administrative assistant politely brought them into the wood paneled conference room, offered them bottles of sparkling water in crystal glasses with ice while they waited for the Foleys to arrive.  Mary sipped delicately and gazed around the room. “I always wanted a room like this,” she said. “But I’d have a fireplace and overstuffed leather chairs.”

Ian grinned. “And shelves filled with leather books on each wall, with a loft above filled with even more shelves.”

Nodding, she leaned toward him. “And one of those really cool library ladders that slide from section to section.”

“Aye, it sounds like my library back home,” he said.

“Really?” she asked. “Do you really live in a place like that?”

“Well, it’s monstrous huge, a bit drafty and a wee bit pretentious, but we like to call it home,” he said with a smile.

“How could you ever leave such a place?” she asked.

“Ah, well, that’s easy,” he said. “To be in your company and be part of your adventures. I can’t tell you the fun I’ve had these past few months.”

“Oh, yes, it’s been loads of fun,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He met her eyes and she was surprised to see how serious he was. “Aye, I’ve made friends who are like family to me now,” he said. “I’ve been accepted for what I do and who I am. I wouldna have missed this adventure for the world.”

She reached over and placed her hand on top of his. “Well, I’m glad you’ve been part of it too,” she said earnestly. “You’re family now, Ian.”

The turning of the doorknob had Mary pulling her hand away and sitting up in her chair.  Mr. Foley was an attractive older man with a full head of salt and pepper hair. His skin was tanned and he looked like he spent a fair amount of time at the gym.  His daughter was perfectly coiffed and seemed too sophisticated in her dress and make-up for downtown Freeport.  Her suit was tasteful and expensive and her high heels were probably worth more than Mary’s entire closet full of clothes.

“Ms. O’Reilly,” Mr. Foley said, coming forward to greet her. “I’m Jackson Foley and this is my daughter, Faith.  How can we help you?”

“Mr. Foley, Faith, this is Professor Ian MacDougal, my colleague from the University of Edinburgh,” she said. “He is here on a fellowship through the University of Chicago.”

“Edinburgh?” Mr. Foley repeated, pursing his lips in consideration. “That’s an impressive institution, Professor.”

“Ian, please,” Ian replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you.”

“No, it’s actually our pleasure,” Faith said, eyeing Ian directly.

“And why are you here?” Jackson asked Ian.

“Well, I, um,” he sent a beseeching look to Mary.

“It’s a little awkward for us,” Mary interrupted, earning a quick look of gratitude from Ian. “Ian is doing some wonderful research on psychological development, and he has been focusing on teen-aged suicide. I imagine this is still painful, and I hope you’ll forgive us for asking, but we wondered if we could speak with you about Hope’s death.”

“How did you know about Hope?” Faith asked, her voice just slightly tense.

“Ah, well, we just came from the local paper,” Ian said. “Jerry Wiley has been quite helpful.”

“And you came to Freeport to study this because?” Jackson asked.

“Well, we needed to find a sister city to the town in Scotland I’m studying,” Ian said. “The size and many of the demographics of Freeport are similar to Cambuslang, a small town outside of Glasgow. They too were mainly a rural community until manufacturing came in and changed the footprint of the community.  I felt a place similar would give more validity to our findings.”

Jackson templed his fingers together and rested his chin on his thumbs, his forefingers pressing against his lips as he pondered Ian’s response. Finally, he lowered his hands. “Well, that makes a great deal of sense and we would be happy to help in any way we can,” he said. “As a matter of fact, Faith is quite a local advocate of the Stop Bullying movement.”

“Good for you,” Mary said to Faith. “That’s an important message.”

Faith nodded. “Yes, if it hadn’t been for bullying, my dear sister would still be here,” she said, once again her focus on Ian. “I think it’s wonderful that you care so much for those who have taken their lives in their youth.”

“So, you believe her suicide was instigated by bullying and no other factors?” Ian asked, pulling out a notebook and pen.

“What do you mean by other factors?” Jackson asked.

“Well, some suicides are pacts that teenagers make with one another,” he suggested. “Another is a relationship break-up.”

“Yes,” Mary added. “And some are due to substance abuse, while others are caused by depression.”

“No, my sister was bullied,” Faith insisted. “There was no way anyone could have taken the abuse that was dished out to my sister.”

“Who delivered the abuse?” Mary asked.

“Well, we really don’t want to name names,” Jackson said. “After all, we still need to live in this community and we don’t want to uncover old wounds.”

“Well, perhaps you could give us a general idea,” Ian suggested. “For example, did she get teased at school?  Was there a neighbor who was mean to her?  Perhaps a family member.”

“Hope loved her family,” Faith said. “Everyone in her family.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mary interjected. “But it also shows us that even the love and support of a good family can’t prevent tragedy.  Who had so much power over Hope that she finally decided she couldn’t take it any longer?”

“She wasn’t accepted at school,” Faith said. “Most of the kids there made fun of her.”

“Why?” Ian asked.

Faith shrugged. “Well, she wasn’t popular.”

 “What does it take to be popular?” Ian asked.

She smiled slowly at Ian and leaned her head to the side, her hair brushing against her shoulder. “I think someone like you would know very well what it takes to be popular,” she said, “Often popularity is given because of physical appeal, social status, leadership or athletic ability. There is often no rhyme or reason to why some students are chosen and others are not.”

Ian turned his whole attention to her. “And those who are popular often make the judgment about who else should be considered popular. Almost a pack or gang mentality.”

“Well, yes, that’s generally true,” she agreed. “The group does tend to decide who joins their ranks.”

Encouraging her, Ian smiled and slowly nodded. “And I’d guess that you were one of the popular ones in your high school.”

Lowering her eyelids for a moment in false modesty, she then lifted her eyes and smiled back at him. “Well, yes, I guess you could say I was popular.”

Ian’s smile sobered. “And yet, your sister was not,” he said. “Did you not want to offer her the same advantages you had?”

Taken aback, she abruptly sat upright in her chair. “I think you misunderstood the situation,” she stated sharply. “I had nothing to do with my sister’s death. I supported her. I encouraged her.”

“Ah, well, that’s good to know,” Ian replied.

There was a moment of awkward silence, finally Jackson stood up and turned to Mary. “Well, I’m afraid we have to cut this interview short. But please, if there is anything else we can help you with, don’t hesitate to call our offices or send us an email.”

Before Mary or Ian could stand and reply, Jackson ushered Faith out the room and the door closed behind them.

“Well, that was interesting,” Mary said.

“Aye, I dinna think I charmed her.”

Smiling, Mary shrugged her shoulders. “Well, you can’t win them all.”

Chapter Seventeen

“Guess what I did today?” Clarissa said as she ran from the front door into the kitchen where Mary and Ian were preparing dinner.

“What did you do?” Mary asked.

“I got signed up for school,” she replied. “And I’m going to be in Maggie’s class.”

“School?” Mary asked, looking over Clarissa’s head to Bradley. “Well that is a surprise.”

Bradley slipped off his coat and hung it on the back of a chair. “Clarissa, why don’t you take your backpack up to your room,” he suggested. “Then you can tell Mary more about school.”

As soon as she dashed up the stairs, Bradley turned to Mary and Ian. “I thought she would be just as safe at school as she would be anywhere else,” he said. “And she really needs to get back into a routine.”

“You spoke with the principal? She knows about the situation?” Mary asked.

“Yes, I let them know about Gary,” he said. “And actually they were more prepared for the situation than I thought they would be. I guess there are quite a few circumstances where children are in danger of being taken by their non-custodial parent.”

“It will be nice for her to be back with her friends,” Ian agreed. “But Gary is much more dangerous than a non-custodial parent.”

Mike appeared in the room next to them. “I’ll keep an eye on her too,” he said. “Grammar school was always my favorite anyway.”

Mary turned to him. “And what will you do when Clarissa or Maggie ask you a question in front of the teacher?” she asked.

“Pass them a note?” Mike teased and then he shook his head. “No, I’ll be in stealth mode when I’m at the school.  The girls don’t need to know I’m there unless there’s trouble. Most guardian angels and ghosts, for that matter, stay in stealth most of the time anyway.”

Mary sat down on one of chairs at the kitchen table and exhaled slowly. “I know this is the right thing,” she said. “But…”

“You’re scared to death,” Bradley added.

“Yes, I am,” she replied.

“I believe that’s part and parcel of being a parent,” Ian said.

Bradley walked over to Mary and knelt down beside her. He took her hand in his. “If you are uncomfortable with this, I’ll pull her out of school,” he said.

Shaking her head, she wrapped both of her hands around his. “No. No, you’re right. She needs her life to get back to normal more than anything else. And Mike will be there,” she said. “She’s better watched over than any of the children there.”

Mike grinned. “You’d be surprised to learn how many guardian angels go to school each day.”

The conversation was halted when they heard the sound of little feet coming back down the stairs. “And guess what?” Clarissa was asking even before she reached the bottom steps.