Veiled Passages (17 page)

Smiling, he nodded. “Well, that’s a very important thing to discuss.”

Nodding, she smiled brightly. “I know. And Maggie and I have already figured it out.”

“Oh, what are you going to do?” he asked.

“I’m going to be like you and Maggie is going to be like Mary,” she said.

Shaking his head slightly, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“Well, Maggie can see ghosts, like Mary,” she explained. “So, she gets to see the ghosts and I get to help her solve the mysteries.  I get to be the one who helps figure things out.”

Bradley furrowed his brow. This was going to be a little tricky. “You know, what Mary does is kind of a secret,” he said. “Most people don’t understand her special gift.”

She nodded fervently. “Yeah, people think she’s nuts,” she replied honestly. “But we know the truth.  We know she helps people who are dead.  Maggie and me, I mean I, we want to help them too.”

Leaning forward and stroking her head, he nodded. “Well, that’s a very nice thing to do when you grow up,” he said. “Helping people is always a good career choice.”

“We already have a case we’re working on,” she added.

“What?” he exclaimed.

“Maggie said you’d be upset,” she replied quietly.

Taking a deep breath, he waited for a moment until he was calm. “I’m not upset,” he said, through slightly gritted teeth. “I just want you…and Maggie…to be safe.  Especially while we are still looking for the bad man.”

“Maggie and I thought about that too,” she said. “That’s why you have to help him.”

“Help who?” Bradley asked.

“Mr. Rupp,” Clarissa said. “He’s the nice old man who used to give us candy at church when I used to live in Freeport.”

“What happened to Mr. Rupp?”

Clarissa shook her head. “He told Maggie that he’s dead, but his body is locked up somewhere and no one can find him,” she said. “That’s why we need you to find him.  So he can be found and go to heaven.”

“Does he know where he is?” Bradley asked.

“No, Maggie is going to talk to him tonight and ask him what he was doing before he died,” she replied. “Like Mary does.  And then she’s going to tell you. If you’ll help.”

“Of course I’ll help,” he said. “Why don’t we go over to the Brennan’s tomorrow after school and you, Maggie and I can figure this out.”

“Really?”

Bradley leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Really,” he said. “For now, why don’t you let me be part of your team, okay?”

“That would be cool,” she said, lying back down in her bed and snuggling into her pillows with a yawn. “You’re the best.”

He tucked the blankets around her and kissed her again. “No, you’re the best,” he said. “Sweet dreams pumpkin head.”

“Sweet dreams Dad,” she replied sleepily as she turned to the side and closed her eyes.

Bradley flipped on the nightlight, turned off the overhead light and let himself out of the room, closing the door behind him.  Mike was waiting in the hall.

“Everything okay?” Mike asked.

“Yes, she’s probably already asleep.”

“You know, while she was under Ashley’s guard, I was happy to stay around here and watch over Margaret,” Mike said. “But with Ian being here and with things escalating, I’d really rather be with her at school, even though Ashley is there too.”

Bradley nodded. “I think that’s a great idea and I would feel better knowing that both of you were watching out for her. Thank you.”

“Hey,” Mike shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

“How long do you get to be her guardian angel?” Bradley asked.

Mike shrugged. “I don’t know. Forever, I guess,” he said. “Why?”

Bradley paused and stared at Mike for a moment, a small smile flitting over his features. “Because, my friend, you and I are in for the adventure of a lifetime,” he replied. “Clarissa and Maggie have decided they want to be detectives, like Mary.”

“What?” Mike exclaimed. “They can’t do that, it’s too dangerous.”

“Well, you can try and talk them out of it,” he said. “I already have my first assignment from them.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing big,” he said. “I just have to find the body of an old man who died and is locked in somewhere.  He probably had a heart attack in a closet.”

Mike breathed a sigh of relief. “Okay, that’s an easy one.”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, no danger there.”

Chapter Thirty-seven

The narrow residential street in Dubuque, Iowa, was lined with cookie-cutter ranch style homes that all seemed to boast some kind of unique lawn ornament.  From gnomes and dressed geese to pink flamingos or statues of saints, each house seemed to have its own theme.  Copper walked past the house with yard gnomes and the one with silhouetted plywood cutouts of people performing yard work to the house with the giant purple gazing ball and smaller reflecting “flowers” all around it. He looked down at his watch; it was seven o’clock, exactly the right time for his appointment.

He walked up the carefully manicured sidewalk to the concrete steps with wrought iron balustrades. He pressed firmly on the lighted doorbell and waited for a minute before the door opened, revealing an elderly man dressed in a button down shirt and brown slacks.

“Hello,” Copper said with a friendly smile. “I called earlier about the car you had for sale.”

The man squinted up at Copper. “Yes, yes, I’m Clyde Casey,” he said, extending his hand for Copper to shake. “The car’s parked in the garage. Just give me a minute, I have to get the keys,” he said.

He walked away, keeping the door wide open, and Copper heard him call to his wife, “Elsie, the young man is here about the car.  I’m getting the keys and we’re going to go for a drive.”

A few minutes later, the garage door opened, and Copper sat comfortably in the driver’s seat, while backing the older model sedan out of the driveway.

“We’ve had this car for over thirty years,” Clyde explained. “Made sure we changed the oil every 3,000 miles, always rotated the tires, and always kept it serviced right on time.  I got a notebook here in the glove compartment that lists all of the oil changes and service records for the car.”

Copper pulled onto the road and smiled at Clyde. “It sure drives like a dream,” he said. “You don’t often find an older model car like this in such good condition.”

Clyde nodded. “Well, folks these days don’t take care of much,” he said. “It’s a disposable world. Nothing made today is worth owning.”

“I agree,” he said. “Nothing is made with metal anymore, only plastic parts.  They don’t last more than a year.”

He turned left and let himself out on John F. Kennedy Road and followed it to Highway 20. “How does she do on the highway?” he asked.

“Give it a whirl,” Clyde answered. “We got a full tank of gas and plenty of time.

Copper laughed out loud. “Yes, we do,” he said. “Plenty of time.”

They went out beyond the city limits and Copper pressed down on the accelerator. The car responded well. “I can’t drive anymore,” Clyde confessed. “My eyesight ain’t what it used to be. I got my license taken away last time I took the test.  This car’s been sitting in the garage doing no good to nobody.”

Copper turned off the highway and onto a narrow country road. He drove down the road for several miles, passing farmhouses, barns and fields. The sun had set and stars were beginning to glisten in the dark evening sky. 

“You checking the suspension?” Clyde asked. “Ain’t nothing wrong with these shocks.”

“You’re right,” Copper agreed. “This car is going to be perfect.”

He slowed down and pulled onto a dirt road that led into a small grove of trees. “So, Clyde, you know much about what’s going on in Freeport?” he asked.

“No, we get the Iowa news stations,” he said, “We don’t hear much about what’s happening over in Illinois.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Copper said. “There’s a fellow in Freeport who’s been going around killing people. He even escaped from the courthouse and killed his lawyer.”

Clyde chuckled. “Well, you know what they say about lawyers.”

“Clyde,” Copper said, stopping the car. “This isn’t a laughing matter.”

Clyde looked around. “Hey, where are we?” he asked, his voice shaking. “You need to drive this car back into Dubuque.  I don’t know what your game is mister, but you can just stop it right now.”

Copper turned in his seat and faced Clyde. “That man, the killer, from Freeport,” he said calmly. “He’s killed more people than they know.  Let’s see.  There’s the landlord, I believe his name was Rupp, who now resides in the freezer in the basement.  There’s the clerk at the costume shop in Madison who was left in the storage room of the store. And…let me think.”

He smiled coldly at Clyde. “Oh, yes, there’s the elderly couple from Dubuque who were selling a car,” he said. “The old man’s body was found in a lake and his wife, Elsie…well, we’ll just have to see what fun and games he has in store for her.”

Clyde’s face went ashen. “No,” he said. “No, you can’t do this. You can’t hurt Elsie. I won’t let you.”

The wire garrote was easily slipped over the old man’s head and Copper tightened it brutally. He watched with intense pleasure as Clyde struggled for a few moments, clawing at the line around his throat, and finally slumped back in his seat.  Copper reached over and unfastened the old man’s seat belt and then, going around the car, pulled him from the passenger’s seat.  The sound of water lapping against a pier was loud in the quiet night.  Copper dragged the man through the small copse of trees, through the sand and onto the small pier.  Pulling him slowly, Clyde’s feet striking against each floorboard, they finally reached the end of the dock.  Copper wrapped his arms around Clyde’s chest and whirled around, tossing Clyde’s body into the darkness of the lake. The splash was deafening in the quiet night. Somewhere close by, several geese honked their displeasure and flew away from the lake. Copper smiled and watched the birds take flight before he turned back to the car.  “Time to pay a visit to Elsie,” he said with a smile.

Chapter Thirty-eight

Ian woke the next morning with a fairly stiff back and the distinct feeling of being watched.

“Do you think he’s still asleep?”

Ah, that was Clarissa’s voice
, he thought.
But who is she talking to?

“Yes, ‘cause he’s from another country and they sleep different than we do.”

Well, little Maggie Brennan’s come over for the morning,
he decided, keeping his breathing even and his eyes closed to make sure they thought he was still sleeping.

“I wa ta et ge fe br fist,” he mumbled.

“What did he say?” Maggie asked quietly, moving closer.

“I wa ta et ge fe br fist,” he repeated.

“I think he’s having a bad dream,” Clarissa whispered. “Maybe we should wake him.”

Maggie shook her head. “No, you’re not s’posed to wake people from bad dreams ‘cause they can die.”

Ian bit his lip to keep from smiling.

Clarissa jumped back. “I never heard that,” she whispered. “Really? They can die?”

Maggie bit her lip. “Well, I think so.”

“I wa ta et ge fe br fist,” he said again, and threw in some tossing and turning for good measure.

“What do you think it means?” Maggie said, moving closer to the couch.

“I don’t know,” Clarissa said, joining her friend. “Maybe it’s Scottish.”

Ian sat up, grabbed both girls around their waists and laughed when they screamed. “I said ‘I want to eat girls for breakfast,’” he growled.

Maggie, hanging against his side, folded her arms and shook her head. “You can’t eat us for breakfast,” she reasoned. “That would be disgusting.”

Clarissa just giggled.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ian said, standing and carrying a girl under each arm into the kitchen. “I’m thinking you might be delicious slathered in butter and maple syrup.”

Standing behind the kitchen counter, Mary casually looked up at Ian and the girls. “Oh, good morning, Ian,” she said. “What would you like for breakfast?”

“Oh, good morning, Mary, darling,” he said. “I think I’d like to have two noisy little girls for breakfast.”

“Fried or scrambled?” she asked, while the girls giggled louder.

“I was thinking you could batter them up, so I can have them with syrup,” he said.

Mary considered his request for a moment. “I have a problem,” she finally said. “I don’t have a pan big enough to cook them.”

Ian lifted Maggie up higher and looked at her. “This one’s little,” he said. “She’d probably fit in the toaster.”

“No, I won’t,” Maggie said. “Not even my toe would fit in the toaster.”

Nodding, Mary agreed. “I’m afraid she’s right,” she said. “She’s too big.”

With a giant sigh, Ian looked down at both girls.  “Well, if I can’t eat them, perhaps I can eat with them,” he said. “How about if I make pancakes?”

“Yes!” both girls cried simultaneously. “We love pancakes.”

“Well, then,” he said, placing them down. “You both set the table and I’ll mix the batter.”

The girls ran around the counter to the silverware drawer and started pulling out forks and knives.

“And what am I supposed to do?” Mary asked with a smile.

“Go bring your fiancé in from his car and tell him to take a wee nap before he goes into the office,” he suggested. “And, if he’s obedient, I’ll save some pancake batter for him too.”

“Thanks, Ian,” Mary said, walking toward the door.

She met her mother coming down the stairs before she reached the door. “Morning, Ma,” she said. “How did you sleep?”

“Fine, but I’m hungry as a bear,” she admitted. “Did I hear someone say pancakes?”

“Aye, Margaret, you did,” Ian called from the kitchen. “Shall I flip a few for you too?”

“That would be grand,” Margaret replied, scooting past Mary and heading to the kitchen. “And I’ll put the kettle on.”

“There’s a woman who knows the way to a man’s heart,” Ian said, “A hot cup of tea in the morning.”

“Well, I’ll just go and get Bradley,” Mary said.

She opened her door and was about to step out, but she found herself face to face with Tracey. “You’re making a habit of arriving at my doorstep at the crack of dawn,” Mary said. “Is everything fine?”