The Ghost in Mr. Pepper's Bed Read online

  Willard came bolting out of the door barking and hopping about as the whirlwind whipped the hanging flower baskets about and threw seat cushions from the wicker chairs out onto the lawn. Upon seeing the skateboard boy, he growled menacingly and tore off the porch toward the kid. The boy actually screamed, causing Zeb to jump and jerk back as the teenager ran down the sidewalk yelling, “MOM!”

  “Please,” Sonya called down to Zeb, “get inside before the entire neighborhood thinks it’s Armageddon!”

  Zeb quickly scanned the street, opened the gate and ran up the front porch steps. Once he was inside, Sonya slammed the door behind him. She turned around to find Ryan, with a sickly, white face, sitting on the sofa, while a groggy Nellie stood in a bathrobe watching her should-be son-in-law fend off the ardent kisses of her ghost child.

  “Poppy!” Sonya yelled at the top of her lungs. “You’ve got to calm down! You’re scaring Ryan and your mother, not to mention the sheriff!”

  Poppy was obviously thrilled to have her beloved once again within her grasp. It took some time, but she slowed her affectionate embraces and her chilly kisses to one or two every five minutes.

  Everyone found a seat in the living room and Sonya brought out hot tea to drink.

  “Have you got anything stronger in there, Mrs. Caruthers?” Zeb asked. “I don’t think tea’s going to cut it after…” He paused to watch Ryan’s hair ruff up and slick back down on its own, “what we’ve seen and been through.”

  Sonya nodded mutely, and, being shaken up herself by the sheer intensity of the whole experience, she thought maybe a drop or two of whiskey in their cups would do the trick. As she grabbed the bottle from the liquor cabinet in her dining room, Nellie called out, “Hold the tea, Sonya, and bring me a stiff glass of Bourbon.”

  Once everyone had a few sips of their refreshment of choice, Sonya decided it was time to get Poppy to tell her story and help her to cross over.

  “Okay,” she said, “Poppy, you’ve got to settle down and pull your energy together so we can hear what you want to say to both your mother and to Ryan.”

  For a few minutes, nothing happened. Nellie, Ryan, Zeb, and Sonya sat quietly, but the intensity and the anticipation that filled the room were palpably felt by all.

  “I was pushed down the stairs, but I don’t think I died till after the miscarriage. I don’t know who did it.”

  Female sobbing sounds immediately moved about the living room. Ryan’s face looked like someone had punched him, and Nellie sat in her chair in tears again. This was when Sonya was truly able to use her gift to help the distressed people on both sides of the physical plane of life.

  “Poppy,” she said firmly, but with compassion, “stop your crying. What’s done is done and your baby is in Heaven where you need to be soon. Tell those you love what +you need to say and I’ll help you go to your child who’s waiting for you.”

  The crying stopped abruptly. It was as if Sonya’s words reminded Poppy of the reality of her motherhood. Yes, maybe the baby had passed over, but it still existed and it might need her.

  “Ryan, I love you, and I’ve been searching for you for such a long time. Ricky told me he would only let me leave him if I told him where the treasure was. I told him it didn’t exist. He got in his car and left. That’s when I fell.”

  Ryan sat motionless and put his head down in his hands and cried. “I’m so sorry, Poppy.” His words were choked with emotion. “I love you, and I always will. God! If I’d known you were pregnant, I’d have never been able to go on. If I ever get my hands on the person who did this, I’ll…I’ll kill them.”

  The air became static-filled and Sonya knew that Poppy was upset.

  “No! Ryan, don’t do anything like that, please. I want you to go on and live your life without any more regrets. Find someone. That’s why I needed to talk with you. It’s time to let go…for both of us.”

  Nellie stood up and went over to Ryan, putting her arms around him. She’d had only a little time to come to some understanding of her own loss, but she understood his grief. Ryan gave her a weak smile.

  “Poppy,” she said firmly, “your mama loves you, sweetheart. Ryan’s going to be fine and he needs to go on with his life. I’ll take care of him, but you need to go on to God and your baby. We’ll make sure your remains are treated with respect. I love you. I love you so much, baby.”

  The air became still, but Sonya knew Poppy wasn’t gone, only resting.

  “I’d like everyone to send her a farewell and ask for her to be taken by those good spirits who have been waiting for a long time to bring her home,” Sonya asked the group.

  Even Zeb lowered his head and, along with the other three in the room, they wished her well. Soon, a loud crack split the air of the room in two. A feeling like they’d all been simultaneously zapped by electricity made them jump in their separate seats. Poppy was gone. As Sonya felt the remains of the ghost’s departing surge gently through the room, she knew Poppy’s passing was the kind all of us hope for — a happy, peaceful one.

  The four people stayed quiet for a few minutes after Poppy departed. Zeb asked Sonya to come into the kitchen to talk, so Nellie and Ryan would have some time.

  “What just happened in there?” he asked, his manner awkward and unsure.

  Sonya saw the liquid in his glass shake from his reaction to Poppy’s passing.

  “I’ve been doing this for years and, quite honestly, what happened with Poppy was extremely unusual. Most ghosts who’ve died under difficult circumstances are so weakened that they don’t have much power to communicate. Poppy’s energy was amplified by her desperation.”

  Zeb shook his head and sat his glass on the kitchen counter. “Mrs. Caruthers, I don’t usually share information with anyone outside my office, but we do have dental records matching the body from the pit. It’s Poppy, but I’m no closer to learning who killed her.”

  “You gained some information tonight that you didn’t have before, Sheriff. Poppy was pregnant, and, if you ask me, someone else knew, too. Maybe that’s why the Turner house was burned down. It is possible someone knew Nellie Turner was coming home and was going to move Heaven and Hell to find out who killed her daughter. I don’t know much about forensics, but if there was any residue from that miscarriage in the house, that’s why it was burned.”

  “Who could have known about Nellie coming home?” Zeb asked.

  “I think we need to ask her because that’s definitely a lead in this investigation.”

  Zeb laughed and picked up his glass, tipping it in a toasting gesture toward Sonya. “You want a job working for me, Mrs. Caruthers? I could use you in all my investigations.”

  “Anytime you want some help, Sheriff, you know where to find me.”

  “Call me Zeb, would you?” he asked with gentle earnestness.

  “Um,” came a man’s voice from the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. “Nellie and I would like to thank you, Mrs. Caruthers. Before I go home, could we talk,” he looked at Zeb, “about how we can find the murderer?”

  “Absolutely,” Sonya said. She’d taken the cake from the hot oven and put it on a wire rack to cool. “But before we do anything, we’re going to have something to eat. Best way to deal with shock, cherry dump cake.”

  Sonya smiled up at them both as she got some plates ready.

  “Something smells wonderful,” Nellie said, coming around the corner into the kitchen. She sat down and gave the other three a sweet smile. “Thank you, Sonya. Knowing my Poppy is at peace and in a wonderful place is a relief. No mother wants to live the life I have these last six months.”

  “Grieving takes time,” Sonya said, bringing the cake to the table and putting it down in front of Nellie. “A piece of cherry dump cake and a hot cup of tea can take the edge off of it, but it’s not an answer. We need closure.”

  Nellie looked at the cake as it sat with steam gently escaping its crumbly, delicious topping. “This isn’t your first rodeo, is it, Caruthers?�
�

  “No, and it probably won’t be my last. After these kinds of experiences, I’ve found that people need something comforting. Warm food, soft beds, and caring people will usually do the trick.”

  They all sat around the kitchen table and talked about their memories of Poppy. There was some laughing and a few tears, but for the most part, they celebrated her life with good cheer. After the stories were exhausted, Zeb got around to asking some more pointed questions.

  “Ryan, on the night Poppy died, were you together?” he asked.

  “Yes, we’d been to Pineville to eat dinner. I’d asked her to leave Ricky and she’d agreed to talk with him that night. She wanted out of the marriage but was afraid he’d try and take her family’s land.”

  Nellie turned to Zeb and asked, “Sheriff, do you think Ricky had someone kill her?”

  Zeb put his fork down neatly across the plate and thought for a second before answering.

  “Something in my gut says it wasn’t Rick. He can be a low-life, but I don’t get the feeling he has her death on his hands. Knowing that Poppy was pregnant doesn’t change things much. Rick wanted to be with Melanie, but having a baby doesn’t mean people stay together anymore. Nellie, is there any truth to the stories about a Turner Treasure?”

  “No, well, not to my knowledge. That was an old tale. For some reason, people believed the Turner farm was taken over during the Civil War by bushwhackers, who had gotten ahold of gold bullion meant for the armory in St. Louis. Neither Herman, my late husband, nor his parents ever gave any credence to that story.”

  “Well, I can’t see someone killing Poppy for it, so it had to be for another reason. Ryan, do you stay in touch with Kathy Berkowitz?”

  Ryan had a mouth full of dump cake, but he swallowed hard and answered.

  “Yeah, I see Kathy a lot. She has our boy, Parker. Kathy lives in Springville and I visit every week to pick up Parker and bring him home for the weekends. Why?”

  “Kathy may have been jealous of your relationship with Poppy. You shared a child and maybe she didn’t want you to be with Poppy.”

  “I don’t think Kathy killed anyone,” Ryan said, his tone a bit defensive. “I’ve had to catch mice in live traps and let them go in the woods for her. She’s never talked about me and Poppy. There wasn’t any point.”

  Zeb got up and went to fetch the coffee pot. Everyone had moved on to beverages with less spirit to them.

  “If someone wanted Poppy dead, it has to be for either: money, love, or revenge. Those are the top three reasons. What we need is a way to flush the killer out. Nellie, did you tell anyone you were coming back to Willow Valley? It’s too coincidental that your home burns down a few days before you are due to arrive.”

  “I did tell Bertha Edmonds but swore her to secrecy. She was related to my husband, Herman. They were cousins on his mother’s side and she lives in Pineville. I wanted to have someone here in case I needed help.”

  Zeb jumped on this bit of information.

  “Did you talk with her about helping you find Poppy?”

  “I told her I hadn’t heard from Poppy and I was worried. She was upset, too, about the situation and said if I needed anything, to call. I’ve been on the phone once a week with that ninny of a sheriff in Springville about Poppy. He tells me every time that they’ve got no record of a Poppy Mitchell living in Springville.”

  “Nellie, why didn’t you ever reach out to our police department in the last six months about Poppy?” Zeb asked.

  “I did!” Nellie said putting her glass down on the table with firmness. “I talked with old Sheriff Dalby. He told me he’d check into it for me. I’ve never heard back from him. I called two months ago and they told me he’d passed away.”

  Zeb shut his eyes and leaned back in his chair. Sonya noticed what a handsome face he had. He let out a sigh and answered Nellie.

  “Yeah, we let Harry Dalby stay on and help out, but he was not doing so well those last few months. He kept forgetting things. I’m so very, very sorry, Nellie.”

  Sonya took a sip of her coffee and put down the cup.

  “Let’s go back to how someone might have known about Nellie coming home. It is probable that Bertha spoke to someone about Nellie’s return and that she’d be staying at Turner farm. I do believe whoever killed Poppy, didn’t want there to be any chance that they’d left something behind at the scene of the crime. Best way to fix that is to burn the house down.”

  Zeb nodded. “It’s possible whoever killed Poppy has moved on. We need a real clue.”

  The room was quiet for a long moment. Sonya sat up straight in her chair with a look of excitement on her face.

  “You’ve got one,” Sonya said forcefully. “Nellie, you’ve had the proof of who killed Poppy the whole time!”

  Chapter 27

  Everyone looked at Nellie like a bouquet of balloons had popped free from the top of her head.

  “What?” Zeb asked with a voice full of incredulity. “What have you got Nellie that you haven’t told us about?” Zeb asked.

  “Heck if I know!” Nellie exclaimed. “Ask her!” She pointed to Sonya.

  All heads swiveled in Sonya’s direction.

  “The letter, Nellie...Please tell me you brought the letter that was sent to you supposedly by Poppy when she ran off to Springville with the imaginary lover.”

  No one moved. It was like they’d all been frozen in their chairs.

  “You’ve got a letter, Nellie?” Zeb asked.

  Nellie nodded. “I do, but not here. I left it with my things out at the farm. If you’ll go get it, Sheriff, I’ll be glad to hand it over to you.”

  “Holy, moly! That’s got to have DNA from the killer on it,” Zeb said as he got up to go.

  “I’m going out to the farm. Ryan, you want to come?”

  “I do.”

  “Wait!” Sonya said, making them stop and turn around.

  “If you get the letter, please, Sheriff, don’t tell anyone you have it. It might come in handy to keep that secret to ourselves.”

  Zeb nodded but teased her a little bit. “Mrs. Caruthers, you telling me how to do my job? I hope you’re not getting any funny ideas about how to manage this investigation.”

  Sonya didn’t answer but gave him an innocent, sweet smile. Zeb grimaced and left with Ryan in tow. The two women returned to the living room.

  “I’m glad they’re gone. Sonya, I’ve got an idea about how to bring the killer out of the woodwork,” Nellie said.

  “When they have the letter, Nellie, they can check suspects against the forensics retrieved from it. The sheriff will have much more to go on then.”

  “Nah, that’s going to take too long. I want justice in my lifetime.”

  Sonya considered her point. “What’s your idea?”

  “What if we let it be publicly known that the body found at The Whispering Pines RV Park was, indeed, my Poppy. People already suspect it anyway. You and I should go to Tilly’s Cafe and talk about the letter. We’ll say how with DNA testing, the letter I have will lead the police to the identity of the killer.”

  “Nellie, you can’t do that. It’s the shortest way to your own cemetery plot,” Sonya said forcefully. “The letter is the perfect bait, though. We need to find a better way than putting a bullseye on your forehead.”

  “I’m going to do it!” Nellie said putting her hand down with a smack on the chair’s wooden arm. “And I’ll tell people I’m staying out at the farm in the barn. That will let everyone know I’m home and alone. I’ll need backup. Will you help me?”

  Sonya didn’t like it. If the killer was still around Willow Valley or the surrounding area, they wouldn’t want that letter to get into the hands of the police. Putting Nellie’s life in danger, and her own for that matter, sounded like a terrible idea, but something occurred to her.

  “Nellie, what if we did tell everyone in town. I’ll get a manicure at Lana’s and tell her to spread the news. We’ll go to lunch at Tilly’s Cafe and let th
e gossip boys at Table Three know about the letter and how you’re going to take it to the sheriff. That will squeeze the killer out and force their hand fast. But to keep us safe, we’ll set a trap for them at the barn and they’ll never see us or even get near us. I do have one question for you, though.”

  “What?” Nellie asked, her face lit up with excitement.

  “Does your barn have a root cellar?”

  “It does and it’s a nice one made of limestone rock. We never used it for our garden crops because we had refrigeration by then, but the kids loved to play in it.”

  “Do you access it through a trap door or through a ground entrance at the side of the barn?” Sonya asked.

  “A side entrance…I get where you’re going with this, Caruthers, and I like it. It’s like a live animal trap. We entice them in with the letter and slam the door shut. Trapped like a rat!”

  “Perfect analogy, Nellie. I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

  The next morning after a light breakfast, Nellie and Sonya generated their plan for bringing justice to Poppy’s killer. When they called Sheriff Walker to see if he had retrieved the letter, Nellie told him her idea. After some initial yelling and explaining about due process and how he wasn’t going to be held responsible for their probable deaths, he finally gave in and promised to check in on them at dinnertime.

  Willow Valley was having a busy morning along Main Street. Tilly’s Cafe was packed with all the locals. Lucky for Sonya and Nellie, the good weather and a special on flapjacks had encouraged a high level of patronage that day.

  “Let’s sit right in the middle if we can get that one,” Sonya pointed to a table that was free.

  They sat down and Marsha, the head waitress, walked over to take their order. Upon seeing Nellie, her progress slowed measurably as if she was trying to place the face.