Chapter 30
CHAPTER 30
F rom there Bess, Nettie, and I make our way to the island’s one and only famed haunted mansion. We catch a shuttle and meet up with the next excursion in record time.
And as if on cue, those blue skies are replaced with thick boiling clouds the color of soot and a chill in the air that feels as if it came straight from the North Pole.
A tall, daunting, haunting structure looms ahead with its darkened windows and creaky shingles as if daring us to enter. It’s a Tudor-style building, white with lots of dark wood running down every few feet in stripes, and it looks downright cozy, in a spine-chilling sort of way. There’s a pumpkin patch in front as an ode to the season, but it’s fitting year-round.
It’s the exact kind of mansion that I’d like to curl up by the fire and read a good book—a horror book.
Another chill seems to fill the air, and this time it has nothing to do with the temperature.
“If I see a ghost, I’m calling dibs,” Nettie announces as we approach the front door.
“If you see a ghost, I’m running in the opposite direction,” Bess says, her voice tinged with her typical blend of sarcasm and practicality .
I give a tight smile to Merritt and she scowls right back.
“I hate to break it to you both, but I just so happened to bring my own ghost along.”
“I am not your ghost.” Merritt’s voice warbles like only a disembodied voice can do.
“Trixie, why didn’t you tell us she was here?” Bess looks around superstitiously before picking up my hand and Nettie comes on the other side of me and does the same.
It turns out that I act as sort of a bad game of telephone when it comes to hearing the dead. Just about anyone can hear clear through to the other side if they happen to be touching my flesh. And both Bess and Nettie are aware of that fact—thankfully, so are Wes and Ransom.
“I didn’t want to say anything on the shuttle over because you could have heard a pin drop. And heaven knows I don’t want those poor people to question my sanity.”
“Why not?” Bess deadpans. “They’re already questioning ours.” She looks around in front of us. “Merritt, you caused quite the scene back at that picnic and Nettie and I had to clean up your mess.”
“Actually”—Nettie holds up a finger—“technically, we were making the mess right alongside her. You’re quite the spook, you kook, and I mean that as a compliment.”
Merritt huffs, “Coming from you, I’ll take it as one.”
We follow the crowd through a garden area with tall hedges before entering a darkened foyer. The air is cool and holds the scent of crisp fall apples. The wood floors are stained dark, there is enough damask wallpaper lining the place to cover the planet, and all sorts of old-timey pictures hang along the entry hall. And each and every one of them gives me the creeps.
A woman dressed as a zombie-looking French maid cups her hands around her lips. “Welcome to Prince Edward Island’s premier haunted mansion! Everything here is original or an antique, and very much haunted, so please be mindful while enjoying our exhibit.”
A titter of chatter circles the downstairs in response.
“Hear that?” Bess gives Nettie a sharp look. “Try not to trip over any of the historical artifacts while you’re fleeing the scene,” she snips. “We don’t need another incident like the Maritime Museum.”
“And why would I be fleeing the scene?” Nettie laughs it off.
“Because I have a feeling the only thing haunting this place is bad luck. And you happen to be a magnet for it.”
“Not true.” Merritt is quick to debunk her claim. “Apparently, this place is haunted by a wealthy Englishman named Dr. Jack. He built this place from the ground up and used it as an inn. He’s hot, he’s wealthy, and he’s dead.”
“Just your type,” I muse her way.
“Just my type,” Nettie says, letting go of my hand. “Let me at him. Oh, Jackie, boy! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” She charges ahead like a bat in flight who has no fear of a broken hip on the horizon.
“I’d better go after her,” Bess cries as she takes off, too. “She’s bound to get into trouble!” Her voice reverberates off the walls and sounds like a ghostly howl all on its own.
“There’s trouble, all right,” I say, shooting Merritt a look while I walk us over to a dark corner in a dimly lit, rather empty room that looks like it could be the parlor.
The room is riddled with cobwebs that may or may not be authentic, depending on how dedicated the staff is to setting the mood. And yet, this room, too, holds the scent of aged wood and dust—like history frozen in place, waiting to be unearthed.
Merritt floats behind me, her face contorting as she lets out a guttural screech that echoes through the dusty walls. I turn around just in time to see her eyes bulge, and her mouth sprouts fangs, giving her that monstrous appeal one would think she was after for her entire life.
“Would you stop that? What is your problem with me?” I try to swat her out of exasperation. “All these years, and I still can’t figure out what I did to deserve a lifetime of backstabbing and deceit.”
Merritt returns to her original ornery form—gorgeous features, albeit blue, with her perfectly coiffed long dark hair with no sign whatsoever of menopausal thinning. But her eyes are blazing like twin infernal flames, and the rage is still very much exuding off her body.
Before she can respond, Ransom bursts into the room.
“There you are,” he says, slightly out of breath.
He’s wearing his signature dark suit, his dark hair is slightly mussed as if he just sprinted across the island to find me, his dark facial scruff is making my fingers twitch, and that spiced cologne of his kisses me before he does. He wraps his arms around me and lands a proper kiss on my lips.
“Wes went to find Bess and Nettie,” he says with his brows furrowed. “Bess messaged and said there was trouble.”
“Oh, there’s trouble, all right,” I say, rolling my eyes as I motion for him to give me his hand. “Merritt is here.”
Ransom doesn’t hesitate. His strong hand wraps around mine, and I nod before us as his eyes, too, look in that direction even though he can’t see the shimmering figure doing her best to spook us.
“What does she want now?” he whispers as if he didn’t want her to hear.
Merritt crosses her arms and huffs like a petulant child. Her form flickers like a flame about to be snuffed out. But then, I’m not that lucky.
“I want justice,” she says, her voice eerily steady. “And not just for my murder. I want justice when it comes to you, Trixie Double Double Toil and Trouble .”
“Well, I’ve heard my name said every which way, but that is a new one,” I muse to Ransom before looking back at the pesky poltergeist at hand. “Justice?” I scoff. “Regarding me? For what? For you trying to ruin my life over and over? For always finding a way to stab me in the back?”
Merritt’s face twists into a sneer. “Oh, come off it, Trixie. You act like you were some innocent saint, but you know exactly why I did what I did.”
I inch back and glance at Ransom.
“No, I really don’t,” I say to the woman. “What could I possibly have done to set you off like an unhinged psychotic for the last thirty-five years?”
“You stole John Mackenzie out from under me!” Merritt thunders and her voice shakes every last window in this place. A collective ahh comes from the foyer, followed by a few loose screams.
“What are you talking about?” I shake my head at her.
“Who is John Mackenzie?” Ransom whispers close to my ear and a warm shiver runs through me because of it.
A heavy sigh escapes me. “He was some boyfriend I had way back in high school. My first boyfriend. I’ll admit, I fell hard, but I didn’t know any better at the time.” I shake my head at the confused entity before me. “Merritt, I did not steal John away from you. It was the exact opposite. You made sure he cheated on me, and that was the end of that.”
Her entire face glows like a hot coal as her anger sharpens. “ He was the love of my life, ” she roars.
“The love of your life?” I repeat the words, and yet I can’t seem to wrap my head around them. “Where is this coming from? Is this some sort of malfunction you’re having because you happen to be missing a brain? And I’m not being facetious. I really want to know.”
“I said what I said.” She gets right into my face and belts out the words. “I loved John Mackenzie with all my heart! Everyone knew that. Everyone else was steering clear of him so he could find his way to me, but instead he bumped into you.”
“But we dated for two years. You never said anything,” I practically howl.
“I didn’t think I had to,” she riots back. “Besides, fate intervened one night at a party—a party that you were not invited to.” She tips her head at Ransom. “I arranged for that little detail myself. A little music, a little booze, and soon he was right where I wanted him—alone in my bed. But did he stay there? Noooo . He went right back to you with his tail between his legs, confessing, apologizing, and begging you to take him back.”
My mouth drops open. “You really loved John Mackenzie?” I blink, still trying to wrap my head around this new information. “Merritt, I dumped him after he cheated on me—with you! Why didn’t you go after him?”
“I wanted to.” Merritt’s expression suddenly goes blank like a child who just lost her favorite toy. “But then we graduated, and months went by, then years. I lost track of everyone it seemed, and by the time I found him, it was too late. He was dead,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I gasp, my heart lurching painfully in my chest. “What? How? When?”
Merritt’s eyes grow distant, her gaze shifting to something only she can see. “He died of a drug overdose in an alley,” she says with a hollow voice.
“Oh my word, that’s terrible,” I say.
“I’m sorry,” Ransom adds somberly. “That is tragic.”
“He was an alcoholic, too.” Merritt sighs and a sea of miniature blue stars spew from her lips. “I spoke to his brother. He never got over you, Trixie. He spent the rest of his days wishing other women would magically turn into you, but they never did. Nothing filled that hole you left in his heart. He regretted cheating on you until the day he died. He wished he was your husband—that your kids were his kids, too. He tried to keep it together, but he couldn’t. His demons won out, and his biggest demon was you .” She’s back to growling like a demon herself.
My mouth hangs open. My heart aches for the boy who was my first love—or at least I thought he was. And judging by the pang in my chest, maybe he really was, despite his flaws.
I turn to Ransom, who’s watching me carefully, and his eyes soften with concern. I shrug, trying to lighten the mood even though my heart feels heavy.
“What can I say?” I offer with a mournful smile. “I’m a hard act to follow.”
Someone steps into the room and breaks the spell as we look that way.
“Oh sorry.” The gentleman laughs, and I recognize him instantly. “I didn’t realize the two of you took the phrase get a room literally.”
“Kimball Spicer,” I say sharply. “Get over here. There’s always room for one more.”
My old friend is about to tell me everything he knows about the day Merritt Garrett bit the big one and became one big celestial thorn in my side.
Merritt just ended the mystery of why she spent so many years despising me, and it’s high time we end another one—who sent her to an early grave.
Kimball steps over and sheds a dark smile. “You know me, Trixie. I’m always up for a good time.”
I lift my chin a notch.
But is he up for murder?