Fixing To Die

“I’m so sorry,” the young woman said. “But that’s the kind of thing that’s always happening. Phone calls get cut off, our e-mails don’t go anywhere, all kinds of odd things. That’s why I wrote you an actual letter instead of e-mailing you.”

“Heavens, this really is a mess,” An’gel said, shocked by Mary Turner’s words. “I wondered why you chose a letter. I can’t remember when I last received an actual handwritten letter from anyone.”

Mary Turner sounded grim when she responded. “So far the ghosts haven’t been able to stop the post office from working.”

“It’s no wonder you and Henry Howard are at your wit’s end,” An’gel said. “Sister and I will be there around lunchtime on Monday, if that’s convenient.”

“That’s wonderful,” Mary Turner said. “We’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

“We’re glad to help,” An’gel replied. “Now, there is one thing. We’d like to bring our ward, Benjy, with us, along with our dog and cat, Peanut and Endora. Will that be all right?”

“You bring whomever you want,” Mary Turner said. “The more help, the better. I’ve heard that animals are especially sensitive to the supernatural.”

“You and Sister,” An’gel muttered. Then she spoke so Mary Turner could hear properly. “Thank you, my dear. Help is on the way.”

“See you on Monday.”

As An’gel laid the phone aside, she reflected that, by the end of the call, Mary Turner had a new note in her voice. She sounded hopeful, An’gel decided.

She was glad she’d managed to make Mary Turner feel better, but she wondered whether she and Dickce had committed themselves to solving a problem that would turn out to be more than they could handle. She figured a real live human being was playing tricks on the Catlins for some unknown purpose, but Cliffwood was an old house. Many sad and unpleasant things had happened there, particularly before, during, and right after the Civil War.

An’gel didn’t believe in ghosts—not really—but there had been odd things that happened at Riverhill over the years. Doors closing on their own, the occasional cold spot in a room, small objects moved from their accustomed spots—nothing all that frightening, An’gel reflected, but odd. Definitely odd.

She and Dickce, along with Benjy, would have to keep their wits about them at Cliffwood, she decided. She wouldn’t let odd things frighten her away.

•   •   •

The moment Dickce mentioned the word ghosts to Benjy, he grinned.

“Awesome.” He looked down at the Labradoodle at his feet. “What do you think of that, Peanut? Are you ready to track down some ghosts?”

The dog gazed adoringly into the young man’s face and barked twice. Benjy patted his head. “That means yes.”

Dickce smiled and continued to stroke the Abyssinian she held in her arms. “What about you, Endora?”

The reddish-brown feline yawned and stretched, then began to purr.

“Sounds like they’re both in,” Benjy said. “How long do you think we’ll be there?”

“I hope it won’t take more than a week to get to the bottom of what’s going on,” Dickce replied.

A snort sounded from the direction of the stove. Dickce looked over to see the housekeeper, Clementine Sprayberry, arms folded over her chest, frowning at her.

“You and Miss An’gel don’t need to go hunting ghosts anywhere,” Clementine said. “Especially Natchez. I reckon you’ve heard how haunted it is. You’re just asking for trouble if you go and stir things up.”

“That’s even more awesome.” Benjy laughed. “A whole town that’s haunted.”

“You laugh all you want to,” Clementine said. “I bet you’ll be the first one out the door ten seconds after some horrible thing wakes you up in the middle of the night and tries to get you.”

“What kind of horrible thing?” Dickce felt a chill at the conviction in the housekeeper’s voice. She knew Clementine believed in spirits, and she herself had never made up her mind about them.

“No telling.” Clementine shook her head. “Terrible things happened all over that town for three hundred years, and you don’t know what might still be lurking.”

Benjy’s expression of amusement faded, Dickce noticed, in the face of Clementine’s unrelenting certainty. He turned to Dickce. “How bad can it really be? I don’t know anything about Natchez.”

“There are a few books on Natchez in An’gel’s study,” Dickce said. “The town has a fascinating history, and you might want to do some reading before we go. Terrible things happened during the Civil War when the Union Army took over the town, and Natchez was a violent place in its early days. The books will give you all the details that I can’t remember.”

Benjy brightened. “Would Miss An’gel mind if I went in there right now to look for the books? If she’s really busy, I don’t want to disturb her.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind, even if she is busy.” Dickce knew her sister was as pleased about Benjy’s interest in reading as she was. They had high hopes for him when he started Athena College the coming spring semester.