eight

Marcy started up the eerie music again. She was the only one not in the circle. She dimmed the lights until the only source of light was the candle.

“Hear us, oh great spirits from beyond!” Merlina intoned, eyes closed. “We come seeking your guidance.”

There was a momentary bit of silence, and Merlina opened her eyes a slit. She looked at the other women. They were all staring at her. She hissed under her breath, “I forgot to ask, who are we looking to contact?”

No one said anything. “Alice, we’re doing this for you,” Charlotte whispered. She was sitting next to her, so she gave Alice’s hand a squeeze. “Is there anyone you want to contact?”

Alice’s eyes widened. “I haven’t had time to think this through. Can I have a minute, please?”

Merlina tapped her foot loud enough for everyone to hear. “While the connection to the spirit world is open,” she said through gritted teeth, “we need to move.”

“I have someone I’d like to contact,” Francine volunteered. “That will give Alice time to think. I’d like to contact Doc Wheat.”

Joy wrinkled her nose. “Who? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention him before. Is it a relative?”

“No. Well, not that I know of. But he’s the person who originally owned the property William was on, the one next to the Roseville Bridge. Supposedly he buried his wealth on the land.”

“Oh Doc Wheat!!!” Merlina called out with a shaky voice. “You who once lived in this area! Come to us now! We seek your wisdom …” She let her voice fall off as she finished the last word.

All the women held their breaths. Except for Merlina, they glanced at each other wondering what would happen next. As nothing did, they let their breaths out. Merlina opened one eye. “He seems to be unavailable.”

“Well, isn’t that a bummer!” Mary Ruth said. “The only person we want to contact and he isn’t there. Where is he?”

“I don’t know where he is. I only know he’s not available.” She closed her eyes again. She cleared her throat. “Oh spirit of Doc Wheat!! We need your presence! There are people here who seek your knowledge.”

Again there was anticipation. Merlina huffed a little. “This is unexpected. I almost always have success, especially when we’re so close to where he lived.”

“I agree,” Mary Ruth said. “This close we ought to have a better connection. Are you trying to contact him in 4G? Maybe 3G is too slow.”

Merlina ignored Mary Ruth. “Are there any other spirits here who could help us? Someone who knows Doc Wheat?”

For the third time, silence settled into the room.

Merlina’s shoulders started to sway back and forth. Her head lolled back. She moaned as though she were struggling with something. Then she jerked forward and slumped on the table, the side of her head lightly hitting the wooden top.

The women stared at her. Francine, who was seated adjacent, prodded her on arm. “Are you all right?”

Marcy rushed to her side. “Shhhh. She’s in touch with a spirit. Let’s wait to see who it is.”

Alice sat up. “I just thought of someone I’d like to contact. I’d like to talk to my husband’s mistress, Jake Maehler’s mother. I’d like to know why she thought it was a good idea to seduce my husband, and why she didn’t tell him about his child. And I’d like to know if she thinks I should take him back. Heaven knows, I want to, but I’d just like to hear why this whole thing happened in the first place before I—”

Alice didn’t get any further. Merlina sat up and stared directly into Francine’s eyes. “It’s burning,” she said. “Burning. Now. And you’re responsible.”

“What?” Francine could see that Merlina wasn’t really looking at her. Her dark eyes were vacant. Open, but vacant.

Merlina turned away momentarily to look at Charlotte. “And you know why.”

“Why what?” Charlotte asked.

“Why it’s burning.”

“No, I don’t.”

Marcy got up in Merlina’s face. “Who are you?”

No response. “I said, who are you?” she repeated.

Mary Ruth put her hands on the table and pushed herself up. “This is nonsense. I’m going to get some water to drink.”

Merlina swung her head toward Francine again. “In the end, that was what I wanted too, the water. And he gave it to me. But it had more in it than I thought.”

Francine tilted her head to the side. She thought of the vial William had been carrying when they found him on the creek bank. “William? Are you William?”

Merlina gave no response.

“You can’t be William. William’s in a coma.”

“Unless he’s passed away since you saw him last,” Charlotte offered.

“Well, that’s a happy thought,” Mary Ruth snapped.

“At least I’m trying to be helpful.”

“What’s burning?” Francine asked Merlina.

No response.

Francine gripped her by the shoulders. She got more emphatic. “What’s burning?”

Merlina’s eyes rolled back in head. She pitched forward toward the table, but Francine had hold of her and stopped her from crashing onto it. Marcy grabbed Merlina and the woman began to shake uncontrollably. Between Francine and Marcy they lowered Merlina to the floor, where she settled into fetal position. Her shaking faded until it finally stopped.

Joy’s cell phone went off. Her ringtone was the “March of the Storm Troopers” from Star Wars, so the noise was disconcerting. Joy answered it, running into the front room so as not to disturb the others.

“What just happened here?” Francine demanded from Marcy. “Is this a normal occurrence during a séance?”

“I don’t know.” Marcy sounded frightened. “I’ve only been through a couple of them with her. This is the first time she’s reacted so violently.”

“I hope she’s going to be all right.”

Joy re-entered the room clutching her cell phone. “I know what’s burning. The station just called me about it. I have to get over there.”

“Over where?” Charlotte asked.

“Roseville Bridge. Roseville Bridge is engulfed in flames and it looks like it’s going to be a total loss.”

There was a collective gasp from the women. For a moment, no one knew exactly what to do. Then Joy said, “I have to go get my purse. Does anyone know how to get there from here? I’m not sure I can find my way back.”

Charlotte threw up her hands. “Wait! Why don’t you just call the Channel Six news van? Aren’t they here?”

“Good idea. I forgot!” She disappeared again into the other room with the cell phone.

“We should go, too,” Charlotte said. “You know the way there, Francine. You can drive.”

Francine’s voice caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure how to take any of this. Was Merlina faking it? Francine didn’t believe in séances and ghosts and spirits inhabiting people. But if Merlina was a fake, she was doing a good job of being convincing. She was still passed out on the floor.

Marcy patted Merlina on the cheeks. “Wake up, wake up!” She turned to Mary Ruth, who had crossed her arms as though she didn’t believe any of this. “Are there any smelling salts in this house?”

“Kosher or regular?”

Marcy narrowed her eyes. “You know what I mean. Help me out here. Please.”

Mary Ruth gave an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll go look.”

Charlotte pulled on Francine’s arm. “We need to go. Seriously. Sheriff Stockton will be there. He probably needs our help.”

Francine was not convinced. “I seriously doubt that.”

Mary Ruth re-entered through the kitchen doorway. “No smelling salts, but I did find some ammonia. Will that work?”

“Worth a try,” Marcy said. “Thank you.”

Mary Ruth knelt down next to Marcy. She unscrewed the cap on a white quart-sized bottle of household ammonia. Marcy propped up Merlina’s head and reached for the bottle. She shoved it under Merlina’s nose.

It took a moment for Merlina to breathe it in. Then her head kicked back like she’d been hit with an undercut. “What? What?”

Marcy continued to cradle Merlina’s head. She handed the bottle back to Mary Ruth. “You’re okay. You were in a trance.”

“Did I connect with someone?”

“I’ll say you did,” Charlotte exclaimed. “It was a wrong number, but you got a live one. Or dead one, I guess. At any rate, we heard from the spirit world.”

A horn blared from outside. Joy rushed in, holding her phone aloft. “Excuse me, excuse me! I’m glad Merlina is fine, but the station is here and I need to get going.” She turned to Francine. “You’re bringing the others, aren’t you?”

Francine felt so confused. “I guess. Let me find my keys.” She rifled through her purse, which was still lying open from when she searched for the tea bags. She found the keys to Jonathan’s truck, but of course, he would have taken that. “The key to the Prius has to be in here,” she said.

“If she can’t find her keys, can I ride in the news van with you?” Charlotte asked Joy. “You’ll want to interview me. After all, I’m supposed to know who did it.”

“No,” Mary Ruth corrected, “you’re supposed to know why. Francine’s supposed to know who.”

“Who did what?” Merlina asked. She tried to stand.

Marcy helped her up. “We can fill you in on the way.”

“We don’t all have to go,” Alice said.

Merlina shook her head, trying to snap out of her trance. “Where are we going?”

“Roseville Bridge,” Marcy responded. “It’s burning down.”

Francine rattled her key chain. “I only have a Prius. I can’t take everyone.”

“We can take two cars,” Marcy said. “I’ll follow you.”

“Why are you going?” Alice said.

“I’m going because my star client is going to do a live remote from a spot where history is being made for the second time. This is the biggest story in covered bridge history since the Bridgeton Bridge got torched.”

“She’s right about that,” Charlotte said. “2005, if I remember correctly.”

“I don’t need to go,” Alice said. “Sounds depressing. I’ll stay back and drizzle the scones.”

Charlotte put her arm through Alice’s. “I think you should be there,” she said under her breath, “to encourage Joy. I’m betting that handsome Sheriff Stockton will be there.”

The Channel Six news van drove speedily, leaving them in the dust. The women drove in tandem—Francine with Charlotte, Alice and Mary Ruth in her Prius, and Marcy with Merlina in her Malibu. They made their way to Coxville Road, but couldn’t get within a quarter mile of the Roseville Bridge before they were stopped by police. Smoke billowed in the sky above them. Swirling red and blue lights surrounded the immediate vicinity. Beyond that, close to the bridge, they could see firefighters moving about in the dirty haze. They moved slowly in their bulky firesuits as they handled the hoses spewing water toward the inferno. It seemed to be a futile effort.

A sheriff’s deputy forced them to park on the grass off the side of the road. A pumper truck edged by them, heading for the fire. Francine figured there wouldn’t be any fire hydrants nearby, but she hoped they could pull water from the creek. She knew some fire departments had special devices that could do that. The bridge was too remote from Rosedale, which was the closest town.

Joy got out of the news van and forced her way around the blockade, trying to get closer to the fire. She held her iPhone aloft as though it were a microphone. “But I’m a reporter,” she insisted.

The deputy was a man with wide shoulders and a thick neck. It was clear he wouldn’t budge. Finally she dug around in her purse and located her station ID. She flashed it at him. “See! Channel Six news. Now please let us through. That’s my cameraman behind us.”

“Doesn’t matter who you are, you’re going to have to do your broadcast from back here.”

“But if you’ll just let me get a little closer … Maybe you can let me through to the Rock Run Café? I could set up in their parking lot. I’d be out of the way.”

The deputy shook his head. He used his night stick to draw an imaginary line from the barricades through where they stood. He didn’t say anything, just walked back to where other emergency personnel had gathered.

The women clustered helplessly at the invisible barrier the deputy had drawn. Joy stamped her a foot on the grassy landing. “I bet they wouldn’t treat Barbara Walters this way.” They watched as smoke and soot raced from the lick of the flames and swirled away into the sky.

“No, they probably wouldn’t,” said a male voice. They tried to locate where the voice had come from. Then they noticed an older man pushing through the crowd.

Detective Stockton took off his cowboy hat and nodded at the women. “Lieutenant!” he called, returning the hat to his head. The officer returned to the barricaded area.

“Yes, Detective.”

“Please escort these women over to the Rock Run. Allow the Channel Six van to get through. We’re setting up an area in the parking lot for the press.”

The deputy saluted, clearly unhappy with the order. “This way, ladies.”

Joy waved to the truck to weave its way through. She sidled up to Detective Stockton. “Thank you, Roy,” she said quietly.

He tipped his hat to her. “Be careful now.”