Jeff smirked at his partner. “I don’t think Blair Geister’s up to anything at the moment, unless… Are you seeing her ghost now too?”
“I’m talking about what she was up to with the hunt for the Pangram Box. She’s acting out the ghost story.”
“Hugo Hickory?”
“The Pangram Box is Zyus’ lost heart. That’s why it moved before we could get it. Now it’s somewhere else in this house, and I bet you it’ll move again when we get close to it.”
“Are you saying the Pangram Box won’t ever be found?”
Emory shook his head. “It has to end up somewhere. Whether that’s an accessible place, I don’t know. Did she put in that contingency about not damaging the house while searching to torment Zyus? Would she be that cruel?”
“I know some Easter Island heads and rooftop gargoyles who’d be giving you the side-eye if they heard you ask that.”
“A feud with a neighbor is one thing. Hugo Hickory deserved his fate, but does Zyus Drake? No, she said in the will that this was a test of guilt – to see if she were truly responsible for what happened to him. What point would it serve to have a predetermined verdict? I have to believe there is an endgame. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to get there.”
“Okay. Where’s the next hiding place for the Box?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.”
“Well, think about it during the movie. Pick a bottle, and let’s go.”
Emory grabbed a random cab and followed Jeff down the hallway to the movie theatre, where they found Virginia in the projector room.
Jeff unloaded the chips and glasses onto a shelf. “Did you figure out how to get it running?”
“I think so. Blair has a huge video library. Any requests?”
Emory put down the wine. “I’m fine with anything.”
“Action.” Jeff pulled a corkscrew from his pocket and opened the wine. “And turn up the volume. I like to feel my movies.” He filled each glass. “All right everyone, take a glass and a bag, and let’s get this movie started.”
Emory followed Jeff down the aisle but stopped at the third row from the front. “How about here?”
“We don’t have to sit together.” He proceeded to the middle seat in the front row. “I’m in seat C if you need me.”
Emory took a seat two rows behind him. “I think I’ll be okay.”
The lights dimmed, and the screen lit up with a caravan of Humvees – and one Fun-vee – driving through the desert to the tune of AC/DC’s Back in Black.
Jeff reclined his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. “I love this movie.”
Virginia slid into the third row and sat a couple of seats from Emory. “I knew this would make him happy.”
Meanwhile, Emory kept thinking about the Pangram Box. He stared at the picture of the Hugo Hickory painting on his phone. By the movie’s midpoint, he’d finished his wine and half a bag of veggie chips. He stood and mouthed, “Bathroom,” to Virginia before exiting the theatre. As he walked down the hall, he glanced at the open door to Juniper Crane’s bedroom and the broken TV on the floor. “I wish I understood what happened in there.”
He detoured to the bedroom and stood before the fallen TV. He touched the jagged edges of the broken aluminum mount on the wall, and pieces of it crumbled in his fingers. “What could’ve possibly done this?” He noticed a black spot behind the mount, half on the wall and half on the ceiling. “More water damage.”
Emory took pictures of the stain, the mount and the back of the TV. He turned his phone to the door and snapped a picture of the spot where Tommy Addison had died, according to Juniper. He walked to the doorway and photographed that view of the TV, mount and stain.
A thought occurred to him, a strange memory from his childhood. “In the woods. Could that…”
He left the room and ascended the back stairs to the main floor. He proceeded to the den to re-examine the water damage stains on the floor and ceiling. He snapped pictures of both before heading upstairs to Blair Geister’s bedroom. He stared for a moment at the homemade sign he had taped to the door, proclaiming the room a crime scene.
I won’t disturb anything. He entered the room, turned on the light and scanned the hardwood floor for signs of a water stain. He stepped inside and glanced at the hole in the floor where the metal panel had been – a couple inches from the left leg of the headboard. He squinted, trying to estimate distances. “It would probably be near the head of the bed.”
Dropping to his hands and knees, he looked beneath the bed but couldn’t make out anything in its shadow. He turned on his phone’s flashlight and held it before him. He crawled under the bed and found it – a dark spot similar to the others. He snapped a few pictures and crawled out.
“Is it even possible? I need to find out.” His eyes wandered from the bed to the holes he had hammered into the wall. He shook his head and left the room, returning to the theatre in time for the movie’s climax.
Once the credits rolled, Virginia was the first to pop up. “I’ll get the lights.”
Emory asked, “Was it everything you hoped for?”
Stretching, Jeff turned around to reveal a broad smile. “Yeah, I definitely want to see if we can convert the basement in our office to a home theatre now.”
Emory met Jeff in the aisle. “How about I make us all some dinner?”
“I’m actually really tired. I think I’m just going to head to bed. You and Virginia go ahead.”
Virginia came out of the projector room. “I’m going to crash too.”
Emory held the theatre door open for his partners. “Okay, I’ll lock up.”
When the three PIs headed for the stairs, Virginia eyed Jeff. “Where are you going?”
Jeff grabbed the handrail. “Eden is staying in the guest room, right?”
Emory hesitated to answer. “Yes.”
“And you moved the bed in Blair’s room, so it’s no longer dangerous.”
“True, but—”
Jeff started up the stairs. “I’m not going to pass up a chance to sleep in a solid-gold bed.”
In Blair Geister’s bedroom, Jeff stripped down to his boxers and hung his clothes on the arms of a reading chair in the corner of the room. He started toward the bathroom but remembered, “My toothbrush is in my bag, downstairs.” He licked his teeth. “I guess I can go one night without brushing. Sorry Mom.”
He turned off the overhead light and slipped under the covers on the left side of the golden bed. He raised his right hand to touch the bars of the headboard. “Solid gold.”
Within ten minutes, he was sound asleep, his hand still clutching the bar.
From one of the holes Emory had bored into the wall by Blair Geister’s bed, something crawled out. It hesitated for several minutes, as if trying to find its bearing in this new world. It descended to the floor and toward the gold leg of the nearby headboard.
One of its eight legs tapped the metal like it was gauging the temperature of bath water. Satisfied, it ascended.
The brown spider with the black fiddle on its back continued to the lateral bar at the top of the headboard and waited.
When it sprung to life again, it attempted to descend one of the interior bars but lost its footing. The spider fell onto the underside of Jeff’s forearm.
Once the shock of the fall abated, the spider crept onto the pillow, toward Jeff’s face.