With the Graveyard of the Atlantic lining the coast of North Carolina, it should be no surprise that there are just as many ghost stories as there are sunken ships. From the rage of terrible storms wiping out entire crews to abandoned boats showing up without a soul aboard, these stories are rooted in truth and brimming with dark mystery. And almost as if people are looking for them, these stories are easy to come about. Since I’d been in Tipee, I’d inadvertently inspired two myself. Thanks to Darryl Chambers’ murder, Beach Read was haunted (or could be) and, of course, there was a lot of speculation about the redheaded woman I saw. With the full moon that night and the sea smoke slipping onto the island, it was easy for locals (the few who didn’t jump to the conclusion that I was crazy) to grab onto a supernatural explanation. And though I don’t believe in them, even I’ve been forced to wonder, on occasion, what might be living amongst us, unseen.
The Haunted Bookstore party drew the biggest crowds of all. The tourists and vendors that had flocked into town for the Octoberfest celebration tomorrow enjoyed the ghostly nightlife, coming to the party in makeshift ghost costumes. Sheets, toilet paper, hospital gauze were all used in costume making, giving the party a fun, recycled look.
Now that we were well rehearsed in the art of dressing up, Henry and I put ourselves together easily. Painted white faces. Dark liner around the eyes. Dark and dusty suit for him. My hippie-Victorian dress for me.
The store looked amazing. Chris and I had taken old (but clean) Peacock sheets and transformed them into ghosts across my tall ceilings and along the balcony. We’d set up a book display highlighting great ghost stories: A Christmas Carol, Hamlet, The Haunting of Hill House, The Turn of the Screw, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, and a myriad of modern tales and collections. We capped off the decorations with ravens from Poe’s party, and dead and dried black roses (that I’d thankfully taken and hung upside down to preserve). It looked like a dark heaven.
The finger foods were delightful and delicious, thanks to Mike who had yet to grow weary of helping. Strawberries dipped in white chocolate and decorated with ghost faces. Hard-boiled egg ghosts. Ghost shaped meringues and truffles. Cucumber sandwiches and a variety of cheeses cut into ghost shapes. Mike had outdone himself again.
But, it wasn’t the easiest party to get through. While everything was just as perfect as the Frankenstein Fright Night, I wasn’t myself. With a nearly full moon adorning a clear sky overhead, patrons spread out. I dashed between the rooftop and the store, back and forth, trying to make sure everything was going well and I couldn’t keep an eye on everything. There were more guests than usual, many faces I didn’t know, and with the costumes, it was hard to identify even the ones I did know. And with so many heads covered in sheets, I became uneasy. Plus, Sam was working, leaving me without my anchor.
The party forced me into a constant state of panic.
The distraction of chatting with people, specifically my relatives – Grandma Betty, Mamma Rose, Rachel and Raina – provided some relief. But, there were a few times when all I could do was slip out the back door by the dumpster and under the stairs, take a few deep breaths and try to stop my hands from shaking.
The first time, Chris noticed, and upon my return asked if I was okay. I quickly smiled, told him I was, and made some remarks about how awesome the party was going. The fourth time was during Henry’s reading of a selection from The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, when the crowd had gathered round the store and his voice incited a hypnotic peace. I opened the exit door, wedged a book into its automatic lock, and crouched down on the concrete landing, hidden by darkness, a dumpster, and the wooden planks of the stairs.
The party would end soon, I reminded myself. Henry’s reading typically inspired purchases and then the party would soon fade, hopefully leaving Henry and me with stacks of counting to do. I started to calm down.
Footsteps and a loud clank – like the shutting of a door – brought me out of my peace. Someone hocked a loogie on the other side of the dumpster, and a moment later, a flick and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the air. I froze.
“Glad that shit’s done,” a male voice said, blowing out a sigh.
There was no audible response, but I heard the shuffling of feet.
“Can’t wait for tomorrow,” another voice returned, surprisingly loud.
They both chuckled. “Candy ain’t never been so sweet.” Laughter filled the alley. The two headed passed the dumpster and around the corner right in front of me. They wore sheets over their heads, with holes for their eyes and mouths, but I didn’t need to see their faces. Ricky Wakefield and his friend J.J. I was certain of it. I stayed still as a statue, praying they wouldn’t see me there. My heart thudded and hands shook uncontrollably. The two rounded the corner of Beach Read, out of sight. Though my panic hadn’t abated, I slipped back into the party.
Henry was still reading, audience riveted. My re-emergence captured the attention of Willie, of course, who’d camped out behind the counter, and Chris, who glanced up from his phone to see me come back in. I took a page from Willie’s book, and perched on the barstool behind the counter, trying to hide my hands. Calm down. Breathe. Maybe I should call Sam.
There was no time to think. As predicted, Henry finished and a solid line formed at the counter, keeping me very busy. The next hour passed this way, and slowly the crowd fizzled out.
Even though they’d been wearing sheets, I hadn’t noticed Ricky Wakefield and his friend in the store all night, but the ghost costumes could have kept them hidden. Likewise, I hadn’t noticed David Love until he came to the counter with two books to buy. He was dressed in his normal work garb – a Love Rentals t-shirt, shorts, flip flops. He smiled timidly at me, and I gave him a half-smile.
“So, is the verdict in yet?” he asked. “Will TIBA get their money?”
I grinned, trying desperately to swallow my unease. While a success, this party wasn’t one of my better ideas. “Looks like TIBA’s not going to get their donation after all, I’m happy to say.”
“Good,” David Love replied. “If you give a child everything she wants, she’s libel to become quite spoiled.” He laughed, and I couldn’t help but to smile at the comparison. “When I first opened Love Rentals, your aunts raised a tizzy about me rentin’ Segways and dune buggies.”
“Why?”
“Said they were tacky,” he returned.
“Sounds like them.”
“I won that battle,” he said, handing me his credit card, “and I’m glad that you’ve won yours.”
“I appreciate that,” I replied, and asked, “Mr. Love-”
“Call me Dave.”
“Dave, you were a guest at the Peacock party-” He stopped my question with an embarrassed laugh.
He chuckled. “Made a dang fool outta myself.”
“Well, you have your reasons,” I allowed. “I was just wondering if you saw anything unusual when you left, perhaps in the parking lot or the outside of the house?”
It was a long shot, I knew, but I had to try, especially since he was here and being so talkative, unlike the last time we talked. He shook his head. “Naw, and I couldn’t have. Kayne and his goon followed me out there and taught me a well-deserved lesson about what happens when you drink too much and cause scenes at parties.”
I cast him a confused look. “What happens?”
“You get your ass kicked,” he laughed.
A light bulb went off in my head when I remembered what Delores Kenning had described at the Peacock party. “Were you shoved in a trunk?”
“Think so. I was outta my mind that night and many nights since, but it’s no excuse for actin’ like that. It’s just… well, Lucius Kayne really screwed me.”
“That’s what I’ve been told.”
“Ricky took responsibility for the fire in my wife’s lab, but the school still tried to sue her for damages. By the time Kayne was done with them, they ended up handing her a check.” Love stopped to chuckle at the irony. His face fell again. “So, after my wife died during her hospital stay, it made perfect sense for me to hire Kayne in a malpractice suit. I wanted to secure a nest egg for our daughter. Was the least I could do, right? It’s what she would’ve wanted. The case was strong, but for some reason when we were close to winning, I got duped into signing a negligible settlement, pennies compared to what I was owed.”
“How’d he dupe you?”
“Same way I always get into trouble,” he shrugged, “got me drunk.”
“For someone who’s been through so much, you certainly have a good attitude about it,” I noted, stuffing his books into a bag and handing him a receipt.
He shrugged again. “Helps when I don’t drink and when I keep things in perspective. Battles against your aunts, TIBA, these can be won. Battles against the Kaynes can’t.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I returned weakly. “Depends on your arsenal.”
Dave smiled. “I ain’t so angry ‘bout it anymore. Kayne and I… well, we’ve come to an understanding. I’ll see you ‘round the neighborhood.” Dave winked, grabbed his bag, and made way for the next customer.
The store cleared out, leaving Henry, Willie and I with cleaning up and counting the till. Though I was relieved the party was over and my future in Tipee (at least for now) was secured, my mind spun. I should be celebrating, but instead, I was fretting.
Ricky Wakefield and J.J. Lucas had been here, right under my nose. Why were they here? Had my worst fears been realized? If Ricky was my attacker, was he here getting his secret kicks? My parties had given criminals freedom to walk in and out of my life.
On top of those fears, I thought about Dave. His information proved something I didn’t expect. If he told the truth, then Wake and Lucius Kayne, who’d so mysteriously vanished from the party right before the girl went missing, were busy. They couldn’t have had anything to do with the woman because they were in the parking lot with David Love, teaching him a lesson mafia-style. And for that matter, David Love had an alibi now, too. In her crazy way, Delores Kenning verified his story. The demons she saw stuffing a body in a trunk could have been Kayne and Wake taking care of Love.
My scattered brain forced me to count the till three times before finally satisfied that I’d done it correctly. I took the money and paperwork into the back office to enter it all into the computer and lock it away.
That’s when I found the picture.
It happened just the way, I’m sure, the deviant had intended. I’d come around my desk, sat in my chair, and then looked up. I jumped and stifled a scream.
Taped to my computer screen was a picture of me. I snatched it down, after I caught my breath, and stared at it, all the frightening moments of my attack tidal waving down on me. An enlarged shot of my face, knife pressed to my neck, tears streaming out of my eyes, an expression ripped with fear, and unbelievably, daring. Do it, I’d angrily thought. Do it.
Ghosts were real, after all, and they wanted to play.