27-Mar-2020

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27-Mar-2020

A murder, a ghost, and a desperate man.

Herman glanced at Jacob, noticed his relaxed posture—leaning back on the settee in an easy manner with his legs crossed—and copied the other man’s position.

It felt odd to slouch, even the smallest bit, but Herman endured the wrongness about it and gave Miss Marie Axton his most practiced smile.

Miss Axton gave him a slight nod, her blond curls bouncing at the side of her face, before turning her attention back to Father Lester.

The good father wore his traditional religious attire of a long black tunic and white collar. He had dragged a small table into the middle of the room. The clawed feet carved clean lines through the dust on the floor. He spoke in a deep, rumbling voice, that contrasted his meek appearance. “We are here to find the murderer of Abigale Rose.”

The words vibrated through the air, and Herman shivered. He glanced beyond the small circle of furniture to where the rest of the house lay under large sheets and spider webs. Dust hung in the air, coating his tongue and muffling the sunlight coming in through the single window they had uncurtained.

Jacob shifted a little, and kept his eyes locked on nothing. Miss Axton smoothed her skirts. The other two women in the room put their hands over their mouths. One let out a little squeak.

Father Lester reached deep into his black tunic to retrieve a long, wooden spoon, which he then lay on the table. Then he dropped to his knees, and began to pray silently.

Herman caught Miss Axton’s gaze over the father’s head. “How was your Christmas holiday?”

Her blue eyes went wide. Her lips moved once, but she closed them and started again.

She’s certainly struck by my sincere inquiry, Herman thought. How could she not be?

“Shhh,” Jacob hissed along with shooting Herman a scowl.

Herman smiled and nodded, and kept his eyes on Miss Axton. “I heard you went to town?”

She gave him a single nod.

Was she blushing?

Herman kept the satisfied smile from his lips.

“Have you no respect?” one of the other girls asked in a harsh whisper.

Father Lester’s booming voice overcame all other sound. “Abigale Rose. One year ago today your life was taken by a fiend and a villain. One of such brutality that their very existence is offensive to the heavens and the earth.”

A shiver ran up Herman’s spine. Miss Axton’s face turned an ashen gray. Jacob shifted again, and a frown creased his lips.

The other two women looked around as if expecting the fiend to snatch them next.

Herman opened his mouth to speak words of comfort to Miss Axton, but Father Lester interrupted.

“Abigale Rose, we are here to sooth your soul. If any in this room were involved with your death, point the spoon toward them.”

The group, less Herman, took a collective breath. Silence fell like a blanket. The slight gasp one of the other girls let out in response to nothing at all, seemed the loudest thing they had ever heard.

Herman had been in the sitting room with several ladies at the party, not near Abigale, who had only invited him after he had promised not to speak to her. He had nothing to fear from her ghost.

So he caught Miss Axton’s brilliant blue eyes, the shade of which matched the summer day outside, and spoke. “How are your parents?”

Father Lester didn’t move a muscle, but a silent command to be still seemed to push into Herman’s mind.

Herman did not allow any distress to show on his face, but raised his eyebrows in silent expectation of Miss Axton’s answer. Her lovely face had drained of all color, drawing out the beauty of her eyes.

The spoon twitched.

“I’m not feeling well,” Miss Axton said. She locked gazes with Herman. “Perhaps Mr. Norton would be willing to escort me outside.”

Herman beamed. She had finally submitted to her feelings. “Of course.” He started to rise, but stopped when Father Lester threw out a hand. A heavy weight fell on Herman’s shoulders, and he collapsed back to the settee.

Miss Axton’s jaw dropped open, as she too was pressed down.

The spoon began to turn. Slowly. First at Jacob, then one of the other girls. It took so long to do so, that both of the other girls began to scream, and continued to scream as the spoon moved past each one of them and to Herman.

Herman sighed.

Everyone in the room looked at him with fear.

He waited.

The spoon did not slow as it went past him.

Past him and then settled on Miss Axton.

She let out a little squeak.

Herman wanted to go to her, she needed comfort, but the same pressure that had reseated him, kept him in place. His own eyes turned to the spoon, and he frowned when it floated off the surface of the table.

“Miss Axton had something to do with your murder?” Father Lester asked. Tap once for no, and twice for yes.

The wide end of the spoon hit the table once, the sound dying in the circle of people.

Miss Axton put a hand on her breast and sighed in relief.

Tap.

“No,” Miss Axton whispered. “I didn’t do anything…” Her voice trailed off as the spoon came toward her. Floating. Accusing. Not wavering its course.

“No,” Herman said. Miss Axton was the last woman in town who had not rejected him. She had to be the one.

Father Lester stood. His eyes blazed red. “Miss Axton, confess, or we will force a confession.”

Miss Axton burst into tears. Sobs. Gibberish.

The invisible hand holding him relented, and he slouched back.

The other girls began to wail.

Without thinking, Herman reached out and patted one of their hands. “There, there.”

When the fingers grabbed onto his, Herman smiled. Perhaps there was hope.

***
I admit, I giggled while writing this one. Also, I had to look up who DeVerl was in The Single’s Ward. There’s not much on him, but needless to say he’s desperate to find a girl, and not very smooth with his approaches.

Genre – Historical Murder Mystery
Character – DeVerl’s Doppleganger from The Singles Ward movie
Setting – Haunted House
Random Object – Wooden Spoon


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