The Cathville Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 2) Page 3

  Chapter Five

  §

  “Try using your third eye,” I yell to Maybelle. She spins around in my direction, knocking the kneecaps of innocent customers with her cane on the way to my booth. The woman’s as blind as a salamander and has been for as long as I can remember, but it doesn’t slow her down despite the damage she leaves in her wake.

  “You have a vision or are you and Arthur gossiping about me again?”

  “What do you mean again? You can’t gossip about your own children. Everything you do is our business.” She yells this loud enough for everyone in the diner to hear as she slides into the booth. It’s not the first time she’s hollered about our business to anyone who’s in ear shot.

  Maybelle is a beautiful and strong Navajo woman with long white hair and a proud history deeply etched into every inch of her face. I owe my psychic abilities to my grandmother; not just because I inherited them from her, but because she started teaching me the path of vision when I was still in the cradle.

  Those lessons were much to the chagrin of my very proper English mother, Lacey. It wasn’t until Lacey’s death when I was thirteen that Maybelle told me how much she respected my mom. I doubted it then as I do now, but I know she loved her almost as much as she does me and Arthur.

  “Arkansas has got your Choctaw and Quapaw,” she says, like a school teacher. “Probably won’t run into any of them though. What’s so important that you have to do it while living out in the woods?”

  “An ecto-mist,” I say.

  “Weak energy field, still not one to take for granted. Ticks them off that they can’t materialize, but if they tried harder they could. Watch for the ghost lights. That’ll help you locate the spirit. What do they call the place you’re going?”

  “Cathville.”

  She nods, takes my hand, and closes her eyes. After a couple of minutes, she opens them like she sees perfectly. “This is sacred land you’re going to. Not our people. Still don’t belong to the white man. Belongs to those who loved and cared for the land. Not those who abuse it for profit.”

  This last part I knew she’d say and not because I’m psychic.

  “One watches over it. That one was betrayed, lied to. Watch your tongue. I know you won’t. Remember to give back two-fold whatever you take. Leave the land better off for your being there. What do the people who hired you want to do with this land?”

  “Build a supermall,” I say.

  “Sounds like something they’d do. You can’t go alone, child. This land holds tight to ancient ways. Ways that have powers beyond yours and mine. There’s revenge buried deep in the soil and an omen– a promise made long ago. It’s too deep to ever uncover, and you shouldn’t try.

  “The snake knows the secret, but don’t be fool enough to think it’ll tell you. The snake spirit sheds its old skin for new, and that’s not something your stubborn bull spirit accepts easily. Maybe it’s time it does.”

  Maybelle closes her eyes, and I see streaks of red and charcoal swirling about her head.

  “You’ll come across those who practice ‘iiniziin there.”

  “Witchcraft?” I say, too quickly.

  “Some black magic. More likely African voodoo. Not anything you’re skilled to handle. Nothing your ancestors knew. Something the white man caused when he forced the black man from his own land.” Maybelle shrugs.

  “There’s nothing in your blood to protect you. If Agustina was here where she belongs and not in some ashram in India, she could provide you one of her spells, hechizo, or some of her herbs. But is she here? No—

  “Have some pizza, Mom,” Dad says, cutting off our conversation. Maybelle sees things Arthur doesn’t always think should be shared. He believes what you put out there you bring to life and make it a part of your own, if you’re not careful.

  “Roasted corn, peas, and black olives. I’m putting it on the menu and calling it Maybelle’s Delight.”

  “You do and I’ll have to shoot you. Besides, you know peas give me gas. Why’d you put them on it?”

  “Because you love them,” Arthur says, and kisses the top of her head. “You convince her to take Levi to Arkansas?”

  “Seriously? This is nothing more than an ambush. You two are working against me.”

  “We do what’s best for you, child. We want you to live long enough to give us the next generation, and someone to make that happen even if he isn’t Navajo. At least he’s not….”

  “English,” I say, finishing Maybelle’s sentence for her. She often forgets that she’s the only one of us who thought Lacey was a little too aristocratic instead of the sweetest person we ever knew. Arthur just laughs. He says my mom’s distinguished manners were one of her most enchanting qualities. Arthur talks that way.

  “It doesn’t matter what the two of you plot against me. I’m done with Levi, and I’m sure not taking him to Arkansas with me.”

  I barely listen to the rest of the lecture. Never give up on those you love. Forgive and forget. Soul mates, destiny, and always a favorite of the Raven clan, grandchildren.

  Arthur goes back to the grill to get ready for the dinner rush. Maybelle gives up on the warnings and sales pitch on reuniting me with Levi so she can quiz me about my last job in Roxbury.

  As usual, the discussion is more of a critique. She doesn’t approve of my using the Ouija board; thinks I should do more chanting instead. She nods when I tell her I used the sage and rock salt, as if I would ever do otherwise. She tells me she’s the one who sent me the cowbird feather that landed at my feet as I was getting ready to drive to Texas. She worries about what she’ll have to do if I’m going to survive the Arkansas woods on my own. Before she can start on Levi again, I tell her I have to go.

  I’m Maybelle’s ride home, so I have a while longer to listen to her wisdom and nagging. I help her into the jeep and pull onto the highway.

  “That man you met while you were gone last. You going to throw away all your years with Levi for him?”

  I’m focusing on the road, but I’m barely seeing it. I didn’t say a word about that man to anyone, including myself since I’ve been back home. It’s painful to be so close to someone who can step into your deepest thoughts, ones even you don’t want to visit.

  “Don’t let anger make your decisions for you,” she says, when I don’t answer.

  “I’m not. I’ll always love Levi and he’ll always be a good friend, but I want someone more stable. Someone who doesn’t take so many careless risks.”

  It’s rare that my dignified and serious grandmother does more than politely smile– she’s more like Lacey than she’ll ever admit– but right now she’s busting a gut. It only lasts a few seconds then she’s back to spouting her words of wisdom.

  “Levi’s like looking in a mirror, child. You hold it up and see yourself. You both test how far you can go before you reach the end of the cliff. You get there and you look over to see how far down you’d have to fall before you hit the bottom of the canyon.

  “Levi fell. You’ve got the rope to help him back up. That’s what you do when you love someone. You help them back up. You’d expect the same thing from him. You can be sure from him that you’ll always get that rope. The other man? Where’s he? Levi’s here.”

  “We’re here,” I say, pulling into the driveway of Maybelle’s home. I help her out of the jeep and lead her up the walkway. She grabs my arm tight after I open the front door.

  “Dry your tears, child. You need to prepare yourself. This land you’re going to is the bottom of the canyon. You’ll need more than the wolfdog on this journey. You’ll need someone who’s always got a rope for you.”

  ∞

  Mojo has his steak eaten before we get home. I’m almost forgiven for leaving him with Miguel and for the rose geranium essential oil bath he got while he was there.

  Maybelle’s rope analogy was a good one, but it’s Detective Clayton Acker in Roxbury, Texas, who’s on my mind. When I look into the mirror and see him, there are no c
liffs.

  Cathville is a fourteen hour drive from Las Trebol, straight across the great state of Texas. I want to get an early start, so I start packing as soon as I get home. First though, I check my email and send Dexter a message that I’ll be at his real estate office at ten o’clock on Thursday morning. That will give me plenty of time to enjoy the trip, but not enough time to stop in Roxbury.

  As soon as I walk into my office, I feel something’s different. I forgot to put away my tarot cards, something I never do. That’s not the problem though. The cards I had laid out for Anna are all face down. Something I sure didn’t do.

  One card is upright, and I don’t doubt it’s meant for me. It’s the Fool, marching along, singing his fool tune, and about to walk straight off the cliff.

  Chapter Six

  §

  “Okay,” I tell Mojo, after my last trip loading the jeep the next morning. “Guess we’re ready to hit the road.” For some odd reason, he’s anxious to get out the door.

  Being part wolf, Mojo’s a methodical animal. He analyzes before he acts and considers his alternatives before he attacks. He’s never been silly, puppy dog hyper. Arthur says Mojo was a Navajo Chieftain in a past life. Right now, the Chieftain isn’t acting all that regal.

  “Excited to be going to Arkansas?” I ask. He only glares at me before going to the door.

  I watch him with suspicious eyes as I double check the stove and heat and locks and tarot cards. The Fool card? If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Maybelle came in and put that card on my desk. Short of Anna’s spirit trying to communicate, I have no other way to explain it. Still, I’m a believer in the supernatural and sometimes, the spooky impossible.

  When I open the front door, Mojo bolts. Before I follow him out, I turn back and say, “Anna, if you’re here, make yourself at home and I’ll be back in a week or so. Feel free to vacuum and wash the windows so you don’t get bored.” I listen, but she isn’t talking or rattling the doors or throwing the silverware.

  The woman’s gotten under my skin. I continue to debate about calling the police. I hate to think she’s all alone, dead or alive, but what would I say? My tarot card client was a no-show? You may want to check with some authorities to see if they’ve contacted her?

  I collect my clients’ email addresses for my mailing list, but I don’t get their phone numbers. I don’t even know what state the woman’s in, let alone her last name or her real first name. Other than my sixth sense read on Anna, I don’t know a single thing about her, except that question.

  What authorities was she worried about? There’s a big difference between the IRS and the FBI. Both unpleasant, but for vastly different reasons. I regret not being able to tell her the authorities would find out sooner or later. They always do.

  While I’m busy listening for a reaction to my cleaning instructions, I hear a voice that sends cactus needles down my spine. Mojo has betrayed me.

  I shut the front door and focus on getting to the jeep. “We’re on our way out of town,” I say, giving the wolfdog an I’ll deal with you later look.

  “I was afraid I might miss you,” Levi says, as he lets Mojo in the back seat and opens the passenger door.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Going to Arkansas, same as you.” He’s already putting on the seat belt.

  “Not with me you’re not. Get out of my jeep, Levi Cardona.”

  “My stuff’ s already loaded in the back. Be a shame to have to move it now. Besides, there’s no need to take two vehicles. This way we can trade off driving. Safer that way.”

  “Did Maybelle put you up to this?” I ask, still standing outside my jeep.

  “If it wasn’t for her and Arthur, I wouldn’t even know you’re still on the planet. I’m going to Arkansas, no two ways about it, so don’t get your pretty bullhead all twisted up. I’m going to some redneck woods in Cathville, Arkansas, to hunt down some spook with you. I can follow you in my car or ride here alongside you. Either way won’t change the outcome.”

  “Where is your car?”

  “Arthur dropped me off.” Levi flashes me his brightest Colgate smile.

  “Listen, I don’t blame you for getting manipulated by those two, but I’m serious about moving on… without you.”

  The words catch in my throat and I look away. This is the first time I’ve ever said them so plain and cold to the man. I didn’t expect to feel like I just got a knife stuck in my gut.

  Levi’s nodding his head, still smiling, just not as happy, and I’m biting back tears.

  His voice is soft and kind. “That don’t mean we stop knowing each other or helping each other out. Besides, I was locked up for eight months. I’m itching to go somewhere to clear my head and blow off the stink. Might as well be somewhere I can also catch a squirrel and barbeque him, visit the first ever Walmart and buy me something cheap, maybe even chew me some tobacco.”

  “How special. You googled Arkansas.” I say, and Levi’s back to being happy.

  He’s never been one to hold a grudge or let his feelings stay hurt a second too long. I wish I could be more like him and hope I never am because I want to take my life more seriously, for some reason. At least enough so that I don’t end up in jail.

  “Okay,” I say, because I know I don’t have much of a choice, short of calling the police who happen to like Levi a whole lot more than they do me. “Here are the ground rules. You’re paying for half the gas, getting your own hotel room, and keeping your hands to yourself. And I don’t want you going on and on about things for the next fourteen hours. I need to focus on what I’m doing.”

  “What are you doing, Jack? Here’s what I think you’re doing: being a whole lot full of yourself. Don’t you worry none. I’ve got money and I packed my good manners. Wait, what do you mean hotel? I thought we were staying in the woods.”

  “We are only if you brought yourself a tent. Boy, I seriously have to find a new town or state or country to live in or stop talking to my nosey relatives and so called friends.”

  Levi laughs and turns on the radio. We ride listening to a Mexican radio station, a cross between rock and country that’s fond of a group called the Wall Of Voodoo. Their music’s good, but I don’t think their name is a good omen.

  The dry winter air is slipping in my cracked window, bringing the scent of pine and sage wood and burning cedar to calm my nerves. I should have seen Maybelle’s scheme coming and lied about the time I was leaving this morning. I breathe deep and say a prayer for me and Levi and Anna and even the authorities.

  We’re all the way to the Rip and Roar Truck Stop in Lubbock when I remember something about criminals not being allowed to leave the state. It would do Arthur and Maybelle justice if I ended up in jail for harboring a fugitive. Even more so if they had to come all the way to Arkansas to bail me out.

  “Don’t you have a parole officer you have to check in with?”

  “Stop your worrying. I took care of that. Said I was doing some excavation work on the Cathville Supermall. Arthur vouched for me.”

  “What’s your parole officer’s name? I should vouch for you too.”

  “Hah. Only need one person to attest to my good intentions, so no need to trouble yourself.”

  ∞

  It’s near midnight when we pull off the interstate just outside Fort Worth at a Motel 6. We walk to our side-by-side rooms, and I lock the door behind me. No sooner do I, than Levi’s knocking on it.

  “What do you want?” I say, without opening the door.

  “You promise you won’t take off without me, don’t you?”

  He’s silent and I think he’s left, but no such luck. “You know it was only a misdemeanor, right? I know you do. Everybody including you knows Adam set me up. I told you my boss was a crook. I didn’t know the guy was laundering money. I was just doing my job and putting my name all over his illegal activities. I know you know I’m not lying to you, so what’s the real problem?”

  “I’m tired. I need to get so
me sleep. I can’t think straight right now.”

  “Okay, we’ll talk later, tomorrow. Over breakfast. Biscuits and gravy. Lots of hot, greasy Texan gravy.”

  “Night, Levi.”

  Chapter Seven

  §

  Before I left home, Dexter sent me photos of the property and I’m eager to check them out. As always, I like to get a preview of the place I’m going so I can start sensing the spook vibes before I get there. I make myself comfortable under the blankets and check my phone.

  For some reason, Dexter sent me marked up photos that show where his supermall is getting built and an outline of the parking lot. Looks like someone got a new phone app for Christmas.

  On a few photos, he put big X’s showing me where he and the others, as he wrote, had their echo mystic experience. It almost sounds dirty put that way.

  There are close ups of vegetation, bugs, skinny trees, and curiously enough, well-worn dirt bike paths. Seems like the locals aren’t bothered by the echo mystic. It must be the heavy equipment that’s stirring it up.

  The photo that really catches my attention is of a young woman who is pointing and smiling wide at a tall birch tree. Crawling up that tree is a ringed snake that looks to be ten feet long.

  I feel like I’m spinning on a merry-go-round looking at the woman. “What’s your story?” I ask, as my fingers hover over her. She’s not talking, but seems happy enough. When I open my eyes, she’s blurry for a second.

  I focus on the creature next to her. Snakes are peculiar spirit animals and ones I find hard to be fond of. This one is brown and black and beanpole thin. Snakes are all about transformation and primal energy. He’s probably more the message than the woman. A cautionary message, I suspect.

  Look at the snake, Jack. Watch him make you shed your skin. What did Maybelle say? Something about the snake knowing the secret and not being fool enough to think it will tell me. He’s making my skin crawl, so I decide not to ask.