Alesha Jackson began to hum something that sounded like a hymn. Dickce stole a glance at the psychic in the dim light of the candles. Her eyes were closed as she continued to hum. The sound was soothing, almost hypnotic, Dickce thought.
Dickce closed her own eyes and did her best to concentrate her thoughts. She knew that An’gel’s plan called for a certain amount of deception, and she hoped she wouldn’t give anything away. She tended to giggle sometimes when she was nervous, and An’gel would wring her neck if she giggled tonight and spoiled everything. So she focused as hard as she could on the sound of Alesha Jackson’s humming and the idea of the spirit of the house.
The humming continued, the volume increasing and decreasing occasionally. Dickce began to feel relaxed. The sound was soothing. She could feel the hands she clasped. Henry Howard, on her right, seemed calm and focused. Truss Wilbanks on her left, however, trembled now and then. Dickce gave his hand a light squeeze to try to reassure him, and he seemed to be calmer after that.
The humming trailed off, and Alesha Jackson began to speak again.
“Spirit of this house, we are here to help you. To guide you on to the next plane of existence. You no longer have to be confined by the walls of this house. If you will open yourself to us, we can guide you toward the light of eternal peace. Will you allow us to assist you on your way toward the light?”
When the psychic stopped speaking, Dickce could hear only the sounds of breathing. She opened her eyes and glanced quickly around the table. Everyone was still connected, hand to hand, and everyone except An’gel had their eyes closed. An’gel winked at her, then assumed a serious expression.
Alesha Jackson spoke once more. “Spirit of this house, I know you are troubled. Memories of life and of death have bound you to this place, but you can be free of them. Let me guide you on toward the light. Don’t be afraid. Nothing more can harm you now.”
In the quiet that followed, Dickce heard a soft murmur. Even though she was expecting it, she got goose pimples and had to resist the urge to pull her hands loose to rub her arms. The murmur was only a faint sound at first, but the volume grew slightly, and one word, repeated over and over, became distinct.
“Murder.” The syllables were drawn out, the voice a breathy whisper. “Mur-der. Mur-der.” The word repeated, over and over, in a near-hypnotic rhythm. Then all at once, the volume rose and rose until it suddenly ended in an unearthly shriek.
Dickce shuddered. She had been present earlier when Benjy recorded the whole thing, but still she felt spooked by it. In the silence she heard ragged breathing all around her.
Then the voice started again, whispered for a moment, then suddenly stopped.
Alesha Jackson spoke, her voice now sounding tense rather than soothing. “What is it you wish to tell us, spirit? Speak to us. Reveal everything to us. We are here to help you.”
What happened next came as a complete surprise to Dickce. Her eyes flew open when she felt a rush of air across the table. An’gel hadn’t told her about this. All the candles went out, and then a voice began to shriek. “Get it off me. Get it off me. It’s trying to kill me.”
All at once the room lights came on, and as soon as her eyes could focus, Dickce sought out the source of the screaming.
Serenity Foster, her face distorted by fear, sat shivering in her chair. “Get it off me. Oh dear God, get it off me.” Suddenly she pushed her chair back and ran out the door. Straight into the waiting arms of Lieutenant Steinberg.
CHAPTER 36
At breakfast the next morning, An’gel ate with a great deal of satisfaction. Her idea to use a séance to psych out the murderer had worked, even better than she had hoped. Serenity Foster, terrified by the experience, started talking to Lieutenant Steinberg the moment she ran into his arms, and she confessed everything. She kept begging him to keep it off me, even as he took her into the library to hear her full confession.
The group had been quiet last night. Everyone went off to bed not long after the séance broke up. Benjy disappeared before An’gel could thank him for his help. He hadn’t yet made it to breakfast, although it was nearly eight thirty now. That wasn’t like him.
“You were terrific,” An’gel told Alesha Jackson for the second time.
The psychic smiled and finally responded to the compliment, her tone tinged with amusement. “I told you I could communicate with the spirit of the house.”
An’gel nodded, not really believing her but trying to be polite since the woman had been a great help.
“I was terrified when the candles went out,” Mary Turner said. “I thought I was fixing to die I was so scared right that moment.”
“That was really spooky, but I figured Miss An’gel had somehow rigged it to happen,” Henry Howard said. “How did you manage it?” He looked first at Alesha, then at An’gel. “It was a pretty neat trick.”
An’gel frowned. The extinguishing of the candles hadn’t been part of her plan. She had no explanation for how it had happened. She said that aloud.
Henry Howard turned back to Alesha. “Did you do it?”
She grinned broadly. “Only in the sense that I convinced the spirit to communicate with us. That was the spirit’s doing, not mine.”
An’gel wasn’t sure she believed the psychic, but she preferred not to dwell on it. The sudden darkness had served her plan beautifully, so she wouldn’t question its source. It might even have been what tipped Serenity Foster over the edge.
“Good morning, everyone.” Benjy stood at the threshold of the dining room. An’gel was surprised to see that he looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept much. He also seemed reluctant to enter the dining room.
Dickce got up and went to him. “Poor boy, you look exhausted. Come have something to eat. You’ll feel a lot better.” She put an arm around his shoulders.
Benjy nodded and allowed her to lead him to the sideboard. Dickce started heaping a plate with food while he poured himself a cup of coffee. He seated himself at the place where Dickce set his plate, picked up his fork, but then only stared at the food.
“Benjy, what’s wrong?” An’gel was concerned. He always had a healthy appetite. “Something is obviously bothering you.”
Benjy gazed at her with troubled eyes. “I had trouble sleeping last night after what happened. I was seriously creeped out by it.” He turned to look at Alesha Jackson. “Did you feel it, too?”
The psychic nodded. “Yes. You didn’t imagine it.”
Benjy appeared only slightly relieved by Alesha Jackson’s response.
“Feel what?” An’gel asked.
“The cold.” Benjy shivered. “I’ve never felt anything like it, even though it barely touched me.”
Dickce said, “I know what you mean. It feels like nothing on earth.”
An’gel stared at Benjy. He wasn’t putting on an act. He had really felt something last night. She looked at Alesha Jackson. “What exactly happened?”
“We called, and the spirit responded,” Alesha said. “The word murder evidently had the effect you wanted, but not exactly in the way you expected.”
“Are you telling me that the spirit reacted to the word by going after the murderer?” An’gel said, unnerved by the idea. She had believed Serenity Foster cracked under the pressure and the weird nature of the séance last night.
“Yes,” Alesha Jackson said. She gazed with sympathy at Benjy. “I felt the spirit the other day on the stairs. That cold aura surrounded me when I wasn’t expecting it, and I nearly fell down the stairs.” Now she looked at An’gel. “You were there; you saw it when it happened.”
An’gel nodded. “I did, but frankly I thought you were putting us on.”