“Can you imagine what that’d be worth?” Papa said.
Bumby threw him a sharp look. “It’d be priceless, and go straight to a museum.”
“Like hell.”
Ernie’s face was still white as the sand on Smathers Beach. “He’s here right now, watching us, I can feel it. So can we please shut up about this? I think we should just get outta here.”
Bumby took the Ouija Board out of Ernie’s grasp and put it on the floor. “We need to find out who the murderer is. And he’s the only one who can help.”
“And what if it’s him?” Ernie said.
Bumby took a deep breath. “Then I suppose our fate lies in his hands.”
“You’re both idiots,” Papa said, and went over to the brick in the corner. He extracted the pages and tucked them into a shirt pocket.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Bumby said.
“Keeping these safe. I don’t trust nobody no more but me.”
“I thought we agreed to keep them there for now? Who gave you the right to choose?”
He held the gun up. “Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson.”
“Cretin,” Bumby muttered, and turned back to the Ouija board. “Just get over here and help us.”
Papa looked at the closed door, ran his tongue along his teeth, then shook his head and joined the others around the Ouija Board. He tucked the gun in his pants and placed his hairy paw on the planchette with the others.
They moved the plastic wedge in slow circles around the board, then paused in the middle, Papa’s slight wheeze the only sound in the room.
Bumby said, “Is anyone there?”
Nothing for a long moment, and Papa’s mouth started to break into a sneer. Then the planchette lurched to one side of the board, hovered near the edge and then darted, all three hands hovering right on top of it, to the top right corner.
-YES-
“Did you do that?” Ernie whispered.
“Not me,” Bumby said. “Papa?”
Papa swallowed his sneer. “No,” he said. “It wasn’t me.”
“Oh God, he’s here,” Ernie said. “He’s here and he’s furious.”
They stopped talking when the planchette started moving again.
-MAX-
“Max?” Ernie said. “Poor Max.”
“Max was also his editor,” Bumby said, then spoke to the board. “You want to speak to Max?”
The planchette seemed confused, hovering back and forth between Yes and No.
“Did you speak to Madame Gertrude today?” Ernie said.
The planchette started a slow glide.
-YES-
Ernie sucked in his breath, then looked around the room. “Is anyone else with you?”
-YES-
“Who?”
No answer.
“Is it Max?”
-NO-
“Pauline?”
-NO-
“One of your sons?”
-NO-
“Lovers?”
-NO-
“Then who is it?”
The planchette dropped to the middle of the board, and all six eyes were riveted on the wedge as it moved with purpose from letter to letter.
-CANT SAY-
Bumby said, “Why not?”
-CANT-
“Who gives a damn about this crap,” Papa said, then leaned in. “Hey there, listen up. Who’s killing people around here?”
The planchette stopped moving.
“Did you hear me? I asked you a question. Who’s killing people?”
Still no answer, and Bumby said, “Is it someone in this room?”
-YES-
Bumby sat back, and Ernie grew pale. Papa sneered and said, “That’s great, you fellas really cracked this case. Hey Hemmie, I got a question for you. Is Bumby a bad writer?”
-YES-
“Is Ernie a washed-up drunk?”
-YES-
“Am I going to be rich and famous?”
-NO-
“Am I Santa Claus?”
-NO-
Papa gave the board a satisfied smirk. “Who am I then?”
-DEAD MAN-
Papa’s smirk faded.
Ernie’s eyes were wild, but he kept his finger on the planchette. Bumby said, “I know you’re confused up there, or wherever you are. But we really need your help. Do you have any advice for us?”
The planchette started moving quickly around the board.
-ALL WICKED THINGS WERE ONCE INNOCENT-
Bumby grimaced, then glanced at the others before he said, “We need advice on what’s happening here. What should we do?”
-A MAN CAN BE DESTROYED BUT NOT DEFEATED-
“This is worthless,” Papa said. “One of us is just quoting the Man from our subconscious.”
“Why’d you ask Madame Gertrude for help?” Bumby said.
The planchette quivered but didn’t move.
“Are you in danger?”
-YES-
“That’s ridiculous,” Papa said. “He’s dead. The old bugger probably thinks he’s at war, or about to be caught with his pants down.”
“Let us help you,” Bumby said. “Why’re you in danger? Who’re you afraid of?”
-NOT AFRAID OF ANY MAN-
“Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” Ernie said. “Hey, are you angry with us?”
-YES-
“For what?”
-NEED HELP-
Papa threw his hands up. “I can’t take this nonsense any more.”
Bumby said, “Are you saying we need help, or you do? Who’s the murderer? Is it one of us? Someone we know? Who needs help?”
The planchette began a furious dance across the board, the three gnarled hands looking absurd jerking back and forth above it. Bumby read the words aloud as they came.
-GET HIM AWAY CANT SEE THE LIGHT HELP ME PAULINE CANT LEAVE THE HOUSE HES TOO STRONG HE WONT-
A loud crack shattered the silence, and then the sound of broken glass somewhere on the property above them. Half a second later a deafening alarm went off.
Papa lurched to his feet. “That was a gunshot! Let’s get the hell outta here!”
Bumby scrambled to get the board and they ran up the stairs in a panic. By the time they reached the door the house alarm had shut off. They sprinted for the wall, and when they passed the caretaker’s house they saw Lester standing on his narrow iron balcony with a shotgun in his hand.
“Shit,” Papa said, but he had already seen them.
“Y’all okay?” Lester called out. He was a wiry little man with a wrinkled face and a bulbous nose, and bunches of short curly hairs sprouted on his arms and out from underneath his white tank top. He had on a pair of tattered work pants and his hair and clothes were disheveled, like he’d just crawled out of bed. “Someone just shot out a window. Damn Conch kids, I swear I’ll put a slug in their skinny asses when I catch ‘em.”
Papa had the pistol hidden behind his right leg, and he slipped it into the back of his pants. “Scared the shit out of us,” he said. “You sure it was kids?”
“It’s always them kids. They get us about twice a year. Y’all might want to get over that fence before the deputy gets here. Soon as that bell sounds they’re on their way, don’t matter if I call ‘em or not. House rules, s’pose they got to tell the insurance men they checked it out.”