The Smoky Corridor

63

When Daphne DuBois was absolutely certain Azalea Torres was gone, she unlocked the bottom drawer of her filing cabinet and pulled out a rolled-up tube of paper.

She spread the wrinkled sheet on her desk, weighing down the four corners with a stapler, a tape dispenser, and two ceramic apples.

CHILD YOUNG SETH SEER GOLD

The words Madame Marie had scribbled while communicating with the ghost of John Lee Cooper practically leapt off the page.

CHILD YOUNG

Daphne had been quite clever, spending time socializing with the school’s outcasts, the weaklings the popular kids picked on or simply ignored—the way she would have ignored them if she hadn’t been desperate to find her own Seth Donnelly.

She needed, as her heroic ancestor had said from beyond the tomb, a ghost seer—the same phrase Zack Jennings had used to describe himself to his raccoon-faced girlfriend.

After weeks and weeks of work—pretending to be sweet, sitting every day at the nerd table, smelling miserably malodorous cafeteria food, feigning enjoyment of the company of the school’s biggest losers—after a month of sheer hell, she had finally found her child.

Zack Jennings.

It made sense. Jennings was a sensitive sort. Always wasting his time worrying about others. Warped by a runaway imagination. Too compassionate, even to his dog.

She rolled the sketch paper back up. She returned it to the file drawer and pulled out the two small chalkboards sandwiched together, what the medium had called her spirit slates. She undid the strap.

During Madame Marie’s séance, the spirit of John Lee Cooper had written a message inside the chalkboards, words that the medium herself never had the opportunity to read, since Eddie had killed her shortly after she’d come out of her trance.

FIND THE BOY

BEWARE THE GIRL

Daphne assumed that the girl was Azalea Torres. If, as she claimed, she was related to the Yankee scallywag Captain Pettimore, she could prove problematic. No matter. Eddie would deal with Azalea. The ugly Goth girl would be dead before sundown on Saturday.

Daphne chuckled softly.

The thought of Azalea dead truly tickled her.

With all that ghastly makeup on her face, she looks half dead already.

Daphne needed to call her brother. Let him know they were a day away from redeeming their family’s honor. A day away from reclaiming the Confederacy’s gold.

She dug her cell phone out of her purse. Pressed speed dial number one.

Her brother answered on the first ring.

“Yes, boss. What’s up?”

“Eddie, I found him!”

“Our ghost seer?”

“Yes. Young Zachary Jennings.”

“Are you certain?”

“He confessed to a friend this morning. She, in turn, came to me.”

“What if this Jennings boy is just making it up, calling himself a ghost seer to impress the girl?”

“I sense he is for real. He fits the profile. However, if it turns out he’s lying, we’ll kill him, just like we killed the dowser and Madame Marie.”

“Good. When do we …”

“Tomorrow. I’m inviting Zack and two of his closest chums to come on a Saturday-morning field trip to the cemetery so he can receive further instructions from John Lee Cooper.”

“This is wonderful news, Daphne. Must I keep pretending to be a janitor?”

“Yes. Just for one more day.”

“All right. You’re the boss. I’ll catch up with you this afternoon. Seems Mr. Crumpler has another toilet for me to unplug.”

“Eddie?”

“Yes, Daphne?”

“Generations of Coopers, the living and the dead, are very proud of us today.”

“I know.”

“One more thing: Tomorrow be sure to bring your pistol. And at least three bullets.”