Gemstones
and
Gravestones
The Haunted Seniors of Specter County: Book 1
Written by Sandra Whinnem
Cover design by Rita Toews/Art by Pushkin
Copyright 2015 Sandra Whinnem
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For Sal and Phyllis--R.I.P.
Chapter 1
Betty slept soundly, lulled by the steady drumming of rain falling outside her bedroom window.
She dreamed of a plump old woman who walked falteringly through a dim alley; her knurled hands gripping the sides of a rusty walker. Hidden in the shadows, a man waited; his eyes on the enormous handbag that sat atop the walker. The man crouched low, drawing a knife from his pocket as his target approached. Lunging suddenly, the thief seized the giant bag; toppling the old lady’s walker as he fled.
Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the tiny room. Betty moaned and clutched the pillow.
Her dream shifted, and Betty now saw an elderly man clutch his cane and cringe as a large, brutish looking man approached. The thug rolled up his sleeves and began beating the old man. The attacker’s face split in a cruel smile; revealing a toothpick clenched between his teeth.
*****
Betty awoke to the sound of her clock ticking. She opened her eyes to a translucent figure sitting on the edge of the bed. After peering through the shadowy form to read the clock on the dresser, Betty sat up, ran her fingers through her thin grey hair, and took a set of dentures from a glass beside her bed. Yawning tiredly, she put the dentures in her mouth and began wandering around the bedroom, donning random articles of clothing. She paused to gaze at the mismatched stockings on her feet. Then, wearing a puzzled expression, she continued her aimless roaming. She opened the dresser drawers and peered inside the armoire. Betty scratched her head before finally turning to the hazy figure that sat silently on her bed.
“I just can’t seem to remember…Where are my shoes?” she asked in a bewildered voice.
The figure raised a misty, glowing finger and pointed to the closet.
“Oh, that’s right… thank you, Ernest.” she said. As she reached for the closet door, Betty gave the ghost of her late husband a loving smile.
Chapter 2
Henry arranged the newspapers in his tattered satchel and lifted it onto his shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, the young boy saw a white-haired woman, walking unsteadily toward the senior center steps. She held a cane in one hand, and a large bag in the other.
Henry put his satchel down and hurried to the woman before she reached the stairs.
“Here Mrs. Michaud, let me help you with that,” Henry said, taking the bag and offering his arm.
Mrs. Michaud smiled gratefully and took Henry’s elbow.
“How are you, Henry?” she asked as they climbed the stairs.
“Well, I passed my spelling test,” he replied. “Thanks to you, I just might pass fifth grade.”
“That’s nice, Henry… but I didn’t ask about school. After what’s happened, I’m more worried about you.”
They reached the top of the stairs, and the old lady looked at the boy intently. Henry suddenly found it hard to swallow.
“I’m OK… I guess.” Henry replied with a shrug.
As Henry held the door for the elderly woman, he noticed some kids from his school waiting on the sidewalk. The three boys sat on their bikes, watching him. Henry knew that hanging around with the old people wasn’t exactly a cool thing to do. He resisted a sudden urge to let go of the door and pretend he didn’t know Mrs. Michaud.
Instead, Henry waited, and once the old lady was safely inside, he handed her the bag. After all, Mrs. Michaud was always nice to him, while those boys never were.
Still, Henry cringed inwardly when Mrs. Michaud thanked him warmly and patted his shoulder; he could almost feel the boys watching him.
“Well Henry, I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk about...anything,” she said.
“OK, thank you, Mrs. Michaud,” Henry replied. He took a deep breath and began walking down the steps. He felt his face flush as he approached the boys.
“Hey Henry, is that your girlfriend?” the bigger boy asked in a mocking voice.
“Shut up, Danny,” Henry retorted.
The two smaller boys snickered.
“Girlfriend… heh-heh,” Alex echoed.
Meanwhile, Jason jammed his index finger deep inside his nose.
Henry slung his satchel over his shoulder and began walking.
Danny and his friends began following Henry, much to his dismay.
“Hey Henry, didn’t you hear? The homeless guy on the corner says he wants his shoes back!” Danny jeered.
“Homeless guy… ha!” Alex repeated.
Henry kept going, but looked down at his worn, off-brand sneakers with embarrassment.
Jason picked his other nostril.
“And I wouldn’t be caught dead in that jacket you’re wearing,” Danny continued, “like… did you fish that out of a dumpster or something?”
“A dumpster …ha-ha!” Alex parroted.
Danny looked at the smaller boy in annoyance. “Stop copying me, Alex! You’re such a dork!” Danny shoved Alex, who crashed to the sidewalk, tangled in his bike.
Danny cackled and pointed at Alex, who groaned in pain.
Henry sighed and kept walking. He wished Danny and his friends would go away. He wished they would leave him alone at school.
But most of all, Henry wished Ernest was still alive.
Chapter 3
An elderly couple stopped outside a diner. They stood near a rusty walker, which was gripped on either side by a pair of tiny, knurled hands. An enormous, lumpy leather handbag perched atop the walker.
“What do we have here?” a frail voice asked.
A wrinkled face framed with silver hair suddenly appeared; peeking out from behind the huge bag. The woman leaned sideways to peer down at a wooden object resting on the sidewalk.
The sides of the giant handbag rippled and a muffled bark sounded just before a tiny white dog leaped from the mouth of the bag. The little dog retrieved the object and sprang back onto the walker, where he presented the object to the little old lady.
“Good boy, Teeny,” Phyllis said, taking the object and giving the dog a pat. Teeny sat down on the huge purse to watch Phyllis examine the strange item. It was rectangular, with a series of hinges on both ends. With stiff fingers, Phyllis unfolded it to reveal a full-size yardstick. She turned to her elderly companions.
“Betty, Sal look!” she said excitedly. “It’s a folding yardstick! They just don’t make them like this anymore. I’m glad I found it… you never know when a yardstick might come in handy.”
Sal smiled indulgently and Betty wore a vacant stare while Phyllis carefully re-folded the yardstick and handed it back to Teeny. The tiny dog grasped the ruler in his mouth and disappeared into the big bag.
Then Sal held the door while his friends entered the diner. Weighed down by the huge bag, Phyllis struggled to roll her walker over the threshold. Betty followed, and then stopped and looked around the restaurant with a lost expression on her wrinkled face. Betty’s coat was buttoned crookedly, and she had a glove on one hand and a mitten on the other.
“Where did Ernest go?” she asked.
“Oh, don’t wor
ry Betty… he’ll be along,” Phyllis said, giving Sal a sideways glance. Sal and Phyllis had learned it was pointless to remind Betty that Ernest was dead, since she’d just forget again, anyway.
Sal leaned heavily on his cane as they made their way to their favorite booth. Once there, Sal helped Phyllis with her bag, grunting as he lifted the huge purse onto the seat beside her.
Betty insisted that she save the spot next to her for Ernest, so Sal sat alongside Phyllis, her giant bag between them. When Betty took off her coat, Phyllis saw that her shirt was inside out.
“Your top is on wrong, Betty. Why don’t you go to the restroom and fix it?” Phyllis suggested.
Betty looked down at herself in surprise. “Now, how did that happen?” she mumbled as she left the table.
When Betty reached the restrooms, she studied the doors for a long moment before finally entering the men’s bathroom. A moment later, Betty reemerged, holding the arm of a man wearing a rather embarrassed expression. He led Betty to the ladies’ bathroom and opened the door for her.
Meanwhile, back at the table, Phyllis dug around in her giant handbag. Teeny popped his head out of the big bag, and began licking Phyllis’s hands.
“Not now, Teeny, I’m trying to find my glasses.” Phyllis said, peering inside the giant purse.
Teeny cocked his head, and dove back into the enormous bag. The sides of the bag swelled, and a moment later Teeny reemerged with an eyeglass case in his mouth.
“Thank you, Teeny,” Phyllis said. She donned her glasses and began reading the menu; stroking her faithful dog with one hand.
Betty returned to the table and sat down. Looking up from her menu, Phyllis smiled at her friend and pretended that she didn’t notice her shirt. Although she had turned it right side out, Phyllis didn’t have the heart to tell Betty that her top was now on backwards.
After the waitress brought their food, Phyllis divided hers into two portions, saving half for dinner. During the meal, Phyllis and Sal reached for the salt at the same time, and Sal accidently found himself holding Phyllis’s hand. He blushed, and muttered a flustered apology.
Hiding a smile with her napkin, Betty leaned over to whisper to the vacant seat next to her. “Yes… it’s just adorable,” Betty said, giving the empty space a wink.
Phyllis and Sal exchanged a worried glance when they noticed Betty talking to the chair.
Betty’s smile faded, and was replaced by a look of concern. A dark feeling had abruptly come over her; she felt as though she were being watched. She clutched her napkin and scanned the restaurant, searching for the source of the strange sensation.
After a moment, Betty spotted a man staring at her from across the diner. When their eyes met, a wicked smile came over the man’s face… displaying the toothpick he held between his teeth.
Their eyes locked, and Betty gasped as she realized it was the man from her dream.
Chapter 4
“Betty…”
“Betty…”
Phyllis waved her hand in front of Betty’s face.
Betty tore her eyes from the man to look at Phyllis.
“There you are!” Phyllis said when Betty’s eyes finally focused on her. “It’s time for your medication.”
Betty looked for the man again, but he had disappeared. She wondered if she had just imagined him. “You saw him too, didn’t you Ernest?” she whispered to the empty seat next to her.
Phyllis didn’t notice Betty’s distress; she was rummaging around in her big bag, searching for Betty’s prescription. Teeny began diving in and out of the enormous bag, each time presenting Phyllis with a different random item.
“No, that’s not it either,” Phyllis repeated as Teeny offered her a sock, a tube of toothpaste, a potholder, the folding ruler, and finally, Betty’s bottle of pills.
“Good boy, Teeny,” Phyllis said, taking the pills from the tiny dog.
Phyllis struggled to remove the lid from the container of pills with her stiff, swollen hands. “Darn these childproof containers!” she cried out in frustration. “They should call them ‘Senior Proof’!”
Sal took the bottle, opened it, and gave two pills to Betty.
Lately, Betty had been forgetting to take her medicine, or worse, she’d forget that she’d already taken it and she’d take it again. Phyllis had begun keeping Betty’s pills for her, fearing she might overdose if left to administer the medicine herself.
As Betty took her pills, the pungent smell of perfume filled the air. Teeny whined, put his paws over his nose, and hid inside Phyllis’ handbag.
Sal and Phyllis sighed when they saw three elderly women approaching the table.
“Well, if it isn’t Sal and his two little friends!” the woman in front exclaimed. She kissed Sal on the cheek, leaving a red smear of lipstick. “We were just talking about you! Where have you been? We haven’t seen you around the senior center lately.”
“Hello Agnes,” Sal said, wiping the lipstick from his cheek.
“You remember my friends, Mildred and Pricilla.” Agnes gestured to the two women behind her.
Sal and Phyllis nodded; they knew Agnes and her friends from the senior center pool, where they attended water fitness classes.
Agnes turned to Betty. “Hey Betty… I heard your husband died,” Agnes said, leaning toward her. “Take some advice from me, since I’ve been through four husbands so far. Losing the first one is the hardest, but don’t worry, you’ll find another husband… or at least, I always do.”
Agnes gave Sal a meaningful look as she said this, and Phyllis muffled a snort.
“And just think, Betty… you might even land yourself a rich one next time,” Agnes added.
Betty gazed dreamily at the empty seat next to her. “I don’t need a new husband,” she said with a smile. “I like the old one just fine.” As she spoke, Betty’s hand curled in her lap, as if it held another hand that no one else could see.
Agnes raised her penciled-on eyebrows before turning to Phyllis. “It’s so nice to see you, Florence. I simply must comment on that top you’re wearing… that blouse sure does attract attention.” she said with a sly smile.
“Why, thank you Agnes,” Phyllis replied, surprised by the unexpected compliment.
“Well… I didn’t say the attention would be good, Florence,” Agnes continued maliciously. “It’s just hard not to notice how ugly it is.”
Priscilla snickered snobbishly. Phyllis’ face turned red and Teeny growled from inside the giant handbag.
“It’s Phyllis,” Sal corrected in a cold voice.
“What?” Agnes replied.
“You called her Florence. Her name is Phyllis, not Florence,” repeated Sal.
“Oh, Florence, Phyllis… it’s close enough.” Agnes shrugged as though she couldn’t be bothered with something as unimportant as Phyllis’ name.
Behind her, Mildred rolled her eyes and adjusted her hearing aid, as if the very thought of Phyllis’s name bored her.
“So…anyway, Sal,” Agnes continued, “I wanted to invite you to a private jewelry show tomorrow night. Sterling Von Gemstone is putting his new jewelry line up for auction. All the best people will be there. It’s going to be just fabulous.”
Agnes pouted with mock regret. “I wish I could invite all of you, but this is an exclusive event.” Agnes looked down her nose at Phyllis. “They have standards,” she added in a superior tone.
Mildred and Priscilla nodded, as if agreeing that you obviously couldn’t invite just anybody to an exclusive event such as this.
“So, can you come? If you’re good, I might let you buy me some jewelry.” Agnes batted her eyelashes and nudged Sal with her elbow.
Sal cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable. “I…I don’t know Agnes,” he stammered. “I was hoping to just relax tomorrow and…”
“Oh goody… you’re free!” Agnes cut in. “Here’s your invitation. See you there!” Agnes shoved a piece of paper into Sal’s hand, and before Sa
l could protest, Agnes waved, and the three old snobs paraded out of the diner without a backward glance.
Chapter 5
Dumbstruck, Sal stared at the invitation that Agnes had tricked him into taking. A photo of a handsome man stared back, his hands full of glittering jewels.
“Good luck getting out of that one,” Phyllis said with a wry smile.
“I don’t know what just happened,” Sal said in a bewildered voice. “I was trying to turn her down politely, but she didn’t give me the chance.”
Sal leaned closer to Phyllis. “By the way,” he whispered, “I happen to like that top on you.”
“Why, thank you Sal.” Phyllis beamed.
“You’re welcome…Florence,” Sal grinned impishly.
Phyllis laughed and punched his arm playfully.
Sal held his arm and cried, “Help, Betty! Florence is beating me up!”
Betty, who was having a rare moment of mental clarity, replied, “You’re just lucky Florence doesn’t hit you with her purse.”
That made them laugh even harder. The massive size of Phyllis’ purse had been a running joke for years. Phyllis could barely lift her purse. The thought of her using the colossal bag as a weapon was comical.
It’s good to laugh again, Sal thought.
It used to be Ernest who made them laugh. In the weeks since his death, the normally chipper group had become somber. They missed Ernest so much. He was such a cheerful, friendly man; one could even call him jolly. As a matter of fact, each Christmas, Ernest would don a Santa suit and volunteer at the local bank. He would sit in the lobby, giving candy canes to the children. With his big belly and white whiskers, Ernest made the perfect Santa. Betty had made Ernest’s bright red Santa suit herself, and the bank manager allowed Ernest to change in the bank’s security room, so the kids wouldn’t find out he wasn’t the real Santa.
Teeny suddenly climbed out of Phyllis’ handbag, whining excitedly. A boy with a worn satchel over his shoulder was approaching. His hair hung in his eyes and his toe peeked out from a hole in his sneaker.
Sal smiled. “Hey, Henry… what brings you here?”
“I saw you through the window,” Henry answered. “I thought you might want your newspaper now.” The boy drew a rolled up copy of ‘The Specter County Spectator’ from his satchel and offered it to the old man. “If not, I’ll just leave it on your step like I usually do.”