Terrence Montague mumbled something I couldn't quite understand, but I could have sworn it sounded like, "Yeah, whatever."
"Daddy," Rosalyn twittered. "Daddy?"
"Mr. Elway." That was Penny, her voice soft. "Theodore."
"Hey, Granddad. S'up?" Billy's voice rang above everyone else's.
Fabrizio cleared his throat. "I feel the vibrations. Theodore? Theodore? Our beloved Theodore, we bring you gifts from life into death. Commune with us, Theodore, and move among us. Give us a sign."
The room grew cold as a stiff breeze circled the room, extinguishing the candles. The lights went out. I couldn't have seen my hand in front of my face. A collective gasp circled the table.
The bell tinkled, fell over, and rolled across the table.
It was Fabrizio speaking, but it wasn't his voice or accent. "Dammit all, Cecile, you forgot the hot sauce."
Cecile cried out. "Oh. Oh. Theo? Theo, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Simple questions, Mrs. Elway," Fabrizio said, his normal pitch and British accent back. "Only yes or no questions."
"Daddy! Daddy!" It was Rosalyn's voice. "Daddy, tell us. How did you really die? Did someone murder you?"
A soft moaning came from somewhere above us. The table began to vibrate then to shake. And then the crazy thing lifted off the floor.
"Whoa, dude." Billy seemed to be enjoying the show.
If I hadn't known better myself, I'd have believed old Theodore had joined us. The table crashed back down. And suddenly I wasn't holding anyone's hand anymore. There were soft whimpers, the scraping sound of chairs scooting back, and feet shuffling.
It was scary. Damn, Fabrizio. Good job.
The only sound in the room was the low hum of Fabrizio's voice as he continued with the farce, staying fully "connected" to the spirit world. After a few minutes, the lights came back on for no apparent reason I could see.
Everyone had stood and moved away from the table except Fabrizio, who was still in his chair, eyes closed. The rest of us all looked around the room at each other, relieved to have made it all the way back from the world beyond.
Or maybe we all hadn't made it after all.
Cecile Elway was still in her chair, slumped over, her face buried in the platter of clams. A few empty clamshells were strewn around in front of her.
Montague lifted her wrist and let it drop back. "My word," he said. "I believe she's…but she can't be. Can she?" He looked around at all of us. "Dead? She can't be dead."
But she was.
"Hmm," Billy said. "Bad clams?"
MYSTIC MAYHEM
available now!
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
FREE BOOK OFFER
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
BOOKS BY PHYLLIS A. HUMPHREY
SNEAK PEEK