Danny stepped up to Fitzpatrick. “You want me to help you? I’m real good at helping.” Maggie rested her hand on her son’s arm. “Danny, I think Mr. Fitzpa
trick has enough to deal with.”
I wondered what Mr. Fitzpatrick thought about having a mentally disabled person wanting to spend time with him. After all these years growing up with Danny, I knew some people were just fine around him. They didn’t seem to care what his IQ score was, and they embraced him for what he was – another human being. Other people became distant from Danny, almost making him feel as if he had done something wrong. He didn’t understand that his differences made them uncomfortable. Barry had been in the second group from the very beginning, even to the point of changing places at a holiday table. He told me that he wanted Danny to be close to his mother so that she could “take care of him.” When it came to eating turkey dinners, Danny needed no assistance. It was a lame excuse, and I knew it, but the look on his face, the rigidness of his body, even his tone of voice was painful to watch. Everybody in his world had to be his own idea of what was normal. Even now I wanted to shake him by the shoulders and tell him his “normal” doesn’t exist. The world had two groups. Leo Fitzpatrick was abou
t to prove which one he was in.
“I would love to have the help, Danny,” he said with a smile. Danny jumped up and clapped, and the two men headed off towards the woods followed by Ty
ler and Zach, newfound friends.
“Oooh, I like that fellow, Betsy,” Aunt Maggie whispered. Somehow, after all that happened between us, I liked him, too.
The sun finally set, and we worked by the many flashlights we carried around. It was pretty exciting to be actually filming a television program. The ladies from the Best Little Hair House all piled out of Ruby Green’s double-cab pickup. Ruby and Anna had their hair freshly sprayed around their paranormal investigator hats. Ruby Green even had her black hair swirled up in the back with a little purple veil decorated with tiny bats. It gave the impression that there were bats flying around her head. I wasn’t sure if we were here to find ghosts or aliens, as they resembled a new race of large-headed people invading our planet. Lillian MacPhee had chosen not to embrace the outrageous hairstyle but still sported her paranormal investigator cap on her silver hair. The ladies all set up portable lawn chairs on the edge of the field, and Ruby brought out her cooler stocked with Lone Star beer and margaritas. Maggie promised Howard the celeb
ration would stay at a whisper.
“This is a paranormal investigation, not ladies’ night
at the bowling alley, Maggie.”
“I know,” Maggie answered, seeing the cameraman dip in the cooler for a beer. She turned
to me, blocking Howard’s view.
“Betsy,” Maggie said, now holding Howard’s clipboard. “Are you all set to go down the dead tunnel wi
th me in about an hour’s time?”
“Oh Aunt Maggie, maybe Miss Lillian or Miss Ruby would like to go instead.” The ladies perked up at that, and Ruby even stood up and adjusted her bat veil, ready for duty. That was fine by me. My mind flashed on how dark it had bee
n in the tunnel in the daytime.
“Did they clear the bats out?”
“They didn’t have to. There’s a hole in the roof they’re flyin’ in and out of. Remember, bats are nocturnal, so they’re all out huntin’ right now. They we
re pretty harmless, after all.”
I remembered pulling one out of my hair, thinking of a scene from the Alfr
ed Hitchcock movie “The Birds.”
“Harmless, huh?”
“Sure, you can do it.”
Lillian MacPhee giggled. “Oh, this is so exciting! I don’t admit this to a lot of people, but I’ve watched all the ghost hunting shows they’ve been showing on TV this week in celebration of Halloween. It really is fascinating.” Seeing her here with Ruby and Anna, Lillian looked much more comfortable than she h
ad been at the council meeting.
Ruby chortled, “Me too!”
Anna hooted, “Me three!”
“Well then I guess that makes you three ladies official members of our li
ttle society,” Maggie said.
“Aunt Maggie, as one of the founding members, what do you say we s
end the newbies down the tunnel?
It could be
an initiation into the group.”
Maggie sighed. “You’ll be fine, Betsy. I’m goin’ down that tunnel, and the only pers
on I want with me is you.”
I was touched by her preference for
me but still didn’t want to go.
Howard was now standing in the main entrance, motioning to me. The cameras were pointing at him, and I was pretty sure they were turned on. Why would he want to talk to me with the cameras on? I don’t think I remember Aunt Maggie
telling me anything about this.
“Go over
there, darlin,’” Maggie nudged.
“Me? Why?” I asked, straightening my hair and wondering if I had pulled all the cobwebs out after chasing my intruder down the dust
y hallways of the old hospital.
“I don’t know what Howard wants, but he needs you on camera, so go, my dear.” I trudged over, fe
eling like an awkward teenager.
“And this evening, we have our resident author and newspaper columnist, ‘The Happy Hinter’ herself, Betsy Livingston, jo
ining us in the investigation.”
I feebly smiled and raised my hand to wave at the camera. Somehow I had achiev
ed “resident celebrity” status.
“What piqued your interest in the paranormal, Betsy?” Howard asked
as he handed me the microphone.
“Um, what piqued my interest?” I certainly couldn’t tell the truth, that I actually don’t have an interest in the paranormal and wasn’t even sure if I believed all this hooey. “Well … I
… guess it runs in the family.”
“And that’s just wonderful! Betsy is referring to Maggie Schaeffer, one of our esteemed investigators and her aunt.” Howard then nodded toward the building, his grin ever present. “Why don’t you go on into the hospital, Betsy, and we’ll catch up with you inside.” He smiled as his hair picked up a little in the wind. I looked up and saw clouds gathering, covering the moon above us. What else on Halloween? I felt my face muscles start to ache as I forced out one more amicab
le countenance and waved again.
“Okay Howard, can’t wait to see you in there.” Boy, did I mean that. I walked into the now-darkened hospital and immediately over to a small lantern someone had thoughtfully placed inside the door. Once out of the range of the camera, I peered back out through the window. I could see Maggie now being introduced, as she gestured back towards me. The light illuminated the doorways, making them look totally different than how they had appeared earlier in the day. I could see the main area and then the six hallways breaking off from them. They had been labeled “A” through “G,” and I mentally found Hallway C, which led to the creepy, bat-infested dead tunnel, which led to the morgue. Why couldn’t I get the “outside walking” investigation, or better yet, why couldn’t I just wait in the van, watching the television transmissions for specters? I heard a chair scrape up on the second floor. I was pretty sure it was George upstairs guarding the crim
e scene. I heard a faint cough.
“George, are you up there?” I shouted up th
e stairway to my left.
No answ
er. “George, are you up there?”
He probably couldn’t hear me if
he was sitting inside the room.
Maggie showed up at the door. “Ooh-wee, Betsy. This is fun. Once we get all the folks in here we’ll sneak back out until it’s o
ur time to investigate.”
I looked out to see Howard speaking to the ladies of the Hair House. It was gracious of them to put down their alcoholic beverages before going on camera. Howard looked as if he was launching into one of his lectures on the history of the hospital. I turned around to see my Aunt Maggie with her head turned upward, scanning the
open area of the ground floor.
“There is something here, Betsy. I can feel i
t. Do you feel the vibrations?”
I loved my aunt, even in moments like this. Some people see an old dilapidated building, but Maggie saw the history, the toil and the people. She had an open mind and an open heart, and s
he wasn’t afraid to take risks.
At the sound of footsteps, I turned around expecting to see the ladies coming through the door, but instead, Danny nearly knocked me
over. He was breathing heavily.
“Betsy, Mama … Mr. Leo sent me over here. He wants to know if you’ve seen Tyler or Zach.” He put his hands on
his knees, gasping for breath.
“No,” I answered. “I thought th
ey were over there with you.”
He looked towards his feet, still trying to regulate his breat
hing. “I wasn’t a good helper.”
Maggie put her arm around her son.
“Sure you were. What happened?”
“Mr. Leo told me to go get them – Zach and that Tyler boy – to help pull logs around for seats at the roaring fire. I went to their tent, but th
ey weren’t there. I lost them.”
“Are you sure? Maybe they were in another tent with some of the other Scouts? Maybe they went out in the wood
s to use the restroom?” I said.
“No, I looked in all the tents, and Zach and that Tyler boy weren’t there. They weren’t an
ywhere, and it’s all my fault.”
“Well, that wasn’t your fault.”
“I lost Zach.” His eyes, illuminated by the shadows of the lantern, seemed to be framed by the jutting of his cheekbones. He ran his hands through his straight, thin hair and started repeating,
“It’s my fault. It’s my fault.”
“Do you want to be a good helper now?” Maggie cut in. “Go look and see if Uncle Judd’s police car is out there and tell him Zach and Tyler are lost and that we need to all search for them. Tell Mr. Leo we will start looking
for the boys over here. Okay?”
“Okay.” he answered.
“
Repeat it for me,” said Maggie.
“Go find Uncle Judd. Go tell Mr. Leo,” He echoed the phrase as he ran out the door, nearly knocking over Ruby and company as they entered, tittering a
bout their onscreen interviews.
“Sorry, Miss Ruby,” he shouted as he ran dow
n the stairway to the outdoors.
“Ladies, we have two boys missing,” Aunt Maggie said in her no-nonsense voice. The ladies gasped. Aunt Maggie started informing her posse as
to details and search patterns.
“Where would they have
gone to, Betsy?” Maggie asked.
I kicked at a stray piece of paper as I opened my cell phone to call my dad. “I don’t know. I don’t know
whether to be mad or worried.”
“First find
them and then decide, darlin’.”
I agreed and then listened t
o my dad’s voice mail click on.
Within a few minutes, Leo Fitzpatrick showed up, looking as if he had run the entire way. I had noticed there was now a slight breeze, and I could hear some rumbling in the distance. I glanced out the window. A patch of clouds drifted across a full moon. I could smell the moisture in the air of what might turn into a cooling rain. Maggie had deputized the Hair House ladies and assigned them each a hallway on the main floor, taking one herself. They walked through the hospital, bouffant hair bobbin
g, calling out the boys’ names.
“I left Danny in charge with all the Scouts sitting around the fire. Benny’s sons were helping out, too. They were going to sing camp songs to kee
p them busy,” said Fitzpatrick.
“Good,” my father said as he stepped through the doorway. “I
hope they know a lot of them.”
I felt relief flooding through me. He had gotten my voice mail. He took off his
Stetson and ambled over to me.
Leo continued, “ Betsy, do you think the b
oys might have come over here?”
“I don’t know what for.” I felt my insides freezing up. Would I lose Zach as well as Barry? Here one day, gone the next? Had the fates actually planned a giant zinger my way once more? The panic set in, and I could barely hear for th
e blood rushing inside my head.
Fitzpatrick shrugged. “The boys seemed to be getting along really well. I think they were talking about Tyler’s mom and Zach’s dad. Tyler even apologized about saying your husband was
the dead body you found here.”
Tyler was right. Canfield did link back to my missing husband. Finding him brought so many memories of Barry back. A thought thundered into my mind. My dad put his Stetson back on, and it seemed he had the same thought. I grabbed the lantern, and we both ran for the stairs. As the rest of the remaining group all clambered behind us, I saw a giant man standing at the top of the stairs holding a tiny deputy and a slightly
chubby pirate by the collar.
“Hey there, Judd, look who I found wanderin’ around our crime scene,” George Beckman’s high voice echoed across the empty lobby. Both boys wriggled out from his
grasp and ran down the stairs.
“What in the hell were you two doing up there?” My father stood with
both his hands on his gun belt.
“We were investigatin
g,” Zach said matter-of-factly.
“I think we are knee-deep in so-call
ed investigators tonight, boy.”
Tyler, who had been unusually subdued, spoke quietly to my dad. “We were looking for Zach’s
dad.”
We could still hear the Hair House ladies calling up and down the hallways. “Miss Ruby, Miss Lillian, Miss Anna, Miss Maggie, we found ‘em,” George yelled out, his voice
echoing through the corridors.
I went over to Zach and knelt down to come face-to-face with him. Fitzpatrick remained standing, his arms
crossed and his attitude stern.
“Why were you looking for Barry up there?” I asked, although I was already starting
to understand my son’s motives.
“Because … well … Tyler and I were talking about it and … and … well … maybe Dad was there. Maybe he and Mr. Canfield were still
partners and working together.”
I took his small hands in my own. “Listen to me. Your dad was not up there. We do not know where your dad is. We don’t know if he was the victim of a crime of any type, but we’re pretty sure he wasn’t. We believe that he … just left.” Zach looked down, trying shut out my last statement.
“He just left,” I repeated. “He left the best little boy God ever made, and for that he has lost an incredible treasure – you. I’m sorry he’s not here with you tonight or tomorrow and a thousand tomorrows, but I am here, and I always will be.” Zach’s little arms encircled my neck, cast and all, in the kind of neck-breaking hug only a
kid can give.