Classified (The Godmothers) Part 10

She whirled around. "Oh, Phil, I'm sorry. I am just so shocked to see this young man."

Phil shot a look Daniel's way. "And you're going to introduce me when?" he asked in a tone that let her know he was not happy with the turn of events.

Flabbergasted and a little embarra.s.sed, Toots shook her head. "Phil, I'm sorry. I'm still floored. Daniel, meet Dr. Phil Becker."

The two men shook hands and gave one another the typical male proverbial nod of acknowledgment, each unsure of where he stood.

"Daniel, Dr. Becker . . . Phil," she said, letting him know this was not her doctor. "Phil saved your mother's life last year."

If there had ever been a stunned moment in Phil's relations.h.i.+p with Toots, it was then. Relief flooded over him like a ravaging waterfall. He'd thought this handsome, much younger man might've been more than a friend to Toots. And he'd been right, just not the kind of friend he thought. He felt as giddy as a kid going to the prom. He shook Daniel's hand so long that Toots had to pry him away.

"It's good to meet you finally," Daniel said. "Mom told me all about you in her letters, and, of course, she can't sing enough praises, since she believes you brought her back from the dead. I just want to thank you both." Daniel stepped back, tears s.h.i.+mmering in his dark blue eyes. "I haven't been the best son. I had to come home to see Mom." He raked a hand through his glossy hair. "Is she here?"

Toots was in a semi state of shock over the change in Daniel. She was finding it difficult to carry on a normal conversation.

"Your mother is next door with her new friend, Robert," Phil informed him.

Perplexed, but in a good way, Daniel asked, "Mom has a male friend?"

Toots was surprised that Bernice hadn't mentioned Robert in her letters, but she must have had her reasons. Should Phil have kept this quiet? It didn't matter. Daniel was here, and he would meet Robert soon enough.

"Your mother has so many friends-some you know, some you don't. It will take weeks for her to introduce you." That was stretching the truth a bit, but Toots still felt very protective of Bernice. They were as close as sisters, and that would never change. Daniel hadn't been a perfect son, she knew, but he was here now. That had to count for something. Now the question was: Would Bernice have a heart attack when she saw the new and improved version of her long-lost son?

"Then let's get started. I drove all the way from Seattle. I'm ready to call it a day," Daniel said. Toots sneaked a peek at the license plate. Sure enough. Was.h.i.+ngton State. Bernice never told her she knew where Daniel was, but Toots figured she must have had her reasons. Bernice didn't have to reveal every secret to her.

"Oh, d.a.m.n me and my lack of manners. I imagine you're tired and hungry. I can help with the tired part, but the hungry . . . Well, if you remember, I'm not much of a cook. Phil and I have dinner reservations. I suppose we can add one more person?" She directed her question to Phil. While thrilled that Daniel had come to visit his mother after all these years, Toots didn't see this as a reason to postpone her evening.

"No, no, you all go ahead. I just want to see Mom, catch up, and maybe have a shower. I drove with the top down most of the way. I'd forgotten how hot it is in the South," Daniel replied.

Toots wanted to remind him that summer was just around the corner, but she didn't. If he stuck around long enough, he would soon find out. "Phil, would you come in and fix Daniel an ice tea while I call Bernice?" Toots asked, turning to go inside, expecting the men to follow. She wasn't sure if Bernice and Robert were bouncing away on his new mattress. No way was she going to say this to Daniel, so a phone call was best under the circ.u.mstances.

"I'll just grab my bags," Daniel said. He took the smallest piece of luggage, and Phil carried the larger one inside. The two men set them next to the staircase.

"I'll get that tea," Phil called to Toots as she raced upstairs.

"Wonderful! I'll be right back," she replied when she reached the top of the stairs. Once inside her room, she used the house phone to call over to Robert's. She hoped Bernice wasn't taking her advice just now, because it wouldn't be the greatest time to get frisky with her pal.

Three rings. Four. Five.

They're probably going at it hot and heavy, she thought. Eight rings. She was about to hang up, when a breathless Robert answered the phone.

"Good, you're there." Toots voiced her thoughts before filtering them.

"Toots? That you? Why are you calling? Is everything swell over there? You need to speak up. I can't hear you." Robert chattered on like a Chatty Cathy doll.

Poor Robert, he needed a hearing aid and was too vain to admit it. Toots cupped her hand over the phone, speaking louder than normal. "I need to talk to Bernice. It's important."

"Come on over. We've just finished making the bed with those new sheets. They are so soft. Bernice wants a pink set. I'm going to give them to her for Christmas this year. Do you think that's a good idea?"

Toots hung up the phone. At this rate, she could slip out the side entrance and tell Bernice in person. Quickly, before Robert realized she'd hung up on him, she raced downstairs and out the side door that led to the potting shed, which Pete, her gardener, used to work in before he retired.

With her heels sinking into the gra.s.s and slowing her down, Toots removed them; then she ran the rest of the way. She banged on the front door. "Bernice! It's an emergency ! Open this d.a.m.n door, or I'm going to kick it in!" she shouted as she continued to pound on the door. h.e.l.l, they were both losing their hearing. "Bernice! Get your a.s.s out here now!"

The door swung open. Flushed, Bernice looked like she'd been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Toots was sure the cookie jar was Robert's new mattress, with the new sheets. "Thank G.o.d!" Toots said.

"What in the h.e.l.l are you in such a tizzy for? Robert said you hung up on him. That's rude, Toots. Even for you. I thought you had manners, but, apparently, I was wrong. Now, what's so important that you have to come over here and interrupt us?"

Toots raised a brow. "So you are s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Robert! I knew it!"

Bernice took a deep breath; then she rolled her eyes. "You nasty old woman. I am not s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g Robert. Now. We're trying a new recipe. He just bought that new conduction stove, and we're trying it out."

Toots didn't care if they were doing "it" on top of the new conduction oven. "Bernice, I want you to listen to what I'm about to tell you, and I do not want you to interrupt me. Do you understand? This is important."

Bernice crossed her arms. "Go on."

"Do you feel okay? You haven't had any chest pain lately or anything I should know about?"

"No, Toots, I haven't. If I had, I'm sure Dr. Becker would've told you already." Before having her surgery last year, Bernice had given Toots power of attorney, and Toots was privy to her medical history. It still p.i.s.sed Bernice off to no end.

"He hasn't. Now listen up. I don't have a lot of time. Phil and I have dinner reservations at eight o'clock."

Tapping her foot, Bernice said, "I'm waiting."

s.h.i.+t, Toots hated this, but once Bernice was over the initial shock, Toots knew she would be the happiest woman in the world. She just didn't want the news to send her friend's fragile heart into another attack. Taking a calming breath, Toots burst out, "Daniel is at the house." There, she'd said it!

Bernice continued to tap her foot. She pursed her lips, making her resemble one of those wrinkled-up potato-faced caricatures she'd seen at the Cracker Barrel.

"Did you hear what I just said?" Toots demanded loudly, no longer caring who overheard.

"Yes, I did."

"Well?" Toots leaned as close to Bernice as she could without touching her.

"You're a mean woman, Toots."

"Son of a b.i.t.c.h, Bernice! Your f.u.c.king son is sitting at my kitchen table, sipping a gla.s.s of sweet tea, as we speak, and you're calling me mean?"

Right before her very eyes, Bernice turned fifty shades of red, then settled on white. "What did you just say?" she muttered, her words barely audible.

"You heard what I said," Toots repeated.

"You're really serious, aren't you?"

"If I weren't serious, do you think for one minute I would trudge across the lawn wearing these?" She held her green heels up in the air.

Bernice dropped her hands to her side; then she brought them up to cover her mouth. "Oh, my G.o.d. For once, you're not pulling my leg! Woo-hoo!" Bernice shouted, and pounced off the porch like a gymnast bolting off a balance beam.

Toots cackled and took off across the lawn after her.

Chapter 17.

Goebel and Sophie parked her newly purchased SUV next to a gray Volvo. "This place feels creepy," Sophie said.

Goebel hit the key fob unlocking the hatchback. They'd purchased new equipment as soon as they had received the final certificate of occupancy for their new office s.p.a.ce for Psychic Investigations. They discussed their plans in private before revealing them to Toots and the gang. Once they were out in the open, it had only been a matter of weeks before they'd located an office and set up shop. Though business wasn't booming, Sophie didn't care. For the past five years, since Walter's death, she'd been having the time of her life. Thanks to the $5 million in life insurance she had received upon his death-the payoff on a policy that she'd worked her a.s.s off to pay for-she didn't have to worry about finances. She'd invested some of her newly acquired funds; and despite the initial decline in the stock market, she had almost doubled the value of what she had been paid by the life insurance company.

Goebel, being the man of honor that he was, the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with-come h.e.l.l or high water, marriage or not-had insisted on footing all the expenses when they decided to go into business together. Sophie purchased the SUV with her money because she didn't want to continue borrowing Toots's vehicles. She'd had magnetic signs made up last week with her and Goebel's pictures, and their business name spelled out in a freaky bloodred scrawl: PSYCHIC INVESTIGATIONS.

Goebel removed three large cables of electrical cords from the backseat. He really didn't think Sophie needed any of the equipment, but it looked good for the clients. A square black case that held most of Sophie's electronic gadgets was a must, she'd said. There were meters that measured electromagnetic fields, infrared video cameras, and the ghost box, which she still used, saying that it picked up voices from beyond. Another bag contained holy water, several branches of dried sage, and three cigarette lighters.

Between the two of them, they were able to carry all the equipment to the clients' front door.

"You ready for this?" Goebel asked before ringing the doorbell.

"Always," Sophie replied; then she stretched on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Hey, none of that, or we won't make it past the front door," Goebel said; then he kissed the top of her head. "Now let's get this show on the road."

After the young couple called, Goebel did a bit of investigating on the history of the old place. The mansion located on Legare Street had originally been built in the early eighteenth century. Once a boarding school for daughters of wealthy South Carolina cotton and rice planters, admittance to the elite school meant that one had attained the highest social standing. The school was run by a Frenchwoman, Madame Veronique Louise Barteau. She was known for her firm discipline and strict guidance. Most of all, the girls left Madame Barteau's School for Young Ladies prepared for their social roles as members of high society. All married within months of leaving the school.

One of the girls, however, Elise Montague, had failed to follow the rules laid down by Madame Barteau. She would often slip away at night to meet her lover, a man of low social standing, who, it was said, worked for a wealthy rice planter. While still in school, the girl became pregnant and gave birth to a son, who died a few days after his birth. It was rumored that her secret lover wanted nothing to do with her after she became pregnant and she suffocated her son, hoping that she would be reunited with her lover. It didn't happen, and the girl threw herself from the veranda, broke her neck, and was found by her lover the next morning. He was hanged, since it was believed that he was responsible for her death.

After this tragedy, the wealthy plantation owners refused to send their daughters to Madame Barteau's School for Young Ladies. The school was forced to close; and many years later, a newspaper tyc.o.o.n purchased the home and restored it to its previous splendor, only to be driven away by the continuous cries of a baby who didn't exist. All those who'd lived in the mansion since then have told of hearing an infant crying at night. Some even reported seeing a young girl flying off the veranda on the fourth floor.

Wesley and Julianna Tarwick, who'd recently purchased the home, were experiencing things that were unexplainable to them. They'd called Sophie and Goebel, asking them to come to the house. They said they needed their help immediately.

Goebel rang the doorbell.

A tall, slender woman, with beady brown eyes and a sour expression on her face, answered the door. "Yes?" she asked, but she didn't invite them inside.

Sophie spoke up. "Are you Mrs. Tarwick?"

"No. Are you the ghost people?" the woman asked, her distaste for the subject apparent.

Goebel took over. "Mrs. Tarwick is expecting us. Can you tell her we're here?" Goebel used his most commanding voice. The woman stood aside and motioned for them to enter.

"I'll bet she wins 'Employee of the Month,' " Sophie mumbled.

"Shhh, not now."

"Wait here," the disagreeable woman ordered, then disappeared.

Sophie raised her brow. "What a hag. Reminds me of a character out of those old gothic Victoria Holt novels I used to read. She probably needs to get laid." She grinned. "It's a definite mood fixer."

"I can't disagree with that. Save those thoughts for later," Goebel said.

She teasingly elbowed his side. "I promise."

The older woman returned, followed by a much younger and prettier version of herself. Tall, rail thin, small brown eyes, which held a trace of sadness. She smiled, and her face lit up like candles on a birthday cake. If only her mother would smile like that, Sophie thought, it might take that sour expression off her face.

The young woman held out her hand. "Thank you for coming. I really appreciate this." She looked over her shoulder. "Mother, you can go now. I want to talk to these people. Alone."

"You're a stupid girl, Julianna," the mother said, sharing her opinion before leaving the main hall in which they were standing.

"I'm sorry. Mother is very skeptical. She thinks Wesley and I are crazy, that we're imagining all these . . . sounds we've been hearing."

"Most people are skeptical, which really translates to fear of the unknown. It's quite common," Sophie said as a way of easing Julianna's embarra.s.sment.

She nodded. "Thank you for that. Mother can be difficult at times. Now if you want to get started, I have the room ready." Julianna eyed their equipment.

Looking at his watch, Goebel asked, "Just one room?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get started. I want to get the cameras in place before dark." He and Sophie grabbed their equipment, leaving two of the rolls of cable behind, since they would only need enough for one room.

Julianna led them up a staircase, which was unlike any Sophie had ever seen. They followed Julianna up three stories; the staircase widened the farther up they climbed. It was solid oak, with carvings from the early eighteenth century. Sophie thought of Toots, who would croak if she saw the interior of this place.

"Down here," Julianna said when they reached the end of a narrow hallway, and she opened the door. "This is where"-she paused, as if afraid to speak of the sounds she heard in the actual room-"we hear what sounds like a baby crying. It starts out as a whimper, then gets louder, and suddenly stops."

Sophie stepped inside the room. Immediately sensing a presence in the room, she set the equipment case down on the floor, raising her hand to indicate no one should speak. The room was small, maybe ten feet by twelve feet. A rocker and cradle were the only pieces of furniture in the room. A long, narrow window directly across from the bedroom door drew her in. As though she were led by unknown forces, Sophie crossed the room, stopping when she reached the window. She placed her hand on the gla.s.s and instantly jerked it away.

"What?" Julianna asked, her voice high-pitched from fright.

"Goebel, set up the infrared camera. Mrs. Tarwick, would you mind leaving us?" Sophie asked from her position by the window.

"Is everything all right?" the young woman asked.

"Please, I need you to leave the room," Sophie said, her voice firm.

"Of course," the young woman said. "I'll be downstairs."

Sophie nodded. As soon as the door closed, a gust of cold air rushed through the room. Goebel stopped what he was doing. "Soph?"

"It's fine. Let me have a moment alone."

Since this was their very first psychic investigation working together as a team, neither knew what to expect. Goebel stepped out of the room, but not before turning on the infrared camera. It was almost completely dark outside. If it were to pick up any images, now would be the time.

Once Sophie was alone in the room, which she knew was the nursery where a little boy had briefly lived, she sat in the wooden rocker, its walnut wood dark and cracked with age. Next to the rocker was a small handcrafted hooded cradle made out of the same wood as the rocking chair. Sophie got up out of the chair and sat on the floor next to the cradle. She placed her hand on the smooth surface, amazed at the craftsmans.h.i.+p. All the joints were dovetailed, and the builder used square nails, quite common in the late eighteenth century. The two slats on top of the cradle were cracked, but otherwise, it was in excellent condition. Sophie gave the cradle a slight push. It rocked smoothly and without any creaks. As she was about to place her hand on the cradle to stop the rocking, she heard a very low whine, almost like a kitten's mewing.

Placing her hand in her lap, she closed her eyes and listened. The soft whimpering turned into what sounded like real-life cries. Sophie whispered, "Tell me, little guy, tell me what it is you want?" She knew from her research that the child was male.

Again, she placed her hand on top of the cradle, letting herself go as she did when she was in a trance. She could see the dark images of three girls. Sophie blinked several times. When the bedroom came into focus, she realized she was having another clairsentience vision. It was the same room, yet what she saw was the room as it had been in another time period. Closing her eyes, then opening them again to make sure this wasn't her imagination, she saw the three girls as they must have been in the late eighteenth century. A small cot placed by the window held a young girl writhing in pain. Two older girls were dressed in long, pale dresses, with the bodices forming a V that led to what must be an ap.r.o.n of sorts. Both wore white cotton bonnets with silk ribbons around them.