They both helped themselves and savored the mild nutty flavor emboldened by the chilies.
“Speaking of the Franciscans, I presume they would have been involved if there had been witchcraft accusations, but I can’t think of any,” Ellen said. “The most interesting thing that’s happened around here was back in the ’90s, when some children found several skulls and femur bones scattered about.”
Harper choked on her wine. “Excuse me?”
“At first the authorities thought it might be the work of a serial killer, but according to the forensic anthropologist the police called in, the bones were hundreds of years old. Turns out they were from a long-forgotten cemetery and had been unearthed over the years due to soil erosion. When they located the cemetery and examined the rest of the graves, they discovered a number of empty coffins.”
“The bones must have been washed away in a storm or something, like the ones the children found. Could it have been the result of a vampire scare? I was just reading up on those.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re right, that wouldn’t make sense,” Harper mused. “During typical vampire scares folks wanted to prevent the dead from rising by keeping the bodiesinthe coffins. Usually the skeletons are face down, or stabbed through the heart, or beheaded…But the bones were always in the coffins…”
Harper stopped herself when she spied the expression on Ellen’s face.
“Sorry. TMI. The point is that coffins discovered with the bodies missing were more likely tocausea vampire panic than be a response to one.”
“There were rumors about the Perles family, you know.”
“Of Perles Mansion fame?”
Ellen nodded. “Soren Perles was the only doctor for miles around, who at one point was highly respected. His sister, Isabel, was considered a wild child, and became famous for her raucous dinner parties attended by artists and writers and the like. And I suppose that for her time and station, she was a bit wild. But you know what they say about well-behaved women rarely making history.”
“I do indeed. So what were the rumors?”
“That the rest of the family might not have died of natural causes, if you catch my drift. And there are some odd parallels with Delilah and her brother, come to think about it,” Ellen mused, staring into the ruby red liquid in her glass, her cheeks rosy from the wine. “People whispered that Soren and Isabel were involved in an incestuous affair.”
“Joel mentioned that on the tour. Was this rumor based on anything?”
“That’s hard to know, especially given the passage of time. As I was saying, it doesn’t take much to start a rumor in a place like this. After most of his family died, and Isabel became a spiritualist and then died the way she did…” She shrugged. “Some suspect Soren Perles’s spirit still haunts the town.”
“Why would he be haunting the town?”
“Who knows? I have to suppose that the motivations and workings of the great beyond are a bit different than ours.” Ellen tilted her head. “They say he was found hanging from the Witch Tree. Perhaps he’s still tormented.”
“Hauntings, missing body parts, incestuous siblings, and now someone buried alive,” Harper mused with a yawn. “Interesting little town you’ve got here.”
“Isn’t it, though?”
“As for now, I think I’d best get to bed. Another glass of this wine and I won’t be able to negotiate the stairs to my apartment. Next thing you knowI’llbe the one in the cemetery.”
After making sure Ellen had taken her evening pills, Harper washed the wineglasses, put away the leftover cheese and crackers, and picked up the grocery list Ellen had prepared. She hugged the elderly woman, thanked her for the wine and conversation, and headed out.
Ellen was so earnest it was sometimes jarring, and she did not always “get” Harper’s snarky sense of humor. But she was smart and endearing and was Harper’s only local friend, really, other than Tariq.
It was kind of pathetic, now that she thought about it. At her birthday party the other day, the only attendees other than Ellen and Tariq were a few faculty acquaintances from Monterey College and a handful of Tariq’s many friends, whom she scarcely knew.
You’ve got to get yourself a life, Harp.
It was just that…life was a lot. As a younger woman, looking to the future, she had never factored in how very wearying life could be. How sick of everyone’s crap she would become, as Cate Blanchett had said. She felt like getting that emblazoned on her arm. Maybe she should get a tattoo…
Harper locked Ellen’s door behind her and paused on the front porch. Balancing on one foot as she pulled on her left boot, Harper had that feeling again: as though she were being watched. She peered into the darkness, searching for the dog. Or…someone.
The sidewalk appeared empty, as did the street.
All seemed normal: The evening air was lightly scentedwith woodsmoke and the brine off the bay. Neighbors’ windows glowed with the flickering blue of television screens. Crickets chirped. The sonorous notes of Ellen’s wind chimes reminded Harper of the ones at the Perles Mansion.
As she skirted the house and crossed the back lawn to the garage, Harper looked this way and that, checking behind her, but saw nothing beyond the stillness of the night-shrouded trees and the low fences separating Ellen’s lot from the neighbors’ bungalows.
