Movies and Murder Read online

  “No, you don’t,” Anna insisted.

  “Seriously, girls. Stop this nonsense,” Val insisted, holding out her hand for the bag.

  Anna hesitated but gave in.

  “This must be some amazing lunch for you to be guarding it like this.” Unwrapping the folded top, she peered inside, her eyes widening.

  Anna shrank back like a dog who’d been caught chewing on its master’s slippers.

  “What is this?” Val asked, narrowing her eyes at the tasty confections inside.

  “They’re from that new bakery in town, aren’t they? The one you live above?” Belle pointed out, giving her sister completely away.

  Anna glared at Belle with squinted eyes.

  “Is it true?” Val asked, acting more hurt than she actually was.

  Anna looked down at her feet. “It’s true. I’m sorry. She gave me a whole bag for free on my way out this morning.”

  “A likely story,” Val replied, reaching into the bag and producing a French Cruller. Holding it up to her nose with only her thumb and index finger she gave it a sniff. “It does smell good.” After some hesitation, she bit into the fluffy dessert and chewed.

  “Well, how is it?” Belle asked.

  Savoring the bite for another few moments, Val shook her head. “Passable, I guess.” Handing over the bag to Anna, she kept the cruller, taking another bite.

  “You’re not mad?” Anna asked quietly.

  Val turned around with a smile. “Why would I be mad?” she burst out laughing, letting on that she’d been playing the whole time.

  Anna let out a big sigh, holding her hand to her chest. “Don’t scare me like that. I thought you were really upset.”

  “And you honestly thought I was going to be upset which is why you tried to keep it a secret,” she shot back with an all too large smile on her face.

  “I guess you’re right,” the older sister agreed.

  Val tightened up her features again in a glare, shaking a finger. “But don’t you ever let me catch you with those again,” she ordered.

  Anna got solemn again.

  Belle nudged her older sister with her elbow. “She’s still joking.”

  “I-I know that,” Anna said.

  Smiling, Val popped the last of the donut into her mouth with a satisfied grin.

  She was a harsh judge of baked goods, and if she finished the whole thing, Belle knew that meant Val really liked it.

  * * *

  By six in the evening, the restaurant was packed with customers and cars were buying tickets for the seven o’clock showing of The Gorgon. While it was still light out, Belle had gone ahead and played the movie on the small stage screen in the restaurant area for people to casually watch.

  The showing was reaching the film’s climax, where the ragged, yet handsome university professor went to the castle to chop off the gorgon’s head and end the string of horrific murders in the area.

  “People are loving it,” Belle exclaimed, bringing a tray of dirty dishes from the dining room into the kitchen.

  “You act as if you helped make the movie,” Anne jabbed.

  Belle rolled her eyes. “No, but it’s one I’ve always enjoyed. It’s fun watching people experience a movie for the first time.”

  The older sister had just finished arranging a few beignets on a tray for table two. A dish of hot melted chocolate syrup sat in a silver serving dish beside them. “Maybe they’re just freaked out by that dirty statue you bought.”

  “Hey, I got a good deal on that statue. I think it really adds some ambience to the movie.”

  Anna sighed. “I suppose. I just think it’s creepy and ugly.”

  “Did you remember to put those long green beans into the goulash?” Belle asked, ignoring her sister’s slight against the restaurant’s latest decoration.

  “Yeah, but why did you decide to add that in at the last minute? You’ve never made it that way before.”

  Belle smirked with amusement. “Because it’s now being sold as Gorgon Goulash! Get it? The long green beans look like snakes?”

  Anna rolled her eyes. “Now that is really dumb.”

  “Say what you will, but people will love it.”

  “Here is that dessert tray they’ve been asking for at table two,” Anna said, changing the subject from goofy movie monsters and food puns.

  “On it,” Belle announced, grabbing the tray. As she stepped through the doors, she was almost hit by a zooming waitress. “Woah,” she exclaimed.

  “S-Sorry, Belle,” the teenager said, holding out her hands for balance. “I’m still getting used to these.”

  Looking down, Belle saw that the young woman was wearing retro roller skates. Recently, in order to add to the nostalgia of the drive-in, Belle had made a new initiative where people could order food from their cars rather than coming up to the concession window. Girls in poodle skirts and wearing roller skates would deliver the food on trays that could hang on the slightly raised window of the car door.

  At the end of summer the previous year, she had saved up and had the dirt parking area paved. It added a cleaner aesthetic and allowed the girls to roller skate easily. It created a very specific charm about the place.

  “Oh, Jackie, you don’t have to wear them inside the restaurant. That’s only for when we close the dining room at six-thirty and are running the outdoor showings.” They had a very specific schedule set up. The restaurant always opened at four in the afternoon. Patrons could come in and have a regular sit-down experience with their families while old movies played in the background. Once six o’clock hit, they started letting people buy tickets and park in the movie lot. At six-thirty, they closed down the dining room and concentrated on the drive-in itself.

  The movie event always started at seven—or whenever it got dark.

  While a lot of local families enjoyed the restaurant, more people came out in droves for the classic drive-in experience.

  “You don’t have to wear them until at least six-thirty or seven,” she said, reiterating her point.

  A look of realization came over the young woman’s face and her mouth made an O shape. “Ah, sorry about that. Guess I got confused.”

  “It’s not a problem. Just run to the break room and take them off for now.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  Belle continued across the room toward table two, keeping her eyes on the movie. The university professor was sneaking up behind the gorgon with his sword, preparing to chop her head off.

  The patrons were all engrossed, leaning in for the great climax of the film.

  She was so concentrated on the movie, she didn’t realize something was wrong until she heard a big crash. Glancing over, she saw that her waitress had just rolled right into the gorgon statue on her way to the break room.

  She sat on her butt, her pink poodle skirt all spread out on the floor and her roller skates sticking out. “Ow,” she groaned. “I’m okay.”

  But Belle had her eye on the statue.

  It bobbed one way and then the other.

  “Look out,” she cried toward the nearby table.

  The statue came face forward just as everyone leaped aside, crashing down onto the table and knocking it over at the same moment the gorgon’s head rolled on down the steps in the movie.

  “What was that noise?” Anna said, stepping into the room.

  “Is everyone okay?” Belle called over to the patrons who’d barely escaped. They all nodded.

  Anna went over and helped Jackie to her feet. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Anna.” Looking up toward Belle, she looked like she might cry. “I’m really sorry about your statue.”

  “It’s fine, as long as everyone is okay,” Belle said, walking over.

  “Is it broken?” she asked.

  “Let’s just see,” Belle said, crouching down and slowly turning the statue over with the help of one of the nearby men. “Thanks,” she said.

  Once it was face up, she saw the huge gaping crack down the face.

  “Oh, no,” the young woman cried out, tears appearing in her eyes.

  “It’s okay, Jackie. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Belle tried to reassure her while Anna put one arm around her.

  “She’s right. You’re okay,” Anna reiterated, proving that the sisters could make a great team when they wanted to.

  Belle sighed, the initial adrenaline wearing off, and looked back toward the cracked statue. That was when something odd caught her attention, something inside the statue.

  “What is it?” Anna asked, recognizing her sister’s confused expression.

  Leaning in close, Belle got a good look through the crack, even going so far as peeling a few extra loose chunks away. “Uhm, Anna?”

  “Yeah?” she asked, trying to see.

  “You better call Chief Bronson,” she said, using the chief’s official title, despite the fact that he was like a father figure to the girls.

  “What? Why?” Anna pressed, realizing there must be something seriously wrong.

  Belle looked up with a pale expression. “Because I think there is a human skull inside the statue.”

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  Police Chief Dan Bronson was a round man with a tight-fitting uniform, a bushy black mustache, and a nearly bald dark head. He was one of two law enforcement officials in the small town, the only other being Roderick Pence—a late twenty-something local who had attended the police academy in New Orleans but opted to come back and work under Bronson’s wing.

  The two officers stood over the statue while the crowd of customers was backed up against the far wall. Some had left for the evening before the police had even arrived, but others hung back to see what exactly was going on.

  “That definitely
looks like a skull, doesn’t it,” Dan huffed behind the burly mustache.

  “Sure does, Dan,” Rod agreed, shining a flashlight into the hole. He passed the beam of light along the rest of the statue. “Do you think there is more in there?”

  “Only one way to find out. Go grab my toolkit from the patrol car, will you?”

  “On it,” he agreed, rushing out into the night.

  The patter of fresh rain could be heard on the asphalt as the door opened and closed. Belle figured it was all for the best, anyway. She would have to cancel that evening’s showing of The Gorgon, much to her dismay. However, with a police investigation—and maybe even a homicide—she knew that they would have to shut down either way.

  Of course, there was no reason to say that it was a homicide yet. The skull inside could very well be fake, maybe a part of some sort of elaborate haunted house decoration or film prop that was originally meant to break open and expose a skeleton inside for effect.

  It wasn’t that unheard of. More and more movie and TV studios were filming in Louisiana lately. Popular supernatural television shows, geared toward a teenage audience, were a staple of the area. As a result, prop houses had begun popping up around New Orleans and the outlying cities.

  A moment later, the door opened again and Rod returned with a black plastic toolbox in hand. He passed it over to Dan and squatted down beside him.

  The chief opened the box pulled out a chisel and hammer, then paused. Looking up at Belle, he gave her a sympathetic look, raising both eyebrows. “Belle, I’m going to have to crack this thing open wider to have a better look.”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. “That’s okay. I understand.”

  “Now, if you don’t mind stepping back a little,” he suggested. She followed his instruction and moved away from the potential crime scene.

  While many law enforcement officers in a small town like this one would take the steps to call in the state police or even the FBI when something as serious as a dead body—or murder—turned up, that wasn’t how Chief Bronson worked.

  He’d been the chief of police in this little hamlet for too many years to count and had always managed to wrap things up on his own when need be. Despite his chubby, aged, and kind-hearted appearance, he was a skilled lawman who wasn’t afraid to take matters into his own hands—even if he wasn’t always the most orthodox in his methods.

  While daily police work entailed such mundane things as settling familial squabbles, shooing alligators back into the swampland, and ticketing tourists, he didn’t let that stop him from taking on the bigger cases as they came his way.

  Belle, who had grown up watching the man at work, and had been taken under his wing when he took over the role of father figure in her life, had always admired and looked up to Dan—as well as his approach to the law.

  Another reason for his slightly different approach to law enforcement and investigation was due to his strong belief in the supernatural. Having come from a family of hoodoo practitioners (an African-American subset of folk magic related in part to voodoo), he had seen and encountered his fair share of the unexplainable and unknown. Not to mention, he had become aware that Sunken Grove itself seemed to draw in supernatural entities.

  As a result, he always waited until it proved absolutely necessary to call in any extra authorities. Any death, especially a murder, could have relations to folk magic or ghosts.

  It was best to clear that possibility first.

  Belle had always somewhat bought into Dan and Val’s belief of the supernatural and their hoodoo rituals, but Anna had always dismissed it as local hooey—at least until Harlem had shown up and proven to her otherwise.

  As a side note, Belle knew that Dan was also a man of great pride who preferred the honor of solving cases on his own.

  “Well, would you look at that,” Rod hummed thoughtfully, peeling away another piece of the plaster and wax outer mold. Belle, unable to stifle her curiosity, took a step forward and stood up on her tiptoes for a better look.

  For sure, there was a ribcage sticking out of the chest area they had just carved through.

  “I’m willing to venture a bet that there is a whole skeleton in there,” Dan deduced. Standing up, he put up both hands for the room of guests to quiet down and pay attention to him. “Ladies and gentlemen, I appreciate your cooperation in this, but I’d like to ask you all to head home for the evening. It looks like my partner and I have our work cut out for us.”

  There were a few minor groans of complaint from the guests, but without much more protest than that, they started out the door.

  “Anna? Do you mind getting on the horn with Doctor Farewell and telling him to get down here?” Dan asked, looking at the older sister standing behind the bar.

  “I’m on it, Dan,” she agreed, trotting off into the kitchen to make the call.

  They didn’t have a designated medical examiner or coroner in town, just a mortician with a doctorate who knew his human anatomy. If he wasn’t available, they sometimes called in the local family doc who took care of everyone’s aches, pains, and sicknesses.

  If ever any lab tests or an autopsy were needed, they had to ship the body off to New Orleans.

  In this case, however, there wouldn’t be a whole lot to cut up and examine.

  “Rod, do we have any crime scene tape in the car?”

  “I’ll go check,” the young officer offered, heading back to the door again.

  Belle raised an eyebrow at Dan.

  “Hey, I’ve gotta be careful, you know. If this is a real dead body and not just some goofy prank, I have to treat this like a crime scene.”

  “You think it is real?” she pressed.

  “Don’t know. That’s what we’ve got the doc coming for.”

  “Makes sense,” she agreed.

  Dan ran a finger through his mustache, a nervous habit he had while he was deep in thought. “Where did you say you got this thing from?” he asked.

  “Don Delta, the antique salesman.”

  “Don?”

  “He sold it to me earlier today.”

  The chief tapped his temple as if writing a mental note in his head. “I’ll have to remember to track him down before he leaves town again.”

  “If he hasn’t left already,” Val said, coming in from the kitchen. “You know how that man is, hopping from one place to another.”

  “I know,” Dan agreed, going back to his work of chipping away at the statue to reveal more and more bones inside.

  “I need to talk to you,” a gruff whisper came from behind Belle.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Harlem floating there.

  With a bob of his head, he floated through her (sending chills up and down her spine) past the crime scene and into one of the bathrooms.

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  “What’s up?” Belle asked as she stepped into the bathroom. She’d had to squeeze past the crime scene into the hallway where the bathrooms and break room were situated, but Dan hadn’t minded. He’d done a decent job of educating the girls on proper crime scene etiquette. Of course, once he had that police tape up, they wouldn’t be allowed anywhere inside of it.

  Dan may have some unorthodox methods, but he wasn’t foolish. He tried to keep at least some of the procedures intact to preserve evidence.

  In this case, however, things were a tad different. After all, if the skeleton inside was real, that meant the person had died or been killed somewhere else completely. There wouldn’t be any immediate evidence on the scene to point to a killer—not that wasn’t attached to the statue at least.

  Harlem stood facing the mirror, looking at the empty room on the other side since he didn’t cast a reflection.

  “Well?” Belle insisted, waiting for an answer to her question.

  Turning away from the mirror, he looked at her. “I think that’s a real dead body.”

  Cocking one eyebrow up, she folded her arms and leaned back against the door. “What makes you say that?”

  The monochrome ghost twisted his hands together in thought. “I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but I think there was a spirit trapped inside that statue.”

  Belle’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? How is that even possible?”

  Stroking his pencil mustache, a habit he’d picked up after he died, he floated over to her. “If I remember correctly, some things I’ve read about voodoo and folk practice talk about the act of trapping someone’s spirit in a vessel.”