The Hawley Book of the Dead by Chrysler Szarlan

Author:Chrysler Szarlan [Szarlan, Chrysler]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-345-54503-9
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2014-09-22T16:00:00+00:00

I had begun a script for one of our colleagues, Setekh the Magnificent, which at that point I called Rosabelle, Believe. It was a fanciful re-creation of a Houdini séance, with Setekh playing Houdini come back from the dead. It took advantage of Setekh’s innate creepiness, so it wasn’t really a far cry from my haunted-New-England-themed shows like The Devil’s Dance, or even Mascherari, the intricate Venetian Carnevale show, our last.

But I knew Rosabelle was far from my best work. It didn’t help that although I’d seen him around for years, I never liked Setekh. He made me uneasy. He’d been touring in Europe at the time of Jeremy’s death, and well after. I was glad he wasn’t there to perform at the memorial show. I kept reminding myself that I didn’t have to like him to write for him.

After I’d fiddled with the script as long as I could bear, I powered down my laptop in frustration. I noticed the book of Hawley history I’d gotten at the fair on the counter where I’d left it. I picked it up, started reading. Maybe I’d discover more about the Five Corners, the Dyer family, clues that might lead me to knowledge about the disappearances, about Nan’s Sears connections, anything at all. But my reading was again as fruitless as my work on the script.

When Mrs. Pike had gone, Nathan came in to tell me that the girls were in the barn showing the horses off to Falcon Eddy.

“You know, I do feel better that he’s here,” I told him. “Fai, at least, is still feeling unsafe.” I told him what she’d said.

“I guess having him around doesn’t hurt. What I want to know is, how did he get here?”

“Nan sent for him. Other than that, I couldn’t say. He seems okay. Do you think he’s okay?”

“Your Nan wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

“Ha. I’m not so sure.… Nathan, I just wish I knew what to do.”

“You’re already doing everything you can do.”

He always told the truth, Nathan did. But maybe he trusted me too much. I was more like a second mother to him, after all. I searched his face. There were few signs of Jeremy, but they were there in his high forehead, the sweep of his light hair. I felt tears welling, threatening to drown me. “Oh, Nathan. I miss him.”

“I know.” He put an arm around me, patted me. “But he wouldn’t be doing anything different, chère. And he believed in you.”

“I wish I knew … I don’t know, just more. Where the Fetch is. What really happened here, why everyone is worried it will happen again.”

“Did you find anything in this?” He ruffled the pages of the Hawley history. I wiped at my eyes, even though the tears hadn’t come, a preventive measure.

“Nothing interesting. Nothing about what happened in 1924.”

“That guy Hank said it all started in the fall the year before, didn’t he? It seems strange that there wouldn’t be anything in here about Hawley Five Corners. Was it just these few houses?”

“No, a hundred people or so lived here.

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