“What?” Alex said, as Mom nodded and Diana raised her eyebrows.
“Now, don’t start that again, Violet.” My father poured himself another shot of whiskey.
“He’s the best suspect. He killed that girl years ago, left town in a shower of scandal, then returned and within a month—two more murders!” She pounded the table to make her point. “I’d like to find out where he’s been living and see what their murder rate has been.”
“What is she talking about?” Seth asked, looking from me to Diana to Mom.
I glanced at Diana to gain some courage, and then began the story of Milo Stark/Jones. As a senior in high school he had dated Julia Wyatt. She was beautiful, a cheerleader, on the debate team, straight A’s, the whole package. Her family was not psychic, and they ran the hotel in town and owned the marina. This lack of psychic ability put them on a lower social rung, according to Vi, but Milo’s family was also not psychic. They owned the restaurant. Everyone expected Milo and Julia to end up married, but, just before graduation, Julia disappeared. Some of her clothes were found in the woods near the highway. The clothes had bloodstains, and Milo was the main suspect in a possible murder. Her body was never found. Without a body the authorities couldn’t arrest him, but the town did a good job of trying and convicting him anyway. Just about every psychic in town had a crack at locating her body, but no one was successful and she hadn’t been seen since. Her father had been distraught and had ranted about the incompetence of the police force right up until he’d died a year ago. It was Crystal Haven’s terrible unsolved mystery.
“Humph,” said Vi when I finished.
“What does that mean?” I said, turning toward her.
“It means you still think Milo is innocent,” she said, her eyebrows accusing.
“I think there has to be evidence before concluding he’s guilty,” I said.
“Well, I can tell you, even though no one could locate the body, there were plenty of people who thought she was dead and that he had killed her.” Vi waggled her finger at all of us.
“Now, Vi, let’s not get worked up over Milo,” my mother said. “That was a long time ago. No one has ever contacted Julia in life or in Spirit.” She patted Vi’s hand into submission.
“Something is wrong with that Milo,” Vi grumbled. “I’m telling you, he’s never been right. Takes after his mother. I’m sure Joe regrets ever taking on the whole mess after Mike died.”
I sensed my parents go very still.
“What? Mike who?” Alex asked. Diana and I shrugged and looked to Vi.
Vi kept her gaze on the table, but said, “Mike Jones was Milo’s biological father. Joe Stark adopted him. Cecile was pregnant with Milo when she married Joe, which was right after Mike died.”
My father was glaring at Vi across the table. She looked up, possibly sensing the waves of irritation directed at her.
“What?” she said. “Everyone knows.” She put her arms out to encompass the room.
“Now they do. Cecile and Joe made it clear they wanted it to remain quiet for the boy’s sake,” Dad said.
“Well clearly ‘the boy’ found out, or he wouldn’t have changed his name,” Vi said.
My mother started nervously dishing up chili. She had a tendency to flit about when my father and Vi argued.
“Frank, Vi, please. It all happened a long time ago. Let’s just leave it alone, okay?” she said.
“How did Mike Jones die?” I ignored my mother’s pained look.
“Hunting,” said my father.
“What do you mean, ‘hunting’?”
“He and Joe were out hunting, and he got hit by a stray bullet.” My father had become interested in the pattern on the tablecloth.
“They never found out who shot him, the gun was never found, and the hunter never came forward. Cecile was devastated.” My mother wiped a tear and glanced at Vi, who had become very still.
I had a sudden feeling that there was much more to this story than they were telling. The fact that I had never heard it before was curious in itself, but Vi now looked paler than when she heard Tish had died.
“I think I’ll go lie down for a little while,” Vi said, and stood quickly. Her hands shook as she pushed the chair back under the table.
We all watched her go, and it felt as if the room itself held its breath for a few moments after she left.
“Okay, spill it,” I said, glaring at my mother and then my father.
“What are you talking about?” My mother had assumed a confused expression that I knew from long experience was fake.
“What’s up with Vi?”
“There’s nothing ‘up.’ She’s just been under a lot of strain trying to get information out of the only witnesses to the murders of two of our closest friends.” She passed out the chili-filled bowls and didn’t look at me. “I would think even you would understand that, Clyde.”
I focused my glare on my father.