Page 58 of Stay Buried

Whatwasthat smell?

“Well, we’ve had a long day of traveling and I’m done in,” Ash said, standing. “It was so nice to meet you, Mrs. Banks. Thank you for letting us visit.”

Malcolm gave her a puzzledwe’re leaving already?look, but rose from his seat as well.

“How long are you two in town?” Josephine asked.

“Just a couple of days,” Ashley said.

Josephine turned to Malcolm, put a hand on his arm. “I hate to ask, dear, but I wonder if you would mind helping me with a few things around the house while you’re here? The storm windows need to be put up. And there’s a loose shutter in the back. A sink that won’t stop dripping. It’s an old house, and I’m just not able to keep up with it like I once was. There are men and boys from town who offer to help, but I hate to be a pest. I’m happy to pay you a fair wage for any work you do, of course.”

“He’d love to help,” Ashley answered. “And you don’t need to payhim. As the new owners, we’re responsible for the upkeep of the place. Isn’t that right, Malcolm?”

Her brother flashed the old woman a warm smile. “Of course. I’m happy to help.”

“You come back tomorrow morning, then. I’ll make blueberry muffins. Can’t have you working on an empty stomach, can we?”

“I’ll be here. Ten o’clock okay?”

“Perfect,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough.”

They started moving out of the room.

“One more thing,” Ashley said. “Do you happen to know who Frankie O’Massey was? I saw his name on some papers Gram had.”

Josephine smiled. “Frankie was an orphan girl, a distant relative, a second or third cousin of Margaret’s, I believe? Anyway, Margaret and Thomas took her in. This was back before Charlie was born. Your great-grandfather was teaching her medicine. She became his assistant.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

Josephine frowned. “I do believe she died with the others when the flu hit.”

Ashley nodded. “Maybe her headstone is in the cemetery. We’ll look.”

“Frances O’Massey. That was her given name. My older brothers told me stories about her—she was kind of what you’d call an odd duck. Wore her uncle’s cast-off clothing. Smoked a pipe and drank brandy with the men.”

Ashley smiled, wishing she could have met Frankie. “Sounds like she was ahead of her time.”

“I suppose you’re right, dear.”

Malcolm had started moving toward the front door, and was studying the clothespin dolls on an end table.

“Mrs. Banks,” he called, “what’s this?” He was holding one of the figures in his hand. But this one was different. It was taller than the others, as if the little wooden prongs had been extended, and wore along patchwork coat. Instead of the round top of the clothespin representing the doll’s head, white clay had been sculpted into the shape of a skull. The skull (Ash hoped she was mistaken here) of a horse, with red pits for eyes and large teeth.

“That?” Josephine said with an embarrassed, girlish giggle. “That’s the knackerman.”

“Knackerman?” Ashley asked, not sure if she’d heard correctly.

“Oh, it’s just an old story. Something the children tell each other. They say”—she lowered her voice—“that he lives in the woods outside of town. That he was to blame for the great flu, for any hardship the town has undergone since.”

Malcolm turned the doll in his hand.

“But it’s just a story,” Josephine said, smiling a huge, tooth-baring smile. “Pure horsefeathers.”

And she sounded so much like Gram then that Ashley’s legs felt weak and she reached for her brother to steady herself.

TWENTY-SIXFRANKIE

March 13, 1919