Mind Sweeper

Mind Sweeper by Deborah O'Toole is a haunting mystery/suspense novel released by Club Lighthouse Publishing in 2022.

Newly-widowed Beth Mills accepts an outpouring of sympathy from her community after a freak mining accident takes the life of her husband, Aaron. Unbeknownst to anyone, she is secretly delighted that her cruel husband is lost to her, but never expects his vicious ghost to return and haunt her in more ways than one.

From Chapter Three

June 2007

The Funeral

BETH SAT ON her bed, poring over photographs of her husband, old and new. It was not a pleasant task, so she fortified herself with several glasses of wine before undertaking the ghoulish chore.

The sun was setting as she flipped through the images, leaving small shadow spots on the bedroom carpet. She sipped her red wine slowly as she gazed at black and white and color pictures, many of them brining back memories she had hoped were long erased from her mind.

Aaron smiling on their wedding day, giving no hint of his truly dark personality. There was another. Aaron pictured in his work gear and mining hat, standing in front of Misty Canyon Mines with his fellow coal diggers, smiling and looking into the camera with an almost innocent eagerness. And yet another: Aaron with her at the May Day Dance just three weeks ago, a few hours after he had beaten her with his balled-up fist and leaving hidden bruises on her back. His face was passive in the picture, as if all was right in the world, while Beth looked pinched and nervous.

Then she came upon a photograph taken a year ago during the Misty Canyon Mines summer picnic, which was held in the public park nestled between the Ivytown Library and City Hall. Aaron was seated at one of the wooden picnic tables, wearing a white polo shirt and khaki knee-shorts. He looked refreshed and at ease, a slight smile on his face. She stared at his ruddy features, wondering who had taken the picture. She could not remember. It was a blur to her, probably because earlier in the day he viscously kicked her in the shin when she served his breakfast fifteen minutes later than usual.

"This will do," she whispered, taking another sip of wine. "His friends will like this photo. It captures Aaron as they knew him. Too bad I never got a picture of him red with rage as he beat me. Then they'd know the real Aaron, the man they so admired and adored."

She released the photograph and watched it flutter to the top of the pile on her bed. If she had the nerve, and the utter gall to disrespect the dead no matter how loathsome he had been in life, she would proclaim her abuse at his hand to the entire community. But what good would it do now? If anyone did happen to believe her, they would probably find it in appalling poor taste if she revealed the truth so soon after his "tragic" death.

She picked up the picture again, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed, along with her empty glass of wine. Then she swept the rest of the photographs onto the floor with her hand, not caring as they floated and scattered over the carpet.

Beth laid her head on her pillow, her eyes closing wearily. "Somehow, someday, I will get revenge for what Aaron did to me," she said to herself groggily. "Whether he is aware of it from his place in hell or not, I will have my judgment day."

AARON'S EMPTY CASKET was interred in the family mausoleum in Ivytown Cemetery a few days later. Prior to burial, there was a short memorial service at the funeral home.

The Mills Family Mausoleum had been built shortly after Aaron's great-grandfather completed construction on the Mills family home.

The gray-stone structure was deceivingly small, with wrought-iron coverings around the entrance door and the tiny basement windows. A short flight of stairs led into the heart of the mausoleum, which had a large floor space and stone markings for each individual crypt. Beth never liked the building, found it unsettling that it was so close to the house, but Aaron seemed content to have the remains of his father and brother nearby.

"Me and you will be in there someday," he told her often, usually after he had consumed several beers. "We'll be right alongside each other for eternity, with Daddy and Jesse for company."

After Aaron's posthumous burial, at which half of Ivytown attended, Beth hosted a gathering inside the house. She stayed up late the night before, baking cakes and cookies, and preparing trays of cold appetizers. Bob helped her serve tea and coffee, assisting her with the wash-up afterward.

Beth wasn't sure how she made it through the reception with her sanity intact. She wanted the entire farce to be over with, but she forged ahead with the proper sad smile pasted on her face.

Roger Ellison came to the reception, having missed the crypt-side service. He was one of Aaron's oldest friends, the two of them having gone to high school together. Roger was now a local doctor who operated Ivytown's only walk-in medical clinic, which specialized in treating miners and their families. He had been married and divorced twice in ten years, with three children who lived with their respective mothers in Portland and Seattle.

Roger reminded Beth of Aaron in so many ways - the tall frame, husky build and blond hair. But where Aaron had possessed a classically handsome face, Roger's countenance was rounder, less defined, and his eyes were coal black rather than green. Roger, too, was kinder and more thoughtful than Aaron was in private, his concern for the welfare of others prevailing over secretive and hellish needs.

Despite Roger's medical qualifications, Aaron had never seen fit to use him as their primary doctor over the years. This puzzled Beth in the first flush of their marriage, but after the beatings commenced she understood all too well why her husband avoided the local medico in favor of strangers at a hospital in Portland. Roger never questioned his friend's choices, which puzzled Beth even further although she never pursued an answer for fear of retribution.

Roger looked sad and exhausted, his blond hair tousled with dark circles under his eyes. Beth had not seen him at the Community Center the night Bob Palmer spoke to the crowd because he had been at the mine site, waiting for rescue workers to bring the injured and maimed up to the surface. His wait had been in vain as the course of events played out. Beth had not seen him since the official announcement that the trapped miners were dead.

Roger made his way to her and hugged her lightly. He stood back to look at her face, and she saw the sorrow in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Beth," he said, his voice hoarse. "I wish there was something I could have done."

Beth nodded in understanding, hoping she appeared convincing to one of Aaron's oldest friends. "I know, Roger. There was nothing you could do. It was out of everyone's hands, including the rescue workers."

Roger looked down, shaking his head. "Nothing like this has happened here since . . . well, since the accident that took Aaron's father and brother some twenty years ago. I suppose that's a good average as far as mining accidents go, but it doesn't provide solace for those left behind."

"No, it doesn't," she agreed with a murmur.

"I'm sorry I haven't called or stopped by sooner," he apologized, looking at her again. She saw the tears in his eyes. "After I left the mine site, I returned to the clinic. I have been inundated with patients - wives, children, and other kin - all of them distraught and experiencing symptoms of grief. I can't tell you how many prescriptions for sleeping pills I've filled in the last few days."

"Poor thing," Beth said with genuine sympathy. "You need to get some rest, Roger, or you'll be the one collapsing. Then you won't be of use to anyone."

He looked stricken. "I didn't mean to imply that my brand of suffering is worse than that of the community," he apologized again. "I just wanted you to know why I hadn't contacted you sooner."

Beth took his hand in a gesture of forced sympathy. "I completely understand."

He leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. "You're busy with this reception right now, so I'll get back to you, okay? If you ever need to talk, just pick up the phone and call me. I'm in the book."

"Aaron had you on speed dial," Beth said with a small smile.

Roger tried to return her smile but it came back as a cheerless grimace. He squeezed her hand and moved on. "At least he didn't say 'is there anything I can do?' or 'I'm sorry for your loss' before he walked away," Beth thought with relief. "He is a bit of a hand-toucher, though."

Beth also saw Anthony Simonetti at the gathering. She looked forward to her private meeting with him later. She was still uncertain how much Aaron actually left her in his will, but anxious how it might affect her future.

Although well-known by Ivytown residents, Beth didn't really count any of them as close friends. She had always been afraid to let anyone too close for fear they would deduce her abusive and shameful circumstances. She saw Edward and Marilyn Daniels at the service, looking somewhat out of place in their old-fashioned mourning garb - black and shapeless - from another generation. She idly wondered if Edward and Marilyn had told their niece Maxie about Aaron's death, but she quickly shrugged the thought aside.

She was surprised when Amy Grace approached her, engaging in lengthy conversation. Amy was the secretary at Misty Canyon Mines, and she knew most of its employees quite well. She was a tall woman in her early thirties with long blonde hair and blue eyes.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Mills," Amy said to her in a quiet aside.

Beth steeled herself to the phrase, hackneyed by its monotony and pretension. "Thank you, Amy. But please call me Beth."

Amy smiled. "If there is anything I can do for you . . ."

Beth studied the woman briefly, realizing there was something familiar about her name. Not just a sense of work-related general acquaintance, but a kernel of personal association that came with the surname of Grace.

"I seem to remember that Aaron knew your family," she said. "But I can't recall . . ."

Amy reddened slightly. "My older sister Andrea dated Aaron in high school," she replied.

"I see," Beth said faintly. "Whatever happened between them?"

"Aaron wanted to work in the mine as soon as he graduated from high school, but Andrea wanted to go to college first. The summer after graduation they drifted apart and lost touch. My sister went to Ashton College in Vancouver, where she also met and married a fellow student. They still live in Vancouver."

"You must be upset by Aaron's death, too," Beth observed. "Did you know him well?"

Amy nodded. "I knew your husband as well as anyone else in the mine. Since he was a supervisor, he attended staff meetings in the office. He was such a thoughtful and intelligent man, always bringing croissants to the conferences. We are going to miss him."

"Thoughtful and intelligent, my ass," Beth repeated Amy's words in her mind. "He never let me eat croissants." Aloud, she said: "Aaron had a great many friends in the mine. It's understandable as he worked there for most of his adult life, but I'm afraid I don't know them all."

"He spoke so highly of you, Beth," Amy said, almost in eager fashion. "He bragged about what a good cook you are, and how you kept your home so clean. He also mentioned your love of needlework and seemed particularly proud that you made some of your own clothes."

Beth was speechless. When had the bastard ever spoken highly of her, especially to her face? She felt a bubble of laughter coming on, so she quickly covered her mouth with her hand and coughed.

Amy touched her arm.

"Oh God, not another arm-toucher," Beth thought wildly.

"I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sure hearing about how Aaron spoke of you is painful right now. I apologize."

Beth recovered herself. "You didn't upset me, Amy, and you have no need to apologize. It's going to take me a long while to get through all this, but hearing about Aaron's affection helps." Smiling, she added: "I need to tend to the other guests, so will you excuse me?"

"Of course, Beth. Please let me know if there is anything I can do . . ."