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 Five

June 2007

Nightmare Inauguration

THE NIGHTMARES BEGAN the week after Aaron's funeral.

Beth gradually eased herself into a comfortable routine. She rose late, ate a big breakfast, and then took a long walk in the cemetery woodlands away from the bastard's grave. She typically enjoyed a leisurely lunch on the deck, and then a nap with a bit of television in bed. She ate a light supper, and then devoted her evenings to sewing and needlework in the attic before retiring after midnight.

A few days after the funeral service, Beth decided it was time to get rid of Aaron's personal belongings. The presence of his clothes, his combs, brushes, soap and other items made her uneasy as she still slept in the bedroom they once shared.

After obtaining several cardboard boxes from the local grocery store, she gathered Aaron's clothes from the bedroom closet and dresser, his shoes, his bedside books and reading glasses, his shaving accessories and his aftershave lotion, Aqua Velva.

How she hated the smell of Aqua Velva. The scent of it was in her nostrils forever. The stale aroma lingered as she remembered his years of abuse, bent over as he beat her senseless or raped her. She shuddered. For good measure, she took the remaining bottle of cologne and poured it down the sink.

She packed his brushes and combs, recalling how he used to take great care in making his blond hair appear naturally spiky, spending more time on his outer shell than she ever did. His hair was so thick he resorted to using hairbrushes rather than combs. When it came time for a trim he would only trust the local barber in Ivytown, Miguel Sanchez, who had been taking care of the miners' hair for many years.

After she finished packing his belongings, she hauled the three boxes to the attic, one by one. Shoving them in a far corner, she placed a blanket over the top of the boxes so she wouldn't be reminded of them every time she came into the room.

For the most part Beth was content, happier than she had been in many years. Aside from occasional bad memories, she felt like she was on vacation and loathed the idea it might come to an end.

But of course it did. The first nightmare came on a late June evening. She was curled into a ball in the middle of her bed, sleeping peacefully. She saw herself as such in the nightmare, the setting almost surreal in its tranquility.

Then the tall windows flung open violently, bringing a rush of wind across the room and onto the bed. The air was uncharacteristically cold for June, so Beth shivered and huddled deeper under her blanket.

Footsteps awoke her in the nightmare. They came from the corridor outside the bedroom, approaching the door with agonizing slowness. They were heavy steps, like those made by someone wearing work boots.

In the nightmare, Beth began to slowly waken, vaguely annoyed by the listlessness of the footsteps. "If you're coming in, do it already," she groused with impatience.

As if in answer, the bedroom door opened with an odd creak that she'd never noticed before. She lay still in the bed, her breath shallow as she waited. She heard the plodding footsteps move across the carpet, and then suddenly come to a halt.

She felt the bed jolt when the footsteps stopped, as if the person coming for her bumped against the mattress. She opened her eyes unhurriedly; afraid of what - or who - she might see.

The first thing she envisioned was the murky light emanating from the miner's hat, placed square in the forehead. She sat up in the bed, cold fear gripping her insides. She was terrified, but she had to know who was standing over her with such quiet interest.

The shadow of Aaron's face showed underneath the miner's hat. His spiky blond hair jutted from the base, his emblematic unshaven appearance seeming like peach-fuzz on a piece of fruit. Mud and coal streamed down his face, as if he were fresh from Misty Canyon Mines.

The unmistakable fragrance of Aqua Velva assailed her nostrils, filling her with fresh terror. The scent of the aftershave was mingled with dank and moldy earth and the stench of decay.

His presence petrified her, but it was the stare he directed her way that began the trembling in her body. He was too quiet, too still. It wasn't like him to be so immobile, unless there was a full-scale storm of anger and fisticuffs ahead.

"How can you be here?" she gasped. "You're dead!"

He threw back his head and laughed. It was the horrible, maniacal mirth she remembered during his most brutal moments. It triggered a deep hysteria within her, forcing her to scream and retreat. She pulled the covers over her head and continued to scream, squeezing her eyes tightly shut, feeling every nerve ending in her body as if they were on fire.

When she awoke again, sunlight flooded the room from the open windows. The only sounds were the birds chirping outside, and the gentle wisp of a breeze. She lay still, listening, trying to orientate herself.

She sat up in bed, a sense of relief coming over her. It was just a dream. She had nothing to worry about, nothing to fear. She swung her legs to the side of the bed, intent on rising to start her day.

Then she felt a strange sense of wet muck seeping between her toes. She closed her eyes, afraid to look down. What fresh hell was awaiting her now?

There was a fat streak of mud under her feet, the combination of two very large footprints. A faint sprinkle of black dust surrounded the prints, spread out on each side. Then she detected the faint stench of Aqua Velva, barely a wisp of scent but unmistakably present.

"Mud, coal dust and Aqua Velva," she said. "So it wasn't a dream after all. He was here, and he was laughing at me . . . or am I simply losing my mind?"

She stood up, her fear turning to anger. "I have absolutely nothing to feel remorseful about," she scolded herself. "If this insanity is coming about because of some deep-seated guilt over my joy at Aaron's death . . . well, it's just ridiculous. I did nothing during our marriage to warrant his violent and despicable treatment of me. I stayed and stayed and stayed, accepting his abuse for fear he might kill me. If anything, he should be burning in hell and I should be as free as a bird."

She moved to the bathroom, where she retrieved a towel to clean the mud on the floor. She would put the incident from her mind and carry on with her day.

"I won't let the bastard control me from the grave," she promised herself as she cleaned the bedroom floor. "Not now, not ever."

IT WAS NEAR lunchtime when she heard the doorbell ring. She had been mopping the kitchen floor, the finishing touch to her whirlwind of cleaning for the morning. Since Aaron's death she avoided such chores, but the activity kept her mind occupied.

When she opened the front door she was shocked to see none other than Maxie Daniels. The woman smiled at her, reaching out her hands.

"I took a chance you'd be home," she said. "I just got into town and wanted to see you."

Beth was stunned, but happy to see her former co-worker. Maxie was the last person she expected to see, yet her presence brought a surge of elated relief.

"What on earth brings you to Ivytown?" Beth was finally able to ask, taking the woman's hand.

Maxie's eyes clouded. "I'd been planning my two-week vacation with no more idea than to hang around my apartment in San Francisco, but when I heard about Aaron . . . I'm so very sorry, Beth."

Beth drew her into the house. "Please come in," she said quickly, shutting the door behind them. "Thank you for your sympathy, Maxie. It's been a rough few weeks. Did you just find out about the mine accident?"

Maxie nodded. "My aunt and uncle told me about it a few days ago," she admitted. "They didn't think to call me when the accident occurred, probably because Aaron and I weren't exactly close. I heard about it the roundabout way when I called to check in with them last Sunday."

"It was a tragic accident," Beth said, attempting to compel an echo of grief into her voice.

Maxie searched Beth's face momentarily, as if she were forming a comment. Then she seemed to change her mind.

"How long will you be in Ivytown?" Beth asked, letting the moment go.

"Two whole weeks," Maxie replied brightly. "When I heard about Aaron, I decided to come here to visit my aunt and uncle, and to check on you. We seemed to lose touch after you and Aaron were married, but I would love to catch up."

Beth blushed slightly, remembering her avoidance of Maxie - or anyone else from her past - following her wedding to Aaron. The beatings left her ashamed, unwilling and unable to stay close to people she already knew.

"We'll have to talk about that," Beth said softly. "Why don't we have some coffee?"

Ten minutes later, Beth and Maxie were seated in the kitchen, enjoying mugs of steaming hot coffee and buttered blueberry muffins.

"Are you still working at the ad agency?" Beth asked after she poured them a second cup of coffee.

Maxie's amber eyes lit up. "Yes, can you believe it? I've moved up to executive administrative assistant. My boss is the firm's new president, Morgan Bailey."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "Morgan is president of the firm now? When and how did that happen?"

"It sounds incredible, doesn't it? About a year ago the old boss was discovered embezzling funds and was fired. As you know, Morgan was Carl Gillis' executive assistant, learning all he could from the old man. Morgan was not interested in the less than legal business acumen of our former boss, but rather his ability to draw in clients and fix on a winning advertising strategy. The board of directors was so impressed by Morgan's abilities after they fired Gillis they decided to put him in place as president. Let me tell you, he hasn't let them down. Morgan has done a smashing job, and everyone loves him."

Beth shook her head with a smile. "But I just can't picture Morgan as the president of the company. Wasn't he awfully skinny, with pimples and thick glasses?"

Maxie laughed. "Indeed, but you should see him now. He wears contact lenses and works out at Gold's Gym on Market Street. To top it off, a dermatologist did wonders for his skin. You wouldn't recognize him today. In fact, he has become quite a ladies' man."

Beth joined her in laughter. "If you say so. I would never have guessed that outcome."

Maxie sipped her coffee. "Do you ever miss it?"

"What?"

"Working at the ad agency?"

Beth shrugged. "I did in the beginning, when I first moved to Ivytown. I felt so alone and isolated then. But after awhile I became used to the routine of a small town, and I suppose I forgot about work and my place in San Francisco."

"You can always come back."

"After a seven-year absence?" Beth was skeptical. "I doubt even Morgan Bailey is that accommodating. Besides, I'm not sure what I want to do right now."

"Do keep it in mind," Maxie urged her. "What is there to keep you in Ivytown now? Aaron's house? Surely you could sell it, move back to San Francisco or anywhere you like for that matter, and start a new life."

Beth recalled the terms of Aaron's will. "If only it was that simple," she said.

"It's as simple as you make it," Maxie insisted.

"Aaron made sure nothing was simple," Beth said bitterly before she could stop herself. She was aghast at her personal statement, not used to sharing her feelings with anyone.

Maxie was attentive, leaning forward over her mug of coffee. "Beth, please feel free to tell me what is bothering you. I noticed it the minute you answered the front door. Your nerves are strung as tight as a wire, which is understandable considering what you've been through the last few weeks. But I think there is something else on your mind, and I would like to help you if I can. Please trust me. Anything you say to me will never go further than this room."

Beth wasn't ready to fully confide in anyone. Seven years of fear and mistrust left her uncomfortable in revealing her thoughts, although she knew Maxie could be trusted. But she couldn't bring herself to do it - not yet. She smiled timidly. "I'm just maudlin, really. The last few weeks have been difficult, and I'm being overly sensitive. I hope you can understand."

Maxie stared at Beth for a moment, not believing the explanation but deciding to leave the matter alone for now.

"Can you stay for lunch?" Beth asked her, desperate to change the direction of their conversation. "Or perhaps you'd rather come back for dinner?"

"My aunt and uncle have plans for dinner tonight," Maxie told her as she finished her coffee. "We're going to the Pinecomb Inn for their famous chicken and dumplings. Would you care to join us?"

Beth demurred. "Not tonight, I'm afraid. I'm not up for dinners on the town yet."

Maxie nodded. "I fully understand. There's no pressure, Beth. You need to mourn and recover at your own pace."

"Can you stay for lunch then?" Beth pressed her, not wanting the woman to leave.

"I have to run some errands for my aunt," Maxie replied with regret. "I'd like to take a rain check, though. I can come back tomorrow with pizza and beer around one o'clock. How does that sound?"

Beth was instantly cheered. "That sounds wonderful. I'll look forward to it."

Maxie hugged her impulsively, feeling Beth's slight recoil at the contact. She stepped back to observe Beth closely, noticing the strain around her eyes. "You need to get some rest," Maxie said quietly. "I think a good sleep will help your outlook tremendously."

Beth agreed. "It's not as easy as it sounds, but it is getting better by the day."

"Good," Maxie said as she and Beth made their way back to the front door. "After lunch tomorrow, is it possible I might see Aaron's grave and pay my respects?"

Beth was appalled into silence by Maxie's casual request. The idea of visiting Aaron's sepulcher again filled her with trepidation, with a fear she could not identify. After her nightmare last night, she was vaguely reluctant to view the final resting spot of her husband, the irrationality of it annoying her. Not that he could jump out of the cold earth to attack her, considering his body wasn't even there, but the absurd notion kept her at bay nonetheless.

"I can point you in the right direction to the Mills family tomb," Beth murmured, refusing to meet Maxie's eyes. "It's only about twenty feet away from here, but I'm not ready to go back yet."

Maxie took Beth by the arm near the front door, her tone full of sympathy. "I understand, of course. Yes, I would like to visit the mausoleum and pay my final respects tomorrow."

"I appreciate your concern," Beth said lightly, although she truly wished the entire subject matter would simply go away. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

"I'll be here at one o'clock," Maxie assured her. "It's so wonderful to talk to you again, Beth. I'm looking forward to lunch so we can continue our conversation."

After Maxie left, Beth hurried back to the kitchen to tidy the coffee mugs and muffin crumbs. She was nervous and unsettled, the energy making her anxious to keep her hands busy. Talking to Maxie about Aaron spooked her more than she realized. She had no desire to visit his damnable tomb, knowing full well the sight of the crypt would set her trembling with fear and loathing.

She walked out onto the deck. She breathed in the fresh air, hoping to clear her mind. Unbidden, she allowed her eyes to wander to the cemetery, where the Mills family mausoleum was clearly visible across the narrow dirt road. Its gray stone exterior was somewhat worn by years of rain and snow, but the structure was impressive all the same. In a flash, she realized people would expect her to be interred with the Mills family someday by virtue of her status as Aaron's wife, but she decided to remedy the assumption the first chance she got.

Back in the house she telephoned Anthony Simonetti's office, speaking to his wife Meredith. "I'd like to make an appointment with your husband to draw my own will," she told her. "Is that possible within the next few days?"

"Of course, Mrs. Mills," Meredith responded with some surprise. "Anthony has an opening tomorrow morning around nine o'clock. Would that be convenient for you?"

"Yes, I'll be there," Beth said. "See you then."

She felt better already. Making sure she did not lie alongside the empty grave of Aaron Mills for all eternity was a good start, another effort on her part to distance herself from the bastard who once called himself her husband.