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A collection of art, photos, short stories, sketches, a serialized mystery novel and other things from Abigail, John, Maureen and Jesse Pesta, updated as often as we remember to. Welcome!
TAJ MAHAL
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 22: A Rude Awakening
by John Pesta
This is the 22nd chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
At first I thought somebody was rubbing my back. Then the house started shaking. The walls began coming apart. We were having an earthquake. . . . No, I’m still asleep. I must be dreaming. . . .
“Come on, Phil, look alive.”
My eyes popped open. The lights were on. I rolled away from the hand on my back and saw Chuck Martin looming over my bed. I almost swallowed my tongue.
“Hello, Phil,” he said.
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 21: Memory Care
by John Pesta
This is the 21st chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
The only persons I still wanted to talk to about the Garth murders were Esther and Judy Dubbs. Since learning from Judy that her mother-in-law, Esther, had Alzheimer’s, I’d had little hope of learning anything from her, but since my descent into the cellar of the house where Esther once had lived, my hope had revived. Maybe her brain still worked well enough for her to tell me if the house had another small cellar and, if so, how to find it. I felt as if I were in a Hardy Boys mystery, searching for a secret room.
The Twin Lakes Health Center, where I was to meet the two women after lunch today, was located on U.S. 50 about a half mile west of Campbellsville. The long wings of the one-story brick building were surrounded by acres of manicured lawn with winding paths and flower gardens. The only shortcoming was that the so-called lakes were more like ponds and were nearly dry.
PEGGY'S ORCHARD
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
PAPER HORSE
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 20: Face to Face with the Devil
by John Pesta
This is the 20th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
When I woke up the next day, I felt like an old man with arthritis. I lay in bed in the late-morning heat and waited for my muscles to feel like moving again. I eased myself off the bed and went to the bathroom.
I was afraid to look in the mirror, and when I did I saw a purplish cheek laced with long, thin, scabby lines with whiskers poking through them. I decided to grow a beard until the wound healed. It might make me look more like a professor for my journalism class, which I just remembered I had to teach tonight. One good thing, the lump on my head felt smaller.
SCHOOLROOM FLOOR
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 19: Fog
by John Pesta
This is the 19th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
Coming to was like rising to the surface of a sea clogged with gauze. I had a splitting headache. I could hardly move. For a minute or two I wasn’t sure where I was, or what had happened. Then I realized I was lying twisted on the floor at the bottom of the steps. One of my legs was still on the steps, bent backward and tingling as if it had fallen asleep. Every other part of me felt stiff and sore. One side of my face burned. It felt wet, a little muddy.
I dragged my bent leg off the steps and rolled onto my back. The leg tingled so much it hurt. A blurry light bulb burned directly overhead. Dazed, slightly dizzy, I stared at it for a while, wishing the fuzziness would go away. How long was I lying here? What time was it? My heart pounded. I remembered taking a nosedive down the steps. . . . Someone had tripped me.
I was tired. . . . My eyes started to close. . . .
WELCOME
by Jesse Pesta
FULL MOON
by Jesse Pesta
DAYDREAM
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 18: From Attic to Cellar
by John Pesta
This is the 18th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
I left the Brandon house a few minutes later, after Scott and I had finished our pie. Scott showed how much he enjoyed the pie by rocking faster and faster as he ate, constantly chanting, “Un . . . un . . . un . . . un,” a mantra of the misbegotten.
By the time I reached Blind Horse Hollow, the hills at the western end were already casting long shadows across the corn and soybean fields, while the hills at the other end gleamed in the golden sunset.
I felt guilty for spending so much time with Lillian. I still had a job to do. I stepped on the gas, but as soon as the driveway to the Garth house appeared, I saw that the roadblock had been moved and I slammed on the brakes. The pair of sawhorses still blocked the entrance, but now they formed a wide-angle V instead of a straight line.
Someone had gone in there during the past hour or two. Probably that someone had also left, but he could still be there. On the principle that it was wiser to waste a little time checking out a possibility rather than save time and regret not checking, I stopped and dragged one of the sawhorses off to the side and drove in.
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 17: Us Brandons Stick Together
by John Pesta
This is the 17th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
The afternoon was half gone by the time I got back to the office. Several notes lay pinned under my keyboard, but none involved the Garth case, which meant none of them was from Lieutenant Bakery. There was one more thing I wanted to do before getting into my regular work. I called Judge Brandon’s house.
Lillian Brandon answered the phone.
I asked her when the judge would be home from Asia.
“Friday evening,” she said. “I’m meeting them at the airport in Indianapolis.”
“Do you think I could see him Saturday? There’s something I’d like to ask him about.” I wanted to do what Grace DeLong had said I should.
SOMETHING MADE ME STOP
A short story by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
“Hi, Margaret. Laurie Stanton Carter added you as a friend on Facebook. We need to confirm that you know Laurie in order for you to be friends on Facebook. Thanks, the Facebook Team.”
Laurie? Laurie of 60 years ago?
Once upon a time you met, played Wild West cowboys in your backyard, and went your separate ways. Today that little girl gallops out of the past, all grown up and scaring me again.
GAS METER ANGEL
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 16: How Far They Can Go
by John Pesta
This is the 16th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
I was walking to work the next morning when a police car pulled up to the curb beside me on the wrong side of the street. Officer Steve Garret of the city police department stuck his head out the window and said, “Hey, Phil, you won’t have to walk anymore. We found your car.”
“Great!” I said. “Where was it?”
“The Frankenmuth Funeral Home. It’s at the county jail now, being processed. They’ll call you when they’re done with it. I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks, Steve. Were you the one who found it?”
“No. The funeral home reported it yesterday afternoon. They said it was left there sometime Saturday.” His radio crackled, and he stopped to listen. Then he said, “I’d give you a lift, Phil, but I gotta go. Another fender-bender.” He turned on his flashers and sped away.
The plan was working. All I had to do now was wait for a call from the sheriff’s department.
STARVED HOLLER LAKE
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 15: The Blue Ghetto
by John Pesta
This is the 15th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
Next morning I went to Mackey’s for an earlier-than-usual breakfast and then to my office. The plan was to spend two or three hours tracking down six former residents of the Good Shepherd Home for the Innocents. They were Candy Apple, the girl whom Paula had identified, and the five kids in the photo that I had found on microfilm.
When the photo had been taken in 1996, the five children ranged in age from eight to thirteen. That was fourteen years ago, so now all of them were adults. Pictured, from left, were Judith Ann Shult, 12; Rickie Davidson, 8; Gary Fromm, 9; Lisa Noe, 12; and Troy Stinson, 13.
I started with the Campbellsville phone book. It listed two parties named Apple, four named Shult, around fifty named Davidson, none named Fromm, two named Noe, and six named Stinson. Of course, the girls could be using married names now, and all six of these former residents of the Good Shepherd Home may have moved as far away from that place as they could get. Or they may have died.
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 14: Cranking for Clues
by John Pesta
This is the 14th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
I woke to the sound of rain beating on the roof and jangling like a cowbell in the downspout. I lay in bed listening to gurgles and plops. It was Sunday. I didn’t have to be at work till 3:30. Pale sunlight filtered through my crummy windows. There was a flicker of lightning, followed by the slow rumble of thunder.
I thought of my car waiting to be found in the parking lot of the Frankenmuth Funeral Home. Had Edna Mae remembered to take the key with her? If not, my ass was fried. I could drive over there and see. It wasn’t even seven yet. No one would be there at this hour. Forget it—the Campbellsville Police Department had four patrol cars cruising the streets all night long. “Oh, good morning, Officer, I was on my way to buy some Krispy Kreme doughnuts, and I just happened to see my car here.”
DAY CARE, PHNOM PENH
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 13: Return Trip
by John Pesta
This is the 13th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
The only sound in the room came from the air conditioner. Paula was breathing hard, but I could not hear her. It was like watching TV with the sound off. Still sitting on the arm of the recliner, Edna Mae squeezed Paula’s shoulder and pressed her cheek against her head. Paula stared fiercely at the floor.
“You went through hell, Paula,” I said.
“No shit,” she snapped at me.
HARBOR STORM
by Jesse Pesta
THIRD WINDOW
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 12: Dark Hallway
by John Pesta
This is the 12th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
I was in the bathroom shaving when the old land-line phone on my desk rang. I kept it so that tipsters and cranks could find my number in the book. When I answered, a soft, uncertain voice said, “Phil, it’s me.”
Oh my God, was I dreaming or what? “Paula,” I said, “is that you?”
“Uh-huh.”
I turned off the radio. “Where are you?”
“In case you don’t know already, I’m the one that took your car.” Her voice went from low to lower. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t’ve done it. I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can.”
OTHER
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 11: The Ex Factor
by John Pesta
This is the 11th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
After Grapevine dropped me off at the paper, the first thing I did was go to the county recorder’s office in the courthouse. There I learned that a deed to the house where the Garths had lived had been recorded in Walter Boofey’s name in June 2001. I was disappointed that he had not bought it a few years earlier. It might have connected him to the 1999 marijuana harvest that Sheriff Martin had told me about.
Next I checked in with my boss and told him about my latest adventure.
Edward roared with laughter. “So the floozie stole your car.” The whole newsroom could hear him.
“I didn’t say that, Ed. I didn’t see her.”
“Right. And it’s only 99.99 percent likely that she did it.” He roared again.
“Is it all right if I use a company car for a few days?” I said.
“Sure, go ahead. Just try not to get it stolen.”
ZAP
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 10: Cellular Hell
by John Pesta
This is the 10th chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
I started running after the car, but I gave up after three or four steps. I heard a loud thump thump thump thump thump. I thought it was a helicopter directly overhead, but it was the blood pounding in my ears. Dust rose above the cornfield as the car banged and rattled on the gravel lane. I felt naked and alone. I was drenched in sweat.
I heard the car careen onto the county road and take off toward Brickton.
My brain seemed to be working in slow motion. I had to call the police, but I knew my phone wouldn’t work in the hollow. I tried anyway. I watched my index finger key in the Sheriff’s Department number even though there was no signal. God, you’d think by now somebody would have stuck a tower on top of the knobs. I began running again, this time toward Glenn Neidig’s place. Why hadn’t I done this already? I would have been halfway there by now. I stopped running. Did I really want to tell the world that Paula had burned me again? I felt like an idiot. And I could not swear it was Paula who had taken the car. Come on, who else would have taken it? But how could she drive with her leg in a cast? How could she even get behind the wheel? The car had automatic transmission, so maybe she could drive it. Maybe she had taken the cast off.
PLEASE
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 9: Car Trouble
by John Pesta
This is the ninth chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
Boofey
Harrodsburg, KY
I typed that into whitepages.com and discovered no one named Boofey was listed in the Harrodsburg phone book.
Naturally.
Nothing is easy.
I forced myself to write up the rest of the sports stuff that Marcie, the new reporter, had given me. I could see she was hoping I’d ask for more, but I had other things to do. It took me until three o’clock to clear my desk. Then I tried to call Esther Dubbs.
BONGO
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 8: Blind Horse Hollow
by John Pesta
This is the eighth chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
The next morning I had a call from the sheriff: “Hey, Phil, we’re still waiting on those fingerprints.”
I went right over to see him.
The jail was a modern new building that looked more like a small prison. In fact, the county made some money by housing inmates from the overcrowded state-prison system. The new structure was an irregular series of modules made of textured concrete block. It was designed so that additional modules could be attached in any direction. Although it looked like a giant set of building blocks, it had some good points. For one, the small neon sign from the old jail still adorned the entrance. It said Meridian County Jail in bright-red letters. For another, no one had escaped from the new facility since it had opened for business five years ago.
“Glad you could make it, Phil,” the sheriff said when I showed up at his office.
“I’m sorry, Sheriff. It slipped my mind.”
BARRED WINDOW
by Jesse Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 7: Just Playing
by John Pesta
This is the seventh chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
I was about a mile from Brickton on an undulating stretch of road through the White River bottoms when a car came flying toward me. It was a red Miata with the top down, and it was doing at least seventy. Just before it reached me I saw Jodie Palladino behind the wheel. I gave her a little wave, but she did not wave back. Had she pretended not to see me? My gut said yes, and I trusted my gut. I’d had only a glimpse of her as she shot by, but her fixed stare and anxious expression told me something had to be wrong.
Another murder? Why not? Anything was possible.
I turned around and went after her. I knew I couldn’t catch her, but I took a chance that she would stop somewhere along this road. Maybe she was only going home, but if not, then at least I’d get to see what lay beyond Glenn Neidig’s cabin.
TRAVEL DIARY OF FOODS
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 6: Cloudy Window
by John Pesta
This is the sixth chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
My next stop was the Garth house. A brown-and-tan police cruiser blocked the entrance to the driveway, and when I stopped in the road, a sheriff’s deputy got out. I told him the sheriff had said Lieutenant Bakery wanted to see me.
“You can’t drive in,” he said, “but you can walk.”
He returned to his car and backed up a few yards so I could park in front of him. Then he got on his walkie-talkie and reported that I was coming.
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 5: Snooping Around
by John Pesta
This is the fifth chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
As soon as I got back to my office I called the sheriff. I learned that the county coroner, Henry Weir, had seen the bodies last night but was deferring to the state police and had not done a complete examination. “The cause of death is pretty obvious, though,” Sheriff Eggemann said. “Both victims had multiple gunshot wounds. The coronor did not want to move the bodies, so at this time we can’t tell you how many times they were shot, or where they were shot, but he did say each of them was shot at least once in the back of the head. The condition of the bodies makes it hard to say for sure. They’ll probably do an autopsy at the state police lab.”
“Would you say they were executed, Sheriff?” I asked.
“No, I would not. In fact, at this point I would rather not say anything at all.”
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 4: Mackey’s Grill
by John Pesta
This is the fourth chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
By the time I got to bed that night my eyes were so sore I felt as if someone had scrubbed them with sandpaper. My head felt like a squashed grape. As tired as I was, I had trouble falling asleep. Over and over, my evening with Paula replayed itself in my mind. I’d begin to drop off and something else would pop up in my mind’s eye—the bodies in the bathroom with their crawling green and black flesh . . . Paula tottering along on the side of the road . . . Grapevine and Jodie watching me from their porch. . . . I never did seem to fall asleep, yet the alarm clock, my safety valve, startled me when it went off at eight-thirty, an hour and a half later than I usually got up. I showered and shaved, had some coffee and toast, and went to work.
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 3: Call It Fate
by John Pesta
This is the third chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
We crossed the lawn in the glare of the headlights and the throb of the idling engine. Lightning flickered in the clouds like a fluorescent lamp trying to start, and thunder rumbled through the knobs. Fresh air never tasted so good. In the house I had felt as if I were breathing particles of rotten flesh, but now the cool breeze that rustled through the trees seemed to be cleaning out my lungs.
I opened the car door for Paula.
“What are we going to do now?” she said, twisting herself into the seat.
“We’ve got to call this in to the police.”
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 2: Smell of Death
by John Pesta
This is the second chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
“Peee-uuuu,” Paula said with a cringe and a shiver, “what died in here?”
The rotten smell filled my nose and mouth and seared my eyes. I tried to blow the dirty air out of my mouth before it reached my throat and lungs. I felt as if worms were already inside me.
Paula raised her top over the tip of her nose, exposing her midriff. “I’m going to open the windows,” she said. “Leave the front door open too, okay?”
She staggered into the living room, which lay to the right of a wide stairway that led to the second floor. I followed her to the tall windows. The high-ceilinged room contained only a few pieces of furniture, none of which seemed to belong in the old house. In one corner was an L-shaped black sofa with overstuffed seats and back pillows. A reclining chair with cup holders was parked too close to a giant flat-screen TV. A poster of the Grateful Dead hung above the fireplace, and a shaggy muddy green rug covered about a third of the floor, where several empty beer bottles lay amid sections of the Campbellsville Gleaner, my employer.
I got one of the windows open and poked my nose against the screen to grab a breath of clean air. Just to be saying something, I said, “Sometimes in these old houses rats and mice die in the walls.”
AUGUST MORNING
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
SAFELY BURIED Chapter 1: A Woman in a Cast
by John Pesta
This is the first chapter of the serialized mystery novel "Safely Buried." New installments appear every Sunday. To see all chapters in sequence, click here.
It was ten at night. I had just come off I-65, and my high beams lit her up from behind. She was walking along the road between dark, endless cornfields, and her right leg was in a cast. She wore denim shorts and a yellow tank top that didn’t quite reach the shorts. Without crutches, she moved as fast as she could on the gravelly shoulder. She would take a long step with her good leg, stiffly swing the cast forward the same distance, and immediately start the next step. Tilting jerkily, she looked as if she would fall with every stride. I crossed the centerline to give her more room to fall. Just as I was about to pass her, she glanced over her shoulder and stuck out a thumb.
I thought her car must have broken down back up the road. But if that was the problem, why hadn’t she stayed there instead of striking out for Campbellsville, eight miles away? I was tempted to keep on going—I didn’t make a habit of picking up hitchhikers. But there she was, nearly helpless. How could I leave her out here in the middle of nowhere?
CITY GIRL
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
READING MATTER
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
MASKED MAN
by Jesse Pesta
CONDENSED LIFE HISTORIES
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
WAIT
by Maureen O'Hara Pesta
APOSTOLOS THE LANDLORD
by Abigail Pesta
Another day, another charming letter from my landlord.
"I noticed that you have flowerpots on the windowsills -- make sure you don't leave rings of dirt behind," this one read.
The little notes were arriving with increased frequency, ever since I told him I'd need to break the lease. I had a good enough reason: I was being transferred to Hong Kong by my employer; my time in London was up. To soften the blow, I'd even found him a brand-new tenant for the apartment, so he wouldn't lose a single cent of rent.
Still, he couldn't quite wrap his brain around it. He thought I was getting away with something.
WHAT WOULD BUDDHA DO
by Abigail Pesta
Can there be a more enlightened way to start the new year than by going to a Buddhist brunch?
My friend Cecile invited me to one on New Year's Day, and I said yes right away. It sounded like the perfect chance to regain some dignity after a night of drinking, lunacy and self-reproach. Plus there would be finger food.
I didn't know what exactly to expect at Cecile's party. But one thing's for sure: A Buddhist brunch raises the stakes on the hostess gift. Lots of opportunities for bad karma.
THE MYSTERY OF THE HAT
by Abigail Pesta
I met Emma at the corner of Sixth Avenue and Houston, and we sat for a few minutes on a bench outside the deserted basketball court. It felt like the coldest day of the year. The black city sludge in the gutter was frozen rock solid. Overhead, the branches of a tree -- hopelessly tangled with plastic bags -- were whipped by the bitter wind.
But none of this mattered to Emma, because she was in love and wanted to spend the afternoon telling me about it.
She looked radiant and pixie-like, wearing a striped knit cap with a fuzzy ball swinging on the end of a piece of yarn. "I am so in love!" she declared.
I, on the other hand, had spent the morning composing angry mental letters to an old boyfriend. Perhaps it made me a less-than-ideal sounding board for Emma. But here we were.