....But nothing came out.  He pulled the trigger a fourth time, a fifth.  “What in the…?”
     “I told you.  It won’t work.” She flicked her blond hair out of her face.  “John, hunny?  Did it ever occur to you why the woman of a mystery author never found out about the little red head secretary?” she asked, walking closer to see him better through the darkened light.
     “But you did.  That’s why you have to die!” John sneered, pushing his short, blond hair back into place.  The hair on his neck began to stand on end, and he shivered from the dew now clinging to him.
     “Do I?” Lucy pushed her glasses back onto her face and glared though them with her bright, shining, green eyes.  “Kill me, and you’ll never meet up with Lucille ever again…” she warned, placing her hands on her knees.
     “Oh, I will.  I’ll marry her too, if I can just kill you.” He laughed tauntingly, swinging his gun.  “No one will suspect a thing; not even your father.”
     “But he will,” Lucy grinned, adjusting her jacket back down to her petit waist.  “Seeing how I asked him to be here with me when we get back.”
John snorted, starting to walk up to the woman.  “What did you…how did you find out?”
     “It was simple, John.” She chuckled, “you have always been too easy to read.  Your books reflect your personality and thoughts.” Tilting her head, she sighed lightly.  “I’ll explain it in a way you’d understand, John.”
     “Start talk’n.” He grumbled, leaning up against a tree, still close to the shaft.
     “I’ll start by ending your story and then I’ll begin my own.” She outstretched her thin arms.  “The man went to go see his other lover, only to end up on a familiar doorstep.  As the door opened, he gaped in horror to see a previous wife’s elderly mother and father glaring back at him.”
     “But that’s impossible!” John shouted in disbelief.
     “The man stepped back and read the number on the house.  The address Lucille gave him was indeed the address of the parents of the wife he killed before childbirth.  The police seized the man, at the command of the father whom had a tip from Lucille that he was that man who killed his daughter and grandchildren.”
John stepped backwards, and had his back thud up against the tree again.  “It’s not true.”
     “I’ll tell you how it is.” Lucy sat down on a nearby rock, too comfortable for John’s liking.  “’Lucille’ was suspicious of her marriage.  Her husband was always late from coming home from the office, and she knew there was a new, young secretary.” Lucy tilted her head again.  “She was worried, because she told her husband that she wanted to wait a little while before having kids.”
     “But what if the husband never did or had anything to do with that secretary?” John wrung his hands anxiously.
     “Oh, but he did.  Lucille found the right paperwork, forged a signature, and got her fired right away.  She then bought a wig, bought some revealing clothes she never let him find, and want though a transformation to become a secretary.  The husband flirted, obviously impressed with the newer, virgin secretary.  She flirted back, but always reminded him that she did not want to go too far since he had a wife.”
     “I told her I would have divorced the woman…” John sighed at his mistake.
     “Anyway,” she sighed patiently, “Lucille had to disappear a bit so she could spend time with her husband; so he wouldn’t become suspicious of her.” Kicking a small rock, Lucy sighed and unzipped her jacket at the neck slightly.  “Her husband had been trying to write a story, and invited her to accompany him in doing some area research, as he always did.”
     “Why did she agree?” John suddenly piped up, becoming aware that he had more eyes on him than just Lucy’s.  “She could have said no.”
     “But she wanted him to pay; she wanted revenge.” Lucy folded her arms.  “Lucille’s mother was killed.  She was a gypsy medium.  Her stepmother was a lawyer.  Having being brought up as such, she decided to help all those that one man had hurt so much.”
     “What do you mean by that?”
     “Lucille could see things that others couldn’t, because of her first mother.” Lucy brought up a hand and touched a leaf hanging overhead.
     John could no longer see Lucy from his spot at the tree.  He shivered with the cold now creeping under his collar.  Looking back up at where Lucy was, he could now see her green eyes almost glowing in the moonlight.
     “She asked the local police where she lived to keep an eye on him when they came back from their trip.  She told them he was suicidal from a depression of a book not selling well, and that he wasn’t taking his medicine.  Lucille told him she was taking him somewhere he could relax at, and left it at that.”
     “But he wasn’t in a depression!” John stomped one of his feet.
     “But they didn’t know that.  After, Lucille had found his gun in his pack during her own packing to go on the trip, and removed the bullets before finishing packing up her things.  She knew his plan, she had heard about it many times before from her mother.”
     “How did she talk to her mother…?” John folded his arms, confused.
     “Her ghost.  And just like her, there are others who wish to take revenge on you.  You pushed many woman into the mineshaft.” Lucy suddenly pulled off her blond wig, showing short, strawberry blond hair underneath.  “You killed my mother, my brother, and myself when you shot her and pushed her off the edge.  My name is Lucille.  My mother was Lucy, the woman you killed before childbirth!” ‘Lucille’ threw her arms up in the air.
     Almost instantly, screams of women bubbled up from the mineshaft; maybe 20 or 30 different screams.  One by one, specters of different ages and nationalities of women flew out, grabbing at John and pulling on his clothes.  Soon they turned and started to paw at him; some screaming profanity at him, while others attempted to entice him.
     “N-no!  Get away from me, freaks!” John’s voice cut off short suddenly, after feeling the cold hands reaching into his chest.  Slowly he stopped struggling, and fell limp on the ground.  Occasionally he twitched, but he was definitely dead.
     The screaming soon ceased, and the mist that had formed when the apparitions came along had cleared up as well.  Lucille smiled at her work, pleased that she was able to help so many women.
     “Are you ready to go, Lucille?” a young man about the same age as her, walked up to her.  He pushed his long, redder hair out of his face, revealing deep green eyes.  “Mother is happy that he’s now paid his price.  He never knew that we would come back to get him, huh?”
     “Good work playing the part of Mother when I couldn’t.  ‘Good thing we look alike, huh?”
     “Come.  Mother is waiting for our return.” The man pulled off his shirt, and outstretched a pair of wings from his back.  Walking over to her, he picked her up and cradled her in his arms.  “Time to go home.” He ran forward, jumped, and flew into the sky.