Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (26 page)

This man was useless. He would have to find another way to deal with Tim. He smiled at that thought. It had to be subtle though, Angela would not take it well otherwise. He had to win her back, she belonged to him, and so did that strange coin. Charles was beginning to sense a power within the object that could help him with his many goals. 

Nonchalantly, he exited the alley, looking calm and collected, unaffected by the violence he had just perpetrated. 

Chapter 21
Monday August 6
th
, 20

Monday August 6
th
, 2007

Rene found herself sitting in Dr. Shelby G. Turismo’s office with great trepidation. She knew she didn’t want to be here, but what choice did she have? If she had refused to come, Mr. Yates would have had her brought up on charges for attempted manslaughter. The truly scary thing was that for all she knew or could remember, the charge was probably true.

So why doesn’t he just file the charges? Is he nice after all? I don’t have a good feeling about the man at all. There’s something sinister about him, and the way he treated Jack, forcing him to cover up that ghost story ‘or else’. It seems like everything Mr. Yates does comes with an ‘or else’ attached to it, and this office visit is no exception. I didn’t think I would ever need to see a shrink. I have survived every other crisis in my life without one. Then again, maybe she can help me with my current short-term memory losses. I would love to get back to normal. Speaking of that, I have to go and see Jack and find out how our date ended, maybe that will shed some light on how the rest of the night unfolded.

Rene really wanted to call Jack, but deep down she was terrified that the evening had ended roughly and that he wouldn’t want to speak with her. If she didn’t call him, she could pretend that things weren’t so dire.

Squirming in her chair at the mere thought of it, she waited for the doctor to enter. The office was big and airy, with large windows and sparse furnishings. The openness of it gave the place an empty soulless aura.

“Good morning, Rene,” said an attractive dark-haired woman in a navy blue business suit, as she entered the room. “I am Dr. Shelby Turismo. Please call me Shelby. I find it is much more relaxing to keep things less formal.” She finished crossing the room, and extended her right hand in greeting.

Rene reached out and gave a halfhearted shake. Shelby’s hand was cool and soft. There was not the slightest tinge of warmth or humanity about it. “Good morning, Shelby, I’m Rene Landers, but you probably already know that.”

Surprisingly, instead of sitting behind her big desk Shelby sat in the paisley wing chair directly next to Rene. This spacing brought a much needed warmth to her persona. “So, my appointment book says you came here today to discuss some temporary memory lapses. Would you like to start with that, or just telling me a little something about yourself?”

Rene began nervously in a choppy voice. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t really want to come here today. I have been having these episodes where I can’t,” not finishing her sentence, she looked around the room, searching for a distraction. Noticing the fancy name plate on the desk that read ‘Shelby G. Turismo’, Rene shifted gears. “What does the ‘G’ stand for in your name?”

Noticing her new client’s unease, Shelby smiled patiently. “This time is not really about me; however, I’m sure it will give you a laugh. My dad was an avid car nut. He named me after his favorite model, the Shelby Grand Turismo. The nut not falling far from the tree, I now own one of those cars. How about you, Rene, what’s your middle name?”

Rene started to relax a little. Shelby wasn’t as stiff as she initially appeared. “My middle name is Melissa. My dad used to call me Missy all the time. I really liked that, it was so cute. I really miss him sometimes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, is he deceased?”

“No, he disappeared when I was about twelve years old. He has never been heard from or seen again.” A small tear welled up in her eye and slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry; I know we’re not here to talk about that old news.”

“We’re here to talk about whatever is going to make you feel better, Rene. So continue with that thought if you like.”

Rene found Shelby’s tone and mannerisms rather comforting. Here was somebody she could talk to without worrying about impressing them or being rejected. She began to feel that maybe this whole shrink thing wasn’t such a bad idea after all. “No, what I really want to talk about are these blackout periods I have been experiencing. I guess they started a little over three weeks ago, and they have been getting progressively worse since then.”

“What do you mean by worse?”

“Well at first I just would wake up and find muddy shoes or something out of place or just a little off. As these things have escalated, they have resulted in two car crashes and other odd happenings.” A deeply troubled look washed over Rene’s features.

“Tell me about the car crashes, or at least the part you can remember.”

“The first one, I was driving in my car and my head began hurting and then my vision just faded to black. The next thing I knew, I was being pulled from my smashed up car.” A small smile came to her lips. “Although, that’s how I met my current boyfriend. It was his car that I smashed into. He is so handsome and exciting. Except these episodes keep cropping up and ruining a good number of our dates.”

“Aside from smashing up his car, how have the episodes interfered with your dating, and what do you remember of them?”

“I don’t remember anything. All I ever find out is what people tell me later, or I piece together from what’s left lying around. The first dating episode I had with Jack, I remember making out and having a great time, and that’s all. He claimed the next day that I became angry almost instantly and threw him out. When I woke up the following morning, I had a splitting headache like I had been drinking all night.”

Shelby interjected, “Had you?  That would explain the memory loss.”

“No, the only alcohol I remember drinking was a margarita with dinner, and a glass of wine at my apartment. Stranger yet, I found a glass of straight brandy sitting on the floor in the morning. I don’t even keep hard liquor at home. When I went to get my phone, I found my car keys weren’t in my purse, but somehow I knew they would be in the spare bedroom, and there was a peculiar smell. Almost like smoke, except I don’t smoke.” Forcing herself to smile and sound a little more chipper, Rene asked, “So what do you think about that, doctor?”

“Please, call me Shelby, remember? It is certainly a very interesting story, and I’m guessing similar stories have played out for you lately.”

“Yes, with more and more frequency.”

“Is there a common theme to them? Are you doing the same activities, is it the same time of day, or the same location?”

Answering without stopping to think, Rene blurted out, “Not really, it is always somewhat different.”

Her tone sounding a little cross, Shelby pressed further, “Really, nothing at all seems to tie these episodes together? I want you to think about the question a little more before answering this time.” She fixed a stern gaze upon Rene.

Rene didn’t like her new tone, it almost sounded accusatory, as if implying the episodes were Rene’s fault somehow. She sat there quietly for a minute stewing, pretending that she was taking more time to think about her answer.

Shelby waited patiently for a response. Realizing she had been too harsh, Shelby relaxed her expression and quickly shifted her demeanor. Getting up, she walked slowly around her desk, and opened one of the drawers. “Rene, I am going to give you a notebook and a pen. I would like you to keep them in your purse at all times. If something strikes you or you feel an episode coming on, write down everything about the situation, every last detail.”

Rene reached out and took the notebook. It was small, with a smooth-shiny cover emblazoned with rainbow stripes. The tablet made her think of the journal Sam had found recently. Something about that journal was just on the edge of her mind.

“Rene, are you all right?”

Realizing she had gone silent, Rene was about to reply when it hit her. The journal, it had been at Jack’s the other night.
Wait a minute, that’s impossible. Jack has never had the journal. I can remember him reading from it, sort of. I must have just imagined that, it doesn’t feel like it really happened.
Suddenly, she felt a cool hand on her shoulder.

“Rene, what are you thinking? Are you starting an episode?” Shelby’s voice made the memory fade almost as completely and as quickly as it came.

“I’m sorry, something about the notebook you gave me triggered a memory or a dream. It disappeared when you started speaking to me. I just remember that it involved a journal from the bank building, a journal that Sam took from there.”

“Where is this journal now, perhaps it can help us figure out your situation?”

“I don’t know. I asked Sam to get rid of it along with a painting that came from the building.”

“Rene, I would like you to talk with Sam this week and see if you can get the journal. I’ll schedule you an appointment for Thursday. I would like you to bring the journal and your notebook with you.”

Rene hesitated, thoughts racing through her mind. Beginning to speak very slowly, she nodded her head, “I think you’re right, there’s definitely something to this.”

“Great, I’ll see you Thursday then, and make sure to do your homework,” she added with a chuckle.

Rene got up and left the room, still straining to remember more about the journal.

*    *    *

Jack was just sitting down to lunch at a small outdoor table when his phone rang. The caller id indicated it was Rene calling.
Yeah, right, like I’m going to pick up a call from you. I don’t know how she can be Miss Wonderful one minute and then turn into such a little bitch the next. I really should move on from her. It’s like she is two different people sometimes.
He hit the silence button and the phone stopped ringing.

“May I take your order, sir?” said a cute little waitress with a big chest, squeezed into a tight-fitting white shirt.

“You certainly can, I would like a roast beef sandwich on Italian bread with everything. Could you also throw on some black olives?” he asked, beaming her a big white-toothed smile.

“Sure can, no problem, and what to drink?”

“I’ll have a Diet Coke to go with that.”

She smiled and headed off to get his order.

He watched her, enjoying the view, as she disappeared back into the establishment.
I sure would like to get back to work on the bank building project. This new filler assignment is small and not that interesting. Besides, I miss working with Sam and hanging out for lunch. It was just like the old days again there for a while.

His phone started to ring once more, and again seeing the same calling number, he pressed the mute button. The call pushed his thoughts back in the direction of Rene.
Something about that journal sure seemed to upset her.
He pulled the journal out of his inside coat pocket, and looked at its unassuming cover again. Jack took his thumb and casually flipped through the pages, as if some answer might jump out at him. As he flew by the page he had read last night, his thoughts returned to the name Lefty Weston. Maybe he should try looking up his old uncle. At the back of the journal the pages were all blank. The owner had obviously given up writing in it. Just as he was about to snap it shut, a couple pages before reaching the back cover, he discovered more writing. Stopping, he stared at the characters intently. The page was filled with a series of letters and numbers.

H1A5 W2M28 A2A0M1

They didn’t seem to make any sense. They did, however, appear to be spaced out in a way that represented words if you knew some code.
This last part must be encrypted. This is turning it out be just like the movies.
Before he could finish that thought, a cold sensation splashed over him. He looked up, startled, to find the waitress had just spilled the diet coke he ordered all over the front of his shirt, with some of it splashing onto the open journal page.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. The cup was slippery and I just lost it.”

Grunting, Jack grabbed a napkin, looking horrified and dabbed at the journal page carefully. “I need more napkins quickly,” he said, sounding rather cross.

The waitress hustled over to the next table and quickly pried a bunch from the box, beginning to wipe Jack’s shirt. “I’ve never spilled on a customer before. I hope I didn’t wreck your book.”

Calming down, Jack looked up from his cleanup process. “It should be fine and so will I. Accidents happen, but don’t expect a good tip,” he said grinning.

“Your lunch is on me,” she replied, “including dessert.”

“No, you mean it is on me.” They both laughed for a minute.

“I’ll get you a new soda, and one of our homemade chocolate chip cookies to go with your sandwich.”

The page, which had gotten only a little wet, had pretty much dried as Jack closed the journal and put it back in his pocket.
It seems like everything to do with that building is bad luck. I never had a waitress spill on me before.

Jack ate the rest of his lunch silently, his mind whipping through a jumble of thoughts, everything from the journal to Rene to work, and so on. After eating the last couple bites of the cookie, he found the waitress had written her name and number on the napkin, along with a cute little note. She is pretty hot, he thought, folding up the napkin and slipping it into his pocket. Glancing at his watch as he walked away from the restaurant, he realized that he had about thirty minutes left for lunch.
I wonder if that geeky Liam guy at the antique store could make heads or tails out of this code. The place is close enough; why not give it a shot?