The Skinwalker Conspiracies - 02 (5 page)

“Most of the customers are already dead. Makes paying the bills difficult. Even when I help someone out, people still look at me like I belong in a nuthouse.”

The man guffawed. Hank was a thin and wiry man, with black hair just starting to collect a bit of grey in it. He was going for the picture of a “southern gentleman” look. I was sure, if he smelled blood in the water, Hank’s pleasant demeanor would disappear in an instant.

“So, what happens next, sir?”

“We’ll take your sworn statement and use it at the arraignment tomorrow morning, but first I was hoping for a little demonstration.”

“Unfortunately, there aren’t any ghosts here right now,” I answered. Amos was still tracking down a few odds and ends from the crowd of spirits that had been harassing me all weekend and Hector was with his kid.

“Fair enough, but I reckon I know where we can go find us one. You game, Mike?”

“Sure.”

“Well then, let’s get to it!” He toggled the intercom and said, “Janey, Mister Ross and I are taking a ride out to the old Compton place, and we’re going to meet up with Gae. I expect to be back after lunchtime. Be a dear and reschedule my eleven o’clock.”

I walked out of the building with him. “Do you want me to follow you? My car’s over at the hotel.”

“No,” he answered, pointing to his four wheel drive, full-size truck. “Where we’re heading, the road’s a bit rough.”

“Where’s that?” I was starting to feel a bit uncomfortable.

“Wife’s into real estate and got this one property she picked up in at auction a few years ago. Place’s changed hands all kinds of times since it first went on the market, but it’s sitting on about twelve of the prettiest acres you’d ever see down this way.”

“I’m guessing it’s haunted.”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling my wife. Gae thinks she could sell the land off to a developer or even remodel the house into one of those Bed and Breakfast places. So, you ever meet those plumber fellows on the TV?”

I knew who he was talking about. They liked doing this and had also figured out how to make a few dollars along the way. I was pretty much the exact opposite on both counts. “No, can’t say that I have.”

“Oh well, I figured I’d ask. Gae loves that show. She’s even sent them an email to see if they’d consider coming down here. I’m sure she’ll be asking you at some point.”

“So, what should I be looking for when we get there?”

“Don’t you psychic types say you don’t want to know and that you’ll figure it out for yourself?”

“No, I’m more of the ‘go ahead and tell me what I’m getting myself into’ type.”

“Well, it kind of goes like this…”

“Water! Water!”
I heard the faint moan. Every few minutes it would repeat. The old steps creaked under my weight as I carefully went upstairs. Hank, Gae, and I had been standing in the holed-out shell of the kitchen when I first noticed the sound over the constant stream of questions the lady had. I’d followed it all through the first floor before tackling the rickety staircase. Thankfully, Gae took one look at the steps and decided to wait downstairs.

My personal opinion was that Mrs. Olsen’s best bet would be to flatten the place and subdivide the land into individually marketable parcels of land. Refurbishing this place would require a lot of time and a considerable amount of money.

I found a sad-looking ghost of a man in a wheelchair in one of the upstairs bedrooms. He was very old and his voice had a hoarse quality to it. Sunken eyes and loose flesh hanging from the neck greeted me as he turned to stare.

“Water! Water!”

“Isaiah Nixon, I presume,” I said.

The ghost’s semi-vacant stare sharpened and he said,
“You can see me?”

“Sure enough.”

“Can you get me some water?”
His request tied into the story Hank told me on the way to this house. Nixon was an old man who’d been confined to a chair because of a car accident. His equally old wife, Eunice, took care of him, but snapped one day, killed him, and dumped his body into the well outside. Next day, she called and had a new one dug.  Since they were a reclusive pair, the wife got away with her crime. That is until some relatives came to take care of her during an illness, and discovered no trace of her husband. Fortunately, depending on how you looked at the situation, Eunice didn’t live long enough to go on trial.

“Is that all you want?”

“More than life itself, young man.”

“You do realize you’re a ghost? You could get right out of that chair, if you want to.”

“Take a closer look, sonny boy,”
he replied.

Upon closer inspection, there were phantom pieces of rope lashing his hands to the arms of his chair. His ankles were the same way.

Frowning, I said, “Let me see if I can get you out of those.”

“She ain’t gonna like that.”

“Your wife’s still around?” I look over my shoulder while loosening the first knot.

Isaiah’s laugh was one part insane cackle and the other a phlegm-laden cough.
“I was kind of hoping for the old death-do-us-part thing, but I was sadly mistaken.”

“Where is she?” I’d deal with “granny” if and when she showed up. Hopefully, it wouldn’t get violent. He certainly didn’t sound sane and it was a good bet his wife didn’t have her oars in the water either.

“She usually takes a walk this time of the day, but may be on the way back if she done heard the cars coming down the dirt road, or saw a dust cloud.”

When I finished untying his left arm, he started working on his right arm. I moved down to his legs and asked him the question on my mind. “So you died a few years before she did. Why’d you even hang around?”

“I kept hoping that when her time finally came, we could forgive each other for the way our lives turned out, but she was too damn angry. A few days after she died, I’d thought we’d reconciled, but that witch done cold-cocked me and I woke up tied to this. Look at my hands! That crazy bat brings a switch back from the woods each night and whips my hands like some kind of Catholic school nun!”

Wishing Amos, or more specifically, the ghost knife at my buddy’s side, was here, I still made decent time undoing all those knots. I helped Isaiah Nixon to his feet and he stumbled a bit, which was funny for a ghost.

“Well, if you help me outside to the well, I can get me a drink and get on out of here afore Eunice gets back.”

I shrugged. Without her husband to vent her anger on, she’d likely run out of steam and maybe I could talk her into leaving. It sounded like a good plan, which was obviously why it was doomed to failure.

“Crazy” Eunice was standing right by that well outside, waiting for us, phantom switch in hand.
“You ain’t getting one single drop out of this well! You hear me?”

Her aura was definitely stronger than his, but nothing I couldn’t handle if need be.

“Get outta the way, you fool woman. I’m done. I’m sick and tired of you! Boy, help me get by her and get some water!”

“Why don’t we all take a moment and calm down?” I offered.

“You let him free, boy! I’ll deal with you after I take care of him.”

Sparing a glance over my shoulder, I saw the Olsens staring out the broken window at me and listening to me talk to no one. I wondered what mom’s favorite daytime guru would say. “Alright, let’s talk it out. Isaiah says getting some water will allow him to leave. I think it’s time to let him go.”

“Let him go!”
the woman howled.
“That water makes him stronger. He ain’t nothing but a big old liar … been one since the day he was born.”

I wasn’t in mom’s favorite show. I was in the ones where the guys in the black “security” shirts hold back the two parties yelling and screaming at each other. Great. Just great.

“She’s lying,”
Isaiah said.
“It happens every time her lips move!”

“How dare you!”
Eunice exclaimed.
“After all you did to me. You wrecked my life!”

“You up and killed me!”

“You sucked the life right out of me long before that!”

The accusations were tossed back and forth, faster than a pro tennis match and I had to ask myself if this was really worth all this nonsense. I kept them from directly attacking one another, but I’m no psychologist. My background as a therapist comes from being forced to sit across from the military ones, and a single community college class in abnormal psychology. Though they definitely qualified as abnormal, I wasn’t any good at that kind of stuff.

“Shut up, both of you!” I’d had enough. “You’re both dead. Get over yourselves. What’s the phrase? Do you want to be happy or do you want to be right?”

They both stopped and stared at me with blank looks. “No. Crap! It’s the other way around, but you know what I’m saying.”

I took my hand off of Isaiah’s flannel shirt and said, “Did you forget to tell me some things while I was untying you? I don’t care how powerful that well water can make you; it might be plenty for her, but it won’t help you against me. I don’t like being lied to.”

Mr. Nixon looked suitably cowed by my threat as I turned my attention to his “slightly” better half and said, “Alright, I heard his story. Let’s hear yours.”

“He made my life a living hell after he was dead. I knew he was there. I don’t know how many times he’d push me down the steps, or trip me. I stopped using the stove after he tried to burn the house down. For the last six months I was alive, I lived on canned soup that I couldn’t even heat up!”
She’d turned on the tear pumps and I don’t know if her husband felt anything, but I could tell this was a classic lose-lose situation.

“You both are a pair of idiots,” I concluded. “I’m guessing neither of you wants to move on and you just want to terrorize the other. Am I getting warm? Don’t bother answering. Go ahead, Isaiah, take a swig from the well. If it’s all that’s keeping you from moving on into the afterlife, I won’t stand between you and whatever comes next.” He hesitated. “So you were lying to me? Alright then, what’s it going to take to get you two to move on? Why don’t you go your separate ways?”

“We can’t leave the property,”
Eunice answered.
“We’re tied to it.”

To hell with the daytime talk show people. I really should have brought Silas.
Fortunately, I had the hotel’s number on a card in my pocket. “Stay right there and don’t do anything. I’ve got to make a phone call.”

Ten minutes later, I approached and saw the truce was still in effect. “Alright, my friend and I talked things over and here’s what we think. You’ve got to go together and that means getting rid of all the hate.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?”
Eunice demanded.

“Well, you can start by getting him a drink of water.”

“What?”

“Silas thinks it was his way of controlling you all these years. That’s why it gave him power over you. If you do it voluntarily, he’s not the boss of you anymore. Once he’s got his power back, he returns the favor and the two of you walk hand in hand off the property and set yourselves free.”