What's a Ghoul to Do? (12 page)

"She's been one surprise after another," Steven replied.

I felt my cheeks grow hot. "It's nothing," I said.

"Sorry about your granddaddy, by the way," Chris said to Steven, then added, "Say, you should have your friend see if she can talk to him."

Steven gave a wink to me. "That's the plan."

"You on your way to the lodge?" Chris asked.

"We just came from there," Gilley answered.

"Oh? Felt the need to check out the town while you're at it, then?" Chris again.

"Actually," Steven said as he swirled his drink, "we're staying at Helen's for the night. There have been some rather… uh … unusual things going on at my grandfather's which we plan to investigate in the daylight."

"Yeah?" said Chris, motioning to one of his waitresses. After she brought him a draft, which he took a huge swig of, he continued, "I heard there've been some weird lights and noises coming from the house ever since Andrew died, and I know Maria gave you her notice. She get spooked and quit?"

"The housekeeper?" Gilley asked. I smirked, because the only way Gil could have known that was by eavesdropping on the conversation I'd had "privately" with Steven in my office.

Steven nodded at Gilley and answered Chris. "I'm not sure it was that. She told me that now that she had her retirement fund, and there was no one to look after at the house, she was better off moving in with her sister closer to town."

Chris chugged the last of his draft like water, giving me a good indication of where his significant girth came from. "Well, I better get back to work. Your tab's on the house, Steven. And thanks to you, miss. That was quite a performance."

I smiled at him, knowing he'd probably felt guilty about Larry's death for decades. "Anytime, and thanks for the drinks."

After Chris had gone, Steven said, "Come on, it's getting late, and I'm thinking Miss Holliday will want to get an early start."

"Miss Holliday wanted to get started earlier, but was hampered by her two fleeing accomplices," I said with a chuckle; then I got serious. "Listen, fellas," I said to Steven and Gilley. "If we're going to do this, I need your solemn vow that no matter what happens, we're not leaving until we've done our best to make contact with Andrew. Deal?"

"Deal," Steven said firmly.

Gilley fiddled with the zipper of his jacket for a moment until I poked him; then he finally gave in. "Yeah, okay. But I still reserve the right to head to the van and monitor the equipment if things get too dicey."

I sighed, patting Gilley on the back, and settled for that.

* * * *

The next morning I came downstairs with Doc on my shoulder and was greeted by a tall, rather plump woman who looked to be in her late fifties, with tight, curly blond hair and smooth, creamy skin. "Good morning!" she said cheerfully. "I'm Helen Scottsdale, the proprietor."

"Nice to meet you," I said as I shook her hand and introduced myself. Doc gave a whistle and cocked his head.

"Oh, what a pretty bird," she said, noting Doc.

"Doc's delicious!" he chirped. "Doc's a pretty, pretty bird!"

"Parrots," I said with a chuckle. "They have such big egos."

Helen giggled. "Steven's in the dining room. There's scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Would your bird like some fruit?"

"Doc's a pretty bird!" Doc said, bobbing his head.

"One order of fruit for the Froot Loop," I quipped, giving Doc a playful tug on his tail. He turned in a circle on my shoulder to show me he was all that and a bag of chips.

I headed into the dining room and found Steven seated at the head of the table reading a paper. "Morning," I said as I took my seat.

He looked over the top of the paper and said, "Good morning, M.J. Did you rest well?"

"Not really," I said honestly. "It's hard for me in strange places."

"Hard for you?"

I took a scoopful of eggs from a dish in the center of the table before explaining. "Let's just say I'm like a pay phone, and on the other side pay phones like me are really rare. So when I show up in a neighborhood, there's a line of people waiting to make a call."

Steven set the paper down completely. "I don't think I am understanding this pay phone analog."

"Analogy,"
I corrected, and took a bite of eggs as I thought about how to better describe my struggle to get some sleep. "Helen's deceased relatives all wanted to talk to her last night. As if they were trying through me to make a long-distance phone call. They were all fighting to be heard, from a woman named Betty or Betsy, who I think is Helen's mother, to a brother figure named Brian. And some guy named Arnold was truly obnoxious. He would
not
let me sleep. He kept going on and on about going to the lake, and he didn't know it would happen while he was on his fishing trip. Whatever that means."

As I finished that sentence there was a loud crash from behind me and Steven; we jumped at the noise. I turned in my chair and saw Helen standing there, a shocked expression on her face, and a shattered plate that had held fruit for Doc on the floor. "Did you say Arnold?" she asked breathlessly.

"Uh …" I said, looking at Steven. I hadn't realized she was right behind me. "Yes. Did Steven tell you that I can hear people who've died?"

"He mentioned it," she said as she bent over to pick up the pieces of porcelain. I set Doc on the arm of my chair and came over to help her.

"I'm sorry," I said as I bent beside her. "I'm not the most sensitive person sometimes."

"No, that's fine," she said quickly, and I noticed her hands were shaking. "But could I just ask you … what did Arnold say again?"

I met her eyes—there was something there that clearly tormented her—and without warning I felt Arnold come thumping into my energy. I got up holding some of the porcelain and fruit, and she stood too. "He says that he never would have gone to the lake if he'd known something was coming soon. He says he never should have left you alone."

A tear formed in Helen's eye and slid down her cheek. She gulped and turned away into the kitchen, and I stood there stupidly for a beat or two, still holding the broken plate and fruit. Steven came up behind me and held out his hands. "Give me those," he said gently, and I handed him the shards. He followed after Helen as I went back to my seat feeling totally ashamed of myself. Me and my big mouth. "Good job, M.J.," I said, swirling the eggs around on my plate.

"Good job at what?" Gilley asked as he took up a chair across from me.

"Nothing," I said dismissively. "Just making an ass of myself."

"Again?" he quipped. "I would have thought you'd had enough of that by now."

"Gee, Gil, gonna take that comedy routine on the road anytime soon?" I snapped.

"Hey," Gilley said, becoming serious. "M.J., don't be like that. I thought we were making fun. What happened?"

Before I got a chance to answer, Steven came back into the room. Taking his seat, he put his hand over mine and said, "She's fine. Just taken by surprise. Arnold was her late husband. When she was pregnant with their son, he went to the lake to do some fishing and Helen went into early labor. A neighbor took her to the hospital and word finally made its way out to Arnold. While he was rushing back he lost control of his car and was killed."

"That's terrible," I said. No wonder Arnold was bombarding me. I'd have been doing the same thing. "I feel like crap. I had no idea she was behind me."

"No harm, no foul ball, M.J.," he said to me, and gave my hand a squeeze.

I smiled at his blunder as from behind us we heard a sniffle, and Helen came back into the room carrying a fresh plate of fruit for Doc. "Sorry about that," she said, setting the plate down in front of him. "It was just a shock…." Her voice trailed off. She gave me a small pat on my shoulder and hurried out of the room.

"What
did you say to her?" Gilley asked.

Before I had a chance to respond, Steven cut in. "What's the plan for attacking today?"

Gil flashed me a grin, and I was grateful for the change of subject. "The plan of attack is this," I said confidently. "The first thing I think we should do is remove all of the televisions from the house. Normally, I'd prefer to keep them to monitor the ghost's movements from floor to floor, but with so many for him to play with, I think it could get a bit chaotic."

"Good," Steven said with a nod. "Then what?"

"Then Gilley and I will need to do a baseline test."

"What is this baseline test?"

"We record the dimensions, temperature, layout, and electromagnetic energy in every room of the house."

"What is that for?" Steven asked.

"So that we can monitor changes throughout the day. A sudden drop or increase in temperature can indicate a ghost is afoot," I explained. "We also put some trigger objects in those rooms we think are most active—and before you ask, a trigger object is something that can be easily moved by a spirit and may attract their curiosity. We use things like a small dish of sand, or a house of cards, or a book stood on end. We know we've got spectral activity when one of these objects has been moved or shows signs of being tampered with," I explained.

"We'll also need to take a digital photograph of each room," Gilley said.

"I know I sound repeating," Steven said with a grin. "But why?"

"We'll be looking for orbs, corkscrews, vortexes, and sparks," Gilley said, and just as Steven opened his mouth to ask for another clarification he said, "Orbs are small balls of light that are the easiest form a ghost can take. Corkscrews are swirling bands of light, indicative of a ghost or spirit coming in from another dimension to ours. Vortexes are the portals spirits travel through when they go from this dimension to the other."

"Yes, M.J. told me of these portals earlier. Do you think my grandfather is using one?" I knew why he looked worried. I had told him that only bad energies needed them.

"No, I don't think he's using one. But there may be another energy in the house, and we definitely want to clear the lodge of all grounded spirits, both good and bad."

"If my colleagues back in Germany could see me having this conversation," he said as he shook his head. "I am afraid they would pull my medical license."

I smiled. "It can be a little surreal. That is, until you've experienced what I have."

"You two ready to get going?" Gilley said, wiping his mouth and scooting back his chair.

"Ready," I said, standing up and taking Doc off the arm of the chair. "Do you think someone should check on Helen?" I asked.

"I think it's best to leave her alone for now. I'll call later and make sure she's okay," Steven said.

* * * *

We decided to leave Doc at the B and B, thinking that with a mischievous and energetic poltergeist loose it might make sense to keep him tucked away at the inn. Twenty minutes later we'd made it back to the Sable hunting lodge without incident. Gilley drove with a white-knuckled grip on the wheel as we came down the long driveway. "You sure you're up to this?" I asked him seriously.

"Yeah," he said grimly. "But I'm still reserving the right to head to the van if things get too freaky."

I laughed and gave him a pat on the back. "Poor Gil. Look what having a crush on an unavailable man has brought you to."

"Say what?" he said, cutting me a look.

"Dr. Delicious. You have a crush."

"No, not that," Gil said. "I was asking about the unavailable part."

I laughed at the serious look on his face. "He's straight, buddy."

"He's European; it's the same as being gay."

"He's
Latin,"
I said.

"Oh, I stand
corrected,
he's not gay … he's bi."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, honey," I said, surrendering.

We parked the van behind Steven again and got out to unload. Once we had all of the equipment piled onto the front steps, Steven opened the front door. The three of us walked in, listening intently for the sound of a blaring TV. We were met with only silence, so I turned and began to bring in the equipment. Gil and Steven joined me, though more than once I caught them pausing to listen again.

"Televisions?" Gilley asked once we'd hauled in all our stuff.

Nodding, I turned to Steven. "Is there someplace we can store the TVs so they won't get damaged?"

"There's a wine cellar below the kitchen. They should be okay down there."

I motioned with my hand in an
after you
gesture, and we began with the nearest TVs on the ground floor. While we worked I got a chance to scope out the place in the daylight. It was incredibly impressive for a "hunting lodge." I counted fourteen rooms on the main floor alone, complete with gourmet-sized kitchen, drawing room, solarium, library, formal dining room, sunroom, and indoor pool. The furnishings were opulent, mostly French antiques, and suited the place well.

As Gilley and Steven carefully took the first TV to the wine cellar, I had a moment to myself in the kitchen. Testing the surroundings for spiritual energy, I closed my eyes and sent out my radar. I got a hit right away, but it was elusive. Male energy. Older. A sense of confusion seemed to surround him, and then I felt it drift away. I opened my eyes and looked out the window. The view over the sink showed the grounds, and to the right, the side of the indoor pool's wall extended out from the house.

My intuition was drawn to that area; in fact, I felt a great sense of urgency to go there. Looking left I saw a door that led outside. "Guys?" I called down the stairs. "I'll be right back." I headed out the door.

Outside I held my hand up to block the sun—I'd left my sunglasses inside. I blinked a few times and followed my intuitive instinct, stopping in front of the far wall of the indoor pool. I bent down and touched the ground, which was covered with leaves and debris. In my mind's eye I saw a rake, and smiled. Yeah, this spot definitely needed a little attention. Standing up, I couldn't understand why I'd been tugged out here to this spot, so I looked around. Maybe I'd gotten it wrong?

Behind me was a short lawn before thick woods, which spanned as far as the eye could see. I felt compelled to go to the woods, but decided I'd better wait until after we'd done our baseline test. I turned back toward the house just as I felt another, much stronger pull to my right, and paused for a moment to assess that pull on my energy. When a spirit wants me to go in a certain direction, I often feel a sense of being tugged right or left. The more forceful the tugging feeling, the more urgently the spirit wants to get my attention.