Mystery of the Windowed Closet

by R. J. Bonett

  After the game, we usually stopped at Paul’s Steaks in South Philly for a few sandwiches to go then wound up at my apartment for a few beers, to re-hash the highlights-and lowlights-of the game. By then, he would be calmed down and the beer always served as a soothing agent for his much irritated throat.

  Don’s wife__ Delores; was especially tolerant of our absence almost every Sunday afternoon during football season. We would gather with a few other friends at my apartment to watch football or go to a sports bar to watch the Eagles play their away games. She was also a pretty good sport about our overnight fishing trips.

  If you didn’t know them, seeing them standing next to each other was kind of comical. Don’s over 6’ feet, and Delores is about 5 feet one inch-a real “Mutt and Jeff” combination. In spite of their physical differences, they complemented each other by sharing the same interests and dislikes.

  She’s an attractive, well built woman in her early 30s with unique facial features. Her long black hair, full lips and high cheek bones made her look almost goddess-like, and I was sure her lineage was possibly from the area of Romania.

  Yes, there’s no doubt about it. She’s beautiful. A woman like that would be every man’s dream, and I had to choose the tall blond I was married to. Then again, I saw Delores as proof that there was someone still out there who would be a match for me, and that was comforting.

  Delores also possesses another unique ability. I had heard from Don something I hadn’t yet personally confirmed. Something she inherited, a talent from her mother and grandmother before her. As I understand from my conversations with him, her ability was with psychic powers. The talent; or ability- for lack of a better word, was being able to somehow strangely predict the future or communicate with spirits from the past. What she was capable of doing was hard to imagine, and most professionals would classify anyone who admits to such powers, a lunatic. And yet, I know Delores to be down to earth and far from being eccentric.

  Don told me it started when she would give palm readings as a form of entertainment at parties they attended. Someone, inevitably hearing of her talent, would always ask for a reading. Several people who were read would leave laughing at the remotest chance of her predictions ever being fulfilled. When several people returned telling her about the uncanny accuracy of her predictions, they would ask for a second reading. She began to realize her ability was far and above her sister’s and mother’s talent and she began to get more and more calls for readings.

  Her talent entered a whole new realm when a homicide detective from Camden, New Jersey called.

  Delores vaguely recalled doing a reading for the wife of a police detective from Camden, a city across the Delaware River from Philadelphia. The caller asked if she was Delores Lee and identified himself as Camden Homicide Detective David Jones. Her initial reaction was one of alarm and asked franticly if anything had happened to Don. Psychics don’t always know what lies ahead for them or their loved ones, which explained her reaction to the call. After reassuring her that he wasn’t the bearer of bad news, he stumbled ahead with his reason for calling.

  “If you’ll just bare with me for a few minutes, I don’t quite know how to start this conversation. It’s not the everyday question anyone would ask.”

  After reassuring him that she was accustomed to hearing all sorts of requests and wouldn’t pass judgment, she gained his trust encouraging him to continue.

  He began, “Maybe I should start at the beginning. My wife went to a reading with you last year. You told her she would have to have a minor surgery within the next few weeks for something that couldn’t wait. When she came home and told me, we both laughed. She had just gone through a complete physical and passed with flying colors. Two weeks later we were at the pool where we swim three nights a week, and she started experiencing tightness in her chest. Remembering what you told her, she insisted we drive straight to the hospital, something that was very unusual for my wife. Normally she passes off any small ache or pain. Luckily we did, after giving her a cardiogram, she was rushed to the operating room and immediately had a stent put in. She had a 98 percent blockage of her right coronary artery.

  The doctor said if she would have gone home first, there would have been no guarantee she would have made it back to the hospital alive.”

  “Is she okay?” Delores frantically asked.

  “Yes, thanks to you. She went back again several months ago, and you told her about her sister losing her husband. Thinking it was absurd and so remote, they too were in good shape physically, and enjoyed all sorts of sports activities. That is, until she went home to find a note that he’d left her for another woman. I guess she wished you were a little more specific as to how he was going to leave.”

  “I remember your wife now. She came here with two other women. She wasn’t supposed to be read, but her friends insisted, and she had me read her too.”

  “That’s right: Well, getting back to the reason I called. Have you ever been able to see or feel surroundings by holding a piece of clothing or an article a person owned?”

  “I’m not sure I quite follow your question. Are you asking me to help on an investigation?”

  “Yes, that’s about what I’m trying to ask. If you feel you can give us some time where we can get together, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Where do you want to meet me?”

  “I could come to you, or you can come to the Camden City police headquarters, Homicide Unit, and ask for me, Detective David Jones. Here, it would be a much more controlled environment with witnesses. When can I make the appointment?”

  “Tomorrow will be fine. I’ll be there at 3:00 in the afternoon. My husband Don can drive me.”

  “That’s great! I’m looking forward to meeting you.”

  According to Don, the next day when Delores arrived, they put her in a room equipped with a two-way mirror. There were two chairs and a table in the small room, with Detective Jones on one side and Delores on the other. A tape recorder was on the table with a microphone that he switched on as soon as she sat down, wanting to record everything that was said. He began by asking her name and a few other formalities for the record.

  He took a partially blood-stained shirt from a brown bag that had a label attached to it with the word “evidence” marked boldly across the front. The shirt was small and looked like the style and colors of a parochial school blouse Delores guessed, possibly from a fifth or sixth grader.

  “Have you ever held an article like this and had a vision, or feeling of the person that owned it, or however way you would put it?”

  “Is this a piece of clothing from a homicide?” she asked.

  “Not yet. Right now, she’s just a missing person, but we suspect it will be if we can find the body. You’re probably the last hope we have. The kid’s been missing since school began in September.”

  “Let me hold the garment, I’ll let you know what I feel.”

  Don explained how Jones handed her the garment, and she closed her eyes going into a semi-conscious state. Gently holding the shirt running her fingers over the fabric, she began to speak.

  “I see a vacant lot with a rusted set of railroad tracks and weeds growing up around them. It’s leading into the rear of a vacant building. Yes, I can see it. It’s an abandoned factory, a factory with a lot of broken windows high on the wall. The wall has graffiti on most of it, but the word KING is predominantly spray-painted in black, with a crown roughly drawn over it; large letters, very large letters.”

  She paused for a few more moments, as if she was personally standing there surveying the scene, then continued. “There’s wooden pallets scattered around, and one propped up against a cyclone fence, holding it open. There are a few metal drums painted blue scattered around, with a few lying on their sides, and a few standing upright. I get a strong sensation for what I’m feeling right there.”

  Within a few
minutes, she broke her concentration, and Detective Jones slowly turned off the recorder. Looking surprised, he reverently took back the garment, returning it to the bag.

  “Are you aware of what you described?” he asked.

  “No, I never know what I’ve said. But there is a strong presence connected to that garment of whatever I described. Who did it belong to?”

  “It belonged to a little girl that’s been missing since the first week of school. That’s all the lead we have. It was found about two blocks from her home.”

  “That’s tragic. I’ve never experienced anything like this before, it wasn’t easy.”

  “I’m sure it wasn’t. Thanks for your cooperation. Your husband is waiting in the lobby.”

  I remember asking Don if it helped, and him telling me one of the detectives remembered an old abandoned factory she had to pass on her way to school. When they investigated the rear of the factory, the first thing that stood out was the graffiti spray painted on the factory wall. They stopped and stood in amazement at the large spray-painted crown with the word KING written under it, exactly as Delores described. Looking at each other with a reassuring eye, they sensed something that was very unique from all their other investigations. They surveyed the lot with the railroad tracks leading into the back of the factory. After taking a series of photos, they called for more police to help with the search. One of the officers checking the metal drums, found her remains inside one of them.

  I remember him telling me the detective who did the interview called her to share how accurate she had been with describing the area behind the factory. He told her how skeptical he was about the process, but after seeing the results, he became a true believer. He was so taken by her success he asked if she could possibly aid them in a description, if she could by going to the site. Hesitant to agree because of her reaction to feeling the garment, she decided for the childes sake, it was the right thing to do.

  After accompanying the detectives to the location behind the factory, without telling her where the body was found, she walked the vacant lot stopping close to where the metal drum that held the body had been. Closing her eyes, she told them the murder didn’t take place here. It took place in a house.

  She felt it was done by an older man who looks to be in his mid 50s, heavy set, with a bald head. That’s all she could tell them.

  I asked Don if they ever found the murderer, and he told me it was a neighbor who lived several houses away. He had a prior record of contributing to the delinquency of a minor, and when they searched his home, they found several articles of clothing that belonged to the deceased.

  I asked him if Delores had done anything else for the police department, and he told me she had, once in a small New Jersey township, and another in Camden. From what he told me, he didn’t care for her ability and mentioned to me on several occasions that he spoke to her about his concerns. He explained that after she comes out of her trance she seems exhausted for several hours, and sometimes even longer. I personally never saw her power demonstrated, but with her psychic ability, maybe she can help shed some light on my dilemma, and I wondered if Don and Delores would accompany me there next weekend.

  With the skyline of the city coming into view, I was anxious to get to my apartment to make the call.

  Chapter 7

  After dialing the number, Don answered the phone.

  “Hello, Don. I called to see if we could get together sometime during the week.”

  “I don’t see any problem with it, how about Wednesday? You can come over for dinner. How was the weekend at the farm, were you able to get a lot accomplished?”

  “That’s what I’d like to talk to you and Delores about. It’s been a weird weekend, to say the least.”

  “When we last spoke, you sounded like you were looking forward to getting away__ what happened?”

  “I was anxious until I got to the farm. I had a few unwanted visitors.”

  Laughing, he said, “What do you mean unwanted visitors? Did the locals protest your buying the place? Did they congregate outside with signs? No more city slickers or pickets saying, ‘Flatlanders go home’?”

  “No. Nothing that subtle, the visitors I had were transparent and downright angry.”

  “What! What the hell are you talking about?” he exclaimed.

  “Don: I think I bought a house that still has some restless spirits occupying it.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me the place has ghosts? It’s haunted?”

  “That’s about the size of it. Shook the hell out of me I’ll tell ya.”

  After giving him a brief rundown of my experiences, we agreed on me coming over for dinner on Wednesday evening after work.

  “I’ll see you then.” Don remarked.

  Hanging up the phone, I took the soiled clothes I was wearing at the farm and dumped them in the washer. It had only taken a few minutes when the phone rang. It was Delores excitedly asking, “What’s this about spirits at your farm?”

  I began telling her about my experiences over the weekend, when she abruptly interrupted. “Don’t wait until Wednesday. If you’re not busy, come over now. We’re not doing anything.”

  I decided to go now and speak with them face-to-face, while it was all still fresh in my mind. When I got to their house they had already set out a few chips and some onion dip anticipating my arrival. Sitting in the living room, I began to relate my story of the weekend. Don looked a little skeptical, but Delores seemed to be absorbing every word like a sponge and was very attentive.

  After I finished the narrative I asked, “Delores, have you ever been involved with or heard of anyone having a similar experience?”

  “I have. In fact, it was here in the city. Coincidently, the apparition was also Quaker.”

  “When and where was that?” I asked.

  “It happened to the Sullivan family. They lived in an old section of the city called Frankford. Their little girl Mary, as I recall, about the age of nine was in her living room when she saw a woman dressed in black come in through the front door, then go up the steps to the second floor. She described the woman as elderly, but you know kids, anyone taller than them they consider old. I distinctly remember her saying ‘The woman seemed to glide across the floor, like Casper the Friendly Ghost.’ a cartoon character she watches on TV.”

  “You said the woman came through the front door? You mean she opened the door or actually came through the front door?”

  “Yes! She didn’t open it the way we would. It was explained to me, when Mary felt the hair rise on the back of her neck she looked toward the door. She said there seemed to be a mist coming through it. As the mist got bigger, the woman came out of it. Mary followed her asking who she was and where she was going, but the woman never turned around or answered her. She described it the same way you did when the woman passed you during the night, as if the apparition wasn’t aware of your presence.”

  It sounded very familiar with my experience, and when Delores said it, I could feel the hair on the back of my neck rise, just as it did Saturday night.

  She continued. “According to Mary’s mother, the spirit walked into a bedroom. Mary followed her, but when she opened the bedroom door, there was no one in the room. It seemed that Mary’s sightings were on days when she sensed something different in the air. I took her to mean a certain amount of static electricity.”

  Listening to Delores, it sounded like the same way Frank described his sister Elizabeth’s experiences.

  She continued, “Mary’s older brother Tommy on two occasions, saw a man and a woman both dressed in black enter the house and go straight through to the kitchen. He too called to them, but he didn’t think they knew he was there. When he went to the kitchen, they had disappeared. After Tommy’s second sighting, he went to the Frankford Historical Society, a building in the neighborhood to look at old maps of th
e area.”

  I was familiar with the Frankford section of the city, and knew it was settled in the late 1600s and had a ton of history attached to it. I also knew the early settlers were indeed Quakers.

  “On one map, Tommy saw what looked like a cabin or a farm house in the exact location of his current row home.”

  “What, if anything, did they do about it?” I asked.

  “They wound up living with the problem. Since they didn’t think they were a threat, they figured they could co-exist. Tommy said it was kind of cool living with ghosts.”

  “Are they always just something in another dimension that couldn’t harm you?” I asked.

  “On the contrary, it depends on the way they died and what they’re trying to free themselves from.

  I personally feel that deaths that were premature from an accident or murder were spirits trying to free themselves from that time it took place, or correct circumstances that could have prevented it.”

  “That sounds logical. What about the temperature difference where the sightings took place?”

  “That’s normal. I experienced a wide range of temperature differences between hot and cold.”

  When she said hot, I immediately thought of the extreme temperature change that night taking a shower and about the angry look on the Quaker’s face when he passed me. Could he have been the cause of it? Listening to her really had my brain in full gear. Was this the real reason the previous owner was reluctant to talk about the house at settlement? Did he have some sort of violent experience as I had with the hot water? All that was circulating in my mind the whole time I was listening and asked, “Although they’re spirits, can they have the ability to move things that are real or something we can touch?”