“I thought she was acting out and ignored her at first.” He pauses and I sense he’s weighing his words. “My wife died eight months ago. Mackenzie was very close to her stepmother. Things have been difficult for both of us.”
I feel pinpricks on my scalp. Trauma, death, a child, and presumed bad behavior. I don’t like that this is going into poltergeist country.
“Has it tried to harm either of you?” He doesn’t respond. “Doctor?”
“Not exactly. There’s not been any plate throwing or scratches on either of us, if that’s what you mean. Mackenzie says it watches her at night after she goes to bed. It stands in her doorway.”
“And you? What have you experienced?” Honestly, it’s like pulling teeth to get it out of the man. The line is silent. Mojo’s returned for his biscuit, but not without giving me an evil amber eye glare.
“I’ve only seen it once.” He almost laughs then sighs. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation. Mackenzie wasn’t home. I woke up to find someone standing beside my bed. Of course, I thought it was an intruder. It was dark in the room so I only saw a silhouette, but I was certain it was a living, breathing person standing there… right next to me. It put its hands around my neck….”
Pratt’s talking too slow and picking his words too carefully. Didn’t he just say it hadn’t tried to harm them? He isn’t telling me the whole story. I want to reach through the phone and shake the full story out of him. I get the feeling as a surgeon, he’s someone who has to deliver bad news too often, and he doesn’t do it very well.
You’ll never walk again. Surgery won’t help you. The hospital bill is a million dollars. No more OxyContin for you.
He sighs again. “I sat up, ready for the fight of my life. It turned around and walked…. It walked through the door. I know that sounds absurd. It is absurd; I still don’t believe it myself. I followed it out of the room and went to the top of the stairs. It was already at the bottom. It turned around… and looked at me.”
Boris Karloff in the 1940 horror movie, Black Friday. I’ve been racking my brain and finally figure out that’s who the doctor reminds me of, and that’s just creepy. In the movie, Boris played a surgeon. He did a brain transplant to save a patient’s life, but he used the brain of a gangster. And that brain was still filled with evil gangster thoughts.
“Did it look like anyone you’ve ever known?” I ask, just above a whisper. I can almost hear the horror music playing in the background.
“Yes,” Boris says. “He looked exactly like….” creak… de, de, de… skreeeek, “Me.”
Chapter Three
§
Just as my imaginary creepy organ music reaches a crescendo and the lights go out, Pratt tells me he has to go and disconnects. According to my phone, I’ve just wasted nineteen minutes, enough time to have driven to the diner and ordered a pizza.
Mojo’s ready to go, but I admit I’m curious. I google Douglas Pratt, M.D., in Oregon, and find an orthopedic surgeon who must be him. He’s got an impressive looking office and glowing credentials at St. James Hospital.
He’s a good looking man, probably in his mid-forties with pale skin, coarse brown hair streaked with gray, and eyes as serious as a surgeon’s scalpel. He isn’t smiling and there are no creases around his mouth that indicate he ever does.
I close my eyes and rest my fingers on his picture. After a few minutes, I get what I already guessed: serious, inflated ego, and yep, detached. Assuming my caller was this Dr. Pratt and not another or someone impersonating the man, I figure the photo was taken long before the apparition came into his life.
Right, the figure whose face he saw downstairs, but not standing next to his bed? Come on, Doc, what would your distinguished colleagues think of such a tall tale? True, he could have turned on a light, but I’m not buying it.
Mojo pokes me and leaves the room. The two of us eat at my dad’s diner a few times a week, but not on any set days. How does he even know we’re going tonight? I don’t ask because I know he won’t tell me.
Ten minutes later, I let Neil know that he missed a great podcast. He’s not talking either so I close the door behind me.
The diner is packed with the dinner rush. My dad is flipping burgers and talking on his phone. I grab a pot of coffee and make the rounds filling cups as Mojo goes behind the grill. Dinner at the diner usually means working at the diner. Rita does the evening shift and has for the past ten years. She doesn’t move as fast as she used to but no one complains.
Since everyone knows everyone else, it’s not unusual to see customers getting their own coffee or plates from the counter. I’m grabbing a couple of those plates from the counter when Arthur tells me to get some steaks from the freezer.
“You’ve got a few in the bin next to you,” I say.
He shouts something about meaning to say pork chops while eyeing the front door. He’s got a big cloud of deceit spinning over his head. Since he knows I can see these things, he should know better than to lie to me.
I turn around to see what he’s looking at and feel my stomach drop to my knees. It’s the ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. I’ve been hearing gossip about the two of them for over a week. Sooner or later, I knew I’d run into them and oh look, here they are.
“Nobody’s ordered any pork chops,” I say, and grab a couple of menus. The sooner I get this over with, the sooner it will be over with.
Rita tries to snatch the menus from me as she runs interference. I tell her I’ve got it and make my way to Levi’s table.
“How you two doing this evening?” I ask. Levi didn’t see me coming, and he’s looking a little waxy right now. If he didn’t want to look waxy, he should have stayed out of my dad’s diner.
“Jack. How’s it going?”
“It’s going real good,” I say, nodding my head to the woman who’s sitting across from him and looking puzzled.
She’s new in town, according to my friends who like to keep me informed about Levi’s personal life despite my refusing to listen. The woman, Julia, is an elementary school teacher, just like Levi’s mom was ours. I wish she wasn’t so pretty or smiling so wide now. I guess she hasn’t heard about me.
“Jack, this is Jack. I mean Julia. Julia, Jack.” Levi’s waxiness has taken on a puke green glow.
“Nice to meet you, Julia. Welcome to town.” I fill their coffee cups, grin at Levi, and leave the menus while fighting off irrational tears.
Levi and I grew up together. We’re friends and soul mates who have different paths to follow. I follow mine back to the restroom to get myself together. Rita’s taking their orders when I return with my practiced smile glued on my face. The wolfdog gives me the evil eye then goes and lies at Levi’s feet. Traitor.
Arthur asks me to take over the grill because his back is hurting. He’s lying and he knows I know it. In less than five minutes, he’s out talking to the customers, pouring coffee, and collecting dishes. Levi and Julia are gone when he tells me he feels better. That makes one of us.
I’m feeling sorry for myself as the last customers leave and we lock the doors. Checking my phone, I see I have three messages. I never have three messages. Business isn’t that good, and I’m not that popular.
The first and second calls are from Dr. Pratt. He says in both that he’ll call back later. The third call’s also from Pratt and it’s over nine minutes long. I get a sick feeling looking at my phone. Maybe the good doctor’s more like Boris than I thought.
I wait until I’m in my jeep to listen to the message. Pratt apologizes for all his calls. This is a good sign, but he’s also whispering again so I’m torn about the man. He made the calls after eight o’clock. Who’s eavesdropping on this guy that he has to call so late? He says he’s made his decision. He needs this matter resolved. “However,” he whispers, “it must be done my way.”
I cringe at the thought. My opinion of people who want things done their way is that they can do it themselves.
He says I need to be
discrete. Again, he reminds me that his reputation and career are at stake. There’s a threatening tone in his feathery voice. Pratt says he’ll make arrangements for me to fly to Shem Bay. He’ll even pay for a rental car. Since I don’t fly this will never happen. I’m ready to call him back and suggest he contact a few local paranormal groups, but he isn’t done.
The doctor has decided, without me, that he’ll introduce me as his niece, Marie Pratt, who is visiting from Arizona. His daughter will be home in a few days, and I’m not to mention the real purpose of my visit to her or his staff. I will stay in his guest house and have limited access to the main house during the day. After his staff leaves in the evening, I will have access to the house for as yet to be determined hours.
The guy’s a kook as well as a control freak. I’m ready to delete the message and forget all about him, but the call isn’t over. He’s paused, and I’m just waiting when he clears his throat and says that he’s desperate and… terrified.
He claims he’s called those local paranormal groups I’d planned on recommending. “After talking to them, you’re the only one who I believe can help me.” There’s another pause, and I’m busy thinking I’m nobody’s savior.
“It tried to strangle me and I think it’s trying to… to possess me.”
More silence and I wonder what the man is doing. I’m almost sure it involves a glass and ice cubes. Whatever’s going on with him, other than trying to turn me into another person named Marie Pratt from Arizona, I’m sensing confusion. I thought he said it just put its hands on his neck– now he claims he was being strangled? And if he only saw the figure once, why is he making the leap to possession?
Granted, possessions are real and I’ve seen more than a few. Dark spirits though prefer the weak and vulnerable. They like those with substance abuse or mental health problems. Not that the doctor couldn’t have a little of both, but a successful surgeon with a guest house and a staff isn’t someone I would normally consider an easy target.
“I did something that’s totally out of character. Something I would never….”
I reach over and lock the door of the jeep. I don’t know if I want to hear what he would never do and it’s making me nervous, but at last we’re getting somewhere.
“I fell asleep after dinner….”
There was yet another pause before these last words burst out of the man’s mouth. His voice still echoes in my ear, making him seem… possessed.
“When I woke up, I had one of my daughter’s dolls in my lap.”
I pull the phone away. Okay, hold on here. This is going exactly where I have no intentions of going with the man, ghost or no ghost. I keep my finger posed to disconnect the call as another pause lingers. Now I can tell he’s drinking something. He comes back in a voice so low I have to turn off the fan that’s warming the jeep to hear him.
“The doll… there was a knife… stuck into its chest.”
Chapter Four
§
Better the knife in the doll’s chest than the daughter’s, I’m thinking as the message ends. Pratt didn’t ask for a return call, and I’m not sure I want to make one. It’s late and I need time to mull this job over.
I’m torn between wanting to help him, taking his money to pay my mortgage, and dismissing him as an irritating kook. I’m leaning towards kook, slightly. Plus, I respect my clients’ privacy, but I don’t play anyone’s pretend relative and I don’t fly. I’m sure Mojo would not take kindly to being locked in a cargo hold, and he’s not the type you want to put in a ticked off state of mind.
When I get home, I look up Shem Bay on the internet. The doctor might be possessed, even crazy, but he isn’t poor or even middle class. I don’t know which of the mansions overlooking the Oregon coastline are his, but all of them impress me.
I check and see that my ad’s been added to Randy’s website, and I have an email with a copy of the podcast. I write a post and put them both on my site then get ready for bed. As I slip under the blankets, my phone rings and I cringe. It’s almost midnight; no good news comes this late. I look at the number and start to let it go to voice mail, but I don’t want to deal with this one later.
“Hi,” I say, trying to sound upbeat or at least not pathetic.
“Hey, Jack. Everything okay?”
“Shouldn’t it be?” I ask, bite my tongue, and wince.
“Sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean that to happen. I mean. Well, I should probably stop going to the diner. I mean—
“Levi, stop meaning so much. It’s fine. I heard you were dating and you should be. There’s no reason at all not to be going to the diner. You’re always welcome there. You and Julia are….”
We’re both listening to the other one breathing. I figure Levi heard about my trip to Colorado with Acker, even though I didn’t necessarily want it to get back to him. It’s time for both of us to move on, I try to say, but the words won’t come.
Instead, I say it’s late. He agrees and we disconnect. It’s time, I tell myself, but it doesn’t help a bit.
∞
When me and the wolfdog get back from our early morning hike in the mountains, I have a message from Dr. Pratt. He wants to know the next step in my process. His fear is gone, his ego back intact.
The cool desert air did wonders in clearing my mind. He’s a client who needs and can afford my services. He’s got a successful medical practice, and he believes in ghosts. How kooky can he be?
After spending a week in the Arkansas woods with skunks and snakes and Levi on my last job, the Pacific Ocean sounds exactly like what I need. Getting out of town right now sounds even better.
I call and get Pratt’s voicemail. First, I have to clear up the man’s confusion. No air travel, no niece, no Marie. I tell him to send me his email address and I’ll send him the contract, which I say he’ll need to sign and return before making his payment. Business before ghosts is my motto.
I also tell Pratt that I’ll need to talk to his daughter after my arrival as her input is critical. He didn’t mention how old she is, so I add that I won’t do anything to scare or upset her, and I’ll let him do most of the talking– if necessary.
Besides being attracted to crazies, alcoholics, and drug users, dark spirits– and poltergeists– are fond of children: the weak and innocent. Since Mackenzie was the first to see the apparition, she may have been what opened the portal to usher in its arrival; something I don’t plan on bringing up unless necessary, but not talking to her is not an option.
With that out of the way, I get ready to go. I’m taking Maybelle to bingo– like it or not, and I don’t. Maybelle lost her sight when I was a child. She never tires of playing it for all it’s worth, including dragging me to bingo so I can play her cards for her. The absurdity is not lost on either of us.
While I’m playing, I know exactly what she’ll be talking about– Levi. Despite her love of minding my business, that conversation is ending as soon as it starts.
After breakfast, I check my email. Nothing from Pratt or anyone else who isn’t selling something or other.
“We’re going to bingo,” I tell Mojo.
He hangs his head, looks at the floor for a few seconds then snorts and walks to the door. I feel his pain.
Maybelle’s unusually quiet when I get to her house. She’s dressed in one of her favorite outfits and wants help with her hair. When we walk to the jeep, I smell jasmine.
Well now, this is a turn of events. My grandfather died over ten years ago. I haven’t smelled the love spell scent on the woman since then. I start to ask what’s going on, but don’t want to step in that rat trap.
We park at the Clear Water Methodist Church and walk to the door. Maybelle asks me how she looks. “Guilty,” I say, and she whacks me with her cane.
After finding a table, Mojo crawls under it and I go to the front to buy cards. When I start back, I see TK Booker has planted himself in my chair and he’s holding Maybelle’s hand. I trip over someone’s bag and fall back on
my butt.
Jasmine for TK Booker? What is Maybelle thinking? TK’s a nice enough guy if you like old and round and bald and short and goofy. He’s the last person on earth my dignified grandmother would ever be, oh my Great Spirit, sweet on?
The man has called me Ghosty since as long as I can remember. His wife died six months ago, and I swear he’s been sporting a new spring in his step since the funeral. I admit the woman had her issues.
The next two hours are a bust. I play bingo, alone and TK plays Maybelle, figuratively. They make plans for dinner and he kisses her on the cheek.
“I don’t want to hear about it,” I say, as soon as I pull out of the church parking lot.
“I wasn’t planning on telling you anything. It’s none of your business. Levi’s got a girlfriend. What are you going to do about that?”
“It’s none of your business,” I say. “And I’m not doing anything about it.”
“Nothing except running off with another man. What did you expect Levi to do?”
“I expect him to do what he wants and for you to leave it at that. Otherwise, I’m dropping you off at the corner and you can walk the rest of the way home.”
We ride to her house in silence, but she’s grinning from ear to ear like a school girl with her first crush. I’m about to upchuck a lunch I haven’t even eaten yet.
“Come in and tell me about this new job of yours.”
I look at Mojo. Unless he did the talking, I have no idea how she knows about the job, but I know she always does. The crazy old woman can read my mind, and I figure that’s probably why she’s crazy.
We sit at the kitchen table and she makes tea so she can spread out the grounds, which she can’t see to read. Still, she’ll read them.
“What’s the name of the place you’re going?”
“I’m not sure I’m going yet. But if I do, the place is called Shem Bay, Oregon.”
“Shame,” she says.
The Shem Bay Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 3) Page 2
