Ghosted on the Gulf Coast (Gulf Coast Paranormal Trilogy Book 1)

by M. L. Bullock

  She’d loved every minute of it. And she’d done whatever it took to get there.

  Somehow, I knew she was there, watching us. Waiting to see if we dared step up on her stage. That’s what we should do!

  “Wait, Sierra. I think we need to go up there. Estella might not want us on her stage, but she needs to know it’s not hers anymore. She might have starred on it once, but she has to share with others now,” I said quite loudly. I felt bold and a bit ticked off for some reason.

  “Are you okay, Cassidy?” Sierra flashed the camera at me.

  I wasn’t. I felt angry, irritated, and the feeling was growing. “Let’s go.” We walked to the side of the stage, hidden behind the heavy curtains. So, these weren’t merely prop curtains. They appeared to be fully functioning stage curtains, with a power switch and everything. “I want to try something,” I said to her as she walked up behind me on the steps.

  “What?”

  “I want to lower the curtains and then take the stage. Maybe that will encourage her to come out if she sees someone else about to take her spotlight.”

  “You don’t think that will tweak her nose a bit too much, Cassidy? I’m not a big fan of poking spirits. It never works out well. And if it turns out we’re encountering an inhuman spirit, that makes it even worse.”

  “I think it’s exactly what we need to do. She’s here now. She’s watching us.”

  “Yeah, I can feel eyes on me too. All right. Tell you what, I’ll lower the curtains, you step out, and I’ll be in the audience clapping for you.”

  “That should work.”

  A few minutes later I was standing behind the curtain. I heard Sierra’s fast footsteps as the curtain began to rise. But no, that couldn’t be right. She was already in the seat. “Okay, Sierra, you have to announce me.”

  “I’m coming! Just give me a second.” My head swung around in the direction of her voice and back to the seat that was now empty.

  “What the heck?” I whispered, but Sierra didn’t notice my confusion.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, now presenting the best singer in the world, Cassidy Wright!” She began to clap, and I took a bow.

  As I stood upright I felt a burning sensation in my back. “Oh God,” I said as I gripped my back and turned around to face whatever horror stood behind me. Of course, there was no one there. At least no one I could see, but the pain was real and the message obvious.

  Get the hell out!

  Estella Winters hadn’t shown her figure or her face, but she made her presence known. Painfully.

  Chapter Eight—Midas

  Sierra and Cassidy raced back to our temporary HQ in Norman’s office, and Josh wasted no time in reviewing the film. There were quite a few red scratch marks on Cassidy’s back, and I could tell they hurt like heck. “Well, I think you tweaked her nose. Mission accomplished, Cassidy,” Sierra said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

  Jack broke out the first aid kit. I quickly took it from him and dabbed the antibacterial cream on her back. You could plainly see a handprint now, not just scratches. No, not just a handprint. It was like someone had branded her. The red marks were deepening, and I could see small bumps rising. I kept applying the cream while Sierra took a half dozen pictures. This was one of the worst “ghost touches” I’d seen. I’d always believed these wounds were delivered by inhuman spirits; now I wasn’t too sure.

  “Ow!” Cassidy said with a half laugh as I rubbed on the cream. “My skin is on fire!” She twisted around to look.

  “Be still. Let Sierra finish taking a few more pictures, and then you can see it. It’s not as bad as some I’ve seen, but it is bad enough. I think it’s safe to say we have activity happening in the auditorium.”

  “And the ladies’ room, but I’m not sure if those two are related.” Sierra snapped away with the camera and then handed it to Cassidy.

  “Man, she got me good. I guess that will teach me to be sassy to spirits.”

  “I tried to tell you, Cassidy.” Sierra frowned even deeper.

  “I know, but I had to try. I want to go back in,” Cassidy said with a frown of her own. “I’m sure I can get her to talk.”

  I didn’t agree. Cassidy was already sporting a handprint. Obviously, she had no idea how rare that was, but instead of freaking her out, the experience seemed to get her adrenaline pumping. “Let’s put some distance between you and Estella Winters for the moment. Jack and I will go in, and then maybe the three of you can go back in before we leave. If it’s safe.”

  “Roger that,” Sierra said as she helped Cassidy adjust her clothes. But she gave me an unhappy look. “Cassidy and I will go over the recordings. See what we missed.”

  “Hey guys, we’ve got movement in the auditorium. The REM pod is freaking out. See it flashing?” Jack was pointing at the screen and grinning. Any worries he had earlier had disappeared. Yeah, this guy was a paranormal activity junkie. And so was Cassidy. I don’t know why, but that totally surprised me.

  “I didn’t set up any REM pods in there. Did you?” I asked Josh.

  “Ladies?”

  “Nope. Not us.”

  “Then what the hell is that light flashing?” Jack pointed to the screen. We could all see it now. It was at the bottom of the stage, swirling around the front.

  “Let’s go find out. Come on, Jack.” I grabbed a few things, and Jack and I walked toward the auditorium.

  “Midas to Josh. You guys hear us?”

  “Yeah, we gotcha. Light is still flashing, but it’s less consistent and lower to the ground. It’s almost like it’s running out of juice. Get in there quick!”

  “What’s the plan then?” Jack asked me.

  “I say if Estella wants to put on a show, let her. Let’s photograph and record. Our priority is to collect evidence.”

  Jack grinned at that. “I think we have caught plenty of that tonight.” As we walked into the dark theater, I held the camera in front of me. I saw the light flash; it was a whitish gray color, about the size of an apple now and bouncing—no. Make that flashing, slowly.

  “What the hell is that? A reflection from somewhere?” I spun around and looked up in the balcony. I’d completely forgotten about that area. Maybe it could be a light shining down from up there, but wouldn’t that be a steady light and not one that looked like the bouncing ball in a child’s sing-along video?

  Then it disappeared. “Dang it!” Jack exclaimed under his breath.

  “We’re here to see the show,” I called out in a loud voice. “We want to see Estella Winters. Is she singing tonight?” To Jack, I whispered, “Let’s take our seats like we’re ticket holders. Hey, do you have that ticket you found earlier?”

  “Yeah!” Jack pulled the paper ticket out of his jacket pocket and raised it above his head. “Hey! We have a ticket, and we expect to see a show.”

  “Did you hear that? Sounded like a shush or someone saying hush.”

  Jack tilted his head quizzically and listened. “Nope, I didn’t hear it.”

  I didn’t hear anything else for a few minutes. Often during these quiet times, I talk about the potential spirits that might be present. Usually, it’s just repeating stuff we already know, but at times it is enough to get the ball rolling. People don’t like you talking about them, even dead people. Provocation had worked for Cassidy. I knew Sierra and Josh weren’t fans of that method, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

  “I heard that Estella Winters didn’t even finish her first run with Fortunato’s Spring. Who was her understudy, I wonder? Do you think she was any good?”

  Jack smiled into the dark. I could see him on camera—he knew exactly what I was doing. He wore his dark hair spiked up, kind of a hair fashion throwback, but who was I to judge? He opened his mouth to say something when his expression changed. “Something just touched my neck.”

  “You kidding? Does it hurt?” I switched the camera to the IR setting and had him turn around. Yep, there was definitely a half handprint on his neck. I hit record
. “You are never going to believe this.”

  “I don’t feel anything now. It was just a touch. Almost like a caress.” I showed him the brief recording, and he shivered and spun around. “Hey, if you’re near me now, would you mind talking to me? Is that you, Estella?”

  No…

  “Did she say no? Was that a male or a female voice?”

  “I couldn’t tell,” I confessed. After a few minutes of nothing else, we decided to try the stage. “You want to go, or should I?”

  “I’ll go. You are the audience member. Wait. Should we do the curtain thing?”

  I took a seat. “No. The curtain has already been raised once tonight. Can you find your way in the dark? Too bad there are no steps out front. Seems like there should be.”

  “Yeah. Hey, do you smell something? Like…funeral flowers.” Jack sniffed the air like a dog picking up a strange scent.

  I sniffed the air too but didn’t smell anything. “No, I don’t.”

  Jack rubbed his fingers along his five o’clock shadow. “All right, give me a second. I’m going up.” He walked down the aisle in front of the stage and disappeared around the corner. I could hear his footsteps as he walked on the stage. “Wow, the view from up here is amazing. Imagine if these walls were knocked out again how much bigger this would be. This is really amazing.”

  “Why don’t you try announcing her and see if she shows up.”

  “Sure,” Jack agreed. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to the Carmichael Theater! Tonight, and for one night only, we have the incredible Jewel of the South, Estella Winters! Please put your hands together, and let’s welcome our local star!” Jack began to clap and move to the side as if someone were really going to step out. Unfortunately, no one did.

  When we saw that we weren’t going to copy the experience Cassidy and Sierra had, we decided to go back to talking about the ghosts. That seemed to work for us. “Jack, I’m going to hand you the camera and let you look around.”

  “Great. Pass it up.”

  I did, and he zoomed in and out around the room as we talked about the history of the theater. Still nothing.

  “Hey, I know what we haven’t tried, Midas. We haven’t played that tune from Fortunato’s Spring, the one with the violin solo. I have it on this digital recorder.”

  “Let’s play it. We’ll put it on the stage and see what happens.”

  Jack set the recorder on the stage and cranked the volume. “Listen to that violin. Such a beautiful tune. Hey, I’m getting something. Looks like a cold spot, just there.” He pointed, but of course I couldn’t tell where he was pointing. “It’s in that seat, the spot where Ginger first saw the woman with the stringy hair.”

  I immediately began to wave the K2 meter and got quite a few spikes. “Hey, if you’re here, we don’t want to harm you. See this? It’s just a way for us to know you’re close. Do you want to touch it? If you touch it…whoa. That was a big bump. Point six. Point eight…”

  “What do you have? It went up to a point seven, now a point six. It’s staying up there.”

  I couldn’t help but wave my hand over the seat. It felt strange, like there was a ball of energy hanging out in seat twelve. Then it vanished. All the meters went quiet and we stood in the auditorium waiting, but nothing else happened.

  “Well, it looks like tonight was ladies’ night. We saw some stuff, and I definitely felt a cold hand on my neck. Let’s go check out the old office. See who might be hanging out in there.”

  “All right. Midas to Josh. We’re leaving the auditorium. Heading to the stage office.”

  “Ten-four,” Sierra piped back.

  I met Jack around the side of the stage, and we headed left to the stage office. “Let’s see if we can recreate the figure in the office. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a mirror in there? Something that would cast a reflection?”

  “I’m down for some debunking,” he said.

  I attempted to open the office door, but it was locked. “Wait, I only have the outside keys. Norman told me that this room would be unlocked. I’m not sure I have a key for it.” I tried all the keys I had, but none of them worked.

  “That’s inconvenient. Can you call him down here? Now I’m dying to get in.”

  “Probably, but with all the activity going on here tonight, I wouldn’t want to do that. He’s nervous enough about having us in the theater. I’ll call him tomorrow. We’ll save the office for tomorrow night’s investigation.”

  “All right, well, where to now?”

  “Let’s get the ladies back in here. See if we can get to the bottom of what’s happening in that auditorium.”

  “You think that’s safe? Cassidy’s already been scratched. Hold on a second. Did you see that? Something passed right in front of us. I could see a head and shoulders.”

  I froze and waited for my eyes to adjust, but I couldn’t see anything. “I missed that. Tell me what you saw in detail.”

  “Not sure…maybe it’s just me. I thought I saw someone pass in front of us. You know, like a head and the left shoulder. He moved from this wall to that wall.”

  “It’s been an exciting night. Maybe we’re just tired and seeing ghosts everywhere. I’m ready to call it a night, but I’m down for letting the ladies walk through one last time. They’ll never forgive us if we don’t.”

  “Sounds good to me. I hope I grabbed that last image. I swear I saw something, Midas, something that looked like a tall man.”

  “Hope so too. I think the proof is there. There’s activity at the Crescent Theater.”

  We stepped out of the auditorium and walked outside. I had the strange feeling that someone was watching us. I turned to look back and waved the camera one last time toward the outer doors of the auditorium. Just in case.

  Who knows? Maybe we’d catch that shadow after all. I could hardly wait to review the evidence.

  Chapter Nine—Cassidy

  Our last trip through the Crescent Theater didn’t stir up a thing. Not even a quiver on the EMF detector. I knew there was a presence around us, and Sierra said she counted three, but we just couldn’t make them appear. No matter how much we coaxed or antagonized, nobody came out to play. But my back burned, reminding me that I had indeed contacted the spirit world. It felt like someone had thrown hot water on me, only ten times worse. But I kept my game face on.

  During our walk back in, Sierra let me know she wasn’t happy with the way things had gone earlier. “In no way do I want you to put yourself in danger again, Cassidy. No provoking Estella or whoever or whatever is lingering here. Let’s keep things cool.”

  “All right,” I agreed. I didn’t want to experience ever again what I had gone through earlier. But the point was kind of moot. Nothing else happened.

  We headed home around two. Midas made us all promise to show up early ready to review the tapes and recordings. He and I were careful not to touch one another or appear too friendly, but I could sense Sierra watching us. At one point she even whispered to me, “You guys are so cute.”

  I played dumb, but I couldn’t help but press my lips together to prevent an obvious smile. She patted my back and then apologized when I winced in pain. “Oops. Forgot about your ghost wounds. You’re now an official paranormal investigator, with the wounds to prove it.”

  “Nice, but I was happy with just a t-shirt. See you later.” I left the office behind and made the quick drive home. Ten minutes later I was in my apartment and getting ready for bed. I was exhausted and not accustomed to the late-night investigations. I didn’t know how these guys did it all the time and held down a day job too.

  I fell asleep quickly, but it didn’t last long. I woke up with my back burning and my heart racing. I lay on my stomach and stared at the clock. 4:45. Way too early to be up. I’d had just a couple hours of sleep, and I was feeling it. I snuggled deeper into my bed, hoping weariness would usher me back to dreamland, but it didn’t happen. In fact, an image grew in my mind. Estella. She wasn’t on the stage but
outside the theater on the other side of the street.

  Sliding to the edge of the bed, I reached for my sleep shirt and shimmied back into it. I’d taken it off during the night because it hurt every time the material rubbed my scratch. The pain had diminished some now, thankfully. My feet searched for my slippers, and like a faithful servant I obediently walked to her canvas. With brush in hand I waited. I didn’t have to wait long.

  *****

  I stood across the street, hoping the dust from the road settled soon so that I might see my name being placed on the marquee. It was a singular honor that I planned to enjoy to the fullest. I had accomplished what no other Winters had. I was the star of a major production, and once the show completed its run here in two weeks, the company would travel. First to New Orleans and then westward. Oh, to be out of Mobile! To see the world! This had been my greatest desire. Perhaps second greatest, but as obtaining the first was no longer an option for me, this would do nicely.

  And there it was—my name on the marquee. Just as promised. Estella Winters as Lady Spring! My hands flew to my mouth, and I resisted the urge to jump up and down like a child. Despite my misgivings at trusting Martin Hankins, he had delivered on his promise.

  “Trust me, my dear Estella. I’ll make you famous.” And so he had.

  My smile vanished, for I knew I now had to deliver on my promise. It would be easy enough. It was early in the afternoon, and my brother would be at the bank. Brent’s routine never wavered; even when his wife was deathly sick, he had refused to relinquish his role as bank manager and had only taken the day off for her quick funeral. There would be no one home now except his doting manservant, Randall Crane, who was easy enough to avoid. The old man’s hearing had gone, and his eyesight was not much better. With our sister Wendy traveling to Florida for her health and Anna out of the house now—on the arm of my former fiancé—I could easily slip into Brent’s office and gather the papers Martin had requested.

  This was betrayal at the highest level. If discovered, Brent would not hesitate to summon the constable. I would have to be sure that he never knew I was there.