by Alexie Aaron
“I’m surprised you’re not with them.”
“Odors don’t sit well me, Beverly. Aromas yes, but sulfurous rotting stinks I can do without. Besides, I would miss lunch with you. What a treat.”
Bev colored just a little. She was attracted to her dining partner, this was true. They had even enjoyed many years of fornication before he brought up the mention of marriage. She would never be married, not in this country anyway. To be tied to a man, any man, being obliged to serve food or wash a plate, disgusted her. She didn’t care if she died alone and destitute. Bev would die, free of remembering birthdays and having holidays with the relatives. She recognized that this wasn’t normal behavior, but Bev wasn’t a normal person. From early on she knew she was different. She could hear and see things others could only imagine.
Her father and brother suspected that she had Grandma Fred’s abilities, and they did everything in their power to suppress her. They demeaned her by ignoring her tales, making her feel less and unwanted. They soured her on men. Not even a beautiful specimen like Angelo Michaels would tempt Bev to acquiesce to forming a bond, legal or otherwise, with one of that gender.
“Gerald, you are turning my head.”
“Better to see more of you, my dear,” he growled seductively.
Bev leaned over and brushed her lips near his ear, ready to suggest they skip lunch and head up to his apartment, when her phone vibrated, breaking the spell. She sat back down and pulled it out of her cashmere cardigan pocket. Looking down she read back and smiled. “Our dove is back in her coop.”
“Now you can relax,” Gerald said, hiding his disappointment of what the text had interrupted. Looking up, he saw that their waiter approached, his tray loaded with food enough to feed a small village. “Our meals have arrived, my dear.”
Bev smiled, eased back in her chair and smoothed her napkin in her lap. She enjoyed food just as much as she enjoyed fighting with Gerald Shem.
Chapter Four
Susan waited for Mark on the porch of his brother’s house. Her husband, in his Sir Galahad mode, insisted that he check the place for dangers before allowing her to cross the threshold. She wondered what had sent the family fleeing from this beautiful, new colonial-style home. The babble about a rocking chair and Great Grandma Hofmann confused her. Sure, there were always teases and dares, when the Hofmann clan gathered, about this woman, but she thought it had always been due to the imaginations of the boys when they were young.
Mark opened the door and shook his head. “It’s a mess in here. Are you sure you want to come in?”
“I promised Marjorie to bring her back some things she needs…” her voice fell away as the condition of the front room shocked her.
The floor was thick with broken glass and bent picture frames. Potpourri scattered everywhere, their expensive receptacles had been pulverized. She reached into her purse retrieving her cell phone and calmly pulled up the camera application. She started taking pictures. As she moved through the house, the camera helped to shield her from the emotional devastation that permeated each room. Sunlight streamed through the windows. The blinds had been ripped off and the curtains shredded.
“I am lost for words,” Mark said, taking her elbow to help her over the fallen chairs as she moved into the dining alcove. He pointed out the family silverware that stuck out of the painted drywall. “What kind of force could do that? It’s like a tornado went through here.”
Susan put down her camera phone for a moment and turned to her husband. Has anything like this happened before? To your mom and dad?” she questioned.
He shook his head. They turned around and stared back through the devastation they had just walked through. Everything was ruined except for one corner of the room. There the carpet was clean, the walls free of shards of glass, and the afghan she had knitted for Marjorie last Christmas was draped beautifully across the back of Grandma Hofmann’s rocking chair.
She took a picture of the chair. Moving forward carefully, she stared, daring it to move. In the light of day even the most skittish of persons found their nerve. The chair rocked easily as Susan put her hand on one of the carved finials at the top of the rocker’s back. “It’s such a pretty thing,” she said to her husband who had already left the room. On the chair the e-book lit up. Susan reached for it, looking at the screen as she picked it up. She thought about turning it off as the battery was low but changed her mind. Somehow, it seemed wrong to do this. She put it back down and the screen faded to black once again.
The air of the garage was fetid and sour. Mark pressed the button for the opener and watched as the door lifted. George’s car was, as he described it, full of rotting dog shit. The driver’s door was open, and a full highball glass sat on the roof left a ring on the polished exterior.
“Honey,” Susan’s voice called from the doorway. “Everything okay?”
He looked over at her and raised his arms. “Um, if you call a car full of shit okay.” He made such a weird face that it caused his wife to laugh. He couldn’t help but laugh himself. It helped him to feel better and ease the tension. Mark walked over to his wife and opened his arms.
She walked into his embrace, ignoring the stench that seemed to cling to him. They laughed again, closed the garage door, and walked back into the house.
The couple moved together through the rooms, taking photos before righting furniture, cleaning as they went. The staircase was a pity. All of Marjorie’s hard work was trashed. Susan remembered the woman talking excitedly as she explained how she used a lazar level to align the photos perfectly. Now all that could be seen of the hard work of the lady of the house were tiny penciled exes and bent hanging nails.
The master suite was virtually untouched with the exception of the mess that Marjorie herself made when she tore things from drawers in her haste. Susan pulled out her list and began putting items on the bed to be packed before they left.
Mark was in the nursery with his back to the door. He didn’t want his wife in this room. The violence it must have taken to churn the wooden cribs to sawdust frightened him. He produced his phone and took a few shots before sliding out of the door, closing it firmly behind him.
“What are you doing?” Susan asked as she witnessed his escape from the room. “We have a list of things the boys need.”
“We will buy it all new. No one is going to want anything that has been in there on their child,” Mark insisted.
“That bad?” she asked, handing him the suitcase she filled.
“Worse, a hundred times worse,” he said gravely.
“Are we sure that this wasn’t just a big domestic fight between George and Marjorie. I mean the man has been screwing around for ages. She probably found out and filled his car with shit. He in turn tore the pictures off the wall, and she retaliated by breaking his trophies…” her voice trailed off as they stood in the foyer looking into the front room.
“Who are we kidding?” Mark said, with thoughts of the nursery. He still had the images of every doll or stuffed animal with their eyes torn out of their heads, burned into his retinas.
And to underline his point, the chair began to rock. Susan snapped a picture before Mark pushed her behind him, to shield her as he opened the door to leave. The heat of the sun did little to free the couple of the chill they were experiencing. They ran to the car and didn’t speak until they were miles away from the house. Mark pulled the car over and looked Susan in the eyes. “We’re in trouble here. There is no way that was a domestic brouhaha.”
Susan handed him her phone and pointed to the picture in the viewer. “I have to agree with you, Sherlock.”
Mark picked up the phone and stared at the picture captured in it. There was Great Grandma Hofmann calmly rocking in her chair reading an e-book.
Chapter Five
Mia stretched and glanced at the clock. Her afternoon delight with Burt had left her sated and sleepy. He was wonderfully attentive and didn’t let his bulk get in the way of their enjoying each oth
er.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said opening one eye.
“I was just thinking that I love a flexible man.”
“You mean you just loved a flexible man,” he corrected before letting out a dirty laugh. His laugh was infectious and soon Mia joined him.
“You are a horrible tease.”
“Yes and…”
“A great lover.”
“Come on, what do I have to do to get the greatest lover badge?”
This brought a dirty laugh from Mia. She rolled out of his reach and got to her feet. “It’s almost four, I’m hungry and the cupboards are bare.” She looked at him and pouted.
“We can’t have you starving. Are we going out or bringing in?” Burt patted his fleshy stomach. “Although, I think I better put some vegetables in this body. The last investigation was a deep-fried fast food orgy.”
“I’m shocked. Are you turning vegan on me?” Mia teased as she pulled a PEEPs t-shirt over her bare body.
“No, I said I could use some vegetables.”
“Fries?”
“No, maybe a salad.”
“Real men don’t eat salads,” Mia insisted.
“This man does, not a lot, but I do appreciate a well-made salad.”
“Do you want me to make you a salad?”
Burt wrinkled up his face remembering that Mia’s idea of a salad was hacking a head of lettuce in four and dumping salad dressing over it. She called it a wedge salad. He called it agony on a plate. “No, thank you, let’s hit the road and let the chef feed us over at Roberto’s.”
“Oooh, pricey.” Mia decided if they were going to Roberto’s, she’d better shower. She blew kisses at Burt as she headed into the bathroom.
Burt heard the shower turn on and waited a moment before he was sure she was occupied before getting up and walking over to his duffle bag. He reached deep inside and pulled out a little, black velvet box. He opened it and smiled at the gift he had made for her. He snapped the lid shut and put it in his jacket pocket before padding into the bathroom to play hide the soap with Mia.
~
Beth Bouvier was busy typing up her report when the call came in from Mark Hofmann. It was her turn to be on call for PEEPs, so the interruption didn’t annoy her. She hoped that this wouldn’t be another case of air-conditioning causing the ducts to pop. Summer was in full swing, and this was the season for explaining the normal occurrences of heat and cold to nervous first time home owners. Debunking is what they did. Theodore Martin, Ted to everyone, was the best at coming up with short quick answers. He could debunk over the phone in less than three minutes. She knew that because he timed himself. She on the other hand took the time to listen and commiserate, sometimes going out herself to show the homeowner, if they were local, how to debunk the noises themselves.
Mr. Hofmann was nervous at first, and Beth had to slow him down. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you some questions. Please be patient with me. We at Paranormal Entity Exposure Partners want to help you.”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“Do you mind if I record you?” Beth asked. This usually put the nut jobs off, and they would mumble something foul before hanging up. But Mark gave his consent. She diverted the call through the computer as Ted showed her and brought up her list of standard questions. “Is the haunting in your home?”
“No, it’s my brother’s house.”
“His name,” Beth asked and typed in the basic information. She moved through the list and it seemed rather interesting. A platform rocker. Family heirloom. She went off list. “Have you yourself seen this rocker rock by itself?”
“Yes, as a child and as my wife and I left the house this morning,” he replied.
“If this has been going on for generations, why do you want to deal with it now?”
Mark took a deep breath and related in a play-by-play format all that George and Marjorie had told him. He added in his and Susan’s examination of the place and ended with Susan’s photo on the iPhone.
Beth was ecstatic but kept her voice under control. She didn’t want to blow this. This was a haunting that Mike and Burt would drool over. Ted would pee himself. The data to be collected would be immense. “Mr. Hofmann, would it be possible for your wife to forward a picture to the PEEPs email?”
“What are you going to do with it? I won’t see it on YouTube, will I?”
“No, this is a private investigation until you and PEEPs sign a contract.”
“What is it going to cost me?” Mark asked warily.
Beth was used to the change in callers’ voices. “Sir, this will cost you or your brother nothing. If PEEPs decide on investigating your haunting, it will be free on the contracted consent to air the investigation. Also be aware that the investigation could take anywhere from one to two weeks.”
“When do you want us to send the photo?”
“If you could send it now while I am on the phone, it would save some time.” Beth held her breath.
“Sure, I or, rather, Susan my wife will do it.”
Beth’s heart was pumping hard. She took a deep breath and calmly gave her caller the email address. She sat there and stared at the computer screen willing it to happen, and there it was, the little envelope changed color. She pressed open and the screen filled up with a picture. Before her on the screen was an eighteen century lady reading an e-reader. The e-reader was solid, she was not. The light from the phone’s flash put the rectangular device’s shadow on the back of the chair. If it had been a flesh and blood person sitting there, the shadow would have been on the woman and not the chair. Beth quickly forwarded the photo to Ted’s email.
“Did you receive the photo?” Mr. Hofmann asked.
“Yes, sir. It came through seconds ago. I’m looking at it now,” Beth said struggling to keep her voice even. The envelope popped open again and she read Ted’s response. Is this real? She typed back, yes. Ted responded with IM!
Mr. Hofmann cleared his voice and asked, “What do you think?”
Beth opened a window and fired off the particulars to the techie and waited for Ted’s instant message while answering, “I think that you have a paranormal situation on your hands. I would like to bring the senior partners in on this. When would your family be available?”
“As soon as possible. They are living here with us, and we aren’t set up for a family of four. Our house is a bit snug.”
“I understand. My name is Elizabeth Bouvier. I’m the lead researcher for PEEPs. I will be your primary contact. I’ll text you my phone number. Don’t hesitate to use it. I may suggest that if you can refrain from disturbing the site any more than necessary, it would add validation to your brother’s claims.”
“Oh, don’t worry. No one is going back into that house,” Mark said.
“One last question,” Beth said, ignoring the rapid fire messaging coming from Ted. “How did you hear about PEEPs?”
“My wife Susan found your web page.”
Beth smiled. One for Ted. “I will be contacting one of the partners just as soon as we conclude this phone call. Has your wife received my text yet?”
“Yes. Thank you, Elizabeth.”
“Beth is fine. I will be in touch.” She waited until he hung up before giving her full attention to Ted.
~
Burt marveled at how much food Mia could put into her little frame. She not only ate with gusto but made appreciative noises as she ate. He figured that this was because she spent so much time alone. She had no idea she was breaking any societal rules. He wasn’t going to say anything. Why spoil the evening?
He waited until they ordered desert before presenting the velvet box to her. “Mia,” he said, putting the box in front of her, “You have made me so happy. I wanted to give you something to show how much you mean to me.”
Mia looked down nervously at the tiny black case.
“Go ahead, open it,” he insisted.
Her hands were shaking as she grabbed the box. She opened her mouth a
few times, but no words came out. In her mind she was running out of the restaurant, away from the man who just gave her a ring box. Taking a deep breath she opened the lid. Trying to refrain from a phew or any other relief sounds, she picked up the necklace with a tiny charm of an axe on the end. “Murphy’s axe,” she said tenderly and got up, walked around the table and bent down and kissed him.
“I thought you should have a reminder of the other man in your life.”
She kissed him again. “That’s kind of twisted, but me likey.” She laughed. “Please put it on me.” She turned around, and Burt did his best with ten thumbs to deal with the tiny clasp.
“It’s silver, just in case of…”
“Werewolves or vampires,” she filled in. “I assure you that there aren’t any, not around here anyway.” She danced back to her seat. “No one’s ever given me jewelry before, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Speaking of Murphy, you heard from him yet?”
“I never hear from him, as you very well know, but I saw him a few days ago while you were gone. He is still chopping down trees, and seems settled.”
“Still wants no part of moving on?”
“Nope.”
“Doesn’t he get lonely?” Burt asked.
“Not sure. He has April to watch over, and she lets him watch television. They are into a few reality shows.”
“That cracks me up.” Burt shook his head. He felt his phone vibrate. “Sorry, I just got a message from Beth,” he said looking at the phone. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead,” Mia said distractedly as the waiter arrived, bringing the molten chocolate cake they had ordered to split between them. She watched as the hot chocolate was added and the volcano of chocolate goodness bubbled over the ice cream.
“Burt, you’re missing it.
“Wow,” he said.
Mia looked at him and quizzed, “You’re not looking at the cake, what’s the wow for?”
