The Blackham Mansion Haunting (The Downwinders Book 4)

by Michael Richan

  “Henry,” Mary said quietly. “I think we should stop.”

  “Silence,” Henry whispered back. “The spirits must know we are intent. Show no hesitancy.”

  “Henry,” Mary repeated. “I see him again. The intruder. Someone’s in the room with us.”

  Lorenzo saw the quick movement, the shift in shadow behind people at the far end of the table, a blur that slid from right to left very rapidly, momentarily blocking the reflection of moonlight from a glass clock on the mantle.

  “Turn on the lights, Harry!” Lorenzo said. “Now!”

  He heard Harry sigh loudly. “These interruptions will only serve to…”

  The lights went on mid-sentence, and Mary screamed.

  Two more were missing from around the table.

  “This must be a game, some kind of joke,” Henry said, looking around the room. “Someone is having fun at our expense. Who else is in on this?”

  “It’s no game, Harry!” Mary cried back. “They’ve been taken, just like Abraham! Bingham was here, in the room with us! Why can’t you believe that?”

  “Come on,” Lorenzo said, standing. “We’ve got to hunt for Joseph and Althea!”

  They organized a search, similar to the previous evening. After a half hour of calling names into the darkness outside, and a thorough search of the inside, they came to gather back in the central room, around the table.

  “This cannot be happening,” Henry said, looking around the room in desperation.

  “Maybe Jacob was right,” said Espy Farnsworth. “Maybe we shouldn’t have gone ahead with the séance. Perhaps we were opening ourselves up to Bingham, handing ourselves over like lambs to the slaughter.”

  Henry wiped his hand across his mouth. “I don’t know what to do,” he said to the group. “How do we proceed?”

  “We must reach the Sheriff,” Mary said. “He needs to be informed.”

  “And tell him what?” Langford asked. “That Joseph and Althea just disappeared into thin air?”

  “This must be reported!” Mary replied. “Three people are gone! If we fail to inform the Sheriff, we may all come under suspicion!”

  “I suspect we’ll all be suspects, regardless,” Henry replied. “The town isn’t exactly supportive of our meetings here.”

  “We’re done for the night?” Espy asked. “I think we may be done for a while.”

  “No,” Henry replied. “Yes. Yes, we’re done for tonight. But no, we must meet again tomorrow.”

  “I will not participate again!” Mary replied. “I’m not going to offer myself to Bingham!”

  “Not to séance,” Henry replied. “Just to gather and exchange information. We need to keep in contact, in case one of the others is found. Let’s not operate on the gossip the town spreads. We will need to remain solidly together, firm in our union as a group, if we wish to survive whatever scrutiny these disappearances might bring our way. Please, don’t abandon our mission just yet. Come tomorrow. Emma will prepare food — we’ll discuss whatever news has developed, and put our brains together to try and solve things. What do you say? Yes?”

  Several in the group nodded in response, while others seemed to be weighing Henry’s proposal.

  “Lorenzo?” Henry asked. “You and Jacob will come, provided he’s returned? I’m sure the group would like to hear from Jacob, listen to why he felt we shouldn’t contact the other side. You’ll come, will you?”

  “As long as there’s no séance, yes, I’ll come,” Lorenzo replied. “I’ll tell Jacob, but I can’t speak for him.”

  “Of course, of course,” Henry said. People were beginning to leave, lined up at the coatrack.

  “I’m sure there will be a sensible explanation that will relieve our concerns,” Henry said as people filed out. “Come back tomorrow, and we’ll see what has developed. With God’s aid, I’m sure we’ll have good news.”

  ▪ ▪ ▪

  A new face appeared at the house the next night. While chatting with the others prior to the start of their gathering, Lorenzo watched as Henry welcomed Bartholomew Stewart, the county Sheriff, through the front door.

  Jacob leaned closer to him. “Someone in the group turned us in,” he said quietly.

  “My guess would be Mary,” Lorenzo whispered back.

  “Come with me to the kitchen, quickly,” Jacob said, a wink of conspiratorial excitement in his eye.

  Lorenzo followed his brother-in-law to the kitchen, where Emma and a second woman were preparing food. They looked very busy, so Jacob pulled Lorenzo to the far corner of the room where they would be out of the women’s way.

  “The séance tonight may be different,” Jacob spoke softly.

  “There isn’t supposed to be a séance tonight,” Lorenzo replied. “Everyone agreed that it was too risky.”

  “My father gave me something I want to try,” Jacob replied, slipping a small metal tin from his pocket, showing it to Lorenzo.

  “What is it?”

  “I haven’t got the time to explain right now, but I think it will solve the disappearances. If the group resists a séance, we must try to convince them to proceed, so I can experiment and see if it works.”

  Henry appeared at the doorway and approached them. He looked anxious. “There you are! Sheriff Stewart has asked to be introduced to each member of the group, and you’re the last two. Can you come back with the others so we can proceed, please?”

  “Did you invite him here?” Lorenzo asked Henry.

  “Of course not!” Henry whispered back. “It must have been Mary. But now that we’re under the magnifying glass, so to speak, we must appear innocent, and you two whispering in the kitchen doesn’t help matters!”

  They followed Henry back into the central room. The others were milling around the table. Normally by now they’d all be seated at it, preparing for a session, but no one wanted to sit with the Sheriff walking amongst them.

  “Ah! Brother Lyman!” the Sheriff said, his voice rising as he said it. Lorenzo detected the deference in the man’s voice, an automatic respect granted family members of an apostle in the church. They shook hands. “And who is this?”

  “Sheriff Stewart, this is my brother-in-law, Jacob Leavitt.”

  “I’ve never met you, so it’s nice to meet you now, Brother Leavitt,” the Sheriff said, extending his hand to Jacob.

  “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sheriff,” Jacob said as he took the man’s hand. “You here to observe our gathering?”

  “Well, about that,” the Sheriff said, dropping Jacob’s hand and turning to face the group. “It’s come to my attention that a few members of your group have gone missing. Brothers Abraham Stoddard and Joseph Naegle, and Sister Althea Rowley, to be precise. None of them are at their homes, and their families are concerned. It’s also come to my attention that they were here just prior to their disappearance. Is that true?”

  “It’s true,” Mary offered. “Abraham was here with us two nights ago. He disappeared that night. And last night Joseph and Althea also disappeared.”

  Lorenzo saw Henry eyeing Mary with disgust and anger. He also saw that Sheriff Stewart noticed Henry’s reaction.

  “I assume none of you care to dispute Sister Pingree’s account?” the Sheriff said. “Brother Blackham, you agree with it?”

  Henry looked troubled, reticent to speak. With all eyes upon him, however, he had no choice but to offer his opinion. “I do,” he replied. “It is true. As to their whereabouts, I assure you that…”

  “I understand you conduct satanic trances here,” the Sheriff said, cutting him off. “Here, around this table, if I’m correct. Is that right, Brother Farnsworth?”

  Espy looked startled to hear the Sheriff single him out. “Not satanic, Sheriff.”

  “Well, are they of God?” the Sheriff asked. “Are you trying to contact God when you sit at this table as a group, praying?”

  “No, we’re…” Espy started, but the Sheriff cut him off, too.

  “No! You’re n
ot trying to contact God! If not God, then it must be the devil. It’s one or the other, isn’t it? Are you trying to summon the devil here, Brother Orton?”

  “We try to contact the dead,” Langford told the Sheriff. “Not the devil.”

  “Oh,” the Sheriff replied. “The dead. I see. Would that include Abraham Stoddard? Are you trying to contact Brother Abraham, Jonas? Did you try to contact Abraham last night?”

  Jonas seemed surprised to be singled out as well. “We were trying to find out what happened to Abraham.”

  “So you must have thought Abraham was dead, since that’s what you do here, isn’t it? Contact the dead?”

  “No, it’s not that way,” Henry interjected.

  “And while you were trying to contact the dead Abraham,” the Sheriff continued, “Joseph Naegle and Althea Rowley both died, is that it?”

  “They disappeared!” Henry said. “We have no idea if they’re dead or not.”

  “It’s fascinating to me, personally,” the Sheriff said, “that grown men and women such as yourselves would sit here, night after night, wasting your time, trying to make contact with deceased individuals. We already know what happens in the next life, do we not, Brother Blackham? Have we not learned that from the prophet, and hear it every Sunday from President Woodruff and the leaders of our great church? With that knowledge, it seems odd to me, and to most of the members of this community, that you would all choose to meet here as you do, attempting to pierce the veil. The veil is in the temple, is it not? Not here in your house, Brother Blackham. If I were your bishop, sir, I would be looking into this dark habit of yours.”

  “My interest in Spiritualism in no way impedes my faith, Sheriff Stewart!” Henry replied with conviction. “It merely adds to it.”

  “If there’s more to be added,” the Sheriff replied, “I look to the presidency of the church to provide it, as is their privilege, not to the corpses in the ground next door. That is what you do, is it not? Attempt to speak with the bodies of the deceased in the cemetery just west of here? Seems a rather perverted and obscene idea, if I say so.”

  “It is not!” Langford spoke up. “What we do here is decent and spiritual. You have no idea how wrong you are, Sheriff!”

  “Decent and spiritual?” the Sheriff replied. “Three people missing, and you say this is a decent and spiritual endeavor?”

  “Let us show you!” Jacob offered. “We’ll conduct a séance right now, and you can see for yourself the innocent nature of it.”

  “I won’t!” Mary said. “I won’t be part of it again.”

  “You can observe with the Sheriff,” Jacob replied. “Stand in the corner of the room and watch.”

  “Don’t!” Mary said to the Sheriff. “If Bingham comes, we’ll be sitting ducks! He’ll pluck us away as easily as he took the others!”

  “Sister Pingree is under the impression that the recently buried murderer, Willard Bingham, is responsible for the disappearances,” Henry told the Sheriff.

  “Yes, I know,” the Sheriff answered. “She and I have spoken at length about what goes on here. She has her opinion of the cause of the disappearances, but I have other suspicions. The crimes I look into usually have simple explanations. Having watched as the earth was piled over Willard Bingham, I doubt his involvement.”

  “You suspect one of us,” Henry offered.

  “I’ve known most of you for years, so I find it hard to suspect any of you,” the Sheriff answered. “Then again, when good people dabble with the devil, who knows what can happen.”

  “This isn’t anything satanic,” Jacob offered. “Let us show you.”

  “I would like to see what you do here,” the Sheriff replied. “It might enlighten me, particularly if you will re-create what you did the last two nights.”

  “It’s always the same,” Henry said. “We sit around the table, and I turn off the lights.”

  The group began to move toward the seats of the table, Mary hanging back, walking to the Sheriff and taking his arm.

  “This is not a good idea,” Mary said to the Sheriff.

  “I intend to observe, Sister Pingree,” the Sheriff said to her, patting her hand, “so that I may discern the true nature of these proceedings and claims. I am armed, so be calm.”

  The others took their positions around the table, and Henry moved to the gas light switch. Once they were all seated, he asked, “Is everyone positioned comfortably?”

  No response was given, and Henry doused the lights, plunging the room into darkness. They heard the sound of Henry’s chair pulled from the table, as he joined the others. Then they heard the sound of a match striking.

  A flame danced in front of the Sheriff, and he brought the match to a candle he produced, igniting the wick.

  “We usually operate in the dark,” Henry said.

  “The dark is a convenient cover for mischiefs and criminals,” the Sheriff said, shaking out the match and lowering the candle. “Tonight you will proceed with at least this much light.”

  “Very well, but I cannot assure the outcome,” Henry replied.

  “Our outcomes were never assured,” Lorenzo added.

  “When Bingham arrives, I intend to know his whereabouts!” Mary said, her voice quivering. She held onto the Sheriff tighter.

  “Now then,” the Sheriff said. “Please continue, Brother Blackham.”

  Henry cleared his throat and let the room become quiet once again. After a few moments, he began a familiar call to the spirits, one the group had heard many times. After the call, the room once again fell to silence, and they waited.

  Lorenzo glanced at Jacob. He was seated to his right, next to Peter Call and Langford Orton. Jacob was looking back at him, smiling. I wonder what Jacob has planned, he thought, then broke his gaze and closed his eyes, not wanting to appear too different from the others around the table while the Sheriff was watching.

  The silence continued for a few more minutes, and Henry repeated the call, asking for those who had news of Abraham, Joseph or Althea to come forward and share their knowledge. After, silence again enveloped the room, and they waited.

  Lorenzo had just opened his eyes when he felt the tingle at his spine. This time, the signal caused him alarm instead of excited anticipation. Something was about to happen, and he felt fear rising in his chest, making it feel tight. He took a deep breath to try and relieve the tension.

  Then a breeze blew through the room. The entire group seemed startled by it, having never experienced such a phenomenon before, and Lorenzo looked once again to Jacob just as Mary screamed and the light from the Sheriff’s candle flickered.

  Standing behind Jacob and Peter was a tall man with wild eyes. His hair was disheveled, and his face contorted into a smile that exposed missing teeth. His hands landed on the men’s shoulders just as the light extinguished, plunging the room into darkness.

  Mary screamed again, and was joined by outbursts from some of the men around the table. There was fumbling as chairs were pushed back, and after a few seconds Henry turned on the lights. Peter and Jacob were gone. The Sheriff had his pistol drawn, and was already running around the table to the kitchen. Others followed him.

  The Sheriff ran out the back door and into the yard, where he began a thorough search, ordering Langford and Jonas to assist him. The search progressed throughout all the yards of the mansion, and eventually the Sheriff came back inside, demanding to see each room of the house. He carefully inspected each closet and bureau. After a half hour of searching, he stopped.

  “You saw him, did you not?” Mary asked the Sheriff. “You saw Bingham.”

  “It certainly looked like him,” the Sheriff replied.

  “His hands were on their shoulders,” Lorenzo said. “Did any of you see that? He was touching them.”

  “I saw it,” Espy offered. “It was Bingham, of that I’m sure.”

  “It was someone who looked like him,” the Sheriff replied. “Bingham is six feet under.”

  “You see tha
t it was none of us!” Henry said. “None of us were involved with this.”

  “I know no such thing!” the Sheriff replied. “There may be a conspiracy here. More will have to be uncovered before I know it all, but I intend to find out! I’m sending you all home now, but none of you are to leave your homes or places of work until you hear from me. You will go about your normal daily routines. If any of you take off, I’ll consider that an admission of guilt and I will have you tracked down, you hear me?”

  There was a murmur of assent through the group.

  “Good,” the Sheriff said. “Consider your group disbanded, Brother Blackham, by order of the county. No one is to gather here for another séance under any circumstances. Now go on home. Go be with your families, where you should have been tonight instead of here, practicing this wickedness. Go on, get on home! All of you!”

  Lorenzo found his coat, his heart heavy. Jacob was gone, just like the others, and he felt helpless to do anything about it. He dreaded having to tell Tabitha the news. His only hope was that whatever Jacob had planned, it might save him from Bingham. And maybe, if he was lucky, it could save the others, too. As he recalled Bingham’s wild, rabid eyes, he feared the worst for his brother-in-law.

  Chapter Ten

  In the two weeks since the night Jacob was lost, Tabitha had become increasingly despondent. Lorenzo had tried to comfort her, but she was angry with him for having dabbled in Spiritualism, and her opinions, having been at one time supportive, now switched to align with the town, considering the séances at the Blackham mansion to have been evil in nature and the likely cause of their missing relatives.

  Lorenzo had reviewed in his mind Jacob’s final words in the kitchen that night, hoping he might find in them something encouraging. The more Lorenzo thought it through, the more convinced he became that Jacob may still be alive, trying to execute some plan. It occurred to him that Jacob might need assistance, and Lorenzo began to plot ways that he might help Jacob. If he were to enter the River at the Blackham mansion, perhaps trance there as well, he might be able to contact Jacob and the others who were missing. There was a chance he could help, or at least discover what had happened to them. The Sheriff’s order forbidding a séance didn’t preclude him visiting Henry and Emma on a social call. He decided to go there in the middle of the day, when no one would suspect that his arrival would be for an evening séance.