by C. F. Fowler
Marion stood still. He couldn’t tell her mood yet. She moved forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek and said, “I don’t think this is the sort of information you’d want to hear. I just need to decompress.”
Gordon watched her. “I understand. I have a hot bath ready for you. The music is playing and a glass of wine is within reach.” He picked up her suitcase and took it into the bedroom. “I am your humble servant, madam.” He picked up a bath towel and bowed to her.
Marion went into the bedroom, opened the suitcase and removed the clothing she felt might wrinkle and proceeded to remove her clothing. When naked, she went over to Gordon, embraced him and kissed him softly, then whispered, “Thank you.”
She went into the bathroom and slid into the tub. Gordon handed her the bath pillow and a wine glass. She laid back and took a sip of wine, closing her eyes to listen to “Clair de Lune.”
After about five minutes, she opened her eyes and looked at Gordon who was sitting on the closed toilet lid.
“There are times, in the course of my work, I hear how horrid humans can be. I wish I didn’t know this and I hate sharing it. No good can come from it.”
Gordon hesitated to carefully choose his next words. “You are the love of my life. I hope one day we will marry and spend the rest of our lives together. I need to know you will honor ‘for better or for worse’ when the time comes.”
Marion closed her eyes again and sipped more wine.
“I had a client whose family home was being haunted. Her family has lived in the house for generations, so she could not understand who would be trying so hard to frighten them out of the house: Books and papers flying around, doors slamming, dishes broken, the whole haunting routine.” Marion took another sip of wine before continuing. “The client’s great-great grandfather lived and raised a family in that house. But before he married her great-great grandmother, he was married to another woman and had a daughter. His first wife died when Bridget was just five. Bridget is the ghost haunting the house.” Marion took another sip of wine as Gordon listened.
“After Bridget’s mother died, her father said he couldn’t care for a little one on his own. He took her to a farm outside of town and told her the family there would care for her. She would need to do the chores assigned to her in payment for this kindness. She would also have to learn her catechism and attend church every Sunday.
“Bridget was cared for but not loved. The other children in the family had chores too, but they received store bought clothes and better food than Bridget. The couple reminded her that her work wasn’t sufficient for anything better.
“Bridget’s father came to see her one Sunday every month and spent the time asking her about her catechism and telling her she needed to work hard to pay her way. After six months, her father stopped by less and less, and after two years he stopped coming at all.”
Marion stopped and sipped more wine. She listened to a track of music she loved, then continued. “Bridget had to wear clothes donated to the church. Very often her shoes didn’t match because she couldn’t find matching shoes. The children at school made fun of her because it was well-known she was a servant, not worthy of friendship.”
Marion sighed. “After 6 years, Bridget was in the last grade of school she would attend. Back then, girls were not considered important to educate. Work was more important, especially when you were a servant. One of the girls at school told Bridget she had seen her dad in town at the drugstore every Sunday afternoon. Bridget figured that had to be a lie because he would come visit her if her could, but she felt she had to check it out for herself.
“She told the couple caring for her she was going to stay after church on Sunday to help the nuns. After church she walked to the drugstore and watched for her father. After an hour she saw him walking with a woman and three kids, a boy and two girls. She went in the shop and the ice cream clerk mentioned it would not be Sunday unless he and his lovely wife and children came in for ice cream. Bridget couldn’t believe her ears. She ran out of the shop and across the street, crying. When she saw him leave the shop, she followed them home, to her home. She remembered the tree her mother planted in the front yard.
“She went to the front door and knocked. Her father opened the door and instead of being happy to see her, he became angry. He took her out to his car and put her in the backseat. He drove her back to the farm telling her the whole way that he would have her put in an orphanage if she didn’t honor the deal with the couple caring for her.
“When they got to the farm, he took her by the arm and pulled her to the front door of the house. When the man answered the door he asked Bridget what she had been up to. Her father told him she knocked on his door. Then he spanked her. She had never been hit before. He told the couple she had it too good and needed more discipline and he didn’t want her near his family again.”
Marion stopped and finished the wine in her glass. She handed the empty glass to Gordon, who got up and refilled it. When he returned, Marion took another sip before continuing.
“Bridget was no longer allowed to go anywhere but school and church. She was the laughing stock at school. It turns out the girl who told her about her dad knew he remarried. She was given more work and less food. At her father’s suggestion, Bridget was brutally disciplined regularly for the least infraction — usually in the barn where the couple’s other children wouldn’t see what their parents were doing. They would tell her what they did was far less than what the nuns would do to her in the orphanage.
“After the school year, Bridget only left the farm to go to church. Once she turned 16, she ran away. She married a fisherman and raised a family. She never forgot about that other family living in her house. When she died she went there, determined to make those in her house pay for trying to claim what was hers.”
Marion drank some more wine and Gordon said, “I don’t blame her.”
“My client said her great-great grandfather was an abusive man. He screamed at and beat his second wife and his kids. She said there was a generation or two that drank excessively and abused their family as well. She said her father overcame this and tried his best to protect her and her siblings from abuse by other family members. Many had substance abuse problems and one of her uncles beat one of his kids to death in an alcohol-induced fury.”
Marion closed her eyes. “The client said she went to the graveyard once a month to spit on her great-great grandfather’s grave. She didn’t blame Bridget and told her she could have the house.”
Marion opened her eyes and looked at Gordon. She had tears in her eyes. He moved over to the tub and sat on the side as Marion finished the story.
“Bridget apologized and faded away. I think she left. She didn’t know the hell the other family went through living with that tyrant. How can anyone treat their own child like that?”
She opened her arms and reached for Gordon. He embraced her, bath-salted water and all. They held each other for a couple of minutes, then kissed.
Marion hugged him and said, “You’re right, this feels better. Thank you.”
She stood up and he wrapped the bath sheet around her. He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom. They pushed the clothes and luggage off the bed. Gordon shed his wet clothes and they made love. Marion never thought she could love Gordon more, but she did, much more.
As time went on, Gordon would ask if Catherine had contacted Marion with any news about Jergins. Marion always assured him she would let him know the minute she heard. Gordon was determined to act, if only to call the authorities in whatever jurisdiction Jergins called home.
Finally, on Halloween, Catherine came to Marion as they ate dinner. Gordon noticed Marion’s gaze fix on something he couldn’t see.
“He’s on the prowl. He hasn’t had a child in so long he’s going to grab one trick or treating,” Catherine s
aid, agitated as she spoke to Marion.
“Where? Where is he hunting?”
“He’s in Visalia, on West Goshen near Adventure Park.”
Marion turned to Gordon and told him where Jergins was looking for his next victim. Gordon picked up his cell phone and left the room.
“How have you been, Catherine?” Marion decided to make some small talk while Gordon was making his calls.
“I feel like I’m in hell. This is not the afterlife I would have chosen.”
“Okay, they’re out looking for him,” Gordon said as he returned to the room. Catherine faded.
“She’s not enjoying this,” Marion said as Gordon sat down to finish his meal.
“There’s not much you can do. You didn’t sentence her to this. Is there anything she can do to get away from him?”
Marion drank some wine and replied, “Honey, I’m not an expert on the afterlife. Most of the ghosts I speak to desire to be where they are. I’ve seen men return to the Navy ships they served on. I’ve seen people return to the home they grew up in or the school they attended. This is the first time I’ve encountered someone who lived for vengeance or to punish. I’m not sure which motive Catherine originally had in mind.”
They continued eating and during dessert Gordon’s phone rang. He spoke briefly before ending the call.
“They found him and are following him.”
Later that evening Catherine returned. “He’s home and frustrated. He thinks it’s your fault he was tracked.”
“My fault? How did he come to that conclusion?”
“He knows he is still being haunted, and he knows you are the connection to the authorities.” Catherine faded out.
“He knows it’s me.”
Gordon’s brow furrowed, “I had hoped he had forgotten about you.”
“Should I be concerned?”
Gordon smiled and put his hand on hers and said, “No, he’s far away and a bit of a coward. Most pedophiles are.” Marion gave him a weak smile and put her head on his shoulder. Gordon continued, “I’m here to protect you. He won’t get close to you.”
They planned to spend Thanksgiving together alone watching football. Gordon’s family had invited them to dinner, but both Gordon and Marion felt meeting the family was too much too soon. When Thanksgiving passed, they discussed the holiday parties at their jobs. They decided it was time to attend the holiday parties as a couple.
Josh was the only person at Marion’s job that knew Gordon. She and Josh had been best friends since childhood and he had met Gordon when he stopped by Marion’s for a beer one evening. Gordon seemed leery that his girlfriend had a best friend of the male gender, but eventually accepted it.
“I see you went to Palm Springs last weekend. Did you have fun?” Josh asked with a smile.
“Oh yes, a lot of fun,” Marion answered smiling at Gordon.
Later Gordon asked Marion, “How does he know we went to Palm Springs?”
Patting her hip she replied, “He has his ways.”
Gordon reached into her hip pocket and pulled out her cell phone.
“He tracks you?”
“I told you, Josh always knows where I am. He pays the bills here, so yeah, he tracks all employees. It can come in handy sometimes.”
Gordon slipped the phone back in her pocket and said, “I’ll keep that in mind next time you’re late meeting me.”
The other employees were happy to meet Marion’s ‘significant other’ at the company holiday party. Arnie and Ken had had plenty of dealings with police and felt more than comfortable around Gordon. All the guys advised Gordon not to gamble with Marion at the batting cages. Gordon’s interest was piqued as he and Marion had not discussed playing sports. He knew she was a Dodger fan. He had planned to surprise her with season seats next season. But now he was going to have to prod her about her ability to play sports.
“What’s this I hear about you and the batting cages?” Gordon asked as they drove home.
Marion just shook her head and said, “Oh, that’s nothing, just a bunch of sore losers.”
She explained that they had gone for hot dogs one evening and the guys each gave it a go in the cages. Josh didn’t think anything of it, but the other two gambled on who could hit the most in a dollar session. Arnie hit 10 of 20 while Ken hit 11 of 20. While they were arguing over the meaning of the difference of one hit, Marion put on a helmet, grabbed a bat and put four quarters in the machine. She hit 17 out of 20. Ken and Arnie gave her the money and never went to the batting cages with her again.
Marion explained, “Josh and I used to go for hot dogs at the batting cages near where we lived when we were teenagers. Neither of us were involved in team sports but we had fun hitting baseballs.”
Bringing fresh drinks to the couple, Josh added, “Sometimes we made the guys from our school team look bad. They would come to the batting cages for additional practice.”
Gordon turned to Marion and said, “That’s impressive! Seventeen out of 20! You’d be an asset to anyone’s team, lady.”
“Not really,” Marion replied, “I throw like a girl. I never developed a proper throwing motion. But I’d make a good DH.”
A week later they attended a holiday party held at Gordon’s precinct. They agreed to tell them that Marion worked for a private detective agency and leave it at that. While some assumed her too beautiful to be a private investigator, one of Gordon’s colleagues, Detective Ted Simmons, said he could attest to it. He said she was rather extraordinarily gifted and then winked at Marion. She smiled and Gordon wondered what job she had done for Ted.
On the drive home he asked her about Ted, but she could only mention confidentiality. When Gordon asked Ted about it at work, he got a nervous smile and an invitation to get some coffee.
“What I say has to stay between us,” Ted said while sitting outside on one of the benches near the hamburger stand where they bought their coffee.
“No problem. In fact, if you’re that jittery about it, don’t tell me. I understand her line of work.”
Ted shook his head. “I needed a shortcut to close a case. Marion got me the location of some evidence I needed. She’s listed as a CI.”
“So Marion is a registered confidential informant for … for what? Asking a ghost where a body is buried?”
“Not a body, a gun, used in a murder. If the defense lawyer had asked too many questions, I’d have been up the creek without a paddle and a hole in the boat.”
Gordon smiled. “Okay, gotcha. Nothing further need be said.”
“I’m impressed with your girl there. When she says she can keep a secret, she means it!”
For New Year’s, the couple went to Santa Catalina Island. It was the perfect romantic getaway for the couple. They attended the celebration in the Casino Ballroom where black tie was optional, but they opted to go for broke. Gordon looked dashing in his tuxedo and Marion wore her little black dress with a ruby necklace and earring set. They danced in each other’s arms as the band played “You Send Me.”
With 15 minutes left before midnight, Gordon suggested they go down to the beach. The casino was crowded and Marion was happy to go. They strolled along the walkway next to the sand, listening to the celebration start in the ballroom. Marion turned to look at the ballroom and when she turned back to kiss Gordon she found he had dropped to one knee and was holding up a ring.
She gasped as he said, “Marion, since I met you I’ve come to believe anything is possible. I want to be yours for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”
She started to cry and said, “Yes! Yes I will!”
He stood and they kissed, a much longer one than the usual New Year’s kiss. They both thought life couldn’t get any better.
Chapter 10
In March, they d
ecided to announce their engagement to Gordon’s family. Marion had no close family since her mother had passed, but she told Gordon he had already met her family.
“The guys I work with are my family now. I’d do anything for them, and they would for me.”
They decided to keep her gift a secret as Gordon’s family was not nearly as open-minded as he was. The agency had a job in Arizona, to verify a hotel’s haunted status to make it onto a list of the most haunted buildings. Everyone went on these types of jobs so while the individual investigators did their thing, Josh could keep the owner or manager from getting in the way.
Gordon’s parents were retired and living in Gold Canyon, Arizona. It would be a perfect two-for-one trip. The hotel was located about 20 miles south of Phoenix. Stories had circulated of various people who died there due to crime, lovers’ spats, and suicide. People reportedly heard voices and saw shadows.
Josh had a friend with an aviation company and got a good deal on private plane and helicopter trips. While the others flew to Phoenix on a private plane, Gordon and Marion drove. They wanted more time to visit with Gordon’s parents and make any side trips they wanted to take. They were all booked at the hotel, called appropriately the Haunted Inn. While Ken and Arnie examined the blueprints for the building, Josh, Marion, and Gordon went out to eat and look around the town.
They were finishing lunch at a coffee shop when one of the locals heard them talking about the inn. As he stood to leave the tip, the man looked over and said, “So you’re stayin’ at the carnival?”
Josh turned to the man and replied, “Carnival?”
The man smiled and approached their table. He was about 70-something and 5’11”.
“Sorry to intrude, name’s Lenny, Lenny Miller.” He extended a hand to Josh who shook it and introduced everyone at the table. “Yeah, they bought that place about five years ago. Then they started spreadin’ stories about it being haunted. Maybe it’s true, maybe it’s not. I’ve lived here for 30 years and never heard about anythin’ funny happenin’ there before. But I have to hand it to them, they’re makin’ money outta folks like you.”
