by Terri Reid
Ian sighed. “And here I thought you were saving yourself for me,” he teased.
“You’re way too old,” she replied.
“Ach, you’ve just bruised not only me heart, but me ego as well,” he chuckled. “So, I heard young Andy got himself in a bit of a fight the other day.”
Leaning across the counter, Clarissa picked up a piece of crunchy bacon from a warming plate and took a healthy bite before she answered. “Um-hmmm,” she said, her mouth filled. “He was fighting Jack Wilson because Jack called Mary some names.”
“Oh? What did Jack say?” he asked, trying to keep his voice disinterested.
“Jack said that Mary was a faker and was just trying to cheat people out of their money,” Clarissa repeated evenly. “Jack’s an idiot.”
Ian bit back a smile at Clarissa’s assessment of the young man. “Some children might be upset with their parents when things like this happen,” Ian said, pulling the cooked waffle from the iron and pouring in more batter. “Some children might be embarrassed when their classmates talk about their parents.”
Clarissa nodded. “Yeah, maybe,” she said. “But I know that Mary’s not a faker and I know she doesn’t even take money for what she does. And I’ve known about seeing ghosts since I was little, and Maggie and I would talk about the sad lady. So, really, Jack is just stupid.”
“So, having Mary for a mom doesn’t embarrass you?” he asked.
Blinking in surprise, she shook her head. “No,” she said. “Why? Are you embarrassed by her?”
Ian chuckled and shook his head. “No, darling, I think your mother is the one of the bravest, kindest and noblest women I know,” he said. “And I have never been embarrassed by her.”
Bending her head for a moment, she looked down at the ground and softly cleared her throat. “Can I tell you a secret?” she asked quietly.
Ian leaned over towards her. “Of course, darling,” he said. “You can tell me anything.”
She lowered her voice even more. “Sometimes,” she said.
“Yes?” Ian prompted.
“Sometimes when we are at the grocery store,” Clarissa added and then stopped.
“Yes, darling,” Ian said. “What about that?”
“Sometimes when she’s in the grocery store with me she sings,” she whispered, quickly looking around the room to ensure no one else was around. “She sings to the store music.”
Ian grinned. “Ah, well, that can be embarrassing,” he agreed.
“And sometimes she dances,” Clarissa continued. “Not big dances, just little steps and sometimes she moves her shoulders and arms.”
“Oh my,” Ian replied, biting back his laughter. “Have you spoken to her about it?”
Clarissa sighed and shook her head. “No,” she confessed. “She looks like she’s having so much fun when she does it. I don’t want to spoil things for her.”
“Ah, well, if it helps, me mum at home does the very same thing,” he said. “I do believe it’s a mum thing.”
Clarissa nodded wisely. “Yeah, I’ve seen some of the other moms do it, too,” she admitted. “It’s like it’s part of their Mom club.”
Pulling another waffle from the iron, Ian chuckled and nodded. “Aye, that’s it exactly,” he said. “It must be part of the Mom club.”
Chapter Thirty-one
“She really said that?” Mary asked as she opened the closet door and pulled out her jacket. “I embarrass her when I sing to the grocery store music?”
Ian grinned and nodded.
“But it’s Motown,” Mary exclaimed. “How can I not sing along?”
“Aye, I understand the problem here,” he sympathized. “And I, myself, would be hard pressed to not break into song in the same situation.”
She looked over her shoulder and saw the wide grin on his face. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” she asked.
Widening his eyes, he shook his head. “Mary, me darling, when have I ever attempted to mock you?” he asked.
“I don’t know, every chance you get,” she replied. “I think it comes from hanging around with my brothers.”
Chuckling, he stepped up, took her jacket from her and held it so she could put it on. “I would never be as ungentlemanly as your brothers,” he said.
Slipping her jacket on, she turned and met his eyes. “Well, I do appreciate you talking to Clarissa this morning,” she said. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that she’s not having any problems with the article.”
“She’s as right as rain,” he replied. “Healthy, normal and secure.”
With a relieved sigh, Mary put her hands on Ian’s shoulders. “Thank you,” she said, reaching up to give him a hug.
As he embraced her, the front door opened. “Um, excuse me,” a male voice grumbled from the doorway. “The door was unlocked, so I…”
Mary looked over and smiled. “Casey. Hi! It’s fine. Come on in,” Mary said, inviting the infamous ”cute flooring guy” into her house. “We were just leaving.”
Casey looked from Mary to Ian and slowly shook his head. “Didn’t you just get married, earlier in the year?” he asked. “To the chief of police?”
Confused for a moment, Mary finally realized that Casey must have thought he had just walked in on a compromising situation, and she smiled. “Casey, this is my good friend Professor Ian McDougal,” she said. “He’s in from Chicago and spending a few days with us.”
“Ian McDougal,” Casey replied, turning the name over in his mind for a moment. Then he looked at Ian and nodded. “Oh, yeah, you’re the guy with the black shirt.”
“I beg your pardon?” Ian asked.
“Something my wife, Tammy, mentioned,” he replied. “She said that if I ever met you, I should ask you where you bought it.”
Mary snorted and quickly placed her hand over her mouth. “Actually, Bradley bought one,” she said, holding back her laughter. “And it’s one of my favorite shirts. I’ll send Tammy the website.”
Ian was still confused. “My black shirt?” he asked Mary. “What in the world…”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll have Gillian explain it to you.” She turned to Casey and inclined her head towards Ian. “Gillian’s his fiancée, a lovely woman, and they are very much in love.”
Casey nodded and Mary could see the relief in his face. “Well, that’s good,” he said.
“And Bradley’s upstairs,” she added. “He’ll be down in a minute to show you the floor.”
“Great,” Casey replied, and then he paused again. “I saw that article about you in the paper.”
Holding her breath, Mary waited for the criticism but was happily surprised with his response. “I think it’s cool that you help people who can’t help themselves,” he said. “And I’ve been in enough old houses to never doubt the reality of ghosts.”
“Well, someday we’re going to have to exchange stories,” she said.
He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”
Walking over to the staircase, she called up to Bradley. “Ian and I are leaving now and Casey’s here.”
“Okay, I’ll be down in a second,” Bradley replied. “You two be careful out there. Don’t take any risks—necessary or not.”
“I promise,” she said. “Love you.”
“Love you, too,” he called back. “See you tonight.”
Mary picked up her purse and briefcase. “Okay, I’m ready,” she said to Ian. “See you soon, Casey.”
“Thanks, Mary. Nice meeting you, Ian,” Casey replied.
“You, too,” Ian said, still slightly confused. “And best of luck finding a black shirt.”
Ian and Mary walked outside and to Ian’s vehicle, because it held all of the equipment in the back. “Tell me,” Ian said as they approached the SUV. “Is it that difficult to find a good, black shirt in the States?”
Mary giggled and nodded. “You’d be surprised, Ian,” she said. “You’d be surprised.”
Chapter Th
irty-two
Ian turned right on the road leading to Sol’s house in Pearl City. They both looked ahead to the old Victorian with its turreted roof, clapboard shingles and gingerbread molding. “Looks like a haunted house to me,” Ian said as he drove up the block.
“Looks like a house in need of a loving family to me,” Mary replied.
Ian smiled at her. “Mary, you really need to start developing your sense of drama,” he said.
She smiled and shook her head. “I think I have enough drama in my life already.”
Sol was impatiently pacing in front of the house in Pearl City when Ian’s vehicle pulled into the driveway. Pointedly looking down at his watch and then up at the SUV, Sol took a moment before he started to walk towards them.
“Testy fellow, isn’t he?” Ian remarked.
“Yeah, a real prince,” Mary muttered as she opened her door and slid out. She turned towards Sol, nodded politely and then looked past him to the house.
“Are you sensing something yet?” Sol asked impatiently. “I’m paying—”
Mary cut him off. “You are not paying,” she reminded him curtly. “And the only thing I can sense right now is your agitation. So, you need to calm down or this isn’t going to work at all.”
Obviously unused to being treated that way, Sol was shocked into silence for a moment, but his thoughts were working overtime. Who the hell does this woman think she is, treating me like this? Does she know who I am? Does she understand how powerful I am? I could make and break her career, the little bitch. I don’t need her…
But then, as he glanced at Ian carrying a large, black case of electronic equipment out of the back of the SUV, he thought better of it. Damn it, I do need her. At least for now.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Sol offered, moving over to the back of the vehicle.
“Thanks,” Ian said pleasantly. “I’d like to take them directly into the house if that’s okay with you, but before we carry any equipment in the house, there is the matter of the contract.”
“Contract? What contract?” Sol asked, immediately suspicious. “She told me that this wasn’t going to cost me nothing.”
“This isn’t going to cost you anything,” Ian replied, pulling the paperwork from a briefcase. “But this contract just states that you are allowing me to videotape the inside of your house and to use the footage in future presentations.”
“Like when he’s speaking to international groups about paranormal phenomena,” Mary added. “All of the professional groups use contracts like these; I’m surprised you didn’t know about them.”
Sol looked a little perplexed. “Well, yeah, I knew about them,” he said, lying to save face. “I was just surprised that you knew about them.”
“Ah, well, now that we have that cleared up,” Ian said. “Once you sign it, you can start helping me lug the rest of the equipment inside.”
Sol pulled a pen from his pocket, signed his name to the last page of the contract and handed it to Mary. “So, where do you want the equipment?” he asked.
“I’d like to take them directly into the house, if that’s okay with you,” Ian asked.
Sol nodded. “Yes, yes, that’s fine,” he said. “The front door is unlocked, and directly to your right is a parlor that might be a great staging area.”
“Perfect,” Ian replied. “Mary, would you get the door for us?”
Mary hurried ahead and opened the door, letting Ian in first before she followed after him into the house. She stepped inside the front hallway and felt like she had been transported in time back to a Midwestern depiction of the Victorian era. The wallpaper had a maroon background with a flocked, floral pattern of black on top. The floors were covered with ornate Oriental carpets, and the window furnishings were heavy, maroon silk, jacquard curtains festooned with black silk fringe. The tables and woodwork gleamed in rich, highly polished oak, and the settees and chairs were delicate, velvet tufted antiques.
She stepped forward, the atmosphere dark and nearly stifling.
“Wow,” she said. “This is not what I expected.”
“Reminds me of some of the castles back home,” Ian replied, looking around the small parlor he was in. Mary followed him from the hallway into the parlor and looked around. The walls were covered with pictures and other artifacts suitable for the Victorian era.
“It’s like walking into a museum,” Mary whispered.
“Someone put a whole lot of money into setting a stage,” Ian said. “Well, hello there,” he added, leaving his equipment and walking over to the fireplace mantle.
“What?” Mary asked, following him over.
“Take a look at this,” he said, pointing to a woven wreath hung in a place of honor over the mantle.
“It’s an ugly, black wreath,” Mary said, reaching up to touch the material.
“It’s a funeral wreath,” he explained, “made out of the hair of the deceased family member.”
“Oh, gross!” Mary exclaimed, quickly pulling her hand away. “Do you have any hand sanitizer?”
A soft chuckle emanated from behind them, and Mary met Ian’s eyes. He motioned with his head in the direction of the staircase, and Mary walked over to see Marty, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He waved at them. “Do you like the house?” he asked.
“It’s certainly something,” Mary replied.
“Yeah, we wanted people to be transported when they walked in,” he said.
Just then the door opened and Sol walked in with more equipment. “Where do you want this stuff?” he growled.
Marty turned towards his former partner and glared at him. “How can he just waltz in here like nothing happened when he knows good and well he killed me to make some money?” he shouted. He rushed forward and swung at Sol, his arm slipping completely through Sol’s body.
Sol froze in the middle of the front hall, his eyes widening, and turned to Mary and Ian. “I think I just felt something paranormal,” he stammered.
“What did it feel like?” Mary asked, keeping her expression neutral.
“Like something cold just went through my body,” he whispered.
Ian pulled a small notepad out of one of the pockets of his briefcase. “How often do you have these feelings?” he asked professionally, flipping the notepad open and pulling a pen from his pocket.
Sol, still standing in the same spot, slowly shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever…” he paused and shook his head to clear it, realizing what he was about to say. “I mean, I feel these kinds of things all the time. This is the second most haunted house in Illinois.”
After jotting down the information, Ian looked up at Sol. “Do you have this feeling often when you are in the front hallway or near the staircase?” Ian asked.
Sol looked around at his surroundings nervously and then hurriedly came into the parlor and put down the equipment he was carrying. “Why is that important?” he asked.
“Well, I just want to ascertain where the main spikes of paranormal activity are in the house,” Ian said, “to make sure we put monitors in those areas so we can catch the readings.”
“Oh, okay,” Sol replied. “Well, yeah, sometimes when I’m in the hallway I feel it. I guess maybe the ghost is greeting me when I walk in or something.”
Mary walked slowly around the front hallway, stopping occasionally, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths before she continued on to another spot.
“What is she doing?” Sol asked.
“I’m trying to sense the atmospheric fluctuations,” she whispered harshly. “To see if I can tell if there is a ghost nearby.”
“I’m standing right next to you,” Marty said. “What’s wrong with you?”
Mary turned away from Sol and shot Marty a warning look. “Oh, you’re trying to fool Sol,” Marty said as the truth dawned on him. “Sorry. Go ahead. You’re doing a great job. Looks like what they do in the movies.”
Mary rolled her eyes and then stepped forward again. This
time she moaned softly.
“Mary, are you okay?” Ian asked, instantly alarmed. “Is it the baby?”
Grateful her eyes were still closed so they couldn’t see her laughter, Mary took another deep breath and then turned to Ian and Sol. “I feel a great deal of fluctuation in this area,” she said. “As if someone died in this spot.”
She watched as Sol’s face blanched, but turned before he could see that she noticed. “Do you have any historical data on the house?” she asked. “Could there have been a murder here? Perhaps a suicide?”
“Yeah, that’s what it was,” Sol agreed quickly. “A suicide. Some guy threw himself down the stairs about fifty years ago.”
“Did not!” Marty yelled.
Sol blanched even whiter. “Did you hear that?” he squeaked.
“Hear what?” Ian asked casually.
Sol shook his head. “Nothing,” he stammered. “Must have been something from outside.”
“Great,” Ian replied. “Well, why don’t we start setting up the equipment so we can get some readings on this ghost of yours? Would you like to stay in here and start unloading the equipment or go outside and grab the rest? It should take another trip or two.”
I’ll go out,” Sol immediately offered, glancing around the room. “I don’t mind carrying things in.”
Ian nodded and turned to unpacking until he heard the door close behind them. Then he turned on Mary. “What in the world were you doing back there?” he asked. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“I was just developing my sense of drama,” she replied with a smile.
He couldn’t help the returning grin. “Well, next time warn me before you go on stage, okay?”
“Deal,” she said and then she turned to Marty. “You’re doing a great job. Sol’s finally aware of you. But we don’t want you to be too active in the house, because if you are, you’re giving Sol everything he wanted.”
“So, what do you want me to do?” Marty asked.
“Just hang around with us,” Mary said. “And we’ll let you know what we need.”
“Okay, you just let me know,” he replied. “Just don’t make me go into the dining room.”
