A Haunting In Wisconsin

by Michael Richan

  A minute later, she heard the phone lift and Don’s voice came over the line. “Eliza?” he said, his voice cheery.

  “Hello, Don!” Eliza replied. “How are you?”

  “Oh, I’m fine!” Don answered. “Just fine. Did you reach Horace?”

  “As a matter of fact, we did.”

  “Oh!” he said. “I want to hear all about it!”

  “Actually, we need your help, Don,” Eliza replied. “Do you remember you said the original couple who built the B&B sold it to a woman who ran it for a couple of years?”

  “Yes.”

  “The paperwork says that woman was M. Williams. We need to know if her first name was Martha.”

  “Oh, that’ll be easy,” Don said dismissively. “Give me a couple of hours, then meet me at the diner. I’ll bring what I discover, and you can tell me all about Horace.”

  “Alright. See you then.” She hung up.

  “Well?” Robert asked.

  “We meet him in two hours at the diner. Said it would be easy.”

  “That would be nice,” Robert replied. “Nothing has seemed easy so far.”

  ●

  They found Don in the same booth they’d met him in on previous visits. He stood to greet them, and they slid back into the booth.

  A waitress showed up, and they placed orders. Don lifted a manila folder from the booth seat beside him and placed it on the table. “Here’s your answer.” He slid it toward Eliza.

  Eliza opened it and looked over the document. It was a copy of the county record of property transfer.

  Martha J. Williams.

  “It was her!” Eliza said.

  “How was talking to Horace?” Don asked. “Was it creepy? Did he tell you much?

  “Actually, we’ve uncovered quite a bit,” Eliza replied.

  “I can’t wait to hear it!” Don said.

  “Martha’s daughter, Wanda, was killed on the property, the year before she bought it,” Eliza replied.

  Don’s eyes went wide. “You found a body?”

  “We found bones,” Robert replied. “She had been pushed down a cesspool.”

  “Oh, that’s awful! She died in it? In the cesspool?”

  “Yes,” Eliza replied. “And we think Horace Lyons was the reason she died.”

  “Oh!” Don repeated, his eyes widening once again. “He killed her?”

  “That’s the theory we’re working on,” Robert replied.

  “My god!” Don said dramatically. “I thought you guys were just poking around a haunting! I had no idea it would lead to murder! Did you call the cops? Report the bones?”

  “Not yet,” Eliza said. “Milton — he’s the current owner of the place — he’ll call them to report the find once we finish our work. Having policemen around while we’re trying to sort out all the River stuff wouldn’t be very helpful.”

  “They’re a little skeptical of our methods,” Robert added.

  “Oh, sure,” Don replied. “I can see why. Sure.”

  “Is there any record of Martha Williams after she shut down the boarding house?” Eliza asked.

  “No,” Don replied. “No mention at all. She either moved away or disappeared. Are you going to try and find her?” Their food arrived.

  “I think we’ve got to,” Eliza answered. “It’s the only avenue left.”

  “Well, there’s still whatever my father uncovers,” Robert offered.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Eliza said. “That might yield something.”

  “What’s that?” Don asked.

  “We found an item, buried at the house,” Robert said. “We believe Wanda hid it. We think she stole it from Horace Lyons, and that might be why he killed her.”

  “How horrible!” Don said, slicing into his food. “What was the item?”

  “A kaleidoscope,” Eliza replied. “Not a kid’s kind, one that was more sturdy. Made of metal.”

  “And the little girl stole it from Horace Lyons?” Don asked.

  “Yes,” Eliza replied, picking up her hamburger. “She wanted to return it to him, but she was scared of him.”

  “How do you know that?” Don asked, then paused. “Wait, never mind…you talked to her!”

  “Yes,” Eliza replied.

  “Amazing!” Don continued. “Absolutely amazing. And kinda scary!”

  “Instead of giving it back to him,” Eliza said, “Wanda buried it on the property. We located it, and Robert’s father is testing it as we speak. There is something special about it; if we can determine its purpose, it might explain why Horace did what he did.”

  “So complicated,” Don replied. “It’s like a spooky mystery novel!”

  “I guess so,” Eliza replied.

  “I was…I hoped that, yesterday, I was talking to Stephanie, the balls were…Stephanie was later, and…” Don said, and paused.

  Eliza looked up. Don’s eyes were moving strangely; he seemed confused and disoriented. “Don?” she asked.

  Don didn’t respond right away; he tilted his head a little, and glanced down at his arms. “I slid the…the western…Stephanie…” He raised his head to look at her.

  She saw the left side of his face begin to droop. “Don? Is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?”

  Don looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead, he lowered his gaze to his arms, and reached for one of them. Again he opened his mouth, but couldn’t form words.

  “I think he might be having a stroke!” Robert said. “Stay here with him.” He slid from the booth and ran to the counter, where he flagged down a waitress.

  “Don?” Eliza asked, reaching across the table to take his hands. “Don?”

  Don looked up, but couldn’t speak. The entire left side of his face had gone slack. He began to slump forward, and Eliza reached up to catch his head seconds before it fell into the food.

  Sliding from her seat, she kept his head elevated while moving to his side, where she helped him lean against the wall. She unzipped his jacket, worried he might be overheating. She’d had no experience with strokes, and didn’t know what to do other than make him comfortable.

  Robert was back at the table within seconds, the waitress right behind him. “Ambulance is on the way,” he said.

  “What happened?” the waitress asked, looking at Don, slumped against the wall.

  “He began to speak gibberish,” Eliza replied. “Then he slumped.”

  “Did his face droop?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s a stroke,” the waitress replied. “Had one in here last month. Takes the medics about five minutes to arrive. You his kids?”

  “No, just friends,” Eliza replied.

  “Stay with him, make sure he doesn’t fall,” the waitress said. “The medics will know what to do.”

  Drool began to spill from Don’s mouth, and Eliza reached for a napkin from the table. She held it at his lips.

  Robert slid into the booth on the opposite side. She glanced at him; he was white.

  “You OK?” Eliza asked.

  “Yeah,” he replied, and looked at Don. She saw the worry on Robert’s face; the same worry she felt. She turned back to Don. He had closed his eyes.

  The ambulance seemed to take forever. When the paramedics arrived, they asked Robert and Eliza to step out of the booth. She watched as they checked Don and placed him onto a stretcher. Within moments he was being wheeled out the door.

  “Where will they take him?” Robert asked the waitress.

  “County,” she replied. “It’s ten minutes straight down this road.”

  They paid the bill and walked to their car. “What now?” Robert asked. “Want to check on him?”

  “Absolutely!” Eliza said, getting into the vehicle.

  Ten minutes later they arrived at the hospital, parked, and made their way to the emergency room waiting area. There, they found a receptionist behind a counter who explained that they wouldn’t have any information on Don for a while
, and that they couldn’t give out details of his condition if they weren’t family.

  “But he had a stroke!” Eliza said. “He can’t even talk! How’s he going to notify relatives?”

  “Well, our procedure here is to use his ID to contact someone,” she replied.

  “Who?” Eliza asked. “Did you reach his wife?”

  “I can’t give that out either.”

  Eliza growled in frustration. Robert moved to stand between her and the receptionist. “It’s their privacy policies,” he said. “No sense in battling them.”

  Eliza turned and walked off. Robert turned back to the receptionist. “Sorry, we were with him when it happened. We just want to make sure he’s OK.”

  “I promise you he’s being treated right now,” she replied. “There’s not much more I can say.”

  Eliza found a chair in the waiting room and sat. Robert followed and sat next to her. “There’s not a lot we can do at this point.”

  “I know, it’s just so frustrating.”

  “I’m going to find a phone,” he replied, rising. “I want to try my dad again.”

  Eliza watched as Robert walked back to the receptionist, asking for a telephone. She directed him to a pay phone down a hallway.

  She took a deep breath, wanting to let go of the stress she’d felt ever since Don’s head fell forward and she spared him a face covered in food. She was worried about Don, but she was worried about Milton, too. Stress seemed to be piling upon stress, and she closed her eyes, hoping it might all disappear when she opened them. She heard Robert approaching and knew it wouldn’t.

  “No answer,” Robert said. “This isn’t like him.”

  “What time is it?” Eliza asked absently.

  “It’s well past noon,” Robert replied. “I’m getting worried. He knows we were supposed to connect this morning and talk.”

  “Maybe he called Milton?”

  “I tried him too,” Robert said. “He hasn’t called.”

  Now she felt a pang of dread hit her stomach. “What should we do?”

  “I think we should go back to Madison. They’re not going to tell us anything about Don anyway, regardless of how long we wait.”

  “Alright,” she said, rising from the chair. “The B&B is on the way, we should stop and get our things.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  As she returned clothes to her suitcase, she felt anxiety compound. What if something bad had happened? What if Granger was unable to get to the phone at all?

  Stop it, she thought, hating the morose feeling that had descended upon her. He’s fine. It’s something simple.

  She continued packing, feeling the dread continue despite her efforts to banish it. She turned from the suitcase on the bed just as Robert entered the room.

  “Making progress?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she replied, trying not to let her concern show in her voice.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, coming to her.

  “Nothing, just worried,” she said. “I’ll feel better when we get to Madison and find out everything is OK.”

  “Me too,” Robert said, packing up toiletries in the bathroom.

  Eliza stopped, wanting something to help wash away what she was feeling. She dropped into the River, surprised that the room felt better, no longer tilted or sickening. Things are shifting here, too, she thought. Now she could see details whereas before everything had been too dim to make out. The walls were there, and as she looked down, she saw light wisps of blue mist at her feet, still lingering.

  She turned, examining what she could see. Something was still there, something waiting — some kind of presence. While much of the River had lightened, it wasn’t enough to pinpoint what she was feeling.

  She knew it was time to drop from the River and continue packing; they needed to get on the road to Madison. Still, the sensations she felt told her there was more to explore; while the River had been practically inaccessible for much of their stay, things had changed to the point where she felt the River might once again be an asset — something they needed to use and examine in this new, improved condition. There was something here, but she didn’t have the time to find out what.

  She dropped from the flow, feeling the dread return, and picked up another item of clothing to fold and drop into the suitcase.

  ●

  Eliza could tell Robert was becoming more and more worried the closer they got to Madison. As they approached the industrial space that served as both a home and workshop for Granger and Robert, she could feel the anxiety prickling along her fingers.

  They walked into the living quarters. Robert began calling for Granger, but there was no reply. After they checked each of the rooms, Robert went out to the workspace.

  They caught the last moments of metal doors sliding closed at the other end of the large room.

  “Someone was just here,” Robert said, leading them quickly through the work area. After releasing the lock on the door, he pulled it up and it slid into its overhead tracks.

  Sitting in his Ford Fairlane was Arnie, a friend who used the work area with Granger and Robert, primarily to tinker with automobiles. Seeing them, Arnie got out and stood next to his car. Eliza could tell by the look on Arnie’s face that something bad had happened.

  “Robert!” Arnie said. “There you are! I tried to find you! I didn’t know where you were!”

  “I’ve been trying to reach my father,” Robert said. “Do have any idea where he might be?”

  Arnie looked down, and his head tilted a little, as though he didn’t quite know what to say. Then she saw the man shake a little, and she realized that he was crying.

  She ran up to him, wrapping an arm around the old, solid man.

  Robert stood in front of him. “Arnie?”

  Arnie looked up, tears on his face. “I found him this morning,” Arnie said. “He was lying on the ground in the shop. I called an ambulance.”

  “Where is he?” Robert asked.

  “He’s dead, Robert,” Arnie said, choking on his words. “Granger’s dead.”

  Robert froze. Eliza could tell he wanted to ask another question, but nothing came out of his mouth.

  She felt a cold wave of nausea wash over her as Arnie’s news sunk in. Her mind quickly moved to ask the questions Robert couldn’t.

  “How long ago?” she asked, feeling as though the question was hollow.

  “Around ten this morning,” Arnie replied. “I came in like I always do, and he was lying on the ground.”

  “How?” Eliza asked.

  “They said it was cardiac arrest,” Arnie replied. “A heart attack. I’m so sorry!”

  Eliza looked up at Robert. He was staring past her, his eyes moving left and right as he tried to process the information.

  “Where did they take him?” Robert asked.

  “They kept asking me what to do with him,” Arnie replied. “How would I know? I told them I’d have to get in touch with you!”

  “Where?” Robert repeated.

  “They said they’d keep him at the city morgue until you told them what to do,” Arnie replied.

  Robert turned and walked back into the shop.

  “Robert?” Eliza called, but he didn’t stop.

  Arnie began to cry once again, and Eliza increased her grip on the man’s shoulders. He reached out to her and they embraced. The man’s emotions began to bubble over into hers, and she felt herself beginning to cry as well. She looked up and saw Robert making his way through the shop, disappearing into the door that led to the living quarters.

  “I knew him for thirty years,” Arnie was sobbing. “Thirty years!”

  They consoled each other for a few minutes, and then Eliza asked Arnie if he would wait a few moments for her. He said he would, and she walked into the shop, following the path Robert had taken several minutes earlier. She went into the living quarters and called for him, but got no answer. After making her way to the front door, she opened it.

  Robert’
s car was gone.

  The pain of losing Granger suddenly multiplied. Robert had left without a word.

  She returned to the shop. Arnie was seated on a chair by the door. “Did you find him?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied. “I assume he’s on his way to the morgue. Arnie, where did you find Granger?”

  “He was there,” Arnie replied, pointing to a spot near a workbench. “Lying on the ground.”

  Eliza walked to the spot Arnie indicated. There, on the workbench, was a device that looked like a large paint can, with a sliding door on one side. Attached to the can were wires that led to a readout.

  She opened the sliding door. Inside was the leather bag that held the kaleidoscope. She reached for it and pulled it from the device. It was empty.

  “Did you happen to see what was in this?” she asked Arnie, holding up the bag. “He was working on it.”

  “No,” Arnie said. “I didn’t do any poking around. The EMTs asked me a few questions, but I don’t know what any of that stuff does.”

  She looked at the leather bag. Granger had removed most of the dirt from it before he’d tried to analyze it.

  “I don’t have a car,” Eliza said. “Mine’s back in Spring Green, at my house. I don’t suppose you’re up for a drive to the morgue?”

  “Sure,” Arnie said. “I can give you a lift. I have no idea where it is.”

  “I’ll look it up,” Eliza replied.

  ●

  They drove to the morgue in silence. When they got there, they found it closed, after normal hours. There was a phone number on the door, but when Eliza called it, it was a message.

  Assuming Robert had met the same situation, she asked Arnie to drive her back to Granger’s home. She’d locked everything up before they left, but Arnie was able to get them in using his key for the garage doors. Robert wasn’t there.

  “What do we do?” Arnie asked.

  “I’ll wait for him,” Eliza said. “You don’t have to, if you need to get home.”

  “Pat put dinner on the back burner,” Arnie said. “But I suppose I need to get home at some point.”

  “Go,” Eliza said. “I’ll be here if Robert comes back. We’ll be OK.”