by Alexie Aaron
Mia concentrated on the remnants of the picnic. She sought out the wine bottles with her mind. They began rising off their sides.
Murphy looked at the table underwhelmed and motioned for her to continue.
Mia lifted a plastic wine glass with her mind and balanced it on top of one of the nearest bottles. In the glass she put a sandwich.
“Ta da!” Mia said triumphantly.
Murphy yawned.
“He’s not impressed. He’s not even surprised,” Mia pouted. “Watch this.” Mia studied Murphy’s axe on the table, and she tossed it to the surprised farmer who caught it.
“What did you do?”
Mia explained. “I tossed his axe to him, blade out for safety.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Nothing, thinking. He looks a little put out,” she narrated.
Next thing both Mike and Mia knew was that they were rising off the ground in their chairs and landed back down with a slam. He followed it with a crack of his axe.
Mike and Mia clapped.
“You win, old boy,” Mike said, reaching out his hand.
Mia smiled as Murphy walked over and shook it. He grinned and patted Mia on the head and disappeared.
“What’s going on out here?” Ted said as he jumped down from the truck bed.
“Nothing, just me, Mike and Murphy shooting the bull,” Mia said, feeling a bit guilty.
“What’s that, the Eiffel Tower?” he said, pointing to Mia’s tower construction.
“Sears Tower at best,” Mia said.
“You mean the Willis Tower,” Mike corrected.
“Sorry, but it’s always going to be the Sears Tower to me,” Mia insisted, stood up and began to undo her building project.
“You two are way too chummy,” Ted accused.
“You told me to kiss up to the boss,” Mia lied.
Mike rolled his eyes. “Ted, would you care for a canapé?”
“If you mean a sandwich then yes. He reached into the hamper and grabbed a fistful of the tiny little fancy bread and spread offerings. He put two together and ate it in one bite.
“Ralph needs to send you both to charm school, Mia.”
“I know. Tell him that. I’m not going alone,” Mia said, watching adoringly as her fiancé stuffed fancy food into his mouth.
Mike looked at the love in her face. He shook his head. “I give up.”
Chapter Fifteen
The rush of the hunt had raised Bev’s blood pressure and put roses in her cheeks. She took in the contrast of the cavernous empty audience and the electricity of the stage. Here was where careers started and ended, petty jealousies flourished and lifelong friends were born. She took a moment and squatted down and touched the painted floorboards with her bare hand. She closed her eyes, and a rush of pictures moved past. She took out a small penknife and scratched off a layer of paint and touched it again. This time she heard the raunchy strains of a bawdy tune and a nasal-voiced singer as she moved across the stage.
“Can you bake a cherry pie…” Bev sang.
“Pardon?” Burt asked.
Bev blushed, unaware she had spoken these words aloud. “Just hearing some echoes. All theaters hold on to them. If you dig down deep enough, you can feel the nerves of the chorus girl or the frustration of the heckled comic. It’s the energy that stays, long after the performer has left,” she enlightened Burt and Audrey.
“I assume some big tragedy happened here for there to be so many spirits,” Burt said.
“Not really,” Bev said, getting to her feet. “You see, this place is like an onion; it has many layers of energy. “What Cid and Mia experienced below the stage probably has nothing to do with the clowns sitting in the audience over there.” She pointed. “Oh, no use hiding, I can see you,” she said to the comics.
Burt moved his dual camera set up towards the front row, and only the infrared camera picked up a faint heat signature in two of the seats.
“They haven’t pulled enough energy yet. Give them time. Probably during Amber’s rehearsal. Her nerves should do it.”
“I don’t understand,” Audrey began. “Nerves fueling ghosts?”
“It’s the stress. Think about poltergeists, they thrive on the tweens’ anxiety. The performers on this stage may look calm and composed, but inside their stomach churns. Even Babs admits to having nerves early in her career. All of this fuels spirits as if you gave them some of Ted’s brew. By the way, if you want to get this place hopping, toss some of Ted’s energon cubes out here while Amber is performing. I bet you’ll get more than you expected in the ghost arena,” Bev suggested.
“The management would like us to ease the occurrence of the more disturbing entities so they can put together a production without losing half their employees,” Burt told Bev.
“Shame. I hear the Rialto Square has done well with what they have roaming around there,” she pointed out.
“Juan Carlos wants to bring back burlesque. He feels the casino crowd wants more than the naked showgirls, swearing comedians and extreme illusionists. They want to be entertained. Adult entertainment, more innuendo and less porn.”
“Sort of the Branson thing for an R type audience,” Audrey explained. “Adult, without the feeling that you’re in a truck stop, strip club and buffet.”
Bev laughed. “I don’t know how anyone can eat when the stick figures are twirling around.”
Burt raised an eyebrow but didn’t dare comment.
Someone began turning on the house lights. Bev stared up at the remains of the message on the wall. “What happened there?”
Audrey explained, and the older woman’s brows furrowed. “Seems like we’ve got a prankster around. Pretty elaborate though. Magician perhaps?”
“That’s what I thought. We’re told to leave that to Juan’s security chief,” Burt informed her.
Bev nodded. “Tell me where the Bogart imitator showed up?”
“Right over here,” Amber said as she strode onto the stage. She was wearing a skin colored leotard with her burlesque costume over it. She was dressed as a very bouncy Cleopatra with a conspicuously happy sphinx resting between her hips.
Bev took in her attire and didn’t say a word. She walked over to the spot and rubbed at the floor. “Looks like a piece of tape has been placed here and removed.”
Amber stomped her foot in anger. “You mean he wasn’t a ghost, but I could see through him.”
“Burt, call in the troops. I bet we can find some very cleverly hidden cameras. I think some holographic nonsense has been taking place.”
Burt touched his ear. “Ted, ask Mike to monitor the console. I need you, Cid and Mia inside looking for holographic equipment or the evidence it has been here.”
“What about the disembodied head?” Amber asked. “She seemed pretty damn real to me.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m not saying the place isn’t haunted,” Bev clarified. “I’m just saying the man in white was probably a hoax. My first clue is that his attire was all wrong. If you’re going to create a ghost,” Bev said, loud enough for the guards outside to hear her, “You better make damn sure you’ve got the dress for the time period right!”
Audrey stood there and took in what Bev was saying. There was a lot to learn from this woman. Mia’s aunt had an insight that was more than supernatural, it was born of common sense.
Mia walked out onto the stage. She had heard Bev’s outburst and agreed with her. Try as she might, she couldn’t stay mad at her aunt for long. She was too vivacious, too alive for Mia not to be drawn to her flame.
“Stand here, Burt,” Bev instructed. “You be the ghost. Boys,” she called. “The image was projected here. It could be seen by the people onstage. Does anyone know if the people in the control booth could see it?”
There was a crackling of static before Juan’s accented voice confirmed that he and the technician operating the lights could see the bloody Bogie.
“I believe the security guards could see it too. The
y were in the audience,” Mia added.
“We’re talking a 3D projection,” Ted said, scratching his head.
“While the boys are figuring it out, would you mind if I got in some rehearsal time?” Amber asked sweetly.
“The stage is yours, Cleo,” Bev said.
“I’d like to take it from the chorus,” Amber shouted to the control room.
“Excuse me, couldn’t you get the girl a mic. She’s going to ruin her voice,” Bev suggested.
A mic rose out of the floor stage left. Another dropped down center stage.
“When I perform, I will have one of those flesh colored thingys, like they have on Broadway,” Amber explained.
Bev nodded and stepped back to watch.
A cover of Blue Moon played. The chorus was jazzed up to include a slow beat to which Amber strutted forward and moved her hips. “Now I’m no longer alone…” Amber gyrated her hips. “Without a dream in my heart…” She twirled pyramids attached to each bra cup.
The music cut out. “Amber,” Juan said. “I don’t think this number is working out. It’s so…”
“Hang on, buster,” Bev said. “Give the girl a chance. Amber, watch me,” Bev instructed. “Give me the bit from the beginning. Audrey, Mia, get over here and do what I do.”
Bev listened to the music and made another request. “Amber, pretend that you’re rising from the floor. And belt out the tune Ella style. She’ll forgive us this one liberty.”
The music rose, and as it did, so did Amber and Bev. “Blue Moon…” the women sang in unison. Bev had Amber turned away from the audience for the beautiful introduction. As soon as the pace picked up, she had Amber turn so fast that everything jiggled.
“Be prepared for nervous laughter. Don’t be offended, you are controlling the laughter. They are not laughing at you. Give me a shimmy. No, Mia, show her a shimmy. What, no shimmy?”
Ted walked over from the edge of the stage and moved his shoulders back and forth. “Like this.”
Mia followed his instructions, and soon her boobs were shaking fast enough to impress both Ted and Cid who let loose a wolf’s whistle.
“Now where’s the Catholic girl? Come here and mirror Mia on the other side of Amber. Yes, good,” Bev said as she watched the younger women shake their top digits.
“Run the music back again. Amber, this time when you turn, pop so everything jiggles. Girls, wait until she is four steps forward before following her with the shimmy.”
“Maestro!” Bev called out to the control booth.
The music started again. and Bev watched as Amber followed her instructions. Mia and Audrey were a little clumsy, but they weren’t dancers. Amber shown, her confidence soared, and by the end of the number she had all eyes on her.
Bev started clapping. “Now that’s burlesque.”
Burt wasn’t watching the girls as much as he wanted to. He had his cameras trained on the audience. Mike had alerted him that as soon as the girls started to shimmy, the male and the two female ghosts had appeared in their seats in the balcony.
Burt panned the mezzanine slowly until he picked up a heat signature. He kept the camera on the entity forming in the fourth row center.
It was Murphy. He could tell by the ever present axe. Burt focused in and wished that the infrared could do more with facial features. He would love to know what was going through the farmer’s head right now. Burt continued to pan the mezzanine, and by the time he reached the front row left, the two men dressed in plaid had appeared. Burt could see them without either camera. They were older and wore heavy makeup accentuating the brows and lips.
“Found it!” Cid crowed. He stuck his finger through a newly drilled hole in the right stage prompt area. “Or one of them. Ted, I bet if you examine the right wall by the speaker…”
Ted had left the stage and entered the long hall. He climbed the ladder and halfway up found a piece of duct tape. He pulled on it, and a circle of wood and wallpaper came with it. He touched his com and reported to Mike who repeated the info to Cid.
Mia was on her hands and knees examining the floor around Burt. She found several holes drilled on an angle all around him. She took a pencil and probed one of them and found it had been covered on the other side by tape.
Ted walked back out on the stage and informed Burt he could move now. “We can confirm that some method of projection was used, but by whom and why is still a mystery. Mr. Carlos,” Ted said, leaning down and speaking into the microphone, “You may want to look into who would want this review to fail or who thinks having a haunted theater would be more profitable.”
“Thank you. Is all this a hoax?” Juan asked from the control room.
“No. We are collecting evidence that you do have paranormal activity here, but we are finding quite a bit of fakery too.”
“Thank you,” Juan said and was silent.
The scratching of Murphy’s axe alerted the team that something was happening. Mia turned around to see the headless body lurch onto the stage, running into the Nile backdrop.
“Stay calm,” Mia instructed. “Audrey, keep an eye out for Harriett’s head,” she instructed. “The rest of you stay out of her way. She won’t hurt you.”
Bev stood with her hands on her hips, not amused by the three quarter woman’s quest. “What the fuck happened to you?” she asked.
“We think she lost her head in an elevator accident or…”
“Murder? Harriett was killed in the theater by elevator?” Bev snorted. “Tell me, this isn’t the theory you’re working on?”
“Do you have a better one?” Mia challenged.
“Not at the moment,” Bev said, watching the woman fade. “Oh, there she goes. Perhaps if she had an energon cube next time, she would have enough time to find her head, and we could get a straight answer.”
“Whoa,” Cid exclaimed. “I want to mention that there is a very strong, smelly monster under the stage. Don’t be throwing those cubes around hilly-nilly,” he warned.
“The man’s got a point,” Mia said.
“Oh very well, let… what did you call her?”
“Headless Harriett, and her head is Harpy Harriett,” Audrey supplied from the wings.
“Let the girl wander around. But if anyone sees the damned head, shout, and we’ll do our best to unite the two,” Bev ordered.
Burt was happy he wasn’t in charge of this investigation. It was evident to all that Bev had taken control of the situation. He wondered how Mike was going to handle that. Right now he was just a cameraman in a burlesque house, no stress, no control issues, just the joy of investigating a complex haunt.
Bev walked offstage and entered the hall. She saw Mia sitting on the floor in front of a cage of toy poodles. She squatted down, opened the cage and drew one of the dogs out. She brought it to her nose and breathed in and coughed. “They were in a fire. They died long before the flames got to them. The smoke killed them, put them to sleep.”
“It seems that this building has quite a rich tragic history,” Mia said, accepting the dog from her aunt. She cuddled the animal briefly before returning it to the others in the ghostly cage.
“Tragedy is everywhere, Mia.”
Mia got up and helped Bev to a standing position. Keeping hold of her hand, Mia walked a ways down the hall and pushed open the chorus girls’ dressing room. “Isn’t it about time you told me about what’s going on with you?”
Bev looked around and lifted some clothes off a comfortable looking love seat. She patted the seat next to her and invited Mia to sit down.
“When I was roaming around the country trying to find a place to fit into, I came upon a small circus. It was in rehearsals for the winter, the acts preparing for the next year. They had chosen a small town in Florida to hole up in. I had worked with some of the performers in other traveling venues before and was welcomed to share a trailer with a few of the ladies. That’s where I met Guillaume Bouché. He was a tall light-skinned Haitian, quite a talented magician. I do belie
ve he had developed his telekinesis powers and did have the natural ability to read minds - which comes in handy as you can imagine.”
Mia was silent about her own emerging talent. Instead, she sat and listened to her aunt.
“I fell in love the first time he grasped my hand. I was sixteen and he was thirty. He was married, but his wife was a dancer in New York, and rarely did the two ever spend time together. He needed an assistant, and I needed him. The circus traveled, and he was received well in most of the towns where we performed. He was light enough to pass. No one but a few of the performers knew his heritage. Don’t look at me that way. In those days and unfortunately even now, a black man was regarded with suspicion in the southern most backwoods areas of this country,” Bev informed Mia.
“What happened?”
“Two things, actually. He contracted a wasting illness in his youth that fell out of remission. And the Cooper curse. I didn’t want to lose him. We went everywhere looking for a cure. Once we exhausted western medicine, we traveled to his homeland to consult with the doctors there. It didn’t matter. Not even magic could save him. He died in my arms.”
“Is that where you met Gerald?”
“Oh, I had forgotten about that. Gerald, you see, had brought Guillaume’s wife back from New York to bury her husband. Gerald is her brother. Both were surprised to find me grieving in their home. She bitterly cursed me before tossing me out. Gerald, being who he is, picked me up and took me to a hotel. I wasn’t allowed to be at Guillaume’s burial. His wife forbade it.”
“What did you do?”
“I bilocated and was there just the same. I lay in the coffin beside him. He wasn’t there anymore, but I still couldn’t leave him. I remembered the clods of dirt hitting the top of the box. I can still hear them in my nightmares. I heard a strange man calling my name, and I rose out of the box and out of the earth. I returned to find Gerald rubbing my cold hands and legs, trying to keep me alive. I had been gone for several days. I developed a fever, and Gerald nursed me back to health. He brought me home, and we’ve been arguing ever since.”
