When the Spirit Calls (When the Spirit... series - Book 2)

by Thomas DePrima

  "I'm glad it's your last warning. I was really getting tired of hearing it. Now you can just watch me from afar, unless you foolishly decide to arrest me on some phony charge. And this is not your county. It belongs to the people you are supposed to serve. You are a public servant, Sheriff, and if you abuse your authority, there will be serious repercussions."

  Sheriff Canaar took a deep breath and released it, the glare on his face reflecting the sense of powerlessness he was feeling at that moment. Usually when he spoke, the little people did what he said without question. Unfortunately, her wealth put Arlene Watson well out of that category. He turned without saying another word and stormed out of the office, slamming the front door of the antiques shop as he left the premises.

  *

  Once back downstairs, Arlene sat down in her customary chair in the reading room. She wore a grim expression.

  "What did the sheriff want?" Erin asked.

  "It was the same old story. He wants me— us— out of town and out of his county. He threatened to arrest me if I wasn't gone by tomorrow."

  "And?"

  "And I told him I'm not leaving. I told him my lawyers had already been advised that I was being subjected to severe harassment by local law enforcement authorities, that they were prepared to fly up here on a moment's notice if it continued, and that they could be here in a matter of hours."

  "When did you notify them and make that arrangement?"

  "About a minute from now," Arlene said with a smile. "I also told him Simona had been watching him and listening to his private conversations while he was in his office and at home. Then I asked him if it was true that the party chairman was pressuring him to get me out of town."

  "What did he say to that?"

  "From his reaction, I'd say it was true."

  "What made you think it was?"

  "Oh, just something Richard said the day he came here to arrest me about how he never wanted to become the sheriff because he'd have to kiss the ass of local politicians. I suspected the party chairman was the only local politician who could pressure the sheriff in the way it seemed that someone was pressuring him."

  "And what did the sheriff say to that?"

  "He just told me again to get out of town."

  "We're not going to leave, are we?" Megan asked.

  "Not until we've had a crack at Kamet."

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  "Madam Arlene," Oculara said from the doorway of the reading room, "Father Paul, a local parish priest, would like to speak with you. Should I bring him down?"

  "Uh, no. I don't think he should see the collection of books down here. Can I use your office again?"

  "Of course."

  "Thank you. I'll come up in a moment."

  Arlene carefully closed the very old book she was reading after inserting a slip of acid-free paper in to preserve her place, then rose and walked to the stairs that led up to the office.

  As she entered the office, she found Father Paul waiting.

  "Hello, Father, I'm Arlene Watson."

  "Yes, I've seen your picture in the local newspaper. I've been hoping I would have a chance to speak with you. You've caused quite a stir among the local residents of our small community. Some members of the parish are concerned and came to me for advice."

  "Yes, I know my presence has had an effect on some people. That was unintentional. I merely wanted to help Simona. I never sought any publicity or fame."

  "Nevertheless, the attention of many of our residents has been turned your way."

  "Why have you wanted to speak with me, Father? Are you going to threaten me in some way if I don't leave town today?"

  "Of course not. Why would you even ask?"

  "Because the sheriff has been making threats that I'll be arrested and incarcerated if I'm not gone today. He says my presence here is having a disruptive influence."

  "Our sheriff?"

  "Is there more than one in this community?"

  "Miss Watson, my reason for coming here today is because I've spoken to Maria Gianni. She tells me you've put her in touch with her deceased father."

  "Not exactly. I acted as intermediary and conveyed what Papa Gianni was saying."

  "She says you claim you can actually see him. And Maria said you told her things that only she and her papa could possibly know. She said she's absolutely positive that no other living person on the planet could know the things you told her. That's an interesting trick."

  "It wasn't a trick, Father. Papa revealed that information to me so I could prove to Maria that he really was in the room with us. Uh, are these things she told you while in the confessional, Father?"

  "Yes, but I would never betray the sanctity of the confessional if she hadn't given me permission to speak directly with you about them when I questioned their veracity. Uh, she says she gave you free food after you made some tissues float through the air. Was that the fee for your services?"

  "It wasn't compensation. I tried to pay her for the food that day, but she adamantly refused to take my money. Do you accept payment for helping people, Father?"

  "Of course not. The Church provides for all of my simple needs."

  "But you would accept a meal if you visited one of your parishioners and they insisted you stay for dinner?"

  "Uh, yes, but I usually refrain and return to eat at the rectory."

  "And if they insisted that you take money?"

  "If they insisted, I would take it and put it into the poor box at the church. Has anyone insisted you take money?"

  "I'm independently wealthy thanks to my great-great-great-grandmother, so I also have no reason to charge for my assistance."

  "But I've never claimed to see spirits."

  "Yet you pray to them daily, so you must believe they exist. How many times on the average day do you say, 'In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit?'"

  "Praying to them is vastly different than claiming to see them and have conversations with them. Are you now going to ask me if I've ever seen an electron?"

  Arlene smiled. "I see Maria related quite a bit of our conversation."

  "Yes, she did."

  "Father, I've never understood why God blessed me with this gift that allows me to see and communicate with spirits who have chosen to remain on this plane of existence instead of ascending to heaven after they die, but I'm thankful he, or she, did. My only goal has been to help the spirits and those they've left behind."

  "How did you get the tissues to float through the air to Maria?"

  "I didn't. I don't possess the ability to perform such acts. Papa did that on his own."

  "I've read your book, Miss Watson. One of my parishioners gave me a copy. I found it very— entertaining. Do you really believe you traveled back through time to 1883 and became your own great-great-great-grandmother?"

  "Whether you believe I did or did not is for you to decide, Father."

  "Miss Watson, the Church takes a dim view of con men or women and charlatans."

  Arlene smiled again. "That's amusing, Father."

  "What's amusing about it?"

  "Every religion tells its followers they must accept without question everything they're told to believe. And all without ever seeing the slightest proof that it's true. Isn't that what con men do— make you believe something without providing any real proof that it's true? I'm not saying the Church is populated with con men, only that there are things that sometimes cannot be explained to everyone's satisfaction and may never be proven, but that doesn't mean they're not true. My unique abilities have often allowed me to know what the truth is while others may have to take it on faith."

  "So you really believe in God?"

  Arlene pulled out the gold necklace that was partially hidden beneath her blouse and held up the small gold cross. "What do you think, Father? And I've already said that God has given me the gift to interact with spirits."

  "It would appear you do believe in God. And a Christian God at that."
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  "I believe there is only one God, Father. I believe the different religions that believe their God is the one true God are praying to the same God I worship. They simply refer to our God by different names. We always have to remember that the precepts of every religion have been written not by God but by men who claim to be acting on behalf of their God. Who is to say that the God Christians and Jews worship has not appeared to different people in different ways?"

  Father Paul stared at Arlene for a few seconds before saying, "And you believe there are only two spirits residing here in Lake Georgina."

  "I've said I've only seen two. I would not have seen Simona if she hadn't sought me out, and I would not have met Papa Gianni if I hadn't visited the Gianni Restaurant. There may be spirits here who never leave a house, business, or other place."

  "So there are more?"

  "I don't know, Father. Spirits, if they wish, can manage to cloak their presence from me."

  "So there could be many, many more?"

  "To hide from a true spiritualist such as myself takes a great deal of energy on the part of the spirit. And even then, my gift allows me to sense their presence if they're nearby. On several occasions, I've sensed a presence but not seen the spirit. I can't know if it was Simona, Papa Gianni, or even something such as a demon. But contrary to what many people would have us believe, most souls immediately cross over to the immortal world when their corporeal existence ends."

  "Are there any here now?"

  "In this room? No."

  "You're positive? Even though you didn't look around?"

  "Yes, I'm positive. Unless they've suddenly discovered a way to hide themselves from me completely, I would have sensed their presence even without visual identification."

  "So you believe it's unlikely any spirits are in here?"

  "That's what I believe."

  Father Paul nodded and stared at Arlene for several seconds. "I can understand why so many people believe you're the genuine article. There's no hard sell."

  "But you don't believe me?"

  "I haven't really seen anything to convince me."

  Arlene smiled and asked, "Have you ever seen an electron, Father?"

  Father Paul grinned. "Are we back to that?"

  "Did we ever leave it? Allow me to allay your fears. Your flock has nothing to fear from me, Father. And my religious beliefs do not in any way contradict the basic tenets of your church, or, I imagine, your professed beliefs. Indeed, any religious scholar knows— as I alluded to a few minutes ago— that neither the Christian Bible nor the Jewish Mikra was written by God. The books claim they are the word of God, written by men who claimed to be recounting events that occurred back to the beginning of time, long before there were scholars to record the truth.

  "As an example, 'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. The Earth was formless and void, and darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was moving over the surface of the waters.'"

  "Genesis. The version from the New American Standard Bible."

  "Yes. I believe both Christians and Jews accept it as truth, although the actual words vary slightly from book to book."

  "What exactly is your point?"

  "The same one. We never left— belief. I can't prove to you that I can see and communicate with spirits, and you can't prove to anyone that the Old Testament is an accurate account of what really happened. We must both simply— take it on faith."

  "The Church doesn't accept that ordinary people can see and communicate with spirits, Miss Watson."

  "By ordinary, I assume you mean people who haven't taken the holy vows required by your religious hierarchy. You know Father, the Catholic Church has not always been correct in its judgments and pronouncements. Galileo, for example, was placed under house arrest for the rest of his life by the Catholic Church because he insisted that the Sun, not the Earth, was at the center of our known universe at that time. Moving forward to today, the Church does believe there are spirits. It also still performs exorcisms, so it obviously believes demons still roam the Earth, although it tries to downplay such activities. I will continue to believe in most of the teachings of the Church because I've seen things that remove all doubt from my mind. What you believe is up to you, Father. And— I also know myself to be an ordinary person who can see and communicate with spirits."

  Father Paul took a deep breath and released it slowly before saying, "I don't know if your claims are accurate or if you're delusional, and I may never know. But I believe you believe them and that this is not just some sort of giant hoax being perpetrated on the good people of Lake Georgina. I will not support your claims, Miss Watson, but neither will I speak out against them."

  "Thank you, Father. I don't ask more than that. I believe that when people keep an open mind, they learn a lot more than they ever will with a closed one. But you're wrong on one point, Father Paul. One day you will know that my claims were accurate and that I was not delusional."

  *

  "What did the priest want?" Erin asked when Arlene returned to the reading room.

  "I'm not exactly sure. At first he seemed very concerned that a spiritualist might be a bad influence on his parishioners. He wanted to know how I had convinced Maria Gianni that her father's spirit was still on this plane of existence. Then he wanted to understand how I am able to see spirits while no one else can. But I got the impression there was something else. Something he really wanted to know— but left without asking."

  * * *

  Renee and Madam Elana were exhausted when they finally drove into Lake Georgina. Cancellations and flight delays had added an additional twelve hours to the already long travel time from Prague. It was early afternoon, so they headed for the antiques store. They received a warm welcome home from Gisela, Oculara, Arlene, Megan and Erin.

  "Have the police discovered who killed that reporter?" Renee asked as soon as the greetings were over.

  "We haven't heard anything yet," Arlene said, "so I'm assuming they have no suspects, other than me."

  "You're not really a suspect, are you?" Madam Elana asked.

  "I think they're satisfied I didn't do it, but I'm a convenient scapegoat because I was one of the last people to see her alive."

  "Who else saw her?" Renee asked.

  "The person who killed her, for one."

  "Don't keep us waiting in suspense," Megan said. "Tell us what you wouldn't tell us over the phone. Did you find anything in that book you went to see?"

  "Yes," Renee said. "We found an account of a demon exorcism that appears to be exactly the same as the one we already had here. Word for word."

  "Is that all?" Arlene asked.

  "No," Madam Elana said. "We found something else. Let's go downstairs and sit down. We'll tell you all about it."

  * * *

  "Sheriff Canaar here, Father Paul. Did you speak to the Watson woman?"

  "Yes, I did as you requested, Sheriff."

  "I'm sure you agree she's psychologically disturbed and a disruptive influence in our community— and a danger both to herself and others. If you'll put that in writing, I can have her picked up immediately and transported to a mental hospital for professional medical evaluation where she can't do any more harm to this community or to herself."

  "No, Sheriff, I don't agree with your nonprofessional evaluation. My opinion of Miss Watson is that she's an extremely articulate and intelligent young woman whose feet are firmly planted in reality. She may have certain religious beliefs I don't personally subscribe to, but she's certainly not psychologically disturbed. And I've seen no evidence at all that she represents a disruptive influence in the community or a danger to herself or others. She appears to spend all her days in the offices of the Lake Georgina Antiques Shop, and other than at meal times, she has had little contact with our community members, except where they have sought her out."

  "Oh my God. She's worked her voodoo on you too, hasn't she?"

  "Not at all. We had a long c
onversation and I learned that she's a good Christian with a firm belief in God. I don't know why you're working so hard to railroad her into a mental hospital, but I will oppose any effort to do that. And I can tell you that if you do manage to accomplish that, it's unlikely you'll receive enough votes in the next election to even make a decent showing. I have to go now, Sheriff. One of my parishioners is waiting for me. God bless you and I hope you see the folly of whatever you're attempting to do before you ruin your past reputation for effective and responsible law enforcement."

  Before the sheriff could even respond, the line went dead. As Canaar hung up the phone he released a string of profanities that would have turned the priest's ears red. He would have to find some other way to get rid of the Watson bitch.

  * * *

  State conservation officer Amanda Burtwell froze where she was. She had been walking along the road through a wooded section of state land that was part of her patrol area when she heard digging sounds coming from the bushes. Curious, she stealthily moved through the undergrowth along the road to see where the sound was coming from. Just a dozen feet from the road, she came across a fox trying to uncover something in the ground. The fox was so absorbed in its digging efforts, it didn't hear Burtwell until the officer was within a few feet. As soon as it realized a human was approaching, it disappeared into the nearby bushes. Burtwell suspected that the fox had been trying to dig out a rabbit hole, so she was surprised when she walked over to the dig area and saw what appeared to be part of a white plastic bag sticking up through the dirt. She then assumed that some camper had simply buried their trash instead of taking it with them and disposing of it properly, so she grabbed hold of the bag and pulled. The bag, no doubt partially damaged by the fox, ripped, spilling its contents onto the ground. Burtwell immediately saw bloodstained clothes and might have assumed someone had cut themselves while hiking or cooking if the volume of blood hadn't seemed so enormous. She pulled out her radio and called in a report.

  Her training had taught her not to further contaminate a crime scene, so Burtwell moved back to the road, trying not to make any more tracks than necessary while awaiting the arrival of the sheriff's deputies.