The Supernaturals

by David L. Golemon

  “Feel like seeing Summer Place?”

  He sat quietly, long enough that she began to think he hadn’t heard her question.

  “Yes, I think it’s time. I’m ready to see it.” He looked over to her. “From the outside.”

  “You don’t want to go in?”

  “We’ll save that for your big night. It would be better for your cameras. Suspense, I guess you’d call it?”

  “Yes, that’s what we call it.”

  She put the car in gear and drove away from the hospital.

  Kennedy was silent for most of the forty-five minute drive to the house. Julie took her time, watching Kennedy for any kind of reaction as they made their way closer to the property. Gabriel kept his eyes closed most of the way. It wasn’t until they were almost right above Summer Place, near the spot from which the UBC crew and Kelly Delaphoy had first caught sight of the house a week before, that Kennedy’s eyes suddenly popped open. It was like watching a small animal sense the shadow of a predator flying over its hiding place.

  “May I ask, off the record...What are you feeling?”

  Gabriel looked over at Julie. He was feeling that anything was preferable over looking into the small valley below where the beast waited patiently.

  “I don’t know. It’s not fear, though I am fearful. It’s not confidence that I’m right about what that house is, because I am not confident. And it’s not the overwhelming feeling that it’s expecting me back, because how could it?” He shook his head. “I am afraid, but not of the house. I’m afraid I won’t be able to kill whatever is in there.”

  The conviction of Gabriel’s beliefs burned brightly in those few words. Julie was beginning to see that she would have more than a hard time proving Kennedy was a nut, or a stone cold liar. Years ago, he had been like an eyewitness to a tragedy, expected to give a full and complete statement immediately. She never realized that his perspective would have changed and developed confidence once he’d had time to absorb what had happened; she and Detective Jackson had never allowed him up for air. As she drew around the corner and the house became visible through the trees, she found cold chills running the length of her arms. Gabriel’s fervor had been convincing, even to her. It was like he was capable of pulling back a curtain to allow you to see what the possibilities really were.

  “Jesus,” he whispered to himself.

  The property looked quiet. The Johanssons were still in Bright Waters attending to Jimmy. The house was brilliant in the dazzling sunlight and the sparkles coming off the pool dappled the awnings and deck chairs with a beautiful, otherworldly glimmer. Julie watched his face as he took it all in. It was like witnessing a soldier as he went back to a place of battle where he had lost friends in a long ago war. He reached up to remove his glasses, absentmindedly cleaning his lenses with a handkerchief. He seemed to be soaking up the view from a distance, but he also looked like a rabbit ready to spring at any moment.

  As the car crept down the long hill toward the house, Julie was kicking herself for not taping what Kennedy had said. Not for the television show, but as some sort of record for her personal use—maybe as a talisman that would later prove just how right she had been about Gabriel’s mental makeup and his capacity for doing what she and Damian Jackson had accused him of: the glorification of an event for later celebrity.

  As the house grew in the windshield, Julie saw a large car parked off the road just outside the gates. A large man was leaning on the hood. State Police Lieutenant Damian Jackson watched the house from a distance. Julie started to pull into the entrance.

  “We can avoid this if you want,” Julie said. “I’ll just turn right around and head back to town.”

  “Why?” Kennedy asked, placing his wire rimmed glasses back on. “Neither you nor he have ever intimidated me. Honestly, I would much rather have you both where I can see you.”

  As the car pulled to a stop, Kennedy opened his door and stepped out without hesitation. Ignoring the police detective, he walked straight to the gates. Julie stepped out too, watching Kennedy bypass any greeting to Jackson. Then she watched the black state policeman as his dark eyes followed the professor.

  “So, have you transferred permanently to the thriving metropolis of Bright River, foregoing the small city challenges of Philadelphia, Lieutenant?” Julie called.

  Damian Jackson removed his hat and tossed it onto the hood of his car.

  “No, no transfer. Vacation time. Halloween has always been a favorite of mine.”

  Jackson spoke to Julie, but his eyes remained on Gabriel Kennedy’s back. The professor studied Summer Place quietly through the large beams that made up the front gate.

  “Did you receive the invitation to the big event here on Halloween?” Julie stepped casually in between Jackson and Kennedy, allowing Gabriel the time he needed.

  The large state policeman reached into his coat and retrieved a large envelope. Then he pulled out the check that had come inside it.

  “Handsome reward to give someone who just wants to do his duty, wouldn’t you say?”

  Jackson smiled, watching her face as he slowly, deliberately ripped the two hundred thousand dollar certified check in two.

  “Does that mean we won’t have the pleasure of your company on the thirty-first of October?”

  Jackson stepped around Julie and made his way to the silent Kennedy. He stood beside him and, like Gabriel, took in the view of Summer Place.

  “Tell me, Professor, how it feels coming back,” he said, gazing out at the house.

  “You mean, how does it feel returning to the scene of the crime?” Gabriel asked, looking over at Jackson with a smile.

  “Something like that.”

  “I think it’s the same for both of us.” He half turned, acknowledging Julie. “Excuse me, all three of us.”

  “The Lieutenant just tore up his compensation for attending on Halloween, Professor,” Julie said. This visit wasn’t turning out at all like she expected. Gabriel was just too cool and collected, seeing the house for the first time in so many years.

  “Is that right?” He smiled. “Well, that’s about what I expected. The Lieutenant’s always been more of a ‘wait until they hang themselves’ kind of guy. Watch from the sidelines and then piece it all together later—no matter if the puzzle pieces fit or not.”

  Jackson chuckled. “Just because I can’t accept your money, doesn’t mean my investigation won’t continue. I’ll be there on the thirty-first, on two conditions.”

  “Okay, I’m waiting,” Julie said. Kennedy turned and looked at Jackson, too. Now he seemed interested.

  “One: there will be no camera shots of me. I am officially not there that night. No mention of me in your script and no mention of my name on any electronic media. Two: I want ten minutes with Kennedy alone on the third floor before the night is done. You see,” he held the professor’s gaze, “I believe the good Professor Gabriel here is going to give up far more than the ghost that night. He’s going to make my case all by himself, and I’m going to take him into custody for murder. And that, you can film all you want.”

  Jackson turned his gaze toward the house once more. “Now that’s pretty good, Miss Reilly. If your network can pull off the small stuff like that, then we may be in for quite a funhouse ride on Halloween.”

  Julie and Kennedy turned back toward the house in silence. Both of the large front doors were standing wide open and every window blind in the house had been raised. It was as if the house was welcoming them all back, inviting them inside so the party could start early.

  Lieutenant Damian Jackson turned away, laughing at what seemed to be a clever prank. He picked up his hat from the hood and placed it on his head at a jaunty angle.

  “Yes, ma’am, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” He opened the car door and then looked back at the house. “Yes, ma’am...Nice touch, with the doors and windows.”

  “Well, I guess that makes the guest list complete,” Julie mused.

  Gabriel said
nothing. His eyes were still glued to the open front doors of Summer Place.

  ten

  UBC Network Headquarters

  New York, New York

  The next day, the large conference room at UBC headquarters played host to Professor Gabriel Kennedy’s invitees. George Cordero, at the wet bar in the corner of the large room, tried mentally to size up the others. They had introduced themselves earlier, with the exception of the small woman who sat in a chair in the far corner near the window instead of at the conference table with the rest. Her bloodshot, darkened eyes looked out over the Manhattan skyline.

  The large Indian sat quietly at the center of the table. George knew that although the large man didn’t look around, the ponytailed lawman from Montana had already evaluated each of them. John Lonetree was dressed in black slacks, a white shirt with string tie, black sport coat, and black cowboy boots; his black cowboy hat sat on the table in front of him. George looked away and plopped ice into the cut crystal glass.

  Cordero next surveyed the small black man sitting beside the Indian. He had introduced himself as Leonard Sickles, and then quickly told them all to call him “Too Smart” instead. Leonard was not as well dressed as the big man next to him. He wore tan Dockers with a red polo shirt. He was doodling on one of the expensive notepads that had been placed at every seat around the table. Every once in a while the black kid would look up suddenly, as if he expected the police to break in at any moment.

  Cordero poured the expensive whiskey, then considered the small woman at the window, who seemed even more out of place than the rest of the menagerie at the table. She didn’t move at all, wasn’t the least bit curious about her surroundings, and every once in a while she would look up and to her left as if someone were sitting next to her. She would frown, her delicate brow pinching as if she were about to cry. The short-haired woman looked like a lost soul. She had not said a word.

  George moved to his chair across from John Lonetree, and smiled as he sat. Lonetree looked Cordero in the eyes for the briefest of moments, and then looked away. He sat up a little straighter and then glanced at the door. The Indian raised his index finger and pointed to the conference room’s large double doors. At that very moment, the doors opened. Lonetree’s smile grew and he winked at Cordero.

  Julie Reilly, Kelly Delaphoy and Lionel Peterson entered the room, followed by the man who had been introduced to them earlier as Harris Dalton, dressed in a blue shirt and tan sport jacket. Behind the mysterious project’s director, Professor Gabriel Kennedy entered, clean shaven and carrying a small briefcase. He stood rooted just inside the door for a moment, looking at each of his friends in turn. Then he smiled and came forward, laying his briefcase on the table as the others settled in around it.

  “John, I hoped you would come,” he said, taking the larger man’s hand in his own.

  Lonetree slapped the hand away and took Kennedy into an embrace, patting his back so hard that Gabriel thought it would knock the wind out of him.

  “What can I say? Rez life ain’t what it used to be—figured I needed some crazy shit to lighten my burden.”

  Leonard Sickles waited patiently until John released Kennedy. Gabriel smiled and took Sickles by the shoulder. “Hello you little shit, how are things in the hood?”

  “Too Smart” smiled and slapped Kennedy’s outstretched hand.

  “Man, the hood don’t have nothin’ on those vultures in the business world. Those cats are dangerous!”

  “I told you when we last spoke, watch out what you ask for—”

  “Yeah, yeah—I just may get it. Well, I got it.”

  Kennedy gave Sickles a low five and then turned his attention to Cordero, who stood on the far side of the table. He was admiring Kelly Delaphoy’s ass as she leaned over to place her own case by her chair. He looked up and raised his eyebrows twice. The last time Kennedy had seen George, he had been performing on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood to sold-out crowds. He hadn’t spoken to him since his arrests on several embezzlement and fraud charges. Kennedy just smiled and pointed a finger at Cordero, who held up his hands in a mock surrender.

  Jennifer Tilden hadn’t even seemed to notice that the others had filed into the room. Kennedy approached her slowly while the others took their seats around the table.

  She had been cleaned up nicely and dressed well. She was wearing a green skirt with no stockings and a nice blouse covered by a sweater. She sat with her hands together, watching the goings-on in the city below. Her hair had been styled severely but neatly, suiting her pretty face. Kennedy knelt beside her and lifted her chin with his hand.

  “Hi, Jenny,” he said, smiling into her tired face.

  A slow moving smile started to brighten her face.

  “Hello Gabriel. I see you’re trying to get back into business again.”

  Kennedy touched her cheek.

  “How’s Bobby Lee?” he asked.

  Jennifer looked away, out the window once again.

  “Oh, he’s been pointing out all the changes down on Seventh Street. He says the town’s going downhill fast.” She smiled wider and then looked up into Gabriel’s concerned face. “Did you know he recorded his last album right here in this building, just before…before...” she trailed off.

  Gabriel frowned gently. “I think Bobby Lee needs to layoff for a while, Jenny. It’s nice that he’s taking you on a tour of memory lane, but it wasn’t you who had him killed, and it wasn’t you who led him to deal with the worst elements of the music industry.” Kennedy stood and took her hand. “Why don’t you join us at the table, and I’ll explain what it is we need you for—what we need you and Bobby Lee for.”

  Jennifer Tilden tried to smile, but failed miserably. Still, she allowed Gabriel to assist her from her chair and lead her toward the conference table. Before sitting, Jennifer pulled out an empty chair to her right. She sat, then looked expectantly at the empty seat next to her. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but Gabriel leaned over and whispered in her ear. She lowered her gaze to the shiny tabletop. She didn’t look back up, but she did slide her notepad over to the space in front of the empty chair.

  Kelly and Julie exchanged looks.

  Lionel Peterson rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Professor, I have a busy day planned. There’s more to my job than seeing to Kelly’s wants and wishes.”

  Kennedy’s dislike for Peterson had been instant, the moment they had been introduced at a breakfast meeting that morning. The man was a schemer, and was not to be trusted any more than Delaphoy or Reilly.

  Gabriel walked to the head of the long conference table. He looked at the faces of the only people he trusted—his old friends.

  “John, I’ll start with you.”

  Lonetree eyed Gabriel. He already knew what was wanted of him. He knew he could deliver, but wondered if Kennedy remembered the toll it would take on him to do so.

  “Ms. Delaphoy, we will need you to contact Mr. Lindemann to request several items from Summer Place for Mr. Lonetree’s use.”

  Kelly started writing on her notepad. “Such as?”

  “A family portrait, a dish or two, a piece of the drywall, water from the pool, hay from the stables, silverware—”

  “What this is for, Professor?” Peterson asked, raising his right brow as if that alone was enough to show Kennedy that he was still in charge.

  “I’ll explain when I’m done.”

  Peterson bit his lower lip, stopping the demand that was about to burst out of his mouth. He dipped his head forward in a brief, sharp nod.

  “Thank you. John needs a sampling of the house. In particular, anything from the upstairs. Bed linen, a swatch of wallpaper, a piece of drywall, anything. You’ll see to that, please?”

  Kelly finished writing, then looked up as if to ask if there was anything else.

  “Can you add to the list, John?” Kennedy asked.

  “That may be a good start. But with less than four days until Halloween, I need the items overnighted if possib
le.” He smiled at Gabriel. “I’ll only have two nights in which to travel.”

  Kennedy returned the smile and then looked at the curious faces around him. “Dream Walking runs in John’s family. By keeping items from the house close around him, John may be able to feel something that may help us in the long run, and it may help him key in on something during your broadcast.”

  Julie glanced over at Lionel Peterson, who closed his eyes and shook his head.

  “I hope you’ll let us in on whatever Mr. Lonetree comes up with so it can be used on the air?” Peterson said.

  Kennedy again didn’t answer Peterson; he turned back to Kelly instead.

  “Do you foresee a problem with acquiring those items, or similar ones?”

  “When you deal with Wallace Lindemann, you don’t foresee. You know. Yes, he will bitch and complain, but he’ll do what’s asked.”

  “Good, because if he doesn’t, I’ll need you to get out there and steal the items I have asked for—it’s key to the overall assault plan on Summer Place.”

  “Assault?” Peterson asked.

  “Yes, that’s the only word that fits. We have to assault that house. Its defenses will be up, and I already know its offensive capabilities.”

  Peterson smiled and shook his head again. “I hope you’re writing down everything Professor Kennedy is saying, Kelly. It should make for one hell of a script.”

  Kelly looked up from her notepad. Before she could retort, Peterson nodded to Kennedy. “Continue, Professor.”

  Gabriel walked around the table to Leonard Sickles, who was still doodling on the notepad in front of him.

  “Leonard, we come to you. The Infra-Spectroscope—how’s it coming?”

  Leonard felt the pressure of Gabriel’s hands on his shoulders—still the only man alive that Leonard trusted enough to touch him. The young man ripped the first four pages from his notebook and lifted them into the air. Gabriel took them and glanced over them. While they had thought the small black man was doodling, he had actually been working.