I’ve considered the story of why I’m in a field in Eton Bluff finding a skull in a hole. This is the thing I like least about my profession. I wear my own magenta like a badge of honor, and I rarely indulge nonbelievers. I’ve decided to go with Loren’s spider exterminator cover story. Since people in town are talking about me, I might as well muddle up the chatter.
Gossip isn’t the only reason I’m uncomfortable. The detective is Zeda’s coldhearted Coleman who’s handling Morgan’s case. I’m the psychic medium who’s looking for a sixty year old ghost and the one who probably just found that ghost’s former skull. I should be more worried about her taking me into custody than Mojo. Be polite, keep smiling, but not in a too weird way.
Coleman doesn’t waste time. “How’d your dog find a skull buried in the ground?”
I look at Mojo and back at Coleman. Be polite, keep smiling. “He’s part wolf. Instinct I guess.”
She studies Mojo and writes in her black notebook. Then she asks the question I’ve been waiting for. “You drive all the way from New Mexico to walk in this field?”
“I’m doing work for Spider Central,” I say.
“The nerds in the barn?”
I bite my lip so as not to laugh. “Yes.”
“Computer work?”
“They’re having problems with spiders.” The woman is trying too hard to figure this out in her logical, but slow mind.
“You’re an exterminator?”
“Of sorts.”
She starts to write, stops, and looks up. “So you were looking in the field for what? Spiders?”
“We were on a break.”
She looks at Mojo, I guess to confirm my story. He’s sitting beside me and staring at Coleman. He leans in, sniffs. Very convincing spider hunter.
The detective spends the next fifteen minutes asking me everything from how long it took me to drive here from New Mexico, to where I’m staying, to when I plan on leaving. She demands that I don’t try to leave without informing her. Then she has me write out a statement of everything I’ve already said and tells me to sign it.
I’m looking at the tiny print under the signature line. Under penalty of perjury. I tap the pen on the statement and grimace. I forgot this part. Why I don’t know because this isn’t the first statement I’ve ever given to the police.
“There a problem?” she asks.
I’m about to tell her I might want to add a line about some other work I’m doing in the barn when a shiny black Ford pulls up behind us. Looks like the coroner has arrived. Coleman tells me to hold on and gets out then she leans in and tells me not to go anywhere. Since I’m locked in the back, I think it’s a safe bet I’ll still be here when she returns.
I watch Coleman and the man disappear into the field then turn back to my statement. I scribble spirit between spider and exterminator and sign my name. No penalty for me. Ten minutes later, Coleman returns and lets me out of the vehicle. She isn’t interested in my statement anymore.
“Give me a call before you leave the state,” she says, handing me her card. She hesitates then glares at me. I’m looking at myself in her mirrored sunglasses. “We have a mystery on our hands, but I don’t think I’ll need to talk to you again. Our victim isn’t fresh.”
Fresh? Coleman goes back to the skull. My skin is crawling not just because she said what she did, but because she laughed after she said it. I head back to the barn to let my clients know what’s going on before they hear it from Coleman. Two news trucks fly by me, a guarantee that the skull will make the nightly news.
When I stop in front of the barn, Zeda’s outside jumping up and down. The big red doors are wide open. As soon as I get out of the jeep, she yells for me not to go inside.
“What’s going on?”
“The spiders are attacking,” she says.
Argus is more than just restless now. “Attacking who?”
Todd comes out followed by Owen who’s holding a tall can of bug spray. They all look a little green.
“What happened?”
Owen goes to lie in the grass. Todd says they were working and out of nowhere, spiders were everywhere.
“It was just like when we used the Ouija board, but all we were doing was working,” Zeda says.
“There were millions of them. They’re after me.” This comes from Owen who is flat on his back.
“At least a thousand,” Todd says. “It’s too toxic to work now. Once the fumes clear, we’re shutting down for the day. You’ve got to do something. We’re already behind schedule.”
Interesting. Nearly anything can happen when using a Ouija board or after finding a skull, but I’ve never heard of a spirit who could produce a spider apocalypse. “First off, get rid of the bug spray before it kills all of you. Trust me. I’ve had my own experience with the stuff. I’ll pick up some peppermint oil and make a spray.”
Zeda’s excited. It appears that Owen’s fallen asleep or passed out.
“Second, I think I know what’s going on despite how weird it’s going to sound. We need to keep this confidential. Can you guys agree to that?” Todd and Zeda say they can. “Owen?”
“I can hear you. I’m dizzy. I need to stay here, but yeah, I agree.”
I tell them about Mojo’s adventure in the field, followed by the not so fresh skull. Owen sits up and looks around the ground like he expects to find another head.
“Charlie? I mean Argus?” Zeda asks.
“I’m afraid so. I don’t know how long it will take the police to make the determination, but I’m serious about not discussing this with anyone. The last thing you want is a bunch of people including reporters coming out here to snoop around.” They quickly agree and I almost believe I can count on them to keep their mouths shut.
“So now what? Everything is getting worse. How much longer until things get better?” Todd asks.
“I’m following up on some leads. I plan on spending the night in the barn tomorrow. Once I…. What?”
The three are exchanging looks with everyone but me. Owen falls back onto the grass and Zeda turns her attention to Mojo. Todd is still looking green.
“I got an email this morning from the mom of one of the Spirit Searchers. She hasn’t heard from him.” Todd grimaces. “She’s calling the police.”
I feel sick to my stomach and more than a little upset with myself for not pressing the matter before. They left hundreds of dollars worth of equipment behind. Nobody would do that. For all I know the barn is another crime scene– one that is fresh.
After the mystery skull story is flashed all over the local news tonight and the Spirit Searchers’ mom reports he was investigating a ghost in the barn where a kid fell to his death, we’ll need more than bug spray and peppermint oil to keep out the curious.
I tell the kids to keep me posted then I head to the library in search of anything I can find on Grace Parker. I found nothing online, and I’d like to walk into our meeting tomorrow with a little more than thinking she’s Argus’ young lover, and knowing she’s someone I need to talk to.
The library is as empty as it was yesterday; the dinner hour is respected in Eton Bluff. I get on a terminal while looking around for the gray haired librarian. It seems I’m the only person in the place.
My search efforts are not rewarded. Maybe the woman’s rich and powerful family changed her name and hid her away from the public. Somehow Russ knows her well enough to get me a private meeting. I wish I’d asked him how.
As I’m about to give up on my search, the gray haired librarian steps out from the back room and heads my way with a cart of books. I want to ask her about Grace Parker but fear she wasn’t talking before because they’re old friends. I decide to ask if she knows how to get to Dolton Road. She stops the cart and gives me a knowing grin. I can’t pull anything over on this woman.
She gives me a few rights and lefts then tells me I’ll see the house as soon as I turn onto Dolton. “Big old blue mansion with a wraparound porch and a high iron rod fence
.”
“Are you friends with Ms. Parker?”
“You know, I’m not sure Ms. Gracie has anybody who you would call a friend. She’s more of an acquaintance. She’s lived in that house her entire life. Rarely gets out as far as I know. I hope you have an invite. Otherwise, I wouldn’t waste the gas to get there.”
“What keeps her locked up in that house? Does she have health problems?”
“Oh, probably those anyone in their seventies would have. She likes her privacy. I hope you respect that.”
She starts to walk away then slaps at her arm. A tiny black spider falls to the floor and disappears under a table.
“I don’t know what it is about this spring weather. Everyone I talk to says they’ve never seen so many spiders. It’s like some supernatural invasion.”
Chapter Eighteen
§
Tell me about it, I thought about the librarian’s supernatural spider remark. I’ve got to get the spiders out of Spider Central before Coleman follows the trail back to the barn and the kids. Other than Owen, I’m not counting on the other two’s promises to keep quiet.
After doing my shopping for my spider potion, I go back to the hotel. I have a voice message from Loren. I’m not looking forward to returning her call. Things are definitely getting worse, starting with the breaking news that’s being blasted on the television. “Ancient skull found on Hedge Road by out-of-towner.” It sounds very suspicious put that way.
Of course, the reporters don’t miss the opportunity to include a side note on the open investigation in the death of Morgan Nordquist. Authorities are not connecting the two incidents, but one reporter is cautioning locals to avoid Hedge Road for the time being. At first, I think that’s a good thing then realize it will probably entice twice as many to go out there.
As Morgan’s young face flashes and disappears from the screen, with much amusement, the news anchor launches into the next story: the invasion of creepy, crawly spiders. A university professor is interviewed and says the current weather patterns aren’t to blame for the unusual number of spider sightings. He goes on to say with a throaty laugh that it’s all very supernatural. Perfect.
I can’t imagine the uproar in this town when the reporters reveal the story of the missing Spirit Searchers. The worst case scenario is that every ghost hunter in the state will descend upon Spider Central and the top secret social media startup will crash and burn, as will my job here.
I take a deep breath and call Loren. She’s happy to hear from me, apparently not having watched the local news yet. She’s silent as I swear her to secrecy before I tell her about the skull that I don’t think is as ancient as the media are portraying it. Finally, I tell her about my meeting with Russ and my upcoming meeting with Grace Parker.
“Ms. Gracie?” she says, in an eerie whisper.
I’m excited. “Yes, what do you know about the woman? Loren?”
“I’m here. That was the Spider Central barn?”
“From what I’ve learned so far, yes. Do you know Grace Parker? Do you know the story of Argus Pudge and the barn?” I almost blurt out, Why didn’t you tell me this?
“We lived in Eton Bluff when I was a kid. I may have heard a thing or two about it, but that was a long time ago. I thought it was just gossip. Probably most of it was. I don’t recall the man. Budge?”
“Pudge. Argus Pudge.” I ask Loren to tell me all she knows about the story, but I think the woman’s gone into shock. She tells me her mom knew Ms. Gracie and claims she was a bit eccentric back then, but still as sweet as can be. Then she rattles off what sounds like a church sermon on the sins of adultery.
She says she can’t believe that girl was Ms. Gracie even after I do the math for her. I’m having my doubts that the woman is being a hundred percent honest and before I know it, the conversation veers back to weddings. Fearing Loren will schedule me for a fitting, I change the subject.
“There’s one more thing,” I say, and I sense her cringe. I can understand why the Spider crew were cluelessly unconcerned about the Spirit Searchers, but not Loren. She should have known better. I ask her why she didn’t report them missing.
“You think they’re buried in the field too?”
“Ah, no? I hope not.” Why would she ask a question like that? I admit that spending so much time focused on the spirit world, I often forget how weird the living truly are– though I’m sure that wasn’t a normal response. I skip it and go on to explain how the publicity will not fare well for Spider Central or my investigation.
“Right. Do you think the others are in danger?”
I’m not sure if she means from the living or the dead or both, but I tell her I’m convinced they are taking the necessary precautions in the barn. Then I suggest she recommend they work elsewhere. Having the barn to myself and not having to worry that the kids will invite in every ghost hobbyist who knocks on the door would sure make my job easier.
I realize the barn’s a big adventure for the kids, but they could work just as well out of an apartment or their parents’ basement. I ask her to consider talking to them about it, and we agree to speak again after my meeting with Grace tomorrow.
∞
The next morning, I keep my eyes and ears on the news reports. There are no mentions of the skull, Morgan, spiders, or the Spirit Searchers. A cheating scandal at the local junior high has taken priority, and I’m grateful for the students’ mischief.
After dropping off the spider potion at the barn and stopping for a gift basket and scarf, I double check my directions to Dolton Road. Now that I’m looking at the map, I see that Grace’s mansion is less than five miles from the barn– northeast of the barn.
As soon as I turn onto Dolton Road, I see the towering blue mansion. An iron fence surrounds several acres of land and should anyone be confused, no trespassing signs make it clear that no one is welcome.
As instructed, I call Grace’s number while hoping she remembers our meeting. She does and with bubbly excitement in her voice, which I sure didn’t expect. The iron gate thumps before it slowly slides open.
A woman is standing in an upstairs window dressed in a glowing white gown and watching me. I figure it’s Grace and start to wave, but she’s staring past me. I check around to see what she’s looking at. When I look back, she hasn’t moved an inch.
The gate thumps again and I drive to the front of the house. The Grace stone statue is still in the window. I’m so mesmerized by her or it, I trip while walking to the porch. The door opens before I reach it. An older woman with a quirky smile is greeting me.
“What did you bring me?” are the first words out of her mouth.
Grace Parker is seventy three going on twenty three. Her curly hair is tied in a big gold bow on the top of her head, and unbelievably, that hair is dyed… lavender. She’s wearing a bold green oriental gown and carrying a miniature poodle in her arms who is also dyed… pink.
“I heard you like gift baskets,” I say, walking into the mansion.
“And scarves,” she says, with furrowed brows.
“And scarves.”
She snatches the basket and is talking about how excited she is to meet me while leading the way to a very bright and bold sitting room. She digs through the basket until she finds the scarf.
“Blue, my favorite.” She whips it out and ties it around her hair. The woman looks like a cartoon character. I’m all but forgotten as she goes through the basket and munches on the various sugary treats it contains.
“Now, what can I do for you, Ms. …? Oh me, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Raven. Please call me Jack.”
“Jack? That’s a boy’s name. Who named you that? Don’t your parents like you?”
“My mother liked the name and she didn’t ask my opinion.”
“I’ll call you Ms. Raven. It’s very Poe-ish, don’t you think? Edgar was such a perverse little man. You know Virginia was just thirteen when they married. Aw, the bliss of young love.” This she thinks i
s hilarious then she’s dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “Now what breed are you?”
I choke on the words. Political correctness does not live in the blue mansion. “Breed?”
“Yes, Argie the Seventh here is a miniature poodle. My descendancy is that of the noble and proud Norwegians, most notably Crown Prince Christian Frederick who kicked the butts of the uppity Swedes and went on to become King. I’m royalty. What are you?”
“Navajo and English.”
“A bit of a mutt, but you turned out well enough. Very good, Ms. Raven. Why are you here?”
I’m actually losing my train of thought and have to consider her question for a second. I decide diplomacy will not be required so I launch right into things. “I’m hoping you can help me with a problem that my clients are having in a barn located off Hedge Road.”
“Clients? You sell real estate? I thought you were a writer. I’m a bit disappointed although I do love the scarf, and I have no intentions of giving it back so don’t ask.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Ms. Parker.”
“Ms. Gracie, please. Don’t date me. It’s not as if I’m an old lady.”
Okay, I get it now. Grace is more than a bit eccentric. That explains why I get zapped in my forehead each time I try to visualize her aura. I decide to stop trying.
She probably won’t even remember I was here. What do I have to lose? “Actually, I’m a psychic medium and I’m in Eton Bluff to help someone crossover. Someone I think you know, or rather knew long ago.”
She’s giving me a very serious and curious look while munching on some sort of designer cookie from the basket. “Who?” she whispers.
“Does the name Argus Pudge mean anything to you?”
She looks down at the poodle– Argie the Seventh. Her eyes narrow as she tries to find the one brain cell that holds the memory of the man she once loved so dearly. A full minute passes before a smile lights up her face.
The Eton Bluff Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 4) Page 9
