The Eton Bluff Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 4)

by Robin G. Austin

  “Not today. That was you who got rid of them?”

  “I’d like to say it was my supernatural powers, but I think it was the peppermint spray I gave Zeda.”

  Coleman agrees that it smells fresh in here. She’s walking back to me and there’s a mass of glowing magenta surrounding her. I should have realized her quirky ways weren’t brain damage but a delightful supernatural inclination. It was her hardnosed cop shield that threw me.

  “Cut the jabber, Raven. You talk to Nordquist or not?”

  “Or not,” I say. “I tried but he isn’t communicating. When people first pass, they’re in a sort of limbo stage. Some choose to stay briefly to say goodbye to loved ones. Most realize they’re in spirit and go to the light.”

  She’s nodding her head like she’s heard this all before. “And the rest of them?”

  “Those that stay earthbound for a longer period of time haunt the living. Sometimes they stay because they’re confused and need guidance; other times they want something.”

  “Like how to get even for being murdered?” Coleman still nodding her head, apparently answering her own question.

  “Yes, even if it happened sixty years ago.”

  Coleman’s face goes blank then she smiles, the first smile I’ve ever seen on the woman. She does know about Argus’ murder. As a cop, I should have guessed she would. She’s back at the lunch table drumming her fingers at a steady pace. I could walk out right now and she wouldn’t notice I’d left. Her thoughts are scrambled in the accolades of others.

  At first, I think it’s too bad that her head is smothered in murky, seaweed green. Greed and revenge… or justification and… what? Ah yes, now I get the woman, vindication for every mistake she’s ever made. Unfortunately, I have a feeling there’s been a lot of those.

  Coleman’s the last person I need involved in this job. But bringing Grace here is equally stupid. I take a deep breath and say, “It would be impressive to solve an old murder that never got solved.”

  She stares at me a few seconds before I see the spark of recognition in her eyes. I almost feel sorry for the woman.

  A voice in my head is screaming don’t do it, but I do anyway. If I don’t, I could be in Eton Bluff weeks if not months trying to figure this haunting out.

  “I’ll be here a little after seven tonight with Grace Parker. If you can keep this confidential and behave yourself, you can stop by and see what happens.”

  Chapter Thirty Two

  §

  Coleman’s eyes got big after I told her I hoped to make contact with Argus Pudge with Grace Parker’s help. I could almost see drool on her lip. Then she told me it was time to join the searchers to look for Owen.

  It’s not that I don’t care about the kid but if we are looking for him in the field, all we’re looking for is his body. I don’t need to take that kind of energy to tonight’s lovers’ reunion party.

  With all this negative activity going on in and around the barn, the energy is scattered and likely dangerous. I tell Coleman I’ve got a couple of hours then I need to get ready for tonight. She nods a covert understanding of something she doesn’t have a clue about.

  It’s selfish and maybe cruel what I’m doing to the woman. I’m throwing her an old bone about solving an even older murder case just so she’ll be here to help protect Grace.

  The closer it gets to seven, the more times I change my mind about bringing Grace here. No one can or will tell me what really happened in the barn that night, and Grace has a very selective memory at any given moment. Her comment about Argus nearly attacking her sure doesn’t sound like he was fighting to protect her from his wife. Her lack of recall though won’t save her from a hostile spirit, but a hardnosed cop might at least get her out of the barn before it crashes down on her head.

  Coleman insists on driving me to the far end of the field. I plan on doing my best to get rid of her as soon as we get there. A half dozen more cars are parked on the side of the road. As soon as we get to the open field, we see searchers walking side by side like robots.

  As an officer approaches Coleman, I tell Mojo he can go and he heads to the path where he found Owen’s jacket. If there are any clues left there, they’re gone by now. There are at least two dozen searchers stomping through the thick brush on both sides. Another half dozen are down at the stream where Mojo is headed at an energetic pace.

  I’m meandering in the direction he went when one of the searchers screams that he’s found something. The crowd gathers while trampling down the last bits of evidence. I’m backed up against the tree taking in the action when my phone rings. One look at the number and I say a quick prayer.

  It’s Grace and she’s telling me what Bob did to Laura and Katy said to Mark. I think she’s telling me about her neighbors or relatives or spiders, but it turns out to be her soap opera. She goes on in great detail for a few minutes. That’s okay because I’m watching a real life drama unfolding.

  The officers have ordered the searchers back to the open field. Technicians in hazmat suits retrieve a pair of hiking boots, gray ones like I’ve seen Owen wear.

  “So what time does my photo shoot start?”

  It takes me a second to remember that Grace is on the line. “I’ll be by to pick you up at seven o’clock. Now you did remember this is confidential until publication, right?”

  Grace assures me that her lips are sealed, and she plans on calling her nurse and telling her to stick it tonight. She claims the old bat spies on her and listens to her conversations.

  I watch the officers string more yellow tape around the alleged crime scene, like it isn’t already too late for that. A bullhorn announces that the search is moving to the other side of the field. I listen until the voices fade to silence. Mojo is in the creek trying to catch fish. The dog thinks he’s a bear.

  I take in the peace and quiet for another ten minutes then go to the police tape and find a rock to sit on. I’m sensing fear and frustration and an energy I don’t recognize that I’m guessing is from all the people who were here. Whatever it is, it’s unsteady and draining, and I’m without my rock salt and sage.

  “Owen Thornton, I hate to think you’re in spirit now, but should that be the case, I’d appreciate it if you’d give me a sign that you’re still here. If you’re lost or confused, I can help you crossover.”

  The creek seems louder and the air smells like peanut butter. I’m trying to remember if I ever saw Owen eating a peanut butter sandwich when a blue jay dive bombs me. If the latter is a sign from Owen, I figure he’s not happy about something. The suddenly departed don’t always have the best attitude about their situation, but I’ve still got to try.

  “Owen, if you’re here, I’d like to help you. Speak to me and I’ll understand you.” There’s a cold, wet sensation on my arm and I jump. Mojo is beside me and I swear his lips are curled into a smile.

  “What are you doing? We’re working.” He opens his mouth and drops a munched up spider into my lap. “Thanks a lot. Is this a message from Owen, Argus, or both?”

  We walk back to the opening and I lean out from behind a tree to see if I can spot anyone, especially Coleman. Seems everyone has taken off so I start walking back to the barn. The silence feels like being wrapped in a warm, fuzzy blanket.

  When we get back to the barn, all the cars are gone and the door is still locked. I have the place all to myself. I’m almost excited but all the way back, all I could think about was how conveniently Owen’s things were placed.

  The jacket was laid out in plain sight on a hiking path. The driver’s license was neatly tucked under it. From what I could tell watching the officers collect the boots, they were only a few yards farther in, hidden only by clumps of grass. It’s more than odd that the police didn’t find them yesterday. The boots sure didn’t walk themselves to that spot.

  With the barn door securely locked, I wander around asking spirit gods for guidance. I’m listening and the first thought that pops into my head is: You’re out of ti
me. Good point. As far as this job is concerned, too much time has been spent trying to figure things out. Taking a risk isn’t optional. It’s settled, I’m doing this tonight.

  I check my phone and see that I have a call from Coleman. She says she couldn’t find me after things heated up with the new evidence, but she plans on being at the barn at seven tonight. She warns me not to stand her up. Foolish woman.

  The rest of the afternoon is devoted to clearing the energy with sage and rock salt. The spiders scurry away from the smoke to their hidden underworld.

  I’m in the west end of the barn waving sweet sage smoke into the corners and telling Argus about my ill-conceived plan for tonight. I explain that a lot of time has passed since he’s seen Grace Parker. I tell him he won’t recognize her and that she’s probably gotten a little bit nutty since he saw her last, but that she’s still the same person inside. I don’t even believe that last one myself, so I tell him what I really think.

  “Argus Pudge. I think it’s you who is in this barn. If it is, it’s time for you to crossover. You can’t spend eternity here. I wouldn’t wish that on any spirit. Whether you want to see Grace again or not, you have to resolve this. You must speak what you left unspoken in life in order to go to the light.”

  I’m on my way to the east corner to see if I can connect with the female residual energy again when I hear footsteps upstairs then a crash. Neither sounds supernatural, but I’ve crossed paths a number of times with apparitions who could impersonate the living, though not usually very well.

  “Argus? Is that you up there?”

  If it is, he isn’t talking. Assuming it isn’t a fierce competitor or serial killer, I can think of only one person who might pick this barn to hide in.

  “Owen? It’s Jack. Are you up there? I’m the only one here.” That disclosure could have gone unsaid. “Are you hurt? Do you need help? It’s okay to come down.”

  I’m at the ladder looking up and listening to nothing at all. I call out for Owen a few more times. Minutes pass without a single sound.

  “Argus, if that’s you up there, don’t be shy. Whatever happened that night is over and done with. I want to help you leave this place. Your spirit is forgiven. It’s time for you to forgive yourself. Argus—

  Chapter Thirty Three

  §

  Just as I said Argus’ name, tiny, hairy legs walked across my face. I’m batting a tiny black spider away and wiping off its sticky cobwebs when a bunch of hay from the loft spills over me.

  I was so busy looking up at the loft to see who or what is up there that I didn’t notice along with the hay, an army of spiders came down too and have surrounded me like hungry buzzards. Several are marching up my legs. I jump on the bale of hay and start knocking them off. Mojo is busy catching them while ignoring the loft.

  It’s getting dark out and I’m letting myself get spooked and royally creeped out. Worse, I think the spirit in this place wants my full attention and it’s found a way to get it. “Listen,” I tell Mojo, and he stops his crunching to look around.

  Like it or not and I don’t, I have to go up and check out the loft. And I have to go now if I’m going to have time to steady my nerves before I pick up Grace. Unless it won’t be necessary to bring her here after all. “Argus, are you ready to end this haunting? I’ll help you. Just give me a sign– other than more spiders.”

  I’m not afraid that Argus or some other spirit is up there. I’m afraid someone very much alive is. Someone who isn’t talking. That unnerves me enough to consider leaving and hope they go too once I’m gone. I need more than hope though before bringing a seventy three year old woman back here with me. I also can’t ignore what damage the negative energy is doing to the space I worked so hard to clear.

  I’m stalling while trying to convince myself that a gang of spiders got together and decided to counterattack me for supplying the deadly peppermint nerve gas that killed off half their village. It’s a possibility.

  “I’m going up,” I tell the wolfdog. “Wish me luck.”

  I’m three steps up when I think the lights sway on their hangers. I wait and watch then decide it was my hyped-up imagination. “Coming up,” I yell. “Last chance to make your presence known.”

  When I get to the top of the ladder, I pull a flashlight from my pocket and spray the light from one side to the other. The loft is about half as wide and half the length of the barn. The lights downstairs are doing little more than casting shadows across the front end. The back is as dark as a closed coffin and at this distance, all my flashlight does is form a foggy tunnel of gray light.

  The first day I was here, I’d walked to the back. A half dozen or more bales of moldy hay were all that I saw, and they were plenty big enough for someone to hide behind. I look back at Mojo who is looking up at me. I can tell by the shape of his muzzle that he’s got a spider in his mouth and he’s waiting to give it to me.

  I step carefully off the ladder and wave my flashlight again while listening, but mostly stalling. “Anyone up here?” Like they would answer me at this point. Just in case it isn’t the living, I throw some rock salt in front of me. Headless Argus has a reason to be angry.

  I start walking to meet my fears and hopefully the dead instead of the living. I’m moving the flashlight right and left and up and down in front of me so I don’t trip over a pitchfork or whatever tools they kept in this old barn. Every few steps, I stop to listen. Listen for someone moving or breathing or getting ready to leap out to greet me.

  The bales of hay are stacked high. I don’t recall that they were before. The mold spores are making my eyes water and my throat itch. “Owen? It’s Jack Raven. Are you up here? We’ve been looking for you. It’s okay to come out.” I start to say again that I’m alone but catch myself.

  It’s so quiet now that when I toss more rock salt, I think I hear it hit the floor. The screeching critters I heard back here that first day seem to be gone. I move to the wall and walk next to it so I can come around the side of the bales.

  When I get to the first three, I listen then slide behind them. There’s nothing but tiny spiders who scurry away from the beam of my flashlight. I pause to stare at four more bales across the room that are nicely wedged between the back and side walls. That’s exactly where I’d hide if I was up here.

  “Owen? Anyone? It’s time to come out. Time to go home. I’ve got work to do.”

  I’m fighting off a sneeze and working up my courage to start walking. It won’t take me more than ten seconds to check the area and be done and gone. I’m making this too big of a deal, and I’m making myself mad.

  After a quick prayer, I listen to the silence, listen for the living and the dead. I relax after hearing nothing for my efforts.

  “Argus Pudge? If you’re up here, know that I’ve come to help you go to the light. Stop hiding in the dark. It’s time for you to go or tell me the reason you think you need to stay.”

  I take two steps then a few more. I can see the dark corner in the gray fog of my flashlight. My back is pressed to the old wood as I come around the bale. A dozen or so spiders scatter in the light, and I slump against the wall.

  The living aren’t here, the dead are silent. As I walk around the bale to the other side, I feel foolish and greatly relieved, at least about the living. I do another swipe of the dark end of the loft. It’s just me and an old barn with hay throwing, vengeful spiders, and a spirit that isn’t willing to communicate– yet.

  I throw rock salt at the spiders and say a prayer to clear my own fearful energy then I head back to the frontend. I’ve wasted time that I could have used to get a decent meal, but I don’t doubt I’ve gotten the spirit’s attention. Tonight, we meet– hopefully for the first and last time.

  I’m about to step out of the dark and am stuffing my flashlight back into my jacket when I get slammed in the head by what feels like a sledgehammer. I hit the floor with a thud and the sledgehammer comes back with a high pitched screech that only bats can make. They fly clos
e again and I cover my head then peek out, ready to get up and out of the loft.

  My flashlight’s rolled away but the place isn’t dark. I’m looking at the backend. On the top of the rafters, the entire wall is lit up by tiny red demon eyeballs. Where did they come from? No doubt there are openings in the back where they can squeeze through, but I don’t think they’re acting alone. These are devil bats who have lured me into their trap with a little supernatural help from a restless and apparently, a very angry spirit.

  I scream like a two year old and jump up while waving my arms. Mojo’s heard me and lets out a terrifying werewolf howl, which causes more bats to scatter in my direction. I scream again because I can’t not, and the wolfdog howls even louder. I’d rather be covered in spiders than have one single bat tangled up in my hair. If it wasn’t for the creep factor and threat of rabies, it would almost be funny at this point.

  I reach the front of the loft, still waving my arms like a windmill. Don’t go down the ladder half out of your mind, I tell myself. I take a quick, deep breath, grab the ladder, and am half way down when I hear the deafening sound of a gunshot. I’m frozen while trying to figure out if it was real or what the kids heard the night they used the Ouija board.

  I’m crouched down, hanging on the ladder thinking Argus is finally ready to make himself known to me when there’s another blast. This one blows a hole in the barn’s door. That’s something no spirit I’ve ever known could do.

  “Hey,” I yell. “Someone is in here.” That proves not to be the smartest thing to announce.

  Two more shots go through the door and I drop to the floor.

  Chapter Thirty Four

  §

  I know someone is in the barn, but Mojo isn’t attacking so I figure I’m not about to be murdered. I landed on the bale of hay again and am seeing stars. I don’t think much damage has been done, but I can’t be sure because the wolfdog is sniffing my body like I’m dead. He leaves me and I look up to see Coleman staring down at me.