Whispers From Another World: Whintey Powers Paranormal Adventure #1 (Whitney Powers Paranormal Adventures)

by Jason Paul Rice

  The library looked strange with some of the tables missing that had been there since the library opened. The police had taken anything that could be used to help solve the murder.

  She technically worked until ten o’clock every night, but she was allowed to leave after eight if nobody was in the library. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had come in after dark. She checked her cell and decided it was late enough to leave. She walked around to turn the lights off and her pulse quickened. The place had an extra creepy feel to it tonight as she flicked the switches on the right side of the library.

  When she got to the back, a strange light caught her attention. There was a ray of purple light coming from the middle of the supernatural shelf. Whitney walked up to the corner and something fell from the purple light and hit the ground. The beam disappeared and a folded piece of old-looking paper remained on the ground.

  Whitney ran up and grabbed the brittle paper. She carefully opened it and found eight distinct rectangles sectioned off from the fold. In the bottom right section were the words:

  Ten O’clock tonight

  817 Hillsdale Road

  Drive 100 yards past and park

  Walk toward the hill and listen

  She looked at her cell phone again and it was eight thirty. She knew this place. It was supposedly full of ghosts, only every time Whitney went, she never saw any. She thought everyone else scared easily and there weren’t really ghosts there.

  Whitney arrived at nine forty-five and decided to walk back toward the hill. There were a few carved out areas resembling caves at the bottom of the tiny mountain that she used to go into in hopes of seeing her ghostly friends again.

  She heard voices coming from one of the little openings and followed the sound. She noticed the glow of a fire and could have sworn she heard a loud burp. She heard women arguing.

  “Here she comes, get ready, get ready,” one voice said.

  “But I’m still eating,” another voice chimed in.

  “Well, get done eating,” a third voice said.

  “You know I’m a slow eater, just make it a two-person show,” the second voice said.

  “No, it’s always three, you know that. It can’t be two, it’s always three, it’s the stupid tradition we need to carry on,” the first voice said in a forceful tone.

  Whitney got even closer as the second voice said, “I’m not painting my face green, not enough time.”

  “Hello,” Whitney called into the cave.

  A bellowing voice rang out,

  “Come at once, you can come now,

  We have a clue to help you how.”

  Whitney entered the dimly lit area, which contained a black cauldron hanging over a small fire of mostly embers. Two of the women had dark green faces and the other was extremely pale.

  The women were staring at her, so she blurted out, “Hi, my name is Whitney Powers.”

  A tall, plump woman with a green face and black hair with sparkles in it said, “My name is Helga and here we have Melga and finally that is Pelga.”

  Pelga said, “Hi there Wendy. Please tell me you smoke menthols and you have one for me.”

  “Sorry, I don’t smoke menthols. And my name is Whitney”

  “I’ll take a regular smoke too. What do you have?” the woman asked as she rocked back and forth.

  “Sorry, I don’t smoke any cigarettes,” Whitney clarified.

  “Pelga, get back into character,” chastised Melga.

  The cigarette begging witch cleared her throat and said,

  “Alright. Clues will come and clues will go,

  Let’s see what it is we already know,

  A woman’s dead and goes unsolved,

  You are now extremely involved,

  There is a sale for those who die,

  Family must let others buy,

  Go to purchase two special things,

  Not the jewelry, nor the rings,

  Look for leather, all the while,

  Don’t you buy it for the style,

  The contents are what you will need,

  This advice you must heed.” She turned to her green friends and said, “Happy?”

  Whitney asked, “What is going on around here? You guys are playing characters? This all seems so clichéd with the bubbling cauldron and green faces.”

  Pelga screamed, “HA, told you two hamming it up wasn’t going to do anything. This is a smart girl.”

  “Well excuse the hell out of us for trying,” Helga said and directed her attention to Whitney. “We know what most people expect out of witches from the various stories over the years and we wanted to give you a good show while we gave you the information you need.”

  “So who are you?” Whitney demanded.

  “We are local believers of an ancient craft and have been on this earth for more years than you could ever imagine. You don’t know us, but we surely know you. You are the special one or the chosen one and destined for greatness. This is inevitable. We mingle with the spirit world and some mutual friends asked us to give you this little piece of knowledge. Do you understand this clue?” Helga asked.

  “I think so. It’s pretty straight forward. Look for leather.”

  “You’ll be able to find the time and location in the paper, so keep an eye out for it,” Pelga said as she took a bite of her falafel stuffed pita.

  “Perhaps we may meet again, young lady. We are here to serve the spirits and they are fond of you. Hopefully, in the future, we can help you with a lot more than just delivering a clue,” Melga promised.

  “I look forward to that. Have a great night, ladies,” Whitney said.

  She turned to leave and Pelga told her, “Next time, make sure you bring some smokes. Ha, ha, ha, ha.” Pelga laughed like a stereotypical witch.

  Whitney re-emerged into a starry night and walked across the moist blades of grass to get to her car. Lightning bugs flashed in the air as she wondered how this would give her direct evidence that Daniel Elders was the murderer. Whitney drove toward her house wondering why the mob would want to kill a small-town widow whom everyone loved.

  Chapter 4

  Whitney stood among a group of about twenty people at the auction house. The contents of Susan Foley’s estate were up for sale to the general public. Her son needed the money more than his mother’s material goods. She walked around and looked at all the items again. The only leather items were a red jacket and two carrying bags.

  She sat down and waited for the auction to start. She didn’t have much money for bidding because she made a paltry salary working at the Granny Larson Library. She had passed up much better offers to remain near the library at the behest of the ghosts.

  The auction started and Whitney waited anxiously for them to get to the leather items. The jacket quickly went to the front table meaning it was next and Whitney moved to the edge of her seat. She grabbed her bidding card with the number seven and got ready.

  The auctioneer said, “Next up, we have a beautiful red leather jacket, great for any night out on the town. I think the saying, ‘Paint the town red,’ came from this jacket.” The boisterous man laughed. “Alright, five hundred, do I have five hundred?”

  Whoa that’s way more than I can spend. Come on, none of you want to spend that much on a total 80’s jacket.

  She tried to look calmly around the room as her heart thumped.

  The auctioneer said, “How about one hundred, do I have one Benjamin Franklin for this amazing jacket? I can’t confirm this, but this may have belonged to Michael Jackson at one time,” he joked. A very serious look came over the auctioneer. “All kidding aside, this is a gorgeous jacket that any woman should be thrilled to put in her closet. How about fifty, come on, someone has to like this for fifty.”

  Whitney tentatively raised her card.

  “There it is, now we’ve started. I’ve got fifty, fifty to get it going. Seventy-five, who wants it for seventy-five? I’m basically giving it away at seventy-five, who’s in, who’s
in?”

  Whitney could tell by the snickering voices around her that she had overbid and probably could have got the jacket for less.

  “Alright, last chance, last chance. I know somebody needs this jacket but I will sell it if you wait too long. Going once, going twice. Going…now before I sell it, I really wish it fit me so you could see it on. I think that would make a big difference in the bids. Anyone at seventy-five, anyone, anyone. Going once. Going twice. Sold to the lovely lady in the back row.”

  The assistant carried the petite red jacket over and handed it to Whitney. She waited until bidding started on the next item to search the pockets. She didn’t find anything before she got to the inside pocket and found a crumpled piece of paper. She pulled it out and flattened the wrinkled mess, but there weren’t any words to help her. She focused back up front as the two leather bags hit the front table.

  The auctioneer picked them up and said, “Here we have another great item. These are the highest quality leather you can buy. If I could sleep inside these bags, I would. And that’s the rough side of the leather. If you tried to buy these at a retail setting, we are talking thousands of dollars.”

  The man with the microphone stopped and stared at the audience. “Come on now, these are the type of bags you see your favorite Hollywood starlet walking down Rodeo Drive with just to give you a frame of reference. And not just that, but listen.” He shook the bags and said, “Do you hear that? I’m not sure what that is because we do not open these items as they are to be sold as is. I won’t say that there is money inside, but I know what it sounds like to me.”

  Whitney heard a chatter run through the room and worried that some treasure seeker was willing to break the bank.

  The auctioneer spoke in his booming voice, “On this wonderful item guaranteed to make any stylish woman happy, do I have two thousand, do I have two?”

  The room remained silent as the auctioneer went on, “Alright we will go to the low, low, price of one thousand dollars. For that price, you could sell these in the parking lot for double that and make a grand yourself. That’s not even mentioning whatever is inside that could be involved. Alright because I am a nice man and I just want to get some bidding going, I’ll start at one hundred.”

  Whitney saw seven hands shoot into the air. She realized this wouldn’t be cheap but she only had six hundred dollars to spend.

  The sweat from her hand started to moisten her cardboard bidding card as she waited.

  The auctioneer said, “Aha. Everyone thought they were going to steal this. Now that we know there is serious interest I will take one hundred, right here in the red. Now two hundred, do I have two, there it is. I have two over here. Now we’re looking for three, three hundred. Now four, do I have four hundred in the room? Now five hundred, who wants it for five hundred? We have a phone bid coming in at five hundred now.”

  Phone bid? They should have to be here to bid on this. I can’t let this get away.

  “Six, six, six, sorry I don’t want to sound evil but I’m looking for six hundred.” He paused for a few moments. “Now where did all that excitement go? Because this is a tremendous, downright beautiful crowd of people and because I am feeling not just nice, but extra nice, I’ll take five-fifty. Now where’s it at, what’ll you have, looking for five-fifty.”

  Whitney raised her perspiration soaked bidding card and the auctioneer pointed to her.

  “Now we have five-fifty, now it’s time for six. Who wants it for six hundred? What a great deal everyone is missing out on. Looking, looking, looking for six, anybody, six hundred. Don’t slow play this or I will sell it…going once…”

  He stopped again and Whitney thought she was going to pass out from the anticipation. If anyone bid, she was going to have to call Bo and see if she could borrow some money.

  “Seriously people, get in on these bags full of money. Woops, did I say something. Sorry I blacked out for a minute just then. Six hundred dollars is all it takes to get these amazing leather bags.” He pointed around the room again and said, “Six, do I have six? Anyone at all on these bags? Going once, going twice, you will be smacking yourself when this young lady pours hundred dollar bills out of these leather bags. Once again, going once, going twice. And I sold it to the smart young lady who seems to love leather. Enjoy the bags.”

  The assistant brought the bags over and she hurriedly ripped open the zipper of one and looked inside. Her eyes were greeted by hundreds of little slips of paper with writing on them. She quickly closed the bag up and decided to inspect them further when she got home. Everyone around had seen that there wasn’t any money in the bag and word started to go around the hall.

  She didn’t care and took her leather items to the front desk to pay. She thought her bank card was going to punch her in the face when she took it back from the auction cashier. She had to steady her hand to sign the receipt for six hundred and sixty dollars. She didn’t know about the ten percent premium and this almost cleaned out her account.

  She got into her car and went right back into the bag. She picked up a few of the little slips and read them.

  The Oval Downs

  $20 To Win

  #7 Trot to Hot

  The Oval Downs

  $10 Trifecta

  To Win: #4 Eagle Eye Randy

  To Place: #8 Race and Deliver

  To Show: #2 Onyx Spirit

  The Oval Downs

  $50 To Show

  #6 Nefertiti’s Bust

  The entire bag was filled with losing horseracing tickets. A quick estimation showed several thousand dollars’ worth of tickets and she had barely scratched the surface. She thought there must have been nearly a hundred thousand dollars of tickets between both bags.

  She didn’t have time to count them all right now as her date with Trent loomed later in the night. As she got ready, she tried to figure out how Susan Foley could afford to spend that much on horses after hearing her talk about how tight money was. She entertained the idea that they might not be Susan’s bags, but she had seen her with those bags several times over the years.

  Maybe she won just enough to keep the gambling going. You don’t keep the winning tickets. Could this have anything to do with the murder? She was shot dead by what appears to be a mob hit. Maybe she borrowed money and couldn’t pay it back?

  She lay back on her bed and pulled up her black leather pants. She was pleasantly surprised when she didn’t even have to suck in her stomach to zip and button them up. She knew these showed off her nice ass and also allowed her to keep a cool look on the first date. Her mind twisted in every direction as she tried to figure out the murder situation.

  She finished getting ready and slowly paced back and forth, trying not to sweat. Her phone buzzed on the table and a lump started to develop in her throat. Her hand shook as she lifted the slithering phone off the table and unlocked it. One text message awaited her and she tapped the screen.

  “Leaving now. Be by soon.”

  She quickly texted back, “K,” and stared at the letter, wondering if she should write something different. She wondered if OK sounded better or even something like nice, but ultimately tapped send.

  She swept the curtain aside and stared out the window as she waited for Trent. She tried to settle down but that proved to be impossible as adrenaline coursed through her body. She heard a powerful engine revving from far away as an old-school Mustang cruised toward her house. The loud vehicle slowed down and parked outside.

  She waited inside to see if he was going to beep or actually come to the door. She didn’t want him to see her peeking through the window and looking anxious, so she waited inside the door. It felt like an eternity until a firm knock rattled the wooden structure. She thought it was a total cop knock as she straightened herself out. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Trent stood there with a smile on his face and a trio of roses in his outstretched hand. Pink, red and white blossoms provided a sweet, summery smell and she accepted the prese
nt with glee.

  “I’ll put these in water, wait here,” she said.

  Whitney ran to her kitchen and tried to find a cup to leave them in because she didn’t own any vases. She didn’t want Trent coming into her small, messy apartment.

  “Nice place,” his manly voice rang out.

  She nearly dropped the flowers, and managed to say, “Thanks. It’s really messy right now. I have a lot of stuff going on.”

  “I like it. Kind of has a slightly brighter Goth feel to it. I see you like purple, huh?” he noticed.

  “Yeah, I’m really into purple. What’s your favorite color?”

  “Same color as my Stang, black jade,” Trent revealed.

  “That’s cheesy and a contradictory color. Black jade is black, not dark green. I guess it is a lot cooler than all the other guys who say hunter green, which actually means camouflage around here. Shall we go?” she gestured with her hand and Trent went out the door and down to the passenger side of his car.

  He opened the door for her and held her hand as she got in. Whitney’s body radiated with chills as he kissed her hand and gently slammed the door shut.

  “I don’t mind the hand kiss, but you do know it’s a creeper move, right?”

  Trent said, “What are you talking about? That’s a classy move.”

  “Remember this. It’s a creeper move if you kiss a girl’s hand before kissing her lips. Like I said, I don’t mind, but most girls do. This is just for your information.”

  She could see a smirk on Trent’s face from his profile. He said, “Well, I’ll just tuck that away into my book of etiquette. Thank you for the lesson, miss manners.”

  She could tell he was joking and took comfort in the fact that he didn’t become combative during a simple disagreement. Whitney gave Trent directions as they drove. She loved his car. She used to help her father work on cars in the garage and she appreciated the time and effort that went into one of these projects.

  It had been fully restored with all the original parts and the vehicle from the sixties slightly aroused her as Trent shifted gears and sped up. The vibrations caused Whitney to clench her thighs together and she smiled as the back of her head gripped the seat cushioning.