“No, this is a place of business.”
“I got nowhere else to go,” Carl said. “I tried hiding out in Lowe’s and Ikea but they’ve got much better security. Can’t you guys show a little sympathy?”
He directed this last comment over Basil’s shoulder to Amy, Ruth Anne, Matt, and Trinity, who were all standing right behind Basil.
“My wife’s got my little girl,” Carl continued, “and I can’t visit with her until I’ve got some kind of place to live that’s not a shelter bed. So I took the bus out here to fill out a job application and I was walking around thinking, This place is way better than the shelter, you know? And so I sort of stuck around. You got great prices in the café.”
“You’re a victim of the economy,” Basil said, offering something.
“You can say that again,” Carl agreed.
Amy saw Basil get a shifty, thoughtful look, and she knew he had found his teachable moment. After spending most of the night trying to establish his authority, he was finally going to close the deal.
“I’m afraid this isn’t my decision to make,” Basil said. “Here at Orsk, we’re a team. And as a team, we make our decisions together. That’s called Orsk-Mindedness.”
“It is?” Amy asked.
Basil went on. “Either we can let Carl walk out of here or we can call the police, but we will all vote and make the decision together.”
“No police,” Carl said. “Please.”
“I’ll vote first,” Basil said, “and I vote police.”
“Me, too,” Matt said. “He could have hurt Trinity.”
“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Carl protested. “Look, take me downstairs, snap a photo of me, and post it on your wall of shoplifters, so I can’t ever come back here again. Then kick me out the front door like a dog. It’s punishment enough to have to get back to Cleveland in the middle of the night; the shelters won’t be open, but I’ll go right now and I won’t ever come back. Please, guys, I can’t afford to get arrested. It’ll just be more ammunition for my wife to take to the judge. You know, it’s a war on fathers out there.”
“I vote to let him go,” Ruth Anne said. “The poor man has had enough hardship in his life.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Carl said, sticking out his hand. “Pleased to meetcha. Thank you.”
“Yeah,” Trinity said. She had finally stopped sobbing. “I don’t care. Whatever. Let him go.”
Now they all turned to Amy. It was a tied vote, two to two. Like Ruth Anne, Amy didn’t see the point in further punishing the guy. He was caught, and everything had a rational explanation. Maybe now Basil would call off the search and let them go home early.
“We should let him go,” she said. “We’re going to call the cops because of what? He didn’t want to sleep in his car? I don’t want to sleep in my car.”
“I don’t have a car,” Carl said.
“All he did was break some stuff,” Amy continued, ignoring him. “It’s not even our stuff. Orsk can afford to replace it. Look, you got the guy messing with the store. Let’s clean up and call it a night. Let him go.”
“Fine,” Basil said, irritated.
“Did I win?” Carl asked.
“You won,” Amy said.
“Yes!” Carl shouted. “Thank you!”
He ran to Trinity and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her up in a bear hug. The mood shifted radically. Maybe it was relief after all the tension, but everyone except Basil was suddenly possessed by a spirit of giddy euphoria.
“There’s one tiny problem,” Ruth Anne said. “Amy already called the police.”
“What?” Basil said. “Why? I specifically told you not to do that.”
“I panicked,” Amy said.
“Call them back,” Carl said. “Tell them not to come.”
“That’s not how it works,” Ruth Anne said, shaking her head. “You see it on Cops all the time. Once they get the call, they have to show up.”
“I’m sorry,” Amy said.
Basil cast an annoyed glance in her direction. “I’ll fix this. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’ll go downstairs and stand outside. I’ll wait for the police and I’ll complete the necessary paperwork, tell them it’s a false alarm. Once the coast is clear, we’ll kick Carl out of here. Seem fair?”
“Whatever you say,” Carl said, pumping Basil’s hand. “I owe you everything. Thank you for being a good guy. Thank you!”
Basil managed to extract his hand. “Everybody stay here until I get back.”
“Again, thank you,” Carl repeated.
“Enough already,” Basil said, and he set off toward the front of the store.
Carl went around shaking hands with everyone, introducing himself and learning their names. “I really appreciate your vote,” he told Amy. “It’s a good thing you’ve done for me tonight. You’re good people. I won’t forget it.”
“Uh, thanks?” Amy said, embarrassed.
An awkward silence ensued. Dining Rooms wasn’t the best place to kill time, and they all acknowledged the moment with forced smiles.
“Did anyone bring cards?” Ruth Anne joked.
“This whole night is ruined,” Trinity said.
A tinny snatch of music played from Amy’s pocket. She pulled out her cell phone and answered it. “Hello?”
“This is the Brecksville Police Department dispatcher. Did you call 911?”
“Yes, but—”
“And your address is 7414 River Park Drive?”
“It is, but we don’t need—”
“How do you get there?” the dispatcher asked.
“It depends which way you’re coming,” Amy said. “Don’t you guys know this? You take any exit along Cuyahoga and you get on the feeder road. There’s not an exit from the highway.”
“So they have to get on the feeder road?” the dispatcher asked.
“Yeah,” Amy said.
“I’ll let them know. If we have any more problems, can I reach you at this number?”
“Sure, but my battery’s getting low,” Amy said. “Also, you guys don’t need to come because—”
The dispatcher hung up.
“The bad news is that the cops are still coming,” Amy said. “The good news is that they’re lost.”
“This is turning into a long night,” Ruth Anne said. She turned to Matt. “Did you two find any ghosts?”
“Not unless you count Carl,” Trinity said.
Matt sat down heavily on one of the Scopperloit chairs.
“Tonight’s been all teasing and no pleasing,” he said. “Without a money shot, our reel is going to be all buildup and no payoff.”
Carl noticed that Matt was carrying a video camera. “Wait, you guys are ghost hunters? Like on A&E?”
“Would everyone stop talking about A&E?” Matt said. “There are other channels.”
“They want to be on Bravo,” Amy explained to Carl.
“With the Real Housewives,” Ruth Anne added helpfully.
“But ghosts only haunt houses,” Carl said. “Everybody knows that.”
“This is a building with bedrooms, bathrooms, kitchens, and dining rooms,” Matt said. “If that’s your definition of a house, then Orsk is a house. ‘A Home for the Everyone.’ People come here all day long just to hang out, eat meatballs, leave their kids in Playland, browse, have coffee. You said it yourself: this place was your home.”
“I guess so,” Carl said. “Huh. Yeah, when you put it like that. This place does get pretty spooky after hours. You could have a séance in here.”
He laughed to himself but stopped when he noticed Trinity staring at him. Carl grew uncomfortable as Trinity kept staring. He shifted around a little, but she was boring into him with her eyes.
“What’d I say?” he asked. “I wasn’t making fun of you or nothing. Honest.”
“You’re a genius,” Trinity said. “You. Are. A. Genius!”
“I am?” Carl said.
“Matt,” Trinity said. “Get the gear! We
’ll have a séance!”
“Viewers love séances,” Matt said, warming up to the idea. “And they come across great on camera.”
“We’ll grab candles from Home Decorations,” Trinity said. “And use the Frånjk for the table. The one with the black finish. It looks like the hood of a hearse.”
“We’ll have to hurry before Basil comes back,” Matt said.
“I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon,” Amy said. “But you still have one major problem. Isn’t the store too bright for a séance?”
Matt looked down at his wristwatch and at that moment nearly all of the store’s six hundred eighty fill lights clicked off at once, plunging the Showroom into a twilight gloom. A thousand shadows leapt from their hiding places. The furniture suddenly seemed strange, oversized, bigger than it ought to be. Ruth Anne let out a little yelp.
“Happens automatically,” Matt said. “Every night at 2 a.m.”
“Perfect timing,” Trinity said, grinning at the others. “Now, who’s in?”
After they convinced Ruth Anne that what they were doing was not “satanic” in any way, shape, or form, the next big objection came from Amy.
“I don’t want to hold hands,” she said.
“Trust me,” Matt said. “I have a way to complete the circle without holding hands.”
The final obstacle was convincing Carl to participate. Matt explained that three participants would not offer enough production value and that four people would look too symmetrical on camera. “The best-looking séances always have five people,” he said. “It’s five or nothing.”
“It feels a little spooky,” Carl said. “But I guess it’d be rude not to.”
With everyone on board and the clock ticking against Basil’s return, Matt and Trinity ran around the Showroom like hyperactive puppies. The few remaining fill lights afforded just enough illumination for them to find their way around. Matt hauled over a couple of gear bags and set up the tripods and cameras. Trinity ran down to the Market Floor and galloped back with a box of vanilla-scented votive candles that she deployed around the dining room display. By the time she was finished, it looked like a romantic lovemaking scene in a made-for-TV movie.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Amy said.
“Believe it,” Matt said. He positioned the cameras around the Frånjk in a loose circle and then dropped an EMF reader in the center of the table.
“The Ghost Bomb audience is going to love this,” Trinity said.
“But a séance doesn’t actually summon anything, does it?” Ruth Anne asked.
“Sure it does,” Trinity said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Amy said.
“We’ll have a great reel no matter what,” Matt said. “There’s no way to screw up footage of a séance.”
Once they were finished setting up, Trinity directed everyone to their seats. Carl took the end of the table, with Trinity on his left and Ruth Anne on his right. Matt sat beside Trinity, across from Amy.
“And now,” Matt said, digging into his bag. “I told you there’d be no unsanitary hand-holding.”
He pulled out his solution with a flourish.
“Oh, no, Matt,” Ruth Anne said. “No way. Uh-uh.”
“Are you kidding?” Amy asked.
Like a magician fanning out a deck of cards, Matt revealed five pairs of silver handcuffs and flashed an evil grin.
“It ensures that no one breaks the circle,” Trinity said. “And that no one reaches under the table and fakes spirit activity.”
“And it looks amazing on camera,” Matt said.
Carl shrugged. “Your house, your rules,” he said, and then reached for a pair of cuffs. He placed one of the bracelets over his left wrist, and the hasp slid into the ratchet with a click-click-click-CLICK.
“You rock!” Trinity said.
“I want to see the key,” Amy insisted.
Matt patted the pocket of his hoodie. “Right here.”
“I want to test it.”
Matt retrieved the key and spun it across the tabletop. Amy inserted it into her cuffs, confirming that it really worked and she wouldn’t be handcuffed inside an Orsk for the rest of the night. Then she leaned across the table and placed the key in the center.
“It stays right there,” she insisted. “I don’t want to have one of those stupid sitcom moments where no one can find the key.”
“You got it,” Trinity said.
“Basil is going to kill us,” Amy said, but she click-click-clicked the cuffs around her left wrist and offered the other end to Ruth Anne.
“Last time I wore handcuffs was 1988,” Ruth Anne said. “Spring Break in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.”
“Story, please!” Trinity said.
“A bunch of us got in a fight with a couple of Hells Angels,” Ruth Anne said. “We lost, but I got in my licks. When we finally got out of jail the next night, they bought us a case of beer and we partied on the beach until sunup.”
“You are a remarkable woman,” Carl said.
“Did you get that on tape?” Trinity asked Matt.
Ruth Anne blushed, allowed herself one final application of Blistex, and then snapped the cuffs shut around her right wrist, securing herself to Amy. “Feels like old times,” she said.
Matt and Trinity fussed over their equipment right until the last second, checking the viewfinders to make sure their shots were lined up and running around with Trinity’s Zippo lighting all the candles. Finally, Trinity sat down and handcuffed herself to Carl; Matt flitted from one camera to the other, pressed Record on each of them, and slid into the chair next to Trinity.
“The final trick,” he said, slipping Amy’s extended handcuff over his left wrist and snapping it shut. Because they were sitting across from each other, he and Amy had to stretch their arms across the tabletop. Then Matt stood his other cuff on the table, set his wrist into it, and used his beard to snap it shut. “Voilà!”
The circle was complete. Trinity raised her wrists and rattled them.
“We are locked down!” she said. “Everybody comfy?”
“I have to pee,” Amy said.
“Shut up,” Matt said.
“You’re sure this isn’t satanic?” Ruth Anne asked.
“It’s a nondenominational séance,” Trinity said.
“Just for pretend,” Matt said to Ruth Anne. “Like a Ouija board.”
“Now,” Trinity said, speaking over him, “we sit silently until I ask the spirits to talk to us. I guess? I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. Let’s just be quiet for a minute.”
No one said anything. There was the occasional scrape of handcuffs against wood and the jingle of chains as people adjusted themselves. Amy wanted to scratch her right side, but there wasn’t enough slack for her to reach from her left to her right without pulling Ruth Anne out of her chair. Slowly the handcuff noises settled, and then they all began listening to the great silent store.
Someone’s stomach rumbled and Amy tried hard not to laugh. She looked up and saw Trinity stifling a giggle and that put her over the edge.
“Sorry,” Carl said. “That’s me.”
“Get that man a meatball,” Amy said, which made Trinity laugh even harder.
“Sh!” Matt said. “We don’t have a lot of disc space.”
They quieted down for a minute, and this time the silence lasted for almost fifteen seconds. Then an unearthly moan filled the dining room display.
“OOOoooooo … .”
Amy turned to Ruth Anne, who had her eyes closed.
“I want … to speak … to your manager … ” Ruth Anne moaned.
They all burst out laughing again—all except Trinity.
“Come on,” she said. “Basil will be back any minute. Get serious.”
“Okay, okay,” Ruth Anne said. “I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”
There were a few more giggles, moans, and strange noises, but eventually the group settled down. Trinity closed her eyes, and Ruth A
nne and Carl followed her example, but Amy glanced around the room. The candles flickered in the gloom, throwing shifting light over the Orsk wall posters. “Our home is forever,” read one. “A place for the everyone for always,” read another. Matt caught Amy’s eye and she glanced away, pointlessly embarrassed. She felt like she’d been caught with her eyes open during Thanksgiving grace.
The overpowering scent of the candles was starting to give Amy a headache. The enormity of the store stretched out around them, and the silence pressed down like pressure on the ocean floor.
“Spirits?” Trinity called.
Her voice shattered the silence, and Amy flinched.
“Are you there, spirits? Can you hear me?”
Ruth Anne stretched out her hand and patted Amy’s wrist reassuringly.
“Spirits,” Trinity repeated. “Are any of you present tonight? If you hear my voice, give us a sign.”
There was no noise. Not a sound. Amy realized she was listening as if she expected an answer. They were all listening. The cloying chemical stink of vanilla seemed to be crowding all the oxygen out of the room.
“Spirits,” Trinity continued. “We come in peace, to let you communicate with us and tell us what you want. We know that you were imprisoned here unfairly so long ago, and we want you to know that we wish to hear your stories. You were forbidden to speak then, but you’re free to speak now. Speak, O spirits. Speak.”
Trinity had never sounded so sincere, not in all the time Amy had known her. Trinity really, truly believed this stuff. And only then did it occur to Amy that this séance could in fact be dangerous. Who knows what they might be opening themselves up to? But it was too late. It had started and now it had to run its course.
There was nothing to do but listen. Amy closed her eyes and listened to the whirring of the cameras as their motorized lenses zoomed in and out, their irises adjusting automatically. Her hearing moved past them, past the shiftings and scrapings of the people around the table, past the clatter of handcuffs. She heard the bass roar of the massive HVAC system, and she listened past that. She heard the wide, unnatural emptiness of the store, then the gurgle of pipes in the walls. She heard the building creaking and popping as it settled around them. Then her hearing sailed outside the building and she imagined she could hear the crunch of Basil’s sneakers in the parking lot as he paced in circles, waiting for the police.
Horrorstor: A Novel Page 8
