Creep: Karma Inc. Case 4

by Gillian Zane

  “I was told to order Bubby’s special, that it’s the best pasta I’ll ever taste.” I smiled at the waitress. She went white as a ghost.

  “Uh, what?”

  “Bubby’s special,” I said again clearly. “I know it’s not on the menu, but I’m sure your chef will prepare it. Go ask him.”

  “Um, sure,” she nodded, scribbled something on her pad and hurried off, even though Roselle had her finger up to ask for something else.

  “What did you order?” Jerry asked, truly interested.

  “It’s a house dish, not on the menu. I was told it’s the best thing their chef makes.” I took a sip of the water in front of me and stared at the purple lipstick stain left on the glass’s rim.

  “And who told you that?” Jerry prodded.

  “The former owner’s grandmother.” I said no more. They would find out. I had read in the file that the grandmother had been dead for over twenty years, when the restaurant had first opened the chef doted on his bosses’ mother, and even came up with a special dish just for her. He called it Bubby’s Special, and the town residents loved it. When she passed, the chef took it off the menu, but would make it if someone came in and requested it. After a decade, the owner sold the restaurant to his loyal chef, and left the area. The chef changed the menu and the name of the restaurant. People forgot about Bubby and her special, but the chef, now owner, never did. In fact, he would often find stuff moved around in his kitchen and he thought it might be Bubby, since she had liked to hover in his kitchen and watch him cook, often offering advice and rearranging his shelves to be more logical.

  “That’s great,” Jerry smiled. “Guess you know the owners, small towns and all that, gotta love that small town charm.” I didn’t correct him. I knew they would find out.

  Jerry continued to make chit chat, he discussed the show, their goals for the future, Roselle, Raul, and what role I would take if they hired me. Periodically he would ask me questions, nothing profound, or intense, mostly random personal life questions.

  “This is an interview, of course, nothing final, nothing final,” he repeated as he popped a fried appetizer into his mouth. Only Jerry was eating. He was the only one who didn’t have something to lose at this table. The twins had to maintain their control, and I had to prove myself. He shrugged in apology as another morsel was popped into his mouth. “We’ll let you know soon, though. We have to narrow down our candidates. You’re the top pick of course, but—”

  “Nothing final,” I finished for him.

  “Look at that.” Jerry pointed at me with a big grin on his face. I smiled back genuinely. I liked this guy much better than the twins.

  “She’s quick. We need someone with brains, someone that gets people,” he said more to break the ice than to inflate my ego. Jerry was a good soul, he liked to make people laugh, he didn’t have the purest aura, but nothing dark swirled around him. Not like the twins.

  My smile faded as I took them in.

  “We do need brains on the team. We want to be different,” Roselle said.

  “Not like all the other ghost reality shows,” Raul continued.

  “Have you heard of Ed and Lorraine Warren?” Roselle asked me.

  I had. Their names had been in the case file, and I had searched them last night on the shop’s computer. I actually remembered them as I read their bios, they had been in movies I had watched when I was alive. They were demonologists, and they were supposedly involved in some of the most documented hauntings in the country.

  “I’ve gone to many of Lorraine’s presentations,” I said, letting the lie roll off my tongue with ease, gotta play the part. The twins looked at each other, exchanged some thought that only they could decipher.

  “Our goal, like the Warrens, is to help people. We don’t want to document random shadow figures and floating orbs,” Raul said.

  “We want to help people that are being harassed by the dead, even attacked,” Roselle finished. What they didn’t say was that they would charge these people for their help. I wonder if they gave them a menu.

  Small poltergeist, one thousand dollars. Full on demon, better mortgage your possessed house. I slid behind an emotionless mask, so I wouldn’t show my disbelief.

  “I know there are a lot of people out there that need help,” I said benignly.

  “We have already helped scores of families, and now we can supplement our costs with the show.” Roselle smiled and I tried not to flinch, her smile let slip the predator behind the careful mask.

  “And spread the word about what we can do.” Raul’s smile matched his sister’s, it was unsettling.

  “So you can help more people,” I continued for them, feeling my stomach turn. The show would open the door to countless families looking for help. Whether they were truly suffering from something paranormal, or under the grips of mental instability. The twins would swoop in, claim they could fix things, take people’s money, and not care about the destruction they left in their path.

  “Exactly.” Roselle spread her hands with a gesture indicating I was finally getting it. I bit down hard on the inside of my mouth to keep my cool. Out of all the cases I’ve had in the past, the twins were getting under my skin. I did not like these two. They gave me the creeps.

  “Which leads us to you,” Raul went on, and gave me a predatory once over.

  “We’re only investigators, so we have to call in a medium if the circumstance calls for it because we don't have the ‘sight’,” Roselle said, lifting up two delicate hands and making quotation motions with them when she said sight.

  “The network was rather astute in insisting that we have a full-time medium on the show, but you consider yourself a psychic?” Raul asked the pointed question. I guess the real interview had begun.

  “Most laymen have no way to differentiate a medium from a psychic, or even know what a psychic medium is,” I replied.

  “Is that what you consider yourself, a psychic medium?”

  “If you insist on labels, yes, I guess, for the show I can be a medium, though.”

  “What do you mean, you guess?” Roselle asked.

  “I don’t solely rely on information from the dead to read people,” I answered.

  “You’re finally going to tell the truth on a case, Cassandra.” My head jerked to the side to see a smiling Drake hovering over the table. My entire body spasmed in shock, my knee slamming into the center post of the table which made the glasses tremble together with a clang.

  The shock had my heartbeat so elevated I could feel my heart pumping the blood through my veins. Talk about giving a girl a heart attack. I gaped up at Drake, who was standing there like this was perfectly routine with a smirk on his face. And of all things, he looked translucent, like he was a ghost. I could see the neighboring tables through him.

  “What are you doing here?” I hissed.

  “You never came back, so I decided to come help out. Now push out that chair like a good little medium, so I can sit. I can’t touch anything physical in this plane of existence. And by the way, they can’t see me.” He gestured to the three other diners at my table.

  “Why are you all sparkly and see-through?” I asked.

  “Umm…remember, they don’t see me, and really you aren’t supposed to be able to see me that well either, so I have no clue why I’m sparkly. Maybe I’m part vampire,” He chuckled and shrugged.

  “Who are you talking to?” Roselle asked in a tone she probably reserved for children and the mentally handicap.

  “Are we supposed to believe she’s talking to a ghost?” Raul half-whispered.

  “This is fascinating. Is there someone there?” Jerry peered at a spot next to me. I moved the chair and Drake slipped into it.

  I turned back to the three and only stared at the twins and Jerry, trying to buy time as I tried to kick my brain in gear and come up with a suitable response.

  “Um, yes,” I nodded and three sets of confused looks were directed my way.

  “You ne
ed to give them a little more than that,” Drake said with a solemn nod.

  “You’re funny like this. I don’t think I’ve ever thrown you off your guard this much before. I should transition to the in-between more often.”

  “Cas?” Jerry peered at me in question.

  “Sorry, he wasn’t supposed to be here,” I covered.

  “Who?” Roselle asked.

  “His name is Drake—” I must be addled. I didn’t have the propensity to make up something on the fly.

  “Your spiritual guide,” Drake said with a laugh and tried to jab me with his elbow, but only managed to plunge his weird translucent body into mine. My entire body broke out with goose pimples and I shivered with the cold.

  “Which, if you think about it, is the truth. I’m dead. I guide you. This case was made for you, and by the way, you pull off Goth hottie really well, did I tell you that before? I like that dress,” he smirked and I almost smiled back. Playful Drake was a lot better than the melancholy Drake from last night. What had changed since then?

  “He’s my spiritual guide,” I stammered out.

  “How interesting,” Raul said. “So, he just shows up randomly? You can’t call him, or he’s not like a permanent fixture. Floating behind you like a creepy guardian angel?”

  “He does what he wants,” I answered with a one shoulder shrug. “I didn't expect him,” I finished lamely.

  “Do what I want, ha,” Drake blew out a heavy breath and sat back in the chair. I studied the faces of the trio across from me. They made no indication that they could hear or see him.

  “So, now that you have your guide, can you give us a demonstration?” Roselle asked with skepticism still etched across her face.

  I was about to give the same argument that I didn’t work on demand, but Drake shook his head in a strong negative motion. “You’ve got to prove yourself,” he stage whispered.

  He was right, of course, even though I wouldn’t admit it out loud, so I nodded my head and studied my three companions. Jerry was easy, and I didn’t have to impress him, so I moved my gaze to Roselle. She seemed to be my most staunch opposer, but again, maybe too easy.

  I focused on Raul. What I saw there wasn’t good. I also knew revealing his deepest secrets would turn the twins from possible business partners to instant enemies. They needed to trust me. I looked past the blackness that infected Raul’s aura like an oil slick and found something I could twist and use.

  “You tell people you and your sister became obsessed with ghosts because of a house you lived in as children. You tell people it was haunted by a demonic entity, and the only way you were able to get rid of the entity was by calling in a team of experts.”

  “You could have searched our names on the internet and found that out,” Roselle huffed.

  “It’s a lie,” I shot back.

  Both twins sat back in their chairs with matching dubious looks.

  “Go on,” Raul said in a tight-lipped word of encouragement.

  “You weren’t children. You were pre-teens, maybe twelve.” I knew they were twelve, I saw it all in their auras. It was one of their first major sins. “You found a book of witchcraft in the basement of your Uncle’s house and you took the book home. You tried to do a spell,” I paused, dragging the moment out dramatically. I closed my eyes, trying to look like I was consulting the cosmos, or my spiritual guide, or whatever other nonsense mediums would do.

  I should have been an actress.

  “You thought it was a spell to bring good luck. You wanted money, and good grades. You didn’t summon luck, you summoned something else. It terrorized your family for almost a year, until a demonologist trained by the Warrens came and banished the demon. You’ve been obsessed ever since.” I slumped in the chair, pretending that I was worn out, more theatrical nonsense for the long game.

  Someone pushed a glass of water closer to me and I took a big gulp with a nod of thanks. What I didn’t mention was they never believed they had summoned anything and never saw any indication of a demonic entity. Their parents had found the spell book, and being very religious had accused the twins of practicing devil worship. Everything that happened in the family, from car accidents to rashes, was blamed on the twins and their devil worship. They saw that their parents truly believed a demon existed and the faith they put in the demonologist when he came into the home and banished it. It made an impression on their young minds. Later, when faced with dead-end jobs, and living check to check, they remembered their parents forking out money to rid the house of a demon. A plan was set in motion. They became Roselle and Raul, paranormal investigations.

  They’ve never seen anything that they couldn’t explain away rationally in their pursuit of demons, but they, like the demonologist who came to their house when they were children, take the money, they put on a show and all is right in the world.

  “We’ve told no one that story. Not even our parents knew what spell we tried to cast.” Roselle stared at me with interest now, and a little fear. Could she tell I knew the entire story, and not just what I was saying aloud?

  “They thought the demon came because we were pre-pubescent as well as the spell casting,” Raul finished for her.

  “They do like that age,” I finished. “It might not have been the spell alone.”

  “It was the spell.” Roselle looked at her hands clasped in her lap, in contrition.

  We were interrupted by the waitress with our food, trailed by an older man in a chef’s jacket. He was carrying one dish, my dish. His eyes found mine, and squinted with some unknown emotion. I don’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t me.

  He walked around the table and set the plate in front of me, pausing for a moment to let me speak. To let me explain. But I wouldn’t. I wanted him to voice his questions, preferably in front of my audience. The final nail had to be pounded into the proverbial coffin, and not with my interference.

  “How did you know about this?” he finally asked.

  “I was told it was the best dish here,” I replied.

  “One of the older people in town told you.” I smiled and shook my head in response.

  “Then who?” he prompted.

  “She did,” I whispered. “She checks up on you, on this restaurant. She wants you to bring the bread pudding back. She said everyone loved the bread pudding.” His face went white as a sheet, but he managed to back away without looking too upset.

  “Oh-oh, okay,” he stammered. I could tell he had more to say, but nothing was coming out of his mouth. His head was doing this bobbing, nodding thing, reflecting his inner turmoil. I couldn’t tell if he was scared or excited. It didn’t matter. I had won over the trio. They were staring at me with big smiles on their faces as the chef and owner rushed back to his kitchen.

  “Glad they added that tidbit in the file,” Drake chuckled and tried to jostle me with his elbow again. It went right through me, same as before, and goose bumps erupted all over my skin. It took everything in me not to jump up from the table and start jabbering. That was just so…

  “Freaky,” Drake whispered.

  “I have to say, I’m pretty convinced you are the right person for the job.” My attention swung back to Jerry and I blinked away the panic bubbling up in my chest. “And if we don’t waste any more time, we can start filming as soon as possible, don’t you think?” He looked over at Raul and Roselle who nodded.

  “We have to arrange hotel rooms for the staff, and get the equipment in place, which should take a couple of days, plus notify the families.” He had pulled out his phone and was typing away as he told us about the itinerary.

  “The families?” I asked numbly.

  “Yes, our first location is an occupied residence. The house they live in is called The Saint James Mansion, have you heard of it?” Raul asked.

  I nodded.

  “I thought it was abandoned,” I knew it wasn’t, that it had recently been converted into condos, but I wanted them to tell me what they knew.

 
“A company bought it on auction, gutted and renovated it. They split it up into four separate residences and sold them as condos. They sunk a fortune into this place, and each family bought their unit for quite a pretty penny. One family in particular is regretting that decision, though. They are claiming they are being attacked by an unknown entity. The other families have agreed to participate in the investigation, even though none have admitted as of yet that there is something going on.” Roselle couldn’t hide her glee, even though it must be horrible to be the family being attacked.

  “If we cleanse The Saint James House, it will put our show on the map.” Raul was nodding his head, back and forth, back and forth, like it was already the truth.

  “It’s ten thousand square feet of oddly laid out rooms, and sits on over an acre of land, it even has its own cemetery, mostly children buried there.” Jerry looked excited and his eager eyes conveyed how much he wanted me to share in that excitement.

  “We’ll install cameras and equipment throughout the house, hopefully tomorrow if everything comes in. We want you in the house after we’ve collected at least twenty-four hours of footage. And we expect to have a séance with the family having the worst problems,” Raul explained.

  “We’ll do a walk-through together, with cameras on, but only to get something if it happens. If you would prefer to do more scripted…” Roselle said and I cut her off.

  “I won’t do scripted,” I interrupted.

  “I don’t mean like a script we wrote,” she laughed nervously and shot a glance at her brother to see if he had something to add, but he remained quiet for once. “I mean, like after you get your thoughts and feelings together, if you want to do it again, when you can convey yourself better.”

  My response was only a nod.

  “We’re on a set budget for the pilot. And the network contract is in the works. This means your salary will not be finalized until after the pilot has been filmed and the network gets their hands on it.” Jerry made an apologetic motion with his hands. “I can only give you five thousand for the pilot,” he finished with an exaggerated frown, like this was an insulting number. He stuck out his hand again.