by Terri Grimes
“Oh please, Mister Queen of the One Night Stands. Don’t even go there. I’ve seen your inner whore.”
He uttered a feminine titter as he held one hand high in the air. “Guilty as charged.”
I tried to keep the smile from forming, but it was a losing battle. Before I could stop myself, he and I were giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.
When our giggles abated, I tugged on his arm. “You’ve got to do me a solid, pal. Whatever you do, don’t let on that you know anything about what happened between Sam Valentine and me last night. Okay?”
“All right, I guess I could keep that one little secret. I don’t see how you’re going to pull this one off though. It’s not like he doesn’t know he slept with you.”
I sighed. “I’m just going to play it off like it never happened and if Sam Valentine has a shred of decency he will do the gentlemanly thing and not bring it up. We can just sweep the whole slutty mess under the rug.”
“Okay,” Timmy said with trepidation. “It’d have to be a pretty big rug though.”
“I’m serious, Timmy. Please don’t say anything.”
He sighed. “All right. But you owe me.”
“South Bend Chocolate Company’s deluxe assortment?”
He perked up. “With or without nuts?”
“One pound with and one pound without.”
Timmy shook my hand, pumping it far longer than necessary. “You’ve got a deal, my friend. My lips are sealed.”
I gave him an impromptu hug. “You rock, dude. I owe you one.”
“No, you owe me two. Two pounds of chocolate, that is. And don’t forget it!”
I laughed. “I won’t forget.”
Ah, the power of chocolate.
~ * ~
“Timmy has offered to help with tonight’s investigation in any way he can,” I said as we walked back into the living room.
“Sounds great,” Sam boomed, slapping Timmy on the back in the universal show of male bonding. “I’m sure we can find something for you to do.”
“Um, great,” Timmy said, not sounding thrilled about the prospect at all.
“It’s a stroke of good fortune that you turned up here tonight, to be honest. Amanda, my assistant, wasn’t able to make it.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as Sam shared that tidbit of info. I mean, we were talking about the same case manager that refused to come into my house for fear of seeing a ghost. I couldn’t help myself; I had to ask.
“What is it that Amanda does, exactly?”
“She maintains command central. Often we set up base in the back of my van, other times in an area of the client’s home or business, wherever we happen to be. It all depends on the size of the investigation and the types of equipment we use.”
“How so?” Timmy asked.
Sam turned to address him. “For instance, tomorrow night when we do the real investigation, I’ll be using DVRs and will need Amanda to sit in the back of the van watching the monitors. Since tonight is a preliminary fact-finding mission, I need someone to sit in the kitchen and jot down certain readings that I give over the walkie-talkie.”
Timmy brightened. “I can do that.”
Sam chuckled. “It’s a plan then.” He turned to me. “I was going to have you record my readings, but now that Timmy has offered, that frees you up to walk through the house with me, showing me the hot spots.”
“Um, Sam?”
“Yes, Timmy?”
“What’s a DVR?”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from snickering. If misery loves company, then so does stupidity and I was grateful I wasn’t the only one that didn’t have a clue what Sam talked about half the time.
“Sorry, I should have explained more clearly. My bad,” Sam apologized.
“Not a problem,” Timmy said cheerfully.
I guess I was the only one that got the “are you really that stupid” look when asking a question. I fought the urge to tell them what I thought of their boy club.
“A DVR stands for Digital Video Recorder,” Sam explained with patience. “Don’t worry, I’ll go over the equipment with you before we begin our investigation tomorrow night. Tonight, I’ll just need you to sit in the kitchen jotting down the readings I give to you over the walkie-talkie. It’s quite simple. A DVR is very much the same piece of equipment you might use to record a movie from your television, burning it onto a DVD.” He shrugged. “Just think of the recorders we use in our line of work like a home recorder on steroids.”
“That’s so cool,” Timmy gushed. “I can’t wait to see the equipment.”
Oh. Great. Boys and their toys. All of a sudden, I wasn’t so pleased Timmy had shown up on my doorstep tonight. Why couldn’t I be the one to sit in the kitchen jotting down readings? After all, I lived in this house and I knew what was waiting for us on the second floor. Let someone experience it for a change. I’d put in my time. I kept my mouth shut though. For what reason I wasn’t sure.
Several minutes later, with Timmy safely ensconced in the brightly lit kitchen, Sam and I made our way up the darkened staircase. My skin tingled as we approached the landing. The air around me crackled as if it were electrically charged. Every hair on my body stood up on end. And yes, I mean every hair.
Standing on the landing, I turned to Sam. “I’m not so sure about this.”
He clasped my hand. “Gertie, if I didn’t think you could handle the investigation, I wouldn’t have asked you to assist me tonight.”
“Yeah, but…”
He released my hand, putting a finger to my lips to shush me. “It’s okay to be nervous. I still get nervous on investigations. It’s only natural. Fear of the unknown is a powerful thing.”
He stared into my eyes, his look so soft and gentle, my anxiety eased. I took a deep breath. I could do this.
“Okay,” I said after another deep breath. “Now what?”
“The first thing we are going to want to do is just relax and see if anyone wants to make contact.”
I motioned to the headset he fitted me with before we came upstairs. “How does this work again?” I asked.
Sam leaned close, clicking a small button on the left side of the earpiece.
“Since you were so anxious to hear what the entity was saying as it said it, with that switch turned on, you’ll be able to hear what is being recorded on the DVR during the EVP session in real time.”
“As opposed to fake time?” Unsuccessful, I attempted to suppress a nervous giggle.
He raised one sexy dark brown eyebrow.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’m becoming accustomed to it,” he said, waving a hand at me dismissively.
I wasn’t quite sure how to take that. I let it slide for now. “And, EVP? That’s where they speak to us, but we can’t hear it, right? I get the theory behind it, but not the specifics of how it’s possible for us to record something we don’t actually hear.”
“Electronic equipment records sound at a much higher frequency than what the human ear can hear. But when we play it back, we can hear it since recording devices give an output that is on a frequency and pitch that the human ear is attuned with.”
”Sounds like you’re describing a dog whistle for ghosts, but instead of the recorder picking up the sound of the whistle, it picks up voices.”
“That’s it exactly. Great way to think outside of the box, Sugarbaker.”
“Momma didn’t raise no fool,” I quipped.
He held the small tape—err, voice—recorder away from his body, projecting his voice throughout the hallway. “EVP session with Sam and Gertie in the upstairs hallway.”
By the thin silver stream of light coming from through the window at the end of the hall, I could see Sam look at me as if he were waiting for me to interrupt. He seemed perplexed when I didn’t.
“Is anyone here with us tonight? Give us a sign of your presence.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “Are
you confused about what we are doing here?” Again he paused. “Give us a sign. Move something, make a noise, you can even touch one of us.”
“Whoa,” I gasped. “Speak for yourself, cowboy. I don’t want anyone or thing touching me. Been there, done that and don’t like it.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Hmph. Obviously.”
He continued, “What is your purpose here?”
Suddenly I heard a light tapping from nearby. This time I knew it wasn’t someone knocking at the door. That’s what scared me. It took all the moxie I could summon not to grab Sam’s arm and cling to him.
“Did you hear that? What the hell was that?”
“Yes, I heard it too,” he said, putting his finger to his lips in a shushing motion.
“If you are attempting to communicate with us, you need to try harder,” Sam said in a concise tone.
My courage now gone, I grabbed his arm, the one that wasn’t holding the voice recorder. Not that holding his arm would protect me, but it made me feel better as I hung on to it for dear life.
“What is your name?” Sam gave the entity ample time to respond before turning to me. “Ask the entity a question.”
“What do I ask?”
“Anything that comes to mind. Just try to engage the spirit in conversation.”
“I don’t know, Sam. I just don’t think I can.”
“Gertie, in the short twenty-four hours that I’ve known you, you’ve not shut up for five minutes. Of course you can do it.”
I started to threaten him with an air karate chop, until I realized he was right. I took a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh.
“Do you know you’re dead?” I looked at Sam. He nodded encouragement. I spoke again. “Do you enjoy attacking women? Is that how you get your kicks, you little dicked piece of shit?”
“Whoa. We try not to provoke, Gertie.”
“Sorry,” I hissed in a hushed tone. “You told me to say anything that came to mind.”
He held his finger to his lips again as he addressed the spirit. “Why are you in this place? Did you live here at one time?”
Silence met all of our questions. Not a tap not a sound, just—no pun intended—dead silence.
Sam spoke again. “You must give us a sign of your presence. We command you to make yourself known. Make a noise. Show yourself.”
Without warning, the air grew thick and heavy, making it difficult to breathe. The meter I held went crazy, the needle jumping from 1.3 all the way up to 9.5. Frantic, I nudged Sam, pointing to the EMF meter. I remembered him saying something earlier about the meter showing possible signs of spirits being nearby when it would jump to a much higher number, similar to what it was doing now. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like this one little bit.
Sam pointed the tiny beam of his mini flashlight onto the face of the meter. He pulled the walkie-talkie out of his back pocket, speaking into it in a quiet, yet urgent tone. “We’re getting a reading of 9.5 on the EMF, Timmy. Our base reading was 1.3 milligauss up here, but now it’s jumping all over the place. Make sure you log the reading, okay?”
“Copy that, Sam. Will do.” Timmy’s voice squawked over the static of the walkie-talkie.
As Sam slid the instrument into his back pocket, I heard a faint sound which seemed to be emanating from the end of the hallway, near the attic door. I grabbed his shirt sleeve. “Is that your stomach growling?”
“No, I thought it was yours.”
“But, you heard it, right?”
“Almost like a small animal growling? Hell yeah, I heard it.”
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew that Sam and I weren’t alone. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be in the brightly lit kitchen with Timmy, sipping a hot cup of tea, forgetting all about this paranormal business. In fact, I was just about to tell Sam I was done for the night and could take no more when he grabbed my arm and bent his head to mine, speaking softly in my ear.
“Gertie, do you hear a light knocking sound, almost like footsteps?”
Oh. Shit. I did.
“Yes. What is it?”
“Everything is okay, just stay close to me,” Sam cautioned.
He didn’t have to ask me twice. I plastered myself so close to him that we were practically wearing the same jeans.
We made our way down the hallway toward the guest room at the end of the hall, where the footsteps seemed to be emanating. Almost the very spot where I thought the growling sound had come from. As we stepped through the open doorway of the guest room, I could have sworn I saw the faintest movement of a shadow by the closet.
“We know you are here with us.” Sam’s voice pierced the thick silence of the not so empty room. “We mean you no harm. We want to communicate with you. If you talk into this silver box, we will be able to hear you. Speak towards the small red light.”
I wrapped my arms around myself as a shiver ran through my body from the cold air. Even though Indiana weather was unpredictable at best, there was no reason I should be able to see my breath in this room on an April evening, yet, I did.
“Communicate with us. We are here to help you. Give us a sign, make a noise,” Sam urged again.
In the shadowy darkness I wasn’t sure, but I thought I saw the closet door move, ever so slightly. “Did you touch that closet door?”
“No.”
“But it’s moving. Are you sure you didn’t bump into it?”
“Shhh,” Sam said to me, shooting me a warning look, barely visible by the light of the moon coming in through the bedroom window. “Could you please come forward and communicate with us? Is that you moving the closet door? If so, thank you, but we need a clearer sign. Step forward and give us a sign of your presence.”
I jumped as the closet door slammed shut. My heart pounded so hard I thought I would faint. But then, in an instant, the air became lighter, making it easier to breathe. It was apparent that whatever had been there was now gone just as rapidly as it had arrived. In the pitch-black darkness, we were seeing scary things in every corner. I hoped when the sun came out we would realize the scary things were really nothing at all.
“What the hell was that?” I was almost giddy with relief at the heaviness in the air being gone.
“That, as you put it, was your house guest making himself known.”
My limbs shook like a bowl of jello. “This is freaking me out. I’m sorry, but I need a break, Sam.”
In the gray, I saw him nod. “I understand. We caught some great stuff for a preliminary walk-through. Let’s wrap this up, get the lights back on and call it a night. We’ll save the rest of the upstairs for the real investigation tomorrow night.”
“You got it, boss.”
I ran across the room to the light switch, flicking it on with relief.
Nine
When we made our way back to the well-lit kitchen, I wasn’t surprised to see Timmy playing a round of computer solitaire on the very laptop he was supposed to be recording Sam’s data on. I nodded towards the laptop and said with my voice dripping with sarcasm, “I hope we aren’t keeping you from anything.”
Oblivious to my tone, Timmy yawned, pushed his chair back from the table and extended his legs and arms for a full body stretch. “Nah, it’s all good. My adoring public can wait a little longer.”
“Are you coming back tomorrow night to help?” I asked.
Sam spoke before Timmy had a chance to answer. “I was thinking we could meet for dinner tomorrow. Maybe regroup and set up a game plan.”
“Sounds good to me.” I looked at Timmy.
“Count me in as long as it’s Perfetto’s.”
“Perfetto’s it is then,” I agreed.
Timmy looked at his watch. “I should head out of here, if you’re done with me, that is. I’ve got a hot date.”
We both turned toward Sam.
“Sure, we’re done for the night. And Timmy thanks for covering for Amanda. I appreciate it.
”
“Hey man, no problem. It was my pleasure.”
I glanced down at the half-played game of solitaire still on the laptop’s wide screen. Great. I was upstairs laying my life on the line in the dark with a ghost and there he sat playing on the computer. Yeah, I’m sure it was his pleasure. I fought the urge to call him out on it.
“Who do you have the hot date with, Timmy?” I asked.
He shrugged into his jacket. “I’m not sure, I haven’t met him yet. But, the night is young and the bars are full, so we shall see.” Then, with a wide grin and a wave of the hand, he was gone just as quickly as he’d arrived.
I turned to Sam. “Is there anything more powerful than a gay man’s confidence?”
“It would seem not.”
I crossed the kitchen to pull two glasses out of the cupboard. “Iced tea okay or would you prefer something stronger?”
“If it’s the same sweet tea you served me earlier, count me in.”
That’s what I liked, a man who knew how to give a compliment.
“One super duper Gertie-licious sweet tea coming up.” I opened the freezer door, pulling out the white rectangular container overflowing with ice.
Sam leaned his toned torso against the kitchen counter, watching me as I dropped ice cubes into the glasses.
“Or maybe you’d rather have a cup of coffee? It’s no trouble to make it,” I offered.
“No thanks, iced tea will be more than fine.”
“Okay, if you’re certain.”
“Well,” he said. “I have a pretty good idea of what we’re up against here.”
“Yeah? What do you think it is?” I opened the fridge door, bending low to reach the pitcher of iced tea on the bottom shelf.
“Sounds like a classic case of an intelligent haunting with a dose of poltergeist activity,” he said confidently, taking the pitcher of tea from me and pouring it into both glasses.
“English, please. I don’t understand Greek.”
He gave me what seemed to be a condescending glance before he picked up his iced tea and took a drink. He stopped for a moment before he spoke, clinking the ice in his glass. “Although this isn’t absolute, there are generally two types of spirits you may encounter. Human or non-human.”
