“There’s that smell again,” Robert said. “Some kind of…” he stopped. “No, it’s not the same.”
The smell hit them all at the same time. It smelled smoky, like charred meat — Eliza imagined ribs that had been left on the barbeque too long.
Suddenly, a loud, blood-curdling scream erupted in the distance. It was coming from upstairs.
The acrid smell of burning meat filled her nostrils, coating her nasal passages, making her want to sneeze. She could see the others having the same reaction, holding their hands to their faces in an ineffectual attempt to stem the odor.
The scream came again, and Eliza turned back to the second story stairwell. A faint, ghostly face appeared at the point where the stairs disappeared beyond a wall. It slowly descended a stair, revealing a head with no body, floating inches off the carpet. She watched as it turned, and as it saw them, its face recoiled in surprise. Its eyes narrowed, and she felt its gaze upon her, looking at her, watching with alarm.
Granger screamed, and they turned to look at him. He fell to the ground, holding his leg. Smoke was rising from his pants over his shin.
“We need to get out of here,” Eliza said, turning to look back at the face. It watched them as she and Robert lifted Granger, asking him if he could walk.
“Something’s burning on my leg,” he said. “Hurts like a son of a bitch.”
They assisted Granger to the top of the stairs and began to descend. Eliza was aware of the face still staring at them. It reminded her of how her cat would silently stalk a bird or a snake in their yard, still and frozen, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Granger stifled a yelp as they descended each step. More smoke rose from his pant leg, and when they reached the bottom step the cloth burst into flame.
“Hold him!” Robert said to Rachel, who stepped in to keep Granger propped up. Robert removed his jacket and used it to smother the fire, extinguishing it within seconds.
“I’ll take him,” Robert said to Rachel. “Get the door!”
Rachel ran ahead of them to the large door across the entryway. Eliza couldn’t see the face from the stairs anymore, but she sensed it was still there, watching behind them as they tried to escape.
Sunlight swept into the room as Rachel opened the door, and Eliza and Robert assisted Granger over the threshold. Rachel pulled the door shut behind them.
“Down!” Granger said, wincing. “Put me down.”
They lowered Granger to the porch, where he reached for his singed pant leg and pulled it up. A large red welt appeared on the top of his shin, already blistering.
“Son of a bitch!” Granger said. “Hurts like hell!”
“Want a hospital?” Robert asked. “Or do you want me to do it?”
“You do it,” Granger replied. “It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?” Rachel said. “You’ve got to be kidding!”
“I’ve had worse,” Granger replied. “Robert’ll know what to do. Let’s get back to the car.”
They assisted Granger down the walkway and through the gate. Eliza looked back over her shoulder at the house as they left, half expecting to see the face from the stairs staring at her from one of the windows. Nothing appeared.
They had Granger to the car within minutes, and Robert assisted him into the passenger seat. As they drove back to Granger’s place, Robert peppered him with questions about what had happened.
“It felt like a breeze blowing against the skin of my leg,” Granger replied. “Which I thought was odd, since I was wearing pants. Then the breeze turned hot, and kept getting hotter.”
“It happened when it found us,” Eliza said.
“It?” Rachel asked.
“The face on the stairs,” Eliza replied. “The head that was watching us.”
“Head?” Robert asked. “I didn’t see it.”
“Me either,” Rachel replied.
“It appeared, and it saw us,” Eliza said. “It looked surprised, and then upset. That’s when Granger yelled. It wanted us out.”
“I thought you said the landing was safe, Granger!” Rachel said.
“According to Nick’s journal, I thought it was,” he replied.
“But he also said the second floor is the dangerous part,” Eliza said. “That’s where the head came from. If it hadn’t descended and seen us, we might have made it out of there unharmed.”
“Perhaps that’s what happened to Nick,” Robert offered. “He thought the landing was safe, too. Maybe he got unlucky and something from upstairs came down while he was there. Maybe the landing isn’t really safe at all.”
“God, that smell!” Rachel said. “It’s still in my nose! It smelled so rotten and…” she paused, looking for the right word.
“Thick?” Eliza offered.
“Yeah, thick!” Rachel continued. “I feel like it’s stuck to me now. I need a shower!”
“I thought it smelled like burning meat,” Eliza said.
“I suppose it’s a mistake to think what happened to your leg is a coincidence?” Robert said to his father.
“What have I always taught you?” Granger said.
“There are no coincidences,” Robert replied.
“God, I hope that wasn’t your leg we were smelling!” Rachel said.
“It couldn’t have been,” Eliza replied. “The smell was there before Granger was attacked.”
“Vestiges,” Granger said. “Just like any haunted house. Pieces of the puzzle.”
“Damn expensive pieces!” Robert replied. “This place is living up to its reputation.”
Eliza could sense the mood in the car. She was concerned about Granger’s leg too, but she knew she had to pursue what they’d learned in order to help her brother. She was sure Rachel and Granger would throw in the towel if she wasn’t there, pushing things forward. Robert was another matter; he was naturally concerned about his father. She couldn’t read him as easily as the other two, and needed to see where things stood.
“We’ll need more information on who Yessler might be, before we go back to the house,” she said.
The car was quiet. She could tell Granger and Rachel were on the edge of saying “We’re not going back!” but they were holding their tongues.
“The lawyer,” Robert said. “The one Harlan said he’d contact. That’s our next stop. We’ll collect all the information we can get from her.”
“Yes, that makes sense,” Granger replied. “I’ll give her a call when we get home.”
That left Rachel. Eliza looked up at her friend. She could see the fear and worry on her face. I’m asking a lot from her, Eliza thought. Something bad happened to her in the past, just like this, and she’s afraid it’ll happen again.
Rachel gave her a weak smile and looked down at her hands in her lap.
Chapter Eleven
“Three weeks my ass!” Granger said into the phone.
Robert looked up from the work he was doing on Granger’s leg, propped up on an ottoman. He glanced at Eliza and raised an eyebrow.
“Give me a break!” Granger continued. “Time is of the essence here! That’s something you lawyers understand, isn’t it? Isn’t that one of the things you always put into contracts? This cannot wait three weeks!” He paused, and looked at them. “Now I’m on hold.”
“You go, Dad,” Robert said, applying an ointment to his father’s leg. Granger winced in response.
“What’s this lawyer’s name?” Eliza asked.
“Helen Frost,” Granger replied. “Not that I’ve been able to speak to her yet. Maybe I need to contact Harlan again. If he wants this to…” Granger paused as someone came back on the phone. He looked combative and ready to argue, but his face softened quickly. “Oh. Alright. Yes, I can make that work. 5:30. I’ll be there.” He hung up, a surprised look on his face. “Well! I have an appointment!”
“Way of the world,” Rachel said, watching as Robert began to bandage Granger’s leg. “Wear ’em down until they give in!”
> “You all want to come along?” Granger asked. “It would save me from having to repeat everything I hear.”
“Be happy to,” Eliza offered.
“She’s in a building downtown,” Granger said, checking his watch. “Probably need to leave in an hour or so. Anyone hungry?”
“Sure,” Eliza replied, realizing they’d skipped lunch.
“Help yourself to whatever you can find in there,” Granger replied, waving an arm toward the corner where the kitchen sat.
Rachel followed her, while Robert continued working on his father’s leg.
“So,” Rachel started.
“Yes,” Eliza replied, unsure what Rachel might say.
“When I suggested you figure out how to use your gift,” Rachel said, “I had no idea it would lead to this.”
“Not your fault,” Eliza replied. “It is what it is.”
“But now it’s pretty dangerous,” Rachel said.
“It’s been dangerous for Shane from the beginning,” Eliza said, rummaging through the refrigerator.
“You’re right, of course,” Rachel replied. “I guess I was hoping there would have been a simpler solution. This one is like running a gauntlet.”
“This one?” Eliza asked, removing ingredients for a salad. “How many of these have you done?”
“Before I hung up my hat, quite a few. None this intense, though. Well, with maybe the exception of the last one.”
“You ever going to tell me what happened at that last one?” Eliza asked.
Rachel appeared on the verge of telling her, but just then Robert appeared, wanting to use the sink to wash his hands.
“Maybe another time,” Rachel replied. “It’s a long story.”
“You don’t have to do this with us,” Eliza said, enjoying saying ‘us’ with Robert next to her in the kitchen. “I’ll understand if you want to stop.”
“No, I want to help,” Rachel said. “I got you into this, the least I can do is see it through with you.”
Robert remained in the kitchen, and began slicing vegetables at Eliza’s direction. Soon they had a completed salad, and sat to eat.
●
“Thanks for taking the time,” Granger said, after introducing Robert, Rachel, and Eliza to the lawyer. She remained behind her desk, nodding to each of them in turn. She was short and impeccably dressed. Eliza found her cold.
“Mr. Alexander asked me to assist you in any way that I can,” she said. “What can I help you with?”
“Are you the Pitmon family lawyer?” Granger asked. “Or just Harlan’s?”
“I’m the lawyer for the trustees,” she replied.
“For how long?” Granger asked.
“Almost thirty years,” she replied. “My firm has had a relationship with the Pitmon family for many years before that. Now, what can I help you with?”
Eliza didn’t like her. She was all business, wanting to get on with what she determined to be of value, not what they thought might be of value. She had met these types of self-centered people before, and she never liked them.
“The Pitmon House,” Granger said. “We’d like to start with the residents. A list of names, and the years they were there.”
Eliza could see the woman’s lips press together tightly enough that they bulged a little. She doesn’t want to tell us, Eliza thought. But she’s been instructed to.
“I can have that information pulled from the files,” the woman replied. “Give me a few days.”
“We don’t have a few days,” Granger replied. “We need it now.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Well, they told me it was impossible to meet with you for three weeks, but look, here I am, sitting in your office!” Granger smiled sweetly at her.
She stared at him coldly, then picked up her phone. “Have them bring up the Pitmon estate boxes,” she said, then hung up. She looked again at Granger.
“It’s been thirty years,” she said. “You can question me, but I’d need to research to answer you correctly. If you don’t want to wait on me, I suggest we go directly to the documents I’d need to consult. Per Mr. Alexander’s instructions, you can have copies of any of them you’d like. Will that be acceptable?”
Granger turned to the others. Eliza could see a smirk on his face; he was clearly pleased, and trying not to show it to the lawyer.
“Yeah, that should work,” he said. “As long as we can get the copies before we leave.”
“That won’t be a problem,” she replied. “I’m sure it’ll only take a few minutes before the boxes are located. Why don’t I arrange a meeting room where you can go through them?”
“That would be fine,” Granger replied, trying not to smile again.
She made another quick call and hung up. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll…”
“Actually, while we’re waiting,” Eliza said, “I’d like to ask you about Reid Pitmon. Do you remember him?”
Eliza watched as the woman pretended to think. Before she could deny knowing of Reid, Eliza continued.
“I can see that you do. Tell us what you know about him, and his role in the family.”
“Reid Pitmon,” the woman said. “Son of Emery Pitmon, who was half-brother to Keith. Keith, of course, was the one who made the family wealthy and prominent. Reid stayed at Pitmon House for the last several years of his life. He was one of the final residents.”
“Do you know what he did in life?” Eliza asked. “His occupation?”
“His occupation was spending his father’s money,” the lawyer replied. “The generation after the money arrived excelled at spending it, rather than earning it. Reid Pitmon would have been out on the streets had it not been for Keith’s foresight in the creation of Pitmon House. I believe there were several youthful indiscretions; you’d have to consult the documents for information on those, I don’t recall all the details.”
“Reid’s father was named Emery?” Granger asked. “What can you tell us about him? He was a half-brother to Keith?”
“And always concerned about the family,” she said. “I think he had a deep fear that because he wasn’t a full Pitmon, he’d be cut off at some point. He overcompensated by being vociferously loyal to the family. He feared that his son’s indiscretions may become embarrassing, so he corrected his son quite successfully. I remember Keith being proud that Emery was so effective with his son, so he needn’t have worried about being cut off.”
Her phone rang, and the lawyer reached down to take the call. “Excuse me,” she said, and listened. Then she hung up. “Everything’s ready. Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll take you to the conference room.”
She led them through the corporate hallways, turning left and right until they reached a small office that held a short, six foot table. “Here we are,” she said, allowing them inside, and quickly twisting closed the blinds that covered a large window. “Take your time. I’m leaving for the day, but I’ll instruct someone to stay here with you and ensure your copies get made. They’ll also make sure you can get out of the building.”
Eliza saw a dozen banker boxes stacked on the table, waiting to be gone through. She heard the door shut as the woman closed it, sealing them inside.
“What a brush off,” Granger said, opening one of the boxes. He pulled out a handful of paper and began riffling through it. “This is going to be tedious.”
“Sounds like Reid’s father might have been a bit paranoid,” Eliza said, also opening a box.
“I suspect that accounts for Reid’s behavior,” Robert said. “Going on and on about discretion. I wonder what he did that got him into trouble.”
“One thing’s for sure,” Granger said. “Whatever his father said or did to him to shut him up, it worked.” He set a sheet of paper down on the table. “I’m making a stack of stuff to be photocopied here. If you find anything remotely interesting, place it on the stack.”
“These are all just sales documents, like mortgage papers,” Rachel said. “The
re’s no point in going through every page of these!”
“Skim them,” Granger said. “We’re really after things that are more personal, but we don’t want to miss anything.”
“So Reid’s reticence to say anything about the family comes from his father?” Eliza said, continuing to thumb through documents. “Do you think he’s still afraid of him?”
“Afraid of who, his father?” Robert asked.
“Yeah,” Eliza said. “Whatever his father said or did to him, it sure made him hesitant to say anything about the family, even as an adult. You think he might still be afraid of his father?”
“What are you thinking?” Robert asked.
“I wonder what he’d have to say if his father told him to open up and talk about things,” Eliza said. She placed a paper on Granger’s photocopy stack.
Granger stared at her, temporarily abandoning his searching through the documents. “That’s brilliant!” he said. “Absolutely brilliant!”
“What?” Robert asked. “What’s brilliant?”
“We want Reid to open up,” Granger said to his son. “He won’t do that because of his father. He needs permission. We need Emery.”
“Or someone who can impersonate Emery,” Rachel said. “That was a trick I used once in Milwaukee.”
“You’ve done it before?” Granger asked. “Successfully impersonated someone else to a ghost?”
“Yep,” she replied.
“How?” Granger asked. “How do you do it?”
“There’s a little chemical help,” she said. “Nothing elaborate. Then you have to set up your mind to feed off their impressions of who the person was. It almost always works, because it’s a reflection of exactly how they remembered the person, not you trying to invent someone.”
“And you can control what this reflection says?” Granger asked, becoming more excited by the moment.
“Sure,” Rachel said, matter-of-factly. “You can make it say anything you want.”
“Oh boy!” Granger replied. He looked as though he wanted to drop the papers in his hand and run from the room, ready to give Rachel’s suggestion a try. “That’s what we’ll do! We’ll go back, and you’ll impersonate Emery, Rachel! You’ll tell him to lighten up, and share with us what we want to know!”
The Haunting of Pitmon House Page 12
