In the Dead of Night

by Aiden James

  The night moved quickly from the moment we sat down together with Ed and Joanna outside near one of the larger fire pits, to when we participated in the annual ‘Dirty Santa Aunt Stella style’. I managed to finagle a nice Allen wrench set, and Fiona played coy enough to snag a bottle of Frog’s Leap Cabernet. Silly stuff to care much about, but it’s a blast to watch adults act like kids when it comes to claiming the fifteen to thirty-five dollar gifts.

  When it came time to leave just after eight o’clock, we gave each of our boys an extra big hug and then I waited patiently for Fiona and Stella to finish their tearful goodbye. I kept in mind the emotional context of the event, and not the fact we would be back here on Sunday. Admirably, it looked as if Ed did, too.

  Another blessing happened when he agreed to take his cruiser solo to McMinnville, following the Camaro, since Fiona had the directions to reach Marilee Dobbins’ farm that was located on the northern side of McMinnville. It meant she had to drive us there since I have a terrible sense of direction after dark when visiting new places. I guess it shouldn’t surprise anyone that Detective Silver enjoys my company as much as I enjoy his. Otherwise, he might’ve offered for me to join him in the cruiser when Fiona insisted on leading the way. But, of course he didn’t.

  For the next hour and a half, we braved a new round of snow flurries that grew heavier as we headed south. A chilly night already, I prepared myself for the deeper cold that the outlying areas surrounding Nashville are known for when a cold front settles over middle Tennessee. The kind of cold that goes right through you, like an angry spirit announcing one’s trespass into their protected lair.

  ***

  “Damn, y’all took long enough to get here!”

  Justin sounded irritated. Well, no…he actually sounded more distraught than angry. He ignored Ed’s presence and came up to Fiona and me as soon as we pulled into the graveled parking area in front of the Dobbins’ farmhouse. He continued to rant, but until we stepped out of the car I couldn’t catch the rest of what he said. The short, iced breaths rising from his staccato curses made him look like the Little Blue Engine in the Little Engine That Could for a moment.

  But, of course, I didn’t kid him about it. He was obviously furious about something.

  “It’s a long drive from Kentucky to Alabama,” I said, “and the roads turned slick as hell just past downtown. What’s up, bro?”

  “I’m telling you there’s some bad shit going on around here,” he said, pointing to the house. “These people might as well have their white robes on display. No, check that…the old man living here should pull out his Grand Dragon outfit and be done with the charade that I’m even slightly welcome here.”

  “Justin, that’s terrible!” said Fiona, locking the Camaro and setting the alarm. “Surely there’s some misunderstanding.”

  “The hell there is!” he said, staying close to us as we joined Ed in approaching the front porch.

  Kenny Chesney was on blast, and it sounded as if a loud party was going on inside the grand federal styled home. I could tell that Fiona was fascinated by the structure…and if the place was as redneck racist as my buddy said it was, she would have to get her impressions quickly.

  That was the other part of the deal tonight, which I didn’t know until we were driving here. And, it was an aspect that could very well piss off Detective Ed Silver to the point he and Justin could be anger twins. While this crazy party was going on, all of us in the ghost hunting biz—including Marie and Louise Johnston—were supposed to join Jerry and Jason Thomas on an investigation of a menacing ghost that had supposedly haunted the house since shortly after the Civil War. I guess that would at least make the place sort of qualify as a valid destination for our holiday CW tour, which is supposed to officially end tomorrow, after we finish our investigation of Fort Negley.

  “Well, if it is as hostile as you say—and I’m not saying I don’t believe you—then we’ll turn around and leave,” said Fiona, which drew a curious glance from Ed. Uh-oh…we might have some additional sore feelings if this turned into a two-hour road trip for a fifteen minute stop. Granted that sort of thing would normally piss me off, too. “We’ll just cross it from our list and take our chances with Nick and Lisa if Jerry and Jason get their nose out of joint over this. You both know that I won’t tolerate prejudice of any kind.”

  Truer words I had not heard that night. Fiona has no patience for bigots, whether the bigotry is sexist, political, or racist. I braced myself for the myriad directions the next few minutes might take us. In the meantime, I noted the feel of the place as we stepped up to the front door. There was a definite feeling of negativity, or oppressive sadness here…and yet the joyful celebration inside seemed determined to defy it.

  “Hey, Fiona,” said Jackie, as we stepped through the door. She and Michelle stood with Jerry and Jason, and all four wore warm smiles. “Justin, are you okay?”

  It was as if she had no idea what had set him off so badly…this was flat out weird. I looked around to get my bearings in the house. A nice blend overall of modern and antique furnishings, although the floors creaked noticeably and I could see several uneven areas in the room we stood in. Once a parlor, it had long ago been converted to a living room with a dark marble fireplace ahead of us.

  That’s when I saw what Justin was talking about. Hell, how could anyone miss it? A large white marble bust of Nathan Bedford Forrest sat upon the mantel, and behind it was an enormous painting of the infamous Confederate general. Nothing harmful about that in itself, but Forest’s horse stood upon what appeared to be an African American young man, and it sure as hell looked as if a white robe was folded in front of the general as it rested against the horn of his saddle. The general looked out from the portrait with a smug smile on his face.

  Yes, I wanted to leave immediately.

  I was about to offer my opinion when Tom approached me, smiling nervously.

  “Hi Jimmy…hey, Fiona. Before we get started, did you all want some Jack n’ Coke, or maybe a beer?”

  I could tell he had already had a few, either beers, JC’s, or both. I hoped that’s why he seemed unaffected by this surreal environment. Behind him in another room connected to this one were the members of the other two paranormal research groups. I recognized them all as they pranced past the doorway like Delphi priestesses ready to offer a sacrifice to Dionysus…or maybe to the crazy Confederate general whose likeness seemed to be everywhere.

  A taller blonde woman that bore the Thomas’ brothers’ likeness emerged from the room when she noticed our presence. She turned down the stereo that sat on a small parlor table next to the doorway, and then nodded to a very old man sitting in an equally ancient high back wing chair across the room. The old man, unfortunately, reminded me of the old codger in the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

  He snarled something meanly at her, and for some reason a sudden chill hit me, sending a wave of involuntary shivers through my arms and chest.

  “See what I mean? This is really jacked up,” whispered Justin, who hung close to my right side, while Fiona clung to my left arm.

  The old man suddenly jerked his head toward us, and he grimaced angrily as he tried to stand. When he seemed to realize he’d be unsuccessful in leaving his chair, he sat back down, pointing a shaky finger at Justin.

  “Ya ain’t welcome here, boy…. Ya hear me? Get the hell out of my house!”

  Okay, definitely time to go—Ed’s and anyone else’s feelings be damned. But before I could turn us around for a quick exit, Jason moved to block my path.

  “Damn it, Grandpa, you need to shut the hell up!” shouted Jerry angrily, moving over to where the old man soon cowered from his apparent grandson’s approach. “Like I told you before, this is our friend Justin, and he is our guest! He is just as welcome—if not more—than you are!!”

  The dancing and laughter immediately stopped, and the old man looked meekly up at Jerry. But before he brought his crooked, shaking finger to face Jerry, the old man
’s eyes suddenly closed and he slumped forward. Still seething, Jerry went over to the stereo and turned it off. By the time he turned his attention back to his grandfather, the old man was snoring lightly.

  If only I could get my cranky four–year-old to fall asleep like that.

  “So, Grandpa’s asleep?” Jason asked from behind us. “Justin…man, we are truly sorry about this. It’s why all of us moved out except for Marilee, and she and her husband Paul wish to God they hadn’t agreed to take over ownership of the place since Grandpa comes with the property.”

  Wow…this gets better by the minute.

  “Why don’t we skip the investigation and head out back where Paul and Tony are working on the bonfire?” suggested Jerry.

  “I’m Marilee, by the way,” said the lady who looked like a Thomas sibling, as she approached us with her hand extended, which we both politely shook. She offered a warm smile to my wife and me that turned compassionate as she regarded Justin, who drew close enough for me to smell his Drakkar cologne. “I’m very, very sorry he’s bein’ such an ass tonight.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” said Fiona, and it was echoed by me. Justin nodded what I thought was an acceptance of Marilee’s apology.

  But what else could any of us say? Most times when someone apologizes with that kind of agonized delivery it demands some sort of concession, like ‘hey, that’s okay’. Well, standing in a living room like this one sure as hell wouldn’t foster such a response.

  “Where’s Ricky?” I asked Tom, looking for a way to move this conversation away from the crazy old man’s presence and the thickening awkwardness around us. All of us who had made the trip from Nashville began to fidget. Either we all felt uncomfortable from the ancient patriarch’s behavior, or there was something far worse than racial hatred lurking in the old farmhouse. “He made it tonight, didn’t he?”

  “He rode here with Tony and me,” said Tom. The blissful look from a short time earlier had nearly faded completely. “He was going to get our gear right before you got here…. I’ll go check on him.”

  Meanwhile, I followed Ed’s casual gaze that surveyed the rest of the living room. The garishness of the painting had distracted me to where I hadn’t noticed the pair of cavalry-sized rebel flags upon the walls to the right and left of the fireplace. Granted, these didn’t give me an immediate weird vibe, since Justin has one just like them in his bedroom, as I mentioned earlier. But they provided something else to focus on while I listened to the still voice that’s within all of us…and I didn’t like what it told me. However, I was at peace with the resolution it presented to my soul.

  “There is some serious shit going on here, guys and gals,” I said, and I could feel Fiona tense next to me. I ignored the look of offense that suddenly appeared on Marilee’s face, which told me her apology from a moment ago wasn’t as sincere as it had appeared to be. “I’d like to come back here some other time, y’all. And, even though the investigation was an afterthought, I think it might be best if we adjourn tonight’s get-together. Especially, since most of us need to be in Nashville for the final field taping tomorrow afternoon at one o’clock. That’s the right time, isn’t it Jackie? Tom?... Darlin’?”

  I think they were all too stunned by my suggestion, but I could feel Fiona relaxing next to me. She was just as ready as me to blow this place and its layers of negativity. Like me, she surely understood we would only be enduring the bonfire—one that was already less than optimal since the temperature was in the frigging teens outside. That alone made it worse than last night’s outdoor adventure.

  There was nothing to be gained by staying in this hostile environment. Whatever camaraderie could be had with the PPP twins and our cohorts form Louise and Marie’s groups would be better served by all of us reconvening at Fort Negley the next afternoon. Fully rested, our energy that was being siphoned by some undetermined cancerous source should be restored by then.

  It sounded like a win-win to me.

  “I think we should stick around,” said Jackie, lowering her glass of Jack and Coke just long enough to glare at me. “I think it would be rude to just up and leave.”

  “What’s the hurry?” added Tom, who progressively seemed less drunk and more worried. “Tomorrow’s investigation is still fifteen hours away from now.”

  It seemed obvious to me who had sold their souls to the devil. You could’ve put Lisa’s bottom-line smugness on Jackie’s face and did the same for Nick’s over Tom’s. If we didn’t have a cherished TV program hanging in the balance, I wondered what their reaction would be then? What had happened thus far that night couldn’t be laid at the feet of Jerry or Jason personally, but the old man and the House of Horrors were definitely part of the twin’s heritage.

  Meanwhile, I could feel Justin’s tenseness had not eased, and even Fiona seemed as if she were getting upset, as her grip on my bicep suddenly increased to where I could feel the tips of her fingernails digging into the leather of my trench coat—a double-breasted Christian Dior Christmas present from just last year. If she bore similar feelings to Jackie and Tom, I’d have to relent…at least until my coat was safe from potential punctures.

  “Jimmy’s right,” she said, and I heard several hushes from our pagan dancers that had recently emerged from the adjoining room. “I’m really sorry…but we should go.”

  I can’t even express how proud I was of her right then, since in effect, she had drawn the line between the Dobbins’ clan and any future invitations for us to come back to this place. That confirmed something else for me, too. Whatever created the negative aura engulfing the property was something on a scale worse than I originally imagined. Perhaps even worse than the angry Native American spirits we encountered in Adams the night before.

  “Well, I’m really sorry, Fiona, Jimmy, and Justin,” said Jerry. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  He came over to us, and it looked as if he might cry. The anger was still there, and to be honest I was starting to feel a tad guilty about letting a crazed old man run us off…until I looked back up at General Forest’s pompous gaze above the fireplace and the terrified share cropper pinned beneath the horse’s hoof.

  “Please forgive us bringing you into this shit, Justin,” he said, and extended his hand for Justin to shake. I was ambivalent, but felt better once Justin accepted his handshake.

  “It’s all right, man,” said Justin, smiling weakly. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Surprisingly, Detective Silver needed no coaxing and seemed just as happy as me to leave. Granted, he hadn’t interacted at all with anyone, but maybe the skills the man has honed over the years told him that it would be better to keep his distance. He won’t be invited back either, I’m sure.

  Not wanting to press my luck, since I could feel more than a handful of angry stares upon my back as we prepared to exit the farmhouse, I nodded my ‘okay’ for Fiona to ride with Mr. Ed back to Nashville, and for Justin to ride with me. It was better this way, since our resident detective has never taken a liking of any kind to Justin, and that feeling is verifiably mutual. Fiona would accompany me home from Justin’s place.

  “Hey, Jimmy!...What in the hell happened back in there?” said Tony, after he ran over to where we were parked. He was out of breath by the time Justin and I reached the Camaro. I signaled for Ed and Fiona to go on ahead after Ed tapped his horn, knowing my wife knew how to get to Justin’s place better than I did. “Everybody’s freaking out in there, saying shit like you were a supreme asshole.”

  “I was,” I said, shooting him the sly smile he loathes the most from me as I slid into the driver’s seat. “And, now we’re going home.”

  “Can you fit one more in there?” asked Ricky, who had just caught up with Tony. The big guy must’ve given Tony a significant head start. “I’m ready to blow this place, too.”

  “I thought we were about to start the investigation?”

  Now Tony’s ire was directed at Ricky instead. A lesser version of me would’
ve seen this as the perfect moment to escape. That’s not how I roll these days…but I at least started up the engine.

  “This place is frigging insane, man, and whatever is in that barn back there…well, it gives me the frigging willies!”

  Just then a stiff breeze blew across the parking area, aiding the wind chill that was already subzero. The resident demon had just added a hearty amen, perhaps?

  “Come on, man…I’ll hop in back since there ain’t a lot of leg room behind the front seats,” said Justin. He released his seatbelt.

  “So, you’re going to leave me here alone…all of you assholes?”

  “Yep!”

  Tony shook his head upon hearing our unanimous decision, but stopped Ricky from moving around to the passenger side of my car.

  “All right, man…we’ll leave, too,” he said, still shaking his head. “You realize, Jimmy, that you’ve probably blown a great opportunity to find out more about the bad ass spirit that ‘rules the roost’ as Jerry said earlier tonight. Because of you, we’ll likely never get this close to it again.”

  “One can only hope,” I said, and then turned my attention to Ricky. “Make sure he leaves, will ya? I suggest you start packing right away to ensure Tony here doesn’t force you to deal with this mess any longer than necessary.”

  Tough love. At least that’s the way I saw it. But as it turned out, those were the last words spoken between Tony, Ricky and me for the next two days.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “It does seem like you’ve become as popular as Sarah Palin at a gay pride rally.”

  Saturday afternoon. What a frigging difference a week can make. At this time last weekend, we were on our way to Stones River on a cold but sunny day.