The Case of the Abandoned Warehouse (Mystery House #2

by Eva Pohler

  Ellen squinted but could see nothing on Ernest’s back.

  “You ladies stay back,” Brenda warned. “There’s something evil in here. We need to expunge it.”

  Brenda pulled something out of the front pocket of her blue jeans and handed it to Philip. “Use the holy water.”

  Philip sprinkled some of the water from the plastic bottle into the closet and around the room, especially over the bed. As he did so, he said, “We rebuke you in the name of Jesus Christ. Be gone, evil demon!”

  Then he turned off the bedroom light and returned to the bed to his laptop.

  “Anything?” Brenda asked him.

  “No, but I can definitely feel a difference. Can you?” he asked her.

  “It’s much less oppressive, that’s for sure,” Brenda agreed. She turned on her black light, bringing the pale purple back into the room.

  “What do you think, Ernest?” Philip asked. “Do you think it’s gone?”

  “Man, what a change. I feel like I could run around the block ten times. I would say that’s a success! I can’t wait to look over the video and see if Brenda caught any anomalies.”

  “I’m sure I did,” Brenda said. “That presence was overwhelming. It must have left behind something for us.”

  When it was all over and Ellen and her friends were climbing back into Sue’s SUV, Ellen felt disappointed. “Either I don’t have the gift like I thought, or those people were delusional.”

  “I think it’s the latter,” Sue said. “And we need to call Child Protective Services for that poor boy.”

  “I agree about CPS,” Tanya said.

  “Do you think we’re imagining things, Tanya?” Ellen asked.

  “No, way. Don’t compare us to them.”

  “But how do we know we’re any different?” Ellen said, staring at her ghost hunting kit with disdain. “What if everything we’ve experienced has all been a shared delusion?”

  Chapter Twelve: Back to Tulsa

  A week after Ellen had returned to San Antonio from Tulsa, she received an email from Carrie French, in reply to Ellen’s query about a paranormal investigation at the abandoned building next to Cain’s Ballroom. Carrie wrote:

  Hi Ellen,

  I am very interested in investigating the old circus grounds. I will first have to see if I can get permission from the city. It would be easier to get permission if you put in an offer to buy the property. Although this would require some earnest money, you would still have time to pull out of the sale until three days after closing. Please let me know if you want to go this route. Otherwise, it may take months to get permission.

  If you do decide to put in an offer, we should schedule the investigation around the next new moon, which is Sunday, October 30th. Our readings tend to be more reliable as we move closer to the new moon, as an abundance of moonlight can create false images easily mistaken as orbs or spiritual manifestations not truly present.

  This would also give me time to conduct research on the property. I know it was once a circus, but I’d like to find out its complete history. I will also have a geological survey done on the grounds to see if there are any anomalies and contact the EPA to see if any known neurotoxins or other contaminants have ever been reported in the area. And I can make note of the proximity of power lines, etc., to the building. I like to create a map on graph paper of all the known variables we can find before we begin the investigation on the property.

  In addition to this research, I will need to interview you and your friends separately about what you experienced while you were in the building that provoked you to want an investigation. Please do not discuss your experiences with each other (it’s okay if you already have, but try not to any further from here on out). But please do write down—each of you separately—as much as you can recall so that when I interview you, you can use those notes to refresh your memories.

  Please let me know as soon as possible if you decide to move forward with an offer on the property. If you decide not to do so, I’ll do my best to pull whatever strings I have in this city.

  Yours Truly,

  Carrie French

  Ellen forwarded the email to Sue and Tanya and then called Sue. When she didn’t answer, she called Tanya and told her to read the email.

  “What do you think?” Ellen asked her. “Should we put in an offer?”

  “I suppose we could offer five thousand, like the realtor suggested,” Tanya said. “Between the three of us, that’s not a lot of money, anyway.”

  Ellen’s heart began to pump faster. She’d been feeling down over the past week, especially after the experience they’d had with the San Antonio Ghost Busters. She’d even been questioning all that had happened at the Gold House, wondering if there was ever real proof that Marcia’s ghost had haunted it.

  Don’t ignore us.

  Couldn’t that have been the wind? she’d thought. Or that old Native American woman playing games with them?

  And even though she’d continue to have the suffocating nightmares of being engulfed by flames, she’d attributed that to the book she’d been reading about the riot and her preoccupation with the devastation that occurred in its wake.

  But this email sparked a new feeling in Ellen: a renewed hope. Carrie’s interest and the thorough preparation she was willing to undergo made Ellen consider that maybe she hadn’t imagined all that had happened in Tulsa. The butterflies hatching all at once after Tanya had asked for a sign, Eduardo Mankiller identifying Vivian by name, and the sudden extinguishing of the fire after Sue called out to the spirits for help—that couldn’t have been without significance.

  Sue phoned while Ellen was still talking to Tanya, so she put Tanya on hold to answer the call.

  “I just read your email,” Sue said. “Let’s do it!”

  Paul wasn’t thrilled to learn that Ellen would be returning to Tulsa at the end of the month, so she did her best over the next few weeks to cook meals he loved, to keep the house in pristine condition, and to watch some of his shows with him in the den. She didn’t hate Storage Wars or Shark Tank, but she didn’t love them either. She’d rather be in her comfy chair in the front room reading a book or out in her backyard studio painting. She spent this time with him so he would be less resistant about her trip.

  One night, after Storage Wars, Paul got up, said he was hitting the sack, and asked if she was going to stay up late.

  It was the most direct he ever got at asking for intimacy. It was awkward for Ellen, since she usually went straight to her son’s old room.

  “I think I’ll hit the sack, too,” she said, turning off the TV.

  She followed him into their master bedroom, where she changed into her nightgown, since she’d never completely moved out of the room. The whole time she wondered how to transition into the bed with him. Should she just be direct?

  “Want to exchange backrubs?” she finally asked.

  “Sounds good to me,” he said.

  They were talking in code. Why should two people who’d been married for over thirty years need to take such measures to be with one another?

  She climbed into her old spot—her side of the bed, realizing she’d missed the plush mattress top that her son’s bed lacked. She pulled the thick comforter over her and scooted against her husband’s side. The warmth of his body radiated onto her, calming her. He lay on his back, skipping the pretense of a back rub, so she stroked his chest and sighed.

  It felt good to be in his arms. Why was it so difficult for her to get there? And why was it such a rare event?

  She recalled what Eduardo Mankiller had said while reading her cards: she was the thing getting in the way of her relationship. It was her fault.

  “This feels nice,” Paul said.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “I wish you weren’t leaving next weekend,” he said.

  She was at first moved, until he added, “It’s a lot of expense, traveling back and forth. And I would have liked to see the building before you went
and bought it.”

  “I didn’t buy it yet. We don’t close until the second week of November.”

  “You know what I mean. And you said yourself that it’s believed to have asbestos. It’s going to be nothing but a money pit.”

  What possessed him to bring this all up now, while on the brink of intimacy, was beyond Ellen’s comprehension. The romantic mood she’d been in when she’d first crawled in beside him vanished.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said. “I’m not dipping into our savings, though, I promise. I’m using interest I’ve made on the gold money.”

  “Isn’t that ours, too? Or do you consider that money your own to do with as you please?”

  Ellen sat up. “You didn’t seem this strongly against the idea when I first told you about it.”

  “What was the point? You and your friends had already made the decision.”

  “Then why bring it up now?”

  “So maybe next time, you’ll include me in these kinds of decisions, so you know I’m not happy with how you went about this.”

  “Okay. Got it. I’m truly sorry I didn’t discuss this with you, but I was planning to before making the decision to buy. We just wanted to get an offer in so we could conduct the research. We still haven’t decided whether we’re going to move forward.” She was beginning to feel angry that he’d brought this up just when she thought they were going to be together. She’d forgotten how much she’d missed being close to him. “And, you know what? It’s exactly $1670. That’s almost as much as you spend on hunting and fishing trips in a year, wouldn’t you say?”

  “What about the asbestos removal? A hundred grand?”

  She climbed from the bed.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “To bed. Good night.”

  Chapter Thirteen: A Paranormal Investigation

  The train ride to Oklahoma City seemed longer to Ellen the second time, but she kept herself busy reading an ebook about paranormal investigations. She was rewarded in Oklahoma City, where the stars aligned, and Nolan was free to meet them for dinner. Seeing her son renewed her strength and energy, giving her the boost she needed to face the ghosts in Tulsa.

  Sue offered to drive the rental car from Oklahoma City to Tulsa to the little inn on Main Street, only two blocks down from the abandoned building. Tanya and Ellen had talked Sue into staying with them in a two-room studio, where Ellen and Tanya would share a king bed in one room, and Sue would sleep on the sofa sleeper in another. There was a door between them to block out Sue’s snoring, which was important to her because she was self-conscious about it. Plus, she had said she didn’t want to know about any possible lesbian activities going on in the other room.

  “You’re a hoot,” Tanya had said in reply.

  They planned to stay for a week, and the little studio room was cheap. Sue had considered staying with Lexi and Stephen but had said their one-bedroom apartment wasn’t much bigger than the hotel room. Sue also thought it might be too soon after the wedding for Stephen to have his mother-in-law as an overnight guest for a week.

  Tanya and Ellen also convinced Sue to walk, rather than drive, the two blocks down Main Street Sunday night to meet Carrie French and her team for the investigation.

  It was already dark as they made their way down the street on foot. Ellen was once again surprised by how many people and cars were in the area at bars, restaurants, and art galleries. The lights around Cain’s Ballroom, where country music could be heard pouring from its doors, lit up the end of the block. But even the light from Cain’s and from the lampposts along the sidewalk couldn’t compete with the twinkling stars overhead. Without the light of the moon reflecting the sun across the sky, more than the brightest could be seen overhead.

  Tanya pulled her jacket tightly around her. “It’s getting cold out here.”

  “You just don’t have enough insulation,” Sue teased. “This is nothing.”

  When they reached the building, Carrie and her team were already there, waiting outside the gate. Ellen unlocked the double-wide gate with the key she’d borrowed from Gayle and pulled it open so Carrie could pull the van closer to the building to unload their equipment.

  Ellen was shocked to discover that both Eduardo Mankiller and Miss Margaret Myrtle were members of Carrie’s team. There was a fourth member as well—a young man in his early twenties. Carrie introduced him as her son, Justin.

  After the introductions and after all the equipment had been unloaded, Carrie turned to her team. “Eduardo, I need you to record the temperature and EMF readings in each room downstairs, including the bathrooms. Make note of any odors you notice as well. Okay?”

  “How fun,” Eduardo said, already using a handheld device and notebook in the hobo room.

  “Justin,” Carrie said to her son. “Will you please set up the passive infrared motion detectors?”

  “Which rooms?” Justin asked.

  “This one, the two big rooms, and the bowling alley.” Then Carrie added, “Then set up the full-spec cameras from three angles in the two larger rooms for now.”

  “Got it,” Justin said.

  “What about me?” Miss Myrtle asked.

  “Justin already set up a card table and chairs in the first big room, Margaret. Why don’t you use that area to create some initial sketches as a baseline, and we’ll go from there?”

  “Sure thing, sweetie,” Miss Myrtle said.

  “I thought you didn’t want to be involved in anything that might be related to the riot?” Ellen asked her.

  “Who says this place has anything to with that?” Miss Myrtle asked. “Besides, my team can count on me, no matter what.”

  Ellen’s confidence in Carrie French was severely diminished, but she couldn’t very well call off the investigation. She may as well see how it all turned out. She’d left her own ghost hunting equipment back at the hotel, unsure if it would be welcome here.

  When the others had left the room, Carrie said, “I’d like to ask each of you a few questions, privately, while the others are setting up. Who’d like to go first?”

  Ellen volunteered. Carrie asked Tanya and Sue to wait with Miss Myrtle until she was ready for them.

  “I’m going to video record our session,” Carrie said, pointing the camera on her shoulder at Ellen. It reminded Ellen of the one used by Brenda from the San Antonio Ghost Busters. “Are you ready?”

  Ellen nodded, wishing she had a chair to sit in as she stood there awkwardly with her hands in her trouser pockets. Although there were no chairs, two lamps had been set up and plugged into a generator, illuminating the room. There was also a light on Carrie’s video camera.

  Carrie asked Ellen to report in detail what she had experienced in the building. Ellen told her about the whispers she’d heard—first with her friends, and later alone by the dumbwaiter.

  “Did you feel a change in temperature or in mood?” Carrie asked.

  Ellen shook her head. “Oh, but our phones died.”

  “Eduardo told me what happened that night you came back here with him,” Carrie said. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to share that with anyone. Can you tell me what you remember about that night?”

  Ellen didn’t like the idea of admitting all that had happened on camera, but once she started recounting the evening, she told Carrie everything—including the details about the child skeleton and the arm she sent to the online lab. She also mentioned the disappearance of the rest of the skeleton when they’d returned with the realtor the following day.

  “The wind that put out the fire,” Carrie began. “It came right after Sue asked the spirits for help?”

  Ellen nodded.

  “Okay, that’s good for now. Could you go sit with Margaret and send one of your friends over to talk to me?”

  It felt good to sit down after the walking and standing. Sue left and took her turn with Carrie as Tanya and Ellen quietly watched Miss Myrtle sketch. There were two floor lamps set up in this room as well, alo
ng with the lights on the camcorders that were placed on tripods in three corners of the room.

  “I’m sensing a great deal of pain and sorrow in this building,” Miss Myrtle said. “And anger. A whole lot of pent up anger.”

  Ellen’s mouth fell open as the image on Miss Myrtle’s sketch pad came to life: it was a crowd of angry black men surrounded by flames.

  Once the interviews had been conducted and the equipment had been set up, the team convened in the old ballroom. Carrie gave Ellen and her friends a handheld recorder and asked them to tie back their hair with some rubber bands she’d brought along.

  “We need each person here to keep their audio recorders on at all times so we can get accurate data,” Carrie said. Then to Justin, she said, “Put the EMF recorder on the floor. I’m afraid it’s going to move around on that chair.”

  Justin did as his mother had asked.

  “Okay, then,” Carrie said. “Everyone ready?”

  Everyone else in the room nodded. Ellen stood beside her friends towards the front of the room near the card table, where Miss Myrtle was continually sketching, as if in a trance. One of the three cameras was behind them. Justin stood opposite them near another camera and the machine he’d just placed on the floor by the back risers. Eduardo stood on the west side of the room near the archway to the old skating rink. The third camera was to his left, and to his right were the charred floorboards and broken glass from the night they’d encountered the old woman.

  “Let me do the talking,” Carrie said from where she stood in the middle of the room. The three cameras on tripods pointed at her from the different angles. “Go ahead and turn off the lamps.”

  Justin and Eduardo killed the lights that were near them. Only the pale purple glow of the cameras barely illuminated the room.

  Then more loudly, Carrie said, “Spirits who may be here among us, we mean you no harm. We come in goodwill out of a desire to help, not hurt.”