by Alexie Aaron
“You two are okay now?” Cid asked.
“Yes.”
“That’s all that matters. We go through many ups and downs, but it’s how we’re remembered at the end of our lives that is most important.”
“Whoa, another philosopher amongst us.”
Cid laughed.
Cid unlocked the front door, let Mia in and locked it after them. She walked over and picked up the micro recorder and pocketed it. She told Cid what she, Ted, and Murphy thought had happened to Burt, and her experience with the Dark Watcher. “Murphy told me that he thinks that there are two things going on in this place. One, we have the ghosties from McNally’s – the ones that got out. And two,” Mia said, walking over to the spot where Dash testified the bar stools had gathered. “There is an energy that seems to seep out of this spot. It’s why the ghosts are entering the building. They don’t know why, but they feel better here.”
“What do you think the Dark Watcher is?” Cid asked.
“I haven’t a clue,” Mia admitted. “It seems very passionate for a blob of energy. I didn’t touch it. I got the idea to do so would be at my peril.”
“I’m glad you’re taking the conservative approach,” Cid said.
“I have this child to think of.”
“And you too. Mia, you are so precious to all of us. I know that you can’t control what comes at you, but you can control who or what you go after.”
“Wise words,” Mia said. “After last night, I would say that this haunt could hurt someone. Wrong person in the wrong place at the wrong time…”
“Who’s going to break it to Dash that his employees are in danger?”
“Burt. I suggested he tell them to work in pairs if the place is empty of customers. I’m going to have to sit here again tonight and watch for trouble. This time I’m manning a bar stool.”
Mia walked in the back and brought out some cleaning supplies. She started cleaning up Burt’s blood in the ladies’ room and worked her way towards the crime scene, which Cid was documenting with cameras and other paranormal detection devices.
“Tell me, was the bump on Burt’s head from a sharp hit or a slap?”
“It was hard enough that, when he hit the floor, he broke his nose.”
“Blood spatter?”
“The pool here and then intermittent drops all the way to the ladies’ room. From there, none. The blood was from his nose. His scalp was not broken.”
“I’m not an expert, but I’ve been hit, kicked, thrown, and punched by ghosts, and I never got a goose egg on the back of the head. One time, when I was attacked by a school bully from behind, I ended up with a bump like Burt’s,” Cid said.
“So what are you thinking?” Mia asked.
“I’m thinking that there’s a chance that it was a live person who hit Burt.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Tom couldn’t stop thinking about the situation at the Gifford house. He picked up the phone and dialed Mia.
“Hello, Tom, is everything alright?” Mia asked.
“Yes, as far as I know, everything at the farm, Dieter, Lazar, and Maggie are fine. I wanted to consult with you about Bea White’s missing ghost.”
“Is Edwin gone?” Mia asked.
“As far as I can tell, yes. I found something. I’m sending you pictures, but hear me out first. Is it possible to trap a ghost?”
“Murphy got trapped in a wellhead in Michigan, so I’d say it’s possible.”
“So, then someone could trap a ghost.”
“The trap would have to be lined with silver or iron and have a tight seal, but how you convince a ghost to enter the trap is the big question. Your pictures are here, hold on. Okay, explain what I’m seeing?” Mia requested.
“I found this perfect square outlined in salt in the Gifford house attic. It measures seven inches by seven inches. I thought it was too small for a person to stand in for protection, then I got to thinking, maybe it was a box of some kind that someone wanted a ghost to stay out of or stay in.”
“Brilliant, at this point I’m agreeing with you. Go on,” Mia encouraged.
“Now don’t laugh. But I think Edwin Gifford has been ghost-napped.”
Mia didn’t laugh. “Why and by whom and for what reason?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out. Mind if I keep you on speed dial?”
“No, no problem. Tom, you may want to ask for Dieter’s help.”
“Why?”
“As an attrpeur-âme - a catcher of souls - he may be able to track ghost residue. Although, if the trap is sealed, then maybe not,” Mia argued her own suggestion. “Give it a try. Dieter may have some ideas that may help.”
“I really hate to involve a child in an official investigation.”
“Is it official?”
“Someone took something of value out of the Gifford house. I’m determined to recover the item and return it to Bea White.”
“Atta boy!” Mia said happily. “Keep me on speed dial.”
“Cooper, you’re my number two.”
“Ah, number one is your mum,” Mia rhymed.
“Yes, you wanna make something of it?”
“Oh, no, I’m just jealous.”
“Gee, Mia, I didn’t think…”
“Not jealous of that, Braverman. I’m jealous of you having the best mom.”
“Phew! I thought my animal magnetism finally reeled you in.”
“Please tell me you weren’t fishing.”
“I wasn’t. I just like to see you backpedaling, Cooper.”
“You have a punch in the arm waiting for you. Call me when you want to claim it,” Mia said and hung up.
~
Ira watched Nietzsche moving the radar inside the grid they had put together. Ira enabled the information to be sent directly into the PEEPs computer and the laptop on which Barb was monitoring their progress.
Burt was guided by Mia down the ramp to where Barb was working. She was determined not to lose sight of the man until she knew he was out of the woods with his head injury.
Mia set up a camp chair next to Barb and insisted that the investigator sit.
“What have you found so far?” Burt asked Barb.
“We have found what looks to be quite a few iron drums. Probably dumped in here in the sixties or seventies. We won’t know until we dig them up.”
“Would they be rusted?” Mia asked.
“Most certainly, why?”
“The entity Fergus said that he, Grady and Roy escaped the bar but weren’t able to return. I thought maybe the vibrations of the dirt movers may have caused the drums to shift.”
“That may be also why the parking lot would have trouble with small sinkholes,” Burt said. “If the dirt is loose enough down there and a drum moves, the dirt above it will eventually fill the space and…”
“The top sinks,” Barb finished. “Look here, there is what appears to be a large rectangular item pretty close to the surface, not impeded by the drums. I think we’ll dig down and see if we can get a better look. Don’t get excited, it may just be more garbage, but then again, it looks very similar to a lead coffin lid we found at St. Mary’s a few years ago.”
“So you think there may be a graveyard down there?” Burt asked.
“No, what I’m saying is, we’re going to dig it up, and then we’ll know for sure,” Barb answered.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a ghost lied to me,” Mia admitted. “But I have a feeling that it’s a bar and not a cemetery down there.”
Barb jumped up and said, “Well, the proof is in the digging. If you’ll excuse me.”
Burt looked at Mia, “Do you think she would welcome my help?”
“I don’t know, but she will tell you if she doesn’t want you there. How are you feeling?”
“I don’t know what you did, but I’m feeling pretty good.”
“Lucky you,” Mia said. “I’m going to go up and try to grab some sleep before the meeting. Call if you need me.” Mia h
eld up her phone and started up the hill.
Murphy appeared and gave her his arm.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
“How’s your leg?”
“Surprisingly good. I think its responding well to the salve Lazar gave me.”
“Good. I’ve been worried about you.”
“About me? What’s there to worry about? I’m just your ordinary demon-fighting woman with a penchant for cutting off my own limbs.”
Murphy laughed.
They had reached the top of the ramp.
“Fetch me if they find anything,” Mia said and headed to the truck.
Murphy, torn between watching the dig and patrolling the bar, chose duty over curiosity and headed into the restaurant. Dash had come in early and was restocking the bar. The expensive bottles of alcohol were wiped down and the contents noted. Murphy had never seen so much fancy bourbons. He wasn’t sure what most of the clear liquid was. He recognized a similar bottle of rum that the Martins had in their drinks cupboard.
Dash turned and asked, “Is someone there?”
Murphy manifested slowly. “Sorry, I was just patrolling and was captivated by all the bottles,” he confessed. “I didn’t know you were a sensitive.”
“I don’t think I am, but I think all of us know when we are being stared at. I read somewhere that it’s hardwired into us from our days of being prey.”
“Why are there so many kinds of alcohol?” Murphy asked, changing the subject. “In my day, there was beer, when you could get it, and whisky.”
“This is kind of an international array,” Dash started. “Drinking in America is more than the buzz, it’s become about taste and socializing.” He picked up a martini glass. “Martinis were a staple amongst the haves, but the have-nots were more into beers and flavored cocktails. That was until they started to flavor these. Some of them taste like a piece of gingerbread, a ripe apple or peach. It’s fashion you drink I suppose,” Dash said. “Our job is to stay with, and hopefully, a wee bit ahead of the trends. That’s why my bartenders regularly attend competitions. They haven’t won as of yet, but they’ve brought back many good recipes.”
“A few cordials were made by my mother’s friends, but she didn’t approve.”
“I wonder what she would think of all of this?” Dash asked, not expecting an answer.
“They are starting to dig in the lot,” Murphy said.
Dash looked wistfully in the lot’s direction. “I’m not sure if I’m excited or not. If I didn’t have every last dime of mine in this place, I would be taking up a shovel myself.”
“Mia says your place is quite profitable, that some nights there’s a line and you have to stand behind a velvet rope until there is room inside.”
“Ah, the velvet rope… You know the saying, ‘Given enough rope and he’ll hang himself?’”
“Yes.”
“Well, I don’t take that rope for granted, I take it as a warning. People will put up with waiting for only so long, and then they’ll go somewhere else. This is why we’re expanding. And once PEEPs gets all this stuff inside sorted, then I can possibly open for lunch. The neighborhood is changing around us. Soon we’ll have housewives pushing carriages, and they’ll need a place to have a good gossip. I’ll offer the stage to less raunchy musicians during the day, perhaps a string quartet. Can you imagine having little tea sandwiches while listening to Brahms?”
Murphy couldn’t but didn’t say so. He felt a strange pull to the center of the bar. He moved his hand over the spot and felt a light cosmic breeze.
Dash watched the ghost frown and asked, “What’s the matter?”
“There is cosmic energy here.”
“Is it bad?”
“Dunno? But this may be why the two hooligans were fighting here. It’s like catnip for ghosts. It makes us a bit silly or confused.”
“Like you don’t know why you want to stand here, and when someone else comes along, you want to keep them away?” Dash offered.
“Yes exactly.” Murphy moved away, conscious of the draw. “Mia thinks this is why the ghosts from next door are coming in. It’s like you’re serving spirits to the spirits.”
Dash laughed. “Well if they would behave themselves…”
“They won’t. The three that have come from that lot are rough work-hardened men. The bar that rested there was once filled with them. Fights would break out so often that the owner refused to buy more chairs.”
“Oh dear!” Dash exclaimed. “What am I going to do? I can’t afford to replace furniture.”
“PEEPs will get to the root of the problem, and I’ll recommend that Mia or Father Santos cross them over.”
“What about that black thing that watches… the Dark Watcher?”
“It hasn’t threatened you, has it?” Murphy asked, lifting his axe and looking around.
“No, but lately, whenever the shadows seem thicker, I get really emotional. Like grief. It feels like grief.”
“Dash, I hate to break it to you, but you’re a sensitive.”
Dash straightened up and thought a moment. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?”
“Not in our business,” Murphy said.
“Well, then, I accept it as a compliment. What do I do with it?”
“Pay attention to it. Let us know when the Dark Watcher is here. Mia or I may be able to communicate with it. Don’t touch it.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s solid energy,” Murphy said. “I don’t know what it would do to a living thing, much less myself.”
“Warned and triple warned. Phew, hairdressing was hard, but the only ghost I had to deal with was the return of the mullet.”
Mike opened the car door for Sabine. He had decided that since they were on the same shift, he would pick her up and escort her to work. Today Sabine was wearing a PEEPs shirt and black jeans. She carried a black cashmere cardigan.
Mike was tempted to ask her if she had stock in a cashmere company, but feared he’d hurt her feelings. And he knew if he hurt Sabine, Mia would never forgive him.
“Let me duck into the command center and check what’s going on,” Mike said, excusing himself. He opened the small door and climbed into the dimly lit interior.
Mason was intently going through some footage and patted the seat next to him. He whispered, “The Martins are sleeping behind the files.”
“Where is everyone else?”
“Cid’s in the construction trailer listening to the micro recorders. Burt and Ira are down in the pit. Barb has targeted her first dig at some rectangular shaped lead item not far from the surface. Murphy is everywhere. Last spotting of him was in the bar with Dash.”
Mike got up and walked quietly to the files and ducked his head around. Ted was sprawled out on one of the loungers snoring away. Mia lay, curled in the fetal position with her hand on her stomach, on the other chair. Mike was about to leave when the light that filtered between the files caught a trail of tears that fell from her eyes. He walked in, squatted down, and put a comforting hand on her back and patted it.
Mia’s eyes shot open. Something had pulled her out of the nightmare she was having. The shadow had a familiar smell. “Hello, Mike, is it time for the meeting?” she asked softly, not wanting to wake her snoring husband.
“Soon. I was worried. You’re crying in your sleep, Cooper.”
Mia got up and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Um, yes, I was. I dreamed that love died.”
“Love, or someone you loved?”
“The emotion.” She got up and walked into the control room and sat down before continuing softly, “I dreamed I was in a place filled with love. Everything that existed in this place was glowing with a stunning aura of, well… love. Then there was an explosion. Love was sucked out of the air and grief replaced it. Thanks for waking me up.”
Mason popped the tab of a Dr. Pepper and handed it to Mia.
“Thanks,” she said. She looked at Mike and Mason and listened to Ted’s happy little
snores and fought the burning sensation that would bring on more tears. “I think I’m in hormone overload. I just want to stay inside here with the three of you.”
“Girly-girl, it’s not hormones at all, we’re the best of the best,” Mason said. He touched his ear. “Yes, sir, Mike has arrived, and I’ll wake the Martins. Folks, it’s meeting time.”
“I guess that’s our cue. I’ll wake Ted,” Mia said, getting up. She ruffled Mason’s hair and touched Mike’s arm as she passed. She walked in the back, tossed a light disc down, and called out in her best impression of Ted’s mother, “Theodore Martin! You get out of bed before you miss the school bus!”
Mason and Mike heard Ted scramble, falling off the lounge chair in the process. “Mia, so help me, I’m going to…”
Mia ran by the two and launched herself out the door. Mason held out the rest of Mia’s Dr. Pepper which her arriving husband drank down in one gulp. He scratched his head when he saw Mike. “Hey, have you seen a short little ball of fire?”
“She ran out of here like Satan was breathing on her neck,” Mason said. “Burt’s calling for a meeting in the trailer in ten minutes. Go get cleaned up. You smell like a three-week-old burrito.”
“I take it you know what a three-week-old burrito smells like,” Ted said, walking back to the file to pull out some clean clothes.
Mike patted Mason on the shoulder. “I’ll give you some room. See you at the meeting.”
Mike walked out and saw Cid talking to Sabine. Ira and Burt were walking up the construction ramp. He saw Mia disappear around the corner to the bar. He suspected she was going in to take advantage of the nice restrooms inside.
Mia walked in and waved at Dash as she trotted into the bathroom. She took care of the pressure on her bladder first before she caught sight of her image in the mirror. “Well howdy, Medusa.”
There was a tap on the door that preceded Dash who was carrying a towel and tote bag. “Excuse me but…”
“I must have scared the crap out of you with my hair,” Mia said, still looking in the mirror. “It happens when I sleep rough.”
“Ahem, let’s leave the bedroom stuff in the bedroom,” Dash teased. “Here are my emergency hair products. First we wash, condition and then…”
