by Alexie Aaron
“Praying,” Susan repeated.
Mia took Susan’s hand and let the healer within take stock of the older woman. Aside from the reset shoulder and bruises, Susan was in remarkable shape. “Just the bruises and shoulder, and it’s settled back in nicely. You’re a marvel.”
“I think it’s all the time coaching. The Frigidaire weighed a bit more than our star linebacker. If I knew it was falling, I would have rolled out of the way.”
“You were already on the floor?”
“I tripped over something. I think I caught my foot on one of the chairs. My attention was elsewhere. The cupboard doors were flapping.”
Mia nodded as she listened.
“You believe me! Of course, you would believe me. Why would I make this up?” Susan asked.
“I’ll go over there after I leave here…”
“No need. Tom didn’t see anything.”
“Susan, I can see more than Tom. How about I send Murphy then?”
“You guys have too much on your plate. If I see the faintest twitch of a plate or hear a creak of a cupboard door, I’ll call you.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. Whatever was there is gone.”
Mia didn’t want to scare her friend, but in her experience, ghosts and poltergeists rarely dropped in and left after scaring the crap out of the homeowner. However, it may have taken years to build up that much energy. Some inert spirit maybe? Mia would still insist on seeing the place before she’d let Susan come back.
“How did you get on at the bookstore?” Susan asked.
“Dieter found a poet. Although, he’s got a long way to go. He takes everything so literally. For example, an arrow through the heart means just that, an arrow through the heart. Dieter wondered how the poet survived the attack.”
Susan laughed. “My husband used to write me poems. He was quite good, but after he landed me, the poem writing petered out.”
“Ah poetry. I never thought about it much. I just did the basics in order to graduate early. Poetry was the last thing on my mind as a teen.”
“Speaking of graduating, have you heard from Ethan Aldridge?”
“He stopped by to pick up his computer. He also gave Brian some heartfelt advice. Maybe, just maybe, we’ll see less con artist and more happy little boy out of our Brian.”
“Brian’s a little different, but his heart is in the right place,” Susan assured her. “Although, he gets on better with the adults than the kids at Bear Cub Bounce. Kids who are smarter than the rest can be a bit bullying,” Susan cautioned.
“Ethan addressed that quite well. He spoke about his own experiences - according to Murphy, who was eavesdropping. He talked about letting the other kids choose the games instead of insisting on the ones Brian wants to play, which are usually way over his peers’ heads.”
“All kids start off a bit selfish. They want the toy the other kid has. Sharing is the hardest lesson to teach.”
“Now that Brian has a little brother, maybe the lessons will get easier. It must be hard to teach an only child,” Mia said.
“Tom was a problem. He didn’t socialize until he started playing sports,” Susan shared. “He was always the hanger on, until he hooked up with Whitney.”
“What a great example Whit was,” Mia said, remembering the high jinks they experienced as followers of Whit’s crowd.
“You two survived it. Look at you now, a responsible parent married to a kind man who dotes on you. I only wish I could launch Tom.”
“He’s going to be Sheriff of Big Bear Lake County,” Mia said proudly.
“He’s still living at home.”
“If you were my mom, I’d never leave home. I understand the draw,” Mia teased.
“You are too sweet. Shame, you and Tom…”
“Cut that out. I’d be a nightmare for a daughter-in-law. Ted’s mom gets off easy because we live in two different states with a rather large state in between.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Mia. You’re gracious, fun, kind, accepting, and…”
“Stop! I’m starting to believe that propaganda you’ve been tossing around Big Bear Lake.”
“You expertly avoided the Tom issue,” Susan pointed out.
Mia grinned. “K. This goes nowhere - do you hear me - nowhere.”
“I promise.”
“We were attracted to each other way back before recorded history, but there was no spark. We’re like siblings,” Mia admitted.
“I can see that,” Susan agreed. “He’s always been very protective of you. He wasn’t pleased when you and Whit finally hooked up.”
“I destroyed both my and Tom’s friendship with Whit by doing that. I hope Tom will forgive me one day.”
“He has. Tom’s easy.”
“No, he’s not. Like I said before…”
“Mia Cooper Martin!” Susan exclaimed, shaking her finger. “Now you’ve gone too far.”
Mia smiled from ear to ear.
Mia pulled into the Bravermans’ driveway. She watched the trash men move down the street picking up the large bins as she waited for Murphy.
He appeared beside her. “Are you ready to break into the acting sheriff’s house?” he asked.
“When you put it that way, no, but I’ve got to be sure of what happened here. Someone could be targeting Susan because of her relationship with us.”
“Let’s go. I’ll move through the house and open the back door for you.”
Mia walked around back and waited. She liked the Bravermans’ large no-nonsense backyard. You could play soccer, toss a football, or enjoy a game of tag without worrying about tramping all over expensive landscaping. The only flowers in Susan’s backyard were dandelions.
The door opened, and Mia walked in. She was immediately hit by the anger that had recently moved through the place. “Do you feel that?”
“The hissy fit?” Murphy asked.
“Yes.”
“I do. I get the sense that whatever it was, is gone.”
“Me too.” Mia walked through the house several times, upstairs and in the basement. There was nothing paranormal here. The only ghosts were the memories of Tom, Whit, and Mia playing Ping-Pong in the rumpus room. She walked back up and stopped again in the kitchen. “It was in here, the foyer, and the mudroom.”
“Maybe it was brought in with some groceries? A bad melon?” Murphy suggested with a wry look on his face.
Mia burst into laughter. “Haunted fruit, that’s all we need.”
“PEEPs investigates a watermelon seeded with the souls of the dead,” Murphy said, doing his best Mike impression.
“Clever,” Mia said. “Well, whatever was here is now gone. Let’s stop at the grocery store just in case their fruit has gone bad.”
It was Murphy’s turn to laugh.
The waste hauler idled as Mia backed out of the drive. She waved a thank you and drove away. The truck moved into position, and the long arm grasped the bin and moved it to empty it into the truck. The operator glanced at the text message he received, and by doing so, misjudged the distance, and some of the garbage fell outside the truck. Swearing, he got out and grabbed the newspapers and tossed them inside.
As the vehicle moved down the street, the trophy, that had gotten caught on the side edge of the truck, vibrated off and landed in the Bravermans’ ditch.
Chapter Eight
Burt looked around the office at the PEEPs. Murphy was the only one besides himself who was standing. Cid and Ted had turned around in their workstation chairs and scooted to the table. Audrey was shifting through some last-minute emails. Mike was tormenting Mia while Jake glared at one and all from the large monitor on the wall.
“Glad to see everyone here. Welcome back, Mia, you were missed. Mike had no choice but to behave himself.”
Mike nodded and put his hands on the conference table top and folded them together.
“Glad to be back,” Mia said. “Let’s go on a big juicy ghost hunt!”
> “Juicy?” Burt asked. “Can we have a better adjective? Juicy seems like…”
“Gooey corpses,” Ted finished.
“I agree,” Audrey said. “No juicy ones, please.”
Mia sighed.
“I do have a few legit haunts that we’ve been requested to look into, but I wanted to first talk about Sentinel Woods.”
Cid, Ted, Murphy, and Mia groaned.
“You were the one who called me, Mia,” Burt pointed out.
“I called to tell you that I was going into the woods with Lazar and his grandmother. I asked if you wanted to come along. I said it would be an opportunity to film some old French trapper ghosts,” Mia clarified. “You’re the one who wants to go in and rest the critters.”
“What about Jason Jones and Keith Summerfield? You said that they deserve a chance to move on,” Burt snapped.
“K. What I said was, I was worried about them if they hadn’t moved on. I doubt any illuminated-halo place is want for their company.”
“I admit we have some unfinished business in Sentinel Woods,” Ted said. “But, Burt, we barely survived the adventure. We including Murphy, the super ghost.”
“What if I got us a guide?” Burt asked.
“Ethan wasn’t interested when I last spoke to him,” Mia said.
“Well, evidently, he’s changed his mind.”
The four groaned again.
“Tom Braverman wants in too…”
“No way,” Mia argued.
“Let me continue, please. He’ll join us on the condition that the Sentinel Woods location remains a mystery and we use aliases for Jason Jones and Keith Summerfield. We need to coordinate this investigation to coincide with the Popovs’ visit. Lazar understands that we are going to film and will warn his parents and grandmother about this. He doesn’t think it will be a problem. His grandmother, he told me, will probably be a camera hog. Mike, I will put her under your guidance.”
“I’m not sure this is a good idea. I can see four people not disturbing the creature, but a full PEEPs investigation?” Cid voiced.
“It is what it is,” Burt said. “We have the prior knowledge of the creature, a guide who knows the terrain, the support of the county police, and the fire power of Murphy and Mia. I think it puts us in the positive column.”
“What is the goal of this investigation?” Mia asked.
“To introduce the Popovs to the creature. To film and rest the spirits of those left behind.”
“She’s not going to let you rest the spirits,” Murphy said. “She feeds off of them,” he reminded the group.
“What if we just rest Jason and Keith?” Burt asked.
“I’m not sure they’re there,” Murphy said.
“If they are, do you think she would have a problem with us taking them out of there?” Burt asked.
“Maybe,” Murphy answered, not really knowing. “She isn’t a thinking creature; she acts on instinct.”
“I’ll consider myself advised,” Burt said, frowning. He was really surprised by the dissention in the group. Sure, he hadn’t been part of the original team to navigate through the nightmare that was Sentinel Woods, but he was sure he was doing the right thing. Could it be that because Mia now had three sons to support, she was getting conservative? Was it time to replace her?
Mia looked over at Burt and glared.
“Fuck, you’re reading my mind right now,” he thought.
Mia closed her eyes very slowly, and when she opened them, a small tear traced its way down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away before speaking. “I think that we’ve expressed our concerns and they were noted. I’m very serious when I say that you have to be on your A-game before you put one foot in those woods. I’ll go in, but it will be only after safety issues are met. I don’t want to die as the ground falls in. That’s not the way I’m going out.”
Ted stared at his wife. His heart swelled, and he reached a foot under the table.
Mike leaned over and whispered, “Your husband is playing footsie with me.”
Mia couldn’t help breaking into a smile. She pointed to Mike and signed. “You’re feeling up Mike’s leg.”
Ted’s face turned bright red.
“I didn’t know you could sign,” Mike said.
“I was ordered off my feet for quite a long time. I had to do something constructive.”
“Excuse me, would the two of you like to share?” Burt asked.
Mia and Mike shook their heads.
“Okay, let’s move on to new business. Audrey, I believe you’ve found us a possible haunted factory?”
“As you know, I’ve started back at my consulting business. I was asked to tour a Rust Belt factory that a web-based retailer would like to use as a transportation hub. It used to manufacture tractors…”
Audrey’s voice faded as another one filled Mia’s mind. It was scratchy almost to the point of being croaky, reciting prose while being accompanied by a clicking sound that Mia couldn’t quite identify. She drifted away, and the clicking became rhythmic and the voice softer as if she had slipped beyond the oral utterings and into the mind of the poet. A gentle hand squeezed her arm, bringing her back to the present.
“The new owners would like us to take a tour. They are fine with us filming,” Audrey concluded.
Mia looked down at the paper she’d brought with her to take notes on. It was filled with doodles of feathers, big black feathers intermixed with human hands. Mia flipped the paper over and gave the meeting her full attention.
“Let’s take a break. I’m expecting an email from another expectant client,” Burt said. “Don’t go far.”
“Snacks are on the counter of the kitchenette,” Cid directed.
Mike got up, pulling Mia up with him. “Can I have a private word with you outside?”
“Sure, I need to get some fresh air. Give me a moment.” Mia walked around the table and whispered something into Ted’s ear. He said something quietly back and watched as Mia grabbed a jacket before exiting the office with Mike.
They walked quickly down the drive.
“I think this is out of Cid’s hearing range,” Mia said. “What’s going on?”
“That’s what I wanted to ask you. You were away with the fairies during Audrey’s presentation. I looked over at you and your eyes weren’t even open. You were drawing so fast and furious that I worried you were going to disrupt the meeting.”
“So, it was your hand pulling me back,” Mia said. “Thank you. I don’t know quite what happened. It was as if I was being pulled away with words. Poetry.”
“Could it have been a spell? In some magic communities, spells have a certain meter,” Mike offered.
“I’m not sure the speaker was aware that I was there? I kept hearing a familiar clicking sound, although it was deeper. The sound resonated. Like a keyboard, but each key connected with more than a circuit board.”
“A typewriter?” Mike asked.
A look of realization came over Mia. She tugged on Mike’s sleeve and said, “Come on. Come quick,” before she took off running towards the farmhouse.
Mike caught up to her inside as she took the stairs two at a time. Lazar had flattened himself against the wall of the hallway, holding Varden as Mia flew past. Mike would have stopped to explain, but he was unsure what they were doing.
Mia knocked lightly before opening Dieter’s door. The room was empty. She walked over to the desk and picked up the poetry book. She handed it to Mike.
“A Raven Types,” Mike read aloud. He read the back and flipped through the pages, appreciating the style of the supposed raven. He stopped and read a verse, his cultured announcer’s voice filled the room:
How can alliances be forged
When deceit runs rampant
Within the ranks
When even a friendly hand
Has become tainted by
the blood of betrayal
Pray that our mission
Has not been compromised
&n
bsp; That we have not lost sight
Of our true objective
And as we enter the fray
Let love be our rallying cry
Lazar walked into the room. Mia took Varden from him as they listened to Mike recite the poem again. When he had finished, Mia opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come out.
“Is this the style of what pulled you away?” Mike asked.
“This is the poet who pulled me away. I don’t think it was on purpose. Somehow the words are acting as a mind portal. Why they are connecting to me is a mystery,” Mia admitted. She nuzzled Varden’s neck to find solace there.
“Was Dieter reading this about ten minutes ago?” Mike asked. “Or maybe Brian?”
“No, the boys are in the aerie with Mark,” Lazar said. “Varden and I were just leaving to join them when you came running up the stairs.”
“I was reading Burt’s thoughts, so my mind was open during the meeting,” Mia said. “Maybe that was enough. We have been working on poetry with Dieter. I have a lot of this book in my head. Maybe I’m just connecting with the past. A haunt if you will…”
“Is there anyone you can talk to about this?” Mike asked. “Any other mind readers?”
“Father Santos, maybe… Angelo,” Mia realized. “Birdmen communicate silently with each other during battle. This is how they surprise their enemies. They swoop in and out without a word.”
“Angelo’s involvement is not going to make Ted happy,” Mike warned.
“I don’t think Angelo makes anyone happy,” Mia said. “Let me think on this for a while. I would appreciate if the three of you would keep this to ourselves.”
“Three? Are you including Varden?” Mike asked.
“No, Murph. He’s standing in the doorway,” Mia said with her back to the door.
Murphy materialized and looked rather sheepish.
“If I haven’t connected to the past…” Mia started and stopped to think things through before continuing, “then the poet is still alive… possibly a bird. If he’s a bird, he’s a raven. And if he’s a raven, is he a birdman?”
“Hell, I hope not,” Mike said. “I hate to think that those feathered bullies have the ability to write beautiful poems of love and loss.”
