McCann's Manor

by Charlotte Holley

  Liz smiled. “That is useful information, Peter. May I call on you for confirmation, should I need it, Willard?"

  Willard shrugged. “Sure. I'm always glad to help. So far, though, you have pretty well nailed everything."

  "Sometimes I need validation, though. I'm glad to know you're available."

  "Why, yes, Ma'am. I would be pleased to help."

  Peter looked at the ceiling, sighed, “If we're through with that, let's get this thing out of here. Willard, if there was any poison or anything in her, would it still show up?"

  "Poison?"

  "Yes, poison, Willard. You know what that is, right?” Peter pressed.

  "Sure, Pete, I know what poison is. They weren't embalming around here back then—so it would all depend on what kind of poison it was, I guess. You want me to check for poisoning?"

  "What do you think? I want to know cause of death. If poison was involved, I want to know that."

  Willard scratched his head, asked, “Don't I always check all the bases?"

  "Just use extra care with this, all right?"

  Willard grinned out of the side of his mouth, winked at Liz. “Oh, I get it, you're just getting me back for suggesting you dig up Constance's grave, that it? You can rest assured, I'll do my utmost to determine a clear cause of death, Sheriff."

  "Yeah, well, see that you do, Will. Liz, keep me informed on anything you find out about McCann, will you? Even if it is just a strong psychic impression, I want to know about it."

  Liz smiled. This was at best a mock investigation—a murder that occurred two hundred years ago left no one to bring to justice. Peter was making fun of her—and Willard—in his own unique way. He thought this whole thing was a waste of his time.

  "Not that it matters to anyone around here now,” Liz said, “But it matters to Ben and Constance—I'll let you know, Peter. Will you see about burying them here?"

  Peter nodded, headed from the room. “I'll be talking to you later. I have an appointment."

  Jack Lance was close behind Humphrey, but he called back over his shoulder, “Dental appointment; makes him a little more testy than usual."

  Chapter 15

  John and Liz came down the stairs after the coroner and other investigators left and joined Kim in the living room. “I had no idea there was going to be a body in every secret passage. Maybe you won't want to find any more of the passages,” John said.

  "Liz has promised me this is the last body,” Kim replied. “Right, Liz?"

  Liz smiled, shrugged. “I did say that. Of course, I'm not positive. Finding out things about your own life and surroundings is the hardest, as you well know."

  "Wonder why that is,” John mused.

  "It's the human doubt factor—no matter how psychic a person is, he or she is still human and where you have humans, you have doubts,” Kim said.

  "Don't you have doubts about other people and their things?"

  "Sure,” Liz said, “but doubts about them don't interfere as much somehow. I can't explain that. You're a dabbler in the paranormal mysteries; don't you sometimes know things about or for other people better than you know them for yourself?"

  "Hmm—well, I suppose so, but I don't get much psychic information. The subject fascinates me and I've read everything I can get my hands on, but I'm just not a good psychic. People like you blow me away,” he said.

  "I believe everyone is psychic. It's an inborn talent we all have; most of us just learn at a very young age to block most of the information we receive,” Liz said.

  "I have heard that, but I haven't ever experienced it,” John said.

  "Well,” Kim inserted, “it does help if you can allow yourself to believe you're psychic. You have to accept that you do receive hundreds of psychic impressions every day; trust those impressions and they begin to make sense for you."

  "That sounds logical, but I still have trouble with it,” he confessed.

  Liz and Kim smiled. “You have to practice believing and trusting—a lot,” Kim explained.

  John pursed his lips and shook his head. “I don't know that I will ever be able to believe and trust enough to say I'm psychic. I do have a question for you, though, Kim."

  "Sure. What is it?"

  "Well, Gracie and Wade told me you're both empathic, clairvoyant, clairaudient channels."

  Kim looked at the floor. “Yes, that's true, but those are merely labels, you know. Most psychics are a combination of one or more of the categories and most psychics can display any or all of those attributes during the course of a paranormal investigation. What you call it doesn't matter."

  "Okay, I know that; but I have been wondering though, why Liz has talked about her psychic impressions and you haven't. Gracie said you're the one who is the most open about your abilities—so I'm a little confused, I guess."

  Kim looked at Liz. “I'm going to make us something to drink. Tell him what's going on."

  "Thanks, Kim!” Liz said with sarcasm. “I appreciate it. How come I get stuck with the explanations?"

  Kim looked back over her shoulder, replied, “Because you are the one who has trouble declaring—so declare! Iced tea?"

  "Sounds good,” John said.

  "Back in a few minutes. Go ahead, Liz—declare."

  "Declare?” John asked.

  "Yes. Well—how to put it? Have you ever seen two or more parapsychologists working on the same project together?” Liz asked.

  "No, I can't say that I have. Everyone I have had out here has been a loner. Why?"

  "Kim and I always work as a pair on this kind of project because of the inherent dangers involved in working with spirits. One parapsychologist working with his impressions alone puts himself in a very vulnerable position, as you have seen with those who have come here before.

  "You see, whenever a spirit is stuck on this plane, for whatever reason, it means that spirit hasn't gone to the light yet. He or she is no more trustworthy than he or she was in life. Spirits who haven't been through the light can lie, trick and cheat—there is no law that says they have to tell you the truth or even deal with you honestly,” she explicated.

  "Oh. That makes sense."

  "Yes. Now the way Kim and I work is, whichever one of us gets the first contact is the primary psychic in the case—because for whatever reason, the spirits chose to contact the one over the other and whoever gets the first contact is able to maintain that contact better. Kim and I are well matched as far as psychic abilities go and she could have been the one to make first contact."

  "Oh, and you were contacted by Missy."

  "Yes. As you know, all spirits can be deceiving and some are even dangerous. For that reason, whichever one of us is not the primary psychic becomes the control. In other words, the other one—in this case, Kim—tries to maintain as much psychic distance as possible,” Liz stated. “Kim is holding a neutral position and watching my back, so to speak. That way, I can let all the impressions come through me and still know she is stable and grounded should I get into trouble."

  "Wow! That is a great idea."

  "I can't tell you how many times it has saved my butt! It could be the reason we have such a good track record. Most of the other parapsychologists I know work alone—but there are so many things that can go wrong. And as you have mentioned, you can lose touch with reality if you go it alone and get into an area you don't know how to handle."

  John pondered her words. “That's why you said you channel when Kim is there?"

  "Yes, that's the reason. A channel, even a well-seasoned one who has taken all the preliminary steps of protection, is opening a passage—or channel—to the spirit world. Should an unscrupulous spirit decide to cause trouble without a control there, the results could be less than desirable."

  "You said you don't have problems with ghosts."

  "Well, I don't, but that may be because I seldom work without my psychic net."

  John stood, paced the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “Another question?"
<
br />   "What is it?"

  "I can't get this out of my head, so I have to ask—is it normal for the person you're channeling for to be able to see the person—or the spirit—you're channeling?"

  Liz shook her head, replied, “It has never happened to me before. I have read of similar manifestations, but as a rule when a spirit is strong enough to appear, that spirit doesn't need a channel in order to get through."

  Kim's face blanched as she stood with a tray at the entrance to the kitchen and asked, “You saw Missy last night when Liz channeled her for you?"

  "Yes. Is that bad?” John asked

  Kim looked at Liz; Liz shrugged.

  Kim put down the tray on the end of the dining room table, stood a moment in stunned silence. “Why didn't you tell me?"

  Liz's answer was a shake of the head.

  "What is it?” John asked.

  "It was a blatant show of power, John. That isn't consistent with the sweet, reticent girl we have been led to believe Missy was.” Kim said at last.

  "What does that mean?"

  Liz looked at Kim, then at John, “It means that either Missy is not the entity she has been representing herself to be—or that some other spirit is controlling the information we have been receiving,” Liz said.

  John's eyes grew large as he sat down on the sofa. “Am I getting this right? Do you mean that might not have been Missy?"

  "That is a possibility,” Kim said.

  "But it looked just like her—how could it have not been her?"

  Liz sighed and sat beside him. “John, a very strong spirit—one capable of manifesting in a form—could have reached inside your mind, found what you expected to see and hear and played it right back to you. I am so sorry; I guess trying to channel her for you wasn't a very good idea."

  John stared at Liz, his eyes brimming with tears. “But it seemed so real—"

  Liz took his hand, agreed, “For me, too. But I have been deceived before. I should have waited until Kim could be there to monitor it for us. I wasn't exactly unbiased. The primary psychic can't be logical during the process; that's why having a control is a more sensible approach."

  "I—d-don't know what to say,” John stammered.

  Kim joined Liz and John on the sofa, “John, I want you to think—was there anything Missy said or did that made you even the least bit suspicious it might not be her?"

  He hid his face in his hands, pushed his palms over his eyes, pondered aloud, “I can't think of anything—except that, as you say, she wasn't the sweet, timid-seeming girl I knew. She was more assertive, even forward, compared to the Missy I knew."

  "I know this isn't easy for you, but you have said Missy had a lot of monsters. What did they say her psychiatric problem was? Was it multiple personality disorder?” Kim asked.

  "Yes,” John answered.

  Liz and Kim looked at each other. “Then there is one other possibility here, as I see it,” Kim said.

  "What's that?” he asked.

  "Missy lived here from her childhood, John. There are several spirits at play here that we haven't even identified yet,” Liz began.

  "Missy was young and what we would call a sensitive—maybe even had an above average amount of psychic ability herself,” Kim added.

  "Yes, but what does that have to do with it?"

  "Don't you see? She saw those spirits and heard them; may have even spent enough time with them to get to know them. Some of them may have done more than get to know her,” Liz said.

  "Possession?” he asked.

  Liz shrugged. “Something like that. I have always believed what psychiatrists call multiple personality disorder—as well as a number of other psychological disorders—could be spirit possession, for want of a better term for it. I'm not sure it is possession per se, but could be a case of spiritual domination."

  "Spiritual domination? What is that?” he asked.

  Kim shook her head. “That is a theory of Liz's. According to her postulation, people who are quiet, shy, timid—like Missy, for example—are susceptible to being dominated by other spirits who are earthbound but wish they had an outlet in human form again."

  "One or more spirits might cluster around such an individual and might take over some or all of that individual's personality,” Liz continued.

  "How would that be different from possession—or from multiple personality disorder, even?” John asked.

  "From the outside, there is little or no discernible difference whatsoever. It looks the same; seems to behave the same.” Liz said.

  John shrugged, “I'm afraid I don't get it."

  Liz sighed. “Okay, for the sake of argument, let's say we have a case of possession. A multiple's problems stem from inside themselves; in their own minds, for whatever reason. In a case of possession or domination, the problem comes from the outside. The entities converge on the person and begin to take over parts of that person's life. The thing is that from the outside, it would look the same, and any psychiatrist would most likely diagnose it in the same way—as a mental illness."

  "I suppose that's true,” he agreed.

  "We don't know what happens to the psyche of a troubled person after they die. A multiple might always be a multiple, even in the spirit world. In paranormal circles, one would argue the spirits would leave the one being dominated once death occurred, because they were drawn to her in the first place because she was living. They wanted a body to play with, so to speak. So in theory, when Missy died, they would have left her because the body had ceased to function,” Liz explained.

  "Yeah, that's what I would think,” he said.

  "But there are some spirits that get their kicks from the domination of others, whether there is a body involved or not. In fact, a disembodied spirit who was gentle and meek, like Missy, would be all kinds of fun for the kind of spirit that wants to dominate others,” Liz added.

  John shivered, “That is terrible. I remember feeling dominated myself and it wasn't at all fun. Do you think she could be some kind of prisoner?"

  "That would depend,” Kim said, “on whether she is—was—in fact a multiple or not. That is why I asked if we could get her records."

  Liz shot a glance at Kim, “You asked for her records?"

  "Yes, I asked John this morning to see if we could get them. There are some discrepancies in the story she told about her father's death. Why, for instance, didn't Betty hear the gunshot?"

  Liz was silent a moment. Why did it bother her that Kim had asked to see Missy's records? Hadn't she herself had doubts about Missy's story? Wasn't she relying on Kim's designated clear detachment to protect her? She felt dizzy and—angry. She took a deep breath, tried to look at her response, but she was not able to face her emotions with any objectivity in this case. Was she being dominated, too? If so, who was doing it and why? She should be glad Kim was sensible enough to think to look at Missy's stay at the institution. Maybe there was something in the files that would shed light on the incongruity she herself had sensed in Missy's story. Liz closed her eyes, rubbed her forehead.

  "Liz? Where did you go?” Kim asked.

  "What? Oh, I was thinking. You're right; I had wondered about Betty's not hearing the gunshot, too, but I dismissed it because Missy was so convincing. I have also been dubious over Missy's constant questions about whether I believe her. If I hadn't believed her, why would I have continued to pursue conversations with her?” She closed her mouth. Was that answer too contrived? Maybe not, but it felt suspect even to her. She frowned, shook her head.

  "Are you all right?” John asked.

  "No, I'm not. I feel—like I need some fresh air. Can we take our tea and maybe go out to the gazebo?"

  "Good idea,” Kim said. “Here, John, can you take the tray? I'll go get those cookies I bought at the bakery and meet you out there in just a minute."

  "Sure,” John said. “Come on, Liz. The view of the river is magnificent from the gazebo. Have you looked at it before?"

  "No, I haven't been o
ut there yet. I meant to, but I just didn't make it before."

  "You're in for a treat.” He balanced the tray on one of his large hands, opened the door for Liz and followed her to the gazebo, then set the tray of iced drinks on the white wrought iron table in its center. He picked up one of the glasses, asked, “Sugar? Lemon?"

  "No, thanks; I drink my tea plain. I find it quenches my thirst better."

  He handed her the glass, watched as she drank deep. “Liz?"

  "Yes?"

  "Are you sure you still want to be my friend?"

  She smiled. “Why wouldn't I?” she asked.

  "This thing sounds like it may get pretty hairy before we're done with it. I didn't help anything by letting you channel her for me. You left yourself open to some pretty scary stuff on my account—"

  "No, it wasn't just on your account, and besides, you didn't know. I did it for both of you, so that you might be able to find some closure. When my husband died, it was very sudden—we never got to say goodbye and I had trouble with it for a long time. I believe there is a healing power in being able to say your farewells, for both the parties involved."

  Kim joined them, poking a handful of cookies at Liz. “Here, eat these chocolate ones,” she instructed.

  Liz laughed, took two of the cookies. “Thank you, Mommie,” she said.

  John chuckled, “What is this?"

  Kim smiled, replied, “Sugar, chocolate, caffeine, beef—all good for chasing away the spirits—or good for making you be less able to perceive them."

  "Is that good? I mean, should you dull your senses if they are hovering over you?” he asked.

  Liz chuckled, said, “Maybe not—just another false security blanket—but it can be a very comforting one."

  "I see. Well, that's good to know. Next time I feel hemmed in. I will go for chocolate, sugar and caffeine."

  "And don't forget the beef! What took you so long, Kim?” Liz asked.

  "Interesting,” Kim replied. “You were just out of the house and the phone rang. It was Jack Lance calling to tell us that when they opened that rusty metal box, they found several love letters from Ben to Constance—and their marriage record. Peter may think we are daffy, but you have impressed Jack.” Kim commented.