The Ghost and the Halloween Haunt

by Anna J. McIntyre

“How so?” Walt asked.

  “You sold that house to a couple raising their niece—and Pete Rogers did the same. The Crawfords are raising their niece. Weird how things work out,” Danielle said as she turned and headed for the doorway.

  In the kitchen a few minutes later, Danielle tossed the trash in the bin and glanced around, taking in the kitchen’s new look for the haunted house. Tonight Heather would come dressed as a witch, brewing up something in a cauldron on the stove. She chuckled at the thought and then turned to one of the overhead counters to grab a glass.

  A moment later she filled the glass with ice and water. Turning from the sink, she leaned back against the counter and took a sip. Her gaze moved around the room and landed on the mock severed head in the jar. She cringed. It was the creepiest and most realistic prop they had added. However, it was nothing more than a rubber Halloween mask, but how it had been placed in the jar, at first glance it looked eerily real.

  Danielle stared a moment at the gruesome sight. It seemed to look at her. And then, to her astonishment the corners of its mouth lifted up as the head shifted slightly in the jar, giving Danielle a ghoulish grin.

  Letting out a scream from the unexpected sight, the glass slipped from her hand, shattering on the floor, sending glass and water around her feet.

  Walt rushed into the kitchen. “What is it?” He looked down at the broken glass on the floor.

  “Did you do that?” Danielle squeaked. She pointed nervously to the head in the jar. It was no longer smiling, but looked exactly as it had when she had first come into the kitchen.

  Walt looked at the jar and frowned. “Did I do what?”

  Danielle stared at the mock severed head and shook her head. “I…I must be imagining things.”

  Nine

  It began as a light sprinkle and then accelerated until the afternoon rain pelted the rooftop in a noisy serenade. Ginny wondered if the persistent downpour would keep others away from the haunted house. She hoped not. It wouldn’t keep her away.

  Sitting quietly at the kitchen table, she listened to the rain and watched as Austin made ham sandwiches while Mia unpacked a box of dishes. Neither one had spoken a word in the last hour—not since their last argument. They fought a lot. But Ginny was used to fighting. It was her normal.

  Today she wore blue jeans and a blouse. The jeans were just like the ones Danielle had been wearing. Ginny liked Danielle. She had been nice and had offered her pizza. Jeans would probably work better with a ghost costume than a dress, Ginny told herself.

  Glancing around the kitchen, Ginny thought the place didn’t feel like home. She couldn’t imagine it ever would. With a sigh she let her mind wander, and she thought about Evan and the haunted house. It seemed like forever since she had made a new friend, and she liked Evan.

  Evan was brave, she thought, and fun. He had given her a tour of Marlow House before she had left last night. Nothing seemed to scare him. Not the casket in the downstairs bedroom or giving her a tour of the large spooky house without an adult escorting them. He laughed at the head floating in the bottle in the kitchen. For a moment she actually thought it might be real. But what impressed her most, Evan was not afraid of ghosts.

  Letting her mind wander, she failed to notice Austin had turned abruptly from the kitchen counter and practically slammed the plate with the sandwich in front of her on the table. It made her jump in surprise. She looked down at the sandwich. He hadn’t cut it in half.

  “Go ahead and eat,” he said gruffly and then added, “and then we need to get back to unpacking. There is a lot we need to do before you have to go to school on Monday.”

  According to Evan, he wouldn’t be at Marlow House until after 4 p.m., after he got out of school and went home to change his clothes. Ginny had some time to kill before meeting him. Leaving Austin and Mia in the kitchen, she wandered through the house, looking around.

  “No, this doesn’t feel like home,” she muttered.

  Now in the living room, she looked over to its peculiar brick corner. She walked over to take a closer look. Standing just a few inches from the brick wall, she cocked her head and studied the brass panel affixed to the wall. The next moment the doorbell rang.

  She had no idea who it was, but she didn’t want someone coming in and possibly asking her questions. Considering everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, that was entirely possible. If that happened, what would Austin and Mia think?

  Glancing around, she spied the stack of boxes along the other wall. It would be a good place to hide, she thought.

  “Go ahead and look around,” Ginny heard Austin say ten minutes later. She peeked out from behind the boxes and watched as he led two men into the living room. “My wife and I are going to be outside if you need us. But go ahead and look around. Let us know what you think.” A moment later he left the room.

  The two men stood in silence as if waiting for something. After a few moments one of the men walked over to the living room window and looked outside. “They’re on the side patio.”

  “Is that it?” the other man asked, pointing to the brick corner.

  Ginny watched as the two men hurried toward the brick corner and immediately began inspecting it, running their hands over the brass panel.

  “This is it, Cecil,” one said excitedly.

  “Not so loud, Chester, they could come in at any minute,” Cecil scolded.

  Lowering his voice, Chester said, “When the lady at the museum told us they’d kept the brick section of the original house, I couldn’t believe we’d be lucky enough for it to be this section of brick.”

  “I can’t believe nothing was discovered when they tore down the original structure.”

  “I’m sure she would have said something if they had.”

  “Now what?” Cecil asked.

  “Now you need to turn on that charm of yours. But first, we’d better check out the rest of the house before we try closing the deal.”

  Ginny waited for the men to leave before coming out of her hiding place. She wondered what they were up to—and who were they?

  Heather stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of her house and looked up the street toward Marlow House. The rain had stopped about twenty minutes earlier. She spied Pearl Huckabee standing next door on the sidewalk in front of her house. It looked as if she was busy hanging something on her fence. Signs? Heather asked herself.

  Heading toward Marlow House, she paused when she reached Pearl. Glancing at the signs now posted on Pearl’s fence, Heather chuckled. In a black marker Pearl had written NO TRESPASSING!

  “Getting into the holiday spirit?” Heather snarked.

  Pearl scowled at Heather. “It’s not the holiday season.”

  “Halloween’s next week. That sort of kicks off the holiday season.”

  “Nothing but an excuse for teenagers to get into mischief and children to beg for candy.”

  “Does that mean you aren’t handing out Halloween candy this year?” Heather asked.

  “I don’t believe in Halloween. It’s a pagan holiday!”

  “So you aren’t coming to the haunted house?” Heather asked. “Not sure we’re going to have the baby flying around, but there is going to be some cool stuff.”

  Pearl glared at Heather. “You know perfectly well I have no intention of going to that haunted house! I just hope vandals don’t do much damage considering all the riffraff it will be attracting for the next few days!”

  Heather rolled her eyes. “You really need to lighten up, Mrs. Huckabee.”

  Normally Heather would take a shortcut through the side yard gate at Marlow House, yet it was locked due to the fact they had already set the yard up to look like a cemetery, complete with realistic headstones. She wondered wryly how Pearl liked looking out her bedroom window at a makeshift cemetery.

  When Heather reached Marlow House’s front gate, she spied someone sitting on the steps leading to the front door. Pushing through the gate, she got a better look. It was Evan
’s little friend from up the street.

  “Hello,” Heather greeted her when she reached the girl. “Your name is Ginny, right?”

  Ginny nodded. “Yes.”

  “What are you doing out here?” Heather asked, glancing around.

  “I’m waiting for Evan,” Ginny told her. “He said he would be here around four o’clock.”

  Heather glanced at her watch. “Then he should be here within the next ten minutes. I imagine the chief is dropping him off after school.”

  “The chief?” Ginny frowned.

  “Yeah, Evan’s dad. His father is Police Chief MacDonald.”

  Ginny’s eyes widened. “Oh. And he’s going to be bringing Evan?” Ginny stood up and glanced around as if she were planning an escape.

  “Yeah.” Heather studied Ginny curiously.

  “Who else is coming over?” Ginny asked.

  “You mean before we open for the haunted house? Because we open at seven, and after that, I have no idea who will be here.” Heather grinned.

  “I mean before…before they open.” Ginny’s gaze darted to the street and then back to Heather.

  “Everyone who was here last night. You met everyone. Evan’s older brother is coming too, but from what I understand, he won’t be here until about a half an hour until we open. Why?”

  “Is Evan’s father staying? I mean until the haunted house?”

  Heather shrugged. “I doubt it. Why? Is there something wrong?”

  Ginny shook her head quickly. “No. I’m just cold.”

  “I saw you sitting on the front step. I imagine it was wet from the rain. Do you need to run home to change?”

  Ginny reached behind herself and touched the seat of her pants. She shook her head. “No, the step wasn’t wet.”

  Heather glanced up at the overhang covering the front porch and shrugged. She looked back to Ginny and said, “Well, if you’re cold, let’s go inside, and you can wait for Evan there.”

  “Hey, Chief,” Danielle greeted him when she opened the front door at four thirty on Friday afternoon. An anxious Evan stood by his father’s side.

  “Sorry we’re late,” the chief said as they walked into the house. “I thought this kid was going to explode if I didn’t hurry up and get him here.”

  “Hey, Evan.” Danielle smiled down at the boy. “You ready to make your ghost costume?”

  “Yeah, but I need to get Ginny so she can make hers too,” Evan said.

  “Don’t worry about Ginny, she is already here. She’s in the parlor.”

  “Then I can meet her,” the chief said.

  A few minutes later Danielle led the way into the parlor. Ginny stood in the middle of the room, hidden under a sheet. Slits had already been cut for her eyes, but the holes had not yet been cut, so it was impossible for anyone to see the eyes peeking out.

  “I assume you’re Ginny?” The chief laughed.

  Ginny nodded her head exuberantly.

  The chief laughed again.

  “This is my dad, Ginny,” Evan introduced them.

  Ginny’s sheet-covered hand waved at the chief.

  Evan looked at Danielle and frowned. “I thought you were going to paint our faces white instead of us wearing a sheet over our heads?”

  “Ginny said her aunt doesn’t like her to wear any face makeup, so I thought the old-fashioned ghost costume would work for her. We’ll do the face paint for you. And I’ll be adding an outside layer of tulle netting to give you both a more ghostly look.” Danielle grinned down at Evan.

  The chief glanced at his watch. “I need to get going. You kids have fun. It was nice meeting you, Ginny—sort of.” The chief chuckled.

  Danielle walked the chief back out into the entry hall, leaving the two children alone in the parlor.

  “I’ll be back when I bring Eddy. Maybe I’ll go through the haunted tour,” the chief told her. “I can be your test run.”

  When Danielle returned to the parlor, Ginny was no longer wearing the sheet, and the two children sat on the sofa together.

  “Danielle, I have a question for you,” Evan said.

  “What is that?” Danielle asked, taking a seat on the chair facing them.

  “Ginny and I were talking about what ghosts…umm…what they might look like if they were real.”

  Danielle arched her brow at Evan. “Hmm, really? And what do they look like?”

  “Like people,” Evan said. “Sometimes people you can see through, but not always.”

  Danielle grinned. “So what was the question?”

  “Why do people dress up in sheets when they pretend to be ghosts?” Ginny asked. “Why do people think ghosts look like sheets?”

  “Ahh…I don’t think people actually believe ghosts look like sheets. And most movies with ghosts in them, well, they normally do look like people—often transparent, see-through people.”

  “So why the sheets?” Evan asked.

  “Because a long time ago—I think it was in England—poorer people often wrapped their dead in old sheets after they died to bury them in. They couldn’t afford coffins.”

  “You mean like mummies?” Evan asked.

  Danielle nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. And so if someone wanted to scare someone, they might dress up in torn sheets to make the people think they had been buried and were coming back from the dead. I suppose after a while, people just started using a sheet to dress up like a ghost, instead of wrapping up like a mummy.”

  “So my brother and I are both dressing up as ghosts this year?” Evan asked.

  Danielle laughed. “I suppose, in a way. More like you’re both dressing up as the dead.”

  Ten

  Sergeant Joe Morelli had grabbed a quick take-out burger for lunch on Friday so that he could get a haircut. His naturally curly, thick dark hair had needed taming. His girlfriend, Kelly Bartley, preferred his hair a bit longer. Not so that it reached his collar, but long enough so that she could loop a finger through one of his errant curls. But shorter and tamer was more professional, and if Joe was anything, he tried to be professional.

  The cut was hardly a buzz, but the curls were gone. Standing at six feet, the shorter cut gave his husky stature a no-nonsense appearance as opposed to what Kelly privately called his teddy-bear look.

  He stopped by the break room before heading home and found Brian Henderson sitting alone at a table, drinking a cup of coffee. He paused at the door and looked in.

  “I thought you swore off coffee in the afternoon?” Joe asked.

  Brian turned to the younger officer and smiled. “I’m working tonight. I need the caffeine.”

  Joe stepped into the room. “Double shift?”

  “I’m covering for Gary,” Brian said before taking another sip.

  Joe nodded and helped himself to a cup of coffee. He then took a seat at the table with Brian.

  “You going to the haunted house this weekend?” Brian asked.

  “Kelly and I are going Saturday. Tonight we’re babysitting.” Joe grinned. He raised his cup and said, “So I’ll probably need the caffeine too.”

  “Babysitting?”

  “Kelly’s nephew. It’s the first time she’s watching him. Lily and Ian want to help at the open house tonight, so we agreed to sit with him.”

  “What about the other nights? I thought it was running through Halloween?”

  “Just one of them will help on the other nights. Not sure which one. I think they’re making tonight more of a date night. First one since the baby was born. They’re going out to an early dinner and then over to Marlow House at about six thirty,” Joe explained. “But knowing Lily, I can’t believe she won’t be popping in every fifteen minutes, checking on Connor.”

  Brian chuckled and took another sip of coffee.

  “So when are you going to take the haunted house tour?” Joe asked.

  Brian arched his brows at Joe. “Me? I’m not.”

  “If you don’t have anyone to go with, you’re welcome to go with Kelly and me,” Jo
e invited.

  “Thanks. But no thanks.” Brian set his now empty cup on the table.

  “Why not?”

  “I’ve seen enough odd things over at Marlow House to last me a lifetime. I don’t need to pay to see more. No, thanks.”

  “It will be fun. And it is for a good cause.”

  Brian shook his head. “No. I’m not going. I have no desire to tour a haunted house and have the chief’s sons jump out at me wearing sheets.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, it’s not really haunted,” Joe teased.

  Unsmiling, Brian stared at Joe and then asked, “Are you sure about that?”

  After Joe left a few minutes later, Brian remained alone in the break room. He looked down at his empty coffee mug and absently rubbed one finger around its rim while thinking of Marlow House.

  “Are you sure the house isn’t haunted?” Brian whispered to the empty room.

  Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes and thought about the strange occurrences he had witnessed at Marlow House over the last few years. There was the time it felt as if someone had slugged him in the entry hall, sending him to the floor. It had all happened so quick. He had foolishly grabbed at Lily right before it had happened, and he had eventually convinced himself he must have slipped. Perhaps his own hand flailed against his face in the fall, giving him the sensation of being slugged.

  But there was another time—even more bizarre—that he kept telling himself it had to have been the alcohol. That was the only logical explanation. It had been at Ian’s bachelor party, which had been moved from Ian’s house to Marlow House. It wasn’t just the fact some invisible entity dumped beer on him—it was the towel floating in the library to help wipe him up. A freaking floating towel.

  Brian shook his head at the thought. “It had to be the booze,” he muttered. Perhaps, but it had still seemed so real. There had also been other incidents—numerous ones.

  Heather Donovan had once told him she could see ghosts, even claiming she had seen Walt Marlow. There had been that time he had asked Evan who he was waving at and the boy had said Walt Marlow. And he wasn’t talking about the Walt Marlow who had once gone by his middle name, Clint.