I snorted, “Describes every playboy I have ever known. Was Elizabeth prosecuted for the murder? Do you think that's who is haunting the place?”
“Sadly enough, Elizabeth caught pneumonia in prison and died before her trial. Justice was never served for Adeo Monterro. And if she were innocent, as she claimed with her dying breath, there was no justice for her either.”
A creepy feeling shimmied over my body and Emily shuddered too. Wow. That’s weird. Please, God. My child is too little to be dealing with such abilities. I swallowed as I gave her another bite. Her trusting eyes were clamped on mine and I whispered to her. “It’s okay, baby. Eat your food.”
“I heard back from Bonita and that mirror is original to the house. Could it be that Elizabeth is trying to make contact through that mirror?"
"Anything is possible--as you well know. But I don't know, Helen. Something feels off. It just feels like we’re missing something."
"Well, this might interest you. Mrs. Monterro claims that the prop knife had been replaced. But the police didn’t believe her. They found it strange that she’d written this murder scene just a few weeks before and she wrote the scene for herself and her husband. The detectives postulated that Mrs. Monterro planned this murder right from the beginning. Being the playboy Adeo was, it wasn't hard for them to jump to their conclusions. Mrs. Monterro wanted to kill him, she was a jealous and scorned wife, and she wanted an audience to witness her wrath."
I whistled at that potentially dramatic plot twist. I reached for the peaches and popped the cap as I listened to Helen's information. She was a proverbial well of historic fact when it came to Mobile’s sordid history. Digging historical bones had been incredibly difficult on this last case because I couldn't find much about Brady Hall. Apparently, though, Helen had mad research skills and hit the motherlode.
“So if Elizabeth Monterro was telling the truth then that means somebody else had to set her up? Is that what you are thinking happened?"
"That is what I'm thinking. I think there is a murderer out there still. An injustice remains and it needs to be corrected." Poor Emily nodded off now that her appetite settled down. I considered Helen’s theory.
I whispered, "Let's keep all this in mind tonight and see if we can tempt Elizabeth to speak to us. Maybe she will be willing to tell us who actually killed her husband or maybe she will confess. Either way, I am happy you came across this information. Thank you so much, Helen. Now how about some peaches?" I showed her my peach covered hands.
She wrinkled her nose at that suggestion. “Hard pass. I’m meeting my sweetheart for lunch at Mama’s. I like my peaches as a cobbler.” She put her papers back in her file and slid those into her purse. “But I'll see you tonight, Sierra. Please, don't get up. I'll show myself out.”
I smiled my thanks. "Thank you for coming and thanks for visiting me. I enjoyed this. Really. I sometimes forget what it's like to be in the adult world without dogs and screaming children.”
Helen rose from the table and paused in the doorway. Her elegantly painted fingernails looked so bright compared to the white molding. If I had to name that color I would call it Candy Apple Red.
Ugh, I was badly in need of a manicure.
"Don't be in a hurry to put these years behind you. Life is incredibly fleeting,” she said softly. “See you tonight, Sierra." And with that, she left.
I smiled and lifted my sleeping daughter from her chair. I watched from the curtains as Helen drove away. With foam beads everywhere and clothing covered in peaches and green beans, I suddenly felt very blessed.
Life was too precious to wish it away.
Chapter Eleven--Sierra
About thirty minutes before Joshua and I were to head out to the Gulf Coast Paranormal offices, I got a Messenger notice from Rose, Midas’ friend. I did a little digging earlier, just to be nosey. Rose had an interesting social media profile, to say the least. The woman was into all sorts of cool things like graveyard etchings and Day of the Dead makeup artistry and she was a photographer. Her profile was littered with interesting grave markers, cemetery statues, sugar skulls, but nothing with her face.
Strangely enough, or maybe not so strangely, without looking at her face, Rose reminded me of the late Jocelyn Graves.
Got a minute?
Just a few. Leaving for investigation in 30.
Only take a sec.
Anytime you're ready.
Joshua went ahead so he could take Emily by Mrs. McBride's. The dogs were settled down and the house was quiet. Quieter than it had been all day. I tapped on the laptop screen and I was anxious to meet this Rose character. No, not anxious. I was nervous, though I was not quite sure why. The screen flickered and then made a beeping sound to let me know we were connected.
“Hey, nice to meet you, Rose,’ I said awkwardly. “I’m Sierra.” Well, that was a pretty dopey intro. Who do you think she was expecting, dumbass? My tired brain warned me that this would be a long night. I sipped my coffee as I tried to get it together. Man, I was so very tired.
"Yeah, you too. Midas calls you Little Sister, but he’s not your brother, right?” she asked pointedly.
Um, ok. I wasn’t sure where she was going with this line of questioning so I just replied, "No, he’s not. We're really close though, like sister and brother. I couldn’t tell you how that got started.”
Actually, yes, I did. Sara nicknamed us that early on but I didn’t want to give Rose an opportunity to bring her up in any conversation. “Did you get a chance to look at those pictures I sent? What do you think? Are they legit?”
“They’re unusual. That’s for sure, man,” Rose replied as she stared at the screen. Clearly, she was looking at the pictures even as we were speaking.
To make the silence less uncomfortable I rambled on, “I'll be honest, I am not great at identifying phonies. It's not hard to pull a fast one on me when it comes to photos so I am grateful for your help. Our client is in a desperate situation. The guy we used to work with a while back ago, Peter Broadus, he was a whiz at this sort of thing. As you know, Jocelyn was too, but anyway… I'm rambling. What did you find out?"
Geez, Sierra, way to keep it together.
Rose tilted her head and studied me as if she wanted to say something but she didn't. She was shockingly pretty white piercing green eyes. Oh yeah, there was more to this chick than meets the eye. She shook her head and got to business.
"Well…I opened the photo in my Pandora’s Box software. I don't know if you're familiar with PB, but it’s a really awesome tool that helps you pick up patterns. Pictures are like fingerprints,” she explained, “they have expected lines and clusters of pixels and all sorts of tells that identify them as originals.”
“Neat,” I said hurriedly, hoping she’d get to the point. I hated being the last one to arrive at the office. Not a good look for the Boss Lady. She didn’t.
“Pictures that have been manipulated in some way lack those original fingerprints. I don’t find any evidence to show that this picture has been doctored in any way. It's a real image. An original. That doesn't mean that there wasn't someone standing around pretending to be a ghost, but there is definitely no bs going on as far as the actual picture." Rose paused and clicked on her screen. "Now the picture you sent me last night…that one was really wack. That looks as if someone erased you. I mean there's nothing to indicate that anyone is standing outside that window, but you say you were there so I believe you. If the fingerprint grain is any indication, it seems as if an energy source blotted out your image. It takes a lot of energy to shield a solid object, Sierra. But according to the picture itself, you were not there. Period."
Rose’s words tugged at my heart. What could this mean? Were the entities at Brady Hall telling me to stay away? Was I crossing some sort of line? Were they threatening to erase me if I came back? I got the feeling that I was being threatened, but I didn't know how to process that. I was definitely feeling unusually anxious.
"You sure you’re cool? Y
ou seem worried." Rose said as she sipped her iced coffee, clearly unphased by our exchange.
Midas had said not to bother trying to hide my feelings from her. He said she was intuitive, and dang it if I wasn’t true. Intimidating was the word that came to my mind. Not sure why she seemed nice enough. She had icy white hair and perfect cat eye make up. She was pretty but in an unassuming way. Like she didn’t know it and didn’t care about it. It was obvious that she wasn’t the kind to try to impress anyone. I was envious of her long lashes and dark painted nails, and vaguely recalled a day when I had the time and patience to try a new look.
Man, that’s what I need. A day at the spa. Or two, or three.
“You know that ghosts can be a-holes. If it’s targeting you, Sierra, it feels threatened.” Even behind her glasses, her intense green eyes seemed to pierce right through me as she said, “You have abilities, don’t you? Does anyone else on your team have abilities?”
“I do. Cassidy does but she’s not on this particular investigation. She’s currently out of town.”
“My advice and you can take it or not, is to take a few minutes before you start the next stage of your investigation. Have a quiet conversation with whoever is in that house. Explain to them that you are there to help, not harm. They may not know the difference.”
How odd that she would use the word stage.“Uh, okay. Anything else?”
She smiled showing perfect white teeth. “No. That’s it. Message me if you need anything else. And Sierra, remember to breathe”
“Rose? I’m sorry to hear about Ben.”
“Thanks. Later, Sierra.” She smiled faintly and just like that, Rose with the pretty green eyes and silver hair was gone. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I instantly remembered what Rose said.
Explain to them you come to help…
Dang, that made so much sense.
I left the conversation feeling hopeful. I closed my laptop. I grabbed my purse and keys and headed to the office to catch the van. I intended to do exactly what Rose suggested. By myself and before anyone else got inside Brady Hall. Maybe there was a simple misunderstanding here. That was entirely possible.
We carried the same equipment as we did the night before. There was no change in tactics either, but we were all very quiet on the trip over. Helen had given us all a lot to think about. Her info was about all we did have; that and some interesting photographs that we captured last night, along with that ghost light upstairs and a few odd reflections in the mirror. Okay, so we had quite a bit. But no apparitions though and no one was talking in any of the EVPs.
We were low on the evidence so far, to say the least. Unfortunately, that shadow figure I caught out of the corner of my eye had not been snapped with the camera, but we knew there was something going on. I talked to the team a little bit about what Rose said about the photos being untouched. Which amazed everyone. I didn’t go into detail about what she said about my photo. Or the absence of photos to be exact.
Midas did not call to check in on us and I completely forgot to call him. I guess everything was hunky-dory with those two. I didn't like the fact that they were texting and calling me independently of one another, but that was a fight for another day. I just didn’t have the energy for it.
"Guys, if you wouldn't mind giving me a minute in the house alone. I'd like to talk to whoever is there and just let them know that we don't intend any harm. There might be some confusion about why we are there. Rose suggested it and I think it’s a good idea."
"Do you think that is safe, going by yourself?" Joshua asked as he turned off the van. We were sitting in front of the house like a load of criminals. This would all be amusing if it wasn’t so serious. Hopefully, nobody called the cops on us. This was a nice neighborhood, after all.
Joshua put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it lovingly. "I mean if there really is a murderer lingering around in the afterlife at Brady Hall, it might not want to talk. Whoever it is probably knows the jig is up. I don't want you taking more risks than you need to, Sierra Kay.”
Why did he always say this? I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.
“Yeah, me either and quite frankly I am tired, but I have to do this. If it doesn't make any change and it doesn't affect anything then no harm, no foul. It’s hardly likely that I’ll make things worse, but I'd like to cover my bases. Agreed, everyone? It should only take a few minutes.”
Bruce tapped the back of the van seat, "Great idea. That will give us a few minutes to get everything together and then we’ll meet you inside."
I grabbed the keys to Brady Hall and went into the building with my “feelers” on. It was all quiet again. And in my mind’s eye, I visualized multiple shadows creeping up the stairs and into the attic. These weren’t Shadow People. They weren’t dark entities. They were ghosts. Dead people and several of them. I wasn't going to chase them. That would certainly send the wrong message. Rose was right. They were afraid. All of them. I wondered why?
I went inside and stood on the stairs about midway and called up politely. "Hello? I know you’re there.”
Not a sound, just squeaking floorboards. “My name is Sierra and I just want you to know that I am not here to hurt you. None of us want to hurt you or scare you. I'm sorry if we've done that. We are only here to get the truth. We only want to help you."
Like any decent investigator, I waited for a response even though I wasn't really expecting one. These spirits didn’t want to talk to me. Not yet. I wanted to give the ghosts a chance to communicate if that's what they wanted, but nobody said a word. I heard nothing but the creaking of the house all around me. Man, this place was noisy. Why was every place I stepped creaking in this house? There were some seriously creaky boards at Brady Hall.
"That mirror crashing to the ground was a good trick. You really got me with that one, but that's not necessary. Are you trying to tell me you want me to have seven years of bad luck? Are you trying to tell me that you want me to leave? I can't leave because Bonita is afraid. It would be really great if you would stop scaring her. But you can talk to me if you want. I can help you." Another pause met with silence. "My team is coming in now. Please don't harm them or threaten them. We're only here to help.”
As I walked down the stairs, I glanced toward the kitchen just in time to see the tail end of a white dress disappearing around the corner. Naturally, I hurried to see who it was, but there was nothing there. Nothing at all.
I faintly heard the light, pretty laughter of a young girl.
Game on.
I opened the front door and waved the team inside.
Time to get this show on the road.
Chapter Twelve--Sierra
With Helen’s new evidence and the fact that I couldn’t forget Rose’s referral to this part of our investigation as a “stage,” we decided to begin night two in the former auditorium. Or what Bonita called the multi-purpose room. It was a large area and had the tendency to produce weird echoes, but it was the perfect location for tonight’s focus. The dead that were here--if they were here-- Adeo and Elizabeth Monterro, used to perform on the stage nightly for an excited audience. From what we had experienced in the past, actors rarely gave up the spotlight. Not willingly. This tactic worked at the Crescent Theater and we had good results by pretending to be interested in seeing a play.
Bruce went to the trouble of dressing up in period clothing and even laid out props that were supposedly relevant to another popular play from around the same time. There were no known copies of Ode to Rebecca, but we gave it a shot. Surely they would be familiar with Yellow Bird, another celebrated stage show from around that time. Bruce cleared his throat nervously as he clutched a few printed pages in his hand. With a flashlight in one hand and the paper in the other, he began his performance. I kept the SLS camera fixed on Bruce as Helen carefully placed her audio recorder on the table near him. She tiptoed back to her chair and offered some applause. Joshua was holding the infrared camera, panning the roo
m slowly.
Here goes nothing. Break a leg, everyone!
As Bruce paused for a dramatic flair, Helen clapped again just as if she were an enthusiastic fangirl. I played along and cheered as well, but I had to hold the camera steady. I prayed that we would attract somebody's attention, but so far we weren't getting any results. Bruce spoke with the bravado of a showman and paced the floor as he did his best to do the play Yellow Bird justice.
It was a good thing Bruce hadn’t gone into acting. He wasn’t great at it. He paused in weird places, kind of like Shatner and I glanced around the room thinking he’d spotted something behind me, but there was nothing there. Our Bruce was merely a very bad actor. Helen kept him on track with her occasional excited clapping.
"Bruce! I mean, Mr. Monterro. We need an encore! Encore!" I shouted loudly as I kept the SLS focused on Bruce.
Helen joined me in encouraging him. “Please, Mr. Monterro! We are your biggest fans!”
Within a few seconds of mentioning the former owner, a figure mapped out on the screen. It shone pink and it had long arms and legs. The stick figure wasn't as tall as Bruce, not that he was very tall, to begin with, but the being’s arms moved erratically. Almost angrily. I got the feeling that somebody did not like us using Mr. Monterro’s name.
I didn't have to say a word to Joshua, because he had been peeking over my shoulder when the SLS grabbed the first image. "Keep going, Mr. Monterro. We want that encore!" Joshua encouraged Bruce to continue with applause and a whistle.
The Spirits of Brady Hall Page 7
