by Kim Hornsby
By the time we pulled through the town of Smuggler’s Cove, I’d had a two-hour nap and had to apologize to Carlos. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you, Dude. Last night took a lot out of me. Two investigations in two nights is too much.” Apparently automatic writing was like being occupied by a ghost and left me down a pint.
“What was the secret you found from Gibson?” Rachel asked as Carlos turned the van and slowed. I was pretty sure my mother wanted currency to use with Ron but I had no way of actually knowing that.
“I was just messing with him,” I said. “Did he look nervous?”
“Ha!” My mother was amused. “That’s my girl.”
“Ron’s partner looked like you were about to expose that he cross-dresses, let’s just say,” Carlos added.
“There’s Spook Central and Jimmy’s here already,” Eve said happily. She’d asked if Jimmy Big Ears could come visit this week. He was between jobs and had a few days off. “He wants to see me,” she’d said. “We’re kind of in a relationship.”
“You’re telling a psychic this?” I’d joked. “Yes of course he can come, but I don’t know if we have enough bedrooms for him to sleep in his own room.” Eve snort laughed at that one.
As soon as we parked, she burst from the van. Rachel helped me hook up Hodor in his harness and I let my dog lead me up the stairs to the front door of my house. Cove House was beginning to feel like home. I hated to say it, but these days, it was more convenient than Floatville, especially because my posse was growing in size every week. Next, Carlos would have a relative or significant other come to stay indefinitely. It was his turn to add to our flock.
Although Eve tried to take Hodor’s job of helping me mount the stairs, I dismissed her to simply hover and watch. I had TapTap helping on the other side just in case something stood in my way. I wasn’t completely trusting of Hodor’s guide dog abilities. Not yet.
Inside the door, I hung up my coat on the Thingie hook and felt Hodor stay at my left hip. “That’s my boy,” I smiled. Every day as a blind person I got a tiny bit more independent from Eve and anyone else I employed to help me get around. Rachel had assured me that she’d try to sleep in her own room tonight, the one she’d shared with Ron and as she nervously took her bags upstairs, I grabbed Hodor’s handle. “Kitchen,” I said, then headed off in that direction. Soon, he’d learn to take me all over the house.
Although I was still exhausted from two nights of investigating ghosts, I wanted a cup of tea before retiring to my room for the evening. Carlos had given me a MEL meter from our stash and I now turned it on hoping I’d get something ghostly as I fumbled around the kitchen.
After taking off Hodor’s harness, I let him out the kitchen door, then put the kettle on. Just as I placed the kettle on the stove, I felt a presence in the room. “Jacqueline? I asked the room. “Are you here?” The MEL meter clicked over on the table. “Jacqueline?” I said loudly. “Is that you?” It wasn’t Caspian or I’d have sight. The room grew frosty and I felt a cold hand on my right wrist, as though it was about to pull me somewhere. I swiveled around and my arms flew out instinctively. Nothing there. I felt nothing more as the MEL meter settled and registered the magnetic field and temperature. I couldn’t see a damn thing and I had to assume the touch had not been from Caspian.
“Jacqueline, I know you have reason to hate Caspian, and it must be hell to be stuck in this house with him. My job is to help ghosts pass on and that means I can probably also help you,” I added. My voice hitched in my throat at the words that I might help this woman who’d given us nothing but grief.
Minutes passed. Tea was made. The room was warm again and still I tried to find whoever had grabbed my wrist. I sat at the table and sipped my tea. “If you are Jacqueline,” I said pretty positive it was her who’d just been here, “give me a sign.” I listened to the sound of wind outside the house, rattling something in the distance. I was just taking another sip when the meter went off again. The kitchen chair beside me slid across the linoleum floor. “Who’s there?” Hodor scratched at the door and I got up, bumping into the chair. I let him in. The meter continued to click as I closed the door on the night’s wind.
The hand that took my wrist had a strange feel to it. “If you are not Jacqueline, give me another sign.” I walked to the table, my teaspoon clattered to the floor.
“Who are you?” I wished I could see if anything in the room changed. Hodor laid down at my feet. “I’m blind,” I said, just in case this was one of the other ghosts Caspian said inhabited the house. “If you aren’t Jacqueline, or Caspian, can you give me another sign?” I felt around on the table for the Ghost Box I’d brought in with the Mel Meter and turned it on. I hated using this thing because the noise was so intrusive, like horribly loud white noise. “Who are you?” I now had a clear idea that the ghost in the kitchen with me was neither Caspian nor Jacqueline, and my heart raced to think I was making contact with one of the other entities.
When I’d once asked Caspian who the others were, he’d changed the subject, saying they rarely got through to this world. “Did they die in this house?” I’d asked.
He’d replied that they had, long ago, and doubted that I’d ever hear from them. “Belinda didn’t.”
“I’m Bryndle. What’s your name?” I said and waited.
The Ghost Box gushed scratchy noise into the room, like a large waterfall in the spring.
Then, I heard it. Somewhere in the static, I detected something. I didn’t catch the word but assuming it wasn’t a threat, I continued. “Nice to meet you,” I said, more cheerfully than I felt. I had no idea what was said, but something was very clear to me as I sat on the edge of the kitchen chair listening to endless static.
This ghost was a child.
***
I left the kitchen, hoping to find Carlos but soon realized that everyone had gone to bed while I made tea. At least, Carlos was not in the den and as I listened with my super-hearing, I heard nothing but the creaks of Cove House. Mounting the stairs with Hodor, I contemplated waking someone to share the joy that I’d gotten a word on the Ghost Box. Maybe from a child. Eve was busy with Jimmy though and Carlos would be tired from pulling an all-nighter on Monday and a mostly all-nighter on Tuesday. I let everyone sleep.
When I entered my room, I half-expected Rachel lollygagging in my bed, but didn’t hear anything, No snoring, no laptop streaming, no commenting that I looked like death warmed over. I guess she’d truly moved out. I wasn’t disappointed but was skeptical how long it would last now that she had no protector from ghosts in her room down the hall.
I got ready for bed with the idea that my tryst with Caspian might continue tonight. At least I hoped it would. In the shower, I shaved my legs and hoped I got all the spots by feeling for stubble. I creamed my arms and legs after I dried off and made sure my toenails hadn’t grown to curling over proportions. I dried my hair, standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, habit, and dabbed a touch of my favorite perfume on at the nape of my neck--L’Eau D’Izzy. Feeling like I was putting more into this sleep than was probably necessary, I gave myself a pep talk about not being disappointed if my hunky pirate didn’t come visit me tonight. It didn’t work and I got into bed, hopeful. I didn’t slink down into the covers. Instead, I sat there seductively, arranging the covers around my waiting form and as sexy as I could manage, tried to summon my man.
“Caspian? Are you with me here? Can you hear me?” I continued this way for about thirty minutes until I finally gave up. Eventually, I slid down in the bed and closed my eyes to find sleep and who knew what else might come in the middle of the night.
My mother arrived in the room before I’d even lost consciousness. “I just can’t stay in that room,” she said making her way towards my bed.
“Too scary?” I mumbled from my pillow.
“Ron and I broke up,” she said.
Now, I was fully awake. “What happened?”
Rachel pulled back the covers to get in beside
me and sniffed, like she was crying. “I think he was using me to get to you,” she said flopping around to get her comfortable position. “And he’s considering getting back with his ex-wife,” she added.
The first one didn’t surprise me but Rachel saying it out loud did. People used her all my life to get to me. “Which is the worse crime?” I asked.
“Using me to get to you.”
I felt badly for my mother. That sucked. “I’m sorry.”
Rachel never asked for my advice in love, or for my predictions, something I’d always found curious.
“Why do you think he was using you to get to me?”
“He told me just now on the phone.”
“What a prick!” I sat up in bed, ready to drive to Ron’s stupid onion apartment and sock him in the jaw. “Why would he say that to you?”
“Probably because when he said he and his ex-wife are giving it another go, I told him I was relieved to never have to pretend he was good in bed.”
I swiveled to face my mother. “You didn’t?”
“I did. Then the conversation got heated and he finished with he used me to get to you.”
“What did you finish with?” I could only imagine.
“I simply said that because he was such a stupid cop, he needed an extra edge like my talented daughter.”
I laughed out loud. Soon Rachel joined me.
“Easy come, easy go,” my mother said.
“If you want to stick it to him, tell him we know who killed Mrs. G and dangle that over his head.” Eve had taken a photo of the pages of automatic writing and when she’d given them back to Ron, she’d conveniently neglected to include the final page. Jimmy’s mother had translated the Italian and just before we left Floatville, Eve confided in me. Mrs. G’s words from the grave had said “and you know what car monkey had access to that,” never giving the name of her killer but she didn’t need to. Her daughter’s fiance was a mechanic with access to the exact poison that killed her.
“That no good rat of a fiance, Luigi,” my mother said. “Oh, poor Teresa. What a way to go. But she had the last word, didn’t she?” My mother was silent for a while. “I just might dangle that tidbit in Ron’s face, tell him we’re going to air the footage and name the killer.”
I was too tired to tell her we couldn’t air the footage or risk being arrested for interfering with an investigation. Besides, I wanted her to go to sleep happy. “Atta girl,” I whispered. “Bounce back with revenge.”
My eyes shut and I hoped Caspian didn’t arrive during the night, see my mother in bed with me and head out the door in disappointment.
***
When Carlos navigated his way to the kitchen the next morning, I had coffee made and was back wearing jeans and a big baggy sweater over a utility bra to hold what Harry had once called “God’s gifts.” L’Eau D’Izzy still clung to my neck but my night of not contacting Caspian had left me disappointed. Until I got downstairs, played back the recording, and texted Carlos to come listen.
“What do you think?” I asked Carlos.
We moved to the room with all the equipment and my tech wizard separated out the one word to bring to the forefront. As Carlos worked, I started a fire in the fireplace and settled in to my favorite chair with my laptop.
I hadn’t told Carlos what I thought I’d heard, nor had I told him that I was sure our new ghost was a child so what Carlos said next sent chills up my spine verifying what I believed.
“It sounds like ‘Tommy’,” Carlos said through all the rewinding and playing of the few seconds of a miraculous breakthrough. “I think the voice belongs to a little boy.”
I assumed Carlos was looking at me. “I thought so too.” My heart sped up again to think that we had made contact with another ghost in Spook Central. “A child whose name was Tommy. That’s why I called Joan Hightower this morning to ask if she knew about a child dying in this house.” I paused for effect.
“And?” Carlos could probably see my smirk.
“And she told me that Tommy Cuthbertson died of typhoid fever in the house, leaving his parents grief-stricken. Charlotte took ill shortly after and died herself. Some said of a broken heart.”
“Aye chihuahua,” Carlos exclaimed. “You contacted another ghost.”
I hadn’t fully revealed to Carlos that Caspian and Moonraker, the cat, were only two of six ghosts. He and Eve knew I called Cove House Spook Central but had never asked if there were more ghosts beyond the ones I’d talked about. Even I wasn’t sure who the others were. Jacqueline was the third ghost, I knew that, and now I assumed Tommy was Ghost #4. I did not want Eve or Carlos to be freaked out by the sheer number of dead people floating around the place. Six ghosts were a lot, even if one was a Tabby cat. Maybe, Tommy’s mother was the fifth. When she’d died, the husband packed up and moved back east, selling Cove House to Stevens. Who was the sixth ghost though? Next time I saw Caspian, I was going to ask him to give me a list. The thing was, that every time I was with that man, all the things I meant to say or ask of him went flying out the window.
***
That day, after recounting the amazing encounter with Tommy to Eve, and filling her in on the Ron disaster, we planned our next investigation to take place at midnight. I’d suit up in something that made me look like a sexy rocker chick and ask anyone lingering in Spook Central to come through. We’d play the audio from the Ghost Box that said “Tommy” and let our peeps decide if the new ghost had given us his name. Our followers always had a lot to say on social media, some not very nice, but mostly offering theories about what was going on in the other layer of our haunted house.
Eve and Jimmy spent the day mostly holed up in their room and feeling restless, I decided a walk outside would be good for me. I’d been meaning to take Hodor to the beach again once we got back to Cove House and finding out that the day was not rainy, I asked Eve to supervise my first steps of an outing I wanted to take on my own. “Make sure I get on the trail and don’t topple over the edge of the cliff onto the rocks below.”
“Do you think you can manage the stairs down?” She’d asked as we walked across the lawn, me hanging on to Hodor’s harness handle.
“There’s a handrail, right?”
“Yes.”
“I did them with Caspian but maybe it would be good if you supervised. I’m pretty sure TapTap and Hodor can get me back up.” I couldn’t remember what the stairs were like on the day Caspian and I went to the beach because we’d been talking and laughing, and I’d taken my eyesight for granted.
The air felt like spring and I was elated to be wearing only jeans and a sweater outside on this not quite sunny day. Hodor took me down the stairs like a champion and as I managed the last step to the beach and found both feet on the sand, I dismissed Eve and set out in the direction of the surf. I could easily hear the ocean’s edge. So could Hodor. And he could see it, but even with the surf in sight, he took me a few steps until I took pity on him and removed the harness imagining him sprinting to the water. Memories of walking with Caspian flooded in.
I stood near the edge of the surf and held out my arms, letting the watery early May sunshine warm my face. I could hear Hodor splashing around in the surf, barking at the waves, but today I had something else on my agenda. I’d come to the beach for another reason too. I stood listening to the surf roll in against the sand and concentrated on how Caspian died. I had reason to believe that he drowned. Or more accurately, that he was knocked unconscious and thrown into the bay. I wanted something more concrete like a big ol’ fat clue. Maybe, if I had something to tell Caspian, he’d appear. I’d worried over the last days that he’d disappeared because I wasn’t holding up my part of the bargain by investigating his murder. But, in my own defense, being blind made it harder and the fact that he’d been dead one hundred and seventy years, made it almost impossible to investigate. Unless you have freaky psychic abilities. And I did.
Standing where the ocean met the sand, my arms flung out, my eyes closed,
I appealed to that ability with everything I had. I emptied my mind of all the junk that usually circulates around in there and concentrated on Caspian. I had to put out of my mind my need to summon him and instead focus on what happened to him long ago that had him dying and passing from my world into another dimension. “How did you die, Caspian?” I said out loud.
I tried to take myself back to that night in 1855, when Caspian’s life was snuffed out in this bay. I found myself sinking lower and lower into a strange shade of darkness.
The light behind my eyelids went from black to brown. Spots appeared and I opened my eyes to see that the bay was now dark. Had I been here all afternoon? Impossible. Eve would never let me stand on the beach for hours. Or would she? Hodor was nowhere in sight.
As my eyes adjusted, I saw the dark form of something down the beach. There was no moon and it was hard to see what it was, but the size and shape told me that it might be a rowboat. Men’s voices spoke, words I didn’t understand until I realized they were speaking French. I walked closer to view the boat. Caspian was in the boat, passed out and slumped against the side, his hair loose and flowing over the gunwale. “Caspian!” I shouted. Two men looked my way and pushed off the sand, through the waves more insistently now that they knew someone had shouted their way. Caspian was being rowed out to his ship, now slumped to the bottom of the small boat. A gash bled from his head, his hair matted with blood. I couldn’t see most of this but the information came to me none the less. I imagined myself as a receptacle taking in the information. More. More, please.
A large ship was anchored in the bay, sails down, lanterns lit and it was from that light that I could barely make out the silhouette of the rowboat as it headed out. Music drifted from the house on the hill behind me as if a party was in session. I heard the shrill laughter of a woman. The waves rolled into the shore and I struggled to stand as I ventured out, watching the small craft. The cold waves hit my legs and continued around me.
