Frank chuckled, shaking his head. The old lady was always going on about spectral spirits and her fear of them; how threatening they could be. It was best not to argue with her, she was adamant in her beliefs. “Now, Myrtle, you know how Abigail can be when she’s in an artistic fever. If she wants to paint that house, bad history, specters or no, she will. Nothing will stop her. She won’t listen to me, either. Did you tell her how you felt?”
“Sure I did. She refused to heed my warning.”
“There you go.” Frank shrugged his shoulders and then settled down at the table across from Myrtle. “I don’t like her going out there, either, but for a different reason. The house and its grounds aren’t structurally safe. But, as with you, she wouldn’t listen to me. She’s going to do what she wants to do. Always has. I did ask her not to go inside the house, stressed it, and she swore to me she wouldn’t do that. So that’s something.”
“Yeah, that’s something,” the old lady mumbled sarcastically. “I don’t think the ghosts will care where she is, though. Inside or out. That whole place is haunted. All over. All around. They’ll get her, if they want to get her, wherever she is.”
Frank was also smart enough to know here was one subject he couldn’t win with Myrtle. So he placated her the best he could. “Sorry. I can’t help you there. Abby was so excited this morning with her new project; she will paint that house no matter what anyone says. I’m not going to be the bad guy here.”
“Humph! You’ll be sorry all right when one of those evil ghosts try to scare or hurt her.”
Again, Frank humored her. “Why would any spirits in or around that house want to hurt anyone? Since Abby told me about the place, I did some checking. Earlier, before you came, I called my old partner Sam Cato on the Chicago Police Department and asked him to see what he could learn about the house and what had happened there. I really didn’t know much when Abby first asked me about it. Detective Cato has access to classified criminal records through the national police registers that I can no longer tap into. He found out some intriguing facts.
“The Theiss family was murdered, two girls and their parents, by the son, Lucas Theiss. He was charged with the murders and sentenced to life. And Cato said, from what he read in the files, Lucas is still alive in a maximum security prison up somewhere near Chicago. So, all these years later, nearly forty, Lucas is still incarcerated.”
“Now I don’t know anything about any of that, I just know what I felt when we drove by that awful place during the storm...there were evil things flitting around looking to make mischief and cause the living grief. I’m sure of it. Abigail, everyone in the world, needs to stay clear of that wicked house. It’s better left by itself.”
“If you feel that strongly about it, you need to speak to Abigail and warn her again.” It was the best thing to do when Myrtle was obsessing about something. Hand it back over to her.
“I just might do that.” The old woman stood up, a resolute look on her face, as she grabbed her cane. “You say she’s there now? At the house? I’ll go right away and try talking to her again. I will!”
Frank recognized that look and, with a sigh, stood up, too. “Not in this heat wave you’re not hiking over there. Bad enough you trekked here at your age, cane and all. If you’re set on going this very minute, I’ll drive you.”
Myrtle reacted with surprise. “Really?”
“Really.” He pulled his truck’s keys out of his pocket. “I was thinking about going out there anyway to see how she was doing. Taking her a can of cold soda and a snack. Take a look at the house myself and see how far gone it is these days.”
“Great. You get the soda and I’ll put some of these donuts in a baggie for her. I’ll also throw in one those candy bars I saw up in the cabinet. She likes them.”
Frank observed Myrtle also took a candy bar for herself, and with a grin directed at him, stuffed it into her own pocket. The pair exited the cabin.
WITHIN MINUTES THE truck pulled up in front of the Theiss house. It was late afternoon and the sun was already beginning its downward journey to sleep.
Studying the place in the softening light, Frank could understand why Abby was captivated by it. Why she wanted to paint it. There was an unearthly quality to the whole scene. Like a picture postcard gone bad. It was scary and striking all at once. He knew that when she was finished rendering the house and grounds, each painting would be hauntingly stunning, regardless of what condition the original was in. She’d wave her paint brush and add her Abby magic to it. She always did.
“I don’t see her anywhere. Don’t see anyone. She’s not here.” Frank got out of the truck and strolled part way around the building while Myrtle waited in the passenger’s seat. Appearing fearful of the place, she refused to exit the vehicle. She said she’d wait for him there. He didn’t blame her. He could see her watching him through the windshield, a frown on her lips; she gestured at him to hurry up. Return to the truck. He ignored her and kept walking around the property; his eyes taking in everything.
He bent down to pick up a pencil from the ground. Probably one of Abigail’s she’d dropped, left behind. It meant she’d been here and gone.
It was years since he’d driven by the house, much less stopped to take the time to mosey around. Still, as he explored, he immediately felt its wrongness. Not only was the structure a disintegrating hunk of wood, plaster and smashed windows, and the whole thing on the verge of collapsing, the very air around it hummed with hidden rustlings. Unnatural whispers.
He walked up to the well, nestled in the weeds and spiky grass, and experienced a shiver as he peered into its inky depths. The well had been covered in boards at one time but most were missing and the rest were splintered and brown with rot. Something splashed deep inside the wet blackness and for a heartbeat he thought he spied two glowing orbs peering back up at him. He blinked and they were gone.
Squinting his eyes, he stared harder between the wooden boards into the water. Had there been, was there, something hiding down there? He kept looking but nothing else moved or splashed. The well gave him the creeps, though.
Once, when he’d been a kid, there’d been this story on the nightly news about a boy who’d fallen down an old well. He’d been lost down there for days until someone, luckily, had walked by and heard his pitiful cries. They’d saved him just in time, another day or so and he wouldn’t have made it out alive. Frank could still see the little boy as they’d pulled him from the dirty water. Crying, his emaciated body had been covered in filth and his eyes full of terrified, but relieved, tears at being rescued. So now whenever Frank saw an abandoned well, he thought of that poor child, what he must have endured in the days he’d been lost down in the well, and how lucky he’d been to have been saved.
Turning away from the well, uneasy, he made his way toward the vehicle, and his eye caught something slinking along the side of the house before it vanished around the back. A blur of crimson that stuck out against the emerald trees and shouldn’t normally have been there. The whispers grew louder.
Frank thought of running after the red blur, to see what it was, but just as quickly decided not to. The structure before him and its grounds gave him pause. There was high grass, jagged rocks, piles of wood, and shards of glass jabbed into the earth everywhere to impede him. Most likely snakes were hiding in the weeds, too. Snakes were not creatures he cared much for. Twilight shadows were slipping the house into the grayness of coming night, making things hard to see, so he would be wise to leave the place and its natural traps. He returned to the truck.
“She’s been here and gone already, I see.” Myrtle smirked, as Frank slid into the driver’s seat. “Could be she got smart. Could be she decided it wasn’t worth staying here too long.”
“Well, it is getting late and she did leave the house very early, for her anyway, this morning. One can only roast out in the hot sun for so many hours.” Frank didn’t say anything about what he thought he’d glimpsed in the hole or about the crimson bl
ur he’d spotted flitting around the house. Myrtle would only pester him to death and he didn’t want to talk about it anyway. The truck’s engine roared into life.
“Since she wasn’t home when we left the house,” Frank said, “and there is only one way here and to the cabin, she must have taken a side trip somewhere.”
“Most likely to town, I reckon, to have a visit and a chat with Claudia. I do recall telling her the book lady was the one to speak to if she wanted more information on the Theiss place, the family and the crime. Claudia knows things or she’ll know someone who will know things about that house and the family that once lived and died there.”
“I’m going into town then. Want to come along, old woman?”
“Sure,” she replied. “I could stand with a field trip. That way I can talk some sense into that wife of yours about this creepy house. Make her stay away from it.”
“Good,” Frank muttered, “luck.” Before he steered the truck away from the house, he pulled out his cell phone and keyed in Abigail’s speed number.
She answered after the second ring.
“Where are you?” he asked, putting her on speaker so Myrtle could hear the conversation, too.
“At the moment I am walking away from the IGA where I picked up a couple things we needed. Before that I was at the newspaper. I had to see Samantha about something. Earlier I was at The Fabric Store, which I found was closed, and before that I was visiting with Claudia at the book store. Now I’m heading towards the car.”
Suddenly Myrtle piped up, “Go to Stella’s, Abigail. We’ll meet you there. I need pie.”
“You have Myrtle with you, huh?”
“What’s new? She came by the cabin and wanted to go on a field trip.”
“What?” Abigail’s voice sounded confused.
“I’ll tell you about it when we see you, honey.” Frank laughed. “Sure, meet us at Stella’s. I could use something to eat.”
“Me, too,” Myrtle butted in again.
“Meet you there then. I could use some coffee and a snack myself.”
Frank clicked the connection off, and returned the phone to his pocket. He aimed the truck for town. He was glad to be leaving the unnerving Theiss house behind him. He took one last glimpse of the house in his rearview mirror. It was as if the place was blanketed by a murky filter, though the sun was still a pale circle in the sky. Then Frank caught what he thought was something resembling a human shape standing on the front porch, watching him drive away. A man? A woman? Then the shadow was gone. Had he seen anything at all or was it just a trick of the fading light? He didn’t know, but he was glad to be going in the opposite direction. That house made him uneasy.
STELLA’S DINER WAS uncommonly packed for pre-supper time on a weekday afternoon. Frank supposed everyone in the restaurant must just be extra hungry so the rush had begun early. Frank and Myrtle made their way through the chattering humanity to the rear table they liked to sit at. A table out of the crowd’s traffic.
“Why, hello there Glinda. Fancy finding you here.” With a smile, Frank greeted Myrtle’s psychic great niece who was sitting with Abigail at the table. By the serious expression on the young woman’s face he supposed she was there for a purpose. Glinda usually had a good reason for everything she did.
Myrtle plopped down next to her niece and gestured to Stella to come over to get their orders.
Sliding into the empty chair beside Abby, Frank leaned down and kissed her cheek. He hoped she wouldn’t inquire about the Bracco dossier or what he’d been doing that morning in his office. It was better if Abby didn’t know what he’d been up to. So he avoided her gaze at first, seemingly absorbed in what the psychic had to say.
“Hi Frank.” Glinda mirrored his smile and answered his question before he asked. “When I saw Abigail leaving the IGA, bags in hand, and heading for her car, I caught up to her and requested she’d come in here for a cup of coffee so I could speak to her. The cards showed me something this morning and I wanted to discuss it with her.”
Oh, oh. That couldn’t be good. “Something the cards showed you?” Frank murmured, glancing sideways at Abigail.
Abigail cocked her head at him, a trace of confusion in her expression. “Glinda hadn’t had time to tell me what she wanted to tell me before you and Myrtle rolled in. Now she can tell it to all three of us at the same time.”
Abigail’s attention switched to Glinda. “So, what did the cards show you?”
“A conundrum of a sort,” Glinda responded hesitantly, “and one I hope you can help me unravel.” Casually brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek, her vivid colored green eyes reflected concern.
In Frank’s opinion Glinda’s appearance hadn’t changed much since he’d first met her years before. She still wore her long silver hair loose around her shoulders or in a thick braid down her back, still wore her long flowing dresses in pastel shades, donned enough tasteful jewelry to please a gypsy, but in other more subtle ways she had changed. Since she’d been claimed as Myrtle’s kin, inherited and lovingly remodeled Myrtle’s late sister Evelyn’s house, had settled comfortably into the Spookie family, she’d adopted a contented peace of spirit that made her even more beautiful.
That and something more. In the end, it was love that had transformed her. Love of her new family and friends, and love of a good man. His son Kyle. Frank, as everyone else, was hoping for a wedding sooner than later; possibly before the summer was over. He’d never seen his son happier than when he was with Glinda. And the cherry on top was that if the two lovebirds married then Kyle would move into Glinda’s house, take over Doc Andy’s practice and remain in Spookie. Something Frank had been hoping for since his son had begun medical school so many years before. To have Kyle close by was Frank’s greatest wish. Glinda could make that happen because everyone knew she wouldn’t leave Spookie, Myrtle, and the house they both loved so much. So if his son married Glinda all of them would be living in Spookie. He couldn’t have planned it any better if he’d tried.
Stella stopped at their table to take Myrtle and Frank’s pie and coffee orders. But Myrtle didn’t take her eyes off of Abigail and Glinda, waiting for their conversation to continue.
“I fear the cards have given me some sort of warning for you, Abigail,” Glinda confessed after Stella had gone. “Though I’m a little confused as to what they were trying to warn me about. Since I read your tarot in the early morning and the cards seemed to show an urgency at the time I read them...where were you this morning?”
Surprised, Abigail replied, “I was out at this abandoned house on Suncrest beginning a series of sketches of the place that I want to develop into paintings.”
“Which house is that?” Glinda wanted to know.
“It’s that rumored-to-be-haunted Theiss house at 707 Suncrest,” Myrtle interjected snidely. “When Abigail first asked me about it–we saw it in the storm the other day–I couldn’t recollect much, but since then some of its history has come back to me. A bunch of terrible murders were committed there years ago and...as I said, the place has ghosts for sure. People who are murdered often become angry ghosts. Since they were dragged from life against their will, their remnants are often confused, sometimes infuriated.
“And I told Abigail to stay away from it. It’s dangerous...it’s a wreck...and, as I said, it’s haunted. She should find another empty house to paint. There’s plenty of them around Spookie. There is one on Cherry Street, one behind the IGA, and two on Meeker Road. They’re all over the place. Pick another one to paint.” Myrtle’s face was flushed, her eyes narrowed.
Glinda was regarding Abigail with a strange look on her face. “Ah, that’s probably what the cards were trying to tell me. The house is what they were warning me about. Warning me for you. I think somehow there is danger there.”
“Yeah,” Myrtle interjected, “danger from bad spirits roaming around.”
Frank could tell his wife was unruffled by what the psychic had said when she retorte
d, “I appreciate the warning, Glinda, but the house seems harmless to me. Just another empty shell.
“And Myrtle, I don’t believe if there are any bad spirits roaming the Theiss place that they will bother with me. Why would they? I haven’t done anything to any of them. I only want to paint the place. It is a fascinating house. Such character. I can’t stop now.”
“The tarot spread hinted at more of a threat than only unhappy manifestations, Abigail. There was something else. It wasn’t perfectly clear but I’ll spread the cards again tonight and see if they divulge more. Until then, if you must go out there and paint...just be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
Glinda nodded her head in acceptance, as if she’d done all she could do. She never pushed her divinations on anyone, especially if they hadn’t been asked for. She wasn’t that kind of psychic.
Myrtle, though, wouldn’t let the matter go. “But Abigail, you have to listen to Glinda. She knows what she’s talking about. Me, too. You need to stay away from that evil house. I really have this bad feeling about it.”
Abigail flashed Myrtle a cynical smile. “You have a lot of bad feelings about a lot of things, old woman. I can’t live my life afraid of dead people or haunted houses.”
“Okay, you two ghostbusters,” Frank announced to Glinda and Myrtle, “enough. Abigail is going to paint the Theiss house. She will be careful. So don’t worry.
“Now...what else is going on with the two of you? Any juicy gossip or anything else you want to chat about? I can use more fodder for my books.” Yet inside, the uneasiness he’d felt since what he’d seen at the Theiss house lingered. He should have told them about the glowing orbs in the bottom of the well, the strange shape racing around the side of the house or the silhouette standing on the porch. Something kept him quiet. It would make him sound as eccentric as Myrtle with her ghosts. No doubt what he’d seen and felt had been his overactive creative mind. He wasn’t a superstitious man but that house had given him the willies. It was easy to understand how being there might bring out strange thoughts and images. The abandoned house reminded him of every haunted house movie he’d ever seen. Don’t go in that creepy looking house...or you’ll be sorry. Boo!
All Those Who Came Before Page 8
