Case One ~ The Deceit (Trudy Hicks Ghost Hunter Book 1)

by Lori Zaremba

  “So, you want to play games?” Trudy scurried back toward the dining room and felt like she walked into a brick wall of energy. Hearing a ball bouncing, she stepped closer to where she thought the sound originated.

  “Ouch!”

  “Leslie? What now?”

  “Someone pulled my hair.”

  Trudy turned. “What? Are you okay?”

  “Yep, I definitely felt a tug on my hair.” Leslie spun around as if checking if her hair could have caught on anything. “This is unbelievable. Am I the only one who is surprised by all this?”

  “Surprised is not the word I would use. Scared shitless is more like it.” Patrick’s hand shook as he adjusted the camera strap then almost dropped the camera when they heard a door slam. “Whoa! What was that?”

  “Let’s go!” Trudy ran toward the sound. “Patrick, which way did that come from?”

  “It sounded like it was the door to the basement.” He pointed his camera light in that direction.

  Trudy’s feet slowed, and she immediately felt the weight of dread, knowing she would have to go down into the basement. She was hoping to put it off. However, Trudy knew she had to follow the evidence, and the evidence was leading them down into Gehenna, as her grandma used to say. Abruptly, the front door flew open behind them, making them all screech. Jason stood in the shadows for a moment before entering.

  “Jason? What’s wrong?”

  He looked toward the basement door, his eyes wide. “Someone just went down there.”

  “Yeah, we know. We heard the door slam too.” Trudy whisked away a bead of sweat that dripped down her temple, noticing the hot air that was blowing from the furnace vent nearby.

  “No, you don’t understand. I watched a man on the camera appear from out of thin air, open and slam that door behind him.”

  “What?” Leslie’s face was as white as a sheet.

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s go see.” Trudy was already heading toward the door in question.

  “No way, not me.” Leslie spun around, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Trudy, I can’t,” she whispered before turning and running down the hall and out the front door.

  “Patrick, are you coming?” Trudy sighed.

  “I’m ready whenever you are.” Patrick lifted his camera into position.

  “I’m coming with you.” Jason picked up the flashlight Leslie had abandoned on the floor.

  “I’m glad you’re finally seeing the light, Mr. Young.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Ms. Hicks.” Jason showed her a .45 Magnum handgun tucked into his waistband. “I’m not convinced it was a ghost that headed to the basement.”

  The radio on Trudy’s tool belt crackled, and she heard Dana warning them to be careful.

  “Don’t shoot your pecker off.” Trudy met Jason’s eyes as she passed him, heading once again to the cellar door. She placed her hand carefully on the doorknob, and he put his hand on hers. She knew he needed to go first, and she didn’t argue. He opened the door slowly and pointed his flashlight down the stairs.

  “All clear.” He went down the first couple of steps. Trudy followed one step behind while signaling for Patrick to pull in close so his camera light would illuminate the passage. They made their way to the bottom. The EMF detector on Trudy’s belt was going haywire, flashing and beeping as it registered radical fluctuation in the magnetic field around them.

  “Hello,” she called. “Who’s here with us?”

  They heard shuffling from the far corner. Jason drew his weapon and pointed his flashlight in that direction. Trudy scanned the area with her thermal imaging camera. They heard movement again, followed by a low moan. Jason turned to her with an expression of pure disbelief and mouthed, “What was that?”

  She showed him the thermal camera that indicated there were no other humans in the basement and gestured to put his gun away.

  Trudy stepped lightly toward the sound. The hair on the back of her neck stood up in warning as the screen on her camera went white. The next thing she knew, she was being shoved hard back into Jason. He was entirely taken by surprise and stumbled awkwardly into Patrick.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Jason steadied her.

  “Someone shoved me.” She turned around and was shoved violently once again. This time she tripped over the uneven floor and fell to the ground. “What the hell?”

  “Trudy!” Jason reached for her in the dark and helped her up. He was angry. “Okay, tough guy, pushing around a woman.” He stepped in front of Trudy, shielding her with his body. “Come on, try that on me, and let’s see how tough you are.”

  There was nothing. They stood in complete silence…and heard nothing.

  “I think it’s gone,” Trudy said a few moments later, feeling the air lighten.

  “Good. Can we get out of here, please?” Patrick’s feet were already on the steps as he mumbled, “I think I shit myself.”

  Jason nudged her up the steps, keeping his flashlight on the area where they had the confrontation. Once they got back upstairs and shut the door, Trudy nearly collapsed onto the bottom step of the grand staircase. Jason all but fell next to her.

  “I have never in my wildest anything…imagined anything…er…something like…Goddamn! What the hell am I trying to say? What was that?” Jason finally got out as he looked wildly at Trudy.

  Trudy couldn’t help herself or the burst of hysterical laughter that consumed her. She was out of control. Finally, after several minutes, she wiped her eyes and was able to breathe.

  “I’m glad you can find humor in all this.” Jason helped her to her feet.

  “That was some crazy stuff,” she said softly. Realizing he was holding her in a warm embrace, she relaxed, resting her forehead on his shoulder. “I should go check on Leslie and Patrick.” She pulled away reluctantly. “Thanks.”

  He brushed a lock of her hair off her face. “What are you thanking me for?”

  “I don’t know, going down in the basement with us and worrying about me. I’m not used to it.” Her words slipped out, but thankfully he didn’t appear to read too much into it.

  He ran a shaky hand through his hair. “You are one brave soul. I was scared out of my mind down there.”

  “It was pretty intense…especially for a rookie like you.” Grabbing his hand that still grasped her forearm, she pulled him with her as she walked out the door to search out Leslie and Patrick. They weren’t out front, so she quickly led Jason around the house to the side porch and could smell the marijuana before she found Leslie and Patrick passing a joint between them.

  “What are you two delinquents doing?” Trudy couldn’t disguise the amusement in her voice.

  “Fuck you.” Leslie offered the joint up to her.

  Trudy brushed it aside and sat down next to Leslie. “Are you all right?” She wrapped her arm around Leslie, holding her free hand.

  Leslie closed her eyes and shuddered a little. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” She took another hit of the joint before handing it to Patrick. Abruptly, she stood so she could pace and threw her hands in the air. “I mean, what am I supposed to say to that? No, I am not all right!” she shouted to the darkness. “Everything I thought I knew changed in there,” she said, pointing to the house. “I’m changed.” She glared at Trudy. “You didn’t prepare me,” she said, jabbing a finger into Trudy’s shoulder.

  “What?” Trudy stood. “How could I prepare you for that when I wasn’t prepared for that?”

  “Exactly!” She bristled and looked Trudy dead in the eye. “You’re in over your head, Trudy Hicks.” Leslie took a deep breath. “You can’t fix that,” she said, once again pointing toward the house.

  “Maybe not, but I can get to the truth as to why these souls are still lingering here.” Trudy remained calm while Leslie worked herself into a tizzy.

  “Do you want to know why they’re here?” Leslie spun toward her, fully agitated now. “I can tell you why they’re still here. Because they are pissed! How
do I know they’re pissed?” she asked the night air, her voice a few decibels below a scream.

  The silence was deafening as they all waited for Leslie to finish.

  “They’re pissed because happy ghosts wouldn’t go around slamming doors or pulling hair, and they certainly wouldn’t be knocking people to the ground. That’s how I know they’re pissed. Goddamn it!” She rubbed her forehead. “I’m done for the night, and I’m sleeping in the van.” She brushed past Jason to head across the lawn.

  “Leslie, wait.” Trudy leaped forward.

  “Let her go. She’s going to have to do a lot of soul-searching over what she witnessed tonight,” Jason said, pulling Trudy back.

  Sighing, Trudy shook her head as Leslie climbed into the van and slammed the door.

  The night air hung heavy with distress. Not even a sound from nature dared break through the tension.

  “I’ve got to get back in there. Patrick? Are you still in?” She eyed him warily.

  “Right behind you, boss.” He took a last drag on the joint and stubbed it out. She reached over to kiss him on the cheek and give a quick hug.

  “Let’s go get Tyler and Jasmine, and together we can explore the second floor.”

  “Can’t wait.” Trudy noticed Patrick’s hand tremble slightly when he picked up the camera.

  Jason unfolded himself from the railing on which he was leaning. “I have to get back to my monitors. I’ll keep an eye on you,” he said, walking toward the garage. “Yell if you need me.” He gave her a long look before striding away.

  The duo headed back in the house and toward the kitchen to grab a cup of coffee on their way to find Tyler. Trudy checked her watch, noting that it was almost one in the morning. They found Tyler and Dana discussing some of the evidence that was caught on the cameras while having more pizza.

  Tyler looked up with anticipation written all over his face. “Is it my turn?” He looked past Trudy and Patrick. “Where’s Leslie?”

  “Leslie is done for the night.”

  Trudy met Dana’s eyes and tried to read her expression.

  “Leslie will be fine,” Dana said in a soft voice, giving Trudy the answer she was seeking, and turned to Tyler. “Put Jasmine on her leash.”

  “Dana, are you okay with watching the cameras alone?” Trudy asked while replacing batteries in her EMF detector.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  Trudy, Tyler, and Jasmine headed up the stairs to the second floor with Patrick right behind them. They explored each room, but other than hearing what sounded like someone tap dancing and humming, the rest of the night was uneventful.

  Tyler thought he saw a girl standing on the steps up to the third floor once when they heard the humming, but she must have made a quick exit as they couldn’t find her anywhere.

  “I could have sworn she was right there.” He pointed at the fourth step up.

  “She’ll be back when she’s ready.” Trudy smiled at his excitement.

  “Wait, did I actually just see a ghost?” Tyler laughed.

  When Dana confirmed that she had seen the young maid that fit the description of his spirit lingering in the hallway earlier, Tyler was overjoyed. Dana and Trudy smiled at each other over his exuberance. Exhausted, they switched off the monitors and called it a night.

  The sun was rising when Trudy finally crawled wearily into the big, soft bed. She couldn’t give the investigation another thought, as she was sound asleep before her head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 6

  Trudy searched the house in an effort to find Dana. With the rest of her team still snug in their beds, Trudy made her way downstairs to get an early start. She noticed the door to Dana’s room ajar, and when she peeked inside, she saw the empty, neatly made bed. Listening closely, she heard two women conversing over the murmur of a TV coming from a small study on the east wing of the second floor. Trudy quietly pushed open the door and paused when she saw Dana sitting on a small couch holding a cup of tea. Dana’s attention was on something or someone in the corner of the room by the floor to ceiling windows.

  Trudy gasped as a shadowy figure appeared, and she rubbed her hands over her eyes to make sure she was seeing right before tiptoeing behind a bookshelf near where the apparition moved back and forth.

  “Can I help you?” Dana called out to the pacing figure.

  The spirit of a petite woman stopped in her tracks. “You can see me?” she asked in a clear voice with a lovely accent. Trudy observed that she might be French Creole because of her attire as well as her beautiful dusky complexion.

  Placing her teacup on a little side table, Dana stood slowly. “Yes, I can see you. My name is Dana McCoy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Dark, flashing eyes full of wonder, her face lit with a smile. “I am Constance Lavolier Vilemont. I manage this home, and I am responsible for my charges, Mrs. Vanessa Holland-Wilcox and her son Chase Holland.” She gave a deep curtsy. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

  Trudy could see from her vantage point that the specter was starting to fade as her energy was dissipating.

  “Mrs. Vilemont, what has you pacing so?” Dana questioned, stepping closer to her.

  “Please call me Connie as Vanessa does. I am upset at that man.” Frazzled, she continued with a deep sigh. “And she forgot her cloche.” She looked down at the felt hat she twisted in her nervous palms. “I have told her a thousand times to make sure she wears a hat when she travels across town. That damn red head of hers attracts trouble wherever she goes.” With that, she thrust the hat in Dana’s hand and disappeared. “Connie?” Dana asked, but the spirit was gone.

  Trudy rushed over to where Dana stood with the little gray hat in her hands. “Dana, that was amazing. I could see her.”

  Dana studied Trudy somberly. “She wanted you to see her.” Stepping closer, Dana whispered, “Connie knows you’re here to help.”

  The duo moved to the window where Dana chose one of the wing chairs to settle in and handed the hat to Trudy, who studied it in the brilliant morning light. The cloche was the rage among the flappers in the 1920s. It cupped the head, and its brim was worn low, almost covering the eyes. As a result, it forced one to toss their head back and look down the nose, making the wearer appear snobbish.

  Vanessa’s was a gray felt. It was a little rumpled, but Trudy could see the quality in the stitching and the beadwork on the crown. She had a hunch this hat would provide some answers

  “Who do you think Connie was referring to when she said she was upset at that man?” Trudy asked, offering the hat back to Dana.

  “I’m not sure,” Dana replied, lifting the cloche and testing the fabric against her cheek before meeting Trudy’s eyes. “But I plan to find out.” Trudy could feel a change in the atmosphere and ran her hands over the goose bumps that formed on her arms. Surprised, she stepped to the center of the space and noticed her breath crystallizing in the air. Dana took a deep, loud breath while Trudy found the remote to switch off the television and observed as the psychic prepared herself for a journey into the past. Dana closed her eyes as she pulled the cloche over her midnight black curls. She nodded to Trudy that it was time, and without another word, Trudy slipped quietly from the room.

  Chapter 7

  Vanessa, February 1927

  Vanessa Holland Wilcox closed the rear door to the Sacred Heart Orphanage where she donated her time reading and teaching music to the many children who resided there.

  A nervous giggle escaped the hand covering her smile. She had just been reprimanded by the headmistress, Sister Mary Grace, for the selection of music she taught that day. Mozart, Schubert, and the like were all acceptable composers to teach the orphaned children of the Sacred Heart. Never again would Vanessa bring such debauchery like the music she brought today.

  The song in question was the very popular Piron tune, “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate.” She tried to explain to the headmistress that the song was about dancing and not sexual, but Sister Mar
y Grace presumed those things were one and the same.

  Vanessa thought it was a shame because the kids were having such a jolly good time dancing and learning how to shimmy. The look on the old nun’s face was priceless when she had entered the music room and seen the children involved in what she called devilment.

  Vanessa gave a low whistle, and from around the corner came a whine in reply. Within seconds, a very handsome tan and black shepherd appeared and came to sit at attention at her feet. Soft brown eyes lively with keen intelligence awaited her next command. She bent down and planted a kiss on the black snout warmed by the morning sun.

  “Come on, Caesar. It has been a rough morning. Let’s head home.”

  Smiling, she followed Caesar along the even cobblestones of Hart Street as a gentle breeze lifted her hair. She raised her hand to run her fingers through the neat bob she recently acquired. Gone was the tedious weight of thick, heavy hair that had grown below her waist. Hours spent washing, drying, and styling was now a thing of the past. She enjoyed the blessed freedom.

  Vanessa was twenty-four and had pretty much everything she needed. She was widowed, wealthy, and extremely independent. Her best friend was a German shepherd, a gift from Carlson in the early stages of her pregnancy. He thought every child should have a faithful companion, and they had Caesar trained for that purpose. The dog took his job very seriously, watching over her and the love of both of their lives, her three-year-old son Chase.

  She grinned as she thought about how his sweet, chubby arms would wrap around her neck as soon as she walked in through the door. His shock of auburn curls would be tussled from his nap and his green-gray eyes still bleary with sleep. He would want to play catch and share freshly baked oatmeal cookies from Connie’s kitchen with Caesar.

  She sighed. Chase was her pride and joy and also her most significant accomplishment.