Haunted House Tales

by Riley Amitrani

  “How about you take me back through the events of the last day and night of Josh’s death, May 16…”

  Kylie shrugged and laid out as many details as she could recall from that day and horrible night. She began with Josh’s not coming home from work and how she had gone to the shop to see what had happened to make him late.

  “You tried calling first?” he asked.

  “Naturally…” Kylie replied, figuring this was again something he already knew but was just looking to see if she was a liar as well as an alleged murderess. “Both Josh’s cell and the landline for the shop as well.”

  She then described in detail about the unexplained sounds in the shop that she went to identify, whereupon she found Josh, already dead in a chair on the upper floor. How she had feared for her life once there, after hearing voices, and had leaped through the window to save herself, whereupon she broke her leg.

  “Voices?” he asked.

  Kylie realized she had probably said too much at this point, but now she was stuck and would have to try and explain this so she was not viewed as some sort of schizophrenic who heard voices not there and saw things no one else did. However, what she did realize at the same time was that the truth was going to sound just as insane. With no other options, she plunged ahead with her story of the ghost of Larry Evans being the actual murderer. The detective’s writing came to a cold stop as she went on, his eyebrows raised in obvious skepticism as he looked her straight in the eyes. The longer Kylie talked the more agitated she realized she was becoming, which was not helping her case. Not having insisted that she have a lawyer present from the beginning had been a huge tactical error. And now she saw she was most likely to be viewed as trying to make up some wild tale to deny her responsibility for Josh’s murder.

  “Excuse me, Miss…did you say the ghost of Larry Evans killed Josh Jackson?”

  Kylie felt her ears redden and her face flush, knowing how ridiculous this must have sounded. She knew it was the truth, but still…

  “You familiar with the story of Larry Evans of Yellow Sulfur, Detective?”

  “I know the folklore they keep alive up there for the tourists if that’s what you mean…”

  Kylie knew better than to reply to that.

  “Let me tell you what we have, Miss White. From numerous people in Yellow Sulfur, we know you and the late Mr. Jackson had arrived in town for the summer. Lots of people saw you together, so we know of your relationship with him. From talking to your landlady, Edna Rogers, we know you both had been looking for work, but according to her, it had been a disappointing search for you. Not so for Mr. Jackson, though.”

  “Look, Detective…. just because….”

  The detective held up his hand like a traffic cop cutting her off.

  “Let me finish. Then I’d be happy to hear your side of this whole thing, Miss White. On the day of Mr. Jackson’s murder, he had, according to you, gone to the old Virginia Meat Emporium to begin an apprenticeship with Larry Evans. Even though Mr. Evans has been dead for over thirty years. Is that correct?’

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How did that work, Miss White? Getting a job offer from a man who has been dead for over three decades?”

  Kylie exhaled in exasperation, annoyed at his sarcasm. She slowly explained how they had seen the posting in the window of the shop, and how Josh had phoned up Mr. Evans to negotiate the offer.

  “So, you never spoke directly to Mr. Evans?”

  “I did not. I just heard Josh talking to him on the phone.”

  “I see. So, when Mr. Jackson was late returning home that day, you went to the shop to find him?”

  Kylie nodded silently.

  “And according to you, you found his dead body on the upper level, still bleeding from a fresh wound to his neck that ended up being fatal?”

  Again, Kylie nodded.

  “And now, you would like us to believe this ghost…the ghost of Larry Evans…spoke to you in a threatening manner, causing you to leap through a window to escape, whereupon you broke your leg?”

  Seeing no other options at the moment, Kylie charged ahead, sticking to her story.

  “Look, detective, I know how this sounds, but like it or not that is what happened.”

  “We have the murder weapon, Miss White. A blood-encrusted butcher’s knife. We have bloody footprints all through the room where the murder appears to have happened. Footprints that match the tread on your tennis shoes exactly. And we have numerous samples of your prints on doorknobs, doors, and other locations around the shop. Until you came along, Miss White, this place has been shuttered tight. Everyone in Yellow Sulfur assures us that it has not been entered or used for anything other than a morbid tourist attraction for over thirty years. The only sign of any activity there seems to belong to you.”

  Kylie said nothing at first. It was obvious to her where this was heading. If she had not experienced what she had, including the conversation with the specter that had come to her afterword, begging for help against the deeply disturbed Evans, she supposed she would have drawn the same conclusions as well. Before that night, she was as much of a disbeliever in anything paranormal as anyone else.

  “I’m sorry, Miss White, but it seems all the evidence and circumstances leave us no other conclusion than the fact that for some reason you murdered Mr. Jackson and are now trying to explain it away by saying a ‘ghost’ was the killer. I’ll give you a few minutes alone to reconsider your story. If you would like to change your statement, I’d be happy to listen. In any case, consider yourself under arrest for the murder of Joshua Jackson. You might want to consider getting a good attorney…”

  Kylie felt like her world was spinning out of control, and sure that if she had not been lying down, that she would have fallen down. She looked up at the detective and nodded.

  “I guess we are on the same page there, Detective Anderson. I think retaining a lawyer is an excellent idea…”

  Paging Perry Mason…

  Yellow Sulfur, Virginia

  August 5, 2005, 10 AM

  Kylie was transferred to a holding facility once her doctor pronounced her fit to travel. Through the help of her family and some friends on campus at Virginia Tech, she acquired the services of an excellent trial lawyer. They all agreed that there was no way that Kylie could have murdered Josh, especially in the brutal manner in which it had been done. After much research, her attorney let her know that the police actually did not have much of a case against her after all. The interview at the hospital had been a pathetic ploy to get her to confess to the murder, based on the scant evidence they did have, in his professional opinion. They had no motive, and most of the so-called evidence was merely circumstantial.

  Yes, they could prove she had been in the old shop, but she had never denied that. It was no surprise, the lawyer said, that her prints were found around the shop…she had been searching for Josh after all. And as for the bloody footprints, that was never in denial either…Kylie had always said she had run through the pools of Josh’s blood on her way to escape the room. Even the murder weapon was free of her prints. In fact, the only prints they could lift from the knife were old and worn, and they never came up with a match to her or anyone else in any criminal database anywhere.

  “So where does that leave us, Mr. Abrams?” Kylie asked.

  “I think based on all of this, I will have no trouble planting a serious level of doubt in the minds of the jurors as to your innocence. We will hit them with the deep love you had for Josh, your completely clean record up til now, and mostly how you have no connection to the murder weapon and are only being targeted by the police because they have no other suspects and the DA likes to clear everything off his plate ASAP. This is well known among the residents in the county.”

  “That sounds promising…”

  “I think so too, Kylie. I just need one more thing from you to lock this up for us.”

  “Yes?”

  “It is two-fold. Number one, perhaps consi
der recanting your story about a ghost being responsible. It will not fly with a jury, and it makes you look crazy on top of it all. Maybe frame it saying you were just delirious and terrified once you found Josh. That it was just a result of stress and trauma…that you have no idea where that came from. That sound reasonable?”

  Kylie mulled it over and realized he was right. With all the other paltry evidence that the prosecutor possessed, the truth of what had happened would only hurt her chances.

  “Sure…no problem…what is the other thing?”

  “The other is something I have never suggested to a client, but I think if I present it to the assistant DA, it may sway them to just drop the whole thing.”

  “From the way you put it, this is sounding like it is not exactly legal…”

  Abrams grinned.

  “Smart girl. What I would like to do, but only with your approval, is go to the DA and lay out an overview of our position. All that I have explained to you today. To bolster the strength of this tactic, I would suggest you did get a glimpse of a man fleeing the scene of the crime that night. This would give the police a face-saving out. As well, I know from experience that this DA never likes to take a case to trial unless he is sure he can win. Too damaging to his political aspirations.”

  “Pretty risky isn’t it?”

  “It is. And I would never ask you to lie on the stand if it came to that. I am pretty sure if I just put the suggestion of such a thing in their heads, that they will combine it with what a weak case they have and just back off.”

  “And if this doesn’t work?”

  “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it, Kylie. I’ve been at this for a long time as you know. I know the DA and his assistant well. How they think. What their individual agendas are, professionally and politically. Trust me on this.”

  “OK, Mr. Abrams…let’s move ahead with that.”

  ……..

  Kylie had reluctantly agreed to her attorney’s tactic to avoid a jury trial. She was sure he would not have suggested the plan if he had not been very confident in its’ chances of succeeding. Kylie was not naïve enough to not recognize that Mr. Abrams likely had an agenda and a reputation to protect as well. But in the back of her mind, she had agreed to this so she could gain her freedom in order to return to the scene of Josh’s murder to try and put a stop to the cycle of terror that Larry Evans held over his little fiefdom. She had had a lot of time while locked up to consider what had been asked of her by her visitor that night. Even if Josh had not been another victim, she most likely would have tried to do what she could to help…but after Josh’s murder, she felt she had no choice. There was no way she could let Josh’s spirit be held hostage in that place…

  As predicted, the DA’s office folded under the pressure from Abrams. He knew of the upcoming gubernatorial election in Virginia, and that the DA was a prime candidate, far and away the leading candidate. The last thing the DA would want at this point was for a costly and half-baked prosecution to tarnish his campaign. Especially one being touted by him as to what Virginia needed: a governor tough on crime who has a nearly perfect record of prosecuting violent crime. It took a few weeks, but when Abrams came to see Kylie for the last time while she was still locked up, Kylie knew immediately from his expression that it had worked.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr. Abrams…”

  “All in a day’s work, Kylie…want my advice now, though?”

  “Sure…”

  “Once you are released, leave Yellow Sulfur. Maybe even Virginia as well. After what you went through, I think nothing good can come to you by hanging around. Find another school and finish your studies…bur far away from here. In time, the memories of Josh’s murder will fade. They will never go away completely…I know that. But getting far away from it all may help you heal more quickly. OK?”

  “As people in your profession say, Mr. Abrams, I will take it under advisement…”

  Abrams shook his head and grinned. It was all he could do: offer his sincere advice. In her face, he could see she had no intentions of going anywhere. He was not sure exactly what had gone on that night in May when Josh Jackson had been killed, but he also knew Kylie would never leave until she had put things right…whatever that meant. He was sure no believer in spirits or ghosts, but he also knew that Kylie had not killed Josh, and she firmly was in the camp of those who believed in such things. He accepted the tight hug from his former client and looked at her briefly in the rear-view mirror of his car as he drove off.

  After clearing her name, Kylie dropped by Edna Rogers’ place to see if she was open to letting her rent out the apartment over the garage once again. The woman agreed, but in her eyes, Kylie sensed some hesitation. She was sure despite her acquittal that there would always be those in Yellow Sulfur who would think she had gotten away with murder. Edna Rogers obviously was caught somewhere in between the two positions, but also needed the money that the rent of the apartment would bring in. Kylie thanked her and retreated to the old digs where she and Josh had planned to spend the summer. After having withdrawn from Virginia Tech, she needed time unimpeded by the demands of school to try and banish Larry Evans from the old shop once and for all.

  For weeks, Kylie read all she could find on the subjects of the paranormal and hauntings and such. She might be a recent convert to the subject matter, but she was still highly ignorant on what all the minutia of it involved. Once she had a better handle on most of the nuances and background, she found herself convinced her optimal plan of attack would be an exorcism. Kylie had heard of exorcisms of individuals, but the idea of exorcising spirits from a dwelling was a new concept. More research led her to a variety of organizations and individuals that specialized in such undertakings. After many interviews and meetings and discussions, Kylie found a pair of paranormal experts that she felt were genuine…and it had been an ordeal to separate these two from the crowds of charlatans and pretenders.

  Who You Gonna Call?

  Yellow Sulfur, Virginia

  October 23, 2005, 7 PM

  Terry and Patricia Newhold were a married couple who had been in the ghost hunting and ghostbusting business for over a decade. They were as odd as people could possibly be, Kylie thought, but their results up and down the east coast were well-known and well-documented. Kylie supposed you could not really succeed in this type of thing and not be a little bit eccentric. Their own home was like being in a haunted place itself, and the vehicle they drove, an old refurbished hearse did not help. However, Kylie was not so concerned with these, as well as the other oddities and quirks that came along with the Newholds as long as they could get results. After giving them as much background as she could on the old butcher shop and the backstory on Larry Evans, Kylie let them work up a strategy. She was told to meet them in front of the shop just as the sun was setting on the twenty-third.

  Kylie sat on the stoop of the place as the sun fell behind the horizon, revealing a half-moon which cast a dim pall over the façade of the butchery. The sky was clear and there was no wind to speak of, all of which Kylie was grateful for based on how nasty the weather had been the last time she had been of the misfortune to be here after dark. In just a few minutes, the unmistakable black hearse pulled up and eased to the side of the road. Patricia Newhold exited from the passenger’s seat, clothed in a flowing black, shroud-like hooded outfit. One might have thought this was somehow connected to the task at hand that evening, but after having spent much time with the couple, Kylie knew this was just Patricia’s normal get up.

  Terry moved to the rear of the vehicle and removed a medium-sized leather valise. Nothing fancy or otherwise peculiar. It resembled what a lawyer or other businessman might tote along as part of his normal day…worn and brown with black handles that looked as if they might come free from the frayed leather where they were connected. He closed the rear door of the hearse quietly and fell in behind Patricia, walking determinedly up to where Kylie was seated.

  “All set?�
� Kylie asked.

  “We are….” Patricia replied as she slipped the billowy fabric from her head to reveal her face.

  Kylie led them inside after snapping off the flimsy lock the police had left behind once the shop had been cordoned off following Josh’s murder. The yellow police tape marked: “ONGOING POLICE INVESTIGATION DO NOT ENTER” fluttered from either side of the door jamb in a light breeze that had sprung up. From the valise, Terry removed several small lamps and set them about the lower level, firing each one up and the dingy, dark room was illuminated in a soft glow. Kylie stepped aside as Patricia came forward, a thick leather-bound volume in her hands. As she opened the voluminous tome, Terry moved about the doors and windows, sprinkling some sort of granulated substance. Once he was done, he nodded to his wife and she flipped through the book for a few pages and began to speak.

  Kylie was completely baffled as the woman spoke. It was part chant, part seemingly ritualistic, part even prayer-like…none of it in English or any other recognizable language…at least to Kylie. Patricia went through what felt like a standard routine and then went silent. She and Terry looked up and around as if waiting for a response. The shop was just as silent as when they had come in. Kylie followed their gazes, not knowing what she expected to see or hear, but just following their lead. Patricia leafed through about half a dozen more pages in her book and began the process over again but with new words this time. Before she had been talking for another minute, a deep creaking sound emanated from the floorboards above, moving slowly but with purpose across the hallway. After a few steps, a chilling and wicked cackling laughter began to accompany the sounds of movement above.

  Patricia looked over at Kylie. Kylie nodded subtly as her heart began to pound, her memory of that May night coming back to her in a flash. Patricia continued her litany. Just a few seconds elapsed and the entire structure of the old shop began to vibrate and ripple as if the ground was shaking the foundation itself. Terry looked up just in time to see some of the old crates and boxes that still inhabited the counters and shelves lift from their locations and take flight toward Patricia. He leaped with all the grace and speed and agility of a ballet dancer or athlete and gathered Patricia in his arms, pulling her to the floor. One oversized heavy crate flew just over their heads, smashing to kindling on the far wall.