Get Up and Ghost

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  “I’ve got a deputy questioning them now.”

  “Okay.”

  “Chantilly, go to Doc Bramblett. Have him take a look at you. I’ll come by and check on you in a bit and get an official statement.”

  I grumbled and moaned, not wanting to see the doctor but realizing my behavior bordered on childish and stubborn. Strange things had been happening ever since I fell, I had to admit that. I also had to admit, at least to myself, that it was entirely possible I’d jarred my brain in some way to cause those strange things to happen.

  Seeing shadows, hearing voices, and watching tails of wedding dress trains scoot across the floor attached to nothing wasn’t normal, so I had to have knocked my noggin up good.

  “Chantilly?” Jack caught my attention when he waved his hand in front of my face.

  “Yes?”

  “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry. I was thinking about something.”

  He pushed his eyebrows together and pursed his lips. “Are you okay? I can get the paramedic to take you to the hospital.”

  I shook my head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m fine. I can get to Doc’s on my own.”

  “Okay. I’ll come by in a bit, okay?”

  “Sure.” I strolled off still a bit dazed and confused. At the end of the restaurants driveway, I turned around and gazed at the building and there, in window of Bobby’s office, was Agnes Hamilton waving directly at me.

  Chapter Three

  DOC BRAMBLETT WAS OLD school when it came to medicine. His office took up the front half of his home, and he still made house calls. Half the town didn’t have health insurance, or couldn’t afford to pay him, but that didn’t matter to Doc. He’d gathered an impressive, if not unique, collection of valuables in lieu of payment, and was proud to show them off. The three deer heads hanging in his reception area were payment from the Jackson family. They’d offered two more, but Mrs. Doc, as she’d been nicknamed during my childhood, put a stop to that. She preferred fresh eggs, homemade bacon, chocolate chip cookies, and pies over dead animals.

  I understood where she was coming from. If I had my choice, I’d choose chocolate chip cookies over the intimidating stare of a dead animal’s eyes every day.

  Doc saw me right away, and gave me a serious what for for not coming to him the day I’d unintentionally skipped the bottom half of the stairs. “You could have internal bleeding or swelling dear. You got to take better care of yourself.”

  Ouch, a verbal switch to the heart, that’s what that was. “I don’t think it’s that serious.”

  He poked and prodded the bump. “Does it hurt?”

  “Only when you touch it.”

  He laughed. “Have you thrown up since you fell?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Eating okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did you lose consciousness? He sat in front of me and pressed into my temples. “Does that hurt?”

  I pulled away. “Ouch. And yes, Olivia said I was out for a few seconds, but I don’t recall. I think it probably jarred me and that’s it. I did pass out at Hamilton House a little bit ago, but I’m assuming that was situational, not because of my head.”

  “What happened at Hamilton House?”

  I told him about Bobby Pruitt and how I’d discovered him, got dizzy and passed out.

  “Oh, heavens, that’s awful. Who would do a thing like that?”

  “It was awful, and I have no idea. It was shocking to see him like that, which is why I think I passed out.”

  “Well, at least he’s with his momma now. Boy never was the same without her.”

  Bobby wasn’t the nicest guy in town, and if that had a part in where his soul rested, I worried for the guy.

  He pulled my upper eyelids up and flashed his little light into my eyes. “Most people that lose consciousness don’t realize it’s happened. I’m inclined to trust Olivia on this.” He checked my ears. “Any ringing or buzzing?”

  “Whispers and a bit of laughing, but that’s about it.”

  He pushed his rolling chair directly in front of me. “Excuse me?”

  My shoulders slumped. “And I’ve seen a few strange things, too.”

  He rolled his chair back and opened the manila folder on his small cart. “You’re hearing whispers and laughing? Do you feel paranoid? Like people are talking about you?”

  I laughed. “No, not like that. I mean actual whispers and laughing, but there’s no one there.” I knew that sounded like I’d lost my mind, but I wanted to be honest. “I’m sure it was my imagination.”

  The wrinkles around the older man’s eyes deepened. “Seeing stars?”

  “No, not stars exactly. More like shadows and things.”

  He scratched at his temple. “You’re seeing things now?”

  I sighed. “I’m not making sense, am I? I’m not seeing things, and I’m not hearing things exactly.” I shook my head. “Maybe I am. I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it. I just feel a little off, so I’m probably making things seem worse than they really are.”

  I didn’t expand on my situation because I feared giving him the specifics would make me sound even worse than he’d thought.

  Doc tapped my knee with a tiny hammer-like instrument, and the bottom of my leg jerked forward. “You definitely have a concussion. I don’t think it’s a bad one, but I think we need to get you some tests over at the hospital just in case.”

  “Is that really necessary?”

  He made a soft humming sound. “It’s not every day a patient of mine comes in talking about hearing people and seeing shadows, Chantilly. If your mother were here, she’d want you to go, too. Lord knows that old woman would have driven you there herself.”

  My mother would have, the old stubborn biddy she was. I sure missed her something awful. “Can I give it a few days, maybe see if things improve? I’ve had a lot happening in my life lately, Doc. I’m sure it’s just stress.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me, and I knew he was thinking about it. “Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I want you to go home, take it easy, ice that bump on your head, though it’s probably a little too late for that, and then come back and see me next week. If you’re still having issues, it’s off to the hospital you go, you hear me?”

  “Loud and clear, Doc. Loud and clear.”

  __________

  I CALLED OLIVIA ON my way home from Doc’s office. “I’m sorry I haven’t checked in.”

  “Oh, sweetie, bless your heart. I heard what happened. Are you okay? I’ve been so worried. Where have you been? I called you twice but you didn’t answer. Oh, and that poor Bobby Pruitt, God rest his soul. Terrible. It’s just terrible.”

  “I know, and I’m fine. I went to Doc’s. I figured I’d better go and get checked.”

  “Oh, thank heavens. What did he say?”

  “He thinks it’s a concussion and wants me to get some rest, so I’m heading home for the rest of the day.”

  “Well, of course you are. Even without a concussion—which I knew you had, by the way—you should go home and rest. After the morning you’ve had, you need it. How about I bring over some lunch later? I can pick something up from Del’s place.”

  “That’s not necessary. I’m don’t think I could eat anything anyway, but thank you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  I dragged myself to my bedroom and changed into my comfy clothes while Cooper stretched out on the bed and watched. Fully intending to stay home the rest of the day, I scrubbed my face clean of makeup, applied my strongest moisturizer, and shuffled to the kitchen.

  I stepped past the downstairs bathroom and stopped when I heard the familiar deep voice from inside.

  “Baby girl.”

  I backed up and glanced into the bathroom. “Daddy?” I shook my head. “What am I thinking?” I knew the stories of people that thought they heard the voices of their dead loved ones but that sounded so real. I stood in the hallway and s
tared up at the ceiling. “Daddy? Are you here?”

  No one whispered back, and my heart sank. I missed my dad something fierce. I pulled my hands into the sleeves of my extra-large Auburn sweatshirt and shivered as a chill rushed through me.

  I poured myself a tall glass of iced tea and snuggled up under a fuzzy blanket that had been in the house since high school as I watched daytime talk shows in the den.

  The chilly air filling the house concerned me. My phone’s weather app said it was ninety-six degrees outside, and the thermostat said it was seventy-three in the house. So, why was I cold? I kicked the temperature up to seventy-five and thought I’d have to call someone out next week to check it.

  “Baby girl.”

  I opened my eyes. “Daddy, is that you?”

  He smiled down at me. “Of course it’s me. You’ve got a big responsibility now, but you can handle it. I know you’ll make me and your momma proud.”

  I stared up at him and blinked. “I don’t understand. What responsibility?”

  He brushed my cheek with his hand. The rough edges of his fingertips felt familiar, like home. “Not just her. There will be others.”

  And then a group of people laughed loudly as I danced to Michael Jackson in a country bar.

  I opened my eyes. The audience on the talk show was laughing and applauding. I blinked and scanned the room, hoping with all of my heart I’d see my daddy standing in the doorway, smiling at me like he always did.

  But I didn’t. I knew it was a dream, but it felt so real, the touch of his fingers, the air in the room, everything. I closed my eyes again, begging and praying I’d go back to that same dream, but I didn’t. I couldn’t sleep at all.

  I practically jumped off the couch when someone knocked on my door. I stretched as I stood, not realizing how exhausted I was. I snuck a quick peek out the window, and Jack smiled at me. I checked the time on my phone. Austin was at lacrosse practice, so I assumed the assistant coach was handling it.

  “Hey, come on in.”

  His smile didn’t falter. “You go see Doc?”

  I nodded as I padded toward the kitchen. “Minor concussion, nothing big. Would you like something to drink?”

  “I’m good, but thanks.”

  I swapped my iced tea for a coffee. “I take it you’re not going to make it to lacrosse practice?”

  He shook his head. “Duty calls.”

  “Do you have any leads?” I headed back to the den.

  “We can talk about that.”

  I turned around and watched as he examined my home. “I haven’t made any changes, other than bringing in some of mine and Austin’s things. I’ve thought about it, but I just can’t. Not yet.”

  He nodded. “My dad’s kept his house the same as it was the day my mom died. Said it feels like she’s still there.”

  I understood. “Didn’t your mom pass in the nineties?”

  “Eighty-nine. Still has the green appliances. Did get himself a new microwave though.” He scratched his chin. “Actually, I think he’s had a few, but I’m not sure.”

  “Well, that’s something.”

  “He had to get the first new one. Tried to cook a TV dinner in a microwave tray and melted the plastic in the oven.”

  I laughed. “Daddy probably would have done the same thing.”

  “I know I said it before, but I’m really sorry about your parents. They were good people. I used to have coffee at the park with your dad every now and again.”

  I hoped that one day people sharing their memories of my parents wouldn’t feel like knives stabbing straight into my heart, but that day must have been miles away because I couldn’t even fathom it. “Thank you.”

  We sat in the den. Jack rubbed his hands together. “I’d like to get your statement, and when you’re feeling better, I thought we could take a trip over to Hamilton House. I’m hoping you’ll walk me through what happened.”

  I jumped from the couch. “Can we go now?”

  “Uh, shouldn’t you be resting?”

  “I tried to sleep, but something woke me up, and I’d rather just get it over with. I’m not sure I’ll ever go there again otherwise.”

  “Sure.” He eyed my thick socks, baggy pajama bottoms, and big sweatshirt. “But you might be a little hot in that.”

  I glanced down at my clothing. “Oh, yes. Let me change right quick.”

  His lips curved into a smile.

  Five minutes later we were in his car and headed to the restaurant.

  “Is this your personal car?”

  He nodded. “I have a department issued one, but I like to use my own when I’m dealing with witnesses. I hate making them sit in the back.”

  “And we thank you for that. I imagine that would be quite intimidating.”

  “That’s not always a bad thing.” He cell phone beeped, but he ignored it.

  Yellow crime scene tape blocked the entrance to Hamilton House. As I stepped out of Jack’s car, I checked Bobby’s office window for a glimpse of Agnes Hamilton, but she wasn’t there. I closed the car door and stood there, staring at the building. I chewed on my nail, but when I realized what I was doing, yanked it out of my mouth.

  “It’s okay to be nervous. Most people would be. Just take your time. When you’re ready, we’ll go in.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” I lied.

  He smiled. “Okay, so what happened?” We walked to the entrance, and Jack opened the door and held the yellow tape up for me to step under. “Start from when you walked in.” He closed the door behind me.

  A chill rushed over me, and I rubbed my arms. I took a moment to focus, my eyes darting around the open space and up at the ceiling. A flash of white swung from a rope and then disappeared. I trembled.

  Jack touched my arm, and I jerked forward.

  “It’s okay Chantilly. We don’t have to do this. I can take you home and get your statement there.”

  I shook my head. “No, no. It’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m just a little nervous, but I’ll be fine.” I checked the rafter again, but my imagination must have gotten the best of me because there wasn’t a thing there.

  I explained how I’d arrived, walked into the kitchen, and asked to see Bobby. We retraced my steps and headed up to the offices. I let my fingers trail along the banister as I climbed, wondering how many times Agnes Hamilton had done that very same thing.

  Bobby’s office was located at the back end of the hall, and when we got to it, I froze. “I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

  He nodded. “Take your time.”

  I breathed in and blew the breath out as I straightened my shoulders. “I’m fine.”

  He opened the door, and I suddenly lost my balance. I stumbled back and hit the wall. I squeezed my eyes shut as the room began to spin, but it didn’t help. It was happening all over again.

  A white cloud.

  A person dressed in black.

  A rope.

  A knife.

  A letter dropping to the ground.

  A deep guttural scream.

  And then darkness.

  “Chantilly? Chantilly? Wake up.”

  I opened my eyes. “What? What happened?”

  Jack’s face was millimeters from mine. “You fainted.”

  I pushed myself upright. “Again?”

  “Again.” He helped me the rest of the way up. “This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

  I held up my hand. “No, it’s okay. I want to do this. I need to.” I went over what happened when I discovered Bobby dead in his chair. Seeing him crumpled over in a heap at his desk. The white cloud, the person in black, the knife, the letter, all of it.

  “We never found the letter.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t a letter. Maybe it was just a piece of paper.” I pressed my fingertips into my temples. “It feels like it was a letter though. I don’t understand. How could you not find a piece of paper?”

  I scanned Bobby’s office and there were papers in piles a
ll over his desk. “Great. It could be any one of those.” I ran my hand through my brown hair. “Did the cooks see the person in black? He, or she, I guess, could have gone unnoticed, but did you ask?”

  He nodded. “They didn’t see anyone but you.”

  “Did you talk to Maybelle? I saw her on my way here. She was really upset.”

  “Upset? Why? The cooks told us she was off. I was planning to talk to her today.”

  “You should. She didn’t take the day off. Bobby fired her. That’s what she was upset about.”

  “He fired her? When?”

  “She made it sound like it had just happened.”

  “Did she say why?”

  “He’d found out she entered the barbecue competition.”

  He nodded. “Sounds like Bobby.” He walked behind the desk and picked up a paper. He quickly read it, put it down, and picked up another one, and did the same thing until he’d finished several of them. “There’s nothing here but bills, statements, inventory lists. You don’t have any idea what the paper had on it?”

  “I really can’t even be sure I saw a paper. It’s all so blurry. It’s almost like I dreamed it all in slow motion or something.” I pressed my fingertips into the lower part of my skull under my ears. “I don’t understand.”

  He smiled. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” He guided me out the door, and as he closed it behind him, a shadow appeared inside the office.

  I gasped. “Wait. Open the door. I think someone’s in there.”

  He stood there for a second, just staring at me like I’d lost my mind. “No one’s there, Chantilly.”

  I clenched my fists and shook them at my sides. “Please, just open it. I’m sure I saw something.”

  He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

  I pressed my shoulders back and marched in there ready to prove to Jack Levitt how right I was. Only, there wasn’t anyone inside the room. Not a single soul.

  Jack meandered over to a window, took a look outside, then moved on to the other two. “It’s windy out today.” He pointed to a large maple tree in the back yard of the restaurant. “Probably saw a shadow from this.”