by Maureen Wood
His eyes grew wide. “You…you brought something home with you.”
“Come on, Stephen. Really. What’s going on?”
“Last night, I heard you when you got home and climbed into bed. But I fell back asleep.”
“Go on.”
He stared at me hard as if he didn’t know how to say it. Then he began, “Well, you started rubbing my back and I thought, Wow, she should go investigate more often.” He frowned. “Then, the next thing I knew, I was up on my elbows with you beneath me. I was kissing you, holding you. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I’d shifted over you enough that light from the streetlight was coming through the curtains. Then, bam! Right in front of my eyes, your face shriveled away, until it was nothing but a skull with eye sockets!”
For a minute I was stunned. I looked at the way his eyes watered as he retold the story, reliving it a second time. Not knowing what else to say, I asked, “Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” as the memory of the night before began to come together in my mind: the woman in the mirror, the conversation I’d had with Ron and Clay, the “boogada, boogada, boogada” thing.
“No, I wasn’t dreaming. I was still up on my elbows when I turned to my left, and you were there, sound asleep, oblivious to everything. It hadn’t been you at all. Then when I turned back, the skull was gone…”
Intuitively I knew the woman in the mirror had followed me home. I was torn, one part of me felt bad that he had endured such an ordeal. The other part of me was happy that he’d finally experienced something paranormal. Maybe he wouldn’t think me crazy after all.
I waited for my husband to leave to run some errands, when it was safe, I called Ron and blurted out my husband’s “little indiscretion.” After his laughter subsided, I asked, “So, Ron, did you get lucky?”
* * *
“Excuse me?”
“You know, did you capture anything?” Maureen asked.
“After you guys left, I did some base readings with my EMF meter. Although I was picking up some low-level readings, there really wasn’t much to write home about. But here’s the thing. After I finally fell asleep, I was awakened by what I thought was the shaking of the bed. I looked at Jan, who was curled up like a newborn baby, oblivious to what was going on.”
“Did you see anybody?”
“No. But then it happened again, so I grabbed my EMF meter. The readings were definitely higher than before I went to bed.”
“Who sleeps with an EMF meter on the nightstand?” Without waiting for a response, she said, “You do, evidently. Ron, do me a favor. . . please don’t tell anyone else about his ‘little indiscretion,’ Steve will kill me.”
“I promise I won’t. Scout’s honor,” I said. But in truth, I never was a very good Boy Scout…I continued, disappointment in my voice. “I went through the footage of the night, and guess what?”
“The bed was shaking.”
“No. Before it happened, the tape on both camcorders had run out.”
“Maybe that was the plan,” Maureen said. “So what did you do?”
“Nothing. What could I do? I gave Jan a kiss on the forehead and went to sleep. But I have something neat to tell you.”
“What?”
“After breakfast, I was interviewing the girls at the front desk for the iTunes podcast. You’re not going to believe this…They told me when the guys from the TV series Ghost Hunters came here and investigated Room 24, they saw a woman with dark hair as well.” Ron paused. “So I guess it was a productive night after all. The radio show was a success. You saw the woman in the bathroom. I got my bed shaken, and just maybe, Steve was left with a deeper understanding of what the paranormal is all about.”
RESULTS OF THE INVESTIGATION
We found little physical evidence on our investigation of the Concord Colonial Inn, other than a photograph taken during the radio show, which revealed an unusually large number of shooting orbs. Even though a shaking bed woke Ron, we were unable to verify it through video, because both camcorders ran out of film prior to the event. But the most intriguing evidence was Stephen’s tryst with the spirit of the woman that followed Maureen home. Although he found it terrifying, most paranormal investigators would give their right arms to have that experience.
episode fourteen
DANCING WITH THE DEAD
CASE FILE: 6437463
DANCING WITH THE DEAD
Location: Quincy, Massachusetts.
History: An old mill building converted into several businesses, including a dance studio.
Reported Paranormal Activity: Shooting orbs and mists caught on film.
Clients: Wendy (proprietor).
Investigators: Ron (lead investigator), Maureen (trance medium), Leo (photographer), Jeff Belanger (author and paranormal investigator), Rob (particle engineer).
The Ghost Line rang with a call from Jeff Belanger, the founder and chief cook and bottle washer of Ghostvillage.com.
“Hey Ron, what’s happening?” he asked, in his familiar jovial voice. “ I take it you haven’t had a chance to review the video clips I sent you.”
“Ah, that would be a no, but I’ll check it out right now.” Punching a few keys on the keyboard, I found Jeff’s email. I pressed a few more, and a video popped up on the screen. The heavy beat of nightclub music blared through my computer speakers as I sat, momentarily mesmerized by the scene before me. “Wow! Is that what I think it is?”
“Yup, and you, my friend, are going to owe me, big time. If you’re interested, I can hook you guys up.”
“Are you serious? I’ll tell you, Jeff, I’ve never seen anything like that before. I’d definitely like to get a closer look. If you know what I mean.” I laughed out loud. Not wanting to let this opportunity slip through my fingers, I said, “We’re going to be in Lawrence on Friday doing the radio show on WCCM. How about we hook up after the show?”
“That works for me. Say around seven? I’ll email you the directions.”
I hung up the phone. As far as I was concerned, this was going to be a great case. But how the hell was I going to tell Maureen that we’d be investigating the source of strange lights at a “pole-dancing” studio?
Leaving out a few details, I convinced Maureen to go along. So after the radio show on Friday, we had a quick bite to eat and left in Maureen’s car for our trip to Quincy, Massachusetts. We followed the directions Jeff had emailed me and in about an hour we arrived at the studio. We parked next to a blue compact car and were immediately greeted by Jeff.
“Hey, Ron and Maureen, glad you could make it. This is my neighbor Rob,” he said, nodding in the direction of the tall man pulling some type of equipment from the trunk of his car. “Rob’s an engineer,” he continued. “He works with particle-measuring devices.”
“That’s neat. Where is this place?” I replied.
“Just follow me,” Jeff said, as he led us through a small wooden door into the old brick mill building. Once inside we followed him up three flights of stairs, but my eyes were drawn to the black and pink walls adorned with boas, hats, and bordello-type decorations.
Before we had the chance to enter the studio, a scantily clad woman with short auburn hair rushed out to greet us at the top of the stairs. Her lily-white skin was a stark contrast to the thighhigh black boots and black miniskirt. “Hi, I’m Wendy. Welcome to Gypsy Rose Dance Studio,” she said in a bubbly voice.
“Hi, Wendy, I’m Ron and this is Maureen, our psychic investigator.”
“Hey,” Maureen said, looking a little uncomfortable.
Wendy looked from Maureen to me and said, “Has Jeff told you what’s been going on?”
“Well, I saw the video and it’s pretty cool,” I replied.
“What video, Ron?” Maureen asked, her voice rising an octave.
Not even giving me a chance to answer, Wendy spoke up. “You know this a pole-dancing studio, don’t you? I tape all my classes and rehearsals and when I do, I get these little lights that dance along with me. The
y’re really neat. If you want I can show you the video while the boys set up the cameras. By the way, Maureen, do you want a costume? I’m sure I have one in your size.”
Heat rose in Maureen’s face and her eyes flicked from person to person, as if there wasn’t a place big enough for her to hide. “Costume? Nah, I think I’ll pass. But thanks anyway.”
Maureen in a costume! I thought. In all the years I have worked with Maureen, I have never thought of her in a sexual way. Maybe a partner, a friend, and even a sister. But definitely not as an object of sexual desire. I was as happy as she was when she declined.
I walked by Jeff and Rob, who were setting up the camcorder, and continued to the far side of the studio. I blinked. My eyes needed to adjust to the hot pink walls and several wall-size mirrors that made the room appear bigger than it actually was. Two metal dancing poles ran from the hardwood floor to the suspended ceiling.
“Okay, guys, I’m ready when you are.” Wendy strutted over to the boom box she had left on the floor in the right-hand corner of the room. “I’m going to start dancing like in the video. If you accidentally catch a glimpse of ‘something,’ and I don’t mean paranormal, I apologize in advance.” She smiled, then asked again, “Are we ready to go?” As if receiving the acknowledgment she was waiting for, she placed the CD in the player and pressed the button.
* * *
A lump formed in my throat as I looked at Ron and the other guys, their eyes glued to Wendy, barely blinking as if they were afraid to miss out on “something.” Almost immediately her body began swaying with the beat, pulsating to the point where she and the music became one. We watched intently as she twisted, twirled, and spun around the brass poles to the heavy beat of the music. Each move, each thrust of her body, made me feel more and more uncomfortable. In my mind, I knew she wasn’t a stripper, but for the life of me, I had begun to feel like the only woman, a voyeur if you will, at a strip joint, while men drooled at the abundance of bare flesh.
Wendy dances to the beat of the music in an attempt to excite the spirits.
Ron peered into the viewfinder of the camcorder. “Oh, I’m seeing something,” he said over the pounding of the music. “It’s the light anomalies, they’re back.”
I glanced at Jeff, with Rob peering over his shoulder. Jeff acknowledged seeing them with a nod of his head and a thumbs up. Well, I think that was what he was signaling.
Ron removed the EMF meter from his red duffel bag, gingerly stepping further into the room as if not wanting to disturb the sensuous performance of our host.
The EMF meter blinked sporadically, and the CD quickly ended.
“Hey, Ron, take a look at this,” Jeff said, pointing to the camera’s viewfinder. “Don’t they look like the orbs in the video?”
Ron bent over to take a closer look at the small LCD screen and said, “Yeah, kind of, but not nearly as bright.”
“Rob and I are going to try some experiments to see if we can reproduce them,” Jeff continued.
“Great idea. Wendy, can you dance again for us?” Ron asked.
My back stiffened and I glared at Ron. I had just endured seeing more of Wendy than her gynecologist had and I wasn’t looking forward to another round. As if Ron was reading my mind, he said, “Come on, lighten up, will ya? It’s all in the name of science.”
Science, my ass.
She smiled, and it looked genuine enough. “Sure,” she replied, as she put another CD in the player.
She began to move in sync with the music. In one quick motion she flipped herself upside down, wrapped her legs around the pole, and spun like a corkscrew to the floor.
Jeff and Rob started their experiment, dropping bits of dust in front of the lens, in an attempt to “debunk” the light anomalies on the video.
Wendy completed her dance routine. Curious as to the results of Jeff and Rob’s experiment we hurried over to take a look. Ron and I waited as Jeff rewound the camcorder, and then replayed it for us. Jeff glanced at a sheet of paper where he’d written down the exact timing of each anomaly and when they occurred, then stopped at the first sequence of numbers. “Here, you see this.” He pointed to the LCD screen. “It’s a little difficult to see, but we were able to reproduce an orb similar to what Wendy got on her video.”
Ron and I took another step closer to the video recorder. “You may have been able to recreate the orb, but no way is it reacting the same way as they did in Wendy’s video.” Ron looked at Jeff again, and continued. “You think? I mean, in Wendy’s video the light anomalies cascaded around the pole.”
Jeff thumbed through the remaining sequence of numbers that he’d noted earlier, and when done he said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, we proved that dust can make the same orbs, but they are definitely not moving in the same manner.”
Moments later, Jeff and Rob began to check on the results of the particle-measuring devices that they had previously set up.
Suddenly the air shifted, the atmosphere thickened. It was almost touchable, electrified. “Ah, Ron, I think someone’s joining us.”
Ron looked at his silent EMF meter. “Really? Well, I’m not getting anything,” he said as he stuffed the meter in the front pocket of his Dockers, went over to one of the poles and started spinning around it, mimicking Wendy’s moves.
I began to pick up on sexual energy that was not my own. Ewwww, there was a spirit becoming attracted to Ron. “Ah, someone likes you,” I said.
He smiled.
“But it’s a man,” I said as Ron’s smile faded away to near panic.
Just then, in mid-twirl on the pole, the EMF meter went off in his pants’ pocket. Through the pale fabric, the constant red glow of the EMF meter told the story.
“Is that a ghost you’re picking up on, or are you just happy to see me?” I laughed out loud.
As I struggled to control my laughter, I said, “I caught a glimpse of a tall black man with a funny hat. He’s telling me he likes to come to the studio to listen to the music and watch Wendy dance.”
“Like a pimp?” Ron asked.
“No, more like a transvestite.” The second I said “transvestite,” the intensity of the energy escalated, growing stronger and stronger by the minute, as if the spirit knew I’d recognized he was there. My third eye vibrated. Pulsated.
“Can you channel him?” Ron asked.
“Give me a minute.” I closed my eyes, blocking out my visual sense, and forced myself to concentrate on the black man who was rapidly approaching. In the quiet of my mind, I asked him to tell me what it was that he wanted.
He answered my question. A visual of Ron twirling around the pole stood in the forefront of my mind, and with it an overwhelming feeling of desire. “Gross! Sorry, Ron. No, no, no, no. No way. I have my limits.” I shivered inwardly. Like the shaking of an Etch-a-Sketch, I struggled to erase my mind of the spirit’s desires. “Ewww. Nothing personal, Ron, but he really likes you, if you know what I mean. And that, my friend, is more than I want to see.”
Ron thought about that for a second, then said, “Okay if you don’t want to channel him, let’s try something else. How about doing a contact circle?” Ron asked.
“Well, as long as I don’t have to channel him, I’m good with it.”
Ron turned to Wendy, “Want to try it?”
“Sure, how’s it work?”
“Okay let’s all sit in a circle on the floor, hold hands, and try to make contact as a group.” Now sitting, Ron said, “All right, Maureen, can you begin?”
Using the method I’d learned when I was sixteen to help get myself and others into a relaxed state, I counted down. I started from twenty-one, counting backward all the way down to one. Lastly, I lowered my voice and finished by counting us down through the colors of the rainbow, “Ten-red, six-yellow, five-blue, three-green…” I inhaled then exhaled, sensing that everyone was ready to make communication. I said, “If there is a spirit here, please give us a sign.”
Over the whir of the camcorder the sile
nce was deafening.
“If there are any spirits here please give us a sign of your presence,” Ron’s voice echoed my previous question.
Suddenly, there was a bang. It sounded like it was coming from the door directly behind us, in the adjacent room. Ron jumped to his feet, ran over to the door, and pushed it open. He quickly snapped a photo with his 35mm. “There’s no one there,” Ron said as he scrambled back to the circle.
“Ron, I’m really not feeling a presence anymore,” I said.
Not ready to call it a night, he said, “Come on, Wendy, Maureen, let’s go into the other room where we heard the bang and see if we can use your pendulum there to get some questions answered.”
Reluctantly I followed Ron and Wendy into her side parlor, a place where people could take a respite on soft cushiony chairs while others danced. We dragged three chairs over the black and white linoleum and small scatter rugs and placed them in a small circle. As we sat in the dark, once again the door made the same noise as before.
Jeff, having heard the noise at the same time we did, closed the distance between us and the other room. He commented, “Hey guys, I think that sound may be coming from the heating system.”
“That makes sense. We’ve seen similar phenomenon on other investigations, and on some occasions it turned out to be a vacuum or the heat turning on,” Ron said, flipping the on switch to his EMF meter.
I held my pendulum tightly between my thumb and forefinger as we asked questions of the spirit. Nothing. “I don’t think he’s here either.”
In an attempt to liven up the moment, Wendy jumped to her feet, “Hey would you guys like to see a trick?”
“A trick?” I said, almost afraid to ask.
Like flies to flypaper, the second the guys heard the word “trick” they dropped what they were doing and rushed to her side. I wanted to laugh. I don’t think I would have gotten this type of reaction from them if I’d just yelled “Fire!”