Ghostly Attachments (Haunted Series)

by Alexie Aaron

  Mia took off her gloves and carefully touched one of the piles of saw dust. She felt nothing. “Strange,” she said aloud, forgetting that the client was in the room with them.

  “Pardon?” Marjorie knelt beside her. “Did you say something?”

  Taking a deep breath, Mia grabbed a handful of the stuff and let it run through her fingers, falling to the floor. “I can’t fathom what would have caused this or why. When furniture is crafted, particularly wood, there is a trace memory of the carpenter. It was also used by one or both of your boys. There should also be a trace of memory. True, it would be from the perspective of a new human, but it would be there.”

  Burt stopped writing and looked down at Mia and asked, “What do you feel? What do you see?”

  “Nothing. Absolutely nothing. It’s as if the furniture was stripped clean of everything. Rendered back to nothingness.”

  Marjorie didn’t understand exactly what the tiny blonde girl was saying, but she still had the presence of mind to ask, “Why?”

  “I don’t have a clue,” Mia said getting up. Walking to the mangled toys, she put back on her gloves and picked one up. “This I understand, this is anger. That,” she said pointing back to the piles of saw dust, “is beyond my understanding.”

  The three of them looked around the small space one more time before leaving the room and shutting the door. Burt pulled a small roll of tape from his pocket and broke off a small piece of it and placed it across the jamb on to the door. “This will let us know if anyone enters this room after we have left,” he explained. “Let’s finish the tour and talk to your family.”

  Marjorie nodded and took them through the rest of the second floor. Nothing seemed out of the norm there. Mia asked about an attic, and Marjorie pointed out the entrance in the landing ceiling. She started to pull down the stairs, but Burt stopped her.

  “Allow me.” Burt pulled gently on the cord and lowered the mechanism. He unfolded the stairs, and after making sure they were secure, he climbed up into the hot space and reached around until he found the light. As the space was illuminated, he climbed up the rest of the way. He called down, “Okay, to come up.”

  Mia looked at the woman before her and said, “Attics are tricky places, you don’t have to go up.”

  “No, this is my house, and I will finish the tour.”

  “Good for you.” Mia stepped back and let the woman precede her up the stairs.

  Marjorie took a deep breath as she hit the heat of the attic. “Mr. Hicks, there is a fan over your head. Pull the string and let some of this hot air out.”

  Burt looked around and spied the string. He pulled it and the fan began to whirl.

  “Are there any other family heirlooms kept up here?” Mia inquired as she moved through the orderly boxes and castoffs.

  “Maybe a few china pieces from my side of the family, the Kleinsmiths. George’s father has the Hofmann antiques with the exception of the rocker. Why?”

  “Just asking. Going through my list.”

  Burt was at the far end of the colonial’s floored attic and was standing by a small circular window. He tested it and it didn’t open. “Does anything here look disturbed to you?”

  Marjorie walked around and lifted a few things. “No, it looked like it did when we brought up… Wait.” She knelt down and moved some boxes around. She didn’t see it. The long box was not where she and George had put it. “Do you see a long flat case? About the size of a coffee table book.” She held up her hands to show the investigators the size and thickness.

  Mia and Burt each took an end of the attic and moved towards each other. Burt spotted the case underneath a couple of wicker baskets. “I found it. Do you want me to bring it over?”

  Marjorie nodded, and she cleared off the top of a cedar chest and waited for Burt to place the case down. “I don’t understand why George moved it.” She bent over and unlatched the box. “This is a set of dueling pistols my brother bought at an auction in Montreal. He thought it would be a nice gift for George. You know, to display somewhere. But with the children, I thought we should keep them up here until a locked display case could be made.” Marjorie lifted the cover and pulled aside a piece of velvet.

  The case was empty.

  ~

  Bev wiggled her toes, liking the color of varnish placed there. Summer sandal season had brought out not only her toes but her good mood. She splurged on a pedicure because she was no longer comfortable bending over to reach her toes, let alone having a hand steady enough to apply the polish. Strawberry Fields was the name of the polish, and squinting a bit, her toenails did indeed resemble little strawberries. She wondered if she would ever convince Sabine to wear more color. Her protégé’s color palette was pale hues, icy watered-down blends of pinks and blues. Bev laughed at the memory of Burt Hicks’s discomfiture at not knowing whether Sabine was alive or a spirit. Ah, but to have her complexion. Bev pulled her skin back at the hairline and looked in the salon’s mirror. Maybe she could afford a lift or a peel?

  She reached into her purse to find some bills to leave as a tip for the manicurist. Bev pulled out her cell phone and set it on the counter. Her wallet was tucked in below it. She grabbed the smooth leather and extracted a few bills. The mani-pedi was placed on Gerald’s charge card. He gave it to her for emergencies. She knew he wouldn’t bring up the charge, he never did.

  Bev looked at the phone and saw she had a text from Sabine. It was another OOB. She checked the time on the text and the time on the phone. Four hours! Maybe Sabine forgot to text her when she returned. Bev dialed the errant girl’s number and waited for her to pick up. No, just ten rings before her voice mail. Bev left an angry message for the girl to call her immediately.

  “Four hours!” she said as she walked outside and hailed a cab. She rang Sabine’s landline with the same result. No answer. The cab pulled up, and Bev got in giving instructions to the driver. She fought down a panic that was building. “Calm down, old girl,” she said to herself. The cab driver, used to people talking to themselves, ignored her with the exception of a quick look in the rearview mirror to verify she was indeed not addressing him.

  The short ride to Sabine’s condo seemed to take forever. Bev paid the man and breezed by the doorman and into the elevator in record time. She prayed that all would be fine when she reached Sabine. The closer she got to the apartment, the more dread she felt. She couldn’t feel the young woman’s presence. Maybe she went out. The elevator opened, and Bev ran down the hallway, ignoring the flap flap of her sandals. She pounded on the door with one hand as she searched her purse for Sabine’s keys. “Come on, if I chip a nail, Sabine. Ah, there you are.” She pulled out the keys.

  She opened the door and immediately saw Sabine on the couch. She was laying on her back with her arm outstretched, her phone on the floor beside her. Bev sat down and felt and received a strong pulse. Sabine’s color was pale but that was the girl. Her skin felt chilled from the air-conditioning so Bev went in search of a blanket in which to cover the thin young woman.

  Returning, she arranged Sabine’s body and pulled the cover up. Bev walked into the kitchen and made herself a pot of coffee. She would stay on watch until the traveler returned to her body. And when she did, Bev was going to give her hell.

  ~

  Marjorie left Burt and Mia inside and left the house. She walked over to Mark and Susan who were leaning against their car waiting.

  Susan looked up and asked, “Is everything okay?” She groaned inwardly - how could everything be okay? What a lame thing to ask.

  Marjorie reassured her sister-in-law, “I think you found the right people to help us. Excuse me, I have to ask George something.”

  Susan nodded and Mark started to follow Marjorie, but Susan put a restraining hand on his arm.

  George sat sweltering in the car. The opened windows did little to bring a breeze in. He could have left the vehicle but refused to budge. Marjorie startled him when she knocked on the roof of the car.


  “Are you asleep?” she asked him.

  “No.”

  “It’s got to be ninety degrees in that car. Get out.” She pulled the door open and he refused to move. She unbuckled the seat belt, and still there was no movement.

  “Go away.”

  “You have to be kidding. Get your ass out of Mark’s car before I get the hose and water you and the car down!”

  George looked at her and saw she meant business. He got out of the car. He stood towering over her, but she didn’t let it bother her.

  “Do you know where the dueling pistols are?”

  “What?” He wrinkled up his face and answered, “Upstairs in the attic. Under the Christmas bulbs. Why?”

  “Well, they aren’t there. We found the box on the other side of the attic, empty.”

  “Why were you looking for them, anyway? Don’t we have bigger problems in there besides missing eighteenth century weapons?”

  Marjorie winced as her husband’s condescending tone had returned. She couldn’t decide if she preferred the petulant child or the arrogant bastard better. “The reason is that they are missing. And even though it seems impossible, we may have an armed, pissed off granny on our hands.”

  George paled. “You have to be shitting me.”

  Marjorie was temporarily taken aback with her husband’s crudity. The garage door raising gave her a wicked reply as the odor of dog feces hit them. “Speaking of shit…”

  Chapter Eight

  Burt and Mia invited the two couples into the house. He suggested they sit in the kitchen, away from most of the prior disturbance. Mia waited for them all to sit around the table before taking out a shaker of salt and inclosing them inside the ring of sodium chloride.

  Mark almost giggled in his nervousness, but Susan’s hand gripped his and he relaxed.

  Burt cleared his voice before speaking, “What we, Mia and I, have found so far in our investigation is that the paranormal activity centers around the antique platform rocker in the front living area. Sometimes, we don’t know why, spirits attach themselves to objects that have brought them comfort in life. From my notes, I believe you think it is a Great Grandmother on George and Mark’s side of the family. For the sake of simplicity we will call her Grandma Hofmann. Grandma rocks in the chair from time to time, as you have reported, throughout this family’s history. Why? Again we don’t know, yet. We may never know.”

  “So we just chuck the chair and all that’s that,” George announced.

  Burt shook his head. “That would have been an option before. But Grandma has left the chair, and her essence has permeated the walls of this house. Something must have pulled her out of the chair. Made her so mad that she not only pulled her spiritual form out of the chair, but ripped a hole through which something or some things followed her.”

  Mia waited for this to sink in before she spoke. “We believe there is more than just one spirit active in your house. The violence in the nursery and the garage wasn’t done by Grandma but may have been done by other entities. I can’t be sure without further investigation.”

  “I don’t understand,” Marjorie questioned, “Why is this happening to us? This is a new house!”

  “But you brought in antiques, the pistols and the chair. They have a residue and echo of the past imprinted on them. With research we may be able to figure out the players and, once we do that, work on ridding your house of their presence,” Burt said confidently.

  Mia asked again, “What happened to start this off?”

  “George slapped me,” Marjorie said and started to cry.

  Mark looked at his brother with disgust. Susan had to stop herself from kicking the man under the table.

  “He was drunk. I yelled at him,” Marjorie cried, drawing the blame on herself.

  There was a low squeak from the front room.

  “Don’t move outside this circle. You will be safe here.” Mia stepped over the salt, followed by Burt.

  The chair was rocking at a frantic rate when they stepped into the front room. Mia could see an old woman, quite agitated, moving back and forth. She ran back into the kitchen. “Marjorie, tell Grandma that it’s not your fault that George hit you.”

  “But?”

  She had no sooner uttered that word when Burt saw a swirling black mass move out of the chair. It moved past him and into the kitchen.

  “Wake… wake… WAKE UP!” it screamed filling the room. It stopped short of the table.

  Mia could see Grandma raise a hand. “Marjorie, tell her it’s not your fault,” she ordered.

  “Grandma Hofmann, George hit me, and it’s not my fault.”

  Mia could see Grandma smile.

  The black mass dissipated, but not before Grandma Hofmann put two fingers to where her eyes would be and pointed at George and back again. Mia took in the message that Grandma had her eye on George.

  Burt walked back into the kitchen scratching his head. Mia moved past him and looked in on Grandma. She sat there smiling. She had picked up the e-reader and was engrossed in the book. Mia made a note to herself to get a hold of a copy of that book. Walking back to the kitchen she listened but didn’t hear anything other than an occasional squeak from the chair.

  “Is it over? Are we done?” Mark asked Burt.

  Burt looked at Mia and she shook her head. “Maybe things have settled for the moment, and I suggest, George, you look into some anger management courses. Unfortunately, this house has more than Grandma to deal with. I suggest, with your permission, I get my partner Mike and the rest of the PEEPs team in on this. Beth will handle the research on the pistols, and I would like to get your permission to talk to any older Hofmann relatives. Once we get a better picture of what is going on, who the players are, then we can come up with a plan to rid your home of these unwanted entities.”

  “The chair goes now!” George ordered.

  Mia swung around putting her hand up to silence him. “Sir, I would not advise doing this until we get Grandma settled. She has formed an alliance of sorts with your wife. She will not take kindly to you separating her from her favorite great granddaughter-in-law.”

  “How do you know these things?” George said acidly, “You’re a stranger, this is family business.”

  “You asked for our help, did you not?” Burt came to Mia’s defense. “If she says that Grandma’s not ready to leave, I would stake my life on that she is right. But we can leave here and let you deal with the chaos that you brought about with your boorish behavior.”

  George puffed at his chiding. He settled down and said, “There’s no reason to be hasty, I just wanted a say in this investigation.”

  “Now, you do,” his brother said incredulously. “Susan and I have pulled all the weight here.”

  Mia heard the chair move again. Waving her hands she pleaded, “Please, save the argument for a time and a place away from this house. Pipe down, Grandma is trying to read.

  ~

  Bev looked at the clock and checked on Sabine’s body again. “Eight hours!” her mind screamed. She picked up her phone and sent out an SOS text to Gerald and Mia. Gerald called immediately.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Sabine’s been out of her body for eight hours!”

  “Calm down, did she leave a note?”

  “No, just the time she expected to be back.”

  “How long overdue?”

  “For cripes sake, you expect me to do math? Six hours overdue, more or less. I need to go out and look for her. OOB is a tricky business, but I need someone to watch her body. I put out an SOS to Mia. I’m hoping she can come with me. The two of us will be able to scour the city in a few short hours.”

  “Her body is going to need water and food.”

  “I know. Maybe an IV and catheter to start with. Have you ever put one in?”

  “God no! But I know a nurse, she works with coma patients. I will ask for her help. It’s going to cost us.”

  “Sabine’s flush with cash. She keeps it
in little jars all over the place.”

  “How do you know this?” Gerald accused.

  “I’ve been here for six hours! What do you think I’ve been doing, watching the TV? But what do we tell this nurse if we get her?”

  “I’ll handle it, don’t worry. I’m presently west of Mia, I could stop and pick her up on my way into the city. Give her a call and call me back.”

  ~

  Mia looked at her phone and saw the emergency message from her aunt there. In her haste Bev had typed SOS 911 & now.

  She had gotten Bev’s voice mail the first time Mia tried to call her. She waited and called again.

  Bev answered on the first ring, “It’s about time!

  “Are you alright?”

  “Me, yes fine, but Sabine’s overdue.”

  Mia scratched her head and asked, “I didn’t know she was dating?”

  “No, god no, not pregnant. She is six hours overdue from OOBing.”

  “That’s not good. How can I help?”

  “Can you come into the city? I know you can OOB here faster, but I think I need a flesh and blood Mia.”

  “I can take off, but Burt can’t drive me. He has to meet with his team.”

  “Gerald will give you a ride in. I need him too! Oh Mia, what if she’s lost?”

  “Aunt Bev, we’ll find her. I assume you have thought of the practical things such as water and food?”

  “Yes, Gerald has a nurse he can get. I’m so worried.”

  “Hang on. I’ll get there as soon as I can.” Mia looked up and saw Burt exit the house looking for her. She waved him over.

  “Thank you, I’ll call Gerald and have him touch base with you.” Bev ended the call.

  Burt walked across the street. He showed her the contract on the clipboard. Mia flipped through it, making sure it was initialed and signed in all the right places. “Looks good to me. Burt, honey, would you mind if I took off for a while?”

  “Now?” he questioned her, unable to hide the irritation in his voice.