Ghostly Attachments (Haunted Series)

by Alexie Aaron

  “I’m feeling overwhelmed here,” Beth admitted to Mia. “I have the elder Hofmann to interview, and I haven’t heard back from Father Santos yet…”

  “Would you like my help?”

  “Anything you could do would certainly stop me from turning prematurely gray.”

  Mia laughed. “Okay, think of what you want to hand over to me. In the meanwhile, I am going to see if I can bring in some help to keep an eye on the boys.

  Burt took the phone and returned it to normal speak mode. He told Beth to hang in there, apologizing that she felt she had too much on her plate. For this he received a kiss on his cheek from Mia. He ended the call and placed the phone down. He looked over at Mia and said, “I feel like a male chauvinist heel.”

  Mia tilted her head and asked, “How so?”

  “I just assumed that research was Beth’s job and women’s work. I didn’t notice that she was fraying at the edges. Honestly, I don’t notice her much at all. She never complains, and when she does I think it’s her time of the month.”

  Mia’s brows knitted. “Who knew you were this monster. I will have to rethink our relationship,” she teased.

  “I can be taught, bebe, don’t toss me out,” he pleaded, using his best cute, puppy dog face.

  Mia’s eyes danced and she reached out for him. “Come on, Burt, it’s time for some more lessons.”

  Burt jumped up and followed her obediently to the bedroom

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Gerald sat in the viewing room, close to where the mercenaries were being questioned. He knew that they were too well trained to talk about the who, what, where, and when of their operation. But after giving instructions to the interrogators as to what type of questions to ask to elicit a mental response, he was confident of extracting from their minds the next step up the food chain of this operation. One name would lead to another, and soon the pieces would fall into place.

  The information on the ownership of the island had not yet been obtained. Someone with deep pockets had skillfully wiped any geographical records of an isle being there at all. Sure, dozens of sport fishing boats must pass by it daily in the summer months. But no taxes were ever collected by the states of Michigan or Wisconsin. Paperwork-wise, it was off the grid.

  Komal had sent his information to Gerald, via Sabine, hoping that amongst his physical possessions there would be a way to trace the owner of the isle. Angelo volunteered to head up the investigation concerning Komal. Gerald had every confidence that Angelo Michaels would be able to not only sort out what happened to Komal’s earthly remains but find a way to free his soul from the ley-locked prison on that island.

  Gerald forced his thoughts back to the task at hand. In the other room was a cool customer. The man didn’t even register a change on the heart rate monitor. But his mind was an open book to a man used to traveling into the hidden depths of the uncharted territory of the mind. Gerald smiled as he had more than a piece of the puzzle. He had half the board.

  ~

  Beth followed Susan’s car to the large, family home situated on the hillside overlooking the Fox River Valley. It was a big, sprawling brick and clapboard number. Imposing, covered porches stretched out into the lawns. Half-hewed barrels filled with summer flowers were placed as sentinels on either side of the front stairs. Beth followed Susan around the drive and parked next to her near a three car garage. Each Hofmann daughter-in-law carried an heir on their hip. Beth fell in line and followed them towards a side door that was opened by a sallow thin man sporting a reluctant smile.

  Marjorie kissed her father-in-law’s cheek and turned to introduce him to Beth, “Dad, this is the young lady we talked about on the phone, Beth Bouvier. Beth this is my father-in-law…”

  “Max,” he finished and reached out, extending a hand to Beth. “Welcome to my home, Beth.” He clapped his hands together, making the boys smile. “George is upstairs sleeping off another one. Let’s make a lot of noise, shall we, ladies?’

  Beth was pleased at the unexpected good humor of the patriarch of this family. She expected a dour, crabby skinflint out of Charles Dickens’s imagination. Instead, she got a man, although still morning his wife, who was not willing to give into the lure of the grave too soon.

  They settled in the family room. Max explained to Beth this way the boys could run wild and not get into anything harmful. It was childproofed to the max by Max. Susan put little Georgie down and went in search of a cup of coffee. Beth noticed how comfortable each daughter-in-law was in the family home.

  Beth settled in a chair and drew out her notebook. She accepted an offered cold drink and took a long pull of the cola.

  Max sat across from her. His attention divided between her and Maxi who was climbing up his leg wanting a horsey ride. “He’s going to want this all day,” the man explained as he acquiesced and lifted the boy onto his crossed leg.

  “I have a few questions that you may or may not know. Do you mind if I pick your brain a while?” Beth asked.

  “Go ahead, young woman. What little mind I have left is all yours.”

  “First of all, what do you know about what is presently going on at Marjorie and George’s house?”

  “I gathered that Grandmother Hofmann kicked up a shit fit and destroyed the living room.”

  “So you were aware of her before now?”

  “Oh yes, I saw her once when my late wife was rocking Mark. She got up to take the sleeping boy to bed and the chair kept rocking. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but then Grandma Hofmann formed in front of me, all flesh-like, and told me to shush when I screamed like a girl upon seeing her. She wagged a finger at me and disappeared. My wife didn’t believe me. She thought I had been in my neighbor’s moonshine.”

  “Any other stories about Grandma?” Beth fished.

  “Hundreds of them, but that was the first and last time I saw her. I’d hear the chair rock from time to time but never saw her again,” he explained.

  “From what we have determined, I can tell you that it is Anneliese Hofmann who haunts the chair. Is there any lore regarding her?”

  He thought a moment. “Maybe, I think there was a fire in the old house. Wait, I’ve almost got it. Yes! She and two of the three boys she was watching at the time perished in the fire. They claimed she fell asleep. The oldest boy barely made it out alive. Let me see his name was…”

  “Klaus,” Beth filled in.

  “Yes, Klaus. He claimed that the two simple boys were playing with candles. Caught their bedclothes and room afire. Klaus ran for help and found Grandma asleep. By the time the lad got a bucket of water from the kitchen pump, the whole upstairs was on fire. He dropped it and ran. Grandma never woke up.”

  Susan got up and moved in closer and asked, “What does this have to do with what’s going on in that house? It’s just family history.”

  Beth took a sip of her cola to clear her throat. “Sometimes family histories aren’t exactly correct. People who have passed get blamed for things that the still living said happened. They seek out a justice and way to set the story straight. What we have gathered is that Anneliese Hofmann succumbed to the smoke. She didn’t fall asleep. She wants Marjorie, in particular, to know that she couldn’t wake up.

  “Oh!” Marjorie said and perked up. “I thought she was mad at me for not seeing George for the lying cheating bastard he is - no offence, Dad.”

  “None taken,” Max was quick to say.

  “But what about my boys, what attacked them? What destroyed that room? I thought it was Grandma.”

  “We can’t prove it. But information via a sensitive we have is that Erdmut and Garrit were the boys that perished in the fire. They were possibly autistic and could not communicate in life let alone in death. In their minds they are explaining what happened to them, but from our perspective they are hurting, destroying and causing a hell of a ruckus. What you were privy too is mild in comparison to what went on a few nights ago. We have film you will be able to see…”

 
; Marjorie paled and asked weakly, “How bad?”

  “Our technician Ted says to look on it this way, ‘It’s easier to remodel now all the drywall’s gone.’” Beth watched her face, waiting for accusations of why they let this happen.

  “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Not lasting, a few bruises, crushed family jewels, that sort of thing.”

  “Ouch,” Max groaned.

  “The twins are acting out. They want people to know what Klaus did to them. They use an old doll and a book of nursery rhymes to communicate with us. We assume these items were theirs.”

  Max tilted his head and thought aloud, “Could be. They seem old enough. I’ve had them in an old cedar chest until I gave the rocker to Marjorie. I never even thought about where the toys came from. I just thought it would be nice if they got some use.”

  “Beth, forgive me for butting in, but this stuff amazes me,” Susan said breathlessly. “You’re saying that Grandma came in with the chair and the boys with the toys. Oh my go… gracious. So they are haunting the house until the record of their deaths gets corrected.”

  “We think so. We think if we get all of you together at the house, with Mia Cooper’s help, we can communicate the information from them to you and you to them. They will leave and with hope ascend. That brings me to the next question. Do you know if they have graves? Were the bodies recovered?”

  “There’s a lot of Hofmann graves in the old cemetery over on Hecker road, some a lot older than Anneliese Hofmann’s. And there’s a list of the burials archived at the Lutheran church… Saint Mary’s,” Max told them.

  “Would you give me permission to access these records?” Beth asked.

  “Hell, I’ll go with you, young woman. It will do me good to be seen around town with a looker like you. It will drive the Ladies Aide Society mad.”

  Beth laughed at this unexpected admission. “Fine with me. The sooner we can do this, the sooner we can get your relatives out of the house.”

  “Let me get my keys,” Max said getting up.

  “I want to come,” Susan pleaded. “Can you do without me for a while, Marjorie, or would you rather come?”

  “Honestly, I want nothing to do with graves at this point. Go ahead. I’ll wake up George if the boys get out of hand.”

  Max clapped his hands together. “We gots ourselves a field trip.”

  Beth gathered her stuff together and followed Susan and Max out to the garage. He opened one of the doors, exposing a few vintage cars. The Excalibur was a surprise. The elegant two-seater’s polished hood winked in the afternoon sun.

  “If we didn’t have the chaperone we could have driven this one. I think the caddy will have to do. We could put the top down.”

  Beth looked at the 1969 light blue automobile and wished that Ted could see her in this car. She thought, “A looker, huh?” Maybe she had been fishing in the wrong pool. She should move on to where she was appreciated.

  ~

  Mike looked nervously around while Ted looked up the cost of bulletproof vests on the Internet. “I’m telling you these are a waste of time if you get a head wound.”

  “Helmets too then,” Mike insisted.

  “Burt’s going to go ballistic when he sees the company credit card,” Ted warned.

  “I’m an even partner and…”

  “And what?” Burt asked as he entered the command post. Mia trailed him, looking at something or someone in the yard.

  “We’re going to get Kevlar and helmets. Dudes, Captain America shields!” Ted exclaimed. “They actually make them out of… Oh, weight one pound, shit. They’re plastic.”

  “Won’t stop bullets with plastic,” Burt pointed out. “If you want to spend our profits on Kevlar and helmets, it’s okay with me, but you need to vote and Beth has to be present.”

  “Geeks,” Mia said to get their attention, “I think that you stand a better chance if you spend your time trying to find the weapon cache rather than figuring out what part of the body you need to cover with chainmail.”

  “You’re a big talker. You can see the dudes, you know when to duck,” Ted said as he typed chainmail into Google.

  “True. You want me to just ask them? Hey, clowns, what do you need the guns for?” Mia offered.

  “You do that. That’s a brilliant idea. Let us know all aboot it,” Ted fired back.

  Mia walked away from the group and stopped in the middle of the yard. “Excuse me. What do you need the guns for? Hello, I’m talking to you, Blue Coat.” Mia moved her hand as if she were swiping it through the ghost. She turned back to the team, and she shook her head. “Either they aren’t listening or can’t communicate. The blue-coated guy is looking right at me but doesn’t really understand me. I’m a moving picture to him.”

  “What if you OOB?” Burt asked.

  “I’m not supposed to until Gerald takes care of that little problem,” Mia reminded him.

  “Oh yeah, you can’t do that.”

  “Anyway I couldn’t talk to ghosts before when I was bi-locating.”

  “Bi-location’s cool,” Ted said as he walked over with his meter. He moved it up and down in front of Mia, noting the readings. “How’s aboot us seeing if this guy leaves a trail.”

  “Okay, I’m game,” Mia said, taking Ted and turning him around. “Blue Coat is ten feet in front of you.”

  “What did I get the magnetic hits on?”

  “A butterfly, maybe, or was it a moth? I never get those things straight. It was yellow.”

  “Whoa, not good. I better go and recalibrate.” Ted slunk back to the command desk and slammed the device down.

  “Mia, you’re not helping,” Burt called over to her. “Don’t go pissing off the tech.”

  She raised her hands to say What did I do? when she saw the bushes part behind the team. “Duck!” she screamed and hit the ground. The others did the same as a projectile whizzed by them and imbedded in the tree behind Mia. She crawled back to the command post and into Burt’s arms.

  “What the hell, Mia,” Mike said as he looked up from his prone position.

  “The homespun-clad man just took a potshot at Blue Coat. It went right through him, and well, you saw what it did to the tree. He’s still standing, and the gobshite is laughing. Now he’s walking away.” She twisted around and saw the assassin move back into the bushes but not before she saw the disappointment in his face. “Homespun just left. I think it’s safe to get up. These guys have to draw a lot of power to make tangible things operate.”

  Burt got to his feet and addressed the others, “I think for all concerned we better leave this site. Can the investigation. Cut our losses and…”

  Mia, Ted and Mike looked at Burt and smiled. Ted spoke for the trio, “We ain’t leaving. It’s just now getting good.”

  “You three are insane,” Burt said.

  “He’s just noticing, and how long has he known us, Mikey?”

  “Long enough to know we’re insane. Mia, when do you think the old boy should have picked up on your craziness?”

  “The first day we met. Lord, he’s a good looker but a bit thick,” Mia said, rising and moving behind Mike for protection.

  ~

  Gerald put down his phone. Bev could see that he was disappointed. She reached across the table and laid a hand on his. “Problem?” she asked gently.

  “That was Angelo. He went to Ludington to Komal’s residence, except there was nothing there but an empty lot. A neighbor told him that there had been a fire. They suspected that the foreign looking gentleman was smoking in bed and fell asleep causing the fire.”

  “What about Komal’s remains?”

  “Cremated, and since there was no next of kin to contact, he was interred in a common plot.”

  “So they’re gone?”

  “Not exactly. Evidently Ludington only had one burial that year. Angelo is working on a court order to get possession of the ashes.”

  “Things could be worse.”

  “Bev, he’s been
locked in limbo for five years now,” Gerald said solemnly. “What kind of torment is that?”

  “I don’t know, of course. But in our business we have seen worse. You have such a soft squishy middle, Mister Shem.”

  Gerald placed his hand on his abdomen.

  “No, you’re a marshmallow with two hard cookies on either side and covered with chocolate.”

  “My, isn’t that racist,” Gerald pointed out, deliberately trying to get a rise out of her to change the subject.

  Bev took the bait, and soon they were debating who was or who wasn’t a racist.

  Tauni looked over at the arguing pair and shook her head. She just finished with taking Sabine’s vitals. “They always like this?”

  “This is calm. They are on their best behavior for your benefit,” Sabine assured her. “Well, can I get out of bed?”

  “Oh yes, child, as long as you take it slow. You won’t be needing my nursing anymore. Poor Tauni, the wind has changed and I must be off.”

  Sabine laughed. “You’re not Mary Poppins.”

  “How do you know this?”

  “She’s fictional.”

  “Ah, but tell me this, miss smarty pants, what is fictional and what is real?”

  Sabine frowned.

  Tauni continued, “Are we real or some characters in a book?”

  “You’re pulling an existential card, Miss Cerise. Shame on you.”

  Tauni laughed, and Sabine shook her finger at the nurse. Her face softened. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. You’re going to have your hands full with that new boyfriend of yours.”

  Sabine blushed. “I’ve never had a boyfriend before. I wonder if there are any books I can read on the subject.”

  Tauni shook her head. “Lots of books with bad advice. You pay attention to here,” she said as she touched Sabine’s chest over her heart. “This is going to give you all the answers you need.”