by Alexie Aaron
Amber walked on the stage nervous but resolute. Marc was the best choreographer in Vegas. He had an acid tongue and worked you hard, but the results were amazing. No one in a Marc production embarrassed themselves. You were either perfect or out. You couldn’t use sex to get his favor. His sexual preference was unknown because he never dated his clients, male or female. He was never seen with his dancers outside of rehearsals and opening nights. He was incorruptible. She waited for the music and began moving. Being sultry was no problem for the busty blonde. Singing came easy; she was born with pitch perfect. Amber had been acting all her life. Not being gifted with a natural ability for schoolwork, she used her beauty to further herself and get the help she needed to succeed.
“Yes, looking good, Amber. I’d like to see more hip, yes, attack. Good, good, so much improvement since yesterday. You still need to believe the song…” Marc’s voice faded.
Amber looked over at him. The choreographer stood still with his mouth open, his face frozen in shock. She followed his gaze. Her heart stopped. Standing upstage to her right was a man covered in blood. He wore a blood-soaked, white dinner jacket and black pants. His head was crushed on one side, and his body was gray with death. He pointed to Marc and screamed. The sound was so loud, the pickup mics screeched with feedback.
Amber covered her ears as she retreated across the stage. She caught movement in the audience as Juan Carlos’s security team charged the stage. They arrived just as the man disappeared. Amber watched numbly as they searched the stage, ordering the traps to be opened and the orchestra pit to be searched.
Amber knew they wouldn’t find the man. She’d seen his ilk before. He was a ghost. She walked over to Marc, teetering on her high heels. “Marc, darling, he’s gone now, nothing to worry about. He’s just a ghost, an echo of the past,” she cooed.
Marc didn’t respond. He stood still a moment, turned, looked at Amber as if she were an alien, and fainted into her arms.
“Can I have some help here?” she called out as she tried valiantly to hold the unconscious man and stay on her feet.
One of the guards took Marc off her hands and laid him gently on his left side facing the audience.
Marc opened his eyes and looked out into the house. He started screaming, curling into a ball.
Amber put her hand over her brow to block the spotlight and looked out into the house. Sitting in the front row were two swirling black masses. She could see facial features trying to form. They were men as far as she could tell. “What’s with all the dead dudes?” she asked no one in particular. “Are you enjoying the show?” she asked irritated.
Marc started shaking. The guard backpedaled into Amber, knocking her down before he left the stage running.
“Honestly, you’d think he’d never seen a ghost before,” she complained. She looked at the entities in the audience and said, “Scram, before I dump some salt onto you.”
They wavered and faded.
Amber took off her shoes before trying to get to her feet. She had just managed an upright position when a bevy of high pitched screams permeated the air coming from backstage. Several of the cat dancers ran onto the stage.
“There’s a a a woman back there with no head!” one of them said as she cowered behind a backdrop.
The other dancers were crying and shivering. Amber walked up to them and felt the icy air surrounding them. She pulled them out of the way as a gray mist began forming in the spot the girls vacated. Amber’s stomach clenched, and she backed away as two bloodshot eyes locked onto her from a disembodied head.
“Keep away from me, bitch,” Amber said and spat in the entity’s direction. “You have no idea whom you’re dealing with.”
The mouth opened and a blackened tongue rolled out.
Amber felt her lunch start to rise but swallowed it back down. This was her big break, and no ghost was going to take her limelight.
The air sizzled around them. Amber’s hair began to rise in the static electricity. She took a step backward just as a blast of light exploded, taking the head with it.
All around Amber she heard sobs and the chattering of teeth. Marc was having some kind of fright seizure on the floor. The cat girls were huddled in the corner.
Amber looked up at the control room and called, “Juan, we got problems here. What kind of charnel house did you put us in?”
~
Mia sat on the deck of her home, looking out across the lake. She sat next to a visitor who had arrived earlier, unannounced, bearing gifts. Expecting that it was Ralph, Mia had opened the gate without looking in the viewer. When her aunt Beverly walked in the door instead of Ralph, Mia was surprised. She tried not to let it show.
“What are you standing there with your mouth hanging open for? I swear I didn’t bring any ghosts with me, only gin,” Bev said, handing Mia the canvas shopping bags.
“I didn’t know you were in the country. Nice tan,” she said as she struggled under the weight of the bags. “How much gin is in these bags?”
“I got back yesterday. I heard you’d just finished an interesting case, and I wanted to hear about it firsthand. Italy is gorgeous this time of year, but the company boring.”
Mia looked at her aunt suspiciously. Since when was Mia first on her aunt’s list of must sees.
“Sabine is hovering over Brian’s deathbed. Gerald has to take care of business, and I’m at loose ends,” she explained. “I heard my brother’s in town, but since I hate Amanda, and he thinks I’m dead, I thought I’d come out to Boonesville and see my niece.”
“It’s Big Bear Lake,” Mia corrected. “Nice to be last on your list, as always,” she commented under her breath as she emptied the contents of the bags on her counter. The liquor was expensive, the cheese foreign and the crackers plentiful.
“Make us a feast I’ll make us a pitcher of G&Ts. Let’s sit out on the deck so I can maintain my tan.”
“I’ve got neighbors so you’re going to get tan lines,” Mia warned.
“No problem, dear, people in Chicago expect tan lines.”
Mia arranged the cheese and crackers on a platter, adding some of her own munchies to the mini buffet.
They sat in silence, watching the waves crash over the rocks. The warm breeze kept the flies away, and Mia was soon feeling quite dozy.
“So how was your family reunion?,” Bev’s voice cut through Mia’s haze, jolting her awake.
“Eventful. I had to save my father’s butt, and he returned the favor. Seems there’s more to him than I remembered.”
“He’s still an ass. As to his wife…”
“Let’s not go there,” Mia requested.
“Bernard told me you came upon quite a stash of gangster memorabilia.”
Mia described the find and what precipitated her sojourn down the prohibition era escape slide. “I seem to be running into a lot of guys and dolls these days. I wonder what’s stirring them up.”
Bev thought a moment. “Could just be the fact that most of them left this earth badly. No one seemed to die of old age in the twenties and thirties.”
“Mayhaps.”
“Mayhaps, is that a word? Sounds like you’ve been hanging around that reprobate Murphy too much,” Bev criticized.
“No, but I did have a resident from bird central in my brain for a bit too long. Speaking of which, have you seen Angelo lately?”
Bev stiffened but relaxed immediately saying, “No news is good news.”
“Are you still investigating with Santos’s group?”
“Not so much. I’ve been a bit distracted, and he’s concentrating on other things. I bet you’ve seen him more than I have.”
Mia nodded absently. “Have you ever met Father Alessandro?”
Bev looked at her sharply and wrinkled her brow. “Yes, I don’t like him.”
Mia refrained from telling her that she did. It wasn’t a day to contradict her aunt.
“Why? Have you met him, and why?” Bev asked.
“He helped u
s with an investigation.”
“Careful, he’s a mind reader.”
Ah, thought Mia, that’s why she doesn’t like him. Bev likes her secrets. “I didn’t have any problem with him. Besides, I think he’s a delightful old man.”
Bev turned away from Mia and pointed out a small sailboat on the lake. Mia took this as a hint to change the subject. “We’ve found a venue for the wedding.”
“You’re not going through with that farce still are you?” she spat. “Not that Theodore isn’t fun to be around, but marry the boy?”
“I love him, and I’m getting married,” Mia said stubbornly. “Ralph, Bernard and even Father like him. We’re a good match so get used to it.”
“You’re too young. Fuck around a while. Live life first.”
“Ted is my life. And why are you so sour on marriage, anyway?”
Bev waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t like the idea of being owned.”
“Owned?” Mia asked surprised. “In this day and age, no one owns another.”
“You’d be surprised, Mia. You’re family owns you until you get married in some cultures. Then your husband owns you.”
“Thank god, I don’t live or cater to that kind of thinking. I’m aghast that you do.”
“I’ve traveled enough to know the true measure of mankind, and marriage isn’t for me.”
“So I can scratch your name off the invite list,” Mia said evenly and continued, “Not that you’d show up with Father there anyway.”
“Did you tell him I was alive?” Bev asked panicked.
“No. That’s your business.”
“What about your mouthy fiancé?”
“Not to my knowledge. Why, it’s not like he works for the IRS…”
“Just keep your traps shut. I don’t need his interference in my life.”
Mia got up and walked to the door. “I’m going in to shower some of this sweat off. I suggest while I’m gone, you think about what country and time period you’re in. You’re acting positively medieval.”
“I’m just… Fuck, you wouldn’t understand. Go take your shower. Mind if I crash in your guest room awhile?”
“Make yourself at home,” Mia said and shut the slider behind her. She walked towards the master suite and stopped and looked back at her aunt. She was on the phone talking animatedly to someone. “Perhaps she and Gerald are having a fight. Maybe this is why she’s got her panties in a twist,” Mia said to herself. She walked into her room and shut the door behind her.
~
Burt sat in the PEEPs office beside Ted. They were running the recently edited film, watching for anything that would make the paranormal investigation look less than on the up and up. It only took the slightest thing out of place to send their fans into a tizzy. Lately, all of the reality-television-based ghost hunting groups were under fire because a few rogue groups were faking their results. PEEPs must maintain a scientific stance on the paranormal. If they investigated and found ways to debunk the supposed evidence, they were duty bound to do so. The Rosemont Hotel was a hot spot for detractors as it was. The facts all pointed to the conclusion that it was being haunted. It took a careful hand to show that the hoaxes reported by other teams were being done by actual entities.
“I don’t know, Ted. I think that Mike was right about us staying away from this one.”
“We proved it was haunted. We have film evidence of the ghost performing the hoaxes. And the fact that we found a body…”
Burt sighed. “Let’s hope that’s enough. Fact is, we’ve been compensated, and on top of that, it looks like PEEPs will receive a hefty bag of cash because of the finder’s fee on all that rare liquor going to auction.”
“That does look a bit suspicious. I don’t think it will be the end of us. But until it airs, we should beat feet and do a few more investigations. This way we have other shows. Remember, you’re only as good as your last show,” Ted reminded Burt.
He nodded. The PEEPs phone rang. It rarely did except when a call was forwarded from their old Kansas number. These days their jobs came via referrals or the website. “Hello, Paranormal Entity Exposure Partners, Burt Hicks speaking.”
“That’s an awful mouthful,” a familiar female voice said.
“Amber?”
“Yes, it is I, your old… er… young and vivacious previous investigator.”
“It’s great to hear from you. I heard you’re looking to work in Illinois.”
“I’m already here. That paper was just a formality,” she said divisively. “Actually, that’s why I’m calling you.” Amber went on to explain the events at The Jewel and asked if PEEPs would be interested in investigating and eradicating the entities for her.
“Do you have any problem working with Mia?”
“There’s no hard feelings between Mia and myself, Burt. It’s Beth that I couldn’t stand. She’s a viper dressed in mousey clothes.”
“Mike handles the contracts…”
“Well, that may be a problem. My boyfriend, soon to be husband, Juan Carlos doesn’t know about Mikey and me. If you could put a mute on the subject of our after hours activities I’d appreciate it. I’ll have Juan Carlos’s lawyer deal with the contract. How soon can you guys get here?”
“I can have the team assembled in a few days. We’ll push back the next investigation since this seems to be, well, more interesting. A burlesque house, what in heaven’s name made you decide to become a stripper?”
“A burlesque performer, dearie. It’s a long story, but I think it’s for me. Send someone down here to take a look around ASAP, Burt. We’re hemorrhaging dancers here. We’ll pay for the investigator’s time until the contract is signed.”
“Fair enough. I’ll get on the phone and see what I can do.”
“Do that. I’ve got to go. Juan Carlos is on the other line.” Amber ended the call.
Burt turned to Ted and repeated all that Amber Day had told him.
“You want Mia and me to go check things out?”
Burt nodded. “It will give me time to approach the subject with Mike. He and Amber didn’t end on a good note.”
“Do you believe her about the place being haunted?”
“No, that’s why you and Mia need to get down there. Today if possible.”
Ted picked up his phone and dialed.
Chapter Seven
“So tell me again, why is your aunt staying with you?” Ted asked. Mia had picked him up in the truck, very happy to be out of her house.
“I think she’s lonely. I didn’t think she was staying with me until I saw her luggage. I think she snuck it in while I was in the shower. She wanted to come with us to check out The Jewel, but I told her that it was quite possible this was a hoax. She made me promise to call her on the way back so she could give me a grocery list, says she’s going to cook supper. She doesn’t cook, Ted. She’s acting odd. I wonder if she and Gerald are having a fight.”
Ted listened to Mia’s explanation, waiting for her to take a breath so he could speak. “I wish I had some pearls of wisdom for you, Minnie Mouse, but I’m tapped out.”
Mia started laughing. “Gee, I’m shocked. I thought that you had an infinite store of pearls.”
“Cid’s burrowed under the house and found my cache,” Ted explained. “I’m going to wallop that boy one day.”
“Remind me again, how much age difference is there between you?”
“Seven months.”
“And that gives you the right to call him boy?”
“Damn straight. He’s an infant. If it weren’t for the corrupt testing in our school system, he would have been a grade behind me.”
“Don’t you dare tell me, Cid is smarter than you?”
“Nope, just tested higher.”
Mia smiled. She knew that Ted’s genius couldn’t be measured by standardized tests but by what he could create. He may be short some pearls of wisdom, but he had an infinite supply of ideas and the smarts to engineer them.
The he
art of old Joliet was located a few blocks off the Des Plains River. They turned left onto a one way road. Mia slowed the truck as they passed the Rialto Square Theatre.
“That’s where Al Capone used to hang out,” Ted said. “If we want to pay 400 bucks, we can do an investigation there. See some ganstas.”
Mia groaned. “I’ve had my fill of gangsters. The Jewel is around the corner closer to the river. Do you think they are having crossover haunts?”
“Are you saying, perhaps The Jewel wants to get in on the haunted tour thingy?”
“Just saying it looks mighty suspicious.”
“Remember, Burt wants us to have open minds and eyes,” Ted said, putting his hand over his heart. “We are to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous…”
“Hey, that’s the Boy Scouts,” Mia accused.
“What gave me away?”
“You had me until courteous, since when has Mike ever been courteous?”
“Can’t think of a time. So we should make up our own oath of office.”
“I swears to not swear on camera,” Mia started. “To not scream when I hears screams.”
“To take pictures of everything including pictures,” Ted continued. “To get a fucking contract before fucking around… Speaking of, are you going to sign that prenup Alan sent over?”
“The one where you have stated, ‘What’s mine is yours and what yours is yours?’”
“Yeah, that one.”
“No.”
“Oh.”
“How did you get Alan to do that?” Mia asked.
“Actually, Cid scanned his letterhead and wrote it himself,” Ted explained.
“Clever boy,” Mia said dryly as she pulled the truck into a space in front of the theater. The marque was dark but spelled out the message, Under construction, opening soon.