Spirits 04-Spirits of Seacliff Manor

by Morgan Hannah MacDonald

  “Thank you, Dr. Goodman,” Brandon said.

  “I’m starving,” Alyssa announced the second they got in the car.

  “That’s a good sign,” Courtney answered.

  “What do you want?” Brandon asked.

  “Two Egg McMuffins, hash browns, and a vanilla shake.”

  “Sorry, Lyssa, it’s ten o’clock at night. You’ll have to settle for a Quarter Pounder or a Big Mac,” Courtney said.

  “Not in San Diego. McDonald’s serves breakfast all day,” Alyssa said.

  “No way,” Courtney replied.

  “Yes, way,” Alyssa shot back.

  “That’s not fair. I’m moving to San Diego,” Courtney announced.

  Alyssa laughed. It felt good, as if she’d been living in a fog that had finally lifted.

  Later that night, she cuddled up behind Brandon and held him tight. She had this irrational fear of losing him. As if every time he walked out the front door, he wouldn’t be back.

  Brandon patted her hands. “Uh, babe?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re crushing me.”

  “Oh.” She eased her grip. “Sorry.”

  He rolled on his back and pulled her into his side. “What’s going on?”

  Alyssa couldn’t explain her anxiety. “I miss you. That’s all.”

  “I miss you too. I’m really sorry. As soon as I have this mess cleaned up, I’ll have a more regular schedule. I promise.” He kissed her forehead.

  “I know. I hate feeling so needy.”

  “I think it’s having your nutty sister here that has you tied up in knots. She called me, you know.”

  “What?” She turned her head up to see his face.

  “I think she was just trying to get attention. She told me some fantastic story about a ghost.” He shook his head. “You know how she is.”

  “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have bothered you at work.”

  “No worries. I’ve known her since she was a kid. But if she’s the one who’s affecting your health, I say we send her packing.”

  “That’s not it. At least I don’t think so,” Alyssa replied.

  “Look, I know there’s a lot going on here with the workmen and all the renovations. I truly didn’t mean for you to get stuck with it all. If you want, we can send everyone home and we’ll have them pick up where they left off when I have more time to oversee it. Would that help?”

  “No. Bailey’s been really great helping with all that. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  Suddenly she heard tiny feet scampering overhead. She looked at the ceiling.

  “What’s wrong?” Brandon asked.

  THIRTEEN

  “Did you hear that?” Alyssa stared at Brandon.

  “Hear what?”

  She crawled out of bed and opened the door to the sound of children giggling. “Tell me you don’t hear that?”

  “Babe, what are you talking about?”

  She ran down the hall and sprinted up the stairs. When she got to the third floor, she stopped. There was a little girl playing ball with a smaller boy. Brandon came up behind her.

  “Tell me you don’t see that?” Alyssa said under her breath.

  “Tell me what you’re seeing,” Brandon whispered.

  Behind the boy and girl toward the end of the hall were two children dressed in Halloween costumes. Plastic masks covered their faces; one was Casper, the other Superman. They held hands and appeared to be watching the other children play.

  Alyssa pointed. “Them.”

  “Hoooleeey shit. I told you this place was haunted,” Courtney said from behind them.

  Alyssa jumped and grabbed her chest. “You just scared the crap out of me. Keep your voice down.”

  “I scared you?” Courtney said quieter this time. “What about them?” She nodded toward the ghosts.

  Brandon looked from Courtney to Alyssa. “I don’t know what to tell you, but I think you girls are just…”

  The large rubber ball bounced down the hall and stopped at Brandon’s feet. He bent and picked it up. “What the—”

  “You were saying?” Courtney interrupted.

  Brandon shook his head slowly, his mouth opened, but no words came out.

  A dark cloud appeared over the children’s heads. They screamed and disappeared into thin air. The cloud began to form legs that reached to the ground. Soon the entire thing appeared to have the outline of a man with no features, simply a black shadow that reached from floor to ceiling. A foul stench filled the air and the temperature dropped drastically.

  Alyssa shivered. She wrapped her arms around herself and realized she had goose bumps. She could see her breath come out in frosty spurts as she panted like a dog. Her heart beat uncontrollably fast. The thing came toward them and they backed away as a group.

  Courtney screamed and Alyssa looked over. “My back is burning.”

  Alyssa grabbed her hand and ran toward the stairs. A dresser slid out of a room, blocking their path. They skirted left. A chair skidded out of a room on the left, right in front of Courtney, who ran into it. “Oooph.”

  Brandon pushed it aside and grabbed Courtney’s arm. A picture from the wall flew at his head, he ducked just in time. Suddenly every picture lining the walls crashed to the floor at once. The deafening sound had Alyssa covering her ears. Shards of glass flew in all directions.

  Alyssa felt as if she’d been stung by a hundred bees; she covered her face immediately with her arms, but that made it hard to maneuver.

  “Hurry,” Brandon yelled.

  Alyssa did her best, but she couldn’t see in front of her, just the ground. The noise stopped all at once.

  “Run now!” Brandon shouted.

  Alyssa dropped her arms. Courtney and Brandon waited at the top of the stairs. She raced toward them and together they bounded down the stairs, the sound of thundering feet echoing off the walls. Brandon led them to Vera’s room and slammed the door behind them before he shoved the dresser in front of it.

  “Like that’s going to keep him out,” Courtney said sarcastically.

  “You have a better idea?” Brandon shot back.

  “No, but…”

  “That’s what I thought.” Brandon glanced at Alyssa. “Babe, you’re bleeding.”

  “So are you,” Alyssa replied. She looked at Courtney. “You too.” They were all peppered with wounds about the face, neck, and arms. “I have some triple antibiotic cream in the bathroom.”

  Alyssa made her way toward the medicine cabinet above the sink and stopped at her reflection. All of her exposed flesh was covered in bright red spots, evidence of multiple cuts. A shard of glass stuck out of her arm. She removed it dropping it into the sink. The blood flowed freely. Belatedly she grabbed a tissue to staunch the wound.

  Courtney came up behind her. “Would you look at my back? It feels like it’s on fire.”

  Alyssa lifted her shirt. “Oh, my, God. How did that happen?”

  “What?” Courtney tried to see in the mirror.

  “You have three deep gashes across your back.”

  Courtney’s eyes went wide. “That’s the mark of a demon.”

  “What do you mean?” Alyssa asked.

  Brandon joined them. “Damn, Court, that looks bad.”

  “Demons do everything in threes to mock the Holy Trinity; the Father, Son and the Holy Ghost.”

  Alyssa began cleaning the cuts with rubbing alcohol.

  “Ow!” Courtney flinched.

  “I’m sorry, honey, but we don’t want this to get infected,” Alyssa said.

  Courtney sucked in a breath. “They call three o’clock the witching hour because that’s when the veil between the two worlds is the thinnest. You’re more likely to see ghosts or have paranormal activity during that hour. Three thirty-three is the devil’s time.”

  Alyssa’s hand stopped mid-air. “As in 3:33 AM?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’ve been waking up for weeks at that time.”
<
br />   “That can’t be good,” Brandon said.

  Alyssa turned to get the ointment out of the medicine cabinet and something caught her eye. “Uh, you guys?”

  They looked at her as she pointed to the sink. There was water standing in it. She’d heard the constant dripping noise but hadn’t really paid any attention, until now. The water was going backward. Instead of it dropping into the sink, it was going up into the faucet.

  *

  Jane’s sobs had turned to hiccups when there was a knock. “If that’s the bimbo, God help her.” Reluctantly she opened the door and found Mrs. Pembroke standing on her stoop with a bottle in her hand.

  “My, my.” The elderly woman walked in. “Oh, baby, come here.” Mrs. Pembroke opened her arms and waited for Jane to enter before she hugged her close.

  Jane relaxed into her embrace, crying harder.

  “That’s a good girl.” Mrs. Pembroke patted her back. “Get it all out.”

  After a few minutes, she led Jane into the kitchen and sat her down in a chair at the table. She opened a new bottle of Jose Cuervo premixed Margaritas and retrieved two giant glasses from the cabinet. “Mr. Peepers got out again tonight. I have no idea how long he was scratching at the front door. I was just getting up to use the restroom when I heard it.

  “But when I opened the door, the slam of your front door startled him and he ran under the car. I had just gotten him in my arms when I looked up and saw your young man standing in the middle of the lawn, naked as the day he was born.” The woman filled each glass with ice.

  “Mind you, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a naked man in the flesh. I must say, he is quite the specimen.”

  Jane couldn’t help but laugh. “Mrs. Pembroke!”

  “What? I’m old, not dead. All that aside, you could do much better for yourself. I never liked that man, too slippery, too polished. You can’t trust a man who gets manicures. What about that nice man I met at your Christmas party, Tim, was it? Now he’s a nice young man.” Mrs. Pembroke pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to her.

  Jane blew her nose. “Tim’s my best friend. We dated in college, but it just didn’t work out. He’s gay.”

  “That’s too bad, because this other fellow is a real putz.” Mrs. Pembroke added.

  “You can say that again. I just never thought. . .I mean, I thought I was a better judge of character. My God, we’d only been together a year, how could he have been bored with me already?” Jane asked.

  Mrs. Pembroke took her hand. “Aw, honey, it’s not you, it’s him. Some men are just insecure. They need constant validation that they’re virile and attractive to the opposite sex. There are good men out there like my Mr. Pembroke, God rest his soul. Please don’t be disheartened. You are a beautiful, smart, independent woman that any man would be lucky to have.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Pembroke, I really appreciate you coming over tonight. It’s been a really bad day. My father was put in the hospital yesterday and this morning he’s having triple by-pass surgery.”

  “Oh, dear, you are having a stroke of bad luck. I’ll just be going then. Please let me know how things turn out.” Mrs. Pembroke got up from the table and made her way to the door. “You call if you need anything, you hear? I’ll pray for your father.”

  Jane hugged the tiny woman. “Thank you so much. I will.”

  Once she’d seen her out, Jane headed to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. No reason to try and sleep at this point. She grabbed the large box of trash bags she used for her yard clean-up and went directly to the bedroom. The sheets were the first to go.

  *

  By the middle of the following week, Jane’s home had been completely remodeled and Brad was a thing of the past. She’d purchased a new bed and repainted all the walls in her 1950s bungalow. She’d even gone so far as to switch her office with her bedroom; her desk now faced the front yard which was a pleasant change.

  She was grateful this had happened during summer break. That way she could throw herself into the project as a way of distracting herself from her broken heart. She needed time to grieve without worrying about teaching or dealing with her students at the university.

  Of course Tim helped immensely; she never would have finished without him. In fact, if not for his loving support she would have fallen apart completely and gained ten pounds in the process with the help of Ben & Jerry. Tim still stopped by daily even though the house was finished.

  Although still in the hospital, her father was coming along just fine. Now in a regular room, the doctors felt he should be able to go home soon. That was a blessing. Jane sat staring out her office window at the tree-lined street. A hummingbird flitted from flower to flower, its shiny blue feathers glistening in the sun.

  The call she’d received that morning had pushed all lingering thoughts of Brad from her head. This job was too exciting to not grab with both hands. The phone rang as she waited impatiently for Tim to pick up. “You are not going to believe who just called us!” Jane blurted out the second she heard his voice.

  Tim laughed. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who?”

  “Do you remember that news story a couple of years ago about the elderly woman who hung herself? The article said the whole thing was a mystery because no ladder could be found, yet there was no other evidence to confirm another person had been involved.”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “A woman who’s staying at that house contacted me. Her sister and brother-in-law inherited the house. They’re in the process of renovating and are experiencing a lot of activity. She wants us to come out and investigate.”

  “How did she get your number?” Tim asked.

  “She bought our book and noticed on the jacket cover that we worked at San Diego State University. She called the college and left her number with the secretary for me to call her back. I did, and that’s when she told me what’s been going on. I told her we’d be out tomorrow.” This was exactly what Jane needed right now.

  “Whoa, you already told her we’d take the job without consulting me first? Without seeing if Danny was available? What’s gotten into you? We don’t work that way.” Tim was clearly pissed.

  “I know and I’m sorry. It’s just that I was afraid she’d call someone else. I really need this, Tim. Besides, if half the stuff she said is true, it would make a great story for our second book. Please consider it.” With all her energy spent, Jane slumped back in her chair.

  “I know this is a tough time for you, but do you really think you’re strong enough to dive into an investigation? Between your father’s health and that dickhead, Brad, you’ve really been through the wringer,” Tim said softly.

  “No, I’m good. Dad’s going to be okay, and as far as Brad is concerned, I’m feeling better every day. Please, Tim, I don’t want this opportunity to pass us by. It’s a virgin hunt. No one has documented it yet. Come on, an opportunity like this comes by once in a lifetime,” Jane pleaded.

  Tim remained quiet. Jane imagined the wheels turning in his head as he mulled it over. “Okay, look, I’ll call Danny. Tomorrow’s Thursday and he usually works weekends. And if the surf’s up it may be difficult to sway him.”

  “Oh thank you, thank you,” Jane said.

  “Don’t thank me yet. I’ll call you back when I know something.” Tim hung up.

  Jane brought up the internet instantly and began her research. The home’s name alone sounded like a Gothic tale: The Haunting of Seacliff Manor.

  FOURTEEN

  Jane sat sideways next to Danny in his surf van while Tim sat in back as she read from her notes. She had compiled quite a lot of information for their newest investigation, which was a first.

  “Seacliff Manor was built by Captain Patrick MacDougall for his bride, Elizabeth “Bess” McKay of The Boston McKays, known for their wealthy shipping empire. He bought the land cheap in 1878 when it was predicted that San Diego would rival San Francisco’s trading port.

  “To prevent that from happenin
g, Charles Crocker, the manager of the Central Pacific Railroad, decided not to build an extension to San Diego. He feared that it would take away too much trade from San Francisco.

  “It wouldn’t be until around 1919 that a rail line was finally completed through San Diego’s own mountains to the east. But by then, Los Angeles had firmly established itself as Southern California’s transportation center. They even created a man-made harbor to steal commerce from San Diego’s natural deep-water port.

  “Therefore, Captain MacDougall was forced to continue carrying his goods to Boston Harbor and then on to the port of San Francisco, leaving his wife and growing family in what at the time was the Wild West. Bess was used to the city and all the comforts it provided.

  “The Captain knew he couldn’t keep his wife in the extravagant lifestyle to which she had been accustomed on his measly salary, so he used her dowry to build a home to rival the one she grew up in. Her yearly stipend paid for the running of that home, the servants, and so forth.

  “Not that he married her for her money. They were very much in love. If not for the fact that he was her father’s favorite employee, her father never would have given his blessing for them to wed. What’s truly sad is that he gave his wife everything he thought she needed, but the one thing she truly wanted was him.

  “He came home just long enough to get her pregnant before he was off again to the West Indies or some other far away port.

  In 1899 his ship was lost at sea. He was only fifty-one at the time. It’s rumored that on a clear night you can see Bess in the tower watching for her husband’s ship.

  “Bess gave birth to ten children, but two passed at a young age. David was five when he fell into a well and drowned. Grace was seven when she contracted scarlet fever.

  “In her later years, Bess MacDougall became known for giving lavish parties with such notable guests as benefactress Ellen Browning Scripps and her publisher brother, EW Scripps, as well as Charles Lindburg, and John D. Spreckles, the sugar heir.

  “With the revival of Spiritualism in the 1920’s when everyone was eager to speak with their dead husbands and sons after the Great War, Bess began holding séances so she could speak to her husband. A picture of one of these gatherings, featuring famed Boston medium Mina Crandonn appeared in the society papers in 1922.”