“You have a point there, but I still wouldn’t call it a cursed spot. We may need to trouble shoot is all, find out the root of the matter. When we do, then we can solve it. Clean house, so to speak.”
“Is there anything you can do in the meantime?”
“Like smudge it with sage or something?”
Amber nodded. “If you could do something to clear the air, it’d make me feel better. Scott, too. He won’t admit it, but I can tell he’s scared his investment may go belly-up. And while Ash seems pretty cool about things, I do get the impression he’s not going to take failure very well.”
“I’ll stop by and see what I can do.”
“Thanks. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Anything for a friend. Or friends,” I corrected.
8
I closed my shop a bit early that evening — business was likely to be slow in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, anyway — and I called Roger and told him I wanted to visit Scott’s pub.
“Oh yeah, I heard he had a plumbing problem,” Roger said. “I wanted to stop by and see it myself. I was thinking of bringing a couple big industrial fans from my shop to help dry out the space.”
“How did you find out?” News sure spread fast in our town.
“Tom heard about it at the hardware store and stopped by my shop and told me.”
“Ah, Earl Simmons must have been there picking up parts, told Tom, and then …”
“Yup. At least Scott’s got a good plumber working for him. That guy’s the best in town. And his brother Dickie does good contractor work.”
“Is Scott going to need that?” I asked.
“He’s already got Dickie contracted for some other work, so he’ll be there to handle that if need be. How about I come pick you up in a few and we head there together after grabbing a bite?”
“How about you come get me at home? I need to feed and water the cats.”
“Will do. I’ll bring my pajamas, too.”
I laughed. “As if you’d wear them.”
“If only to go step outside and bring in the paper, sure.”
“That’s good to know. I don’t want you flashing your hot bod to the neighborhood. You might inspire the nurse next door who already has six kids to climb on her husband and get to making number seven, stat.”
“Six? They have six kids? Why so many?”
“Because they believe in God and not birth control.”
“Is that what you think?” Roger asked.
“No. It’s what they told me.”
“Six. Wow.”
“That’s what I think every time I see them. I also wonder how she can stand up.”
“Maybe that’s why they don’t have number seven yet. Though if you’re creative enough, that shouldn’t stop you.”
“I know it hasn’t stopped you yet,” I teased.
“Where do you want to eat?” Roger asked as he navigated his truck back to the downtown strip, one hand on the steering wheel and one on my knee.
“With the nip in the air, something comfort-foody sounds good.”
“How about Abner’s? They have the buffet, and good menu options, too.”
“I can get behind that.”
Twenty minutes later we were in line for the buffet. Earlier in the day, and not that long ago, either, Jordan had brought me back a sandwich from Emily’s Eatery — she had accurately foretold that I would want a turkey one with a bit of cranberry and cheddar after I had thought of Tom’s turkey — but I found myself hungry once again. I suspect that was due to the cold temperatures and that instinct to fatten up a bit like a bear facing the winter.
I tried to be dainty and take a bit of this and a little of that onto my plate, but Abner’s buffet is long and loaded with temptations. By the time we made it back to our table it looked like we hadn’t eaten for three days and were making up for lost time.
I spooned some split pea soup and took in Roger’s handsome countenance.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he said, his eyes bright, as he popped a fried shrimp into his mouth.
“I was just thinking how appetizing you look,” I smiled, “and how I should have showed you how appealing I find you the second you arrived at my door a half hour ago.”
“I’m open to a raincheck. You can show me later. Heck, if you want, we can slip away to the restroom and you can show your appreciation there.”
For a second I thought he was joking, but the look in his eyes told me he was keen for the diversion.
I laughed, the idea not sounding too bad.
“Or,” he leaned closer, “we can order something to go, and amuse ourselves in my truck for the next twenty or so minutes. I’m open to suggestions. The sexier and sweatier the better.”
“And you’re open to something suggestive, too,” I teased.
“Damn straight.”
The waitress drew near, refilling people’s glasses with iced teas and soda pops.
“I can flag her down right now and get this show on the road.” Roger gave me a lascivious wink.
I demurred. “No, let’s catch up on our days and we can fool around later.”
“And often.”
“Most definitely often,” I nodded.
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“And I’ll gladly let you.”
“So, to focus on less prurient thoughts — before my pants start to feel a bit tight in one particular location — Tom was telling me earlier that Fiona thought Scott’s brewpub was cursed? Or the building was? I wasn’t exactly clear on that.”
“I’m not exactly, either. I know Mom believes there’s something hinky about something there. Whether it’s the building, or something in the building, I’m not sure. But she did get a bad vibe after that room was discovered.”
“You kind of did, too. You mentioned smelling something off, like hot metal, you said.”
“I did,” I agreed. “I don’t know why I thought of that either, but it came to me. It just seemed like something was angry or disappointed or thwarted. I’m not sure exactly what was coming through there, but I did sense a strong sadness.”
“Are you going to try and find out what it is?”
“Mom and I had thought about doing that.” I told him about Amber’s visit, and her fears.
“What would you do with a cursed location or cursed object?”
“It depends. I’m still not sure the site is cursed. But I think something unhappy is connected to the spot. It’d be nice to find the source of the slight. That would be easiest to fix. Maybe, anyways.”
“How would you find out?”
“I might do a bit of psychic dowsing, see if anything becomes apparent. I also might just venture to the historic society to see if I can get more background on the location. Probably both,” I smiled.
“If you do go to the historic society, the director can be a good source of information, but he’s a bit …,” Roger struggled to come up with the right word.
“Eccentric?” I asked.
“No. He’s a bit … well, more than a bit … of a perv.”
“How so?”
“My mother has dealt with him before. She calls him Lester the Lech.”
“That speaks volumes,” I laughed.
“He’s been known to hover behind women as they sit down and do research. Sometimes brush against them in, um, certain ways, if you know what I mean.”
“So I should bring Vanessa along, is what you’re saying?”
“You could, but that would just be twice as nice for him. I guarantee he’ll try and get fresh with you. Maybe I should go with you.”
“I can take care of myself. I could actually bring Vanessa and we could doubly confound him. Or I could bring Mom and she’d set him in his place. Whatever she deems inappropriate, she’ll strike out against.”
“Oh, he’d hit on Fiona, too. Especially since she likes to wear skirts. He might try and direct her toward a fan in the hopes it’ll blow up.”
Roger nodded, his face earnest. “He did that to my mother once. Had a floor fan that he ‘accidentally’ kicked on right while she was walking near.”
“I think I’ll be sure to wear pants then.”
“I think that would be a good idea.”
“What about you? Should I be worried about my virtue around you?”
“Yes. And often. But I promise to make it worth your while.”
“You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”
9
We arrived at Scott’s, unsure if he’d still be there, but he was. I’d opted to pick up some carry-out munchies for him and Amber, since Abner’s also let customers take home food from the buffet by the pound.
When we got there, Roger lugged in two large industrial fans and brought them inside.
“Hey, friend,” he said, setting the equipment down. “I brought these along in case you needed extra drying power.”
Scott turned, the look on his face one of gratitude. “Thanks, dude. I could use those. It’s better in here now, but not totally dry in all spots.” He claimed one and motioned for Roger to follow. “We can set these up in the women’s bathroom and it’ll be a big help.”
“I also brought some stuff from Abner’s,” I offered, holding the box up for Scott and Amber. “Just some comfort food, should you need it. And a few cookies I made the other night.”
“Oh, are there chicken wings?” Scott asked, putting Roger’s fan down a little too roughly and bounding toward the white Styrofoam container. “Awesome.” He took a bite and moaned in pleasure. “They make the best chicken wings.”
Amber, curious, came over and plucked one out for herself. “Oh, they are good! Why haven’t you taken me there?”
Scott shrugged. “I don’t know. There are so many places around town it’s hard to choose and sometimes it can get easy to overlook a spot.”
“You’re not from around here, then,” I said, leveling my gaze at Amber. “Where are you from?”
“Mackinaw City.”
“She’s officially a troll,” Scott laughed, bringing up the old joke that anyone who lived in the Lower Peninsula lived “under” the Mackinac Bridge, and therefore was a troll.
“If you’re still finding that goofy joke funny, then you’re obviously smoking too much weed. I may have to take your stash and flush it,” Amber warned.
“Oh, baby …,” Scott mock pleaded. “Then you’d be depriving yourself. We don’t want that.” He bowed forward reverently. “Troll? Did I say troll? I meant my Mackinaw City goddess.”
“That’s more like it,” Amber smirked.
A moment later the pair were back to noshing while Roger and I surveyed the mess.
“Looks like some floor damage,” Roger said, as he and I returned and sat by Amber and Scott.
“A bit,” Scott agreed. “We’ll have to dry it out and re-tile that area. Earl Simmons installed a new toilet and sealed it up good, so hopefully that problem is in the rearview.”
“Hopefully,” Roger agreed.
“Did you have Earl take a look at the other plumbing fixtures to see if anything looked off?” I asked.
Scott stopped eating, and looked at me. “I did. He thinks everything looks in good shape … “
A splashing sound interrupted him. The faucet behind the bar had begun spraying water. Roger dashed over and turned off the valve. I unrolled a few paper towels and began dabbing him and then the counter dry.
“Thanks,” Scott said as he went and looked at the faucet. “That was fine earlier. We just installed that, too.” He grew quiet for a moment and turned his hazel gaze toward me. “You wouldn’t happen to have some sage on hand, would you?”
“I do,” I said, “and I was thinking of looking around and seeing if anything, any ‘energy’, I guess you could call it, seemed off, and then go from there. I think my mother wants to look around, too.”
“Have at it. By all means, have at it,” Scott said.
Roger took off his jacket, setting it in a booth as he stood. “Since we’re here, how about I put in a couple of these light fixtures for you? Poppy wants to look around and I want to make myself useful in my own way.”
“Have at it, friend,” Scott said, standing and wiping his hands on a napkin. “Let me wash this sauce off my hands — in the bathroom — and we’ll team up on it. Then I’ll try taking a look at this here faucet.”
As the men folk began their work I headed toward the stairs to explore the basement a bit more.
I paused at the top of the stairs and reversed tracks. “Scott. Do you have any lemons?”
“In the fridge, sure. How many do you need? I also have iced tea, beer, and club soda. Help yourself.”
“I just need a lemon. Just the rind, actually,” I said, retrieving the fruit in question. I set it on the counter and removed the peel. “This is a nice and fragrant one.”
“What are you planning to do,” Amber asked while nibbling on a breaded shrimp.
“I’m going to use it to see if I can get some answers.” I began walking toward the steps that led to the basement.
She hopped off her stool and followed me downstairs, wiping her hands on her jeans. I smiled. I liked the casual and non-fussy attitude.
“Do you think something is written in invisible ink or something down here?” she asked.
“No. Sometimes you can use lemon to attract ghosts. They’re supposed to like the smell, so I thought I’d see if it draws anything.” I stepped into the rediscovered room — enough of the fallen bricks had been moved off to the side so I could go inside again — and took a pen knife from my pocket. I began scraping the rind to intensify the scent.
I waved it around and focused. I didn’t feel anything. I decided to change my tack. I began laughing, loudly, and stopped when Amber shot me a strange look.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nothing really. Just sometimes you can draw ghosts with laughter.”
“Is that what you do at your shop? Slice lemons and laugh?” She had a glimmer in her eye as she posed the question.
I shook my head. “No. I have my oils, a gazing ball, candles, et cetera, there, but I didn’t bring anything here tonight. This is just another approach. Lady Silvia told me not long ago that ghosts like the smell of lemon and are drawn to laughter, so I thought I’d give it a go. Unless she was playing a prank on me. Knowing her, that is a distinct possibility, but she has provided me with some helpful suggestions before.”
Amber gave a shrug. “It can’t hurt. Maybe doubling the laughter will be more alluring.”
I smiled. “Okay, then on the count of three, let the cackling commence…”
A few seconds later we began laughing. It was forced and I wasn’t sure it would work, but seeing Amber cracking up in a theatrical way with her eyes comically wide gave rise to a real case of the giggles, and when she spied me laughing away, she began chuckling in earnest, too. She grabbed some of the lemon peels and began flinging them willy-nilly around the room. That just made me laugh all the harder. Soon we were breathless and gasping for air.
“Do you see anything?” she asked, her eyes darting warily around the mostly enclosed space.
“No, I don’t think — ” I paused when I saw something shimmering near where the safe stood. It was a youngish woman with long dark hair piled high on her head with a few stray tendrils framing her face — the hair almost looked auburn, I thought to myself — and she looked like she’d come out of some PBS drama that boasted high teas and stiff upper lips. After a moment’s reflection, I thought it was the woman whose countenance I had spied in the locket. That portrait had been tiny and in black-and-white, so I wasn’t sure, but that seemed the most likely suspect as far as I was concerned.
“Hello,” I said.
She shimmered a bit brighter.
“I’m Poppy. I’m a witch, and I can see ghosts. And this here is Amber. She’s going to be running the place with her boyfriend Scott
when they get it ready. They’re brewing their own beers to sell on site.”
The ghost stood mute, then shimmered a bit more. “Her hair is a strange color,” she said, pointing at Amber.
I looked to Amber and then back to the ghost. “Yes, it’s unusual.”
“She must have commented on my hair,” Amber said.
“She did.” I turned back to the ghost. “How about you tell me your name?”
“Your hair is a strange color, too,” the ghost continued. “Are you fairies?”
I shook my head. “No, we’re not fairies.”
“The way you’re dressed, too, with trousers and no corsets. It’s not very ladylike.”
I could see that. The woman’s style of attire must have been at least a century old, with her skirts brushing the floor.
“Amber,” I started, keeping my eyes on the apparition, “can you go to that box we found in the safe and pull out that locket?”
“Sure.”
“What year do you last remember?” I asked the ghost.
“I’m not sure,” she offered. “I remember it was after the war.”
“The first World War? Or were there Nazis involved?”
“If you mean the Great War when you refer to the first world war, I do remember that. Ernest died a year before the Archduke was assassinated.”
“So, World War I,” I said.
“I suppose. Now that you mention it, I do remember Nazis, and that the Nips were bombed. I believe that conflict ended not long after that.”
“The Nips?” The term was new to me.
“The Nips?” Amber asked.
“The ghost mentions Nazis and the Nips being bombed.”
“Oh.” Amber’s gaze turned dark. “That’s one way they referred to the Japanese back then.”
“Yes, the Nips or the Japs,” the ghost added.
“Did the ghost just say Nips and Japs?” Amber asked.
I nodded. “You can hear her now?”
“Faintly. I can’t see her, though.” Even if Amber wouldn’t see the spirit, she narrowed her eyes in the direction I’d been speaking. “I don’t like hearing either term. My grandmother’s Korean, and while there are different slurs leveled at Koreans, she was called a Nip, a Jap, and a Gook more than once.” She paused, taking in a deep breath. I was about to say something but she held up a hand to still me, then continued. “I don’t like it, but I understand it was the times.”
A Spot of Bother Page 6