The Eton Bluff Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 4)

by Robin G. Austin

  “How about the Silvers? Have the police located them?”

  Zeda lifts her head again. She’s wearing heavy black eye makeup that has made its way to her cheeks. She and Todd exchange looks. Owen is looking at no one. Todd shrugs his shoulders. “We didn’t know they were missing. What happened?”

  “I have no idea. Why don’t you? I read a news report that said the police are looking for them and.…”

  The kids have gone from being terrified to amused. “Rice and Alice are our managing partners. Their job is to get investors to fund the business. In the tech startup game, you have to be discrete. Competition is fierce. If other startups knew who they were targeting, they’d pounce and try to steal the investors out from under us.”

  “Really?”

  “You betcha. They don’t even tell us where they are all the time, and we don’t want to know anyway. Who knows what would happen to us if a competitor got wind of it.”

  “That fierce?” I ask.

  “You betcha.”

  What I betcha is that one of those competitors helped Morgan out of the loft that day, or the Silvers need to be questioned in this alleged ghost murder. But why kill one of their partners?

  “So you don’t suspect anyone including the Silvers of foul play?” I ask.

  “Alice and Rice? Never,” Zeda says. “They’re like a mom and dad to us. They bought this barn and all the equipment and we’re going to make millions together. We’re family.” Zeda’s dabbing tears again. She’s beyond annoying.

  “Have you heard from the paranormal group you were working with?” I ask.

  Todd and Zeda look at Owen who’s back to picking lint. Todd sits up straighter then assures me he hasn’t. He also confirms that they’re the Spirit Searchers, and he doesn’t know if the police are looking for them. All he knows is that they showed up that night. “Right, Owen?”

  Owen looks up and shrugs. His eyes are darting and twitching. “I already told you I couldn’t stay all night. I let them in and had to leave.”

  Todd throws his head back but says nothing.

  “So they were in the barn one night and you haven’t heard back is all?” I ask. No one answers, but Owen’s nodding his head. I give up and ask what they think happened to Morgan.

  “Charlie,” Todd says, like I haven’t been listening to a word they’ve said.

  “Charlie sounds like a playful kind of spirit. It’s quite a leap to go from hiding your car keys to killing someone. Don’t you think?”

  “Playful is one side of him,” Owen says. His voice is the kind that hypnotists use: slow and deep, and possibly still medicated.

  “What’s the other side of him?”

  Owen and Todd exchange looks over Zeda’s head. Then Owen looks at the desk. Zeda’s writing on a notepad and ignoring everything. Just when Todd starts to say something, she throws down her pen and looks at the screen.

  “Charlie’s disgusting.” She looks at Todd then Owen. They nod for her to go on. She shakes her head no.

  “He’s got a…? A peculiar habit,” Todd says. Zeda gives him a dirty look. Owen’s zoned out. These three are draining my energy.

  Zeda leans so close to the monitor that I have to pull back. “He’s vile, Jackie. He decapitates spiders and leaves them in the most inappropriate places.”

  Chapter Five

  §

  Okay, I have to admit that my mind goes in a totally different direction when it hears the words, vile, disgusting, and crude. I also have to admit that at the exact moment I was ready to learn Charlie’s most scandalous secret, Mojo was decapitating a spider.

  Todd gives me his cell number and we agree that I’ll follow up with Loren about the trip. When I ask, Todd says he’ll check with the Silvers on how they came to purchase the barn. I end the call with ten minutes to find and drive to the Screamin’ Beans.

  I started to ask about the Ouija board incident but the more I watched Owen, the less I thought he could relive the experience. I’ve still got a very human element vibe going on about Morgan’s passing, one that probably has to do with the cold medication. Since there is still a detective on the case though, I wonder if the Silvers’ incognito quest for investors is their way of laying low.

  I’m less concerned about the paranormal group now, but their missing status and Todd’s and Owen’s exchange over their night in the barn is curious. I’m half way tempted to call the police myself about the group, but what would I say?

  Three people I’ve never met who haven’t answered my messages on their website are missing about a thousand miles from me after they agreed to search in a barn for a ghost named Charlie who likes to bite the heads off spiders?

  “Come on you vile wolfdog, we’re late for The Psychic Power Hour. If we’re lucky, they’ll get a half hour out of us today.” He couldn’t care less.

  I make it to the Screamin’ Beans in thirteen minutes. Libby is pacing in front of the shop. When she sees me, she comes running and almost gets hit by a car. The driver yells some choice words at her and she waves.

  When I step out of the jeep, she stops in her tracks. Another driver blasts his horn at her. She starts to say something as I approach, but I cut her off.

  “I’m getting a psychic vision,” I say, putting my hand to my forehead. “If you don’t calm down and watch where you’re going, you’re going to be road kill.”

  “You’re late,” she shouts. She’s doing the thing where she checks me out from head to toe then she does this criss-cross thing at me with her index finger. “We need you to....” Now she’s making wide circles with her hands. “To light up the room, to sparkle.”

  “I’m not a Christmas tree. Get some glitter if you want sparkle,” I say, walking past her and into the coffee shop. One foot in the place and I’m about to pass out. I’m a psychic empath, meaning that in crowds, I pick up every thought and emotion as if they’re a swarm of locus. This place is packed with emotional thinkers, and I’m sensing one massive explosion of my head is not far away.

  Dan’s sitting at the bar with a very happy looking proprietor standing behind the counter. As soon as my wannabe boss man sees me, he leaps off his stool and waves both arms in the air as though I’m sight challenged. I make my way through the hyper-caffeinated crowd. I can tell my late arrival isn’t an issue for them.

  “Jack, you’re finally here.”

  “I know.”

  “This is Veer Mattu. Veer, Jack Raven, psychic medium extraordinaire.”

  Veer is very happy. He’s trying to shake my hand off my arm and is thanking me for coming. I’m sure he’s thanking me for all the coffee drinks he’s sold and the empty pastry shelves.

  Dan’s left us to grab his microphone and announce my arrival. Libby’s standing in the corner with her arms crossed, looking upstaged by her boss. The local news camera is rolling on this big event. Not much goes on in Las Trebol.

  The crowd is swarming and rearranging their chairs to face my makeshift stage: a doormat and a tall stool. I still feel like I’m going to pass out. I must also look like I’m going to pass out because Dan is asking the crowd to be quiet so I can tune into the spirit realm. I fully expect Libby to jump up and rush the stage with a turban, a colorful one.

  I close my eyes and listen to the silence. As much as I don’t like climbing inside people’s minds, there’s no other way to do this little psychic show. I ask everyone to close their eyes and concentrate hard on a loved one who has passed. “Make sure it’s someone you want to connect with,” I say, and get a few laughs.

  “Okay, I’m being asked by a female to tell someone here that the guy is all wrong. She says if she could, she would smack him upside the head and back again. Is there a Larry or Leon—

  There’s a high-pitched scream and someone shouts, “Lars.” An impeccably dressed young man with perfectly combed hair has leaped out of his seat and is hopping up and down. “Granny Bess,” he yells. “Tell her I know. I know.”

  He puts the back of his hand to hi
s forehead and does a dramatic collapse into his seat. Two friends at his table comfort him. I close my eyes and hope they’re gone when I open them again. They’re not.

  “Anyone just have a minor car accident?” The room is silent, except for Lars. “I have an older male who is warning someone to slow down and stop trying to beat the red lights.”

  A hand goes up in the back of the room. A woman is cringing. She looks like she had a rough night.

  “He’s telling me that… something about a loan that you need to repay. Do you know a Sam or Sonny?”

  “Sonny. My father,” she says, and groans. “He hasn’t changed much in death.” The woman looks around, apparently for understanding, but only gets frowns.

  “Good guesses,” a man shouts. He’s well over six feet tall and has stringy black hair and arms covered with tattoos. “Anybody could have come up with those. The odds are on your side. Tell me who I’m wanting to connect with.” He does air quotes around connect with.

  The crowd is looking at him. Dan and Veer are looking uncomfortable.

  “All right. Just relax and give me a minute.” I take a deep breath and feel my talk radio show career dissolving before my eyes. I’m okay with that, more than okay with that. The crowd is silent, a clock ticks on the wall.

  “A female is coming through. She wants me to tell you that she’s shaking her finger at you so you know it’s her.” The man’s shoulder twitches an inch. “She wants to say she’s sorry for being so hard on you, but she didn’t know any better. It was hard for her too.” My stomach quivers. “Did she call you Johnny?”

  The man’s jerking his head around like he’s going into spasm. Finally, he practically pokes his eye out wiping it with his sleeve. “Yeah,” he says.

  “Johnny, she wants you to know that she’s watching over you.” He’s looking at the floor and walls and the ceiling now. Others in the room aren’t moving. “She wants you to take the garbage out more often and be nicer to… Jean?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Tell her I will.” The crowd erupts in applause.

  Another twenty minutes of tear jerking, heartbreaking disclosures, and I’m signing autographs and getting hugs. I’m not a hugger, especially of strangers. Veer gives me a handful of Get One Free coffee cards, and I’m finally as happy as everyone else.

  The crowd clears out and Dan is beaming. “We’ve got to take your show on the road. We’ll make millions.”

  “Sorry. I travel alone.”

  Dan’s got puppy dog eyes and is biting his lower lip. I get a glimpse of Libby still standing in the corner. She’s watching Dan with thoughts I’m glad I can’t hear.

  “Let me persuade you over dinner tonight. You need an agent, someone to book your shows, collect the admission fees. We’ll fill auditoriums. An hour or two of work, times seven, times—

  “Times nothing, Dan,” I say checking my phone messages. He’s gone to get paper and pen to add up his delusions of fortune.

  I have a message from Loren. About right now, I’d like nothing better than to leave town, alone. I wave to Libby and walk out the front door while listening to my message.

  Loren’s telling me how much the kids like me and can’t wait to meet me. She makes one more attempt to trade her wedding planner services for my ghost busting services then laughs. “Call me and let me know how soon you can be here,” she says, before disconnecting.

  “We’re going to Minnesota,” I tell the wolfdog as he climbs into the jeep. He isn’t impressed, but he’s happy to be leaving the Screamin’ Beans.

  I start the engine and go to leave then I shift back to park and replay Loren’s message. The woman has a tendency to ramble and I have a tendency to zone out when people do, but I’m sure I heard something about something the kids agreed would be best for their business.

  I fast forward and there it is. To anyone who asks, I should say I’m Spider Central’s spider exterminator. Perfect.

  Chapter Six

  §

  Being called a spider exterminator is better than being called a ghost buster, so I’ll live with the title. It’s not like I’m going to wear overalls or put a magnetic sign on the jeep. My profession comes with obstacles, which I usually try to walk around.

  When I get home, I see I have a message from Dan reminding me that we’re having dinner tonight. He says he’s already made a reservation at The Hibiscus for eight. Nice restaurant and very colorful. He says he’ll pick me up at seven. Crafty guy. I also have a call from Maybelle. My grandmother wants me to come over for dinner. Everyone is busy wanting to feed me.

  I’m feeling a little crafty myself, but first I have to send Loren my contract. Despite my misgivings about this job, the sooner I get out of town the better.

  I’m willing to accept that Loren is getting her information secondhand from three kids who might be brilliant coders, but are clueless otherwise. The Silvers could be making investor deals this very minute. The paranormal group could have spent a quiet night in the barn just before winning the lottery and are on some south island beach right now drinking Mai Tai’s. And the police could be ready to close their case.

  It’s unlikely anyone is investigating the disgusting spider decapitations. I admit these eight-legged stalkers are what convinced me to take the job. I send my email to Loren. I’ll wait for her to return the contract and make her payment. If it’s meant to be, and I don’t doubt it is, I’ll be on the road in the morning.

  But the night is still young. I call The Hibiscus and change Dan’s reservation to four then I gear up to call Maybelle to tell her to put on her dancing shoes.

  I’ve been avoiding my grandmother. Maybelle and I are not just related, we’re kindred souls. She’s been honing my psychic skills since I was a baby. She’s always been there for me, which is mostly a good thing. Now there’s a barrier between us that I don’t understand.

  I still haven’t asked her what she was thinking when she ran off to Las Vegas to marry TK Booker. She hasn’t offered what she was thinking either. Their match is a little like Pocahontas and a pig farmer. Nothing against pig farmers. Without them there would be no ham or bacon and I’m fond of both, but the match is strange. And Maybelle’s been acting strange ever since they came home. My foundation has been rattled and I’m not happy about it.

  Tonight, Dan isn’t going to be happy either and that makes me smile. He’s been trying to buy me dinner for two months now. He isn’t my type and not just because he thinks he’s my boss. I also know that Maybelle will put a swift end to his plans for a traveling psychic medium show. My grandmother does not believe our gift should be used for entertainment purposes.

  “What took you so long to call me back?” are the first words Maybelle says. She’s blind and her phone doesn’t have Braille, which she wouldn’t use even if it did. She likes to think she doesn’t need her eyesight to see.

  “I was working,” I say.

  “In town? At that radio station?”

  “No. At the Screamin’ Beans. I got a year’s worth of free coffee vouchers.”

  “Sounds like a good deal. Come for dinner at seven. We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “Is it seven?” Maybelle is a literal thinker.

  “Did something happen?”

  “Of course something happened. Something happens every second. Something is happening right now anywhere you go.”

  I give up. “We have s reservation at The Hibiscus. I’ll be by to pick you… and TK up at seven.”

  “The Hibiscus? The place with all the flowers? It’s too pink and smelly.”

  “The flowers are only on the walls. What you smell are the high prices and small portions.” This she thinks is quite funny.

  I don’t bother to tell her I agree about the pink or that she can’t see it anyway. There’s an awkward pause between us that’s keeping me silent, almost. “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “Is it seven? Why do we have to go to that place to waste money and still be hungry?”
>
  I tell her about Dan, his dreams of a speak to the dead world tour, and my needing support in convincing him it will never happen. This I think will have her fiercely on my side. She’s not buying it. “I’ll see you at seven,” she says, and hangs up on me.

  I can’t read Maybelle. She’s got a steel door to her mind. Plus, she’s a trickster. If she even thinks I’m trying to read her mind, she will fill it with things that will keep me up for weeks. She likes to challenge me though, see if I can slip under the steel door without getting crushed. She’s a very entertaining old woman.

  I brush a spider off my keyboard and check my emails. Loren’s already returned the contract and made her payment. For some reason, she sent me line by line directions that go from Las Trebol to Eton Bluff like it’s the 1970s.

  She included the address for two Best Western hotels, and the name and addresses of local restaurants, a theater, a dry cleaners– a business I’ve never once used– and a list of must-do’s while I’m in the Gopher State. The list includes going to the local Caribou Coffee shop, trying out ice fishing, and eating a Juicy Lucy, lutefisk, and Crapola.

  She also sent me a recipe for a fruit salad with jello and marshmallows, and five photos of spring and fall wedding dresses… just in case my situation changes. I doubt it will if I spend my time eating jello and marshmallows and Crapola, whatever that is.

  I leave Dan a message that I’ll meet him at the restaurant then spend the rest of the afternoon packing my things. Mojo’s excited to get going. I fear it has something to do with the lutefisk.

  When I pull into Maybelle’s driveway, I’m relieved at not seeing TK’s car, which is just selfish. My grandmother opens the door wearing her housecoat and slippers.

  “Sit,” she says, as I follow her to the kitchen. “We need to have the talk.”

  “It’s way too late for that,” I say. “Where’s TK? Maybe you two need the talk.”