I add the mini-bar snacks to my backpack and lie down for a few hours of sleep. When I wake up, I’m confused. The room is too dark to see anything and for a moment, I’ve forgotten where I am– the hazards of having a wanderlust career. Once I figure it out, I realize my alarm didn’t wake me. I’m sure I set it for nine o’clock but it’s already eleven.
This is a bad sign that I don’t take lightly. I consider going to the barn another night, but I don’t have the luxury of putting it off. When I’m up and the light is on, I have a momentary panic attack. The wolfdog is nowhere in sight. I find him curled up at the door.
“What are you doing?” He stretches and looks at the door. “You should have woken me. We’re two hours late.”
It takes me nearly a half hour to find a place still open where I can get coffee. The clerk at the convenience store refuses to fill my thermoses due to health regulations, and I have to buy seven paper cups so I can fill them in the parking lot.
“You know our feet print are all over global warming, right?” I tell him. He tells me there’s no global warming in Minnesota.
It’s a quarter after midnight when I stop the jeep in front of the barn. Mojo leaps out and takes off running. I call him back and he looks confused. “We’re working,” I say, and he looks guilty.
The day was pleasantly warm and unpleasantly humid; now it’s chilly with a restless breeze. Outside, I walk around the barn with my flashlight trying to get a sense of the energy. The place is alive with creatures that don’t like me or the wolfdog intruding on their space.
I’m enjoying their squeaks and squeals and rustling of leaves when a colony of bats attack. One bumps the back of my head and I take off running to the barn’s door. Mojo lets out a piercing werewolf howl, and they answer with screeches before disappearing into the black sky. Another very bad omen.
The door groans as I pull it open, something I hadn’t noticed in the light of day. I shine my light inside. Something, more than one something, scurries in the hay. They really should sweep these floors.
“Hello?” I yell, and don’t know why I do, other than the desire to send the rodents to their nests as well as break up the heavy energy that is stuck in these walls with my stellar self-confidence. Mojo pushes past me and goes to sniff around the east corner. It’s as good a place to start as any, but not before I turn on light bulbs strung from their wire hangers. How did this place ever pass a fire inspection?
Once my smudge stick is burning, I throw some rock salt while stomping my feet and kicking the hay free of critters. Not a single spider crawls out. The smell of peppermint in the corner is overwhelming. I get uncomfortable on the bale of hay. Mojo has gone to find a less minty area.
I close my eyes and say a prayer to the Great Spirit while trying to center my mind. Just as I start to ask if a spirit is present, I see a face so vivid in my mind I have to look around. It wasn’t really a face, but two dark as coal eyes that seemed to be looking at me. Two very frightened and desperate eyes waiting in the dark. I try again to center myself.
“If there is a spirit here, know that I’m here to help you crossover. Argus Pudge—
I hear a squeak that I think is the barn door opening. I’m up and walking in its direction. My heart is beating out of my chest. The living terrify me at times. Mojo is sitting on the bale of hay beneath the loft while staring at the closed door. The old iron rod is fully engaged. The wolfdog isn’t doing his ghost pose, but he’s acting a little strange, and I’m letting this old barn spook me.
I take the smudge stick and walk around, stopping to toss grains of rock salt for protection, at least from the dead. Then I walk back to the east corner and close my eyes.
“Shhh.” I hear in every direction and bite my lower lip.
“Fear opens the demon’s portal.” These are Maybelle’s words whispered in my ear.
“I’m listening, Argus. You have my full attention. I’ve come to help you crossover. Speak and I will hear you.”
“Be a quiet little mouse.” I jump, not out of fear but because the voice is female, and that voice is just inches away from me. I get a prickly sensation on the top of my head as I look around again.
“Okay, I will,” I whisper. “Tell me your name. I can hear you. You can speak to me.”
“Another over me for the last time.”
This is whispered so clearly I expect to see someone standing next to me. Mojo is asleep on the bale of hay beneath the loft. The string of light bulbs is swaying even though there’s no breeze in the barn. Edith? She didn’t die here, and I seriously doubt she’s come back to haunt the place.
“Tell me your name. I can hear you.”
“What are you doing here?”
Something crashes across the room. I’m up again trying to walk away my jittery nerves. I go back to the east corner and for the next half hour, I ask and listen and wait, but the woman doesn’t whisper another word.
Fear not only opens a demon’s portal, it can chase away a timid spirit. The frightened woman appears to be gone, and I have a pressing urge to run out the door and through the field. I give up to write what she said in my notepad. Words that both delight and confuse me.
What’s going on here? I may have been so distracted by Argus’ tragic end that I missed learning of another poor spirit trapped in these walls. But whose? The kids think it’s a male energy. I don’t think there is any basis for that other than the spider decapitations.
I re-read her words. Be a quiet little mouse. Sounds like someone who didn’t want to get caught lurking in the barn. Another over me for the last time. That sounds like the lovers’ triangle. It may also confirm Grace’s story that Edith tried to shoot her before Argus stepped in and took a bullet below the belt.
What are you doing here? Who? Did another person show up that night? Was she just repeating what Argus or Grace said? Or was she talking to me?
Since there was no reaction when I spoke, I’m going to assume the words were nothing more than residual energy. That’s exactly what I sensed in the photos. It’s also what the kids experienced in hearing the gunshot the night they used the Ouija board. I’m still betting that Argus is my ghost, and that I’ve managed to stir up a replay of the final moments here that night.
A person doesn’t have to die to leave their residual energy behind, but for sixty years? It would take intense trauma and a lack of activity in an area to hold the energy that long. Chopping off a head is traumatic; the barn’s been boarded up for years. My bet is on residual energy.
Then again, the woman’s words could have nothing to do with Argus, and this barn is holding tight to more than one tragic tale. I go outside to clear my head, which is spinning mental crop circles. Nothing makes it more difficult to release a spirit to the afterlife than being dead wrong about who’s dead and still hanging around.
I stop at the jeep before going back inside and see a note stuck on my windshield. Name your price. I like the offer, but who’s making it? Guess I’m supposed to call the number to find out.
Chapter Twenty Two
§
It’s seven in the morning when I leave the barn. I got uncomfortable in every corner in the place and even spent some time in the loft. Too much time actually because once again, I fell asleep up there. Sleeping on the job is something I never do.
I left the barn feeling groggy and decided the air quality is at least part of my problem with the place. I also decided Argus’ grisly ending all but guarantees he’s the spirit haunting the barn.
I considered calling the number on the note that was under the windshield wiper of the jeep, but never did. The lingering energy from it was hostile, and I was frustrated with my lack of progress on this job.
I tried to convince myself that I missed seeing the note before coming out to the barn. I’d shined the flashlight in search of tire tracks and decided there weren’t any new ones, only because I didn’t want to believe that someone followed me out there. Someone who is keeping track of me– besides Coleman who I
doubt is trying to pay me off.
Since there was no more whispered words and Argus never revealed himself, I pondered what Todd said about Argus not always being in the barn. If what Todd thinks is true, I have a feeling I know where Argus’ spirit goes.
After I drive into town for coffee and breakfast, I head back to Hedge Road. I’ve already searched online to see if there is any news about the skull in the hole. There isn’t. I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not that the press lost interest so quickly. If it wasn’t for Grace’s comment about the head finally being found, I’d wonder if it was Argus’ after all.
When I get to the north end of the field, I park on the side of the road and start walking. A few yards in, I can see the police tape has taken a beating. The grass is packed down from the police activity and maybe the curious who came to see where the ancient skull was found. Farther in, there are four cones placed around the hole, tied together with more yellow police tape warning not to cross.
I drag a log to sit on and throw some rock salt. With my eyes closed, I reach my hand over the hole. “To the spirit whose remains were found here, if you are still earthbound, please make your presence known. I will help you go to the light if you’ll just give me a sign you’re here.”
When my arm gets tired of reaching over the hole, I rest it in my lap and feel something on my hand. I’m not in the best of moods and am ready to decapitate myself a spider when I see not one but a dozen hairy creatures all over me. I’m up and jumping around. Mojo comes running and catches two, which he delivers at my feet.
“If you find that amusing,” I say to the spirit, “I assure you it is not. You can talk to me, but leave your spiders out of the conversation. I get the decapitating, but why spiders? If you’re Argus Pudge, I thought you like the creatures. Why don’t you explain it to me? I’m listening.”
Actually, I’m walking around brushing off invisible crawly things when my phone rings. It’s Detective Coleman. I completely forgot about her wanting to wire me for the insurance investigator’s meeting with the Silvers today. I let it go to voicemail and consider the consequences of ignoring her. Not that the police can force my participation, but the woman can, and likely will, make not cooperating unpleasant by taking even more of my time with her undercover exterminator missions.
The wire job matter is settled. I have work to do and it doesn’t include working for the police department. Why not just use an undercover cop? Provided one will work with the woman. I have my doubts.
I still feel sticky, hairy legs on me as I head to the jeep. I’m going back to the barn, but first I’m calling the mystery note writer. The phone rings three times and I’m close to hanging up.
“Hello, Ms. Raven.”
Three words and I don’t doubt who’s on the other end of the phone. “Hello. Is this the person leaving notes on my vehicle?”
“One note. This is Diana Edwards. Meet me in the Starling Lounge on Reynolds at eight.”
“About?”
“You read the note. It’s a business matter that I think you’ll be interested in.”
Diana disconnects before I have a chance to tell her I’m not interested in doing business with her. Name my price? My price is high. I want the barn haunter’s name and the real story about what happened that night.
I have a feeling Diana plans on paying in cash. But why pay at all? And who else has the woman paid off? More importantly, I wonder what I’m going to get for my time because my services can be bought, but I can’t.
After checking the location of the Starling Lounge, I see it’s only ten minutes from the hotel. I decide I can spare a half hour because almost any information about this job is better than none.
I turn off Hedge Road to the barn. It’s almost nine and the Spider crew’s vehicles are parked on the side of the barn. Once inside, I’m met with much enthusiasm, apparently because I survived the night.
After telling them about hearing a woman’s voice and what was said, they give each other puzzled looks. They’ve already told me that the strange noises they’ve heard don’t sound like voices, not even the muffled voices that Calvin mentioned.
They insist that the spirit has to be male because of the spider decapitations. I think any woman who could chop off another person’s head wouldn’t be squeamish about spiders, but I don’t share.
They again confirm that they know nothing about Edith Pudge, and say they don’t know of any woman who was murdered in the barn. I tell them I have research to do and head to the door.
Todd yells as a reminder that the Silvers and a business partner are having a private meeting at one o’clock, and that the barn is off limits until they’re done. They never told me about the meeting and I’m seriously doubting that they think they did, especially since all three are avoiding looking at me.
I skip telling them of my offer to play a wired undercover spider exterminator and say I’ll see them later. Then I pull the barn door open, right into Detective Coleman’s face.
She points her finger at me and gives me a threatening glare. “Why didn’t you return my call?”
“What call?” I say, and try to keep walking, but she’s blocking me.
“You need to be at the station at noon so we can go over the plan and get you wired.”
“I never agreed to your plan or your wiring,” I say, and step around her.
“It doesn’t matter. You have no choice. I did a little checking on you Raven, and I don’t like what I found. I suggest you cooperate.”
“What did you find that you don’t like?”
“Nothing about exterminations.”
“Right.”
Coleman has her arms folded across her chest. I’m not sure if she’s bluffing or if she really did check up on me. “I’ve got work to do.”
“Wait, no please. I need your help.” Coleman’s aura is back to glowing magenta with hazy, dirty yellow. She’s worried about something that’s her own doing. I almost feel sorry for her, but not quite.
“Detective, I’m not being your spy. I’m not wearing a wire. What you’re asking a civilian to do is inappropriate. If you ask again or seek revenge for my not participating, I’ll file a complaint with your Chief and the District Attorney.”
I have no idea what I’m talking about and I certainly don’t have the time or the desire to file complaints with anyone, but I sound good. Coleman deflates. Her shoulders fold in and her rebel magenta turns a wispy gray.
“I’m sorry. I can’t be part of this investigation. I’m sure you can do this without me.” I think I’ve left her behind as I go to get in the jeep.
“Fine,” she yells, trailing after me. “I’ll make a note in your file. Not cooperating with the police is suspicious. This isn’t over Raven. Not by a long shot.”
After a shower and change of clothes, I go to the Cut and Shave to see the only person who has given me half a clue about what went on that night. Russ is busy working and laughing with a customer. He does a double take when I walk in. The customer gets quiet. I sit down in one of the chairs that are lined up in front of the window.
Russ starts to say something then shakes his head. I flip through one of many hunting magazines on a side table. The carcasses of beautiful furry animals spin my psychic senses in circles. If only the hunters knew that the spirits of those wild creatures will cling to them for years, they might not smile so wide.
The customer pays and gives me a friendly nod before walking out the door. Russ goes back to his barber chair and turns it towards me. “What can I do for you now?” he says.
“Buy you lunch?” I ask.
Chapter Twenty Three
§
Russ tells me he’ll be done for the day at four, and we agree to meet at the diner down the street. That will give me plenty of time to meet Diana at eight, and maybe time enough to find out something about the woman before I do.
When I walk out of the barber shop, I see Detective Coleman drive by. I know it’s her because she’s lea
ning forward and looking out the passenger window. I wave and she looks away in time to slam on her brakes and avoid running a red light. The woman probably needs to be in a different profession. If she keeps stalking me, I may have to make that complaint so she doesn’t end up killing an innocent pedestrian.
As soon as I get back in the jeep, I call Grace. A woman answers who I’m sure is the housekeeper. I leave my name and number and ask her to remind Ms. Parker that we need to finish her interview.
No matter what Diana is planning for me, I want to take Grace back to the barn, though I doubt that’s the smartest decision I’ll ever make. Things could get dangerous, and the woman may end up needing protection that I’ll have my hands too full to provide.
Loren calls as soon as I disconnect. She’s thrilled I survived the night unscathed and disappointed that Argus was a no-show. I tell her about the voice, and she says she knows nothing about any woman who may have died in the barn. She’s disappointed that I won’t be going to the Silvers’ meeting, but agrees it’s not time well spent. I think she would agree with just about any position I took. She’s definitely the nicest person I’ve ever met, but chatty too.
First she wants to know if I’ve been eating at the Best Western and if I’ve had Caribou coffee. Then she launches into a story about her newest wedding planning job including more details than I ever wanted to know about the dress and cake and venue and bridesmaids and the mother. Just when I think my head will explode, she says, “So you’ve never married?”
“Just lucky,” I say, and tell her I have to get back to work. She tells me it’s never too late to find true love and warns me the venue she just described in great detail has a one year waiting list. “Don’t wait too long,” she says. We end the call with me thinking she wasn’t just sharing but trying to sell me her services.
I get lunch and drive to the nearest park to clear my head and let Mojo chase squirrels. Then I get out my laptop and search for Argus and Edith Pudge and Grace Parker with no better results than last time.
The Eton Bluff Haunting (Jack Raven Ghost Mystery Book 4) Page 11