by Terri Reid
“Exactly what I thought,” Dean replied. “It was like it had been spiritually swept clean.”
“Well, that’s interesting,” Ian said.
“Kathi told me that someone got quite a bit of great information,” Mary said, looking puzzled. “If you guys got nothing at all, how could they get great stuff?”
“Well, it will be interesting to see what they got,” Dean replied. “Maybe I can see if Kathi will tell me which of the groups found something.”
“Yeah,” Dee agreed. “I’d be really interested to see it.”
“You’re really a nice guy,” Dean said to Dee. “Not at all like Sven.”
Dee shrugged. “Well, you know, Sven’s got his own personality.”
“Well, he’s not real popular with most of the other groups,” Dean admitted, shaking his head. “But, I mean, for your sake I’m sorry about your show.”
“My show?” Dee asked.
“You know, don’t you?” Dean replied, horrified. “You didn’t know. He didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?” Dee asked, his stomach twisting in knots.
“The network is cancelling you,” he said. “They’ve put feelers out with a bunch of us to replace you guys next season. That’s why the asylum was so important. We were supposed to use that experience as an audition tape.”
Shocked, Dee looked over to Ian. “I can’t believe…” he stammered.
“We should go,” Mary inserted, wrapping her arm through Dee’s. She turned to Dean. “Thank you. Thanks a lot. And I really wish you and sister well.”
They guided Dee back across the room to their tables just as the second speaker began.
“I can’t believe it,” Dee whispered as he slowly sat down in his chair, stunned by the revelation. “I just can’t believe Sven would do this to me.”
Bradley placed his hand on Dee’s shoulder. “I’m going back to the hotel to have a conversation with Sven,” he said. “Maybe there’s been a mistake. You stay here, protected. You’re still in danger.”
“I might as well be dead,” Dee muttered.
A booklet flew off the table and slapped the side of Dee’s face. He suddenly grinned and nodded. “Sorry, Ma,” he said. “Bad choice of words. I didn’t mean it.”
“That’s right you didn’t,” Gwen said, placing the booklet back on the table. “And I will slap you harder if you say anything like that again.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Rosie entered the bathroom that was just outside the large conference room. It had two rows of stalls and a large vanity that held six sinks. It reminded her of the bathrooms at an airport, it was so roomy. There was already a crowd gathered around the vanity, so she slipped into a stall, closed the door and listened.
“Where did he say he was from?” one woman asked.
“Fart,” another one giggled. “Can you believe it? Fart? That’s so funny.”
“No, I mean, originally.” the first one said. “What was his accent? Australian?”
“Oh,” the second one said. “I don’t know, he kind of sounded Australian.”
“No. No,” a new voice offered. “He sounded like Benedict Cumberbatch. So, he has to be English.”
“Who’s Benedict Cumberbatch?” the second one asked.
The tsks of disgust were audible all the way to the stall where Rosie stood, and she covered her mouth to hold back a chuckle.
“He’s Sherlock,” the first woman replied with disdain.
“And he’s Smaug,” the third woman inserted. “You know, from The Hobbit.”
“Oh,” the second woman replied. “Of course. I guess I forgot his name.”
“Besides,” another new voice added. “He didn’t sound like any of them. He sounds like David Tennant.”
“Who?” the first woman asked.
“Dr. Who, Broadchurch, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire,” the new voice replied.
“Was he in all of those?” the second voice asked. “I still don’t know who he is and what he sounds like.”
There was a long pause and then a stifled sigh. “Sean Connery,” the new voice suggested with a sigh.
“Oh, yes, you’re right,” the first voice agreed. “He did sound like Sean Connery. So, what is that?”
“Scottish,” the new voice responded.
“Scottish, like men wearing kilts?” the second one asked with a soft giggle.
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” the first one acknowledged. “Kilts.”
Rolling her eyes, Rosie let herself out of the stall, walked around the group of ladies, quickly washed her hands and left the bathroom.
“There won’t be any interesting gossip found in there,” she muttered to herself, “until the presence of Ian wears down.”
She walked back into the conference room and glanced at the table where they set up. All of the group was back, gathered around Stanley.
“How did it go in there?” Stanley asked loudly, nodding towards the bathrooms.
“Stanley, you don’t ask someone that with other people standing around,” Mary said, jumping to her friend’s defense.
Rosie giggled. “Oh, dear, no,” she said. “He didn’t mean it that way.” She paused and cocked her head as she pondered for a moment. “Well, actually he did mean it like that, because I did go to the bathroom. But, I didn’t really go to the bathroom, if you get what I mean.”
Mary shook her head slowly. “I have no idea what you just said,” she admitted.
“Well,” Rosie explained, slowing her words down for Mary’s sake. “I went to the bathroom, but I didn’t have to go to the bathroom.”
She smiled at Mary. “Better?”
“Dagnabbit, Rosie,” Stanley grumbled. “Get to the point.”
“Oh, well, there was no good gossip in the ladies’ room about the other teams,” Rosie said. “They were all still too wrapped up in talking about Ian.” She sighed heavily. “I admit, it’s probably my fault. I suggested the black shirt, and boy, did that work. They didn’t even mind the name of our team.”
“They were pretty taken then,” Mary said with a grin.
Nodding, Rosie walked around the table and sat down next to Stanley. “I finally decided to leave when they started talking about Ian in a kilt,” she explained, shaking her head. “I just didn’t want to be there if they decide to explore all of the ramifications of that choice of clothing.”
“Ramifications?” Stanley asked. “What ramifications? The man’s wearing a skirt.”
Ian leaned over, winked at Rosie and then turned to Stanley. “It’s not the skirt,” he said with a smile. “It’s what’s underneath.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The audience went back to their seats as the next team took the stage for their presentation. Ian slipped in next to Dee behind the Ghost Discoverers table and moved the monitor around to face him.
“Do you mind if I go through some more of the film from the asylum?” he asked Dee.
“No, that would be great,” he said. “If you see anything paranormal, you might be able to save my job.”
Ian glanced around and then surreptitiously slipped earbuds in so he could listen to the audio.
Mary looked up at the speakers, a middle-aged couple who performed paranormal investigations on homes in their small farm community. Currently they were showing photos of some shadowy images inside the old barn. The crowd fell into an excited hush when they started the EVP of the barn. Static-filled, barely discernable noises could be heard in the background.
The woman presenter leaned toward the shared microphone and whispered, “We believe that last sound was from their deceased cow, Bessie.”
The jaws of many audience members dropped, and then the woman chuckled. “Just kidding,” she said. “We actually think it was from one of the farm laborers who died in the barn. If you listen carefully, you can hear him say field.”
Mary listened but couldn’t make out the word herself. She shrugged. It probably helped a great deal si
tting in front of the computer with earphones on, listening with no distractions. When she turned and saw Ian sitting in front of a computer with earbuds in, she nearly laughed out loud. Instead, she turned to Stanley and Rosie. “Hey,” she whispered. “I’m going to go to the ladies’ room.”
Clearly engrossed with the presentation, they merely nodded and continued listening.
Mary left the conference room and turned toward the bathrooms when she heard several male voices laughing across the corridor. Stepping to the side behind a partition, she decided to find out what they were laughing about.
“A cow,” one of the men guffawed. “She got an EVP of a cow.”
“What an amateur,” another man inserted. “If they really wanted to impress us with farm animals, they should have tracked down Mr. Ed. At least he could talk.”
“Hey. Hey,” the first man laughed. “Maybe it wasn’t a dead farm laborer after all. Maybe it was Mr. Ed pretending to be a human.”
Mary shook her head in disgust and started to leave when the next comment made her stop.
“So, did you hear about Sven?”
She stepped back behind the partition.
“You mean that Ghost Discoverers lost their contract?” another man asked. “Yeah. Like, who doesn’t know.”
“No. That he’s blaming Dee, his camera guy, for everything,” the initial voice said. “Sven said that Dee is a complete idiot and that there is something about his karma that repels spirits.”
“Repels spirits?” another voice questioned. “Can someone even do that?”
“I don’t know,” the initial voice said. “But if Sven can convince the studio that it was all Dee’s problem, not his, he might be able to retain the contract and just get another camera guy.”
“So, who owns all the footage they’ve already done?”
“I’d guess they either both own it,” the initial voice said, “or Dee owns it all.”
“Unless, you know, Dee ends up like Mr. Ed,” one voice joked. “I wonder if he was dead if he’d repel his own spirit.” He laughed loudly at his own joke. “Get it? Repel his own spirit? Get it?”
“Yeah, we get it, and it was stupid,” the initial voice said. Then he paused and lowered his voice. “I wonder if Sven’s looking for another crew. I heard that contract is worth a lot of money.”
“If they can live in California, you know it’s worth a lot of money,” another voice added.
“We should take Sven out to dinner,” the initial voice said.
“Great idea. I know the room he’s staying in at the hotel,” one of the men offered. “I’ll get in touch with him this afternoon. This could be our big break.”
“Yeah,” the initial voice said. “We could be rolling in the dough.”
“Just as long as Dee is out of the picture.”
Chapter Thirty-three
Bradley parked the cruiser behind the hotel and walked in through the side door.
“Back again?” Sherry asked. “Are you moving in?”
He smiled at her and shook his head. “Some guests to our community are a little more high maintenance than others,” he said.
She chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, he sure seems to be one of them,” she agreed. “Good luck.”
“Thanks. I think I’m going to need it,” Bradley replied.
He took the stairs instead of the elevator and reached the fourth floor in no time. He strode down the hall towards the room, then slowed when he realized the door to Sven’s room was slightly ajar. Pulling his gun from his holster, he held it in his hands as he moved closer to the room.
Leaning back against the wall outside the door, he tried to peer inside. He could see an open bathroom door and Sven’s suitcases still on the floor next to the closet. But the closet door was slightly open, blocking the view of the rest of the room.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, his back against the wall for cover, Bradley gently eased the door farther open. He carefully peered around the corner, his gun drawn, to get a better view of the inside of the room. From his vantage, the room looked empty. Hurrying across the doorway, he moved against the interior wall. He looked inside the bathroom and, finding it empty, moved farther down the small, interior hallway. At the point where the room opened up, he paused, then moved quickly, gun drawn. The room appeared to be deserted.
Pushing the bedding away, he checked underneath the beds. Going over to the windows, he checked to see if anyone had entered or exited through them, but they were locked tight. He released a slow, steady breath of relief and then froze.
Moving to the wall, he listened. There was someone is Dee’s room next door.
He moved quickly, but soundlessly, through the room and back out into the hallway. He tightened his hand around Dee’s doorknob and slowly turned. It was unlocked. He opened it slightly and listened. Whoever was inside was going through Dee’s belongings. Bradley decided that surprise was his best option this time.
Forcefully swinging the door open, Bradley jumped into the room, his gun drawn.
“Freeze!” he yelled. “Police.”
Sven dropped the camera case in his hand, and his arms shot up into the air. “Don’t shoot!” he cried. “Don’t shoot!”
Stepping into the room, Bradley sighed and holstered his gun. He closed the door behind him and walked toward Sven. “What the hell are you doing in Dee’s room?” he demanded.
“I was trying…” Sven choked. “I was trying to find my stuff.”
“Why didn’t you call Dee and ask him for it?”
Sven evaded just a little too long for Bradley’s taste. Pulling out his cell phone, Bradley held it up. “Should I call Dee and ask him if you even have stuff in his room?” Bradley asked.
“No! No. We shouldn’t bother him,” Sven said. “You know, he’s got work to do at the conference. I don’t want to distract him.”
“I don’t think he’d mind,” Bradley said.
“No! Okay, no,” Sven exclaimed. “I wasn’t in here for my stuff. I was in here for Dee’s stuff, okay?”
Bradley folded his arms over his chest and shook his head. “No, actually, not okay,” he said. “This is not your room. And in this town we call going into someone’s else place breaking and entering.”
“But we’re partners,” Sven argued. “You know, business partners. So, it’s all good.”
“Then why wouldn’t you want me to call your business partner to make sure he’s all good about you entering his hotel room?” Bradley replied.
Sven looked around the room, trying to see an escape. But the tall, well-muscled law enforcement officer standing in front of him didn’t look like he was going to let that happen.
“Listen, um, Bradley, right?” Sven started.
“Police Chief Alden,” Bradley replied tightly.
Sven nodded. “Okay, yeah, I’m good with that,” he said. “The thing is, um, Dee has some footage that I, like, really need.”
“Why?” Bradley countered. “You told me yourself you have nothing to do with the footage. Dee handles it all.”
Nodding nervously, Sven took a deep, shaky breath. “Okay, well, yeah, that’s true,” he said. “But, see, someone wants to buy the asylum footage, sight unseen. And they want to pay big bucks for it, and, you know, I am a little short on cash right now.”
“Because they cancelled your show?” Bradley asked.
Sven exhaled loudly and sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. “Dude, you weren’t supposed to know about that,” he said. “I mean, really, how do you find out this stuff?”
Grateful Sven still had his head down, Bradley bit back a smile and shook his head. “It’s kind of what I do,” he said, trying not to laugh. “And Dee knows about it, too.”
“Dammit! Why couldn’t he just, you know, go away?” Sven moaned.
“Like die?” Bradley asked.
“Yeah,” Sven said without thinking. Suddenly he lifted his head, his eyes wide, and he stared at Bradley. “No,
dude, you can’t think that I had anything to do with…You can’t believe that I would… I mean, he’s my partner, dude.”
“The partner you were about to steal from,” Bradley replied, finding absolutely no humor in the situation any longer. “Stand up. Turn towards the windows and put your hands on your head.”
Sven looked at him in disbelief. “Are you arresting me?” he squeaked.
“Looks like it,” Bradley replied. “Now stand up.”
Legs shaking, Sven stood up and faced the windows. He slowly brought his hands up to his head. “What are my fans going to say when they find out?” he cried.
Bradley stepped forward and slapped handcuffs over Sven’s right wrist. “I guess we’re going to have to find out,” he said. He pulled Sven’s right hand behind his back and then grabbed Sven’s left hand and pulled it back and slipped it into the other handcuff. “You have the right to remain silent…”
“You really are arresting me,” Sven exclaimed in disbelief.
“I really am,” Bradley said. He grabbed hold of Sven’s handcuffs and moved him toward the hotel room door. “You have the right to remain silent….”
Chapter Thirty-four
Mary slipped her phone back in her pocket and hurried down the hall to the conference room. The speakers were still showing photos of their investigations of older farmhouses, and as Mary paused to look at the screen, she saw that some of the orbs were really interesting.
I wonder how they would feel if they could see the ghosts behind those electric phenomena, she wondered as she watched the presentation for another few moments.
“We understand there was an accidental spill of anhydrous ammonia,” the older woman was explaining. “It caught the farmer unaware, and he died nearly instantly.”
Did he even know he was dead? Mary wondered. Was he wandering around wondering why no one was listening to him?
She shook her head and decided that she would try to find out the address of the farm and see if she could meet the farmer and have a little chat with him. Then the couple changed the tone of their presentation.