Painted Black

by Greg Kihn

  “We can stop in Baltimore and surprise him.”

  “I’ll take my wife, Erlene, and she can visit Cricket while we’re in Monterey. She’s been homesick.”

  “Excellent idea!” Brian said. “Let’s arrange it straightaway.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sympathy for the Devil

  Blood Mary and Her Back Plague Trolley Car Museum headquarters was at Mill Race Road. The ancient stone and mortar houses were cramped and primitive, but somehow the music sounded great there. They reminded Bobby of the Liverpool two-up, two-down row houses he grew up in. Like Liverpool, these tiny houses had two rooms up and two rooms down. Squeeze in a bathroom and that was it.

  This obscure neighborhood of unpaved roads in the middle of Baltimore had somehow missed the passage of time. Even with the addition of indoor plumbing and electricity, these houses had always stood apart from the rest of the city.

  The basement of Spider John’s house was full of rocks, dirt, and junk. Tom got the idea to clean it out and make a proper rehearsal space. He recruited some friends and began excavating the basement.

  They uncovered many Civil War–era items—pieces of pottery; bottles; bric-a-brac; a shoe; a rusted handgun, its barrel packed with mud; and several large rusty pieces of metal no one could identify. Once they cleaned out the top half, they took to the bottom half with shovels. Digging the dirt out was a grimy job. It was several feet deep. The smell was fetid. The dirt was moist.

  Digging in the southwest corner, Tom made a shocking discovery. He found a human skull buried in the dirt floor. It looked pretty old, although no one there had any experience in dating skulls. Tom asked Bobby to take pictures of it, then he carefully reburied it in the corner of the basement.

  Bobby didn’t want to handle it. He used a shovel to move it. He photographed the skull from every angle. He couldn’t wait to give it back to Tom.

  “That was creepy, man. I wonder who it was.”

  Tom shook his head. “That’s it. I’m giving up on the whole basement project. I don’t want to dig up any more surprises. God knows what else is down there.”

  They decided to keep the discovery among themselves and not call the authorities. Whoever’s skull it was had been buried a long time, probably more than a hundred years. The case was no doubt as cold as a dead fish. Besides, no one wanted cops crawling around the neighborhood. That was asking for trouble.

  A few nights later, while rehearsing in the living room, the jugless jug band had worked their way through a case of beer. The music was extra hot that night, and the rehearsal had turned into a real party. A couple of friends of friends dropped in, then a couple more, and then the chicks that lived at the end of block stopped by after the hearing the music. The showed up with more beer. And some wine. Whenever you gave them an audience, the jugless jug band responded by playing even louder. Pretty soon the house was rockin’.

  After an hour of hot skiffle licks, Memphis blues, and Texas swing, Bloody Mary and Her Black Plague Trolley Car Museum took a break. The only restroom in the house was a tiny little cubicle on the second floor at the top of the stairs. There were bedrooms or either side. To the right was Spider John’s room and to the left was his friend George’s. George was a successful musician in his own right and had actually cut an album. Everyone respected George. Lately, he spent most of his time in New York.

  One by one, each man trudged up the narrow stairs and relieved himself with the appropriate sighs and grunts until it was Bobby’s turn. His bladder was as full as the others, and he was anxious to stand before the porcelain basin and “bleed the lizard” as John Lennon would say.

  Bobby took the steps two at a time. When he got to the top, curiosity got the best of him, and he couldn’t resist peeking into George’s bedroom.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed was a pale young woman in a long white dress. Her black hair flowed down her back. Her head was bent as if in prayer, and Bobby could hear her weeping softly. A cool breeze drifted through the house as if someone had opened a window and caused a rush of cross-ventilation. Bobby caught a whiff of the same moist earthy smell of the cellar.

  Bobby thought nothing of it. He assumed that the girl was George’s girlfriend.

  “Oh, hi …” Bobby said. “I didn’t know anybody was in here.”

  The girl didn’t react at first. She just bowed her head and cried.

  “Are you okay?”

  She turned toward him. He saw her face. It was the face of infinite sadness. Her eyes looked like they had shed a thousand tears and looking at them made Bobby catch his breath. She seemed to look right through him.

  Bobby stood there for a minute frozen in time, then his bladder reminded of the reason he came upstairs.

  “I gotta go,” he said, and ducked into the bathroom. While he finished his business and washed his hands, he thought of the girl in George’s room. How striking she was and how incredibly sad she looked. When he returned to the party, he made a point of not looking in as he passed George’s door.

  He returned to the party in the living room.

  “Who’s that girl?”

  “What girl?” Tom replied.

  “The one in George’s room. Is that his girlfriend?”

  Tom looked around at the others. Spider John had taken over on harmonica and kazoo since he broke his wrist. He tapped his Hohner Marine Band harmonica against his thigh.

  “Did she have a long white dress on?”

  “Yeah,” Bobby said. “What about it?”

  “Was she crying?”

  “Yes. So why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  Spider John took a deep breath. Suddenly, the room got very, very quiet. Something creaked on the steps.

  “We think she’s a ghost.”

  Bobby felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He felt a shiver.

  “What do you know about her?”

  “We don’t know anything. George told me about her. He’s seen her many times. I’ve heard her crying. He calls her Eleanor Rigby, you know, like the girl in the Beatles song?” Spider John sang the melody to “Eleanor Rigby.”

  “I know the song.”

  “You think that was her skull we found?” Bobby asked.

  Spider John rolled his eyes.

  “God, I hope so. I don’t want to live in a multiple skull home.”

  Bobby still felt goose bumps.

  “Have you ever seen her?”

  “No. She has chosen not to reveal herself to me. She must like you.”

  “Are you sure it’s not George’s girlfriend?”

  “George doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

  Tom, Bobby, and Spider John all spontaneously looked at one another.

  “She’s probably still there. You want to go see?”

  They ran up the steps, turned the corner, and peered into George’s room.

  It was empty.

  Bobby felt strange for the next few days. He had to convince himself of what he had seen. Had he literarily seen a ghost? Or was it just a neighborhood chick? He kept replaying the incident in his mind, trying to remember every detail. She didn’t seem overly ghostly, unless you looked into the face of infinite sadness. Bobby wondered where that phrase had come from. It had popped into his head when he saw her face.

  For some reason, he thought of that song by the Monkees written by Neil Diamond. It began to play in his mind.

  He told Cricket about it and it frightened her. From that day forward, she refused to step foot in the house on Mill Race Road. Cricket believed in ghosts and apparitions, and they scared her.

  Bobby couldn’t get the experience out of his head. He’d always been a pragmatic man. He never believed in the supernatural. Not until now. His faith in an orderly, easy-to-explain universe was shaken. He couldn’t sleep. His appetite waned. He had trouble concentrating. />
  What was happening?

  The next day at the shop on Read Street, he found himself staring off into space most of the day. People asked him questions but he couldn’t respond.

  If she really was a ghost, why did she reveal herself to me?

  Bobby closed up the shop early and went home in a daze. He lay down on the couch and took a nap.

  Who was she? When did she live?

  The doorbell rang. He thought he was dreaming, but when it persisted, he sat up. Cricket was in the kitchen. He could hear her scuttling about as Winston helped her make tuna salad sandwiches.

  “Can you get it, hon?” Cricket called.

  Bobby sat up and collected his thoughts.

  The doorbell rang again. Bobby got up and walked to the door in his bare feet. He opened it and was flabbergasted.

  Standing before him were Clovis, Erlene, and Brian Jones. Bobby blinked. Am I dreaming?

  “Surprise!” Clovis shouted. He lunged forward and hugged Bobby.

  “Clovis? What are you doing here?”

  “We’re going to Monterey! You want to go? Brian’s got a ticket for you.”

  “Monterey?”

  “Yeah, man! The Monterey Pop Festival.”

  Bobby sputtered. “Well, come on in.” He called back to the kitchen to Cricket, “Honey, you won’t believe who just walked in!”

  Cricket came out wiping her hands on a towel with Winston at her side.

  “Oh my God!”

  Cricket hugged Erlene. “You came back.”

  They entered the house. Bobby hugged Brian like a long-lost brother.

  “How are you doing, man?”

  “I’m over Anita if that’s what you mean.” One look into Brian’s eyes and Bobby knew that was a lie. But Brian put up a brave front. After all, he’d recently had to endure a tour of Europe standing next to Keith onstage. He was the man who not only stole the love of his life, he was also the man who had taken the reigns of his beloved blues band so they could record garbage like Their Satanic Majesties Request. That must have been painful.

  “The cops are clamping down,” Brian said. “I had to get out of London.”

  “The Stones office had already arranged for the tickets,” Clovis explained. “Our man Brian is the guest of honor, and he’s going to introduce Jimi Hendrix.”

  “What about Acid King Leon Silverman? Wasn’t he the official envoy?”

  Clovis said, “He wasn’t the official anything, the stinkin’ little weasel. He was a plant by the News of the World to get us busted at Redlands. He disappeared right after. People think he was working for the cops, and that’s why they didn’t open his briefcase.”

  Brian grunted, “The bloody snitch! I’m gonna find that guy one day, and when I do, I’m going to teach him a lesson.”

  Clovis said, “You’ll have to stand in line because I want a piece of him, too.”

  They talked for several hours before Brian went back to his hotel room. Erlene and Clovis stayed in the guest room at Bobby and Cricket’s house on Southway.

  They talked far into the night. Bobby told the tale of the beautiful ghost in George’s room at Mill Race Road. They all got goose bumps. Erlene said she could feel the presence of the ghost on Bobby, like dusty fingerprints after he’d touched a room that had been empty for years.

  Erlene said, “Her aura is still with you. I can tell that it made quite an impression.”

  “You can?”

  Clovis said, “Erlene’s psychic. Lately she’s been extra sensitive, I don’t know why.”

  “I do,” Erlene replied.

  Erlene let a mischievous smile slide across her face. Clovis winked at her.

  Bobby said, “A few weeks ago, I’d have dismissed the idea of ghosts as silly superstitions. But now, after what I’ve seen, I’m not so sure anymore. If ghosts exist, what else is out there? If Erlene says she’s psychic, I’m inclined to believe her.”

  “Do you mean psychic or psycho?” Clovis joked.

  No one laughed.

  Erlene hit Clovis on the head with a rolled-up newspaper. “Don’t you make fun of me.”

  “I’m sorry, hon. I was just foolin’.”

  Now that she was back in Baltimore, Erlene’s accent flared in all its glory. Her attitude was back, too. Yet, she sounded sincere.

  “I ain’t kiddin’ about being psychic. Lately, my inner senses have been lightin’ up like a pinball machine. Up until now, it’s all been about Brian, but now … well, I think this girl is somehow connected.”

  Clovis shook his head. “Don’t get all goofy on me, you guys. I’m still a skeptic, and I don’t believe in any of this crap. How could a girl who probably died over a hundred years ago possibly be connected to Brian Jones?”

  Erlene rubbed her chin.

  “I don’t know. But I aim to find out. Can you take me there?”

  “What? To Mill Race Road?”

  Erlene nodded.

  “I want to meet her.”

  “I don’t know …”

  Clovis looked at Bobby with an exasperated “this has gone far enough” look. Clovis shrugged.

  “She’s my wife. If that’s what she wants …”

  Bobby sounded tired.

  “All right. I’ll take you in the morning.”

  Cricket said, “How can you go over to those creepy little houses, Erlene? I’m never going inside there again.”

  Erlene looked around the room. “It’s important. I don’t know how or why. It just is.”

  Clovis said to Bobby, “How do we even know you saw a ghost? It could’ve been some girl from the party. Lots of hippie chicks wear granny dresses. Maybe she used the bathroom and slipped into George’s room to be alone and then she left. You said she was crying. Maybe she was sick.”

  “Should we take Brian with us to Mill Race Road? Afterward, we can go to the Hi-Dee-Ho Soul Shack?” Clovis asked.

  “Why not? He might like Mill Race Road. He’s into the supernatural, and that’s a part of old Baltimore that most people never get to see.”

  Erlene said, “I think I know why I’m so psychically sensitive these past days.”

  Cricket looked concerned. “Why is that, hon?”

  “It must be because I’m pregnant.”

  Cricket let out a war whoop and hugged Erlene again. “You?”

  Erlene nodded.

  “Congratulations! You’re pregnant! How wonderful!”

  Erlene said, “We’re coming back to Baltimore right after I have the baby.”

  “That’s wonderful! Are you going to Monterey?”

  “No, I’m staying here in Baltimore while the boys are at the festival.”

  “That’s perfect. You can stay here with me. I could use the company.”

  When the tires of Bobby’s pickup crunched onto rutted the gravel path that was Mill Race Road, Brian took note. It was a tight squeeze in the front seat, and four across was the absolute maximum. They pulled up to the house.

  “Looks charming,” Brian said. “Why are we here?”

  “We’re here to meet a ghost,” Erlene said.

  “A ghost? A real one?”

  “Yes. As real as a ghost can be.”

  Brian slapped his hands together. “Excellent!”

  “You’re a big believer in the occult, Brian. Have you ever seen the real thing?”

  Brian shook his head. “But I’d like to.”

  They walked into the house. The front door was not only unlocked, it was wide open. Spider John was lying on the sagging couch in his jockey shorts and T-shirt, blowing blues riffs on a harmonica. When he looked up and saw Bobby, Clovis, Erlene and … Who was that? Brian Jones! He jumped to his feet.

  “Holy shit! You’re Brian Jones!”

  “That is correct, my good man,” Br
ian said, “no need to dress for us. We’re only here for a minute, so be cool.”

  “We want to go to the room where Bobby saw the ghost,” Erlene said.

  “Sure …” Spider John replied. “You know where it is. Go right up the stairs. George is out of town.”

  Erlene put a hand on Clovis’s shoulder.

  “Just me and Bobby go up first. I don’t want to spook her.”

  Bobby led Erlene quietly up the stairs to George’s room. They looked in. It was empty. Tentatively, they walked into the room.

  Bobby was about to speak when Erlene shushed him.

  They stood in absolute silence. The birds stopped singing outside and the cicadas in the trees stopped humming. Suddenly, it was as quiet as a snowy night. Erlene closed her eyes. They remained that way for five minutes, Erlene listening and breathing softly. Someone started up the stairs. The clomp, clomp, clomp of the boot steps drew nearer.

  Brian got to the top of the stairs and peered in.

  “Is this where it is?” he said.

  Suddenly, Erlene felt dizzy. She wavered for a moment, then crumpled to the floor.

  “Clovis!” Bobby shouted. He knelt beside her and felt her pulse.

  Clovis came up the stairs quickly. He saw Erlene on the floor, scooped her up, and carried her downstairs. He went right through the house, past Spider John, out to Bobby’s truck. He sat her in the cab and rolled down the windows.

  “Breathe some air, hon.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, “I felt faint for a second.”

  Clovis was concerned.

  “You’re pregnant. You went up those steep stairs and got all emotional and had a bad reaction, that’s all. Nothing supernatural about it.”

  “But I felt her presence.”

  “The girl?” Bobby said.

  He had followed them out and now stood near the passenger side window.

  Erlene nodded. “At first, I got the feeling she was trying to … to tell me something. Then Brian came in. And she reacted so strongly to his presence, it was incredible. She got all excited, and I could feel her trying to send a message inside my brain. I don’t know what it was, but Brian was definitely the one that triggered it.”

  Clovis shook his head.