by Aiden James
“No…no, that won’t be necessary,” she assured me. “I’ll make sure to do it before we leave.”
That settled, we prepared to join the others. I assumed everyone was there, since Jackie’s SUV sat parked in the carport along with Tony’s truck. Tom returned home last night. The only other person present was the lone metro police officer standing outside the back gate. His patrol car occupied the space between the SUVs. He smiled and waved to us as we got out of the car.
“Fiona and Jimmy…Alea?” he asked, motioning for us to come over to him.
“Yeah that’s us,” I said. Beyond him I could see the tops of Justin and Tom’s heads on the other side of the fence. “Do we need to sign anything to get in?”
“No, that won’t be necessary,” he said, smiling sheepishly. A definite sign this guy had a good personality.
My luck with cops hasn’t worked out so well. Maybe it’s the hair, earrings, and such. Driving a fast car and a Harley does little to help matters, I’m sure. So when I meet a police officer that doesn’t seem immediately hung up on appearances and other external bullshit, I sincerely appreciate it.
Jerry Sloan is the cop’s name. A veteran of sixteen years, as Tom would tell us later, Officer Sloan stands just an inch or so shorter than me and looks like he works out some. Sporting sandy brown hair with the kind of thick moustache Ed should have, instead of the pussy tickler he prefers, Jerry’s intense green eyes make him look like he should be shaking hands at a political rally instead of writing speeding tickets and guarding potential murder victims. But, I was glad to have him there.
“I believe your friends are waiting for you inside, and I’ll keep watch out here if you need me,” he advised, flashing a perfect row of pearly whites.
Even Fiona noticed the man’s physique and charm, raising an admiring eyebrow as we moved through the gate to our buds on the other side. The same rules apply to her as me…lookin’s ‘A-okay’.
“What up, Ale-e-a-a-h-h-s-s?”
Justin was the first one to greet us, with warm hugs for us both. Jackie and Angie quickly followed, squealing ‘it’s Fiona and Jimmy!’ like nubile girls at a Jonas Brothers concert. If not for the separation and the strange circumstances we all found ourselves in, I might’ve avoided the initial contact with our female partners in the paranormal investigation biz that night. Both girls gave me impulsive pecks on my cheeks, which made me feel like a little kid seeing a long lost aunt for the first time. Good thing the guys weren’t so carried away. Just a quick handshake with Tony and a pat on the back from Tom, our emotionally repressed duo.
“We’ve got a lot of things to cover tonight, so without further adieu, please grab a drink and follow me to ‘le studio’.” It sounded worse than I presented here, but Tom’s entreaty for us to come along proved effective enough.
“Jimmy, I’ll grab you a beer if you’d like, and a wine cooler for the Misses!”
Justin is revved up ala Chris Rock. What would life be like without this guy? I hope to never know.
“Sounds great, man!” I told him, chuckling. “Any Heinekens or Killians in the cooler over there?”
“Nah…not tonight,” said Justin, his grin mischievous. “Tom and Tony went cheap-ass and bought just Miller cow-pee.”
“I brought along some Bud longnecks, if you’re interested, Cracker Jack!”
Count on Angie to come through in a pinch, since it beats bottled water.
“All right. That’ll work for me!”
Similar to last time we did this, she tossed me a bottle. Tom was in the process of upbraiding Justin for his beer comment when this happened. The blood drained from his face and he stopped his tirade in mid-sentence. Thank God I caught it. As for Fiona’s wine cooler, Jackie brought that over to her, nodding graciously toward our hyperventilating host.
Nice gesture by her, as otherwise we might’ve been subject to a long, drawn out lecture from Dr. Tom Gaither. Manners are always the main thing with him—even if it means missing out on a little fun now and then. I guess that’s the difference between AARP and twenty to thirty-somethings, although I’d bet he’s been a stick in the mud since he was a diapered tot. Thankfully he did let it slide, smiling appreciative and then he deferred to Fiona’s admonishment to get busy on the night’s agenda.
“Remember we’ve got a curfew to stick with, according to Ed,” she said, and moved over to where Tom stood.
He accepted her invitation to wrap her arm inside his, and the two led the way to the studio. Tony followed close behind them, and I could tell by his expression he felt greatly relieved the potential blow-up didn’t happen. Jackie and Angie followed next, leaving Justin and me to pull up the rear.
“You almost got us hammered, you know,” I chided him, playfully. “Is it your goal to see what it’ll take to give the old man a full-blown heart attack?”
“Not a heart attack…just a banana flavored enema to loosen his tight-ass up!”
Ha!
“Shushhhh!!!”
Angie turned around, her forefinger pressed to her lips in annoyance, despite her naughty smile suggesting otherwise.
“Chill, Muscle Mutt! We’s jus havin’ a lil’ fun wit da boss man!”
Okay, now we’re really laughing, including Tony and Jackie. Justin’s on a frigging roll tonight. Good thing Tom and Fiona had already stepped inside the studio. Fiona’s knowing grin told me she heard it, too…she just has a lot more restraint than the rest of us, I guess. Of course, she’s all business when it comes to planning investigations and reviewing paranormal findings. That evening promised to be pretty significant in the latter, as I overheard Tom talk about some crazy video footage taken from our Bethpage investigation and a full EVP from the Thompson mansion. Something about ‘soldier footage’ from our interrupted Carnton graveyard tour, too.
“Everyone take a seat, and we’ll get started,” said Tom, motioning to seven chairs gathered around his studio console. Last time we were there, only a couple of leather swivel chairs were available. He must’ve purchased the other five since then. ”And, for your drinks, I’ve got some themed coasters for y’all.”
“Well, check this out!” said Jackie, admiringly, holding one of the coasters up for all of us to see. “It’s us—our picture along with the NVP insignia!”
Tom looked on, beaming with pride as we all grabbed a coaster, each of us admiring the detailed craftsmanship. Not your dozen for fifty bucks variety. The marble disks were yet another illustration of Tom’s serious dedication to what we do. It made me feel more ashamed for laughing at his expense.
“I decided to do this to celebrate the studio’s completion a couple of weeks ago,” he explained. “But, the coasters weren’t finished until late last week. They seem better suited for celebrating the upcoming television production Jackie told us about!”
Now Jackie wore the broad smile. Her face turned red when we all applauded her efforts to get our little group a jumpstart from relative obscurity to the forefront of Nashville’s awareness. For that matter, it meant major exposure in the entire mid-state region.
“We’ll get to all that in due time tonight,” she said, when Justin prodded her to lay out the highlights of what the TV gig entailed. “First, let’s allow Tom to tell us about the latest evidence collected from our last three investigations, and then Fiona and Angie can bring us up to date on the two haunts we’re planning to visit during the next week.”
It all sounded good to me.
“Geez, it’s been such a crazy frigging week and a half, huh?”
Angie shook her head as she said this, followed by various affirmations from the rest of us. It was indeed an eventful time, and one that none of us would ever forget, I’m sure. Of course, this perspective did little to change the fact it sucked overall. Our group’s newfound fortunes could never compensate the loss of life for those close to us. For all the jaded hacks out there who think a potential pile of money, or whatever success might bring, will help us forget…. Yeah, it might nu
mb me a little for a moment, but I damn well guarantee Fiona and Jackie would immediately trade it all to start over and have our friends back alive. Justin should feel the same, and probably Tony. He’s pretty sensitive.
Something tells me Angie might be okay with the trade off, however, and sorry to say, Tom might be, too. Just a gut feeling, and it doesn’t make either of them a bad person necessarily. But from what I’ve seen, neither one is real sensitive to the emotional needs of others. So, it shouldn’t take long for them to forget someone and move on.
“Hey, Jackie, since our upcoming investigations are already upon us, maybe we should get the plan details out on the table for tomorrow’s investigation first.” suggested Tom, once everyone had settled in comfortably. Tony sat by Tom’s computer, ready and waiting on his command to run through the investigative piece. “So, if you’re ready, Fiona, that might be the best way to approach our agenda tonight. Do we all agree?”
“I agree,” said Fiona, and as she looked around the room we all nodded our consent. She pulled out a small notebook and her Blackberry from her purse, setting the items on her lap. “I’ll run through the preliminary stuff on Twin Forks Bed and Breakfast, down in Manchester, and then I think it’ll be a good idea for us to get the initial info from Angie for our planned investigation of Montebello Manor near College Grove this coming Sunday night. What do y’all think?”
“Sounds like a very good idea to me,” said Justin, eyeing Angie impishly, whose sandal tapped a soft steady rhythm on the Persian rug covering much of the room’s hardwood floor. “I still can’t believe Angie actually knows anyone who believes in ghosts, outside of us.”
“Yeah, you’re such a skeptic, Angie,” added Tony, adjusting his ball cap while turning to better view the rest of the group from his workstation. “You didn’t tell the owner you’re an unbeliever, or did you?”
“Hmmm….let’s just say I didn’t say one way or another,” she replied, a sly grin on her face.
It really makes her delicate facial features stand out when she does that…high cheekbones and dimples alongside the corners of her mouth. The stuff that Justin says drives him nuts about her, as the crush we see now and then is no small thing.
“But if the dude or lady ever asked, what would you say?” Tony persisted, perhaps knowing full well she’d never divulge the full extent of her skepticism. “I don’t believe you’d take the middle road and say ‘I don’t know’. Ain’t that right?”
“Yeah, I’d probably say what I’ve always told you guys…I’m searching for the truth,” she said, her smirk broadening. “I acknowledge that ghosts might exist, hoping someday I’ll find concrete evidence to support either their existence or fabrication.”
The true definition of a skeptic in our business. Can’t argue with that.
“Which is what I love about you, Angie!” said Fiona. “Our group couldn’t survive without some healthy skepticism to keep us on course. Right fellas? I know Jackie agrees wholeheartedly with me on this too.”
“Thanks, Fi,” Angie responded, pausing to look over at Jackie, who agreed with Fiona’s assessment of her point of view. The guys nodded as well. “Once you finish going over the Twin Forks stuff, I’ll be happy to give everyone the run-down on what we’ll be doing next Sunday.”
“Okay everyone…let’s give Fiona the floor,” said Tom.
He slid down into his chair, and Fiona began her presentation. Very thorough about things, she’d printed out detailed maps of the property from her aunt’s computer, including a full layout of the twelve thousand square foot Victorian built in the late 1870s, both floors. Also, she included the carriage house and stables that had since been converted into a restaurant and gift shop.
On the bottom of the page a summarized ‘haunted’ history followed the historical record, starting when the house was erected to its fall on hard times in the 1920s, and the resurrected property in the 1990s under the current owners, Charlien and George McGlothin. Fiona added a second page, which described the findings from three previous visits to the property, including our latest trip two years ago.
At the bottom of this second page was a ghost face photograph, which she captured during our second visit. It was one of our bigger claims to fame locally, and was once featured on a popular international ghost hunter website. The image turned up when we had the initial shot enlarged, due to what looked like swirling smoke reflected off a small glass surface. The bigger picture revealed lucid details of a white face wrapped in some kind of bandages around the chin and nose, looking back toward Fiona’s camera. That stuff’s always creepy, but even more so when you consider the mansion built by a wealthy doctor was later used as a sanitarium during the flu and tuberculosis outbreaks that plagued the country during the first thirty years of the twentieth century.
Most of us were already familiar with the Twin Forks mansion, and completely jazzed about going again. Justin and Angie were intrigued about the possibilities, especially Justin. I for one had been looking forward to this investigation, since we’d always gotten something on video or audio from the old Victorian and its surrounding out-buildings and grounds. Say if something significant happened again tomorrow night, would our resident skeptic be less cynical?
Soon it was Angie’s turn to tell us about Montebello Manor, a place we knew virtually nothing about.
“It won’t be the colorful presentation that Fiona so wonderfully put together for us,” she explained. “But, you’ll have to trust me on this one. An antebellum house built before the Civil War, the Union used it briefly as a base of operations. It’s rumored that nearly sixty soldiers are buried on the property, along with countless slaves who once worked the tobacco and cotton fields surrounding the house.”
“Montebello?” my wife uttered softly, a look of stern concentration on her face. “I’m not familiar with that one…and it’s down near College Grove?”
She started to pick up her Blackberry to try and find it on the internet.
“You might not find it in there,” Angie advised, and Fiona looked up sharply. Before she could pose the ‘how so?’ question written all over her face, Angie continued. “The owner, Max Purdue, told me he bought it from the McGavock family’s ‘poorer’ descendants, who let the place fall into disrepair. Apparently the war’s embarrassment was felt far greater at this particular place than any other in the area. Max even told me that the house has very few historical records available to verify its existence, perhaps in the hopes it would be forgotten completely. Based upon the pictures he showed me, it really should’ve been bulldozed down…it was a leaning tower of shit and debris when he bought the property eight years ago.”
“What?... Surely it’s safe to assume he’s renovated the place since then, right?” I asked. I mean, if it’s a dung pile on stilts, or dangerous to move around inside, we won’t be making this trip—definitely not at night, anyway.
“He and his wife and oldest son have worked on the place for the past six years. They considered tearing it down the first two years they owned it,” said Angie. “It’s not finished yet, but the house has new walls and floors, and looks like it will be as nice as the Heritage House Fiona showed me a few weeks back when we drove to Franklin for lunch. Jackie was with us, too—you remember what that house looked like. Right?”
“Yeah…a beautiful red brick antebellum—maybe what the Carnton would look like if it was completely modernized,” Jackie concurred.
“Like I said, it might not be listed anywhere, and the house is mostly empty while the Purdues work on it, but the place has already been wired for electricity so we can set up our gear. But if you’d rather cancel, I’ll do that.”
“What kind of paranormal disturbances do the owners report?” asked Tom.
Meanwhile, Tony confirmed he couldn’t find anything about the house on Google.
“It’s similar in ways to the plantation house we visited in Bethpage. Max told me about some shadow people his wife and son see on a regular basis,” said
Angie. “That, and a Union soldier walking from the house to the woods on the north side of the house.”
Fiona and Tom reflected quietly for a moment, while the rest of us waited for their decision. Really, it was more Fiona’s judgment that we all awaited, since Tom looked like he could take or leave this particular investigation. Unless a locale had a lot of provable activity, he’d just as soon skip an investigation like this for the more notable haunts. Our only snob, he’s not much of a trailblazer.
“Why not?” Fiona finally announced.
Maybe she wanted to ensure Angie remained a fully committed member of the group, since this was the first project she’d completely scouted and followed through with on her own. Or, maybe my wife felt intrigued by the possibilities of investigating haunts populated by restless Union soldiers as opposed to the more common Confederate dead who seem to haunt Middle-Tennessee in abundance.
“So we’re all set to check out this Montebe-e-l-l-l-o-o-w Manor, huh? Booyakasha!!”
Here’s hoping Justin’s enthusiasm pulls Tom and Tony’s vote. I’m pretty sure Jackie will go along with Fiona, and you know I won’t be rockin’ the boat.
“Oh, what the hell,” Tom murmured. “It’s not like we’ve got anything else pressing.”
“So it’s a done deal?”
Jackie’s tone indicated urgency, to seal the deal and move on to other pressing business. Like the frigging awesome television project.
“Yes, it’s done,” said Tom, who glanced at Tony, who also gave an affirmative nod.
“So, let’s move on to what you’ve got to share with us tonight, Tom,” said Fiona, her tone sounding relieved. I suddenly realized she expected a bit of a battle over Angie’s proposed Sunday project. Glad it didn’t come to that.
“Actually, I’d rather save that for last,” he said, and his tone clearly indicated he had a new agenda based in part on our recent coercion to get him to go along with us. So now it’s his turn to run the show? There are politics in everything, I guess. “Tell us about the upcoming TV show, Jackie.”