“Is that so?” Syd walked in behind me. “Seems to me I’ve heard you men eliminating as well, and not always in a fragrant way.”
“We’re men,” Matt answered as he plugged in various electrical equipment wires. “What can I say? Now Eden here…a world class belch coming from her dainty mouth is shocking.”
Syd rolled her eyes. “Eden can burp and fart with the best of them.”
“Okay,” I bellowed. “Enough talk about my unladylike tendencies.”
At that moment Luke and Goog entered by way of the back of the shop.
“So what did you see?” Matt asked.
“We put up some motion sensors in the basement, “ Luke said. “I didn’t notice anything unusual at first glance.”
“Just an incredible musty smell,” Goog lamented as he picked up an old Coca Cola tray from one of the antique tables. “My grandmother used to have these. She’d put cookies and milk on them for me and my brother and we’d eat in the living room watching cartoons.”
I could tell by the look on Goog’s face it was a nice memory.
“It’s rusted in a few places,” Goog said turning it over for a better look. “But I think I’ll buy it.”
“We’re not here to shop Goog.” While the Paranormal Investigating Service was mine and Luke’s venture, Syd still liked to call the shots at times.
Goog placed the tray back on the table and saluted. “Yes Master.”
All of a sudden the table Goog was standing by started moving on its own. The old wood table legs scratched the concrete floor surface making a high pitched screeching sound as it moved several feet from the wall. Goog moved so fast from the table he was a blur. Matt grabbed his video camera and began recording the table. It finally came to a halt a few yards away from its original position. No one moved or said anything for several seconds. We were waiting…for what, we weren’t sure.
Matt placed the video camera on the table with his other equipment and looked under the table for any mechanism that allowed it to move on its own.
“Be careful Matt,” Goog whispered. Not sure why he was whispering. I guess he thought the ghosts were hard of hearing.
“I’m fine,” Matt said from his position underneath the table. He continued to look and feel the under side of the table and legs. Although Matt wasn’t a believer in ghosts, that’s what made him a valuable part of the team. Not all investigations revealed earthbound spirits. Approximately 70% of our searches weren’t ghost related.
Luke walked over to the table and bent over. “See anything?”
Matt crawled out from under the table. “Nope. That doesn’t mean there’s nothing magnetic within the table.”
Luke grabbed one end of the table. “Okay, let’s move it back.”
Matt got on the opposite end. Both men attempted to lift the table but it wouldn’t budge.
“What the frick?” Matt said.
“You guys are pansies,” Syd stated. “Stand aside little girl,” she said to Matt.
Syd lifted her end. Luke attempted to lift his end of the table but it remained steadfast.
“Wow,” Syd exclaimed. “You guys really need to get in shape.”
Luke continued to strain to pick up his end of the table then gave up. “That’s not it Syd. It feels like it’s nailed to the floor.”
I walked over to Luke. “Let me try.”
I put my hands under the table and sure enough, it lifted.
“Get over here Goog,” Luke called out to Goog who was standing near the front of the shop with one foot out the door.
“Do I have to?”
“Get over here Goog. I won’t let any ghost hurt your tender hide.” Syd, our no-nonsense guru.
Goog reluctantly walked over to Luke and me. “Try and lift that end of the table,” Luke instructed him. Goog was hesitant, but then put his hands under the table and lifted. No luck.
Syd laughed. “I think our ghost prefers ladies.”
“Then how do you explain your ability to lift the table?” Matt teased.
“How about I explain how I’m going to wipe the floor with you.”
Matt and Syd loved to tease one another and it was all good natured ribbing.
“Pipe down you two.” Luke was listening, or trying to. “Anyone hear that?”
I strained my ears. It sounded like a whisper and I couldn’t make out the words. Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen. Then Goog whispered, “What’s it saying?”
All of a sudden a thunderous booming voice yelled. “PLEASE, DON’T TAKE Me!!
“Son of a Cracker!” Goog squealed!
Syd put her hands over her ears. “I heard that!”
Luke looked at Matt. “Tell me audio is running.”
Matt nodded as he walked towards the rear of the store looking for the source of the voice.
I looked over at Goog. He was white as….well, a ghost. “Is your heart still strumming buddy?” I asked.
Goog’s hand covered his chest. “Like monkey with a banjo.”
I guess that was a good thing.
We all started to follow Matt towards the back end of the shop. Goog got behind Syd. Suddenly we heard the chains rattle. It sounded distant at first and then became louder and louder. Goog grabbed Syd’s shoulders from behind. She patted one of his hands. We stood stock still. Luke had the video camera but didn’t know which way to point it.
“Where’s the noise coming from?” Luke asked no one in particular.
“It’s coming from down below us,” Syd stated.
“She’s right Luke,” I agreed.
We started down the stairs into the basement of the old building. Goog was right. The musty smell hit you square in the face as soon as the door was opened to the stairwell. Matt was in the lead and pulled the string to the basement light. Unfortunately there must have only been a 20 watt bulb in the socket as it didn’t provide much light. The rattling chains became more intense as we descended the steps. But by the time we all arrived on the basement floor, the sounds stopped.
We split up, except for Goog who was glued to Syd’s side, looking around the dank basement with our flashlights which provided a little more light.
“Anybody see anything?” Luke asked. We all answered no. In fact, the musty and dusty air was making it difficult for me to breathe, although no one else seemed to be having any difficulty. I felt like something was clinching my neck, like a heavy piece of metal. I grabbed my neck but nothing was there. The tightening around my neck was becoming more than I could bear however. Without a word, although I doubt I could have said anything anyway, I bolted for the basement stairs. I knew I had to get out of there.
Once I was back into the shop, the tightness waned. Before I knew it, Luke and the others were right there with me.
“Hon, are you okay?” Luke’s face was filled with concern.
I rubbed my neck. “I am now. But it felt like I was being choked.”
“Did it feel like hands choking you?” Syd asked as she gave me a bottled water out of her backpack.
I shook my head.
“Like a rope or noose?” Goog asked.
I took a sip of water and then answered. “No. It felt like metal squeezing my neck.”
We stayed a few more hours within the shop but nothing else occurred. By midnight we decided to head back to the Hummel House and get some rest. The next day would include exploring more of the village along with research into the town’s past.
Chapter Five
I slept in longer than usual. Evidently whatever I experienced the night before had taken a toll on me. But I got up refreshed and ready to hit the ground running.
Joanne supplied us with a mouth watering brunch in the private dining room, complete with eggs Benedict with hollandaise sauce and Canadian bacon, a cheesy hash brown casserole and various mini donuts and éclairs. The hickory flavored coffee was a treat all in itself.
After filling our bellies, we mapped out our next mission. Goog and Luke would head to
the small library in town to see if they could dig up any history, while Matt would go to the courthouse at the county seat a 20 minute drive away to look over old maps. Syd and I would perform the most important duty known to women….we would shop. Well, that’s not what we told the boys. We were to meet with Mrs. Dunkin at her art gallery, the other hot spot for the unusual haunting. But along the way Syd and I wanted to check out the other shops, most importantly, the old timey ice cream parlor complete with a long wooden bar with stools and a stained glass backsplash behind the stainless steel milkshake maker.
We weren’t hungry after our large brunch, but wanted to peek in all the same. It would be on our list of to do items when our bellies weren’t as full. In the back of the ice cream parlor was one of those organs that played by itself. I’d seen them before, but seeing how this town was supposed to be ghost central, it gave off a magical feel.
Our next stop was a craft shop filled with the usual items, such as plaques with wise crack sayings, various glass items like vases and pitchers, and jewelry. After picking out a pair of lavender flowered earrings we moved to the next shop and the one I had been looking forward to entering, the blown glass shop.
We could see a man in the back with a blow torch as he sculpted the ornaments. Within the shop were mostly tiny items, from Christmas ornaments to turtles, light houses and star fish. I had a collection of sea side items at home so I decided to add a red crab to the mix. The lady behind the counter was the wife of the proprietor who was working with the blow torch. Syd and I introduced ourselves as I paid for my purchase.
“I heard about a ghost hunting team coming to town,” she said as she handed me my change. “My name is Amy Thomas and the man in the back is my husband Pete.”
“He does a fantastic job with these pieces. I love blown glass,” I said.
Amy wrapped my purchase in tissue paper. “He sure has the knack for it.”
“So have you experienced any of the haunting?” Syd asked.
Amy slid my purchase into a plastic bag and handed it to me. “Now if you’re talking about our normal run of the creek haunting, yes I have. You know, the glowing orbs and the shadows in the windows. One time I thought I saw a woman in a white dress while Pete and I were eating at the Hummel House. She stood at the side of their huge fire place in the dining room and I could see right through her. Then she just faded away. Of course it’s not a big deal around here, well, unless you’re a tourist. They love it and get all excited. That is until the other haunting started.”
“Have you experienced it?” I asked as I placed the bag into my purse.
“No, but we’ve had several customers come in that did and were very shook up.”
Syd leaned on the counter. “What did they say?” I knew what she wanted to know. Did these people experience the same thing we did the night before. More importantly for me, did any of them feel as I had…the shortness of breath and the feeling of metal around my neck.
“A man and wife came in a few weeks ago. They’d been down at Mr. Hoffman’s shop. She was shaking and he wasn’t in much better shape. They said they were looking through his goods when a powerful voice yelled ‘don’t take me!’”
Syd and I looked at each other. So far so good.
“Did they hear anything else?” Syd asked.
“Yes…rattling chains.”
“Umm…did they say whether they felt anything…I mean other than being frightened, did they mention feeling odd in any way?” I hoped I didn’t sound strange myself.
Amy shook her head. “If they did, they didn’t mention it. But they were very frightened. Left that night from what Joanne said. I can’t really blame them. There were a few others that experienced the same thing. That’s when Mr. Hoffman decided to close the shop early each day. Seems most of the haunting comes in the evening.”
Everything was checking out almost the same as what had occurred with us, except for the table moving and my choking experience. We thanked Amy and headed for the art gallery.
The art gallery was a small narrow building sandwiched between a fudge shop and another craft store. Paintings of meadows and hillsides adorned the front glass windows.
The bell over the door tinkled with our arrival.
Several other customers were in the shop when Syd and I arrived, looking over the various paintings. I noticed Mrs. Dunkin talking with a customer. She smiled and waved at us, but continued talking with the woman. Syd and I walked around the shop, taking in the various paintings. A few were abstract, but many were of landscapes or still life. I noticed many were in groupings by the same artist. Syd went off in one direction, browsing among the paintings, while I took off towards Mrs. Dunkin and her customer. When I got closer I overheard their conversation.
“This is a new artist,” Mrs. Dunkin was explaining to her customer. “She moved here from Tennessee. She used to show her paintings in the Gatlinburg area but felt it had gotten too commercial for her tastes so she came here where there was a smaller town feel.”
The customer studied the piece of art and pointed to the right hand corner of the painting. “Her name is Jasmine Harris?”
“Yes…she told me she studied her heritage on Ancestry.com and she wanted to bring it to life the only way she knew how, through her art.”
“She is very talented,” the customer said. “I would like to buy this painting along with the frame. It will be a nice addition to my other art.”
“That’s wonderful Edith,” Mrs. Dunkin exclaimed. “Would you like me to bring it over this evening?”
“That would be fine. I’ll give you a check this evening if that’s alright.”
“That will work. See you tonight.”
Edith left and Mrs. Dunkin placed a small sold card on the painting. I walked over to her and Syd followed close behind. The women were right…the paintings were very good, not that I knew much about art. But the people and landscape within the paintings almost looked like a photograph.
“She is good,” I said. “I’m sorry, I overheard you two talking.”
Mrs. Dunkin smiled. “No worries. Isn’t she something. I’m so happy to have her paintings in my shop.”
The paintings were people of African-American descent. It appeared to show them in a time period over 100 years ago, likely before the Civil War. Many of the paintings were of them working in the fields or sitting outside on the porches of ramshackle cabins. Another one portrayed an African-American woman stirring a large wooden spoon in a black kettle pot that hung over a fire. Another showed an African-American man holding a baby. He looked down at the baby in his arms and his face revealed such love for the infant. I was totally captivated by the images. I could almost see the people in them moving. Not only was Jasmine a brilliant artist, but she had captured the essence of her ancestors, their hardship and their joy. Suddenly I felt a wetness run down my cheek as a tear escaped my eye. I quickly rubbed it away but not before Mrs. Dunkin noticed.
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Mrs. Dunkin placed a hand on my arm. “Many people have been moved by her art.”
Thankfully Syd took over so I could compose myself. “Well we wanted to stop by and see if we could check out any areas of the shop that have experienced a haunting.”
“Much of what I’ve heard has been moans and some wailing coming from the basement,” Mrs. Dunkin offered. “I still have to close the shop earlier than I want because sometimes the wails are so loud the customers hear them and think some poor soul is being tortured.”
“Yeah, I can’t say as that’s good for business. Do you mind if we take a look down there?” Syd asked.
“Not at all…it’s this way.”
We followed Mrs. Dunkin to the rear of the art gallery to a stairwell. Mrs. Hoffman turned on a light and the stairs lit up. “There’s another light with a string hanging from the ceiling.”
Syd nodded and started down the stairs, but I hung back.
“Mrs. Dunkin, do the wails frighten you?”
She sho
ok her head. “No they don’t, but they do make me feel very sad.”
I nodded. I would imagine they would. I headed down the stairs where Syd had already turned on the basement light. The area was small, but at least it didn’t have the musty odor that Mr. Hoffman’s basement had. There were many easels set up with paintings on them. However all the paintings were covered with cloths. I wanted to look under the cloths, but felt like it might infringe on someone’s privacy.
Syd used her flashlight to look in some of the dark corners of the room. “Nothing much back here but easels and frames it looks like.”
The Mystery of the Morbid Moans (Eden Patterson: Ghost Whisperer Book Three 3) Page 2