by Alexie Aaron
A spent raspberry branch snagged Mia’s pants. She twisted her leg away and stamped her foot to free it. “I hope there aren’t ticks around here,” she said absently while she brushed away the foliage, examining the ground. Mia tried to think like her parents for a moment. Their extensive archeological experience and anthropological knowledge would come in handy here. If the children were tied to the area by their bones, then the majority of the bones would still have to be intact. Fires strong enough to fell trees would certainly destroy the skeletons of children, especially the young ones. Where would they have sought refuge when the fire broke out? How did the fire start? Did they start it?
It wasn’t unusual that children were drawn to flames. From a very young age Mia had been fascinated by fire. She remembered that she had loved staring into the red and blue lights of the flames. They captivated her. One evening when four-year-old Mia was left to fend for herself, she had the brilliant idea of bringing out the logs so she could study the fire from all angles. Amanda, her mother, who was typing furiously in the next room, was unaware of the pile of smoldering logs on the hearth rug that Mia had pulled from the fireplace in the parlor with the tongs. Misty Mom, the spirit who inhabited the house, frantically tried to push the logs back in as fast as Mia pulled them out.
Mia had just left the office, where she had quietly taken a handful of old newspapers, when her mother’s typewriter ribbon ran out. Amanda was in the process of flipping it over to use the other side when she smelled smoke. She glanced at her overflowing ashtray, expecting to see it alit again. Finding the butts were well extinguished, she got up and wandered out of the room. Sniffing the air, she was puzzled. Perhaps the flue had snapped shut again. It had happened before. This was an old house, and her husband wasn’t the handiest of sorts. She opened the parlor door and stood frozen on the threshold by the sight in front of her. Her tiny daughter was circling a mound of burning logs, jabbing in twisted rolls of newspaper wherever they would fit.
“Is this the most efficient use of your time, dear?” Amanda asked calmly.
Mia turned and looked up at her mother in amazement. She was so struck that this woman was actually paying attention to her that she forgot to let go of the last offering of paper. It flashed with fire; heat barreled out of the conical shape of the roll and caught Mia full in the face. She dropped the paper and screamed.
Amanda walked over and disassembled the hazard, kicking most of the larger logs back into the fireplace with her slippered foot. She leaned over Mia and examined her face. It was red, but the first degree burns weren’t worth a trip to the hospital. Instead, she directed her daughter to the kitchen with a firm hand and handed her a dishrag-wrapped bundle of ice to apply to the sore cheek.
“That will teach you to play with fire, missy,” she said, lighting her cigarette with the blue gas flame from the top of the stove.
Mia smiled. She had forgotten the fire incident until now. What else had she forgotten as she grew up? Did Amanda actually teach her lessons? Perhaps her abandonment was more in her imagination than actual fact. Mia thought a moment and dismissed the idea.
Her gloved finger snagged on the edge of something hard. She got on her knees and began digging around what she found to be a large piece of mortar. “Murph, come here a moment, please,” she asked, continuing to dig, finding a bigger piece of mortar attached to a darkened piece of fieldstone.
Together they rooted around, unearthing several foundation stones at the edge of the depression. She then walked to the opposite side and repeated the process until she was convinced a structure once stood here.
Murphy moved to the center of the depression and slowly sank into the ground. He reappeared and shook his head. “Too dark, no space.”
Mia nodded and got to her feet. It didn’t mean the children’s remains weren’t in there, but it was going to take more than an exploring ghost knocking around in the dark to find them. This project would have to wait until the PEEPs team could figure out what was happening in the neighborhood.
“If you can hear me,” Mia said in the still of the night, “I will find you and help you. Give me time.”
Murphy looked tenderly at his friend and knew her words were her bond. He wished the world was full of unselfish creatures like the woman before him, but he knew that she was more an aberration than the norm. Still, she attracted like individuals. His father always said, “Stephen, be good and good will come to you. Be bad, and you will unfortunately reap your reward where it’s hot.”
“Penny for your thoughts,” Mia asked, witnessing the play of emotions on her friend’s face.
Murphy managed to gruffly say, “Memories,” before he tipped his hat and walked away.
Mia looked around her a moment before heading back to the PEEPs vehicles and the comfort of Ted’s company. She touched her earpiece. “Heading back, Teddy Bear.”
“Coffee will be waiting, we’ve drawn night shift,” Ted said. “Cid’s taken your truck back with Maggie. He’s going to spend the night there. Audrey has some interesting information to share with you. And Mike’s catching some zees in the RV.”
“And where would our illustrious leader be?” Mia asked.
“He’s helping Nathan rehouse his collection of DCs and Marvels.”
“Ah, a labor of love,” Mia said with only a tinge of sarcasm.
“I fear you will never understand the joy of collecting,” Ted answered.
“They’re books and toys. Books are to be read, and toys are meant to be played with. I side with the ghosts.”
Ted laughed. “Why doesn’t that surprise me? Hurry up; I’m in the need of collecting some kisses.”
“Crossing Mary Alison’s yard now,” Mia said and picked up her pace.
Audrey was so engrossed with reading the posts on the I Remember Himmel Facebook page that she didn’t hear the door of the RV open. It was the fresh scent of the outdoors mixed with coffee that alerted her that Mia was standing beside her. She looked up at the smiling face of her friend and patted the seat next to her. “Sit down. I’m not sure if I’m on the right track. I have to admit, I’ve spent a lot of time on this site,” she explained.
Mia looked at the blue-bannered web page and took a moment to gaze upon the picture someone had posted of the elementary school. “Is that Himmel? It looks kind of…”
“Old. Yes, I believe this picture was taken in the sixties. There are a lot of them. Evidently, the school beyond the woods was a great place to be educated. According to the posts and comments, the teachers made each day special. Some of the students loved it so much, they wanted their ashes strewn over the grounds. Of course this being a school at the time of the requests negated the activity. Health codes, church and state, and other excuses were given.”
“It’s no longer a school, I understand,” Mia mentioned.
“Unfortunately, that’s true. The local population couldn’t support the aging school. It’s been bought by the county, and renovations are scheduled to turn it into a senior center. Mia, I think that’s where the ghosts are coming from,” Audrey said. “I think that the students loved the school so much that they’re returning there instead of passing on to their reward. Kind of a reunion for the dead is happening.”
Mia took a moment and studied her friend’s face. Audrey was always enthusiastic about a project and wore her happiness in plain sight. Her bubbly manner was difficult to take before the first cup of coffee, but Mia grew to love the woman’s outlook on life so much that she mutely bore the irritation until the caffeine kicked in.
“Is it possible?” Audrey asked.
“Is what possible?”
“Is it possible to travel to a place you love, haunt it – for use of a better word – when you’ve had a Christian burial elsewhere?”
Mia swallowed hard and stammered, “I’m not a priest, and I can’t answer questions like that with any authority. What I can tell you is that anything is possible. The more PEEPs investigate, the more I learn.”
“How do we contain these happy children?” Audrey asked.
“First we find out if, indeed, this is what is generating the activity here in the neighborhood. We need access to the school. We also need to examine the last two houses. I know that the marbles had to come from one of them. Yes, I know Gina professes that nothing has been disturbed at their home, but we have yet to talk to Harold, and there is 1308 to check out.”
“You’re thinking Harold is the secret hoarder of marbles,” Audrey said catching on.
“I didn’t know about the lure of collecting toys until I had Ted lecture me about it a few moments ago,” Mia admitted. “Personally, I find it a waste of money and time, but I seem to be a minority. You see for me, Audrey, antiques bring problems,” Mia confessed. “Ralph collects Barbie dolls, but I do know he does change their clothes and dresses them with every change of season,” she confided.
“I’d love to see those,” Audrey said. “My Barbie dolls were too worn to keep, but I have a few of the handmade dresses my mother created for them squirrelled away in my hope chest.”
Mia looked at her puzzled and asked, “What’s a hope chest?”
Audrey was astounded her fellow female investigator not only didn’t have a hope chest but had no idea what one was. She put her finger up, silently asking for a moment, and typed a few words into the search engine of the browser, bringing up several images of cedar chests and trunks. “Traditionally in my family, we girls are given a chest like these when we turn sixteen. I understand it is different depending on the family and culture. Anyways, mine is similar to this one,” she said, tapping on the screen, showing Mia the plain cedar box. “The reason for the chest is to house things you make and collect for your future household. I think marriage used to be the reason, but times change and women don’t get married right away. This is where I keep my mother’s veil, lace doilies I made in scouts, and other items that I foresee using in my dream house. The cedar protects the cloth from moths.”
“Would this be where wedding trousseaus would be kept?”
“Yes, and maybe after the wedding, baby clothes…” Audrey bubbled.
“Ralph has three hope chests,” Mia said. “They are a bit more ornate, but every time I ask what’s in them, he changes the subject. When I was a child I thought he was a pirate and they were full of treasure.”
“Well they are,” Audrey said. “To Ralph, they are his treasure.” Audrey looked at the time and sighed. “I fear I’ve gotten off track again. Where were we?”
“Himmel school,” Mia reminded her.
“Mike’s going to talk to the people in charge in the morning. I’m going to tag along and see if I can pick up any negotiating techniques.”
“Mike’s techniques are charm, evocation, and a saucy grin.”
“I heard that, Cooper,” Mike called from the bedroom. “Wanna come in here and tuck me in?”
“That would be a negative,” Mia said getting up. “Time for me to make my rounds. Batteries aren’t going to change themselves.”
“Coward,” Mike said and laughed the most evil of laughs.
Mia made a face at Audrey and quickly left the RV.
Chapter Seven
It took Harold Weinstein longer than usual to navigate his commute home. He stopped to pick up flowers for his unsuspecting wife. Gina, the love of his life, was in for a rude awakening. She was about to find out her husband, the mild mannered CPA, was a secret marble collector. It was a compulsion he’d had since he won his first cat’s eye from Jimmy Chiclets in the second grade. He remembered holding the perfect marble to the light and watching what seemed to be an independent strike of green color wink at him. He was hooked.
He thought about the word collector and then about the word hoarder and feared he was more the latter. Well, the cat’s eyes were out of the bag, and he would face the music. It’s not that Gina would be horrified by his compulsion but be disappointed in the many ways he covered it up. How did those scamps find his stash? He had mindfully contained the boxes and bags full of the gems in the attic of the garage. There he spent many a delightful hour polishing and going through his collection.
He turned off the rural route and onto his street. The houses here were old and the lawns large. He was able to have a large garage independent of the house here. His neighbors were a mixed bag of cultures and ages. They all kept up their property and looked out for the others. All in all, he wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.
Harold drove around the large class A recreation vehicle and the small truck with a ghost being chased by little yellow chicks on the side. Ghost hunters indeed. The Seaver couple were the most down to earth people he’d met. How had they been sucked into believing in ghosts? But if the group they hired were able to catch the little monsters that took his marbles, then who was he to doubt their sanity?
He pulled into his drive and opened the garage door. Gina stepped out on the porch, wrapped in the afghan from the couch. The back of her hair was mussed. He suspected she had a little nap on the couch waiting for him to come home. He reached into the back of the car and pulled out the vase of roses.
He carried it to her, stood there studying her face, and confessed, “The marbles are mine. I’ve got a problem.”
Gina took the arranged roses from him, noting the marbles that rattled at the base of the vase. “Harold, it doesn’t matter, as long as you’re happy and bring me flowers when you think you’ve screwed up.” She leaned over and kissed him. “Now go over to that big truck, introduce yourself and collect your… collection. I understand a few of them are worth a pretty penny.”
Harold’s face brightened, more for the acceptance Gina had of his problem than the possible worth of the orbs of glass. “Thank you, dear. I’ll be right back.”
Mia, who was sitting on the edge of the back of the truck drinking her third cup of coffee for the evening, watched the exchange of the couple. “Head’s up, the marble collector is headed our way,” she notified Ted who had been working out a line of computer code.
“Mike, we have company. Put on your pants, and be prepared to meet Mr. Weinstein,” Ted said into the mic before joining Mia at the back of the truck.
“Excuse me,” Harold said, approaching the couple. “I believe you were recently pelted with my collection of marbles. I’m Harold Weinstein, Gina’s husband.”
“Ted Martin, and this is Mia Cooper,” Ted said, reaching out and giving the man a hearty handshake. “We think we found them all, but we suspect we’ll find more in the light of day.”
“There are quite a few of them,” Harold admitted.
“Do you have an inventory?” Mia asked.
Harold blushed and was glad that the dimness of the streetlight would help camouflage his discomfiture. “I don’t have a list. I just play with them,” he admitted.
“Bravo! “ Mia said. “Finally, I have met a man who I can understand. Why have all of the pretty orbs without playing with them. Some people collect things and never take them out of the boxes,” she said, not without adding a little disgust to her tone.
Her comments made Harold feel better.
“I will advise you that some of them are quite valuable,” Ted said. “Our colleague, Mike has a printout of what he’s identified as the most valuable ones. Of course we didn’t have time to go through the whole bunch.”
Harold scratched his head. “I’ve never paid more than a few dollars for them. I’ll have to track down the owners and…”
Mia’s face broke into the biggest smile. The flash of her teeth and sparkle in her eyes animated her features, giving her an other-worldly look. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Mr. Weinstein. What you do with them is your business, but I’m pleased to meet such a good honest man.”
“Who’s an honest man?” Mike asked exiting the RV.
Audrey followed him down the steps with a packet of paper and a Tupperware container full of the expensive orbs.
Introductions were exchanged. Ted and Mike took a hand
le of the heavy container of marbles and followed Harold across the street.
“I don’t know if it’s the return of his treasure, or something else, but I think that man is happy enough to skip,” observed Audrey.
“I think it’s the boy in him rising to the surface. They can’t help it you know. The more they try to convince the world that they are responsible citizens, the more the inner boy demands time to come out and play,” Mia said sagely.
“So this is why you put up with so much from Ted and the guys. You actually understand them,” Audrey said.
“I don’t understand them as much as love them. Each of the PEEPs men is an individual. Some more mature than others. But they are all little boys at heart. They would be more content with a blanket fort and a scary story than a mansion and a big screen television. My relationship with Murphy has taught me to look beyond the physical and into the souls of people I meet. Sure, I’ve had some bad experiences; we all have. But for the most part, if you look deep enough, you will find a good person all knotted up in the tangled yarn of their wants and needs. The trick is whether or not they will let you help them unravel it, or maybe they are content to live that way.”
“Honestly, you should write a book,” Audrey said.
Mia broke out laughing. “And call it what, A Lunatic’s Ravings?”
“That has a nice ring to it,” Audrey replied. “But I was thinking more… Observations of the Absurd.”
This sent Mia running to the bathroom in a fit of laughter.
“So you guys actually think the place is haunted,” Harold asked as he transferred his collection from the PEEPs trunk to the original containers he found tossed around on the wood floor of the attic.
“Right now we have a strong feeling that something paranormal is going on,” Mike said evenly. “Haunts are different, usually confined to a building or a person. There are a lot of indications that young spirits are involved, but why they are concentrating their attention to this neighborhood remains a mystery.”