The Haunting of Cragg Hill House

by Elyse Salpeter

  Tooh grinned and leaned towards them again. “She’ll do no such thing. You think she and I got so fat on carrot sticks? Who do you think steals slices of Ma’s signature banana pie for her when she gets a hankering at two in the morning?” He winked and patted his stomach, and then nodded towards the glass-enclosed dessert server sitting by the wall. It was filled with cakes, pies, and every type of croissant Kelsey could imagine. “That woman has my number on speed-dial.”

  Tooh took their order, left and Kelsey shook her head. “Everyone here is so amazing. It’s almost weird. Like it’s too nice.”

  Desmond snickered and took a sip of coffee. “You’re always questioning things.” He sat back and considered her for a moment, grinned and then mimicked her voice perfectly. “Coincidence, I don’t think so. I don’t believe in them.”

  She kicked him hard under the table. “Smart ass.” But, it was true. She didn’t believe in them.

  Kelsey leaned in and took a sniff from the bouquet of pink roses on a vase at their table. The blooms were sweet and beautiful. She peeked at the other guests. Besides themselves, only four other tables were occupied. A man sat by himself at the table closest to them. He read the business section of yesterday’s paper and had two cellphones and an iPad resting on the table in front of him. His Apple watch was set to silent, but she could see it illuminating constantly with messages coming in. The man would stop reading to flick his wrist to check it periodically. Occasionally, he’d sip from his coffee cup or spear one of the remaining pieces of fruit on his plate. Not that he seemed to be enjoying either of them. His frown spoke volumes.

  He looks very familiar. Kelsey tried to place him, but couldn’t. He was good-looking, like an actor, and had that kind of handsome, angular face that just seemed to get better looking as he aged. But, his hair was cut too short to be trendy, and his shave was so close, his skin seemed to glow. Was he military? A politician? Kelsey didn’t let it bother her. She was sure she’d remember who he was soon enough.

  She heard giggling and turned to see a couple who were cuddled together in the booth a few tables away. They sat directly next to each other, with their hips touching, instead of catty corner like she and Desmond were sitting. The single man occasionally peered around his paper and scowled at them in apparent disapproval. He obviously either had a problem with it being two women who occupied the booth and had eyes for no one else in the room, or that they would be so demonstrative in public. So they held hands and kissed occasionally? Who cared what other people did with their lives? It wasn’t like the women were naked and going at it right on the table.

  A vision, a memory suddenly popped up in her mind unexpectedly. It was so clear, Kelsey felt as if she were reliving it like it was yesterday and not one of her recollections from thousands of years before.

  Mara reclined on his divan and clapped. The female couple stood, their legs still shaky from crouching in one position where they’d been performing for him. Choke holders, leather whips and iron chains bedecked their otherwise naked bodies. One woman wore a strap-on and was now unhooking it.

  Tanha lounged on her throne and toyed aimlessly with the exquisite strand of black pearls weaved through her luxurious mane. She was bored of the entire dance.

  “There must be something more than this,” she’d thought. “Something more… fulfilling.” But then the next couple rose to the stage and started their performance, and her body betrayed her. She couldn’t help but watch.

  Kelsey started. Now that she was in-tune with the memories from her youth, anything could trigger them and there was nothing she could do about it. So now it was the two women before her. She glanced at Desmond, but he seemed not to have noticed that she’d “stepped out” again for a brief moment. She vaguely wondered how long she’d be able to hide this from him.

  She returned her gaze back to the women. Both were attractive and if she had to guess, in their early to mid-thirties. She adored how wildly different they were. One had a short, white-blond asymmetrical haircut. The short side was shaved boyishly close to her head but the other side sported longer hair that she flipped over so it stylishly came to rest on her opposite cheek. A long-sleeved gray T-shirt, Khaki pants and expensive Sorrel Winter boots completed her look. Her partner was much girlier. Her long chestnut wavy hair was left wild to flow down her back, and she wore tight, skinny gray jeans paired with a gauzy white top so sheer, Kelsey could see right through to the lacy camisole underneath. Kelsey ogled the woman’s sexy Jimmy Choo gray suede booties. She’d wanted a pair for herself, but the store had been out of her size.

  It was obvious to Kelsey the women were either on their honeymoon or celebrating something special. They were practically in each other’s laps and shared their breakfast, dipping their forks into each of the other’s plates. Just like the honeymoon couple she saw in Alaska, like the bride, both women had fresh manicures and each had a sparkling diamond band on their ring fingers. The one with the long hair casually glanced up at Kelsey and smiled appreciatively, then turned back to her partner.

  There was a raised voice, and Kelsey glanced across the dining room. Another guest was now speaking heatedly to Dorothea. Dorothea listened intently and seemed to be trying to mollify her. Even from this distance Kelsey could see that the guest admonishing Dorothea was the type of person for which she herself had little tolerance. It was just nine in the morning, but the guest’s Botoxed countenance sported a full face of makeup and she wore an ostentatious fur headband over her brassy red dye job like it was a necessary accessory. The woman literally dripped diamonds and had long manicured fingers painted with bright pink polish that seemed to sparkle as she gesticulated wildly about whatever was bothering her. It was a bit of a wonder she could even talk through lips that seemed to have gone through one too many collagen injections. Her dining partner, a slight man with a thin mustache and, astonishingly, sporting a monocle, paid her no mind and continued to read his paper as if this was the norm. Kelsey had the distinct impression that this was something the man had dealt with more than once.

  The final occupied table held a mother and father with two well behaved children. Kelsey always wondered if it were all an act or if some kids really were that well-mannered. In this case, she got the distinct impression they were. The family laughed together, and when the kids spoke, the parents really seemed to listen. The little boy, maybe all of eight years old, dove into a plate of pancakes and was loudly chatting about a video game between bites. He even wiped his face with a napkin he kept on his lap. His mother listened as if what he said were the most important thing in the world. She called him “Billy” and kept patting his head affectionately. The girl, possibly ten, even waited until her brother finished his comments and then asked her father for the syrup. She daintily poured it over her own stack of hotcakes.

  They have to be aliens. No children are that good.

  Kelsey took a peek into the lounge area outside and then scanned the dining room again. No teenagers.

  Tooh came over to refill Desmond’s coffee cup.

  “Tooh, are these all the guests staying here this weekend?” she asked.

  He nodded. “The blizzard forced a few cancellations. We were hoping those guests would able to get up the mountain in time, or at least right after, but it’s still not shoveled out yet and they’re expecting another storm to come in by dinnertime. To be honest, we’ll be lucky we can get you out by the end of the weekend. This happens every few winters. Not much you can do but make the best of it.” He shrugged. “At least we got food. You won’t starve to death, that’s for sure!”

  A breeze rushed by Kelsey and she shivered. She wasn’t cold, but felt for a moment as if someone had walked over her grave. She choked on her drink and began coughing. Desmond leaned over to pat her back.

  Kelsey glanced up, finally able to catch her breath, and her eyes widened in concern. One of the busboys held a large platter over his head and it tipped precariously to one side. The dishes began to fall to the
floor, one by one, with a loud crash.

  “Hey, watch out!” Tooh yelled out. He dropped the coffee pot onto Kelsey and Desmond’s table and lumbered over to the busboy to help him. By the time he got there, Dorothea, and two other servers had helped the man right himself. The busboy blinked a few times and wavered on his feet. One of the other men took the serving tray. Dorothea gently guided the worker from the room, with soothing words that he would be okay and Dooley would be able to help him. In seconds, other busboys were cleaning up the mess he had made.

  Tooh plodded back to their table and retrieved the coffee pot. “Sorry about that.”

  “Is he okay?” Desmond asked.

  “Oh, he will be. He’s just prone to dizzy spells and needs to rest. Probably not the best job for a busboy though, right?” he laughed. “Leave it to the Craggs to be the greatest bosses ever. I mean, where else would this guy get a full time job with great benefits with a problem like that? Right?” He moved on to another table to refill their coffee mugs.

  Kelsey rubbed her arms absently. The weird feeling she had was still there, but it had lessened. She took a sip of her coffee and stared around the room, determined not to let her feelings get the best of her.

  So these are all the guests staying at the mountain house? If that’s the case, then who went screaming down the hall last night? She was suddenly unsure if she’d actually heard anything since she’d had so much to drink. It must have been Dooley’s tale about the haunting that sparked her imagination and she’d let it run away with her in her inebriated state. Am I actually second guessing myself?

  She stopped ruminating once her food arrived. It didn’t get better than Ricotta-filled pancakes with lemon curd and fruit compote, topped off with freshly squeezed orange juice. She plucked up a plump raspberry, and plopped the sugary goodness into her mouth, and held back a delighted moan. Desmond already plowed into his mile-high omelet as if he hadn’t eaten at nearly midnight the night before. Truffles again. She could see large pieces of them shaved directly onto the eggs. With a pleading expression, she reached over and speared a forkful from his plate. A forkful she felt sure was worth at least fifty dollars from the amount of truffles on it. The exquisite mushrooms, parmesan and a hint of savory flavor exploded in her mouth.

  She let the flavors linger and then glanced back towards the ostentatious woman across the dining room. Her legs were now crossed, and she waggled one leather stiletto heeled boot impatiently while a waiter removed her breakfast dish and replaced it with a new plate of food. No less than three staff members surrounded her, apparently ready to cater to her every whim. They stayed until she took a bite, and then she waved them all away as if they were mosquitos.

  At that moment, Carla strolled into the dining hall with a tiny baby girl held in the crook of her arm. The child’s skin was so alabaster white, she nearly disappeared into the white ruffled dress and matching bonnet she wore. Large, round bright blue eyes shone out of a face so thin the child’s cheekbones made her resemble those emaciated models that walked the runways in Paris. Kelsey watched Tooh lumber over to them with a high chair and helped Carla strap her in. They made great fuss with the seatback and together propped the baby’s head with rolled up baby blankets. Even so, the baby’s head slid awkwardly to one side.

  Kelsey’s heart ached. Something was clearly wrong with the baby and now she understood what Dooley had meant by his comments from the night before. The infant seemed to have very little motor control and could not keep her head up without support. The poor thing trembled occasionally, and her limbs appeared to twitch uncontrollably. She was also prone to making high pitched, uncontrollable squeals.

  Tooh brought over a bowl of food to Carla and Kelsey watched her try to feed the girl. She couldn’t make out what it was exactly in the bowl, but it appeared to be a thin cereal that seemed to be easy for her to eat. Still, the child clearly had issues swallowing and kept spitting the pink-hued gruel back up. Her bib couldn’t keep up and soon her white dress was ruined. Kelsey realized the child’s thinness might not be due to family genetics but to whatever condition the child had.

  Still, Carla kept going until the child had her fill and the staff consistently came by and doted on the baby, who occasionally squealed back with a high-pitched screech. It sounded eerily like the disturbing laugh Kelsey had heard in the hallway the night before.

  I’m ridiculous. It was just this baby I heard last night. Maybe she was fussing and Carla was walking the halls with her. Maybe the bang was the server tray rolling into the door. I have to stop looking into things.

  The baby began to cry. The, a short, plump New Guinean woman, whom Kelsey guessed had to have been Tooh’s mother from the resemblance, emerged from the kitchen. The woman wiped her hands on her white apron and adjusted the red headband she wore to keep her hair back, all the while moving across the room purposely towards Carla.

  “Now what have we got here? You fussing, Miss Hope? You let Mama Jenella help you now. I’ve been feeding guests here for forty years. I think I can feed a little baby.”

  She leaned over and took the spoon from Carla. Tooh stood behind his mother and hid his face in his hands to play peek-a-boo, and the baby giggled. It sounded harsh and sickly, but she was clearly happy. At one point the infant grabbed onto Tooh’s thumb and shoved it into her mouth. Even though Tooh winced as she seemingly bit it, he laughed and let her continue to suck merrily onto it.

  #

  Kelsey and Desmond spent the late morning exploring the property, meandering through the narrow trails the workers had spent the morning shoveling out. The roads—a good two miles down the mountain — were closed, so no one from the town could get up to them, either. With the new storm expected to come in just hours, the Craggs had been advised to sit tight and the plows would start working to dig them out as soon as it was safe.

  Kelsey and Desmond enjoyed the time alone. The lake on the property was the perfect spot for them to cuddle in the gazebo and watch the Canadian geese fly by overhead. The sound of snow blowers rang in the air as the help spent the morning shoveling snow, and soon there were walking paths all over the property.

  The comforting thwack of chopping wood met their ears. “I don’t know why, but I just love that sound. It’s hypnotic to me,” Kelsey mused. The sudden image of a guard whipping someone’s bare, blood-streaked back came to her. Thwack, thwack. Followed by the victim screaming in pain. Followed closely by Mara laughing with glee.

  She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop it, Kelsey. That was a long time ago. Let these memories go.

  “Can we go look for it, Desmond?” Anything to get that picture out of her mind.

  They moved to the south side of the estate and followed the sound to the bottom of the hill, where they spied a set of trails. It was a quick walk before they came upon Dooley and a staff member working. In a beautiful rhythm, the older man hauled a sizeable log from the woodpile onto his chopping block, heaved the axe over his head and in one fell swoop, split it in half. His helper reached out, hoisted up the split logs, and tossed them on a wagon. They worked quickly and seamlessly. Kelsey was amazed at the older man’s physique and physical conditioning, but soon had an idea of why. His suit jacket and vest had been thrown to the side and he’d rolled up his white button-down shirt, revealing his heavily veined, muscular arms. Dooley wiped his forehead with his sleeve, and only then noticed Desmond and Kelsey watching them. He saluted and they waved back, and then they went on their way, leaving the workers to their task.

  Once they were out of earshot, Desmond turned to Kelsey. “You saw Dooley’s arms, right?”

  Oh yeah, she’d noticed. She nodded and they continued along the path, now dotted with small two to three room stone cottages that reminded her of fairytale cabins. They were modeled after the Victorian-styled mansion, but with more whimsy. Moldings were in pastel shades, and each had crooked roofs and colorfully painted doors. Smoke curled gently from many of their lopsided chimneys. Occasionally, she could see thr
ough an uncurtained window and make out simple living quarters inside.

  “You know, even with that hippy ponytail, Dooley doesn’t look like the type of guy who’s on drugs,” Desmond said. “The man is healthy as a horse and he has to be pushing seventy-five, don’t you think?”

  She agreed. “No, he doesn’t look like he’s on drugs at all.” Desmond had, too, noticed what she had. Dooley’s arms were riddled with red welts and needle tracks. They were bruised and red sores dotted the length of his arms, just like a heroin addict. Except, he didn’t appear, or act strung out on anything.

  “Maybe he got hurt or something?” Desmond asked. “Or maybe he has diabetes and has to take shots?”

  “Not on his arms like that. They’re small needles you use for that and you usually do them on your stomach. They’d never make marks like those. Dooley’s are red and seem recent. If he’s not on hard drugs, I think it’s more likely he’s taking steroids. That could be why he’s able to chop wood and has a body like that well into his seventies, don’t you think?

  “They looked pretty bad. Could he have blood poisoning?”

  Kelsey shook her head. “They’d be streaked then, moving up and down his arms. This just looks like injections, and a lot of them.” At that moment, a woman and man rounded the bend about twenty feet before them and halted, as if surprised to see them there. Kelsey froze and gripped Desmond’s arm to steady herself. She blinked a few times.

  He leaned towards her. “Are you okay?”

  No, I’m not. “Does that woman look… odd to you?” Kelsey whispered, haltingly.

  “Odd? She looks fine, except for that missing finger on her left hand that she just hid in her pocket.”