In the Dead of Night (18 page)

“Or, that we haven’t gotten permits to carry our handguns with us,” I added.

“Concealed weapons?” asked Jackie, her tone less surprised than I would’ve expected.

“Sounds sort of fun,” deadpanned Angie, her impish smile returning. She winked at Tom, who finds the whole idea of bearing arms distasteful—regardless of the reason. “I guess the Aleas have moved past the Tazer stage—gonna pack some real firepower, now! You sure you won’t hurt yourself, Cracker Jack?”

Everyone found that funny, overpowering the ‘hell no’ that came out as a mumbled response from my throat. More shit to tease Jimmy about, how lovely.

“Anyway, Ed told me he would research the Buick emblem on the grill this evening before he leaves the office,” said Fiona, herself chuckling, but determined to keep us on track. “It should narrow down the model and year.”

“I understand.”

No I didn’t…but what in the hell could I do about it now? Tired of the jokes at my expense, I wanted desperately to let the subject go…at least for now. My ghost hunting pals were far from ready to drop the subject.

We spent the next hour talking about it, even after our food arrived. Rather, everyone else asked questions, and I gave answers…mostly curt ones. It did little to help matters, but I was in no mood to be a cooperative subject. It wasn’t until we finally moved on to a brief overview of how we wanted to set up our gear at Ms. Thompson’s place that I received a true reprieve.

Once the last ribbing ended, and we’d had our fill of bratwurst, pig knuckles and kraut, we prepared to leave. The plan was to leave all vehicles other than Tom and Jackie’s in the Gerst Haus’s parking lot and return for them as soon as we finished our investigative work. Justin and I rode with Jackie and Angie, in the back seat, and Fiona hitched a ride with Tom and Tony. My wife advised she had something to discuss with Tom, our technical whiz., on the way to Charlain’s.

It was nearing eight o’clock when we pulled up into the Thompson house’s curved driveway, and Charlain was waiting for us. She stood in the middle of her driveway with her arms opened wide. Was it a wicked grin I detected in the dwindling sunlight? Or did it just seem naughty, as she stood in the shadowed half of the driveway?

She looked even more unapproachable, like a damned vampire fatale who hadn’t fed in years. Fiona had assured us that Charlain was truly harmless, but Dragon Lady was really creeping me out. I had no doubt that all of us guys felt the same way. Something about
how
she just stood there…. It was as if she’d been out here in her driveway for an hour or longer.

“Here goes nothing!” whispered Justin, glancing worriedly in my direction.

Tom and Tony had already exited the vehicle, and I followed him out of the backseat wearing a forced smile.

Showtime.

Chapter Sixteen

“Wel-l-com-m-m-e, Fiona! Welcome as well to her troupe of spirit investigator-r-r-s-s!!”

What in the hell??

Okay, this was really weird. First she’s out in the middle of her driveway acting like Jesus at the Second Coming, and then she sounds like Joan Crawford fired up on crack cocaine. Keep an eye out for an oversized hatchet hidden behind her, man…or at least a metal hanger or two. A shot of Thorazine or Prozac might be in order.

All four of us guys approached her, cautiously, moving up the driveway as a group to where she stood, glancing warily at one another. Fortunately, the security light’s glow illuminated the area surrounding the crazy lady.

Fiona wasn’t near as cautious, and she stepped up to Charlain and accepted her embrace. I doubt this Nashville debutante saw my wife’s perplexed look when she glanced back at me.

More proof that something was definitely ‘off’ here.

“We’re ready to get started if you are,” said Fiona, returning her attention to Ms. Thompson.

“How
excellen-n-nt-t-t!!
Everyone follow me in-n-n-s-s-i-i-d-d-d-e!!!”

Wearing a white smock and tan slacks, Charlain lightly pulled up on her pant legs as she moved up the steps to her home’s main entrance—like she wore an evening gown instead. Very odd, and now Jackie gave me a disbelieving look, while Angie snickered softly. Great, that’s all it might take for Dragon Lady to snap out of her weirdness and return to her normal high-society bitch self. Bet you’d
love
that, Angie babe!

I could deal with it all, and might even consider it somewhat refreshing, as long as Charlain didn’t get in the way of our investigation. Ghost hunting is a lot like trout fishing….don’t make too much of a fuss or you’ll scare the spooks away. All we’d need is for our host to continue her grandiose promenade much longer, and this investigation’s prospects would become toast.

For some reason I thought of Lizzy Robertson…not sure why. Maybe it’s because we passed under the window where Tom caught the image that looked an awful lot like her face. Or, maybe it had something to do with our hostess’s bizarre behavior.

“Jimmy, I want you to come with me while we help Tony and Justin set up the main floor,” Fiona advised, after slowing down to rejoin me. She seemed a little uptight, which made me think her train of thought might be similar to mine. “Jackie and Angie will join Tom upstairs. We should have the remote cameras and recorders on line in the next ten minutes or so.”

Stuff I already knew. But her nervousness let me know that my main job for this investigation would be to hang around her as much as possible—at least until she felt comfortable again. Not sure if her unease was due to Charlain’s behavior or perhaps a hostile spiritual presence she picked up

Lizzy, or her incestuous father, Jeremiah??

Or, maybe it’s our Mafia stalker…. Was he somewhere nearby, hiding in the wooded landscape or perhaps inside the house?

Well,
shit!
That’d sure make things interesting tonight.

It made me pay even more attention to the ostentatious décor…the tall ceilings, imported draperies, and a gallery above with all kinds of nooks and crannies. Such wonderful places to hide and watch from—for both the living and dearly departed.

We followed Charlain into the kitchen, beyond the enormous living room. Hell, even the kitchen was huge. Damn near twice the size of ours, with two islands and an extra pastry oven.

“The children will retire soon, so I trust this experiment will last no more than an hour?”

She posed this question while pouring herself a small glass of milk. Fiona and I both politely declined to join her.

“We can do a basic investigation that usually takes a little over an hour,” Fiona advised. “But, are you sure that’s what you want? You asked for a full scale tour when we talked yesterday, and that normally takes two to three hours.”

Charlain looked momentarily confused, like she couldn’t recall that conversation. I swear, man, her eyes turned a shade darker. I wasn’t sure what color they were when Fiona and I first met her, a few weeks back. I could’ve sworn they were either gray or light blue, or maybe even green back then—definitely nowhere near the dark hazel they were now. It was like someone else stood before us.

Ah, Jimbo…get a grip, buddy. Probably just some fancy contacts she’s wearing.

For a frigging visit from our friendly paranormal investigative group? That’s like wearing an evening gown for a plumber’s call. That only happens in porn flicks. I could tell by Fiona’s expression she’s picked up on other contradictions as well.

“Okay. We’ll make every effort to be done within an hour,” said Fiona, not waiting for our host’s reply. “Jimmy and I will let the others know the game plan and make sure we’re finished by nine-thirty at the latest.”

“That should work marvelously!” beamed our host, her smile smug.

A trait that made her seem more like herself, I didn’t linger on her expression. Not with those eyes boring into me…. This bitch could hardly stand my ruffian presence just a few days ago, and yet now she found me alluring?

It might not even be a sexual attraction thing…it could be something else.

“She’s obviously not herself,” whispered Fiona, right after we left her presence and headed back into the living room. “I’ll go check on the girls and Tom, if you don’t mind hanging with your buddies down here.”

Is she kidding? After getting scrutinized by what I feared might be the female version of Hannibal Lecter, I couldn’t wait to rejoin the presence of my two best friends outside of Fiona and Ricky.

“What up, Jimmy boy!”

Justin and Tony were finishing the main floor set up, positioning the last camera while being extra careful to not scratch the finish on an enormous cherry bookshelf that dominated one wall.

“Glad to see you two again,” I said, holding the connecting cords to the camera’s video and audio feeds while Tony and Justin secured the connections on either end. “This is turning into one of the weirdest investigations I can recall.”

“Is that the same lady who gave us so much shit the other night?” asked Justin, looking up toward the gallery, squinting slightly as if he just saw something.

I followed his gaze, but didn’t detect anything odd—at least nothing paranormally odd.

“Afraid so.”

“I guess we all can see a big difference tonight,” observed Tony, without looking up until he finished his task. “As long as she’ll stay nice to us, that’s all I frigging care about. I don’t need any more bitches to deal with—especially after the shitty boatload of escalations I took from the douche-bag queue today.”

Yeah, that would do it. Glad I didn’t have too much of that crap to put up with at the call center that afternoon.

“Well, the good news is we’ll only be here for about an hour, and then we can leave this scene,” I told them, feeling a little more relieved as I said this.

“What? You mean we went to all this trouble for just a frigging
hour?”

Normally happy-go-lucky, Justin sounded pissed. He looked pissed too.

“We’ll just have to move around here a little faster tonight,” I told him, going into my supervisor mode. Hell, I deal with this type of thing all day, so it ain’t no big thing…at least not yet. That all depended on what Crazy Charlain did next. “As soon as we complete our walk-through on the main floor, we can see about trading places with the girls and Tom.”

That idea seemed to brighten Justin’s countenance, though not as much as it did Tony’s.

“What the hell are we waiting for!” he enthused, getting his camera and EMF detector out.

I glanced over at Justin, who apparently had finagled Tony’s new audio recorder from him. His camera already prepped, he motioned for us to follow him out of the living room. Before we made it to the kitchen, Charlain greeted us.

“Would you like to see where he hung me…the rafter above where he
beat
and
raped
me?”

Holy shit!!

I do believe Justin nearly dropped poor Tony’s recorder. Really, in a way it should be ‘poor Justin’, since he didn’t see her until he bumped into her bosom. It made for a very awkward moment, and a complete invasion of his personal space as she delivered her latest bizarre statement. He’s probably destined for some nightmares…nothing like a face-to-face encounter with a crazy-eyed white bitch talking rape and murder. Good thing this is the twenty-first century and not the nineteenth.

“Wh-h-o did that to you?” he asked, backing into us while trying to get away from her. Our Dragon Lady completely freaked him out.

“Why…
he
did!”

She pointed at me. As she did, her smile faded…faded fast actually. Her expression changed to anger, and the only positive out of this were her empty hands. No sharp objects in them…yet.

Shit, where’s Fiona when I need her??

“Jimmy? No, you’ve got the wrong guy, Ms Thompson,” said Tony. “I’ve known this guy for years, and he couldn’t hurt a puppy dog…much less another person.”

I’m sure he expected his well-intentioned supportive comment to ease the growing tension around us. I hoped so, too—
prayed
it would. But the frigging look in her eyes changed…. Were they turning black? No way. No frigging way!

“Jimmy?!”
she repeated, her tone derisive while eyeing us both angrily. “No…
no
Jimmy. This is Jeremiah!
My
stepfather. He tried to
kill
me, and I’ve been waiting
so-o-o-o
long to pay him
back!!”

There were still no visible weapons—thank God! But it was definitely time to
go!
Time to get the hell away from this place…this Twilight Zone house. Fiona told me how the more ‘normal’ Charlain told her how chairs get stacked upon each other throughout the main floor. Charlain’s kids also confirmed this, she told me, and their worsening terror was largely responsible for Fiona moving this investigation up near the top of our ‘to-do’ list. Maybe all along Charlain has been responsible for this freaky funhouse.

“Oh, okay—I get it!” laughed Justin, slapping at his knee and nearly dropping the recorder again. “You’re acting like Lizzy Robertson, the girl who killed herself like, what…a hundred and forty years ago?
Right??
”