In the Dead of Night (39 page)

But, back to the ranch we go…or rather, the back porch of the Carter House.

“It will take less time to explore the grounds than we originally anticipated, so if we could all meet back here in half an hour, then Fiona will prepare us for our tour of the inside of the house,” Jackie announced. “Stick together and for God’s sake keep your eyes peeled for anyone who looks suspicious! The Carter House staff will do the same. Afterward, Fi has a story to share with us from a good friend of hers whose grandmother used to be the curator here.”

Actually, there are lots of stories from this friend of hers, who will remain unnamed due to her request for privacy. Just know that it should be an interesting tale. This lady made me totally forget about band practice one night while listening to her stories. I didn’t even bother to respond to my band’s angry texts to get my ass immediately to Madison for rehearsal.

“Where in the hell is our supposed police protection?!” asked Justin. “Don’t tell me that they ain’t here because it’s still light outside!”

“Well, it’s true, Justin,” said Jackie, which drew looks of surprise from all of us—including Fiona. “No one knows we’re here, and they’ll meet us at the Carnton—”

“No one knew the Anderson family was planning to meet us last night. Right?” said Tony, angrily interrupting her. “Whoever killed them could be around here hiding with a high-powered rifle, ready to pick us off one by one.”

“You don’t remember the announcement on our website last week, after Chet Anderson won the contest to co-host last night’s investigation?” Jackie sounded perturbed. “That information was also mentioned during our commercial spots for more than a week. I’ll bet my life that’s how the killers knew where we’d be…. All they had to do was follow Chet as he drove to the cemetery. That’s probably how George and Melissa got killed as well—somebody must’ve followed them from Tom’s place. We’re in more danger staying home than we are out here today.”

Faulty logic, completely. But when Fiona nodded her support of Jackie’s view, most of us agreed to move on to the next thing on our agenda. Only Tony sulked, while shaking his head.

“Is that where Ed will meet us, too, at the Carnton?”

My question this time, and one where I felt the answer would benefit us all.

“Yeah, I thought Fiona told you,” said Jackie, glancing at my wife, who sheepishly said she forgot to mention that fact to me earlier.

Since we had a lot to accomplish that afternoon, as long as these two ladies were comfortable with being there, then I was ready to get things rolling. I gave Tony a brotherly slap on the back and motioned for my group to follow me to the first appointed location to begin our investigation.

I should mention here that many of the buildings on the grounds have their own special place in history. One building is reportedly the most bullet-riddled structure still standing from the Civil War, and it looks like it. It once served as an office for the family when the Carter House unwittingly ended up in the middle of the Battle of Franklin. One can only imagine what it was like for anyone near the structure when it fell under fire. I’ve often wondered if that was the reason it was painted blood red…. It seems so apropos.

Jackie’s estimate that the investigation wouldn’t take long turned out to be true. Our team managed to go through everything outside in a matter of twenty minutes. It might’ve taken even less time, had we not had to converse with each other as part of our reality show. Unfortunately, there weren’t any notable gems from Justin or me, other than his grumbled threats about getting shot and becoming a mean ghost on this property.

At least Tony managed to get us to laugh about a scary experience with a shadow phantom he encountered on the property when he came out here one night alone. When we regrouped on the back porch, Fiona announced that Detective Ed would meet us at the Carter House after all, and planned to travel with us to the Carnton. 

Well,
Shit!

But, when I considered that everyone is barely holding it together for the sake of the television series’ survival, a bonafide gun-carrying cop might be the very thing to cure our ills. In the meantime, Fiona told a story about the lady who used to be the curator of the Carter House, Mrs. S—our friend’s grandmother. Mrs. S. was a wonderful lady that the older members of the staff still spoke of warmly—especially those that were considered experts in the local history pertaining to the civil war.

Anyway, one day when Mrs. S. was giving a tour of the house, a young man joined the group, preferring to linger near the back, behind everyone else. Dressed in clothes from another era, this young man repeatedly contradicted everything that she described—in particularly what the family did with certain rooms on the main floor. When it came time to visit the basement, everyone headed downstairs…except for him. Mrs. S. later described the young man as suddenly turning pale, as if he had seen a ghost. He turned to leave, moving through the house to the front door. She followed him, in fear that this oddball kid might try to steal something from the house, although he didn’t stop to touch anything.

When he reached the front door, he opened it and immediately picked up his pace as he moved down the steps. Bernice watched the young man proceed into the front yard, where he promptly vanished into thin air.

Greatly disturbed by what she had witnessed, she was later cleaning the main parlor to this famous home. As she dusted old photographs, Mrs. S. gasped when she came upon one of them…. The image of the young man looking back at her was identical to her mysterious visitor from that afternoon. The young man in the photograph was Todd Carter, who grew up in the house. He had traveled with the Confederate army that attacked the Union forces in Franklin. But alas, Todd was mortally wounded in his own backyard.

The family brought him inside, and he spent his last few days on earth dying in the very basement the mysterious visitor refused to visit.

As Fiona had previously shared that story with Tom and Jackie, they stood by watching everyone else’s reactions knowingly. Lots of ooohs and ahhhs—especially from the camera crew, who weren’t supposed to comment in any way during the filming of our ghost hunting activities.

From there, we toured the inside of the house, and spent an hour snapping pictures while we left several stationary recorders in hopes of capturing EVPs (electronic voice phenomena). Just as we packed up our gear to leave, around 4:45 p.m., Mr. Ed showed up.

“Fiona…Jimmy,” said Detective Silver, soon after exiting his preferred sedan. “We should probably talk before we set out on the road to your next stop. Jackie, too.”

Dressed casually in jeans—a first in my presence since we first met six years earlier—he seemed more uptight than usual. Many of you will remember Ed as a fairly handsome dude with slicked back dark hair that is surely dyed. But his light brown eyes needed that sort of thing or he’d look older than the fifty years he’s resided on planet earth.

I’m trying to be nice here, since the majority of Dick Tracy’s likeable traits are physical. Although, he was a lot more fun to make fun of when he sported a pussy-tickler moustache. Someone told me that he read our last book and decided to shave the sucker as a result. But now I see why he wore the damned thing, since the dude’s lips are thin and seem stark naked without the wee caterpillar beneath his nostrils.

“What’s up?”

Gotta love Jackie and her directness. But rather than tell her, Ed directed the three of us to step away with him to the bullet-riddled building, maybe fifty feet away from where everyone else waited on the porch.

“We’ve got a lead on the bullets, although nothing’s set in stone,” he advised. “We’re fairly certain they were purchased in Cookeville in October.”

“Well, that’s good...right?” said Fiona, wearing a hopeful expression, as if she desperately wanted him to tell her that our nightmare was almost over. “It shouldn’t take long to track down the person or persons who made the purchase.”

Ed shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortably, either from the news he came to share…. Or, perhaps it was the fact I intently tried to bore a hole in the middle of his forehead with my silent contempt.

“I can’t give you a name yet, since it was likely an alias,” he said. “But we know beyond any doubt that the individual who made the purchase has been linked to an extremist group based in Tupelo, Mississippi. The Feds are on their way to Nashville to review our findings and decide what course of action to take.”

How’s that for a whole lot of semi-clear, semi-vague information? Jackie nodded thoughtfully, and Fiona looked as if she was trying hard to picture how this development would affect us. As for me? I felt that time was a-wastin’ and we had our bigger investigation to get to soon.

“Does this have any impact on our plans to visit the Carnton this evening?”

No worries. I made sure I didn’t sound disdainful; although he eyed me critically once I popped this question. Well, maybe I sounded a little curt, since unless he had solid evidence that this extremist dude from Mississippi who likes to shop for deadly bullets in Cookeville was now waiting for us at the Carnton, then this conversation could wait until later. No doubt, Fiona heard my silent musings. At least she smiled at me...maybe on account of the same thing.

“The killer, or killers, could very well be there. They could even be here,” he advised, eyeing me evenly. Invisible light sabers were now drawn between us. “Truth is, until we have a better handle on the group’s preferences and movements, which we should get a briefing on by tomorrow, it could be better for your group to lay low.”

“Well are the Franklin cops going to be in attendance as promised?” asked Jackie. “There are supposed to be four of them, from what I gathered earlier.”

“Yes, they will still be there…but….”

“Well, why don’t we at least make an appearance there, and if I get a feeling of danger, we’ll leave immediately,” advised Fiona, drawing a quizzical look from Ed. He obviously was counting on her support of his not so subtle suggestion to cancel our Carnton visit. “I promise, Ed, if I get even the slightest sensation that anything’s amiss, we’ll immediately leave.”

“Well, that’s what I was afraid of,” he said, frowning. “I brought eight bullet proof vests. Sorry I couldn’t procure enough to cover both your group and the camera crew…someone will have to be extra careful.”

He looked at me, and suddenly the frown lifted toward a slight smile. I guess it wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to determine who would be asked to take one on the cheek for the team. But, hell, I was used to this. After all, I was the only one not afforded an escort the summer before last, before anyone knew that it was our partner, Angie, who had gone on a killing spree against any and every soul connected to Candi Starr.

“Hey, I’m game for going commando,” I said, drawing looks of horror from my dear wife and Jackie, and amused loathing from our friendly neighborhood dick. “And, my hunch is we won’t hear from these crazy assholes tonight. But, I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

And with that I politely excused myself from Detective Silver’s presence and rejoined my buddies waiting to find out what the fuss was about. My confident smile did little to ease their fears that Mr. Ed’s presence was synonymous with more tragedy on the way.

Chapter Four

At first, it didn’t seem like Ed’s presence would be as loathsome to the group as it was to me. That was before the eight bulletproof vests were laid out on the back porch of the Carter House, and we decided who would get one and who would not. The snickers and jokes immediately faded, as if siphoned into the late afternoon November air that had dropped at least ten degrees since our arrival. No one smiled then, unless my smirk and Detective Silver’s placid grin counted for anything.

“You know…maybe I’ll just hang here and you guys can do your thing at the Carnton,” said Ricky, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

If it had been me who was strapped to an expensive camera right then, I might’ve snapped his picture. Ricky has always been a cavalier guy that likes to do nutty things like roller skate through the parking lot of my former employer or hang glide without a helmet. Seeing a permanent photograph of him acting like a pussy might be the best way to ensure he never lets it happen again. Fortunately, Tony’s sneer and Justin’s disgusted expression seemed to have a coercive effect, and Ricky shook his head as if debating whether or not to cave in to the peer pressure.

“It’s a long walk back to Nashville,” said Tony, glaring at our newest member. “So, if you wanna turn chickenshit on the rest of us, be my guest. My question is what would be the fairest way to divvy up the vests?”

“The girls should have their pick first,” I said, not caring if this was supposed to be Ed’s moment to offer his opinion or not. I felt a warming surge of glee as his mouth lay open and not a damned thing came out. Yep, Eddie boy, I just stole your stage and speech. “After they pick, then we’ll decide which two guys will join me Rambo style.”

“You don’t want a vest?”

Justin shot me a distrustful glance.

“No, I don’t,” I said, ignoring the worried gaze I felt leveled at me by Fiona. No, it’s not a death wish, but I truly felt Ed had needlessly heightened the fear factor by bringing this stuff with him. “I think I’ll be fine. Besides, our latest contest winners are driving up to join us from Pulaski. They’re not going to be protected any more than I am…along with whichever two guys among us either volunteer to join me or draw the shortest straws.”