Shell Game

When I went into the PA Room to look at the naturalization index, Claire was at work in there. Looking up at me, she asked,"How's it going?"

"Not great," I said. "I got a message from my sister over the weekend. My cousin Wendy died."

"I'm so sorry," she said. "Was it sudden?"

"Yeah. They don't know what caused it. They're doing an autopsy."

"Was she very young?"

"Much younger than me." I sat down across the table from Claire. "I've been a mess. I broke down and started crying during an episode of Battlestar Galactica this morning; how fucking pathetic is that?"

"Understandable. There are worse things to break down during."

"My mother died twenty years ago this month. On the fifth. So I've been a mess."

My phone buzzed, and I walked over and picked it up. "Hello."

"Hey, Lou, it's Chris."

"Hey!" This was a welcome call. "What's up?"

"You guys doing anything for Memorial Day?"

"I don't know, thought I might grill something."

"You want to come over? We're having some people. I'll be grilling, and we'll have some drinks. All you have to bring is a side dish."

"That sounds great. I'll tell Michelle. Hey, you mind if Paul and I bring our equipment and investigate your house? It's been a little slow lately."

"Sure, no problem. You didn't really think I'd say no, did you?"

"Nah, I knew you'd be okay with it. But I figured it's only polite to ask."

"You remember our house was owned by that guy who owned a seafood place on Grove Street, right? The one they called the Oyster King?"
"Yeah, I remember that. You wrote a column about it a while ago."

"Maybe you'll find his ghost."

"Or the ghost of twelve thousand dead oysters. See you Monday."

A few years back, Chris and his wife Kate had bought a house out in Woodward Township. It was a great place, with a lot of grass, and some garden area. They'd taken to having some nice holiday celebrations, and we arrived with my ghost-hunting bag and some Greek pasta salad.

Tif rolled into the yard near the picnic table, and Paul immediately found the sprinkler to play in. I picked up an iced tea and joined Chris near the grill. 

"How's it going?" he asked. "Making any progress on the Dent's Run gold yet?"

"Very funny. I did have a guy call me about the Joincaire gold last week. He saw one of my articles and wanted to know what other information I had. It never occurs to any of these guys that if I had information leading to a buried treasure, I wouldn't be writing about it for seventy-five dollars a shot."

"Hey, Lou, are you the guy who keeps referring people to me for Keating information?" asked Rich, a retired teacher from the Chapman Township area. "I get these calls from people asking all the time."

"Yeah, some of that probably did come from me," I admitted. "People call me about this stuff, and sometimes I need to send them to a specialist. I'm pretty good in general, but I have the whole county to memorize."

"Food's ready," said Chris. "Everyone gather round."

Paul already had a plate full of chips and watermelon. He added a hot dog and sat down on a bench. I got a hamburger and some pasta salad, picked up a Coors Light out of the cooler, and sat down with him.

"I'm sorry about your cousin Wendy, Daddy," he said.

"Thanks, little guy. I appreciate that."

"Your mom died in May, too, didn't she?"

"Yeah. Twenty years ago this month."

"I never got to meet my grandmother," said Paul. "Sometimes that makes me sad."

"Me, too." Though my mother would have been full of unhelpful and unsolicited parenting advice. "If you like, sometime later we can sit down and I'll show you pictures of her. I can tell you about her."

"Okay." Paul leaned over and hugged me, then kissed my cheek. He doesn't do that as much as he used to.

So I did what I always do when I'm a mess. 

"Hey, kid. After we eat, you want me to get the stuff, and we can investigate Uncle Chris's house?"
"Yeah."

After my hamburger, and another hamburger, and then a hot dog, I walked to the vehicle and got our black bag. I'd brought the big one, with both of our tac vests in it. I hauled it back and set it on the bench.

Paul and I pulled on our tac vests. I was wearing my T-shirt with all the cryptids in America on a map, and I zipped the vest over it. One of the guests, Jeremy, said,"Now, those are pretty neat."

While Tif was taking a photo of Paul, I said,"This one is pretty carefully curated. In past years, I tried everything---Bags, belts....Finally I discovered these. I have a UFO version, and a couple of travel models. This one has all my equipment, and custom-made patches to show where I put things." I lifted the flap on the pocket for my EMF detector, showing the blue lettering saying EMF.

"That's pretty cool," said Jeremy. "Is that velcro?"

"Yep!" I tore it partway off to demonstrate. "So I can change them around if necessary."

"Well, that's pretty neat."

"Hey, Chris!" I called. "We're gonna go check your house for ghosts, okay?"

"All yours," Chris called back. "Go nuts."

"Cool! I wanna look for ghosts!" said a kid playing with some of the beach balls.

I waved my hand. "Sure. Come on."

"No." His mom waved him over. "You just let them do what they do, okay? Leave them alone."

"But mom---"

"No. You leave them alone."

The kid trudged off. I said to the mom,"I actually don't mind if you don't."

"We don't get into that. Because of my faith---" Oh shit. "---I don't want him opening those doors and letting something through."
It doesn't work like that, not even remotely, but I have long since given up trying to educate these types. I said,"Come on, Paul. Let's go find some ghosts."

We went into the house. We'd been there before, plenty of times, mostly for Halloweens and Independence Days. We'd never investigated, though. So holding our laser thermometers and EMF detectors, we moved through the first floor, checking for readings.

"Uncle Chris has been doing a lot of work on the house," I said. "So you know how that can sometimes stir up ghosts."

Paul nodded. "Yeah."

"No temperature fluctuations yet. No EMF readings. Uncle Chris has been doing a nice job on the wiring."

Chris came in behind us. "Hey, guys. Are you recording yet?"

Chris knows how it works. "Nah, not yet. Taking some readings."

"We have some activity in this corner." Chris pointed to the southeast corner of the first floor. "And the cat is always staring at that corner. The cat is probably behind that curtain right now."

I aimed my thermal imager at the window, and saw the small eat blob curled up behind the curtain. "Yeah, she's there."

With that, the cat came out, took one look at us, and escaped into the other room.

Chris laughed. "I'll leave you guys to it."

He went back out to the grill. I turned to Paul. "You want to investigate the basement? It's probably cooler down there."
"Yeah. Let's check the basement."

We wandered down the stairs into the basement, checking with our equipment. I said,"I'm getting a temperature drop over there. In that corner."

Paul checked with his EMF detector. "It goes to orange, Daddy."

"Yeah, we got something."

The cat came down the stairs behind us, and sat on the steps watching us for a moment. I said,"Well, aren't you cute?" and walked over to pet her. She sat and let us pet her for a moment.

When we got back outside, everyone had gathered around the picnic table. I unzipped my vest---I hate it that way; it looks stupid, but it was hot out---And I got another Coors Light. I sat down in one of the lawn chairs.

"Find anything?" asked Chris.

"We're getting some readings in the basement, on the corner near the exterior door."

"This one here?" Kate gestured toward the corner of the house. I glanced over and saw the basement door, covered with a tarp, which I'd missed before.

"Yeah. that's the one."

"The woman in the house died on the second floor in that corner," said Kate. "Her funeral was held on the first floor, in that corner."

I looked over at the house.

"Now, that's interesting."

I held up a fist to Paul, and he fist-bumped me.

The festivities were over, and it was late. I was sitting on the couch downstairs, with Emily the hamster running around in her cage. Probably Ida around, too---Chris wasn't the only one living with a ghost. I was trying to get through Battlestar Galactica again.

"Daddy?"

Paul was coming down the stairs. I said,"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"I can't sleep. The dogs keep moving around."

"Want to hear about your grandmother?"

"Okay."

Paul sat down beside me, and I got out our wedding album. I flipped to a family photo.

"There she is. My mom. See how she's helping Mommy with her wedding dress? She sewed that dress. It was actually the last thing she ever sewed."

"Is this Uncle Jon?"

"It is. But he doesn't have his beard in the photo." I turned to another page. "Here, kid. That's my cousin. Let me tell you all about your family."