From Bad To Curse

I was sitting alone in a dark hallway in Bellefonte, remaining very still and quiet while I waited.
My name is Lou. Among my other jobs, I'm a paranormal investigator. I was wearing my black uniform, identifying me as a member of the Lock Haven Paranormal Seekers. My equipment was in a packet strapped around my leg and hanging on my belt. A digital recorder sat on the floor by my side. My teammates were scattered throughout the house, doing the same thing---Recording and waiting for ghosts. The client, SaraLee, was in the living room.
I've had worse Saturday nights.
"Nine fifty-three." It was my partner Kara, sitting in the bedroom behind me.
"Got it." I picked up my comlink. "Guys, it's nine fifty-three. The client reports a noise almost every night between now and ten-five. It's zero hour. Let's stay tuned."
Ashlin's voice came back from downstairs. "Okay, Lou. We're on it."
I set down the comlink and waited.
We stayed quiet for nine minutes. Until you actually do it, you don't realize how hard it is to sit still and silent. At three minutes after ten, we heard it.
A loud thump, coming from the direction of the living room.
"Did you hear that?" Kara asked from the room behind me.
"I did. There it was."
"Guys, was that you?" Ashlin, from downstairs, coming over the comlink.
"Not us. Unexplained. I'm in motion."
I leaped up and ran down the hallway, looking at the living room. Nothing. I checked out the front door---There was nothing, no car doors slamming, no people walking, nothing all the way up and down the street. I went back down the hall with my laser thermometer, checking each bedroom in turn.
I hit the button on the comlink. "Nothing. Gather in the kitchen, guys."
Kara and I walked down to the kitchen. From the basement stairs, Ashlin came up with the two newest members, Kris and Lacey.
I looked them over.
"We got it on tape," I said. "Nice work, you guys."

"Henry Shoemaker," I said. "Anyone who reads any of my columns will come across the name of Henry Shoemaker."
Ashlin, in the back seat, grinned. "Yeah, pick up any three of Lou's columns, you'll see Shoemaker mentioned about ten times."
It was an exaggeration, but not much of one. Kara was driving in the dark on Interstate 80, heading back to Lock Haven. Rain pattered against the windshield. Ashlin and Lacy were in the back seat. As Lacy was new, we were educating her.
"Tell her about the Giantess," suggested Kara.
"That's my personal favorite," I said. "It happened in present-day McElhattan, back in the sixteen hundreds. A Native American prince, Pipsisseway, fell in love with a girl from another tribe, but she left him for a warrior out west. He had a statue carved to look like her, but it was cursed---When he had it put up on the mountain, crops died, the river flooded, animals swarmed, and finally his dad, King Ironwood, ordered the Giantess taken down and buried underneath McElhattan Run."
Everyone was quiet, listening in the dark.
"So time goes by. Pipsisseway married, had a son. Ironwood died, and Pipsisseway became the king. And one day when his wife and son were traveling, he had the statue brought up and put back on the mountain. Well, the curse kicked in again....And this time it killed him. He died in a successful attempt to save his family."
"Do we know where he's buried?" asked Kara.
"We think we do. I found a cairn out near Zindel Park a few years ago. The people buried him near the Giantess, and there's a hint that the flood of 1865 dug up the Giantess enough that the curse was responsible for the death of Lincoln. The story ends with this spooky note about what will happen the next time it comes up. Well, that was about ten years ago, and it was us."
"Wait, what?" said Lacy.
Kara grinned. I nodded. "Back in 2008, I found a stone humanoid figure underneath the water, in Zindel Park. You have to know where to look. We did some investigating out there, got photos. I've been keeping an eye on it ever since."
"Cool," said Ashlin.
"You ever consider bringing it up?" asked Lacy.
"It'd be expensive," said Kara.
"I've thought about it," I admitted. "But it would be problematic. It's on city property, and in a tough place. My approach has been to leave it alone, and not disturb the curse."

"So, tell me about the Giwoggle," the guy said.
I smiled, standing behind the desk at the library. "Oh, you know the Giwoggle?"
"Well, not really," he said. "My wife saw you giving a tour one night, wearing that shirt." He pointed at my shirt, which did have the Giwoggle on it. "We were wondering about it...."
"Oh, sure. I've written about the Giwoggle a lot. It's Clinton County's official monster. It was from the north end of the county, said to be created by a witch. It was a wolf with the hands of a bird and the feet of a horse. People still spot this thing, along back roads."
He grinned. "Pretty cool. Hey, thanks."
"No problem. Thank you for asking....This is a more pleasant conversation than I usually have on a Monday."
My name is Lou. My job...I don't have a clue in hell how to describe my job. I'm a paranormal investigator, and I work at the local library. I give tours, and I write columns for several publications. I'm never sure what to call this, especially since "Ghost writer" is already taken.
I walked back to my desk and sat down. I did a little work on an article for the PA Wilds. Answered a few e-mails. Then I walked back to the rack, picked up the local newspaper, and sat back down. My column wasn't in it today. Front page---Some school district stuff, some city hall stuff. Weather---Consistent rain, and getting worse. Comics---Doonesbury was pretty good.
I found the article on the front page, and grimaced. Sue, walking by my desk, said,"What's up, Lou?"
"Oh. Ancient curse."
"On the front page?"
"Sort of. In a manner of speaking." I folded up the newspaper. "Now it's a Monday."

"There." Kara pointed out the window of her vehicle. "That's where the witness saw the Jersey Devil. That same house where you say it appeared in 1909."
I looked out the window at the Grove Street house. "Back then, there was Jersey Devil panic on every corner. People were calling off work because of Jersey Devil attacks. It reached out here, this far, with sightings in the winter of 1909. The newspapers report the guy in this house woke up and claimed to see a creature on his roof. He propped a ladder up the next morning, and let his neighbors look at the hoof prints in the snow. What did this witness see?"
"He woke up, late at night, and said he heard hoof sounds. Two hooves, not four. He looked out the window and saw a big shadow, something moving past----"
"Which window?"
"That one there, on that side of the house. He said something near the window growled at him. He didn't go out and check. He sat inside with his rifle the rest of the night." Kara shrugged. "His girlfriend's a friend of mine, and she told me. I thought you'd be interested."
"You thought right. I'll look into it."
Kara started driving again.
"Remember the Giantess curse? We were talking about it the other night?"
"Of course," said Kara. "I was there when you found the thing ten years ago. What's up?"
"I'm a little concerned." This is my social life, driving around talking about monsters and curses. "The local paper reports a huge problem with invasive species out there, bugs and plants that are doing a lot of damage. The city is dealing with it, but I may want to look into it. Guess where it's all happening?"
"You're kidding me. Zindel Park?"
"You got it. And I've seen cases where curses turned out to be real things----One case that was thought to be a curse turned out the be radiation, for instance. Depending on what causes the invasive species, it's not too hard to imagine people a long time ago assuming it's a curse. Now we have the invasive species, plus the latest flood warnings due to all the rain. I want to check it out. I need to get out there."

I stood in my office, on the second floor of my haunted home. The door was closed---The back side of the door, where nobody would see it, was where I kept my ghost-hunting stuff.
I pulled my shirt on: Black, with the LHPS logo. My jeans were black. I pulled on my steel-toed black sneakers, and stood up.
I passed over my tactical vest: For a small apartment, I wouldn't need it. I selected my leg strap instead, clipping it on my belt and snapping the strap around my leg. It held a camera, recorder, laser thermometer, and EMF detector.
I turned, checking myself over.
Ready.

"A camera, where, here?" Kara asked, pointing to a corner of the bedroom. "Would you say this is one of the hot spots?"
"This whole room is," said the client. "We've all seen ghosts in here. We're afraid to go in here anymore."
I walked through the apartment on Main Street, looking things over during our paranormal investigation. Kara and Lacey were busy setting up tripods and recorders.
"The building was built in 1869," I said. "It was part of the old Opera House, which doesn't exist anymore---This section was closed off, but the rest was torn down in 2005. This apartment was once occupied by a pharmacist and his family, and then later, a business owner who buried toxic chemicals in the Hill Section. He committed suicide, but not here---It was in a later home in Dunnstown."
I glanced out the window. I could see the courthouse across the block. I ran my EMF detector along the wall, and got a reading.
"Guys, I'm gonna step outside for a minute," I said. "I want to get a feel for the exterior."
Kara nodded. "Hurry back," she said.
"You want to take the back exit?" asked the client.
I looked up. "There's a back exit?"
The fire escape was tall, thin, and barely attached to the building. I walked down with some enjoyment, and took a walk around the back of the building. It was wedged between two bars. As I walked around the exterior, taking photos from the sidewalk, a flock of drunk girls came out of the Riverside Saloon. One of them called to me,"Hey, could I buy a cigarette off you?"
"You could if I smoked," I said. "I haven't really since my son was born."
"Hey, that's great," she said. "Good for you. It's my friend's birthday."
"Well. Happy birthday."
"How come you're taking pictures out here?" asked the birthday girl.
"Paranormal investigation." Was a time, I felt stupid saying that to people. But that's long past.
"Oooh, cool! Is there a ghost in there?"
"Well, I don't know. We're still looking into it."
"Can I have your autograph?" asked the friend.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah! This is really cool!"
Five minutes later, I walked around the back in the alley. I glanced at the house on Grove Street for a moment---The ghost hunt was right across the alley from the house where the Jersey Devil had been sighted. I looked it over for a minute, then took out my EMF detector and walked across the alley, into the back lot.
It lit up immediately and went red. I walked through the lot, hearing the familiar brrrrrr that meant I was picking up electromagnetic fields. It didn't shut off, which was unusual---It kept consistently getting a reading throughout the entire lot. Power cables strung over my head, and tied into the east side of the building right above me.
I walked back upstairs.
"That took a while," commented Lacey.
"Snd autgrfs," I mumbled.
She wrinkled her nose. "What?"
I sighed. "A couple of drunk girls asked me for my autograph."
Lacey laughed. Kara said,"So, when you weren't performing for the paparazzi, did you learn anything?"
"Well, we're right near the Jersey Devil house," I said. "The back lot, behind the building? It's solid EMFs. Wall to wall readings. I've never seen EMFs so heavy outdoors before."
"Really?" Kara's eyebrows rose.
I held my EMF detector up to the window, which faced that lot. It immediately lit up.
"Wow."
I nodded. "I'd bet on like eighty percent of their problems being caused by the heavy EMFs. You know how some people are sensitive? I think we have our answer, right there."

"So, Dad," I said,"Electromagnetic fields."
My brother-in-law Michel laughed. "You just jump right into it, don't you?"
I was in Slatington, sitting on the front lawn of the house I'd grown up in. It was my brother's birthday, and his wife was throwing him a party. I sat with my food and my iced tea. My son was playing in the yard with his cousins, whom he'd always adored.
"What?" Paul shouted. "You guys are here? Are you very serious? Are you kidding me right now?"
Amy, my sister-in-law, walked past and gave a nod to my shirt. "Is that Bigfoot riding the Loch Ness Monster?"
I grinned at her. "You like it? It's new."
"What about electromagnetic fields?" Dad asked.
"We check for them when there's a haunting," I said. "I had a place on Main Street recently that was packed with them. The parking lot, out back, was wall to wall with them. My detector went off, and didn't stop."
Dad frowned. "That doesn't make any sense."
"I agree, but here we are."
"What's there? Overhead, next to?"
"Apartment building. The power lines come in on that side, connect to the meters. Regular lines, far as I can see. No fields on any of the other sides."
"It could be due to what's in or under the building. Can you check what's buried underneath?"
"I can find that out. How much interest would the power company have in this? Fixing, cutting down?"
Dad shook his head. "None, unless there's a problem. It doesn't hurt anyone."
"Was this at night?" asked Michel.
"Around midnight."
"I'd check during the day, or at dusk," he said. "Street lights could have affected it. A cable would be buried, and it would be off during the day."
"Moving right along, is there a chance that high electromagnetic fields could affect migration patterns in birds?"
"It's possible," Dad said. "That kind of thing can happen. I remember when we put in the high-power lines at Lake Wallenpaupack, and people were concerned about the birds."
I nodded.
"That tells me a lot of what I need to know. Thanks, Dad."

"So I was with my friend, and we found a brick from the Queen's Mansion!" the man said. "How much could we get for that?"
I stood in the Pennsylvania Room, among the history books. "Let me guess," I said. "You found a brick with a stamp on it, that says Queen's Run."
"Yeah! I knew Queen Anne had a mansion over in Farrandsville, and I found this brick! Now I can get rich!"
"I doubt it; they're everywhere," I said. "While it's true that Queen Maria Christina of Spain had a mansion in Farrandsville, the brick with the stamp wasn't part of it. That was manufactured by the Queen's Run Fire Brick Company---They made thousands of them. Queen's Run had nothing to do with the actual queen; it was a mispronunciation of Quinn's Run, named after Samuel Quinn. What you have is a regular, common brick, though an interesting artifact."
He looked at me. "So you're kind of a history guy around here?"
"I dabble."
I pulled out Linn's History, flipping to the part about Wayne Township. I checked for minerals in the area---It was listed in the second column.
I walked out to the main desk, where Joe had shut down most of the lights. "Closing time," he said. "You ready to get out of here?"
"I was beyond ready two hours ago."
I set the alarm, and we all moved out of the library through the back staircase. As we went out into the parking lot, Zach said,"I'll see you guys tomorrow. I have to make a stop at the grocery store on the way home, pick up some baking stuff."
"I have to make a stop, too," I commented. "Some ghost-hunting follow-up."
I climbed on my bike and rode across town down Jordan's Alley. It was dusk; I could see the sky turning pink. I pulled up in the parking lot behind the Main Street apartment, and got out my EMF detector.
"Hey, big guy," I said. "Sun's getting real low."
I pressed the button. It came on and....Nothing. No signal. I walked in circles for a moment, and nothing lit up. It was getting darker. Then the streetlights came on, and my EMF detector beeped.
I walked back and forth. It gave me a patchy, intermittent signal. Not as much as it had lit up the other night, at midnight, but it was finding EMFs. During the day, nothing. But it increased overnight.
Now I need to check the curse.

In the pouring rain, I ran down the path. I was wearing my waterproof jacket, the green one with all the survival equipment concealed in the pockets. I'd been along this path in McElhattan a thousand times, but it looked different. McElhattan Run was up, raging in the wood to my right, and the path was about half covered in water.
I dodged the puddles, trying to get in and out before the path was flooded out. I was going in alone---I couldn't ask Kara to do this. She'd have come.
Up ahead, the path was washed out by rising water. I took three steps and leaped, going over it like Green Lantern and coming down on the other side. I got to the end of the path, and turned left, over the stone bridge. And then I was there. The home of the Giantess.
Zindel Park.
Built in 1929, Zindel Park was a scenic portion of the city water system, coincidentally placed right where the Giantess story had happened. About ten years ago, I'd discovered the humanoid sculpture in the water, and chosen to not publicize it. I stepped up onto the concrete platform above the water, and looked down. The run was churning too much; I couldn't see the Giantess underneath.
Of course it's a flood. This thing was even said to have caused the flood of 1865.
I stepped back down onto the wet, mushy ground and knelt down.
I got my EMF detector out of my pocket, held it up, and turned it on.
Nothing.
Then I lowered it to the ground, and it lit up.
There was magnetism here. At ground level, the place was loaded with EMFs.
And that explains a lot. I looked around at the park. I have some idea what's going on now. Rest easy, Pipsisseway. I got this covered.

"So how was the Main Street investigation?" asked Millie.
It was the monthly LHPS meeting. I sat in the living room with my friends: Millie, Kara, and Theresa. "Went well," said Kara. "We didn't find much on video, and there was a lot of interference on the audio."
"I found a high amount of EMFs in the building and outside," I said. "I think that's their problem right there."
Kara nodded. "I agree."
"Overnight, when the street lights come on, the EMFs go up to incredible levels," I said. "In addition to causing the apartment to feel haunted, I think it caused a Jersey Devil sighting. The EMFs affected migration patterns, screwing up at least one bird. Kara, take your phone and look up 'Great Blue Heron'."
Kara brought a video up on the phone, and played it. It showed a large bird, making a loud, frightening groaning and growling.
"I think that's what the witness saw and heard," I said.
"I think this is crazy, Lou," said Kara. "He's a hunter. He'd recognize this. he said he heard hooves."
"When blue herons snap their beaks, it does make a sort of clopping sound, like hooves. I checked."
"It could have been a deer," said Kara.
"They have been known to come downtown, I'll admit," I said,"But the hunter wouldn't recognize a deer?"
"Enough with the sarcasm."
"I also checked out the Giantess sculpture, out in McElhattan," I said. "I think it's something similar, magnetic fields. The curse, in the story, is described as crops dying, birds blocking out the sun, stuff like that. Which could be caused by invasive species. That could be caused by birds getting off their migration patterns---Birds can carry seeds with them, which can grow and choke out the crops."
Millie nodded. "That makes some sense."
"The ground out there is loaded with iron," I said. "I looked it up. Moving it around, carving it, placing a stone heavily mixed with iron....That could have shifted the magnetic fields. Over time, they'd build up, and cause what the Native Americans would view as a curse. The good news is, once they start digging out there, it can break the field and calm everything down for a while."
"Could be," said Theresa.
"So anyway," I said,"Case closed on that one." I sat back. "Is there any more orange soda?"

The Voychek's In The Jail

"How fast can you get to the post office?" Sue asked me. "You think you're fast enough to deliver this before the staff meeting?"
I looked at the clock. I had ten minutes. "I'm on it," I said. "I have no ideas for a PA Wilds article anyway. Adam, can you put this book away for me? Will I need money?"
"Yeah. About five dollars should do it. You think you can make it?"
I held up a thumb. "Challenge accepted."
I grabbed the package and went outside to my bike. My name is Lou. I work at the local  public library in Lock Haven, Pennsylvania. I'm also a historian, paranormal investigator, museum curator, and days like this, I'm a bike messenger, too.
I raced down to the post office, sent out Sue's package, and raced back. I'd been gone three minutes. Adam said,"Wow. I didn't even have time to put the book away."
We all gathered in the reference room for the staff meeting. We hold them once a month. City founder Jeremiah Church probably had to sit through meetings. He probably hated it. But not having to attend any more meetings was probably one of the advantages of having died in 1874.
We discussed the new cash register and the window replacements. Sue said,"Oh, and somebody left a box of books out back again yesterday, right outside my window. I had Zach bring them in."
"Oh, that was me," said Joe. "I brought them back from one of my delivery stops."
"What happened to the bedbug books?" asked Bill, the maintenance guy.
"Those were the bedbug books," said Joe.
I started laughing. I couldn't help it. Sue turned to Joe. "So you put books with bedbugs outside, and we brought them in for the book sale? Why didn't you put a sign on them?"
"I told Bill. Why did you bring them in?"
"We always bring them in! People leave book donations outside three times a week!"
I could barely breathe. I couldn't stop laughing. New Boss said,"We have insurance, in case of things like bedbugs. Lou, how are your summer programs going?"
I took a deep breath and got myself under control.
"Pretty good. The band on the twenty-eighth had to cancel. Tour attendance is up---I think it might have been the TV show; gave us some free publicity. And I'm stuck for an idea for a PA Wilds article, so if anyone thinks of anything, let me know."
New Boss nodded. "Anything else from anyone? Okay. Meeting adjourned."
I walked out to my desk, right outside the reference room. I sat down and got online. I had half a dozen e-mails from various Piper committees, which I either dashed off replies or ignored for later. I did a quick search for "Clarion County, PA," and found the Wikipedia page, which is useless. With most of the county histories, they often are, and this is why we invented the back button.
The county government page, surprisingly, was better. They had a whole column full of random historic facts, and I read through. And there, I found my article.

"Vincent Voychek," I said. "He's said to be haunting the Clarion County jail. He's the only guy ever hung in Clarion County, just like Luther Shaffer is the only guy ever hung in Clinton. What do you think of onions in the salad?"
"No, not tonight," said my daughter. "So they're similar to us."
"Yes, but they're also unique. He was hung in 1911 for stabbing his landlord, Andrew Stupka."
"What was his story?" asked Tif.
"I want a hot dog, cooked," said my son Paul, playing with his toys at the table.
I stuck a hot dog in the microwave. "He didn't really have a story. He didn't speak English. He went to the gallows in 1911 still claiming he was innocent. He may actually have been; when I e-mailed the Clarion County Historical Society, the woman there sent me an article and told me that Stupka's grandson once had visited, saying he thought Voychek had been framed."
"Wait....The grandson of the victim thought he'd been framed?"
"Yeah. It kinda makes you...."
"Yeah, it makes you think about it," she said.
"So I'm gonna look into it." I gave Paul his hot dog. "Write it up for the PA Wilds, get out there and get photos."
"Working title?"
"Hang In There."
"Of course."
"I may even figure out who did it."
"Won't make any difference to him," said Tif.
"No, not as this all happened in 1911," I said. "But if he's haunting the jail, it might give his ghost some relief."
"If I was killed for a crime I didn't do, I'd haunt the jail," said Tif.
"You never know how these things work. You feel like ranch dressing?"
Paul began playing with his Legos, building a replica of the Susquehanna Seal. As nobody had ever really seen the thing enough to furnish a complete physical description, maybe his portrayal was accurate---Bright colors, corners, and all.
I sat down on the end of the table.
"I haven't announced it yet," I said,"But I'm going to step down from Piper."
It was the first time I'd said it aloud.
Tif looked at me with some surprise. "I'm amazed you chose the museum," she said.
"You knew?"
"I could tell you were considering dropping something. I really didn't expect it to be Piper."
"Well, the Highland Cemetery board doesn't ask for much---A meeting every three months, usually while I'm at the library anyway. I can't leave LHPS; my entire social life is there. The PA Wilds pays well, and I can handle that from home mostly. Times I need to travel for the PA Wilds, we can make it a family trip. I want to spend some more time with Paul, and it's the museum that takes up all my time."
"Well, good for you, Dad. If that's what it takes to make things easier for you....."
"Yeah, out of everything I do, lately I feel the least appreciated at Piper. I do love the place, but it's time to leave. I'll be giving it a little more time before I make the announcement; there's a few things I want to accomplish first."
Paul came over and climbed up into my lap.
"I don't like it when Daddy goes to the museum," he said. "I like it when you play with me."
"Pretty soon, little man," I said. "I'm going to stop going to the museum, so I can play with you lots and lots."

Sue watched me as I paced across the library. "You having a slow night, Lou?"
"More or less. It's been slow all day. No ghosts, no Bigfoot sightings, no UFOs."
"I hate when that happens."
"I'm gonna redecorate," I decided, and headed for the attic.
There was a painting up there---Ole Bull's castle, a big castle on a mountain that had been put there by a famous singer. He'd intended to make a series of towns to replicate his native Norway, but had been ripped off and lost the land. It was now a state park.
The painting had been donated to the library decades ago, by Henry Shoemaker. I picked it up and carried it downstairs.
I climbed up on a stepladder in front of my desk. My office had recently been moved about eight feet, and I'd wound up staring at the wall. I was right in front of the Henry Shoemaker books, and I'd decided to change around the art a little. Hell, I was the one who had to look at it.
I removed the old piece, and stored it. Then I hung up the Ole Bull painting. I sat down at my desk and looked it over for a while. I liked it.
Sitting at my desk, I brought up the website for Clarion County. It took me a few minutes, but I finally found an e-mail address for the webmaster. I wrote up an e-mail and sent it to him, asking about sources for the Voychek information on the site.
Five minutes later I got it back, undelivered, because that e-mail was outdated.
I looked around some more on the site. Finally I found the e-mail addresses for the three county commissioners and three courthouse administrators. Figuring that at least one of them had to be more organized than the webmaster, I copied and pasted my original question into a new e-mail, and sent it off to all six of them.
Half an hour later, I had a reply from a commissioner. He sent me some new information, along with an invitation to visit sometime and see the sights of Clarion County.
You can get away with quite a lot if people know you're going to give them good publicity.

I walked into the hangar of the museum. It was dark, after hours, when nobody else would be around. Slowly, I walked through the hangar, touching the airplanes. one at a time.
The yellow Cub. The Pennsylvania state plane. It's been an honor.
I touched the Tri-Pacer, the Grasshopper. The Comanche, the newest of our acquisitions and one of two I'd arranged. I am going to miss seeing new planes come in. 
I walked to the Aztec, my favorite, touching it, taking some comfort.
Gonna miss you most of all.
I walked upstairs to my office....No longer mine, I suppose. I gathered my personal items---A black jacket with my adventure equipment in the pockets, a couple of books, my coffee mug, my photos of my family. I slid them into my backpack.
Then I took my key off my key ring, set it on the desk, and walked back downstairs.
I walked through the hangar on my way out, taking one last look. Seeing everything as if it were the first time.
Or the last.

I went home. My family was asleep.
I think I did the right thing. My whole life, I've been fiercely loyal to the organizations I join, never leaving. This has generally led to me either getting thrown out eventually, or quitting in anger when I couldn't take it anymore. None of that is a healthy choice. It's time to break the pattern.
I got a beer, walked upstairs to my office, and dropped my stuff. I sat down and turned on the computer. Sitting in the dark, I used four hundred dollars worth of electronic equipment to view an old newspaper article from 1911.
It was the one sent to me by the Clarion County Historical Society. I'd skimmed it, but I hadn't studied it much. The article detailed a lot of the Voychek incident---The crime, the hanging. I read through it carefully, making notes in my PA Wilds notebook. I drank beer from the can while I worked. Did Henry Shoemaker drink beer while he did his research? Actually, he very likely did.
I found a line: "Later Stupka with a lantern in one hand and a poker in the other went to see if Voychek had left the premises. Mike Sidor accompanied him."
I took a sip of the beer.
"Well. A clue."
This is a complicated research technique known as "getting lucky."

"So....It seems like I know what happened."
I was sitting in the car, my wife driving. Tif, Biz, and Paul were in the back as we rode through Clarion County.
"So, what's that?" asked Tif from the back.
"It all started in a bar," I said. "Voychek was involved in a fight, but it broke up pretty quick. He went home and had dinner, and when the landlord, Stupka, arrived, the whole thing started up again. After an argument, Voychek left, and a few minutes later was followed by Stupka and another guy, Mike Sidor. When Sidor came running back saying Stupka was stabbed, Voychek was found carrying a bloody knife, and arrested."
"Wow. Sucks for him," said Biz.
"Yeah, but you look at the facts. There were three people present----Voychek, Stupka, and Sidor. One ended up dead, and the other said he didn't kill him. You do the math."
"The other guy. Sidor," said Tif. "But can you prove it?"
"Circumstantially, which is good enough for me," I said. "He was the only other person present. Seems immediately after the murder, Sidor bailed---He left Clarion, left Pennsylvania. I tracked him down eventually---He's buried in Canada."
"Canada," said Biz. "Well, he couldn't wait to get out of town, could he? It does sound suspicious."
"Park up here," I told Michelle.
There was a parking lot in the middle of Clarion, and we pulled in. We climbed out of the van, and I pointed at the elaborate, unusually-shaped building just down the alley. "There. The haunted jail."
We walked down to it. I was holding Paul's hand. Biz and I were in the lead. I stopped to get some photos, and got out my EMF detector.
"Anything?" asked Biz.
I shook my head. "Nothing from here. But this is the place. This is where an innocent man was hung."
Biz stopped to look up at the building. "Is this still a jail?"
"I'm not sure. I don't think so. I'm gonna have to spend some more time out in Clarion, do some research for the PA Wilds."
"But now you know what happened."
I nodded.
"Now I know."

"Daddy? Can we sit in the hallway and talk about ghosts?"
Paul was standing in the doorway to my office. I glanced over from my computer, where I was working on the Voychek article. Nice thing about the PA Wilds is that I can do it from home.
"You mean an EVP session? You want to investigate like Daddy does?"
"Yeah!"
"Okay. Why not?" I saved the article and stood up. My LHPS vest was hanging on the back of the door, and I fished my digital recorder out from the pocket. We walked out into the hallway and sat down.
"Okay, little man. Here's what we're gonna do. We'll record this, and then you and me say our names, and then we ask questions and listen for ghosts. Okay?"
"Okay!"
I turned on the recorder, and said,"We're in the upstairs hallway. Daddy."
"Paul."
I gave it a moment, and then asked,"Is there anyone here?"
He giggled. "Yes! Daddy and Paul!"
"No, I mean, that was a question for the ghosts, little man."
"Oh."
Outside, I heard a plane go over. I glanced out the window and saw the bright yellow airplane in the sky. I watched for a moment, and then turned back to my son.
"Tagging---Plane outside. Let's keep looking for ghosts, little guy."

Turtles All The Way Down

"Okay, the food is grilled. Everybody dig in."
I set down the trays of smoking food, and my family piled up their plates. My wife, two daughters, and my four-year-old son all sat around the table.
"Can't wait to go camping in Indiana for the family vacation," said Biz.
"It'll be good," I agreed. "Since you brought it up, here's the itinerary for the trip out. Full of ghosts, monsters, and weird sights." This is what passes for dinnertime conversation in our family. I got out my notebook. "If we make a few stops for photos, I can submit them to the PA Wilds and get paid for this. In Clearfield County, there's the highest point on I-80. Also a diner where they have a Bigfoot statue and a whole bunch of dinosaurs. In Jefferson County, there's a park where an insane person carved a whole bunch of bible verses on rocks."
"Oh, that's fun," said Tif.
"It'll be neat. Trust me. When we get to Clarion County, there's a giant cow statue. We'll get pictures."
"That's what I like about this family," commented Biz. "It's not all about how many miles we can put on. We actually stop and do stuff."
I fist-bumped her. "And then when we get there, you and me got an investigation. The campsite is real near where the Beast of Busco was sighted. It's a giant monster turtle that was seen in a pond in Indiana, but never captured. They call it Oscar. We're gonna look into it."
"Cool," said Biz.
"We are not bringing back a giant monster turtle," said my wife.
"The car's a rental," I pointed out.
"I'm not sharing the back seat with a big turtle," said Tif.
"Actually I'll settle for photos," I said.
"I want to share with a turtle," said Biz.

My name is Lou. I'm a paranormal investigator, librarian, writer, and explorer.
My family's summer vacation is usually in August. This year, we were going to Indiana. My little boy, Paul Matthew, is adopted. He has two younger brothers who are also adopted, and live elsewhere. We'd planned a camping trip midway, meeting up with both of them.
I'd also worked up an itinerary of interesting places to see on the way---Weird historic and paranormal spots. It's kind of my thing. And as a writer for the PA Wilds, I could use this trip to submit an article. I'm not above double-dipping that way.
And, in Indiana, I'd also discovered the story of the Beast of Busco, a mysterious cryptid turtle that had been seen for about a hundred years. On the far end of the trip, it would be worth looking into.
My family doesn't really do normal vacations.

"This is really cool," said Biz as we walked through the rocks. "I wouldn't mind coming back here."
"Neither would I," said Michelle. "We'll have to plan a day trip sometime."
"Me too!" cheered Paul.
I took a photo, then looked closer to examine the letters on one of the rocks. "In the early 1900s, an insane religious guy carved all of these Bible verses on the rocks. His wife died because he wouldn't get her medical treatment, and he spent the rest of his life carving these messages."
"He had no life," Michelle said.
"A fair point," I said. I clicked another photo, and then made a couple of notes in my notebook. "I can write this up for the PA Wilds. I just made like a hundred dollars."
"Cool," said Biz.
"So I guess we're doing okay this trip. We'd also go back and take another look at Bigfoot and the dinosaurs. We have some good stops out this way."
"Now I want to see my little bruvvers!" said Paul.
I nodded. "We'll go back to the car. Soon, we'll see your brothers."

It was late when we pulled into the campsite with the cabin. It was small, with one regular bed, a bunk bed, and a couch. I began unloading the luggage.
"I call couch," said Tif, dropping into it.
Biz turned on the sink, and then made a face. "The water has a really bad smell."
"That's sulfur. It was like this where I grew up," I said. "We'll get some bottled water; can't cost more than about $3.50."
"Can I go see my bruvver, Daddy?" Paul asked. "Can I?"
"Go ahead," I said. "Go knock on the door."
"You knock."
"Come on, little guy," I said.
We walked next door, and I knocked. One of the other families was already there, Nicole and Tony, who had adopted Paul's brother, two-year-old Sully. His baby brother, Oliver, slept in a nearby blanket. Paul and Sully squealed and hugged each other.
"House," said Sully. "House."
Nicole smiled. "He wants to show Paul the cabin."
Paul looked up at me. I nodded, and the two of them raced in and immediately climbed up the bunk bed. The adults joined on the porch.
"How was your trip?" asked Nicole.
"Not bad, except for the construction," I said. "We saw some neat stuff on the way, and once we got out of Pennsylvania, it was smooth sailing. We got backed up for hours because of construction. I despise PennDOT."
She nodded. "Isaac's family said they ran into construction, too."
"We'll be putting Sully to bed soon," said Tony. "You guys got any plans for breakfast? We can all get together up at the cafe."
"That sounds great," I said. "And then we'll see what else there is to do. There's a legend of a giant monster turtle in this area---The nearby town has a statue of it. I'd love to ride out and get photos of that."
"There's a monster turtle?" asked Nicole.
I nodded. "It was sighted in 1898, and again in the forties. The farmers tried to drain the pond and catch it, but they never did. It's thought to have escaped into the nearby swamps."
"Oh, cool."
"The interesting thing about this is how plausible it is. When you're dealing with water creatures, you run up against the population problem. When creatures are sighted in a lake for hundreds of years, clearly you're not talking about the same one. It would have to be a whole family, which raises the question of how many can fit in the lake, and why they aren't sighted more often under the circumstances. But turtles can be effectively immortal---They die from disease or accidents, but not really old age to speak of. Left alone, they can live for hundreds of years. So it's not too big a stretch to imagine a giant turtle living alone since 1898."
"And you're going to find it?" asked Nicole.
"I'll settle for a photo of the statue."
"Sounds great," said Tony. "We'll plan on that."

Paul, Sully, and Isaac---The three brothers---ran around with their little bubble-blowing guns, spreading bubbles all over the lawn. We'd shown up before the cafe opened, so we'd given them some toys to play with while they waited. I stood with the other adults, watching them all play.
Nicole nodded at my shirt. "Is that Bigfoot getting abducted by aliens?"
I grinned. "Yeah. I got a couple like this."
"I saw one online that said Bigfoot: Hide And Seek World Champion."
"I have that one, actually."
My wife came up beside me.
"We're going swimming after breakfast," she said. "The pool's right over there. You want to come?"
I considered it. "I'll meet up with you guys later. I'm not much of a swimmer. I think I'll take a walk, explore the camp a little."
"Okay," she said. "We'll be in the water."
I nodded as three little boys ran past me, shrieking and blasting bubbles at each other.

With everyone else at the pool, I walked to the cabin. I knelt down and pulled the black bag from underneath the bed.
It was filled with my travel adventure equipment. I selected the black shoulder bag---Cryptozoology. Yeah, I have my paranormal equipment sorted and packed in different bags for different situations. Are you that organized at your job?
I walked down the path, curving around to the beach. I could see Ridinger Lake; I walked down and took a look. There were signs of geese, and the water looked mossy and dirty---I was glad my family was up and swimming in the nice clean pool. I took a water sample in one of the small plastic cans I carry for that purpose.
I'd filched an extra map from the camp office when we'd checked in. Following the map, I walked up and around to the nearby fishing dam. The lake flowed down this way, over the dam, and off to the northwest. I found a small path going upstream past the fence, and followed it down to the creek.
There were ducks and frogs in the water. I dipped out a sample there, too, and then realized my sample jars looked exactly the same. I took a pen and labelled one "L" for lake, and the other "C" for creek, and put them into a side pocket on my bag.
I knelt by the edge. There were snails in the water---Huge snails, some three inches in diameter, clustered up along the edge. There had to be thirty or forty of them. I found an empty shell and dropped it into my bag, then took a photo of them. I'd never seen snails that size before.
So, I wasn't finding a monster turtle, but the snails were gigantic.

"It's Daddy! Hi, Daddy!" Paul called out as I approached the pool.
"Hey, little man! Having fun?"
"Yeah!" He was splashing around in the water with Biz.
"No giant turtle?" Michelle asked as I sat down in a chair beside her.
I shook my head. "No Oscar yet. But I did find some huge damn snails down by the dam. Oscar-got." I made it sound like escargot. "Killer snails. I've never seen any that big before." I showed her the shell.
Tif swam to the edge of the pool. "Hey, cool. Can you get me one of those?"
"Me, too!" added Paul.
"Sure," I said. "I was planning on going back down there anyway. If there's anywhere there's gonna be a giant turtle, that's it. Hey, little man, you want to help me with the color-changing paper later?"
"Yeah! I like color-changing paper!"
Tif gave me a look. "Color-changing paper?"
"Litmus paper. When checking for water monsters, you always test the water to see the acidity. I did it up at Kettle Creek last month."
"You gonna test the sulfur water, too?" asked Biz.
"I'm kind of afraid to."

Nicole grinned at me. "Cool shirt." It was the one that said I'd rather be ghost-hunting.
"Oh, thanks. I have a whole bunch of these at home."
We had a campfire going, and the kids were playing. Some of the parents were roasting marshmallows on it. Paul, Sully, and Isaac were eating S'mores, but not in their entirety---Paul was eating unheated marshmallows, Sully was eating chocolate, and Isaac kept grabbing graham crackers.
"Can we do the color-changing paper now, Daddy?" asked Paul.
"Sure, little man."  I set my bag down on the table, and got out the samples and the litmus paper. I opened the sample cans, which had blessedly not leaked, and set them on the table. "Go ahead, dip the paper in."
Paul dipped the paper into the water. Isaac sat next to him and watched this intently. In each case, it went from yellow to a deeper green.
"It's green!" Paul announced happily.
"What's that mean?" asked Biz.
"It's alkaline, but not enough to not support life," I said. "Things can live in it, but it's on the upper end of that."
"So you do this for a living?" Travis, Isaac's dad, was standing next to me and watching.
"I have no idea how to describe what I do for a living. I've been called the county historian. Mostly, I'm a librarian, but I do writing, I study local history, and I look for ghosts and monsters and buried treasures. There was never a word for this when I was in high school. I'm pretty sure I invented my own career."
"It helps to do something you love," he said.
"So how do you go about this?" asked Tony, Sully's father.
"Depends on the type of investigation, but I'm always looking for provable, measurable evidence," I said. "Ghosts, monsters---The bottom line is to prove it. I do tests, I measure what I can."
He nodded. "That's a good way to go about it. I looked up your Giwoggle online. I found a lot of your articles."
I grinned. "Yeah, most of what's online about the Giwoggle, I put there. It's Clinton County's official monster; I campaigned for that back in 2011. You can get Giwoggle T-shirts."
"And the turtle you're looking for....Beast of Busco?"
"That's the one. It was sighted not too far from here. They have a statue of it; I'd love to go and see it."
"Sounds great," said Travis. "Let's take a drive out tomorrow."

I walked back down to the creek in the dark and knelt by the water. I was smoking one of my cigars; I'd brought a few along. I smoked fewer of them since we'd adopted Paul. It wasn't a conscious decision, I just didn't have the time.
With my small flashlight, I looked at the water. The day before, there had been a huge group of monster snails clustered around. Now, there were still some live ones, but something had been at them. There were empty shells dropped along the creek; something had been there eating them.
I picked a couple up and examined them. I chose one for Tif and one for Paul, and dropped them into my bag. I looked at the water again. Bobbing in it was about half of a skeleton. Leaning closer, which I really didn't want to do, I was able to identify it as most of a frog.
I could hear things moving around out there, in the water. I tried taking a couple of photos, but it was too dark. One of those professional risks in paranormal investigation. So I waited a while, but nothing too exciting happened.
After a while I finished my cigar, and walked back to camp.

We had a fire going for our final night of camp. Some of the adults sat around it while the boys mostly ate the individual pieces of S'mores without assembling or heating them. I said,"This has been a good trip. And it's been great to spend time with all of you."
Tony grinned. "I ordered Nicole a Giwoggle T-shirt."
"Allright! Clinton County's official monster."
"Dad, can you cook me a hot dog?" asked Tif, sitting on the cabin steps with her book.
"Sure," I said. I walked to the picnic table and began spiking one on the long metal stake.
Biz sat down next to me. She was holding baby Oliver.
"So, how'd the quest for the turtle go?"
"Well, not bad. I didn't see the Beast of Busco, but I did find the statue. I found the killer snails. So now I know---A- The creek can support life, including oversize life. B- Something ate the snails, which means they have a predator there someplace. So, C- It's possible there's Oscar, the giant turtle living in the swamps here."
"Well, that works out better than some of your investigations."
"True enough. I'm happy with it. It's been a good weekend."
"Sorry you didn't solve the turtle mystery, though."
"You know what, Biz? Mystery is where you find it." I smiled, looking at the boys all eating at the picnic table together.

"Guys....It's been great."
Final morning. I stood in the yard between the cabins with the other families. We'd been up at about eight AM, packing and cleaning. I'd gotten everything into the car. Paul had been the last one up---He and Sully had worn themselves out.
"We'll have to keep the boys in touch," said Nicole. "We'll skype with Paul."
"That would be great," I said. "Paul? Come say goodbye to Sully."
Paul gave Sully a hug. "I miss you," he said.
"We'll be talking with him on the computer," I said. "Would you like that?"
"Yeah! Can we go to Old MacDonald's?"
I laughed. "We'll get breakfast on the way home."
We hugged each other and said goodbye, and got into our cars. Michelle strapped Paul into the car seat, and pulled out into the path.
"Home by tonight, guys," I said. "I have a couple of stops in Ohio planned. There's a graveyard in the parking lot of a movie theater, and a fifty foot statue of the Virgin Mary."

Seal of Approval

"What do zombies look like?" my son asked.
I was sitting on the bed getting dressed, so obviously, it was the appropriate time for questions like that. "Well, they're kind of like people. Except scary. And they kind of make a sound like Uuuurrrrr."
"I don't think they make a noise."
I pulled my Piper Cub shirt on. "Where did you learn about zombies?" I was pretty sure nobody had shown my four-year-old The Walking Dead.
"On a Shimmer and Shine cartoon. They eat people, but only people who fell down."
"Yeah, that's about right." I pulled on my sneakers. "You remember you were born in New Orleans? It's a city far away. There are zombies there."
"Are they friendly zombies?"
"Yeah. They're all drinking margaritas."
"In the cartoon, zombies do like this." Paul held his hands together and made a kind of dancing, wiggling motion.
I laughed. "Do they do that? Okay. I kind of like that."
"Why do zombies have red drips on their mouth?"
"Oh....That's their lipstick." I tied my yellow Piper bandanna around my ankle. "Zombies don't know how to put on lipstick right, so they get drips."
Paul rolled his eyes. "They don't know they are supposed to rub their lips together. Silly zombies."

"You seem a little down," said the woman. "When was the last time you had an astrological chart done?"
I glanced at her. "What have I ever written that would make you think I believe in astrology?"
"I didn't ask if you believed in it, I asked when you last had it done."
"Oh. That'd be never, then."
She leaned over the desk at the library and began sketching on a piece of paper, while nearby, my co-worker Barb looked on with some amusement. "Well, you were born in July, right? That would make you a Leo. What time were you born?"
"I don't know. I actually have different stories on my birth from each of my relatives. I've never been sure what's true, so years ago I just chose the one I like best, and went with that."
She frowned at me. "Well, which of your relatives do you trust the most?"
"You don't know my relatives."
"This is important."
"It may have been about three in the afternoon. And I'm pretty sure I was born in an elevator in Phoenixville."
She scribbled some more on the paper. "There, see, your sun and moon are in opposition. That could explain some of the conflict you're feeling. You should have a chart done about weekly."
"Ah. Well, thank you."
"You're welcome," she said, and walked out.
Barb glanced at me. "How do you....."
"Keep a straight face? It's not always easy."
The door opened, and someone in a uniform walked in. It was my friend Ian, a ranger with Kettle Creek State Park.
"Hi, Lou," he said. "I was just dropping by to see if you're available to do a talk for us up at Kettle Creek again this summer. The audiences like you."
"Sure," I said. "Got a topic in mind?"
"I was thinking about the Native Americans," he said. "There's a lot of that sort of history. Can you do that?"
"Oh, sure. Done that kind of thing before. When's good?"
"July seventh?"
"Works for me." I scribbled it down. "Ian, last year, when my son fell asleep in the back of the car on the way home, my wife and I were discussing getting a campsite and staying over next time around. Would that be possible? Could you guys arrange for a campsite overnight?"
"Oh, sure," said Ian. "Give a call in and book it with our scheduling person. That can be done."
"Great! Thanks."
Ian left, and Barb said,"That sounds like fun."
"More than you even know," I said. "There are legends of a water monster in the Kettle Creek area, the Susquehanna Seal. It was said to be very active overnight, and often seen by the Indians. If I investigate it, it fits right in."
Zach, walking past the desk, stopped to listen.
"Have you ever in your life," Barb asked,"Done something like this without some sort of paranormal side mission?"
"It's been a while," I admitted. "You know, if I get some photos while I'm up there, I can even get paid for this by writing it up for the PA Wilds."
"You're not bringing any monsters in here," commented Zach.
"Don't destroy my dreams, Zach," I said.
Paranormal phenomena to be investigated. Ancient mysteries to be solved. And just like that, another workday begins.

"I'm four years old!" my son proudly declared at the table. "It's my birthday today!"
"It is, little man," I said, and gave him a hug. "We love you."
"Can I open presents?"
"You'll have to wait until Aunt Biz gets here, and we have the cake," I said. "Be patient."
"I don't like to be patient."
"I am painfully aware. But you'll have to learn."
Paul reached for a box on the table. "Can I just open this one?"
"That one's from Aunt Paula," I said. "My old teacher. Yeah, you can open that."
I watched with my wife and daughter as Paul ripped open the box. He pulled out a pretty good package of stuff, a backpack loaded with items.
"New binoculars!" Paul held them up to his eyes and looked at his big sister through the wrong ends.
"That's backwards, little guy."
"I don't like close up. I like far away."
"Fair enough."
"What else is there?" Tif asked, looking at the pack. Paul pulled out more stuff: A mountain climbing set, comlinks, a wrist compass, a cap with a light on the brim. Not toy stuff; the real thing.
"Aunt Paula sends quality stuff," I commented. "You got better equipment than I do now. Here, you see these?"
I handed him one of the comlinks. It took me a minute to get the channels coordinated, but then I said,"See? You press this button to talk. Look." I pressed the button and said,"Hi, Paul."
He lit up as my voice came out of his comlink. He said,"I want to!" Pressing the button after a couple of tries, he said,"Hello, hello, hello."
"Now you can come have adventures with me. Find monsters and stuff."
"I want to find monsters," he said. "Can I stay at Kettle Creek by my own?"
"Not a good idea."
"Daddy, trust me," said my four-year-old. "I'm an expert."

We got to Kettle Creek State Park around three PM, five hours before my speech was scheduled. Paul had been ready to jet out the door since eight AM. It's about an hour from Lock Haven to Kettle Creek, and every five minutes, Paul was asking if we'd arrived yet.
We found our campsite and parked the car. I unloaded everything and put the tent up. Michelle and I had purchased the tent for about $3.50 seventeen years ago, before we were married. The package had said it was a Fast 'N' Simple E-Z Tent, and I'd been shocked to find out that it was actually fast, simple, and easy. So easy I could get the thing up in minutes, even with the help of a four-year-old. Best tent I've ever owned.
We were up at the overlook, exploring the rest of the park, when Ian got there, pulling over in his state-issued DCNR vehicle.
"Hi, Lou," said Ian.
I grinned. "Hey, Ian. Thanks for the site---We're having a great time. Little guy's thrilled."
"Good, good. You bring some artifacts to share tonight?"
"I did. Studied up on the Native Americans, got some good stories."
He nodded. "I saw a heron down past the dam, looking for fish. You might get a look at him."
"That'd be cool." I turned to Paul. "You hear that, little guy? There's a tall bird, and we might get to see it."
"Yeah! I want to see the tall bird!"
"We'll keep our eyes open, Ian," I said. "See you at the Nature Center in a couple of hours."

"Good speech, Daddy," said Paul as the Nature Center let out. I'd talked about the Susquehannocks, some of their battles and legends, and passed around a couple of Native American tools from a dig. It had been a bigger crowd than last year.
"Thanks, little guy."
"It was a good speech," said Michelle. "One of your better ones."
"I'm pleased. It went well."
Two guys came up, and shook my hand. One said,"I love that shirt! Where did you get it?"
It was the blue one with Bigfoot being abducted by aliens. "Oh. Amazon."
"Mind if I take a picture of it?"
"No, go ahead."
He snapped a photo with his cell phone. "Great talk, man. Loved it. You into Bigfoot?"
"Yeah, I do some looking sometimes."
He grinned. "Me too. Got some good photos out in Grove City last year."
"Daddy! Come on!" said Paul.
I smiled. "Gotta run. Bedtime."
We fed Paul some marshmallows, got him to agree to lay down in the sleeping bag about nine-thirty, and I clicked off the lantern. I gave the little guy a hug.
"See you in the morning, buddy."
"We did not see the tall bird."
"We'll go look for him tomorrow. Promise."
"This is a fun camping trip. I love you, Daddy."
"Love you, too, little man."
Taking the lantern, I crawled out of the tent and zipped it up. I walked over to the picnic table and sat down with a copy of Annihilation I'd grabbed from the library. On camping trips, it was important to bring the right book to read after dark. Stephen King is a bad choice. I'd learned this the hard way.
I lit a cigar and read for a while, until I was pretty sure Michelle and Paul were asleep. Then I dug into my pack, and got out some of my cryptozoology equipment.
I had a knife that was designed for it, which I strapped on my belt. I got a small sample jar and a monocular. My camera was in my pocket. I pulled on a dark green hoodie---It was cooling down.
I walked down the path in the dark. Some of the other families were settling down, going to sleep, and it was getting quieter. I got to the creek and took a water sample from the edge.
Back at the campsite, I sat down at the picnic table and did a litmus test on the sample. Yeah, I carry litmus paper in my pack---Don't give me that look. The water tested just slightly acidic, though it still would easily support life----Which, obviously, as we'd been seeing frogs, snakes, and fish all day, and had heard tell of a tall bird.
I picked up my stuff, and went looking for the Susquehanna Seal.
I walked down to the bridge. I stood for a while, looking out over the water. It's unbelievable how much paranormal investigation winds up being just standing around, waiting for something to happen. I took a few photos. I had my flashlight in my pocket---I hadn't needed it to walk the path down to the bridge----And the forest was dark and quiet.
The Susquehanna Seal had been said to make noise, howling at night, but all I could hear was the bullfrogs. There were a couple of fallen logs in the water. I looked at my watch; it was past ten-thirty. I'd been out later than I'd realized.
It was dark. I tried to think back, imagine it the way it must have been in the very early days. No camp, no highway nearby, just some settler cabins and Native American tribes. It would have seemed much more remote then, almost an impossible place to reach. The dark was pervasive. Sometimes, mysteries remain mysteries, and I'm good with that.
I could see how some floating logs or decent-sized snakes, maybe, could have turned into the legend of a monster. This forest was great. There was adventure here.

When I opened my eyes in the morning, Paul was next to me in his sleeping bag, smiling at me. "I think it's morning time, Daddy," he said.
"Yeah. It's morning. Let's let Mommy sleep for now, okay?"
"This was a fun camping trip."
"Well, we're not quite done with it yet," I said. "You want to go look for the tall bird?"
"Okay."
We pulled our sneakers on, crawled out of the tent, and walked down to the creek. We sat down on the little overlook platform and watched for a while.
Paul pointed excitedly over the water. "Daddy! There is the tall bird!"
I looked---He'd spotted it. The heron was soaring upward, over the water, heading upstream.
"You got it, little man! That's the tall bird!"
"I love it, Daddy!" Paul smiled. "Can we go camping again soon?"
"Sure we can."
It shot up, over the mountain, and then it was gone.

Airplane Mode

"Okay, look at  the cards. Three cards, right? An ace, a jack, and a two. And not one of them mentions Piper."
President John studied the cards in my hand, and nodded. "Right."
I turned them over, and held them out. "Please choose the middle card."
He slid the middle card out, and turned it over. It had the Piper Aviation logo on it, and was an ad for the airplanes. I grinned.
"A card trick," I said. "It came in with the big collection we're accessioning upstairs. I've seen a bunch of Piper promo items, but never this one before."
President John laughed. "You know, when the Grasshoppers were shipped overseas during World War Two, each one had a pack of cards in it. These days, those are pretty valuable."
"Well, if anyone walks into the Fly-In this week and offers to donate one, John, I'll grab it up."

The annual Piper Fly-In is always busy. It's held by a separate organization at the airport, but the museum is open for it, and we do a lot of business. The museum is packed with visitors, the archives get donations, and there's a C-54 in the parking lot. It gets insanely busy. Not so busy I couldn't pause to show John the cool card trick I found in a donation shipment, though.
"Gotta run out to Wal-Mart, Stacy," I said, walking across the museum floor. "We're almost out of acid-free pens. Be right back."
"We'll be here," said Stacy.
Kara and I went downstairs in the elevator to her vehicle, and pulled out of the parking lot. There was a huge silver plane there, a C-54, and we passed it on our way out.
"Any chance we can stop at the Mill Hall Fire Department on the way?" I asked.
"Sure. How come?"
"There's been a UFO sighting around there."
"Okay. How do you find these things out?"
"You know how you can subscribe to websites that send you weather warnings? It's like that."
"What kind of UFO?"
"It was described as an orange light, moving in the sky and turning at ninety-degree angles."
"Hmm. Drone?"
"Could be. I found a drone last year around this time."
Kara drove to the fire department, and stopped in the parking lot. I stepped out, and looked around at the sky and the landscape. Then I climbed back into the car.
"You see what you needed?" Kara asked.
"So far. More or less."
"So. Acid-free pens?"
"Acid-free pens."

I smiled as I watched the small red plane taxi across the runway and take off. "There goes our Tri-Pacer," I said.
Kara, standing next to me by the fence, watched it go. "You know, I've never seen that thing actually fly before."
"It's neat,  isn't it?" We watched as two Cubs, a Comanche, and a Colt also lifted off, rising into the sky toward the eastern mountains. "It's fun to watch. There's just something about it."
"You okay?" Kara asked. "You seem a little down."
"Busy week," I said. "I don't know, maybe I'm falling out of love with this place. I got a problem employee, everybody and their goddamn grandmother seems to want to tell me how to do my job, and we just put that asshole Glenn on the board."
"You're not thinking about leaving, are you? You love this place. I've seen your eyes light up when you walk through it."
"Maybe it's time," I said. "I been here almost three years. There are other things that will make my eyes light up. Maybe I need to see what else is out there."
I turned and started walking toward the building across the parking lot, Kara following. I glanced at the sticker on a pickup truck's back window. I laughed. "Bigfoot. Cool."
We walked through the lobby and into the hangar. As I walked toward the Primary Trainer, I saw the Bigfoot symbol on the T-shirt of the guy passing me the other way. I asked,"Is that your truck out there, with the Bigfoot sticker on it?"
He grinned. "Yeah. My daughter saw Bigfoot along the Renovo Road."
"That'd be the place, allright."
"I do some Bigfoot hunting."
Kara was behind me, grinning. I said."We're paranormal investigators. Mostly ghost hunting."
"Yeah, I've read your columns."
"I got my UFO on shirt today. I do have some Bigfoot shirts, though. I'm always at the local library, if you ever want to network."
He grinned. "Okay. Keep finding UFOs!"
As we walked toward the stairs, Kara asked,"How is the UFO investigation coming, anyway?"
"Ah, getting there. Last year, I figured out one was a drone. Sat in the Cheyenne trying to call the local drone guy, when he was right in the conference room here."
"I remember that. So what else do you have to do?"
"Ask about drones, call around a bit and check on flight patterns, check for other witnesses. The original report was anonymous, so that does me no good. What I need is to find a few other people who might have been around at that same time."
"You'll figure it out," said Kara.
"Or I won't," I said. "And that's fine. I like a little mystery, too."

I walked out onto Main Street after talking about Piper planes and UFOs on the radio. I may be the only person who is able to use those words in that order. I walked down the street to the print shop, where I was greeted by the owner.
"I realize I only stop in here to ask weird questions," I said. "My co-worker Joe told me that you guys had a shipment of reprinted books about the local railroad that you got stuck with."
He grinned. "We do. I was going to call you about that. Would you like one?"
"That's why I'm here. How much do you want for it?"
"I was going to give you one for free. Come on back." We walked into the back room. When you're me, people wind up inviting you into all sorts of private, employees-only spaces. "I mainly want to get rid of them, and I thought you'd be interested."
"You thought right. I have a big collection at home."
He handed me one of the books. "Here you go. Enjoy it."
"Thank you." I flipped through. "Hey, this has some ghost towns in it that I didn't know about. I'll give it a good home."

When I got back to the library, our maintenance guy was out in the shed. I stopped my bike for a minute.
"Morning, Bill. Question---Since we moved my desk, is it okay if we change out that picture with the shells hanging over in the PA Room? I mean, I'm the one that's gotta stare at it."
"I don't see why not," said Bill. "Did you have something more historic in mind?"
"We have a picture of Ole Bull's castle in the attic that I like," I said. "It was donated by Henry Shoemaker, my big hero. I can measure it to see if it'll fit."
"Okay," said Bill. "That's a plan."

My new desk was right across from the Henry Shoemaker books, which was fitting. I was next to the side door, which would make a handy escape if I was bored, which I actually was, a little.
I looked at the listing for the Mill Hall UFO sighting. It read the same as it had: Orange light in the sky, making funny turns. I searched the site for similar sightings, to see if there was anything to compare it to. I ran a search for the words orange, light, and turns.
Several entries came up, all throughout the county. Mill Hall, Beech Creek, Castanea, Lock Haven. I read through them, getting a sinking feeling.
Every single one of them was the same. Not just the description, but exactly the same wording. They were all submitted anonymously, claiming to be several locations in the middle part of the county, and could have been cut and pasted. Each one read exactly the same.
Damn it. Doesn't anyone ever edit these websites?
A hoax.
The exact same entry for several locations meant the whole thing was most likely a hoax, someone making up a story for attention. I sat back in my chair and sighed.
With nothing better to do, I checked my e-mail. There was a note from my editor with the PA Wilds, suggesting a possible column. I read it through. At the end, she asked me if I'd be interested in a paid contract with the PA Wilds Center.
My eyes lit up. I mean, I didn't see that. But I felt it.
I sent back an e-mail accepting.
Then I got to work on an article about a man who had saved wolves from extinction.

"When I checked," I said,"There were identical UFO sightings all over the neighborhood, clearly just cut and pasted. They didn't even change the phrasing. So, almost certainly a hoax. And right down the road from the first sighting?"
Kara nodded. "The fake haunted attraction owned by the Inspector."
I looked around the picnic table at the LHPS team, meeting on the library's patio. "You got it. I've dealt with her before; she makes up crap stories to get publicity. This is probably another one."
"Most like we'll see a UFO theme this year," said Theresa.
"There were also a couple of meth-heads high on drugs the other night," I said,"Who began shooting at fireflies thinking they were alien lasers. That could have caused some sightings, too."
Lacy shook her head. "Jesus."
"In other news," I said,"I'll be able to get us some more publicity soon. I've been offered a contract with the PA Wilds. So I'll be doing some more writing for them."
"And Piper?" asked Kara.
"You know," I said,"I can't leave Piper, or at least not yet. I'm gonna stick around for a while more, see how it goes. But I can take a step back, stop obsessing over it all the time. Take some time for myself."
"I think that's a good idea," she said.
I nodded.
"Yeah. Me too." I looked at my notes. "Now, how about that haunted house down in Centre County?...."

Daydream On Elm Street

"You can tell it's graduation in a college town," said Zach. "I passed three different parties on my way back from lunch. They're all busy getting drunk at...." He looked at his phone. "Three-thirty in the afternoon."
"Hope they don't trash the places too badly," I said. "A lot of the college kids live in historic homes that have been sectioned off for rental. I've done investigations in some of them."
"I could have gotten free drinks on my break if I'd wanted," said Zach.
"Yeah, I could go for that," I said. "I've been looking into one of the old houses up on Fairview Street. Belonged to one of the old bootleggers, and I'm working on a column about it. I'd love to get some more information about it, maybe some photos."
"You could always just ask," Zach suggested. "Most of the college kids are pretty open."
"I suppose," I said. "Most of the college kids don't have any understanding of the history of their places, though. What I'd need to do is get inside somehow, and sneak around."
After work, I stood on the sidewalk on Fairview Street, looking at the house. The kids inside were having a party, and the music was blasting. I put my hands in my pockets for a minute, looking things over.
Five minutes later, I was inside.
"PARTY!" I shouted, holding up a beer. "Hey, what year was this place built, anyway?"

I was standing at the grocery store, buying milk and chocolate sauce. Now that Paul had learned to love chocolate milk, we always needed milk and chocolate sauce.
"Hey, Lou," said Juli, one of the local cashiers. They all knew me. "I just moved into a new place, and I was wondering about it. One of the neighbors told me someone drowned a baby in the tub?"
I frowned. "I doubt it, Juli. I'll look into it, but I think I'd know."
"Well, good. I'm just as happy if nobody murdered a baby."
One of the other cashiers, a newer girl, looked at me. "How would you know?"
I laughed. "It's what I do. I'm a paranormal investigator and a history writer. That's the kind of thing that would have stuck in my memory."
"Oh, really? Cool."
"If your place is haunted, Lou is the one you want to talk to," said Juli.
"I'll check into it for you," I said. "See what I can find out."

It was a rainy morning. I was going to do some writing, make some groundbreaking discoveries, and change history as we know it.
But first, coffee.
"Tell me there's coffee," I said to Barb at the desk.
"Not yet," she said. "I've been busy."
"I'll make some."
I started the coffee, and then took a cup to my desk in my Bigfoot mug. Sitting down, I began to write a column about the Tiadaghton Elm. I went and got one of our history books for reference, paging through, and I noticed a notation that information had come from an article in the Clinton Democrat on July 12, 1918.
It was a slow morning, so my coffee and I went to look at the article. I inserted it into the machine and fast-forwarded it with one hand while I drank coffee with the other. I found the article in about two minutes, because if I wasn't good at this, I'd have to find a real job.
It was on page four. I printed off a copy, and read through it. And then I saw something that made me almost spill the coffee on my Roswell: Green Since 1947 T-shirt.
"Holy...."

"The Tiadaghton Elm," I said. "Everyone knows this story. On July 4, 1776, a group of local men called the Fair Play Men gathered under the Tiadaghton Elm in Pine Creek, to sign a Declaration of Independence. They didn't know that the Founding Fathers were signing one in Philadelphia on the same day. They sent their document out to be delivered, but were told that one had already been sent. So they came back here, and buried their Declaration somewhere on or near the grounds of the fort where they lived."
Kara sat across from me in my office at the Piper Museum. I said,"I've looked into finding the document---It may actually be in a grave. But look at this---In July of 1918, there was a big ceremony under the tree to commemorate the signing. In this article, down here, they mention that a committee figured out that the document was signed under the Tiadaghton Elm----Before 1918, they say, nobody knew the location and it was all word of mouth."
Kara studied the article. "Okay, that's interesting. I never realized that."
"It's about to get a bit more interesting. Turns out, the committee included local man John Chatham, who I know to be a notorious bullshitter. He's the guy who caused the Widow Smith debacle a few months back---Chatham had no problem making up a story, or embellishing it."
Kara was looking at the article. "So you think he did that here?"
"I'm starting to think it's likely. I checked for mentions of the Tiadaghton Elm before 1918. There's nothing. Linn doesn't mention it, Meginness doesn't mention it. No newspapers. Nobody ever brings up the Elm previous to a hundred years ago."
"Where do the others say it happened?"
"They're vague---All they mention is the plains of Pine Creek. Which could be practically anywhere in that neighborhood. But wait...." I flipped through my photocopies and brought one out. "I did find a 1914 article that mentions all the old stories handed down orally, and talks about it happening in a schoolhouse."
"That would make sense," admitted Kara. "Given that they were actually committing treason, they wouldn't have wanted to do it out in the open."
"True. And I checked the 1862 map. I did find a schoolhouse, no longer there, about half a mile west of the elm site. That's most likely the place where the signing took place---The elm had nothing to do with it. I'm meeting with some of my contacts from the Jersey Shore Historical Society on Thursday, and they're gonna see what information they have."
Kara looked at me. Her eyes lit up. "Do you realize what this means?"
I nodded. "It's like twelve years ago, when I discovered the location of Fort Reed wasn't where everyone thought it was. This is groundbreaking. We're changing history here."

Slow day. I was on desk. I did what I always do on desk; I looked into an old mystery. I wonder what it's like to work at the grocery store.
I dug into Juli's house a bit. It appeared on the Sanborn maps as far back as 1901, so I went back and checked on the 1862 map. A smaller variety of the house was there; it had clearly had some work done. I grabbed the city directories.
City directories are awesome; they're like a reverse phone book showing who lived in what house. I checked Juli's. The earliest family I could find were the Van Dykes and Kaufmans, an extended family who'd shared the property. A quick check of the obit indexes showed me that the families were big in the hardware industry in Lock Haven.
I ran through the directories, and found nothing to suggest that the baby story had actually happened. Sometimes rumors just get started; I don't know how. It would make Juli happy.
This may be setting the bar really low. But it's always a good day when you don't discover a dead baby.

"So where was the school?" Tina asked. Tina is one of my contacts with the Jersey Shore Historical Society, and we'd held some good events together in the past. She'd dropped by the library to see what I had, and I'd shown her my articles and photocopies.
"Right....Here." I pointed to the 1862 map, which had the small black mark labelled School. "It's at this intersection. The school no longer stands, but you can still find the spot."
"Is the intersection still there?"
"Oh, yeah, it's the corner of, what, Tiadaghton Avenue and Old River Road. it's about a half mile from the old elm site."
Tina shook her head. "Remarkable. And there's no mention of the elm before 1918?"
"Nothing. I checked everything I could find."
"What does Meginness say?"
I pulled out a copy. "This one's Meginness. He says it was on the plains of Pine Creek, which could have been anywhere in the neighborhood."
"You know, I always wondered why the blue marker for the elm was way out on 220."
"I'd bet that PHMC was a little dubious on the evidence, too. I've seen this before. About twelve years ago, I found out that Fort Reed wasn't where people thought it was, either. I was able to place it a few blocks to the east of where everyone assumed. I got hate mail over that. You'll notice the blue marker for Fort Reed is way the hell on the other end of town, too, for the same reason."
"You're gonna get hate mail over this, too," said Tina. "What's your next step?"
"I'd love to make this into some sort of program for the society," I said. "A speech or something. And I'll be writing it up for the papers. I'll keep you updated."

"Tell me where," said Kara.
"Up ahead is the elm site," I said. "See, where the bridge---"
"I know where the elm site is. You took me there once. Where's the school?"
"Well, where was the school," I said. "There's not even the foundation anymore. This is all farmland, it's been plowed over like a million times. Turn around."
"You spoke to the Jersey Shore Historical Society?"
I nodded. "The Jersey Shore Historical Society has the most to lose here. They hold events, they promote this thing. They're the most heavily invested in the Tiadaghton Elm, and they're okay with it."
Kara slowed down and spun her car around, heading back the way we'd come. We drove back toward the intersection, and I said,"Here's the place."
"On that side?"
"Yep. On this side."
Kara slowed down, and we looked over the field. There was nothing to see there anymore, but based on the map, I knew where the spot was.
"I figure it's within twelve feet or so," I said. "This is where the school house was. This is where they made history."

"Hi, Lou," said Laukeshia, coming in the door to the library. "I'm here for a meeting tonight?"
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Third floor. Go on up."
"By the way," she said,"I forgot to e-mail you. Your article on the Giwoggle was great---We got more hits on that than any other piece on our website. Nice job."
I smiled. "Thanks, Laukeshia. I have a few other things in mind."
"Looking forward to it."
She walked upstairs. I turned and walked back to my office.
I sat down at my desk, and began typing.
Let the hate mail commence.

Truly Madly Creepily

"Daddy? You can sing me a song?"
Bedtime is an ordeal in a lot of households. In mine, it's not any easier---It's like my kid isn't used to sleeping in a haunted house or something.
Three-year-old Paul Matthew, my son, was lying in his bed. I was sitting on the bed beside him, in the dark. Our house is haunted by a 1905 teenaged suicide, but I'm used to that. I'm a ghost-hunter.
"Sure, I can sing to you, little man. But first, tell me what we learned today."
"Never play wif Daddy's fire starters."
"That's right. Now, how about one that I used to sing you when you were a little baby?"
"Okay," agreed Paul.
I took a breath and started to sing.

"Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Daddy's gonna find you a thunderbird.

And if that thunderbird won't sing,

Daddy's gonna find you Shoemaker's magic ring."

I'm a paranormal investigator, writer, historian, librarian, and curator. When we'd adopted my boy, I'd begun singing him this one, filled with local history and paranormal details. Specifically written for my son.

"And if that magic ring turns brass,

Daddy's gonna find you Jefferis's looking glass.

And if that looking glass gets broke, 

Daddy's gonna find you Nell Burrows's goat.

And if that Burrows goat should dally,

Daddy's gonna find you a dog named Sallie."

All things I've researched and written about in my city. Details upon request.

"And if that Sallie dog won't bark,

Daddy's gonna find you a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart falls down,

You're still the most famous baby in town.

Hush, little baby, don't you cry,

Daddy's gonna write you a lullaby."

I looked down at my son. His eyes were closed; he was asleep.

I stood in the store, looking over a black vest with a lot of pockets on it. Perfect for ghost hunting. If you can't get adventure wear indestructible, you'd better learn to get it cheap.
"Hi, Lou. I liked your column."
I looked up. It was someone I knew. "Oh, hi, Kim, God, which one? I write so many."
"I read them all. I liked the one about the two guys who captured a bear in 1909, The Bear Facts."
"Oh, yeah, I got one coming up where I bitch for eight hundred words about the Underground Railroad."
Kim laughed. "What inspired that?"
"Someone finally asked me the wrong question one too many times."
"Been asked much about Burger King, since they're rebuilding up there? I've been told it's haunted."
"No kidding?"
"That's what the employees have said. I'm a little surprised nobody's asked you about it."
"Maybe someone has now. I been kind of at loose ends lately; it's been a little slow. I'm kind of intrigued. I'll look into it."

"Okay, I'm here to take the desk."
Barb handed me the key. "Bill turned the heat off. You want me to leave the space heater?"
"I think you'd better," I said. "It's pretty chilly back at my desk, too."
"It's like a tomb in here," said Barb.
"I've explored some tombs way warmer than this."
"Nice shirt," she said. "Study History: Realize people have been this stupid for thousands of years."
"It's new."
Mel was walking by with a cup of coffee. "What the hell book were you discussing in your book club this morning? I could hear you guys shouting at each other through the floor."
"Oh, that. We got into an argument about the location of the old Mann Axe Factory. I said it was near Mill Hall, along present-day Route 64, and some of the members disagreed. So I went to get the 1862 map, and then they said it probably wasn't the right name of the axe factory. So I went and got one of our Mann axes out of the collection in the attic and showed it to them, and we passed it around the table."
"You brought an axe into your book club?" Barb asked.
"Things escalated quickly."
I went back to my desk and sat down. The local newspaper was on the rack by my desk, and I picked it up and skimmed through it, mostly just looking for my name. I drank some coffee out of my Bigfoot coffee mug. and looked at the police news on page two.

"We need to get those J-4 plans sorted and organized," I told Kara.We were in the conference room at the Piper Museum. I had old airplane plans spread out on the table, and Kara was looking through them. I looked at a stack of papers on the table. "Look at this. That asshole Greg left the place a mess again."
"Who?"
"He's a volunteer who comes in sometimes. Some kind of professor. He's never actually had any practical field experience, but thinks he knows better than anyone else. Drives me nuts. We're having a vote about putting him on the board."
"Sorry to hear that," she said.
"Ah, well. I been looking for an arch enemy lately. Every super-hero has one; I've considered putting an ad in the personals. Oh, and maybe the Mad Gasser has struck Lock Haven."
She looked up. "What?"
"I never mentioned the Mad Gasser?"
"Not that I remember."
"Old legend. Weird kind of guy, often mentioned in the same breath as the Jersey Devil, who struck Mattoon, Illinois decades ago. Was said to have a weird silver costume and pumped gas into peoples' homes, giving them headaches. He struck Pennsylvania in the forties, down near Philadelphia."
"Weird," she admitted. "Why do you think he struck here?"
"Noticed it in the newspaper the other day. Not far from here, on Main Street, someone was breaking into a car around two in the morning. He had a silver hoodie on, and the owners of the house woke up with headaches and reported a weird smell. It fits the profile."
Kara smiled. "The Mad Gasser, huh? I dig it."
"Seriously, look it up. I been a little bored lately; maybe I'll look into it."

The house where the possible Mad Gasser sighting had occurred was on the east end, near Piper. I didn't know the actual address, but I took a detour on the way home. It's this sort of attention to detail that sets me above all the other librarian-paranormal-curator-writers.
I didn't see anything obvious. No damaged properties, no aboveground gas lines. Nothing that could immediately explain a funny smell.
You can't always catch a break. Some days would make Reverend Joseph Nesbitt kick a baby.

"Lou," said Zach,"Are you the one who's been filling up my recycling bin with soda cans?"
"Those could be anybody's Yeti brand sodas," I said.
He rolled his eyes. "Very funny."
The library door opened, and Greg came in. Great. He nodded at me, and I tried to look civil.
"Hello, Lou," he said.
"Greg."
"I just came in to grade  a few papers. You know, end of the semester and my class is important. Is it okay if I use the Pennsylvania Room?"
"Sure. It's a public library."
In the best of all possible worlds, I'd be able to prove that this asshole was the Mad Gasser.
"It's been busy," he said. "I've had students e-mailing me and asking for extensions or bonus work." He shook his head. "I can't believe students do that. I never had the guts to ask my professors for a grade I hadn't earned when I was in college."
I nodded, trying to look busy.
"I mean, did you?" he asked.
"I never asked for extra credit," I said,"But I never really gave a crap about my grades, either."
He nodded slowly. Like a professor does. "And why was that?"
"Because I started volunteering as a teen," I said. "I was actually doing the job before I even got to college, which gave me much more experience than my professors. So who the hell are they to tell me how to do the job? They'd never done it, and I had."
I walked back to my desk, opened a Yeti brand soda, and got to work.
First I took the name of the victims, and checked it against the city directory. The address hadn't been in the newspaper, but I was able to look it up in a couple of minutes. I took one of the tourist maps of Lock Haven, unfolded it on top of the shelves with all the marriage certificates, and made a mark on Main Street where the house was. I used a red marker.
Then I got a blue marker, and marked up all the potential spots where a headache-inducing smell could have come from. Gas companies, trash companies, the sewage treatment plant. My map, which already had a yellow line around the historic district, was beginning to look pretty festive, considering the subject matter.
The next part was going to be a little tricky.
I pulled the newspaper from the day in question, which was stacked on a shelf by my desk anyway. The weather listed the speed of the wind, but not the direction, which was what I needed. I sat down at my desk and considered it as I drank some more Yeti soda.
Then I called President John at the museum.
"Hey, John? It's Lou. This is something I figure pilots and people in airlines would know. I need to know if there's anyplace I can get past weather reports that include wind direction."
"Oh, sure, there's a bunch of good websites for that. Just a second, I'll e-mail you a couple."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
"Okay, sending now."
"Thanks a lot, John. I'll be in on Monday to work on the Tri-Pacer acquisition."
I gave it a minute, drinking more Yeti soda and reading a few pages of the new Batman.  I'm not doing product placement here, it's just that the Yeti soda is really good stuff. Then I logged into my e-mail and tried the first link that John had sent.
On the night in question, the wind had been blowing north-northwest. I checked my map. That put it at exactly the right direction to have been coming from the sewage treatment plant on the southeast end of Lock Haven.
The next part was going to require a few more questions.

About fifty people gathered at the Station Gallery for the big preview of the TV show featuring Lock Haven. I worked my way through the crowd, finding Maria, our city planner.
"Hi, Lou!"
"Hi, Maria. Can you answer a question?"
"Sure."
"No big thing, most curiosity. Was there a problem at the sewer department Monday night?"
"Well, jesus christ, Lou, you know I don't run the whole city government, right? I'm just back in my own little corner."
"Sure, but you're the only friend I got at City Hall."
"The mayor thinks you're great."
"That's mutual, but I've known you longer. I figured you'd know who to ask."
"You want me to find out?"
"Only if it comes up organically."
"Let me make a couple of calls."
Five minutes later, she got off her phone and turned back to me.
"The answer is yes---There was a backup of some sort. I called Water and Sewer. Do you need details?"
"Nah, that's what I needed to know. Thanks, Maria."
"Is this going to be in the newspapers?"
"Probably not....It's not as dramatic as I thought it was."

"So, my Mad Gasser sighting wasn't the actual Mad Gasser after all," I said to Kara. "It was a minor crime that accidentally coordinated with a sewage problem. Just enough to look like the Mad Gasser, at least to me."
"So you solved a mystery that goes back for decades," said Kara. We were upstairs in the Sloan Room, with the Teen Paranormal kids arriving.
"Well, I don't know that I solved the whole thing," I said. "I'm not sure that's the explanation for everything since the 1940s. Only this one incident."
"Close enough," Kara said. "What's next?"
"Well, I did hear a rumor about a haunting at the Burger King."
"Seriously? The one they're renovating?"
"Yeah, in Flemington. Maybe I'll look into it, see what I can find out. I could get a column out of it."
"Yeah? What're you gonna call this one?"
"I don't know. 'Have It Your Wraith'?"
She laughed. "Why not?"
"What's the lesson tonight?" asked Aubrey.
"Spontaneous human combustion," I said. "We're going to learn how to investigate...."
"Like when someone explodes?" she asked.
I nodded. "More or less."
"Cool!"
"I have some chemistry stuff here to show you how to run a test," I said. "Glad to see you guys. Let's get to work."