McCann’s Manor: Portal
Book One of
The Actor’s Guild Paranormal Mystery Series
by
Charlotte Holley
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © Aug. 2009 by Charlotte Holley
Cover Art Copyright © 2009 by Charlotte Holley
Gypsy Shadow Publishing
Manchaca, TX 78652
http://www.gypsyshadow.com
Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010914035
eBook ISBN: 978-1-4524-6865-5
Print ISBN: 978-0-9844521-2-5
Manufactured in the United States of America
First eBook Edition: September 2009
Third Print Edition: September, 2010
Fourth Print Edition: August, 2011
****Seldom have I read such a complex novel. Ms. Holley has done a fantastic job of world building here. The ghosts are not mere cameo phantoms, but fully realized individuals. The feature that has a platinum star is her use of relationships. Such strong bonds of friendship are not incorporated often enough in fiction, much less life. It’s refreshing to see and should keep this series a winner. ****
—Reviewed by Amanda Killgore (Huntress Reviews)
Ms. Holley told quite an impressive story within these pages. The storyline was intriguing from the very beginning and I loved the twists and turns the author created for her readers. I loved this book because it had the perfect elements of mystery, romance and paranormal activity all rolled into one. I loved how the characters were portrayed and their interaction with one another was extremely believable. I was transported into the McCann’s estate seeing the story through my eyes as if I was another character who was trying to make sense out of all the paranormal occurrences. I honestly loved this story and thoroughly enjoyed the ride Ms. Holley took me on.
Without a doubt, not only will I read more stories by her, but also I will highly recommend this story to all readers. This story is a perfect Halloween read, but rest assured, you will love it anytime of year!
—Reviewed by Diana Coyle (Night Owl Romance)
McCann’s Manor: Portal is the first book of at least a three book series (there are three titles to date). I absolutely loved this story! It is filled with ghosts with tragic stories, scientific marvels, and an extremely puzzling mystery. Since both Liz and Kim are single, there are also some romantic interests thrown in to keep the story sizzling. Liz and Kim are a very talented team of psychics with many successful stories of helping spirits settle their issues so they can move on but this time, there are more than just restless spirits in this house. I also liked that Liz and Kim are older women who are in control of their lives, sharply intelligent, and not looking to retire but rather to find new interests and expand their lives! This story is so well done, I can’t wait to get a copy of the sequel and see what happens next. I have never read any work by Charlotte Holley prior to this book, but I will certainly be looking for more of her work; she is an excellent story teller! If you love ghost stories, stories about psychics, paranormal mysteries, or even a suspenseful romance, you will love this book!
—Reviewed by Stevi B. (Manic Readers)
Dedication
Since I was just a kid, I have read every mystery, fantasy and ghost story I could get my hands on, so it stands to reason I must dedicate this work first of all to those authors who inspired me, made me think and just plain scared the daylights out of me. I loved all those stories, and I always will!
This is also for my friends and family who have encouraged me to write, even when I refused to submit my work for publication . . . to Denise, who shares my love of and fascination with the unseen; to Jean Ann, who reads what I write and goads me to write more—and more; to my mother, whose spirit lingers near to me and watches over me; to those spirits I have seen and who have touched my life and to those spirits who are still to be encountered.
My love, dedication and respect to you all as well. . . .
Prologue
She slipped as she scrambled around the corner, whacked her slender arm on the painted cinder block wall and struggled to regain her balance. She mustn’t be caught; must keep running, but where? Where could she hide? How could she convince them she would never tell anyone what she’d seen? She’d stumbled on a secret and now they were going to kill her. I don’t care about their secret, she thought. I don’t want to die! Please, dear God, help me find a way out!
Her heart was in her throat as she raced down the hallway with its institution-beige walls, tore toward the room at the end—a slender, ghostly figure in a white gown, bare feet soundless on the cold, unyielding floor. If she could get inside the room, maybe she would be safe—at least have time—to think, to rest, to find the words to convince them she could do them no harm. Why did I have to be the one to learn their secret? I didn’t want to know! Besides, who’d believe me anyway? It’s all too hideous and far-fetched. Why can’t I wake up and find it’s all been a bad dream?
A few more steps and she’d be inside the room, behind a strong, locked door. Maybe they didn’t know where she was; she could hide until they gave up. Maybe she could pull this off and then—then what? They’d never stop until they found her.
At the end of the hall, she threw open the door and stole a glance behind her as she pulled the door closed and fumbled for a lock. No one was in the hall; no knob or latch met her eager, grasping fingers. Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she trembled against the door and tried to think. A quick scan of the darkened room revealed a semi-cluttered storage area with one small, high window at the far end which admitted enough light for her to see rows of stacked boxes on either side of the room.
She crept farther inside, tried to slow her breathing and heart rate to normal. Think, Missy! Why is it so hard to think? She crossed to the window, peered outside and down. She was several floors up, but she had no idea how many. It would be easy to slip her thin form through the window, but there was no fire escape on this end of the building, nowhere to go from here except down—a long way down—in a hurry.
She thought about the past year, moving to the city, coming to the Complex. How kind everyone had been to her; kind, that is, until last week when she first saw that thing. Was it only last week? It seemed a lot longer somehow, or was her memory affected by—by what? What could make her forget so much?
She should have left then, should have packed her meager belongings and headed for home, but no—she had to play nosy Missy, had to learn all about the thing she had seen, had to find out about the monster’s diabolical plans. Now she knew too much. Dr. Winter himself had said she must be silenced. Of all people, she had thought he was her friend, at least; otherwise she would never have confided in him. All she wanted was to forget about it, to go back home to the little house in Iowa and live in peace.
She raised the window with some difficulty, tiptoed until she could just push her head out to survey the outside of the building, hoping to find a ledge overhead—something, anything she could use to pull herself out of the window and to freedom. Nothing. She shrugged and was about to pull her head back inside, when she froze instead. A chill of dread ran icy fingers down her back and told her she was no longer alone—it had found her.
“No, please—” she cried, but she knew the monster hadn’t heard, and wouldn’t have cared if it had. Tremendous hands grabbed her from behind, shoving her head-first through the tiny window. She screamed, and then laughed in hysterics for thinking screaming would help. They’ll tell everyone I killed myself—they all say I’m suicidal. I am not crazy! Dad! You believed in me, didn’t you? At the bottom a second of searing pain was all she felt as the pavement deflated her crumpling body, wrested her tormented hysteria from her. Silence.
*~*~*~*
“My God!” Liz screamed as she drew a gulp of air into her lungs. “They killed her!”
Kimberly raced into the bedroom to her friend’s side and encircled her in warm, protective arms. “Liz, wake up! It was a dream. You’re all right! I could hear you screaming at the other end of the house,” she said. Liz was trembling and Kim rubbed her back, trying to calm her. The light from the hall revealed the ivory and cream-colored coverlet and lace-edged sheets, tangled in grotesque patterns from Liz’s thrashing. Kim reached down with one hand to straighten them.
“No, Kim, it wasn’t a dream—it was real! They killed her because she knew too much. I was there. Someone—or something shoved her out a window. I felt her body crunch when she hit the ground.” Elizabeth cringed. Her elegant blue and white nightgown was soaked in sweat; her breaths, shallow rasps. “Honestly, this was not like any nightmare I’ve ever had—it was real!”
Kimberly turned on the small dragonfly motif Tiffany-style bedside lamp and brushed Elizabeth’s tousled medium-length auburn hair out of her blue eyes. “Okay, I believe you,” she said. “Look, I’ll go make some cocoa and you can tell me all about it. Change to a fresh gown, wash your face and meet me in the kitchen.”
Liz took a deep breath and nodded. “All right. Thanks.”
Chapter 1—Nightmare
Elizabeth Carr and Kimberly Henson had been best friends and roommates off and on ever since their days at the University of Texas in Austin. They shared a common interest in the supernatural; both had an abundance of extrasensory perception, a gift that got them into as much trouble as it did adventure. Liz had always laughed about their friendship, saying they were destined to be roommates forever, because they were the only two people weird enough to understand each other.
Sure enough, they found they always wound up together, with time out for errant marriages and various career pursuits. Kim was open with people about her psychic abilities, while Liz had been more secretive, sharing the memories of her dream journeys with no one save Kim. Now, with Liz’s children grown and Kim taking an early retirement from her government job, they found themselves rooming together and dabbling in parapsychology as a profession.
Kim was just pouring the steaming water over the cocoa mix when Liz arrived in the kitchen and climbed onto one of the low-backed, padded bar stools. Her hands were still trembling as she reached for her mug with the caption, Treat me no differently than you would the Queen in an Elizabethan script under the picture of a smoky gray Persian cat. She didn’t notice the mug tonight, but instead merely continued to stir the hot liquid and powdered mix long after it was blended. Kim watched her friend with concern, and waited.
“You’re a good friend—nursing me through these episodes like a worried mom,” Liz said after a moment.
Kim smiled, took her own mug, decorated with the saying, There were a hell of a lot of things they didn’t tell me when I signed on this life, written above a puzzled-looking angel in blue jeans and a tank top with huge unfurled wings. Kim took her position on a stool beside Liz and stirred her own cup until the rich brown was creamy smooth. Her lazurite eyes twinkled behind thick, dark lashes as she surveyed her friend. “What else can I do?” she asked. “I know your dreams are more than just dreams. You forget, I’ve had my share of them. I’d hate it if I came to you with one of mine and you yawned, rolled over and told me to shut up and go back to bed!”
Liz shook her head and gave Kim a grin. “Is there anyone else in the world as crazy as we are?”
“You know we’re not crazy—weird, I know, but not crazy—we just see things differently from most people. What can you tell me about the dream?” Kim asked.
Liz sighed with a shrug. “You know, when I’m in the dream, I know all of it—when I come out, the details are sketchy at best. There was this girl, Missy, I think; wait, I know she called herself Missy, but after that, the whole thing starts to get vague. She was in a kind of mental fog, like she was drugged or something. I think she may have been in some sort of institution, but she was under the impression because of some secret she had learned, she was going to be killed.”
“Secret, huh? Must have been quite a secret to merit her death!” Kim mused. “So, did you get any feel for where she was?”
“She had thoughts about a farm in Iowa, but this place was in a big city somewhere. It makes no sense to me,” Liz said. “Her thoughts were jumbled, but she was certain she had seen something and they were determined to kill her for it. In the end, she was thinking they would tell people she had killed herself—but she wanted to live!”
“We might be able to check out the news services to see if someone named Missy fell to her death in some large city in Iowa and fan out from there.”
Liz shook her head. “Thereby proving what? I’m reasonably sure she wasn’t in Iowa anymore because of the way she thought of being back in Iowa. Anyway, I’m not sure it would do any good, aside from maybe proving the girl in my dream existed. Then, of course, there is the part about the monster—”
Kim frowned at Liz, cocking her head. “Monster?”
“I know; sounds like it just went into a whole different realm, doesn’t it? Somewhere in that area it stops being a possible true experience and enters the domain of fantasy,” she said with an exaggerated shrug. “Missy thought of the thing that threw her out the window as being a monster, but I don’t know if it was a literal monster.”
“So what can you tell me about this monster?”
Liz closed her eyes and tried to conjure up the vision Missy had of the thing she had seen, but came up empty. “It was vivid moments ago; now, it’s gone. Big, strong; very strong. Maybe it was a man, but there was something—I don’t know—not exactly human about it. Not much to go on, huh? “
“You could channel Missy,” Kim suggested.
Liz scowled.
“Or—you could try sketching the monster like you did with the murderer in the Flower Shop Case. You got so close to the way that guy looked, it helped them find him.”
Liz rolled her eyes, checked the time and said, “It’s four in the morning. Right now, I just want to calm down a little and try to go back to sleep. I’ll tell you what; when you do the research and find there was a girl named Missy who fell to her death in a large city in Iowa or some other state, I’ll try to come up with more details.”
Kim pursed her lips, putting on her best disappointed look, “Sounds like a pretty tall order. All right, you win. I’ll drop it but you know the longer you wait, the harder it may be to get more information.”
“We don’t even know when it happened; it may have been years ago,” Liz pointed out. “You know, these things aren’t very time-specific; as far as where it happened; hold a dandelion up to the wind and see where the seeds land!”
“That’s true, I guess, and then there is also the possibility you witnessed an event which hasn’t happened yet; if we could find out more, maybe we could save that poor girl,” Kim said as she gave Liz a hopeful look.
Liz sipped the last of her cocoa, eyed Kim’s curly dark brown hair, felt the usual twinge of envy as she thought of how the bouncy, natural-curly mane always looked good, even when Kim had been jarred into wakefulness in the middle of the night. “Then, of course, the possibility also exists that I saw something that didn’t occur, and isn’t going to happen at all in this reality—ever! And if it hasn’t happened, what are we going to do, scour the countryside for girls from Iowa named Missy?”
“Okay, I will admit that as a possibility, but why would you have been shown it, if not to try to help in some way, even if it was only to bring her killers to justice?”
Liz had no answer for Kim’s question. She’d asked herself the same thing often enough as she pondered the responsibility of knowing things others didn’t. What good was the knowledge if she didn’t use it to try to help in some way? Then again, what could she do to help in a case like this? If Missy were dead, nothing she could do would bring her back. If her vision had been of an event to come, there was still little she could do to change it; given the small amount of knowledge she had about where Missy was and when her demise would occur. Besides, Missy was probably a nickname; how could they find out her full name? How could they learn where she was, if the incident hadn’t occurred?
Liz stood, took her mug to the sink and rinsed it. “Thanks for the talk and the cocoa, Kimberly Dawn,” she said. “I think I’m going to try to go back to sleep now. We have to start packing in a few hours for the big move.”
Kim smiled, walked to the sink and rinsed her own mug. The big move . . . their landlady had given them two weeks to move out or start paying more rent—lots more rent. This house was in the middle of a booming resort area, and she could get more money for weekend rentals than they wanted to pay by the month. Never mind they had no place else to live; just get out of there. Oh, they’d be okay; they always were somehow, but where would they go this time? The thought made Kim feel tired. She watched Liz close her bedroom door before turning off the kitchen light and heading back to her own room.
*~*~*~*
Packing and moving their things into storage went well, except for the sudden cloud bursts that seemed to come every time they started carrying boxes out of the house. Kim procured a used, but sound twenty-seven-foot travel trailer, and they put all the things they would need right away in it; the rest went into a climate-controlled storage unit. Liz fought the idea of pulling a travel trailer behind Kim’s Jaguar, even if the car was an older model; in the end, they made arrangements with a friend to tow the trailer behind his pickup truck to the KOA campground. The solution made more sense than renting a motel room, if for no other reason than for the sake of their two pets, a semi-tame black barn cat named Spooky and their finicky champagne and white Pekingese, Ghost.
The two animals were last to be loaded and placed in the back seat of the shiny white Jag with Spooky, in a snit in his cat carrier; Ghost, left to his own devices loose, although a tiny leash six feet long hung from his collar, giving them a fair chance of nabbing him if he took off. The stocky little dog liked traveling and had been on many journeys with them. The sleek cat was newer to the family and also a novice to the ritual of being thrown in the car for the latest adventure. He set his claws around the bars of the carrier door and began cat-yodeling as soon as the car started to move. Liz grimaced, but Kim put a hand behind the seat and tried to calm the unhappy little feline as she drove down the road, followed by Charles’ pickup and the trailer.
Liz sat silent and watched the house by the lake, their residence for the last thirty-six months, disappear from view. Funny, she hadn’t known how much she would miss it until she glimpsed the last sight of it as they rounded the corner.
They’d had some good times in the simple cabin; despite the few not-so-good times, she would miss it. Located in the Hill Country west of Austin, it sat across a country lane from Lake Travis and was surrounded by oak trees, limestone outcrops and abundant wildlife. Liz got her first real taste of country living at that house, and she adored being there more than she had ever thought possible. She had always thought of herself as a city girl, but the lake cabin had forever erased her preference for the city.
“What are you thinking?” Kim asked after the cat settled in, the car grew quiet and they had traveled several miles along the road to town.
Liz sighed, “Oh, nothing, really; missing it already, that’s all.”
“I thought you didn’t want to stay there when Cora decided to up the rent. We could have stayed, you know.”
Liz smiled. “Yes, I know. I’m okay about leaving, but I’ll miss it, especially the lake. You know how I am about water.”
Kim shook her head. Yes, she knew how Liz was about the water, but she never understood how anyone who loved the water so much could have lived her entire life without ever learning to swim. To Kim, the most fun thing about it was the water sports; all Liz ever wanted to do was observe; one of the many ways she and Liz were different.
“What about you? Won’t you miss it?” Liz asked, looking at her friend, who changed residences so often.
Kim shrugged. “There are some things about it I’ll miss a lot, I guess, but also some things I’m glad to be leaving, like our prying landlady. I feel we did what we were supposed to do here and it is time to be moving on.”
“Yeah, three years is a long time for you to stay in one spot!” Liz teased.
“Hey, what is that supposed to mean, that I’m a gypsy?”
“A proud title you’ve earned; one which you carry with you everywhere you go,” Liz said. “I have to admit, it is more interesting than staying in one place all your life.”
Kim smiled. Since she graduated from David Crockett High School, she had moved a lot, but she knew Liz, an only child, had lived with her parents in one house in West Texas until she went to UT. After college, Liz had lived with her husband and kids in one home until her children were teens. “Has it been interesting for you? I mean, you used to be a home body kind of gal.”
Liz grinned, shook her head and said, “You mean a stick-in-the-mud, don’t you?”
“Certainly not!” Kim replied, “Stick-in-the-mud has never been what I would call you. You stayed close to home, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I stayed home with the kids until they were old enough to have some input about moving somewhere else. You were always the adventuress. I wasn’t brave enough to take off into the distance.”
“You are the brave one; you took care of your family after Chuck died, and you did it alone. I wouldn’t have been able to do what you did,” Kim contradicted.
“Nonsense, you got married again after what Danny did to you. That takes guts,” Liz argued, remembering how her friend had come to her door in the middle of the night, devastated.
“I’m not sure how much guts it took, but it did prove I wasn’t always as good at listening to my inner guidance as I am now. Frank was no prize either, and if I had listened, I would never have gone for that second marriage, I’ll tell you that much,” Kim stated, disgusted at the memory.
Liz giggled, asking, “What? Gosh, Kimberly Dawn, you mean to tell me you would have missed the chance to have this wonderful vintage Jag?”
“Oh, ha-ha, very funny! Repeat after me: Never marry for a Jaguar; it’s cheaper, and easier, to buy one, even if you have to take out a loan.” She grinned, “The car was the best thing to come out of the marriage, but it isn’t old enough to be considered vintage.”
“He did take good care of it,” Liz said, running her hand over the comfortable pristine leather seat.
“I’ll say. If he’d taken half as good care of me I would still be with him!” Kim shrugged, adding, “I guess things are more important to some people than people are.”
“You know, I always thought you and Frank were the perfect couple,” Liz cooed. “Rich, beautiful, loving. . . .”
“Oh, is that so? Then you aren’t as psychic as I think you are! I’d have thought you’d have known Frank and his ego were the perfect couple,” she said, lips pursed. “No one had better try to put that relationship asunder, or woe be unto them.”
Liz shook her head and laughed. “Oh, how could I have forgotten about that relationship? Must be the first signs of ‘old-timers’ disease setting in.”
Kim stifled a chuckle as she slowed the car and turned into the KOA driveway. “What is it with you about old age? Ever since you hit forty-five, you’ve been talking about being old.”
“I don’t know—maybe I’m just feeling it more now that I’m a grandmother. Who knows?”
Kim shrugged as she pulled up in front of the office building, parking close to the tiny swimming pool. As she got out of the car she said, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to tell Pam we’re here.”
Liz nodded, watching her friend’s easy gait as Kim bounded into the office. Her curly-haired buddy always knew people by their first names soon after making the acquaintance. Casual relationships were her specialty. Liz had begun to look around at the trees, other trailers and recreational vehicles when Kim reappeared a couple of minutes later, a smile on her face.
“Well, Miss Grandmother, I’m too young to be old, and I won’t have you trying to push me into feeling old just because you think you should be feeling it more!” Kim said as she tossed her head and let the car idle while they watched Charles pull the trailer into the space she had rented. She swung the car into the parking area by the little picnic table and small flower garden full of Mexican heather and alyssum and switched off the engine. “He may need a little help unhooking this thing, Grandma.”
“Okay, forget I said anything about it, all right? I was trying to be funny. But you know, not all of us are eternally youthful like some people.”
Kim sighed and opened her door. “Jokes about old age are not funny to me somehow. Joke about something else.”
Liz rolled her eyes, opened her own door. “Stay, Ghost. Good dog. You thought it was funny, didn’t you, boy?”
“Hey, you, don’t be looking for support from the mutt! You know he always takes my side.” Kim closed the door and headed toward the back of the truck.
“Did you hear that? She called you a mutt! You still gonna side with her?” The dog plopped down on the seat, head resting on his front paws. She closed the door. “So much for loyalty,” she complained.
“He’s loyal—loyal to me,” Kim said with a smile.
Liz walked to the back of the truck, her bottom lip jutting out in her best pout as she whined, “All the animals always love you better.”
Kim ignored Liz’s statement and started to hook the trailer up to the water and electricity. “Do you think you can level the trailer while I connect everything?”
Liz smiled as Charles rolled down the support on the front hitch. “Yeah, sure—does this one work the same as the one we rented last summer, or is it one of those older, unimproved models?” She was being facetious; the trailer they had rented for their vacation the year before was ancient.
“Need any help with that, Kim?” Charles asked.
“I think I can handle it. Thanks Charles. You’ve done enough. The instructions looked pretty much the same, Liz. The man at the sales place said everything has been renovated and works just like a new one,” Kim said, walking over to stand beside her friend and giving him an appreciative hug.
Liz took a deep breath, said more to herself than anyone else, “Sure, if you can believe a travel trailer salesman.”
“I guess I had better get to work, then. Talk to you girls later,” Charles said, getting into his truck. Kim and Liz thanked him again, waved goodbye and watched him drive off.
Kim walked around the trailer to where Liz was pulling the leveling jacks out of the side compartment. “What was that you were saying?” she asked.
Liz straightened, smiling at her friend. “Hmmm? Oh, nothing; just talking to myself, which, of course—as you know—is another sign of aging.”
Kim slumped, sighed. “Will you knock it off!”
Liz shoved her tongue into her cheek, grinned, “Gotcha’!”
Chapter 2—Birthday Ball
The trailer set-up went well and the two women got their pets oriented, then showered and passed an uneventful afternoon sorting things, putting everything in place and getting their new habitat in order. The afternoon rolled on, and it was time for them to get ready for the party they were invited to that evening. To Liz’s delight, everything did indeed work the way it was supposed to and with two pullout sections, the trailer was roomy enough to be almost comfortable.
She smiled, hands on her hips to signal she was finished with her homemaker’s duties. “Ah, home, sweet home!”
“Ah, nut, sweet nut! It takes so little for you to feel at home,” Kim teased.
Liz shook her head and sighed, “I know. Anyone would think I was the professional nomad, not you!” She laughed at Kim’s grimace.
“Yeah, right! I can remember when you fought any kind of change, especially change of address.” Kim chuckled, leaning down to straighten one of the pillows on the tiny couch.
“Well, sure, but then you got me trained and now I’m almost as adaptable as you. I’m a champion vagabond, just like you!”
“Uh-huh, sure you are. Tell me, Miss Champion Vagabond Grandma, what are you going to wear tonight? Do you think this black body suit and my flowered wraparound will be too outrageous, or just right?” She held them up in front of her and looked at Liz.
Liz paused, considered the apparel Kim held out for her inspection, an impish grin on her face, and said, “Oh, I think those clothes look just like . . .”
“Yes? Like what?” Kim asked, her expression defensive.
“Why, like you, of course; they are cool, comfortable, a bit suggestive and colorful. I definitely think you should wear them,” she said, putting on a look of innocence.
“And what are you going to wear?” Kim asked, wondering if she had made the right choice.
Liz stalled, grumbled, replied, “Well, I can’t manage the no-bra mode, and my hips won’t do for the wraparound thing, so I guess it’s skirt and blouse for me. No one said we were supposed to dress up or anything, did they?” She peeped into her tiny closet, nose crinkled to the side.
“Hmmm, guess I should have asked our hostess; I know she has some posh, la-ti-da friends and we want to make the right impression. Don’t we?” Kim said.
Liz looked at the ceiling before turning around to face Kim, who had discarded the body suit and gone back to her closet. “I would say that all depends on which set of friends she invited tonight. Some of Grace’s friends, I’d just as soon not make an impression on at all. Know what I mean?”
Kim pursed her lips and peered at Liz through narrowed eyes. “What are you saying? Would you rather not go?” she asked.
“Oh, no; I mean, it’s always an interesting time at Grace’s, for sure. It’s just that, well, I’m not psychic enough to know how to dress for one of her soirées without asking her what the dress code might be. You and I tend to stand out from the crowd a little already and if we go dressed in our usual devil-may-care garb, it could get nasty.” Liz sounded less than confident.
Kim sighed and let her shoulders droop. “So I suppose that means you want me to call her.”
Liz looked at the floor and said, “Well, she is your friend, after all. You almost married her brother. I barely know the woman.”
“My friend? I thought you and she were thick as ticks on the back of a wild hog. And I did not almost marry him.”
Liz cackled, “You must have me mistaken for someone else. She and I are not anything near as thick as all that!”
“All right, all right, I’ll call her, but I won’t like it!”
Liz raised her eyebrow and returned to looking in her closet as Kim pushed in the numbers on the cell phone. “You’ll like it better, I’ll wager, than showing up dressed like that with everyone else wearing dinner jackets and long dresses.”
Kim turned her back on her friend, smiled into the phone and said, “Gracie, how’s it going? I was just calling to see if you needed us to stop off and get anything for tonight. No? Are you sure? Oh, I see. By the way, I forgot to ask; how formal is this little get-together? Oh. Great. Thanks. We’ll see you in a little while. ‘Bye.”
Liz waited.
Kim put the phone down, took a deep breath and stood staring into space.
“Well?”
“It’s Wade’s birthday,” she announced.
“Who’s Wade?”
Kim glared at Liz, “You remember Wade—Grace’s brother, Wade—the aspiring middle-aged actor, the one you were just accusing me of almost marrying?”
Liz frowned a moment before recognition crossed her face. “Oh, that Wade. Wade, the forever-in-love-with-Kimberly-Dawn, Wade. Of course! I can never remember his stage name! Why did she invite us to his birthday party?”
Kim smiled, “She wants us to give him readings . . . for his birthday present!”
“Are these paid readings from his sister, or free readings from us?”
Kim continued to smile.
“I see. Good thing we called—otherwise I would’ve had to give him a reading with playing cards. This is going to be a really fun time, isn’t it?”
Kim’s smile was becoming more of a sneer. “There is more!” she announced.
“I thought there might be; and it is?” Liz smiled expectantly back at Kim.
“We have just over an hour to find and don our costumes. She is giving a fancy, catered, costume ball in his honor.”
“Well, that figures. All our costumes are in storage.”
“I know that! The question is: Do you know where in storage?”
“Of course, I know exactly where they are—and there’s no way of getting to them in time for that party,” Liz said. “If we have to go in costumes, we had better get our buns over to that little costume shop. It’s either that, or we had better invent something here, because the storage thing isn’t going to work at all. Even if we could find them in time, we’d be too hot and gross from digging for costumes in this hundred-degree weather, climate-controlled storage or not.”
“Okay, I don’t need a complete dissertation on why it won’t work,” Kim scolded. “However, I would be open to suggestions. I think the costume shop has probably already closed for the day.”
Liz crossed her arms, patted her foot on the floor before breaking out in laughter. “Well, if we are supposed to go tell Wade’s fortune, we should go dressed as gypsy fortune tellers.”
“But in what?”
“Look, you go ahead and put on that body suit and wraparound and I will wear that pair of gold harem pants and my black peasant blouse; we’ll put on tons of makeup, lots of jewelry and voila, gypsy fortune tellers!”
Kim slumped again, then asked, “Are you sure you want to go to this party?”
“You already told her we’d be there; no backing out now. Besides, I have a feeling this party might lead to something good for us. Maybe it’s the perfect chance for you and Wade to work out your karma thing.”
“We don’t have a karma thing,” Kim said, “so drop that bit right now or I’ll kill you and tell Grace you died of heat stroke on the way to storage. I mean it.”
“Okay-okay, enough said. Come on, let’s hustle.” Liz started through her jewelry box for gaudy costume jewelry while Kim opened her closet and started pulling out scarves to create a turban.
*~*~*~*
Kim and Liz arrived at Grace Freeman’s ostentatious Lake Austin home at seven-fifteen; not too late to be on time, but late enough for their entrance to make a statement. Parking in the circle drive and handing the keys to one of the teenagers acting as valet, Kim stopped to admire the fountain with its abundance of summer-blooming flowers. Native lantana, black-eyed Susans and a wide range of other yellows, pinks and reds surrounded the fountain with its mustang colts cavorting in stone bluebonnets and prairie grasses.
They entered the door, looked around, and saw most of the other guests had already arrived and were dressed in various period costumes ranging from Louis XIV powdered wigs and accessories to futuristic extraterrestrial garb. Many of them wore masks.
Their hostess met them just inside the door. “Liz, Kim, how marvelous the two of you look—perfect costumes,” she said. Looking at the small bags each one of them carried, she said, “You know, I’m sure there are any number of people here who’d love to have readings, if you’re so inclined.” Her pale lavender costume seemed unwieldy, with a huge hoop skirt, miles of lace and fairy wings a la Glenda, the good witch of the North. Her dainty figure was accentuated by a glittering silver and rhinestone waistband.
Liz smiled through gritted teeth, reached across the huge dress and hugged her hostess. Kim waited for her obligatory hug and said, “You know, we didn’t come here to put on a show, Gracie. Of course, we’d be willing to do some readings if that’ll make your friends happy,” she lied; she wasn’t willing at all.
Grace beamed, tapped each one of them with her fairy wand and said, “We have a number of famous celebs here tonight, you know. That’s why Wade and I decided to have a costume party. That way, the poor dears can be treated like ordinary people for one evening, at least.”
Liz shrugged her shoulders and stifled a chuckle at being tapped with a magic wand. “That’s our Gracie, always thinking of the comfort of others,” she observed.
Grace gave a feigned blush, ducking her head. “Oh, now, you know I do try.” She said in her best imitation of a Southern Belle. “I wanted Wade’s birthday to be the best, and it was the only way all his friends could feel comfortable about coming,” she said.
“The place looks fabulous, Grace. You’ve really outdone yourself this time,” Liz observed. She looked around the living area. Multicolored ribbons and frothy lace hung from the second floor loft. Fresh flowers adorned every flat surface—tables, shelves and stands. Wheatgrass centerpieces with colorful picks laden with shrimp rolls and cheese cubes stood along the buffet with chips, chili con queso on a warmer and fresh vegetables cut and arranged in exotic patterns. “I know Wade must consider himself fortunate to have you for a sister,” she added, rolling her eyes at Kim. How does she manage to blush on cue? Liz wondered. Acting must run in their genes.
Kim read the look Liz gave her, cleared her throat, then bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Yes, indeed. And where is the birthday boy, Grace?” she asked.
Grace looked around the room, but failed to find Wade. Shrugging she said, “He was right here just a minute ago. Now, where could he have gone? You two make yourselves at home and I’ll find him.” She floated away into the crowd.
“Oh, no, Grace? Rats! Me and my big mouth. Now we will be supposed to follow the two of them around all night until she makes the announcement that her psychic friends are ready to begin the freak show,” Kim complained.
Liz chuckled, “Relax, kid. Something tells me she’s already told her illustrious guests about her friends the psychics, and we’re already under their intense scrutiny.”
Kim looked around the room and to her dismay, saw several pairs of eyes looking at them. “Great. I should have told her we expected to have our anonymity too.”
Liz let out a string of giggles, and then patted Kim on the shoulder, “Come on, Kimberly Dawn, lighten up! We should be having a great time. I mean, here we are hobnobbing with some of the elite of the universe and all you can do is bristle because they know who we are?”
“Yeah, but do you think this is fair? I mean, she’s put us on the spot again. She has all these unnamed guests here expecting to stay that way and they all know we are psychics and . . .” She focused at a point to the left of Liz’s face and said, “Oh, hello, Wade, how are you?”
A tall, dark-haired man in a vampire suit swooped in next to Kim; his fangs bared, and encircled her with his black satin cape. “Kimberly, how wonderful to see you again. I’m so glad you and Emma could make it.”
Liz smiled and held out her hand to Wade, “Wade Buscher; aren’t you the charmer, though!” She said, “It’s Liz, Wade. Happy birthday.”
Wade staggered a bit, but took her hand and pecked at it with his lips. “Of course, how stupid of me; I meant Liz,” he said, a look of triumph on his face. He did love riling her, didn’t he? “Great to see you. We’ve several surprise guests tonight. Can you pick them out?”
“Are you challenging me?” she asked with a smile, careful not to show her disapproval. Regardless of what she divined from the crowd, Liz had picked up on the fact the birthday boy had started celebrating much earlier in the day.
“Well, no, but you are psychic. I just thought you might have an impression or something,” Wade mocked.
Liz looked him square in the eye a moment, then smiled and raised one eyebrow. “I do indeed have all sorts of impressions, Wade.” Come on, Liz, she thought, think of something. “Most of all right now, my impression is that I’m thirsty and hungry. Why don’t you and Kim visit while I go check out the refreshment situation?” she asked.
“Why, yes,” he agreed, still holding his cape around Kim’s shoulder, “why don’t we visit a while? I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Watching as her sole chance for a quick escape walked away, Kim gave up on breaking free of his grip and tried to relax. Just take a deep breath, she told herself. “So, Wade, tell me all about life in the West.”
“What, California? Oh, well, you know; it’s a concrete jungle out there. It’s so nice to be here among old friends. You look—good enough to eat!” he growled.
Kim managed to wriggle from his grasp at that remark, “Uh, Wade . . . thank you for the compliment, but I don’t . . . I mean, I don’t feel comfortable hogging all your attention. After all, it is your birthday and these are your friends. We should mingle.”
Wade sighed, “Sorry. I just keep hoping maybe someday you’ll see me the way I see you . . . the way I have always seen you, as the one person in the world I’d want to spend the rest of my life with.”
Oh, my, she thought; melodramatic as ever, aren’t we? “I’m flattered, but I’m not very lucky in the long-term relationship business. You’d wind up wishing you’d never got that close to me in the first place. Please, let’s just keep on being friends, okay?”
Wade looked deep into her eyes, pressed her hand to his heart, then to his lips. “All right, but you know all you have to do is say the word and I would do anything for you.”
Kim took another deep breath and tried to calm her temper. Wade was good-looking enough; always had been, but he never had been the type she could enjoy being around. The more he seemed interested in her, the less she could stomach him. It’d been that way for her ever since high school. Yet he was the one who kept turning up in her life. Maybe Liz was right; maybe it was karmic. “Perish the thought!” she said.
“What? What thought?” he said with a frown.
His response surprised her into realizing she had spoken aloud. “Oh, nothing. I just suddenly realized I’m hungrier than I knew; the thought of food is making me weak.”
“Jesus! Aren’t you taking care of yourself? Haven’t you been eating right? I know you’re on the move again, but you know you shouldn’t neglect your health,” he fussed.
“Oh, Wade, it’s nothing like that; I was tired and hot this afternoon, so I didn’t eat when we finished the move because it would have made me sick. Now I’m over being hot and I have rested a bit, so I am hungry.”
Wade smiled down at her, said, “Of course you are. Come along. Let’s go get you some food. Gracie has everything you could ever want.”
Kim allowed herself to be whisked across the room to where Liz was nibbling her way along the buffet table.
*~*~*~*
“So, tell me . . . are you Liz or Kim?” a tall man asked as he sidled up to Liz. He was dressed as a bright green alligator with yellow triangles trailing from the top of his head all the way to the end of the tail.
She smiled and extended her hand, “I’m Liz. And you are—Al, right?”
He gave a hearty laugh and pushed his mask up to reveal his face. “How astute. I’m John, John Carter. Pleased to meet you, Liz.”
“Oh, well, it is nice to meet you, too, Mr. Carter,” she said, taken aback as she saw his face.
“No-no! You must call me John or don’t call me.” He smiled at her, realizing she was surprised when she recognized who he was.
Liz returned his smile and said, “All right, John. Have it your way.”
“Grace tells me you and Kim are professional psychics.”
Liz sighed. She was toe-to-toe with film legend John Carter with nothing to say, so she fell back on her standard answer. “Parapsychologists, actually, although we sometimes do psychic readings; that isn’t our primary focus.”
“Yes, of course. Forgive me if I’ve offended you.” He was perceptive enough to hear the exasperated tone in her voice. He could relate; the tone had been in his own responses in the past often enough.
“No, I’m not offended at all, John, just a little put out with our hostess. Is that all Grace ever says about us? I love being a professional psychic; I just don’t always love all the questions that go with it.”
“Good, because I have a little proposition for you and your friend, and I wouldn’t want us to get off on the wrong foot,” John said as he eyed her curiously, as though trying to size her up. He led her by the arm to the large bay window, which harbored plants and a small amount of privacy.
He was making her nervous; tall, dark-haired with steel blue-gray eyes; perhaps in his early to mid-fifties and still quite handsome. A third generation screen actor, he had been one of Hollywood’s hottest leading men until a couple of years ago. Rumor had it a drinking habit had begun to get in the way. Liz had heard he’d settled in semi-retirement in the Austin area. Indeed, it was becoming quite the vogue for actors to gravitate toward Central Texas. What kind of proposition could he have for her? “I’m all ears,” she said.
He leaned back and gave her a complete and provocative once over, “Oh, no, you have many other delectable attributes besides just your ears, my dear!”
Liz cleared her throat and smiled, “Well, thank you, John. I don’t know what else to say. You have piqued my curiosity, though, about this proposition . . .”
John gave her a dazzling smile. “Grace also tells me you’re looking for a place to live.”
“Did Grace give you a full biography, or just partial?”
“I’m interested in parapsychology myself, so she knew I’d be interested in meeting you. Do you remember Betty Tatum? She had her heyday a little before your time, I’m afraid.”
“I love old movies. Of course, I remember her. She was a lovely, lovely lady,” Liz said.
“She still is, although she has passed the time of being able to care for herself adequately. She lives in a retirement home near here. The old dear is ninety-six. Did you know she owns a fabulous old home in the Bastrop area, overlooking the Colorado River?” John asked.
“No, I didn’t; that’s fascinating.”
“Well, you will probably be even more captivated to learn the place is haunted,” he announced, then cocked his head to the side and peered at her from under arched eyebrows, gauging her reaction.
She giggled, “Well, Bastrop—you gotta figure—lots of haunted places there. So, are you looking for ghost busters for the place?” She wondered where this conversation was leading.
“Betty was a dear friend of my father’s and when he passed away, I became her confidant in his stead. When she and her husband moved to the old place in the late forties, she adored it from the first time she saw it. She still loves the place and has set up a trust fund for its care for the next fifty years; maybe even longer,” he said.
“Wow. It must be an incredible place,” Liz commented.
“Oh, it is, let me assure you. Now she has decided the house needs to be healed, the spirits appeased—whatever you want to call it. For the last ten years, she—actually I—have been trying, at her insistence, to find someone who can do that. I can’t tell you how many people I have had out there trying to clean the spirits out of the place; all with no success.” He shook his head. “Everyone either has some kind of breakdown or just runs screaming into the night.”
Liz was intrigued, “Are you serious?” She looked around to see if anyone was paying any attention to them. Not in the least; no one was close, although she saw some speculative glances her way as people noticed who was with the alligator.
He continued in a low, urgent tone, “I assure you, I’m quite serious. So is Betty. She is so serious about it, she has written up a proviso on a contract which will allow anyone who can live in the house for one full year and get rid of the bad spirits to own the house, title and all.”
Liz frowned, “I don’t understand. She loves it so much, why would she give it away?”
“You have to understand Betty. She has suffered a lot because of that house. Her husband killed himself there and her daughter Missy went mad there; later took her life in an institution.”
Liz felt a thrill of intuitive response to the name Missy, but cleared the emotion as she listened.
“Betty herself suffers from dementia largely, I believe, because of this place. She feels if someone can stay there a year it will prove the curse, for want of a better term, is broken. She wants to visit it again before she dies and she doesn’t think she can do that unless the spirits are all put to rest. I think she is afraid she will become one of them herself, tied emotionally to the house as she is,” he explained.
“But why give it away?” she repeated. Her daughter Missy? Liz thought. Missy was the name of the girl from her nightmare. Was there a connection?
“She has no family left alive. In her mind, giving it to whomever can break the curse is the proper karmic action. Otherwise, the state would wind up with the place and God only knows what would become of it then.”
Liz said, “Yes, I suppose it makes sense at least to have a say in who gets it in the end. What about this curse?”
“Local legend has it old Ben McCann, who built the house in the late seventeen hundreds, had a stash of gold there and that it’s his ghost who still guards the gold so jealously he kills or drives anyone mad who tries to stay there. You see, no one ever found the gold.”
Liz laughed, shaking her head.
“What do you find so amusing?”
“Don’t take offense, John, but the spirits I’ve dealt with have never been into destroying people to protect anything as temporal as gold. There’s almost always some other underlying reason for them to stay at a place,” she paused to finish her thought, “some unfinished business perhaps, keeping them from being able to continue their journey.”
John stared at Liz a moment, a blank expression on his face before speaking, then said, “I understand that may be the way it usually is, but in this instance . . . there is a malevolence in that house, and I’ve also felt it.”
Liz pursed her lips. If McCann’s ghost were that menacing, why had Betty Tatum loved the place so much? Why had she stayed there? Why was she searching for someone who could put the spirit, the place, to rest? “So, tell me more about McCann.”
“No one knows much about him, I don’t think, except he was a smuggler and a privateer. He had a business partner named David Spencer, who broke off all relations with him after he learned what McCann was up to. What we know about McCann comes down through the Spencer family,” he said.
“So, what is known about McCann could be hearsay, or even out-and-out lies?” Liz prodded. Why had she said that?
John opened his mouth, closed it, pursed his lips, shrugged his broad shoulders, “I suppose that’s true,” he sputtered.
“Interesting. Are any of the Spencers still around?”
“Around Bastrop? Yes, one of his descendants still lives there. She has some of Spencer’s records, but she doesn’t seem to know much about the man or his dealings with McCann.”
“Ah, then you have spoken with her?”
“Well, of course. I tried to dig into this thing, to please Betty; but I don’t know enough. I’m interested in the paranormal, but it is only a hobby of mine. I’m an actor. The place needs someone with you and your friend’s abilities. Liz, at least say you’ll come out and look at it; maybe spend a few days and think about it,” he coaxed.
Liz smiled, “I don’t think I can pass it up; sounds fascinating, John. When do you want to show it to us?”
John perked up, taking her hand in his. “Somehow I just knew I could count on you. Would tomorrow be too soon?” he asked.
“Tomorrow afternoon would be all right; I have an appointment in the morning. Would that work for you?”
He smiled once again, another dazzling smile, “That would be perfect. I can come get you or meet you someplace; whichever you prefer. How about meeting for lunch and you and Kim can ride over with me?”
Chapter 3—Hello Again
“So, where did you disappear to? I did fifteen readings, by myself, over by the pool with no sign of you whatsoever!” Kim made a point to ask as they walked to the circle drive and waited for the Jaguar to be brought around. It was one in the morning. Kim continued with more than a hint of exasperation, “I thought we were both supposed to give Wade a reading, at least. When you didn’t show, I had to give him two!”
Liz gave Kim a look of shock, then smiled, an impish twinkle in her blue eyes. “I met someone,” she chuckled.
Kim shrugged, “Well, give the girl a cigar! She met someone, big whoopee!”
Liz giggled, “Come on, you’re not that upset with me, are you?” Her friend never stayed upset with her for long.
“Well, I don’t know. Exactly who is this joker you met?” Kim pried.