Chapter 8
"You're sure you're not picking him up?" Steven asked.
"Andrew Sable is one slippery ghost," I said as I moved back into the kitchen after searching the entire ground floor. "I keep reaching out, encouraging a reply, but he won't answer me."
"Maybe it's what you're wearing," Steven said, looking at my jeans-sweater-and-hiking-boots combo critically. "My grandfather liked the ladies. You should change back into that dress you wore for me."
I scowled at him. "First of all, what I'm wearing is perfectly acceptable ghostbusting attire. Second, I did not wear that dress for you."
"You have worn it out with other men?" he asked me, and his confident grin told me he knew I hadn't.
"Maybe it's not me he's not responding to. Maybe he's just appalled that his grandson squeals like a little girl," I snipped.
"Ouch," Steven said, putting a hand over his heart. "I am wounded."
His unwavering smile said otherwise. "Sorry," I said anyway, feeling bad about the comment. "I get snappish when my blood sugar gets low. How long before our pizza arrives?"
"Let's hope they deliver it at all," Steven said with a small chuckle. "I believe the man who took the order was a little upset after I yelled in his ear."
"Got anything I can snack on?" I asked hopefully.
"There are some crackers in the pantry. You may help yourself," he said as he waved his hand in the direction of a set of double doors next to the fridge.
I went to the pantry, opened the door, and gasped. Steven must have heard me because he asked, "What is it? Is it him? Are you picking up my grandfather?"
"In a matter of speaking," I said. "Check it out."
Steven came over to me and looked in. His mouth hung open. "That is so freaking out!"
My head swiveled to Steven. "You really shouldn't try to use American slang just yet," I said.
Steven ignored me and continued to look at the pantry. "Have you ever seen anything like this?"
"No," I admitted. "We'll definitely want to take a picture; I think it's pretty unique, and Gilley and I have a collection of odd stuff on our Web site." The pantry didn't offer much in the way of food—some dry goods like cereal, flour, sugar, and pasta, along with some canned vegetables and soups. The unusual thing wasn't in the contents. It was in the way they were displayed.
Every item had been turned upside down, save one. A container of Quaker oatmeal, right side up, sat front and center, prominently displayed among all the other upsidedown items. "What did I tell you?" Steven said as he lifted the container. "My grandfather wanted to live a healthy life. He didn't commit suicide, and this message from beyond his grave proves it."
"I'll never doubt you again,'' I said, and took the oatmeal from him to examine it more closely.
Just then there was a bong from the front of the house. "Pizza's here," Steven said, and went to get the door. I put the oatmeal back exactly as it had been and dug my digital camera out of my pocket. After taking a quick picture I closed the pantry door and turned around to face the area where I'd seen Andrew. Again I focused all of my energy on attempting to make contact. I closed my eyes and reached out in my mind. Andrew! Andrew Sable, if you're here, please speak to me!
I waited and finally, with the softest touch, I got a message that sounded like M… was… trouble… My eyes snapped open and I walked forward, attempting to make a stronger connection with him.
I'm sorry; I didn't catch that. Could you repeat that?
Andrew didn't reply. I got frustrated and said loudly, "M was trouble?"
"Who's trouble?" Steven said behind me.
I jumped because I hadn't heard him come up behind me. "You scared me!" I said as I whipped around.
"So then I'm trouble?" he said playfully. "Come on; we'll eat and you can tell me what I've done … this time."
"You haven't done anything," I said, following him over to the counter, where he put down the pizza and opened the lid. "Man, does that smell good!" I said as he got me a plate and a slice and handed me a soda. "What kind is it again?"
"Chicken parmesan."
"Kind of a weird combo for pizza," I said, picking up my slice and taking a bite. "Okay, so it's fantastic," I mumbled as the delicious mix of roasted chicken, parmesan cheese, and a hint of garlic played across my taste buds.
"When I came here for the summer holidays, my grandfather always let me order pizza whenever I wanted. It was one of the things I missed when I would go back to Germany," Steven said, taking his own slice. "Now, what is this about someone who is trouble?"
"While you were getting the door I did one last call-out to see if Andrew would answer me. He did."
Steven's piece of pizza paused midway to his mouth. "What did he say?"
I shook my head and scowled. "It was weird. It sounded like 'M was trouble.'"
"Who?"
"M. But clairaudient information isn't always crystal-clear. He could have meant the letter M, the letter N, or even the name Em, like Emma."
Steven scratched his head as he considered the possibilities. "How do we find out for sure?"
I chewed on the bite of pizza I'd just taken before answering. "I think we need to go with the obvious first. I think we need to continue to make contact with Maureen."
"She's the M," Steven said flatly.
"Not necessarily, but if Andrew was saying the letter M, then it fits. Along with the fact that she most likely pushed Gilley down the stairs."
"I am telling you this," Steven insisted. "She must have pushed my grandfather too. Off the roof."
"You can't keep jumping to conclusions here, Steven. And even if she did push him off the roof, we still need to find out what he was doing on the roof in the first place. I think we need to be cautious about—" I was interrupted by a loud clanging noise that made both of us jump.
"It's the elevator," Steven said as he set down his pizza. "Come on; it's going upstairs!"
We raced out of the kitchen and over to the staircase, where we dashed up the steps as fast as we could. Reaching the second floor we were both out of breath, but didn't pause as we ran to the master suite and stood in front of the elevator, waiting out the last tense moments before it inched up to our level. But instead of stopping the elevator passed the second floor and continued to climb. "It's headed to the third floor!" I said, and bolted out of the room with Steven hot on my heels.
Again Steven and I climbed the stairs and dashed down the hallway, unsure where the elevator would stop. "Where does it let out on this floor?" I asked.
Steven looked up and down the hallway. "I don't know," he said. "I've never seen it go past the second floor."
We had no choice but to wait for the creaking to get louder and louder as we listened intently, ready to dash into the room where it stopped. At first I thought the elevator would let out in the guest bedroom where we'd seen the orbs, but a quick peek in that direction showed us there were no doors for it to let out in.
Finally the creaking ceased, and we knew the elevator had come to a stop. It was hard to tell where, though, so Steven said, "The doors must be hidden. You look in that room and I'll look in this one. Scream if you find them."
I ran into the guest bedroom and listened intently, searching the room. I could hear the faintest whirring sound coming across the room from one of the closets. I hurried over to it and opened the door.
Behind the door I found an empty walk-in closet outfitted with elevator doors on the opposite side of the entrance. As I watched, the doors slid open and I felt the temperature plummet. "Steven!" I called as I opened up my radar. "In here!"
I heard Steven's footsteps come pounding toward me, but my attention had shifted to what was sitting on the floor of the boxcar. I stepped forward to retrieve the object, and just as I lifted it Steven was behind me, asking, "What's that?"
"Honey," I said as I twisted the glass jar around in my hands.
"What's it doing in the elevator?"
"That's what I'd like to k
now," I muttered.
"What do your six cents say?" he asked.
"My sixth sense," I corrected. "Hold this," I said, giving him the honey and closing my eyes. In my mind I reached out to the energy and asked it to come forward and talk with me. I had the sense that this energy was female, and in my mind I could picture her clearly. She had brown hair, about shoulder length, ending in a short curl at the bottom. Her eyes were hazel; her nose was long and narrow and matched her chin. I didn't think she was very tall, a few inches shorter than me. Her build was average to a little plump, and she wore a long skirt and a white blouse. I held the vision of her for only a second or two, long enough for me to identify her, and then she was gone.
"It's a woman," I said.
"You can see her?"
I opened my eyes and looked at Steven. "Yes. And she looks very familiar. Hang on," I said, and crossing the room I picked up the photo framed on the nightstand. "It's her," I said.
"You're sure?" he asked.
"Yes. I saw this woman, but older."
"How much older?"
"Twenty or thirty years, but I'm convinced it's her."
From behind us we heard a creaking noise, and Steven and I looked at each other for a beat, then looked to the corner of the room, where the rocking chair was again rocking back and forth. I called out in my mind to the chair, knowing the woman I'd seen was rocking it. Who are you? I asked.
Follow the bees….
"What?" I said aloud as Steven looked at me curiously.
"I didn't say anything," he said, thinking I'd been speaking to him.
Follow the bees….
Again I called out with my mind, Okay, I'll do that, but please tell me who you are and why you don't want to move on. I can help you.
The rocking chair stopped rocking abruptly, and the tiny flying orbs we'd seen earlier appeared again and began whizzing about the chair in little darting motions that looked exactly like a group of bees hovering around a beehive.
"There …" I said, pointing them out to Steven. We watched with our mouths wide while the little orbs seemed to buzz around the chair; then one by one they crossed to the window and out of the pane as if the glass weren't there at all.
"What are those?" Steven whispered.
"Ghost bees," I said as I looked out the pane to see where they went. They buzzed around in the darkness, white dots of relief against the darkness of the night. Steven came up beside me, and we looked on as the little group of them made their way down to ground level and across the lawn.
"Where are they going?" he asked me.
"I don't know, but we're supposed to follow them."
"How do you know?"
"Maureen told me," I said, and pointed to the cluster of orbs as they stopped just before the woods and buzzed in a tight little circle to and fro. "Come on," I said, grabbing his hand and pulling him away from the window. "We've got to follow them."
We ran back down the steps, and I stopped for a moment at the bottom, unsure what path was best to get to the ghost bees in time. "This way," Steven said, and headed off to my left.
We passed through the foyer, where Steven paused to grab the flashlight from the side table I'd set it on, then out through the library and into the yard through a French door. To my relief the ghost bees were still there. The moment we got within ten feet of them they stopped their swirling hovering and one by one made their way into the woods.
"Can you switch on the light?" I whispered to Steven.
He clicked it on and the beam pointed to the ground in front of us. With a sucked-in breath I realized the bees had been hovering above a well-worn path in the woods. "Look," I said, pointing it out to him.
"Come on," he said, moving forward onto the path. "Let's not lose the bees."
Even though the rain had stopped, the sky above was still thick with clouds, and no moon shone through. The air was cool and damp, and I shivered just a little in my light sweater, hoping we weren't in for a long trek through the woods. The ghost bees led us in a winding direction that exactly mirrored the path we were walking on. I followed right behind Steven as he focused the beam of the flashlight on the path while keeping an eye on the orbs just ahead. We walked into what felt like the heart of the woods as the eerie darkness enveloped us.
I could see Steven bristle with every twig snap and rustle of leaves, and once or twice he paused and looked behind us. I wasn't as nervous, but had to admit to myself that I wasn't happy about going so deeply into the woods at night, especially given the cool temperature.
We had walked for a while when one particularly loud twig snap got the best of Steven. He stopped and turned toward me. "Someone is following us," he whispered.
"It's your imagination," I coaxed. "It's spooky out here."
"No, M.J.," he said flatly. "Someone is following us."
I was about to chuckle and try to convince him that he was simply imagining things when I heard the unmistakable sound of what was clearly footsteps not fifteen yards behind us. My eyes widened at the noise, and silently I nodded to Steven. He heard it too and pulled the beam up, flashing it in the direction the noise had come from.
Nothing but woods appeared in the light of the beam. "Who's there?" he demanded as he moved the beam across the area.
There was no reply.
I looked back toward where the ghost bees had been and let out a small gasp.
"What?" he whispered.
"The orbs are gone," I said, pointing behind him.
Steven whirled around, and I watched his shoulders slump as he saw for himself. "Where'd they go?"
"I don't know," I said, squinting into the dark for any hint of the little lights. "Maybe farther down the path?"
"Come on," he said, and pointed the beam down on the ground again. "Maybe we can catch up."
We continued along the path for a way, searching for the orbs in vain. Finally Steven stopped and said, "This is no good. The little things are gone."
"Does it make sense to assume they continued down the path?"
"Not in the dark," he said, and dropped his voice to a whisper. "And not while we're being followed."
I discreetly stole a glance behind me. "You're right. Let's head back and pick this trail up in the morning."
I gave Steven an after you arm motion, and he gave me a playful nudge as he passed me on the path. I giggled as I came off balance a little and stepped backward, and that was when we clearly heard someone run through the brush to our left.
Steven whipped the beam in that direction, and for an instant someone or something gray seemed to dart out of sight. "What the …" he said, and stepped off the path in the direction of whatever it was.
"Hey!" I said as he began to crash through the woods toward it. "Wait up!"
I hurried after him, but he had much longer legs and could leap over foliage with far more ease, not to mention that he had the flashlight, while I was left guessing where to go in the darkness.
One of my guesses, in fact, was way off, because after bounding forward, my left leg was held in check by a branch that sent me tumbling. "Ooomph!" I said as I crashed to the ground, my shin striking a stump that sent shooting pains all the way up to my hip. I grabbed my leg and groaned for a minute or two as my eyes stung with tears. "Shit!" I hissed under my breath as I rubbed my shin.
When the pain had stopped throbbing enough for me to sit up, I looked around and couldn't see Steven or the flashlight's beam anywhere. "Great," I said into the darkness. "Thanks, buddy. Nice job looking out for your partner."
Slowly I got to my feet and took a tentative step forward, igniting fresh pain into my leg. "Son of a…" I said as I bent to clasp my shin again. When it subsided, I stood up, hovering on one leg and feeling in the dark for some support. Close by was a small tree, and I hobbled closer to it and held on, trying to shake off the throbbing pain.
"Come on, M.J.," I said to myself. "You can do this. It's not that bad." My voice shook not so much from the pain as from the realizatio
n that I was alone, in the middle of a strange dark forest, with no way of knowing how to get my injured butt out and back to the house. Plus, what had been a damp, chilly night had now turned into a full-on teeth chatterer. There was no way I'd be warm enough to make it through the night.
"Great," I groused, as I began to shiver in earnest. "This is just great." At that moment a little breeze blew a strand of hair into my eye, and with an impatient wave I brushed it away. The breeze came back and did the exact same thing. Annoyed, I pushed the strand away again, and just then I noticed a tiny little orb of light dancing in front of my eyes.
I blinked twice and said, "Hello. Where'd you come from?"
In answer the orb did a loop-d-loop and swirled a few feet away. I smiled because the movement reminded me of Tinker Bell. The little orb danced back to me, did another loop-d-loop, and whizzed away. "You want me to follow you?" I asked.
The orb moved up and down, mimicking a head nod, then zoomed another few feet away. Slowly I limped after it, and after just a few yards of having my feet slip on roots and foliage, the ground smoothed out underneath my feet. I paused and felt down with my hands. It appeared the orb had led me back to the path.
I smiled and continued to limp forward, careful not to trip again as I followed the orb until I could see the lights from the house. Just as I looked from the house back to the orb it disappeared with the tiniest of popping sounds. "Thanks, Tinkerbelle," I said as I limped out of the woods.
I headed painfully inside and called out as I entered the kitchen, "Steven?"
No one answered. I went into the main hall and tried again: "Steven? Are you here?" Still no answer.
I frowned and limped back to the kitchen, where I set the teakettle on the stove for a cup of tea to warm my bones and pulled a stool up to the sink so I could tend to my shin.
Pulling the leg of my jeans up, I examined the huge welt forming a few inches below my kneecap, and a long, angry scratch on the right side.
I grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and dabbed the scratch with cool water just as the teakettle began to whistle. I carefully hopped off the stool and got a cup and tea bag from the cupboard. As I was pouring the hot water I looked up through the window to see the wild bob of a flashlight beam bouncing up and down through the woods. I could also faintly hear Steven calling my name.