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1
More wind, I told myself. The wind got hold of something and blew it right on by.
But the wind wasn’t there. It quit before I saw it.
You know you saw it. You’re not blind, Grant. You’re sharp as a point, mister. How do you think you got to be Editor? What do they say? Eyes like a fucking hawk?
“Just hawk,” I said.
I crept through the trees, keeping my hawk-eyes on the spot I saw the blur. As I reached the creek, I felt some kind of wind brush my back.
I whirled around and saw nothing.
“Anybody there! Who’s playing fucking tricks!”
Backing up, I tripped over a large rock and landed on my ass. Right in the mud. I stood up and tried to get the mud off, but the stain would be there all day.
Then I looked up.
Floating before me, about 10 feet off the ground was a figure. A woman as far as I could tell. She wore a lace white gown that trailed a few feet behind her. It jerked and rippled on her body, if she had one at all. Her deep red hair went down to her butt and flowed outward. Straight as hell and parted in a perfect line in the middle of her head. And since her hair was sort of back, her face was totally revealed.
Her skin was pale and extremely smooth. I don’t think I saw a blemish or scar or pock mark at all. Not that I looked for one. She kind of look Irish, maybe Scottish. Welsh, perhaps, but I’m not an expert. Oddly pretty, though.
But I didn’t see any feet. She bobbed up and down only a few feet away, but always higher up than me.
And she stared at me. Right into me. Right through me. My eyes burned, but I couldn’t turn my head. I wanted to look. Sure I was scared out of my fucking skull, but I couldn’t move.
“Hello…” What do you say to a floating woman?
Her only response was a smile. It wasn’t a smile of a happy response or a Hey great to see you kind of thing. More of a, I’m a psychopath ready to carve your insides out like a pumpkin and bake them at 350 degrees and gobble them down like I haven’t had nothing to eat for a week.
Hers was a wide smile and a gaping one. Her teeth were like bars, interconnected from top gum to bottom gum with no spaces in between. Each tooth came to a point, which probably were used for easy carving.
Great.
She closed her mouth again, then stopped bobbing and I thought this was it. This was my time and there was nothing I could do about it.
But she floated backwards and a few feet later, dissipated.
I delayed, but got my bearings and sprinted away, still clutching my editorial.
Why didn’t I drive my car? Why the hell did I walk out here?
2
I ran hard back to Ilton and I didn’t look back at all.
I ran the scenario in my mind the entire 20 minutes. What did I see back there? A ghost? I didn’t really believe in ghosts, but never counted them out. And if it was a ghost, who’s? That woman’s?
My stomach flipped like a gymnast thinking about what just happened. I couldn’t remember a time I was more scared. The silence, the face, the floating. I could remember sitting in front of the TV watching Dracula or It, but I knew it was just a movie. I would be frightened for those few hours, but then that was it. Sure, I might have a nightmare but in a day or two I’d forget about the movie and be on with my days.
But this really happened.
There was no one in town that would believe me. I’d be that guy the kids called crazy. Hey, Old Crazy Sykes went down by the river, saw a ghost that made him shiver.
I burst through the doors of the Ilton Gazette and tried not to make eye contact as I rushed to the bathroom.
“You okay…” I heard Maggie say.
I turned both faucets on and looked in the mirror.
I was actually sweating a little. Drops of salty sweat hung like little parachuting men on my face. Not from the walk, I bet. Probably from thinking about that thing.
“You’re fine, Grant,” I said to the mirror.
I splashed some water on my face. That helped. Then I cupped some water in my hand and slurped it. My throat was dry and the cool water felt fantastic and it went down.
Tell no one. Maybe tomorrow you won’t even remember anything. A dream, that’s all this was.
I could hope that’s what would happen, but
a dream it wasn’t.
3
Back
at my desk, I tried to call
“I’ll call back later,” I said and hung up.
Maggie was standing in the doorway, quiet
--and floating just like her—
with a worried look on her face.
“You okay, Grant?” There was concern in her voice.
“Yeah. Rough morning.”
“Need to talk about it?”
What?
Talk about the ghost that appeared magically in front of me? Tell her that it hovered and that she had her
own wind? Or tell her about the dead
body that was found and how
“No,” I said. “Just want to get the paper out.”
“Paper’s not as important as you think. If you need to talk, then you should do it. Don’t bottle it up and all that shit.”
I chuckled. “Do I have to pay you by the hour?”
“Ha ha. I’m just saying you look flushed. Rattled.”
Now is the perfect opportunity to admit the morning’s events, but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell her. And trust her.
“I’ll be fine,” I finally said.
“After you finish your stuff, you should go home.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Is that the best I’m going to get?”
I nodded.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll take it.”
She spun around and went back to her
desk. I checked her ass out the entire
way. I feel a little less rattled.
4
My phone rang just as I finished up my editorial.
“Hello?” I marked up the last sentence with the phone hanging from my shoulder.
“Grant. It’s Bobby.”
“Hey. I was trying to get a hold of you earlier.”
“I know. Gina told me. I need you to come down to the station.”
Station. Isn’t that precious. Bobby thinks the basement of the community center is a ‘station’. “What for. I’m kind of busy right now,” I said.
“I want you to identify a couple things and look at the crime scene.”
Strange, I thought. Why would the Police Chief need a lowly old editor to look at a crime scene. “Okay” I said, skeptical, but curious. “I’ll be there in 10.”
He hung up without another word.
On the way out, I told Maggie I’d be at the station for a bit. Joe peered over and said, “Does this have to do with that thing what will sell more ads?”
“That’s the only reason I’m going.”
But I could tell Maggie knew something else was up. I’d have to tell her eventually. Maybe tonight. Dinner at my place. Candles. Silk bedsheets for later. Then after the food and passionate sex, I spill the beans about everything this morning.
Maybe.
After two bouts of sex. I
promise.
5
Gina ushered me into the second room of the ‘station’. Really, the two room were only separated by a corrugated partition that, when open, combined the two rooms into one.
Gina’s side just had her desk and a few waiting chairs that probably never got their full use. The room was spotless and smelled like a pumpkin scented candle. A filing cabinet sat in the corner. Bare and boring. I know they pushed some of the furniture to the side when they needed the basement, like for Community dances, or board meetings, or presentations, but the place could be more lively.
She opened a door section of the partition and pushed me through.
Bobby looked up from a stack of papers. “Grant, thanks for coming.” A little too cordial for me.
“I’m a little curious, that’s all.”
Bobby’s section of the room was just as boring. A desk, another filing cabinet that sat behind him and a wastebasket next to his desk half full of wadded up papers. Behind him on the wall was the pride of his years as Police Chief. A 12 foot long black Diamondback rattlesnack that had been loose in Ilton about 4 years ago. He spent the better part of an afternoon corralling the sucker and another two days mounting it. I sometimes think that he looks at it and reflects on that day as his glory. His shining time. The day everyone looked up to him and realized that this guy was our Police Chief and he’s the best one in the whole state. You got to love small town loyalty and attitudes.
That respect disappeared when a couple of teenagers stole the snake a year ago. They had taken picture and held it for ransom. The kids didn’t want money for it, they just wanted to give ole Police Chief Bobby Hamilton a hard time. It was hilarious.
Bobby stood and took something out of the top drawer of his file cabinet. “Take a look at this,” he said.
He set the plastic bag down.
Inside the bag was a brush. It was about nine inches long, with the handle about four inches. The brush was made from silver. I picked the bag up. On the back of the brush were ivy designs that curled around various type of fruit: grapes, apples, peaches, pears. Each piece of fruit had a small clear gem in the center of it.
“Are those diamonds?” I asked.
“Yeah, ½ carat.”
“And real silver?”
“Yup.”
“Was this found at your number 2 flag?”
Bobby looked surprised. “Yes, but how did you know?”
I guess I had to admit what I did. “I went back to the campsite for some newspaper stuff. I had to walk by the scene.”
“You sure you didn’t make it a point to go there?”
“I’m sure.”
I turned the brush back over. While the silver was in good shape—exquisitely polished—some of the black bristles were broken and bent. Plus, some read hair had been left behind.
“Nasty.” Then, something clicked.
“Did you have the hairs analyzed?”
“Of course,” he said. “It’ll be a few days before I get concrete results, but preliminary findings indicate the hair is from someone who has been dead over 30 years.”
“Is that possible?”
“The hair is still alive, but some of the
cells the guy in
“Can’t be possible.”
“Like I said, it’s not concrete.”
“Think about it, Bobby—“
He shrugged. “That science stuff is not my forte.”
“Is that all you brought me down here for? To look as somebody’s used comb?”
“Used is an understatement. It’s over 100 years old.”
I couldn’t tell for sure, but it did look old. And I swear I could smell a musty, stale water odor coming from the bag.
“Well, lot of people collect antiques,” I said.
“But do they let a $500 piece of history lie about in the mud?” He snatched the bag back and replaced it in the cabinet.
He had a point to the comb, but I was growing tired of sitting here. Was there a point to the visit? I guess I’ll try again. “So is that it?”
“No. There’s something else.” He sat in his chair and sighed. “This is hard for me to ask, but I need your help.”
“Do you now. And what would the Chief of Police have me do?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have brought you down here, but Gina insisted that you were the best one to help.” Aw, hell. I guess my ridicule is over for now.
“What do you need?” I asked.
“I want you to keep your eyes and ears open. You’re loved in this town. You’re a hometown boy. I can admit that the people don’t like me as much and that’s fine. I’m not doing this job to make friends.” He leaned forward. “But you. They trust you. You get information in ways that would make me suspicious if I asked them. People open up to you.”
“I don’t have to do anything illegal or that require me to wear a gun, do I?” A gun would be neat, but I haven’t fired one since I was eleven.
“I’m not making you my deputy, for Christ’s sake. Just listen. Just ask questions. Become that fact-finding journalist you use to be in High School.”
It was a complement and I was utterly shocked. Actually the past 20 minutes had me shocked. Here Bobby was reaching out to me for help. Wait until
--naked Maggie mounting me and thrusting—
she found out.
“All right. But keep me informed of everything,” I requested.
“I will.”
Gina stopped me on the way out. “Are you going to help him?” she asked?
“Yeah,” I said. “Might as well. Don’t have any other story to put in the paper right now.”
She smiled. “I knew you’d come through.”
“Bye.”
I strolled back down to
6
But first, I was hungry. I realized I hadn’t eaten since by bologna and cheese sandwich from last night. Betty’s Grubbies sounded good.
The thin ding announced my arrival and I got a few waves farmers. No ‘Hey, Norm!’ but being known is fun sometimes.
This was your classic diner. Each table had a checkerboard tablecloth and your standard chrome napkin dispenser and salt and pepper shaker. The placemats were paper with a those advertisements of local business that pay $25 per space. Al’s Auto is on there as well as the Ilton Gazette. The place could hold around 125 people, but only 10 were in here now, including myself, Betty, and Kara.
Betty had two waitress and Kara was one of them. She was eighteen and worked a lot of nights during school, but since she had graduated early, this October found her working days too, until her Winter session started at college. Right now, she was filling ketchup bottles and she bent forward to put it back. Her short skirt hiked up and I saw a good portion of the back of her thighs. Smooth, bronze, nice. And if she would lean in a little more, I could probably catch a glimpse of her underwear. She didn’t need to do that and stood straight again and I was disappointed.
“Hey there Perv.” Betty had snuck up on me. She smiled. “Just yourself?”
“Yeah.”
“Stay away from her, she’s pure,” Betty joked.
“No eighteen year old is pure,” I said.
Betty pointed to a seat. “Sit your ass down.” She pulled out her pen and pad. “Whatcha going to have today?”
“Burger and a couple of dills.”
She didn’t write it down. “Patty, two sticks,” I heard her scream to her cook.
The clock on the wall read
I smelled the hamburger cooking when Alan, the auto shop owner who was worried that his ads failed, came through the door. Everyone looked up because he frantically shoved his way through the tables.
“Somebody call an ambulance. Noogan’s having a heart attack,” he yelled.
Kara dashed to the phone on the counter and dialed what I assume was 911.
“Where is he?” I asked, standing up.
“In the street. In the middle of the fucking street,” Alan replied.
How the fuck could he leave him in the middle of the street. I sprinted to the door and glanced up and down the street. I missed him at first, then saw a staggering man slumped against a parallel parked car.
Noogan. And he didn’t look good at all.
I ran to him and knelt by his side.
“Noogan! What’s up old buddy?” I got a hand behind his back and propped him up. “We got an ambulance coming”
He nodded, then coughed. A bloody, gooey blob of phlegm ejected from his mouth and landed on my shoe. He grab a fistful of my shirt and drug me closer.
“She screamed…” he muttered, trailing off.
“Who screamed?”
“Her…”
“Your daughter?”
Noogan shook his head.
“Don’t do too much. Let’s wait for the paramedics.”
“Iiiiit’s tooooo…laaaate.” Each word was forcefully stretched. It hurt him to speak, but he looked like he had to say it. “She screamed my death.”
“Who did, Noogan? Who?”
“Reeeed, haaair…pretty…”
His fist relaxed and the arm fell to the street. His eyes stared into mine for a moment before his head flopped to the side and Noogan was no more.
I checked for a pulse and found none.
I leaned against the car and waited for the
Ambulance to arrive.
7
A screaming woman with red hair.
He couldn’t mean the same one I saw at the creek. The coincidence is too much a coincidence. Maybe he saw a dream and it got to him. Much like a person with a queasy stomach has a hard time with boat rides.
I watched the ambulance speed away. No lights.
Betty put an arm around me.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah. He was really disoriented.”
“It’s the Alzheimers.”
I didn’t know Noogan had Alzheimers. “Did anybody else know?”
“Him. Me. Maybe Miss Molly.”
I curiosity perked. “Why would Miss Molly know?”
She smirked. “Come on. You know about them.”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
“He was probably over there right before he showed up here.” She looked back at the restaurant. “Well, everybody seems to be parading inside. I better get back.”
“Were they close friends?” I asked as she walked away.
“Close enough to share a bed.” She laughed. “I can’t believe you didn’t know. Maybe we ought to replace you as the editor.”
“Maybe we ought to build another restaurant for competition.” She laughed and waved me off.
Well, fuck me. Miss Molly.
8
Miss Molly lived on the Ritzy side of town where the houses are all two story and had fenced in backyards. Whoopdeedoo. The only advantage to living on that side is that you got your mail early because the mailman started there. Miss Molly has lived here all her life. She’s worked as a secretary at the school and when she retired, she got a job as the park coordinator for the summers. I don’t know how many “Shut-Ins” she’s arranged for the town kids.
Her house was white the green shutters. The porch ran the entire front side of the house and on the left was a cellar entrance. Potted flowers sat on the steps and along the path to the sidewalk. I saw some gardening gloves and a pair of shears near a section of flowers. She must have been trimming her landscaping.
I knocked on the door. I waited for a few minutes before I heard a gate slam shut. Soon, Miss Molly came around the corner, shutting off a cordless phone. She was distressed. She held a small tape recorder—an instrument I was familiar with—and I heard it click. She lowered her hands.
“Oh my God,” she murmured.
“Miss Molly?” I called out.
She looked up, startled. “Oh! Hi Grant.”
“Sorry to scare you.”
“I just got off the phone with Betty…”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s crazy. He just left here 10 minutes prior.”
I nodded. “I know. How did he seem when he left?”
“Fine, I think. We had just drank some lemonade and he was
getting tired.” She got lost in a recent
memory. “He stayed the whole morning and
wanted to go home and take a nap before we went to
“What was in
“We were going to see Wicked.”
“Good musical.”
“Yeah.” She sat on the steps.
“Can I ask you a strange question?”
“Sure.”
“How did you two get together? I thought you pressed charges against him for running over your cat.” I asked. I hoped talking about Noogan would prime her up for my ultimate questions.
She laughed. “That’s what brought us together. He came over to apologize after Chief Hamilton released him. I’m an old fashioned gal and was impressed with that. It takes a man to apologize after showing weakness. We talked and voila! We were friends.”
Okay, that made sense. They're old, probably lonely. Why wouldn’t they hit it off?
Now for the big one. “Let me ask you another strange question: right before he left, did you hear anything weird?”
Miss Molly thought for a second. “No. I don’t think so.”
“More specifically, a woman’s scream.”
She thought again, but shook her head. “I’m sure I’d hear that.”
“What did he do right before he left?”
“Well, he went into the cellar and was going to bring a bottle of my wine home to chill.” She pointed to the cellar door.
“Can I go in there?”
“Why do you want to know so much?”
I may as well tell her. “He said that he saw a red-haired woman and that she screamed.”
“He didn’t mentioned anything to me. He left right after he came out.” She stood. “I’m going to finish my flowers. Go ahead, it’s unlocked.”
“Thanks.” I stopped. “What’s with the tape recorder?”
“What--?” She turned her palm out and I saw the silver recorder almost fall from her hand. “Oh this! I almost forgot. I use it to help me remember things…appointments, things I must do, you know that old stuff.”
I nodded. “Yup, I got ya.”
Miss Molly just nodded.
“I’m sorry about Noonan. I know that you guys must have been close.”
“Thanks,” she said. “We were. This is just so…so, I don’t know…”
She started to cry. How do you comfort an old lady? I smiled, that was rude of me to even think. I hope she didn’t see my smiling. Fuck, I should just get out of here before I’m a bigger ass.
“Tragic, Miss Molly.” She gave me a feeble smile. “Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m going to just work in the garden. Keep my mind off of it until I have to.”
“I understand. Is it still okay if I check out the cellar?” I asked.
She just nodded.
“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything and I don’t just mean now. But you know where you can get a hold of me.”
“Yes, thank you Grant. I appreciate that.”
She disappeared around side of the house.
Instead of a handle, there was a frayed rope. The door opened surprisingly easy. A blast of cool air met me as I walked in.
As the door shut, I saw a hanging bulb in the diminishing light. I tugged the string and a low-watt bulb threw soft yellow light about the room.
The cellar was about 20 feet long and thin and the ceiling was a few inches above my head. The walls were cement and I could see a few water spots where leaks had started to occur. A damp odor filled my nostrils, but the cellar was very clean.
On the facing wall were racks and racks of wine bottles. Just one layer deep, but from the floor to the ceiling. I estimated about 300 bottles. They stood straight up so that six bottles could fit vertically. The labels were meticulously turned outward and all the bottles were unopened.
All except one.
I could see the glare at the end of the cellar. As I stepped closer, glass shards sparkled in the light. One of the bottles had broken. Noogan had the dropsies.
Halfway down, I stopped.
The room was usually cold now. Freezing, if I had to guess the temperature. Just like that, room temperature to freezing. I touched the cement blocks. They were fine. It was just the air.
Even closer to the broken bottle, the air was barely tolerable. Who knew I needed a fucking parka to check this cellar out. I reached the glass and knelt down. I picked up the label that wasn’t destroyed. Gallo, 1946. I know jack crap about wine. It was old, so it was probably primo stuff.
I dipped my finger in the spill and dabbed it on my tongue. Wine was wine in my opinion. Strong is the alcohol smell, but weak in the effects. I prefer the harder stuff. The manly stuff. This wine shit was for prisses and old people. But a glass of wine a day keeps the heart disease away. True, but a glass of beer doesn’t make you queer.
“What happened down her Noogan.”
Something scraped the wall and I shot my head up. Nothing.
Then, the hanging light swung bounced the light from wall to wall, brushing the floor with the circle. It arced like that for a few moments, eased into moving like a pendulum. I walked under the light and stopped it myself.
I quickly looked around, but it was just me. Maybe Miss Molly killed him and had her way with him and now she wants you. She’s going to lock you in here, then while you nod off to sleep, she’ll sneak in here and pull your pants down and rape you like a bitch.
--if it was Kara, no problem. Kara can rape—
The cellar door whipped open. Miss Molly stood there.
Fuck, it’s time for the raping.
“Grant?”
I came into the light. “Yeah?”
“I heard something crash. You okay?”
“Fine. Fine. But nothing crashed in here. At least not right now. I found a bottle in the back. Noogan must have dropped it.”
“Oh.” Obviously, she didn’t much care.
“You want me to clean it up?” I offered.
“I’ll get it. I probably won’t drink much wine anymore.”
I understood. Hell, I wouldn’t even want to go in that place. “Thanks for letting me go in there. If you happened to recall any strange sounds, call me, okay?”
“Okay.” It was a half-hearted okay, but I wasn’t going to press her anymore.
I left her as she gazed into the cellar. Get the fuck away from there Miss Molly. The screaming red-headed woman will get you to.
10
Maggie stopped me as I entered the office.
“
Can’t the boy just leave me alone for one hour? “Thanks,” I said. “After I talk to him, I’m going to go home. Can you finish up with the printers? Almost everything’s done.”
“Sure,” she said. “You coming back?”
I trusted her with the printers. She has a great eye for layout and I’ve let her control the reigns on more than one occasion.
“I don’t think so. I’m exhausted today for some reason.”
“Some reason? I think you know the reason. You want to share it with the rest of the class?”
Joe and Pete looked up from what they were working on.
“Noogan died,” I said, hoping that would parlay the vultures.
“That’s it?” I think she knew more, but wanted me to say it. Or, she bluffed.
“That’s it.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
What the fuck? Has she been
hanging out with
I retreated to my office and dialed Bobby.
“Bobby, it’s Grant.”
“Hey. We’ve ID’d the body.”
That’s interesting news. “And…”
“She is local.”
“Okay, then why didn’t we recognize her?”
He paused. “She’s hasn’t been local in over 30 years.”
“She got out of town to escape it’s doldrums. Big deal.”
“No,” Bobby said, his voice shaking, “she’s been dead for over 30 years. She’s Noogan’s grandmother.”
“What?”
“She’s Noogan’s grandmother.” He enunciated each syllable, but I heard him clearly the first time.
“Right. And I’m the Pope with a Vegas show. How the fuck does a body just show up after being dead for 30 years? Wouldn’t the fucking thing be decomposed?
“You would think. Maybe someone was keeping it on ice, or it was kept in a cool place. It’s far-fetched, but possible.”
I shook my head. “But really far-fetched.”
“Just thought you’d like to know. Bye.”
I hung up the phone is disbelief. What the hell was going on here? First this woman, who apparently is Noogan’s grandmother shows up, and then Noogan has a heart attack hours after. He claims to have seen a screaming red-haired woman which describes the same ghostly woman I saw this morning. Only my lady didn’t scream. Somebody’s playing a psychotic trick on us and it’s turned deadly. Sounds like some tagline for movie. He was wronged and now, five years later, a trick to teach them all a lesson turns deadly. Wes Craven could direct and get all the stars of Scream back for one more go.
Something crazy is going on in Ilton. Someone needs to make nice.
But for me, it was time for a nap.