A Good Ghost Story

By Paula Erickson

Tom and Kelly Barrett live a privileged life in their beach cottage along the shores of Lake Michigan, their weekends spent sailing on their sailboat slipped at the local marina. It was a very nice life ... but at what cost, they were beginning to wonder.  Unlike many of their wealthy neighbors, theirs was a privilege not given or inherited, but earned. Kelly is a post-op nurse working at a large metropolitan hospital in Chicago where understaffing and mandatory overtime are more the rule than the exception, and Tom is a minority partner in a demanding computer technology business, working feverishly twelve to thirteen hours a day to ensure the company's success; something his greedy partners have grown to expect. Free time has become a seldom luxury for the Barretts. At thirty-four, they are quite frankly burned out. With both the opportunity and the means, they decide to quit their jobs, cash everything in, and open the bed and breakfast they've always talked about.

After an extensive search, they find the perfect property … an old Victorian mansion overlooking the Atlantic in the charming town of Gull Harbor, Maine.  The house needs some work, the price is right, and the sale ensues.

After months of painstaking and costly renovation, The Sleeping Gull Inn stands polished and poised to greet its first guests. But all is not as it would seem at the charming oceanfront inn. Beneath the beautifully renovated façade lay loathsome secrets waiting to be uncovered.  Length 60,000 words.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paula Erickson
• Release date: Aug 11, 2013
• ISBN: 9781497786905

Paula Erickson

This is Paula Erickson's first novel. She lives with her husband, Jeff, and their two cats, Isabel and Gracie, in Wisconsin, and she is currently working on her second novel. .

Book preview

"An idea, like a ghost, must be spoken to

a little before it will explain itself."

Charles Dickens

CHAPTER ONE

GULL HARBOR, SEPTEMBER 22, 1978

Madeleine finished stocking the shelves and completed the inventory list. She had been working part-time at Brimley’s Food Market after school for nearly six months. The Brimleys had never had a better employee. She was hard-working, courteous and smart as a whip. She had her sights set on Harvard’s premed program after graduation. She was hoping for a scholarship, but in the meantime, she was saving every penny she earned.

Madeleine’s parents, Marie and Pierre Bessette, had emigrated from Perpignan, France less than a year before. Her father had been offered a partnership as a blacksmith for Hawkins Smithing. Mr. Hawkins was getting close to retirement and wanted someone to take over the business, and Pierre came highly recommended as a master craftsman. 

She was scheduled to work until ten o’clock, but with her work done and business being a little slow, Mr. Brimley told her to go ahead and leave a little early if she wanted. At nine o’clock, she headed for home. It was a nice evening, her favorite kind, breezy with a fresh crop of falling leaves, so she decided to walk home. It would give her time to think about her life and her plans. No one in her family had gone to college before. She would be the first. She was going to become a doctor  ... a pediatrician. After she got her degree, she planned on traveling to third world countries to help the sick and dying children. She wanted to do whatever she could to help stop the suffering and make their world a better place. She asked herself, like so many times before, why life was so unfair. She was deep in thought when the car drove up. 

It was three of Madeleine’s classmates, Charles, Steven and Ralph, on their usual Friday night drinking binge, getting drunker than usual on this particular Friday night. They were starting on their third six-pack when they saw Madeline walking alongside the road. She wasn’t far from home when they drove up, radio blasting. She was slender and petite with long dark hair and cornflower blue eyes ... every guy’s dream. She looked in the window to see who was driving. It was that creep Ralph. She could see Steven in the passenger seat; he was okay. And then there was Charles sitting in the back seat. He was actually pretty nice. He smiled apologetically at her.

Hey Frenchie, what’s up Ralph said in his usual sarcastic tone. Madeleine ignored Ralph and kept walking.

Hey, I’m talking to you, he said, getting angry. She didn’t even look at him, but did step up her pace a bit.

Leave her alone Ralph, Charles said.

Yeah Ralph, come on, let’s go, Steven said, trying to distract him.

Ralph stopped the car and got out. He started cajoling her, trying to kiss her, and finally in his drunken stupidity grabbed at her arm, tearing the sleeve of her blouse. Charles and Steven jumped out of the car to try and stop him. They tried to pull him away from Madeleine, but he turned around and pushed them away. Madeleine backed away and saw a knife sitting on the front seat of the car. She quickly grabbed it.  Ralph turned around to face her again and saw the knife in Madeleine’s hand.

Give that to me, Ralph said angrily as he grabbed for the knife. In doing so, his arm slid across the blade of the knife causing a superficial wound. She cut me, he screamed, looking at the trickle of blood from his arm and grabbing for the knife a second time. Charles and Steven tried once again to intervene and a chaotic struggle ensued to gain control of the knife. Push turned to shove and Madeleine ended up face down on the gravel shoulder of the road. They searched in vain for the knife, but it was nowhere to be found. Charles was the first to realize that Madeleine had not moved. He checked warily for a pulse. Finding none, he slowly turned her over to see the handle of the knife protruding from her mid abdomen, his hand now covered with blood. Horrified, he fell back, gagging on the instant vomit in his mouth. They stood staring at her lifeless body for what seemed like a long time ... saying nothing. There was nothing to be said. Madeleine was dead and they were responsible.

We have to go tell the police, Charles said stunned, this was just an accident.

No one’s gonna call a knife in the belly an accident, you dumb shit, Ralph said sarcastically. No one’s gonna believe us.

He’s right Charlie. This looks bad. Really bad, Steven said.

If we go to the police, they’re gonna charge us with murder and we are all going to jail for a very long time, Ralph said. "And for what Charlie ... it really was an accident."

Well, we can’t just leave her here like this, Charles said looking down at her lifeless body on the ground.

You’re right, Ralph said. I’ve gotta get my knife. It’s incriminating.

The Swiss Army knife, which they had been using to open their beer and cut their pizza, was one that Ralph won as first prize in the Gull Harbor Survival Quest when he was only thirteen years old. He had outwitted twenty-three kids, all older and more experienced than him, to win it.  He was very proud of it; he always carried it with him; and all of the townspeople knew about it.

Ralph apprehensively bent down over Madeleine’s body and gingerly attempted to pull the knife out, but it wouldn’t budge. With a more forceful grip and a little tweak, it finally emerged with a grinding pop and a broken tip.

"Shit, the tip broke off," he exclaimed.

They all stood in silence for what seemed like forever ... the silence finally broken by Ralph.

We have to get rid of the body. There’s no other choice. That’s a Survival Quest knife my friends.  The blade is engraved and the last two digits of the year are missing. That broken tip is gonna lead right back to me, he said, pointing at himself, and that my friends will lead right back to you, he said, pointing at the two of them. Charles and Steven looked at each other in silence, trying to digest what had just happened.

We can bury the body in the woods at the outskirts of town Ralph said. I know just the place.

I’m not sure about this, Charles said. I still think we should go to the police. This was just an accident. We didn’t mean for this to happen.

Listen Charlie. There’s a very good chance they’re not gonna believe us and we’ll be charged with murder. Are you willing to spend the rest of your life in jail for what was just an unfortunate accident? Telling the whole friggin world isn’t gonna change anything. Nothing’s gonna bring her back. She’s gone. He paused to look at their reaction. "We’ve gotta do something now. If someone comes along and sees us, it’s all over," Ralph said anxiously.

They all finally agreed, most reluctantly Charles. They lifted Madeleine’s body into the trunk and drove east out of town. They stopped in front of a property that was heavily wooded. It was pitch black. The house was dark. Not a soul in sight.

There’s a tool shed in back. I doubt if it’s locked, Ralph said, getting out of the car to check. It wasn’t. They grabbed some shovels and a flashlight. They carried her body deep into the woods and started digging.

It’s gotta be deep, Ralph said, digging furiously I don’t want some animal digging her up. It took almost two hours to dig her grave. They were exhausted.

Aren’t we at least going to wrap her in something, Charles said remorsefully.

What do you wanna do, go into town and buy a blanket, Ralph said sarcastically. It’s almost midnight. Nothing’s open. Besides, she’s dead. What does it matter? Sometimes he really hated Ralph ... but never more than now. They pushed her body into the grave and started shoveling again.  It was nearly one o’clock when they finished.

Now listen to me. We will never speak of this night again. Do you understand? Not one single word. Got it? Ralph said, pointing at them. They nodded in agreement.  The date was September 22, 1978.

Charles sat down and buried his head in his hands. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to punch Ralph in the face and break his friggin nose. He couldn’t believe what they had just done. They had taken a life ... Madeleine’s life. But to make matters worse, they had covered it up. She had never been anything but nice to Charles. He never told anyone, but he really liked her.

Over the next few weeks, the police investigation of Madeleine’s disappearance produced nothing. No eyewitnesses. No evidence. No leads. They had zip. Madeleine had disappeared without so much as a trace. A massive search was undertaken for her. Nearly the entire town participated. Her body was never found.

The Bessettes were overwhelmed with grief. They refused to have a service for her. They were sure that she would turn up someday soon. Charles couldn’t bear to see them around town. He avoided them like the plague. He was overwhelmed with guilt and grief himself. He knew she was never going to turn up, and he wanted desperately to tell them. He wanted their daughter to have a proper burial. If it weren’t for his father, he would simply have confessed, but his father was a highly respected physician in town. He just couldn’t do that to him.

Charles, Steven and Ralph never spoke of that night again. The Friday night drinking binges ceased. Charles refused to participate. After graduation, they spent one final summer together before they all went off to college. Charles was glad to see them go. Perhaps someday he might want to see Steven again, but if he never saw Ralph again in his life, it would be too soon

CHAPTER TWO

SHOREHAVEN - OCTOBER 2010

The long slender body lay lifeless and desolate on the beach, glistening softly in the early morning sun with the ebb and flow of the tide bathing it endlessly. Kelly stopped jogging to take a look. The eyes are gone, she said without surprise.

Yup, just like all the others, Tom replied, stopping to examine the yardstick long fish. The once vibrant pale green eyes had been replaced by deep jagged gouges still oozing tiny amounts of garnet-colored blood. On the grassy dunes behind them, a flock of seagulls squawked indignantly, waiting impatiently to get back to their savory feast.

Only one today, Kelly said. No wonder they’re grumpy.

Yeah, but it’s a big one ... a muskie. Tom looked back at the gulls. They were moving closer. I think we’d better mosey on down the beach and let em get back to their breakfast before they move into attack mode. 

Just a minute, Kelly said, leaning down to take a closer look at the monster fish. She had heard stories about muskies biting off peoples’ toes as they swam or as they dangled their feet in the water from a dock or a boat. Jaws immediately came to mind. She knelt down in the sand to get a better look. Its broad flat snout gave it a nice wide bite radius, and after a closer inspection of its multiple rows of crazy, needle sharp teeth on the upper jaw, and dagger-like teeth on the lower jaw, she might have to think twice before sticking her feet in the water again. She looked back at the grumpy gulls. They were closing in on her. Okay guys, it’s all yours, she said, racing ahead to catch up with Tom.

A gusty wind blew the last remnants of leaves from the trees, whipping them in huge spirals along the beach, the early morning sun softening the crisp chill in the air.

What a gorgeous day, Kelly said, taking a deep breath.

I agree, Tom said, giving her a sidelong glance. So let’s not waste it. 

Whadaya mean? 

I mean ... I think we should both take the day off and make a long weekend of it.

Kelly stopped jogging to look at him. You mean play hooky? she asked with surprise.

Yup, he said looking at Kelly with a boyish smile.

You’ve got to be kidding. You’re a diehard buddy. You’ve never played hooky a day in your life, and neither have I for that matter. Besides, it would be out of the question for me today. We’re full census at the hospital and we have two people off on post-surg today. I just know this is gonna be the day from hell. She stood for a moment, looking at Tom with concern. What’s going on Tommy?

Nothing’s going on ... really, he replied, giving Kelly’s dimpled chin a nudge. I’m just tired, Kell. I need some time off. I can’t even remember our last day off. I don’t know anyone who works as hard as we do. And what do we get for it? he said, shrugging his shoulders.

A paycheck, she said returning the nudge. 

He shook his head and smiled. Touché. 

It’s getting late. Race you home, she said, sprinting ahead.

They had been jogging the same route each morning, weather permitting, for the past seven years; half-a-mile down the beach to the park, two miles around Lime Quarry Lake, and half-a-mile back to their beach cottage. The jogging kept them in shape and the endorphins kept them energized. At thirty-four, they were the youngest of their neighbors in Shorehaven, and the only year-round residents to speak of, most of the residences being vacation homes or weekend retreats for Chicago’s elite. Located on the southwestern shore of Lake Michigan, Shorehaven was a picturesque little inlet on the lake with sugar sand beaches that stretched as far as the eye could see and one hundred miles or so of pure caribbeanesque blue water, surrounded securely on all three sides by a heavily wooded fringe. It was, hence its name, a haven from the storm, both literally and figuratively as would be the case. For most of the residents, it was an escape, far from the madding crowd, afforded by a life of privilege. But for Tom and Kelly, it was a privilege not given or inherited, but earned. Rich they were not.

Kelly worked as a nurse at a large metropolitan hospital in Chicago on a post-surgical unit where understaffing and mandatory overtime were more the rule than the exception, and Tom had become a partner in a successful but very demanding computer technology business, working feverishly twelve to thirteen hours a day to ensure the company’s success. The money was good, but the hours were long. They were avid sailors, and when they weren’t working, they were sailing on their sailboat slipped at the local marina. All in all, it was a very nice life ... expensive but nice. At what cost though, they were beginning to wonder. Free time had become a seldom luxury for the Barretts. 

Breakfast of champions? Kelly said, grabbing the box of Wheaties. 

Think it’ll help, Tom said smiling as he checked his emails.

Can’t hurt, she said, placing two bowls of cereal on the table and topping them with a generous serving of fresh blueberries. Did you get a look at the teeth on that Muskie this morning? 

Not today, but I’ve seen em before. They’re a nasty bunch, he said with a chuckle. 

I’ll say. I’m gonna have to think twice about dangling my feet off the boat or jumping in the water any time soon.

I wouldn’t spend too much time worrying about it. In spite of its wicked set of choppers, Muskie attacks are extremely rare, and on top of that, Muskie aren’t common in waters this far south.

Thanks for the heads up, but after seeing that set of choppers, aberrant as their presence may be in these waters, I expect to be exercising a certain amount of caution in the future when in and around the water. Tom smiled and shook his head.

Hey, I’ve got a great idea, Kelly said. 

I’m all ears, he said, as he hit the send button for his email message.

How about we go to The Shanty tonight for a fish fry and make plans for a nice long relaxing weekend?

It’s a date, he said smiling with a mouthful of purple Wheaties.

Kelly laughed.  Darlin, if I were you, I’d opt for the extra whitening toothpaste this morning. 

Are my teeth purple? he said, holding up his cereal spoon as a mirror.

Oh yeah, she replied laughing as she got up from the table.

Knowing it was going to be a busy day, Kelly left a few minutes early for work, arriving at the hospital in plenty of time. Two of the nurses were off today on vacation, and a third called in sick for second shift. Kelly offered to work three extra hours to help out and a third shifter offered to come in early, so they had it covered. Four new patients had been admitted to the floor overnight; two of them assigned to Kelly. With her already scheduled patients, Kelly had her work cut out for her. She pulled the charts for her two new patients. Mrs. Pickett, a 67-year-old female, had thirteen separate diagnoses and she was on a combined twenty-three medications. On top of that, she was admitted with a perforated appendix, so infection was undoubtedly going to be a problem. Just caring for Mrs. Pickett alone would be enough to do any nurse in. Her second patient, Mr. Bolton, a 28-year-old policeman, had just come up from surgery. He was admitted through the ER last night with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. There were no complications with the surgery and he was in stable condition at present, but he was going to need close monitoring. 

Kelly completed her schedule for the day and hit the floor running. She was being placed in an almost impossible situation. All she could do was her best. In spite of an overwhelming schedule, Kelly insisted on personally administering all medications to her patients, including IV setups, changes and settings. Postop