Terror in the Dark: Supernatural Mystery

By DJ Jewett

DARK TALES FOR THE NIGHT - AN OMNIBUS COLLECTION OF HAUNTED THRILLERS!

 

Contains FOUR complete novels:

• Haunted Murder
• Haunted Prey
• Haunted Crypt
• Haunted Shadows

Here's what people are saying:

• "What a ride ... A real page-turner, I couldn't put it down even though I felt like I was being dragged through hell."
• "Love this series ..."
• "Left me wanting more ..."

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This is the first four books of DJ Jewett's Supernatural Mystery/Thriller series, featuring our psychic heroes, Lucius Jackson and Maureen Rennik.  All take place in and around the Witch City of Salem, Massachusetts.

 

From Haunted Murder:

 

"OH MY GOD. THOSE EYES !!"

He peered into the dark and saw two points of light; they were like eyes, and they glared back at him.

He glimpsed at the door – it was locked. To the windows – also locked. HE WAS ALONE !

The eyes blinked - shivers washed through him. He gasped as they blinked again; his hands trembled.

He squinted, trying to perceive a shape; but the shadows were swirling, the eyes were disembodied.

Softly, he approached. One step, then another - the eyes dimmed. One more step, and they receded into the shadows …

GET IT NOW !

• Language: English
• Publisher: DJ Jewett
• Release date: Jan 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393231639

Book preview

Terror in the Dark

A Supernatural Mystery Omnibus!

by

DJ Jewett

Terror in the Dark

A Supernatural Mystery Omnibus!

Copyright © 2017 - 2021 by David Jewett.  All rights reserved

Haunted Murder by DJ Jewett

Copyright © 2017, 2018 by David Jewett.  All rights reserved.

Haunted Prey by DJ Jewett

Copyright © 2018 by David Jewett.  All rights reserved.

Haunted Crypt by DJ Jewett

Copyright © 2018 by David Jewett.  All rights reserved.

Haunted Shadows by DJ Jewett

Copyright © 2019 by David Jewett.  All rights reserved.

All rights reserved.  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the Author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously.

License Notes

If you have acquired this printed copy without a cover, then please know that the author did not receive a royalty payment for this copy, and this is therefore an illegal copy.

If this is an electronic book (ebook, kindle, mobi, .pdf, or any non-printed form), then 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 recipient.  If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy.

ISBN-13:  978-1393231639

Published by:  JTMedia Publishing

http://www.jtmediapublishing.com

https://www.davidjewettauthor.com

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Table of Contents

Haunted Murder

Prologue

June 8, 1925

11:00am

12:01pm

12:10pm - Maureen, At Home

1:15pm

1:50pm - Lucius Mulls Over the Case

2:40pm - Lu and Mo Arrive

6:00pm - Mo, In the Dining Room

6:05pm - Lu, In the Dining Room

7:30pm - Mo, After Dinner

June 9, 1925

3:01am - Mo, in a Dream

5:00am - Lu’s Dream

5:10am

7:20am

7:30am

8:15am - Lucius, Breakfast with the Family

12:45pm - Lu and Mo Tour the Mansion

2:00pm - Mo, in her Bedroom

2:30pm

3:50pm - Mo, with Lucius, on the Trail

6:00pm - Lu Enjoys Dinner

8:30pm - Mo, at the Séance, with Lu

June 10, 1925

12:35am - Mo, Alone

3:00am - Mo Awakens

7:10am - Lucius, in the Parlor

10:30am

11:00am - Lu, in the Tunnel

12:30pm

1:00pm

2:30pm - Lu, Searching for Mo

3:15pm - Lu, Searching

June 14, 1925

1:00pm - Mo, at Home, with Mother

June 19, 1925

3:00pm - Lu Talks With Mo, At the Office

8:00pm - Mo, in the dark, with Lu

9:30pm - Lu, Speeding Away

10:30pm

June 20, 1925

8:50am - Lu Finds an Answer

10:45am - Mo, Lu, and Mrs. Melanson

1:30pm - Mo, Lu, at Elysium

3:00pm - Mo, Lounging on the Porch

6:00pm

8:30pm - Mo, at the Séance

11:30pm - Lucius, in his Bedroom

2:30am - Lu, Asleep

June 21, 1925

9:00am - Lu, Mo, Talk to Isaacs

Epilogue

9:30am - Lu, Mo, at the Funeral

Haunted Prey

Prologue

Monday, October 12, 1925

9:30am - Lu and Mo Receive a Visit From Isaacs

12:30pm - Lu, with Mo, Traveling to Black Cove

1:30pm - Mo, with Lu Arriving in Black Cove

2:15pm - Mo, With Lu at the Scene of the Crime

2:30pm - Mo, with Lu, Arriving in Manchester

4:00pm - Mo, with Lu arriving at the Bed & Breakfast

5:45pm - Mo, with Lu; Dinner At The Ross Home

7:45pm - Mo, with Lu Conducting a Séance

11:00pm - Lu and Mo Return to Mrs. Hughes B&B

Tuesday, October 13, 1925

7:30am - Lu, with Mo at Breakfast

9:15am - Lu and Mo, Driving to Elysium

10:00 - Lu, with Mo, at Elysium Estates

11:50am - Mo Talks with the Feldman Family

1:00pm - Lu, Investigating

2:00pm - Mo, Searching Elysium

7:00pm - Lu Dines, then the Telephone Rings

8:00pm - Lu, Conducting a Séance

7:00pm - Mo, Dinner With the Feldmans

9:30pm - Mo, Searching the Mansion

11:00pm - Lu, Returns to the Bed & Breakfast

Midnight - Mo Sleeps

Wednesday, October 14, 1925

8:00am - Mo, Breakfast with Family

9:00am - Lu, On Shaun’s Trail

11:00am - Mo, Searching Elysium

12:30pm - Lu, Visits Mrs. Melanson

2:30pm - Mo meets with Lu and Isaacs at Elysium

4:30pm - Conversing with the Neighbor

5:45pm - Mo, with Lu and Isaacs Questioning Feldman Family

7:00pm Lucius Calls it a Day

9:00pm

Thursday, October 15, 1925

9:00am - Mo, with Winston and Mildred

7:00am - Lu, Follows His Dream

8:00am - Lu, at Breakfast

5:30pm - Lu, the Witness

6:00pm - Mo, Dinner With Family

6:30pm - Lu Walks to Elysium

7:00pm - Mo, after Dinner

7:30pm - Lu, Walking to Elysium

7:55pm - Mo Awakens

8:00pm - Lu, at Elysium Estates

8:10pm - Mo Follows the Drums

8:15pm - Lu, With Mo in the Heat of the Drums

10:00pm - Lu, with Isaacs

10:30pm - Lu, and the Sleeping

11:30pm - Lu, Bedtime

Friday, October 16, 1925

3:30am - Mo, Dreaming

3:45am - Lu, Awakened in the Night

4:00am - Mo Tries to Escape

4:15am - Lu Arrives at the Fire

4:15am - Fire Closes in on Mo

4:20am - Lu Searches Around the House

4:20am - Mo, Trapped!

4:50am - Mo, with Lu at the Fire

6:00am - Mo, with Lu and Isaacs

Saturday, October 17, 1925

10:00am - Mo, with Lu Searching Elysium Ruins

The Answer that Satisfied ...

The Answer that Disturbed ...

Epilogue

Haunted Crypt

Prologue

October 27, 1925

2:00pm - Maureen and Friends with the Spirit Board

4:00pm - Maureen and Friends go to the Crypt

6:00pm - Still at the Crypt

7:30pm - Maureen and Friends go out to the Speakeasy

October 28, 1925

9:30am - Mo at the Crypt, and they Find ...

10:30am - Maureen at the Winsloe Estate

10:50am - Lucius Arrives at the Crypt

11:15am - Lucius at the Crypt, with the Police

11:30am - Lucius meets the Family at the Crypt

12:00 Noon - Mo & Group Inside the Crypt

1:30pm - Lu & Family at Crypt

4:00pm - Maureen and Lucius Meet With Patriarch Winsloe

5:00pm

7:00pm - Mo and Lu Dine at the Winsloes

10:00pm - Maureen at Bedtime

October 29, 1925

8:00am - Police Wake Up the Winsloes, With Lucius Watching

10:00am - Maureen is Grilled

10:45am - Lucius is Grilled

12:00 Noon - Lu’s Lunch with Mo

8:00pm - Maureen Observes the Séance

11:30pm - Mo Has an Encounter . . .

October 30, 1925

9:00am - Lu and the Inspector Investigate

11:00am - Lu Investigates with Mo and the Inspector

6:00pm - Lu, with Mo. Dinner at the Winsloes

8:00pm - Lu, Observing the Spirit Board

12:00 Midnight - Lu Goes to Bed

October 31, 1925

Friday, 9:00am - Mo Awakens

11:00am - Mo, with Lu Seeking Treasure

8:00pm - Lucius at the Masquerade Party

Maureen . . .

Lucius . . .

11:00pm

11:20pm - Police Arrive - Lu Talks ...

11:45pm - ... and then Maureen Talks

November 1, 1925

10:00am (Saturday) - Mo at Breakfast

2:00pm (Saturday) - Mo Seeks Treasure with Lu

2:30pm - Disaster

3:00pm - Escape

Haunted Shadows

Prologue

June, 1806; Danvers, Massachusetts

Tuesday, January 19, 1926 (120 Years Later)

9:00pm - Lucius, Séance with Maureen

Wednesday, January 20, 1926

12:30pm-Mo, with Lu, Before the Encounter

1:00pm-Mo, with Lu, At the site of the Encounter

4:00pm-Mo, with Lu, In the Attic

6:00pm-Mo, with Lu, Dinner Talk

7:30pm-Mo, Lu, An Encounter

9:30pm-Lu, with Mo, Speculate

Maureen ...

1:00am-Nighttime Activities

Thursday, January 21, 1926

9:30am-Lu, Mo, travel into Mystery

10:00am-Lu, and Mo, Investigating

12:00 Noon-A Surprise Appears

1:00pm-Mo Looks on, as Lu Works

Friday, January 22, 1926

8:30am-Mo, with Lu, traveling into Mystery (2)

9:15am-Mo, Lu, Breakfast Talk

11:00am-Mo Looks on as Lu Works His Magic

1:00pm-Lunch, and More

6:00pm-Lu, with Mo After Dinner

10:00pm-Lu at Bedtime, talk to Family

3:00am-They Emerge

4:00am-Lu, with Mo and Family

Saturday, January 23, 1926

7:00am-Lu, with Mo, on site at the Encounter

9:10am-Lu and the Eclipse

ShadowLand

Maureen, with Willard, the Eclipse (1)

Lucius, with Nathaniel, the Eclipse (1)

Maureen, with Willard, the Eclipse (2)

Lucius, with Nathaniel, the Eclipse (2)

Maureen, with Willard, the Eclipse (3)

Lucius, with Nathaniel, the Eclipse (3)

Maureen, with Willard, in the Eclipse(4)

Lucius, with Nathaniel, in the Eclipse (4)

Agnes and Delmar Worry

It Happens!

Agnes and Delmar, Still Worrying

Maureen’s Story Continues ...

Saturday, January 23, 1926

9:20am-... and then Lu’s Story ...

11:30am – Lu and Mo Return Home

Sunday, January 24, 1926

Epilogue

Glossary

Books by DJ Jewett

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Haunted Murder

ASupernatural Mystery (book 1)

by

DJ Jewett

Cast of Characters

Lucius Jackson 

- Psychic Medium and Hypnotherapist

Maureen Rennik

- Empath, Jackson’s partner on some cases

Detective Isaacs

- Investigator, County Sheriff’s Dept.

Lawrence Feldman

- Banker and Patriarch

Victoria Feldman

- Lawrence’s wife

Kathleen Charles

- Victoria’s sister

Quentin Charles

- Kathleen’s husband – stockbroker

James Feldman

- Lawrence’s son by Lawrence’s first wife

Roxanne Feldman

- James’ wife

Ethan Cantrell 

- Lawrence’s nephew

Winston

- butler

Mildred

- maid

Louise Rennik

- Maureen’s mother

Prologue

NIGHTFALL . . . and the rain descends in torrents.

Lightning slices high across the sky, illuminating vast reaches of the countryside.

And in the illumination, we glimpse a forest, with an ocean beyond.  In the center of the forest, we see an expanse of grass encircling a mansion.  The structure sits in the middle, staunch, stolid, and alone.

Through a window, we can see a dim light reflecting off the glass.  And on the other side of the glass, there are two people.

They are seated at a table across from each other – unperturbed, and protected by the mansion’s walls, away from the violent weather.  Each is peering at, and talking with, the other.

A man is facing the window.  His features are clear – brown combed-back hair with graying temples, puffy eyelids, and with an expression of serious intent.  He’s listening, nodding his head.

Across from him is seated a woman.  She’s looking away from the window, and so her face is unseen.  Her sole discernible features are her curly white hair, slender figure, wrinkled hands, and long, twisted fingernails.

Illuminated by a dim lamp, there are cards dealt upon the table.  These are not ordinary, for each displays a unique set of symbols and pictures.

The cards are arranged in an obscure pattern.  Two cards cross in the center, and with a card on each of four sides, and then four additional cards running vertically to the right of the main ‘spread’.

The man’s eyes shifted between the table and the woman’s face.  Finally coming to rest, he gazed at her with a curious expression.  The woman extended her index finger and pointed to a card.  Then pressing her finger on top of it, she lifted her head and engaged the man, eye-to-eye.

... and this, she murmured, with a clear and melodic voice, is the five-of-cups.  My sense is you have released some destructive patterns from your life.  You will let go of more, as you relinquish control.

But, his voice quivered, I can’t let go – I just can’t.  And then he leaned forward and said, You know, I like control.

Yes, Lawrence.  I am aware of that.  And yet, she paused, looking at him, – yet the cards do not lie.  They say you will move beyond your present life, to a new beginning.

He grimaced.  But how?  How can that happen when I seem to be so powerless?

Well, she replied.  Let us see what the cards have to say ...

She pointed to the next card, and looked up at the man.

The man remained still, staring down at it.  He gasped, caught his breath and then looked into her eyes.  What – what does this mean?

It is the Death card, Lawrence.  But you need not be alarmed, for it’s portending a transition for you – the death of something you no longer need in your life, and a re-birth  ... a birth of something new, something fresh.

But – but ...

... and in this position of the Celtic Cross, she continued, the card is about a change, for you – and it’s coming soon.  So despite your concern, this is merely a transition on the path to your ultimate destination.  She paused and looked into his eyes, then said, "... and we have yet to read that card."

They both grew silent.

Well, she said, still looking into his eyes, shall we continue?

Ye – yes, he replied, his voice quivering.  Please, go on.

LATER THAT EVENING  ...

Lawrence Feldman closed the book and leaned back in his easy chair.  He reached for the snifter next to him and sipped from it, feeling the luscious texture of brandy as it coated his lips and tongue.  He closed his eyes and allowed the liqueur to trickle down his throat, reveling in the flavor of a 50 year old vintage.

Wearing a dinner jacket and slippers, he basked in the quiet solitude of the library.  It was a solitude not just of silence, but also of the visual; for the peacefulness was enhanced by subdued lighting.  There was a lamp next to him, providing illumination for reading; yet there remained large portions of the room obscured by shadow.

He enjoyed this room, especially the earthy brown woodwork that rested easy on his eyes; so easy, that it blended into row-upon-row of walnut bookshelves.  The shelves held a large assortment of rare and not-so-rare books, many of them leather-bound.

A stone fireplace occupied the center of one wall.  With a solid beam mantel made of black walnut, the fireplace was bordered on each side with yet more bookcases.

He glanced at the fire.  Late spring, he thought.  But these chilly evenings near the ocean make a fire all the more pleasant – and necessary.

His head rested on the back of his chair, yet his eyes gleamed as a smirk stretched across his mouth.  Parasites, my family!  This is such a wonderful place to escape from them.

As he raised the snifter to his lips, he sensed a flutter in the corner of his eye.  He turned, and with his eyes narrowing, he focused on the spot – but nothing was there.  His hand shook as chills ran down his spine.

Probably nothing ...

Breathing deeply, slowly, he relaxed and leaned back in the chair.  He lifted the snifter to his mouth and took a sip, relishing the flavor as it covered his lips.

The book was still on his lap.  He glanced down at it, barely noticing the inscription on the cover:  Financial Statements – Salem National Bank.  Picking it up, he arose from the chair, walked to the nearest bookcase, and slid it into an open slot.  As he perused the adjacent titles, he felt a rush of air brush past him – whoosh!

He gasped, and then exhaled, not noticing that his breath was now a visible stream.

Knock, knock!  His focus turned to the door.  He squinted as he peered at it.  That’s when he noticed it was locked.

He approached it, unlocked the latch, and pulled it open; finding his butler standing in the doorway.  Yes?

The servant bowed his head.  I’m so sorry to interrupt you, sir.  But I’ve brought you another bottle of brandy.  Will you be needing anything more tonight?

Lawrence cleared his throat.  No, Winston.  You may retire for the evening.

Thank you, sir.

Lawrence closed the door but stood beside it, listening to the footsteps as they receded down the hallway.  When the sounds vanished, he turned towards his chair.  That’s when he noticed the table to his left – cards still arranged on its surface.

I wonder what the cards really mean, he thought.  She’s never led me astray.  Yet I wish I knew where my life was taking me.

He shrugged, then returned to his chair and sat down, placing the bottle on the adjacent table.  He picked up the snifter and sipped the remaining contents; then he opened the new bottle and poured a refill.

He reached over and chose a cigar from the nearby humidor.  Biting off the tip, he leaned back in his chair and struck a match, then he lit it.  He dragged on it and exhaled smoke into the air.  There’s nothing like a Cuban cigar, he thought.  He held it out in front of him, patiently gazing at it, admiring it as he rolled it between his fingers.

But then he turned his head, and noticed two dimly lit dots in an obscure corner of the room; a far corner, up high near the ceiling.  What the hell, he thought.

He remained in the chair, peering at the dots.  They looked like a pair of eyes – about the same distance apart.

And then they blinked.

Chills ran down his spine.  What to do?

He placed the cigar in the ashtray.  And then he stood up, peering at those two points of light.  They were still there, focused in his direction.

He took a step toward them – and the points dimmed.  A few more steps – close enough he could now discern a shadowy form with eyes.  The form was shrouded entirely in black; a blackness that swallowed the light around it.

His breathing quickened.

He took another step, and the corner became shrouded in mist.  One more, and the mist dissolved into – nothing.  He shivered, not noticing his breath as it streamed from his mouth.  It’s gone, he muttered.  But what was it?

He took a deep breath, exhaled – and his shivering began to recede.  Damn but it’s cold in here.

He returned to his chair and sat down, then reached for his cigar.  But his hand was shaking – he grabbed it with his other hand, then took a deep breath, and then another.

He let go, sensing that he now had control.  That’s when he took the cigar from the ashtray, leaned back, and drew from it.  The draw further diminished his shivering.

Some time passed ...  Five minutes?  Ten minutes?  Who knows? ... But then he heard a knock on the door.

Enter, Lawrence called out in his raspy voice.

He waited, yet nothing happened.  Enter, he barked out again.

Silence.

Lawrence put the cigar in the ashtray.  Then he stood up and moved quickly to the door.  He grasped the doorknob and yanked the door open.  What the hell ...

June 8, 1925

11:00am

IT WAS IN THE SALEM EVENING TIMES that I first read about the murder of Lawrence Feldman.  The report made it sound like a grisly affair – a dead body face down on the floor, soaked in a pool of blood, and with a knife sticking out of his back.  And there was mention of the family – wealthy, it seemed, and grief-stricken.  But the report was otherwise nondescript – no mention of where it happened, nothing said about possible suspects, and only a hint that the Sheriff’s department was investigating.  In short, the report left me somewhat curious, but not exceedingly so.

And then two days later, a certain Detective Isaacs ensconced his massive frame in my door, and blotted out all the daylight that usually streams through that orifice.  To this point in my 43 years of life, I had not met Isaacs, nor had I known of his career, or of his reputation.  And so, upon his obliteration of my light source, I looked up from my desk, where I had been writing a memo, and said, May I help you?  Of course, this simple and polite question easily translates to who are you and what do you want?

The man translated it flawlessly.  I’m Isaacs, he said. Detective Isaacs from the Sheriff’s office, and I’m here to talk about a murder.

I put down my pen and leaned back in my chair.  "Well – ah, Detective – I certainly hope it’s not my murder you want to discuss?"

Of course not!  You’re obviously still alive!

Or so it would seem, Detective.  But what’s on your mind?

"Are you Lucius Jackson?  The Lucius Jackson – the Medium?"

"Guilty as charged.  Now again I ask you – what’s on your mind?

My boss, Sheriff Coleman – he told me to come and talk with you.  He thinks a ghost investigator such as yourself might be able to help.

Hmmm ...  I stroked my chin, and then said, What about you?  Do you think I can help?

Isaacs hesitated, and then replied, Hell.  I don’t believe in your hocus pocus.  So I guess not.

Then why, dear sir, did you come to me?

Because the Sheriff told me to, he said.

I pondered Isaacs’ proposition, and then I said, "Really, Detective.  My expertise is not in murder.  I provide services in hypnosis, and I contact the spirits of people who’ve passed out of this life and on to the next.  I paused to let that sink in, and then I said, So just how does the Sheriff believe I can help?" 

I dunno, he replied.  He just said I should fill you in on what I know and let you take it over – to see what you can find out.

Hmmm ...  I take it that you’re finding this case extraordinarily difficult?

Yes, he said while hanging his head.  We’ve hit a wall.

And you suspect there is a spiritual aspect involved?

Yes.

An apparition?

Huh?

A ghost, my dear sir.  A ghost!

Yes.

And what makes you believe a ghost is involved?

Isaacs sighed.  And then he said, The body was found in the library, face down, with a knife sticking out of his back.

Oh my.  Please – continue.

The door and all the windows were locked, from the inside.

Is that all you have?

No, Isaacs replied.  The people – well, the people living there have been seeing ghosts.

And?

And there’s been noises.

And what, pray tell, are the noises like?

You know – noises.  They told me there was banging, like the wind making the shutters bang.  And like doors slamming ...

And?

And ... that’s all, Isaacs finished.

I gazed into Isaacs eyes, and then I said, No – that’s not all there is.  What else?

What?

What are you leaving out, Detective?

N-n-nothing.  That’s all of it, he replied.

Hmmm ...  I leaned back in my chair and felt deeply into my gut.  Could this be true, I thought.  And then I looked up at Isaacs and said, Tell me about his heart.

Wha-what?

His heart.  There’s something about his heart.

How-how did you know?

Never mind, Detective.  Just tell me.

Well ... they cut out his heart and stuffed it into his left hand, Isaacs admitted.

And what else, Mr. Isaacs?  What else did you find?

No-no-nothing.  We – we didn’t find anything else!

Well, I replied, it’s no wonder.  I guess I will have to travel out there and take a look.

I paused, then said, By the way, where did this happen?

The name of the place is Elysium Estate.  It’s on the coast road up past Beverly Farms.

Beverly Farms?  Oh yes, that’s located between Beverly and Manchester.

That’s correct, Mr. Jackson.

Is there a sign out front?

Yes.

Now, Detective – just one more thing.

What’s that?

My fee.

Yes?  How much is it?

One-hundred dollars a day.

A hundred bucks!  Why, that’s obscene!

I have no doubt.  Yet it is what I must charge for my services.

The Detective hesitated, and then said, Okay.  I’ve been told it’s within the Sheriff’s budget.  So we will pay you that much.  Isaacs eyed me and then said, Anything else?

Yes, we will likely need to stay overnight – maybe even several nights – so we can investigate this notion of ghosts.

That’s already been arranged.

Okay, I need to pick up a colleague.  Can we meet there, at about 3 o’clock this afternoon?

Yes.  I’ll see you there.

12:01pm

C all me Mo, she said .

I remember the first time we met; her red hair, the perpetual crook on the edge of her mouth, and how her fiery eyes looked easily into mine.  But what struck me most was her youthful energy – how she allowed herself the tension and anxiety that was so much a part of her.  She was never ‘relaxed’; yet in an uncanny way, she was always connected with those around her.

I telephoned her from my office.

Maureen?  I said.

I heard a cautious voice at the other end.  "Yes?"

This is Lucius – Lucius Jackson.

"Oh, yes.  I’m so glad to hear from you.  What can I do for you?"

The Sheriff’s office has engaged me for a murder investigation.

"Murder?  Jeepers creepers.  She paused and then said, But – but what can I do?"

I like how you sense people’s feelings, and –

" – it’s a curse," she interrupted.

What – what did you say? I asked.

"It’s a curse.  I’m always in turmoil when I’m around other people – because their feelings come at me so strong, and because they’re scattered all over the place.  The anger, the sadness, the grief, the fear – sometimes they’re too much for me to handle."

I understand, I replied.  I know other empaths have told me the same.

Silence.

Are you there? I said.

"What can I do?"

Well – I’m wondering.

"Yes?"

I’m wondering if – if you can tell when someone is lying?

"Well, yes.  Of course.  But why does that matter?"

Because, I replied, no one knows if this crime is of the spiritual realm, or if it’s a human-perpetrated murder.  It’s up to me, and I hope you, to find out.

"Oh.  You want me to go with you?  Help with the investigation?"

Yes.

"And?"

Well, we would leave as soon as possible and drive out to Beverly Farms.  The investigation is at the Elysium Estates just north of the Farms.

Silence.

So, when will you be ready to travel? I asked.

I heard a giggle, and then she said, "Thirty minutes."

That is eminently acceptable, my dear.  Yet I suggest you pack a change of clothes and some toiletries.

"Why?"  She asked, demurely.

Because, my dear girl, I have a hunch we may need to stay over a night or two.

"Then you best give me an hour," she replied, giggling.

That is also acceptable, I acquiesced.

"Oh, goody, she squealed.  This sounds like so much fun!"

12:10pm - Maureen, At Home

W ell, bees knees, I chortled.  My hand was quivering as I hung up the telephone.  It’s about damn time Lucius brought me in on a case.   I wonder what it’s about?   I wonder what we’ll find!

I looked over at the hunched figure of my mother, seated across the table.  She met my gaze and raised her eyebrows.

Yes?  I said.

Who was that, dear?

It was Lucius Jackson, I replied.

What did he want?

Oh, the Sheriff’s department wants him to look into a murder.  It seems that – ah, it may have something to do with ghosts, or the occult.

Well, she replied.  He certainly has a knack for that.

And he wants me to go too; he likes that I can read people so well.

Really, she nodded.  Well, when will you be leaving?

He’s picking me up in about an hour.

But my dear, is it not too late in the day to go gallivanting around?  Especially with a man?

Oh, Mother!  Lucius is a gentleman, I replied.  And besides, it’s 1925.  We no longer live in the dark ages!

But even in these modern times, my dear, you can’t be too careful; and you have your reputation to think of.

Yes, Mother.  I know.

What time will you be home tonight?

I don’t know.  Lucius told me to pack for an overnight stay.

Mother’s eyes narrowed into slits.  Really child!  You – single – and out all night with a man?  Why – why, that’s scandalous!  No respectable man would want you if they thought you a quiff!

Mother!  How dare you call me that – you know better.

She hesitated.  Then she said, But, just think how this looks.

Oh Mother.  We’ll be staying in separate rooms, at the home of the deceased – the family is still living there.  And, there will be constant supervision, and no opportunity for – um, hanky-panky!

Oh?  She said with a glare.  And do you think your Father would approve?

My patience was wearing thin.  I glared back at her and said, What does Father have to do with it?

My dear.  He’s your Father.  And he always wanted the best for you.  And he wanted you to be protected.

If he wanted me protected, he sure went about it the wrong way!

What’s that supposed to mean?

It means that he’s gone Mother.  He left.  He walked out 15 years ago.  And he doesn’t give a good God damn about us!

You watch your mouth, young lady.

Why?  Do you think he’ll come back and spank me?

He should.  You know how he hates taking the Lord’s name in vain – or have you forgotten?

I remember.

Then see that you do, she replied sharply.

I have to get ready, I spat as I stomped off to my bedroom.

SHE’S ALWAYS BRINGING him up, as though he still exists.  He’s gone, I muttered.  He’s just gone.

I climbed the stairs, feeling sadness welling up in my chest.  I guess I understand how she feels.  I miss him as much as she does.  I sighed ...

By the time I entered my bedroom, I had brushed off our little spat.  I proceeded to run around the room, grabbing clothes from my dresser and closet and laying them on top of the suitcase.  Let’s see, I may need an evening dress, shoes, casual wear, pajamas, ...  I folded them neatly.

I grabbed my cosmetics case and stuffed it with toiletries – hairbrush, toothbrush, tooth cleaner – and I made sure the makeup I needed was inside ...  I’ll just have to manage my hair with brush and comb.

1:15pm

Just when I closed the lid on the case, I heard a car horn blaring outside.  I felt my face flush with excitement as I picked up my bags and bounded down the stairs.

Once in the foyer, I shouted, I’m going, Mother.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Just a minute, dear, she replied.

I heard her shuffling out into the foyer.  She approached me and took me in her arms, hugging me.  I felt the two of us connect, her love flowing into me, through me.  And then she released her hug and stepped back, gazing into my eyes.  I love you my beautiful daughter.  Be careful.

I will, I said, nodding.  I’ll be back soon.

And with that, I picked up my bags and walked out of the house.  Mother closed the door behind me.

I rushed down the walkway and tossed my bags into the back seat.  Then I jumped into the car – I was giggling.

My dear girl, Lucius said, will you please not bounce so much on the seat.

Humpf, I grimaced.  I’m sorry, Lu.  I promise I’ll be more careful.  Then I looked at him and said, So, where are we going?

He glanced over at me with an impatient expression.  I told you on the telephone.  Our destination is up the coast road just past Beverly Farms.

Ooooo. I haven’t been there in a long time.  That’s supposed to be ritzy.

Lucius engaged the gear pedal and manipulated the throttle lever.  Then he grasped the steering wheel, and we began to move away from the curb.

He twisted the car from side to side, trying to avoid the ruts and the potholes; yet we were still bouncing up and down as we traveled this dirt ‘road’.

As we drove, he glanced at me with a creased forehead, said, My dear Mo, I do not believe you’ve ever been outside of Salem, at least until now.

I have too, I replied, sniffing at him.  I grew up in Ipswich.

We crossed over a bridge on our way into Beverly.

Ciggy?  I offered, holding out a pack.

You know I only smoke a pipe.

Oh, I said, forlornly.  Well, I guess I’ll have one, I could feel my mood lighten as I drew a cigarette and put it in my ‘casual’ four-inch cigarette holder.  I placed it between my lips, then flicked my lighter – voilà, the cigarette was lit.

I leaned back and drew deeply on it, then exhaled smoke into the air.  I grinned and said, Oh Lu, this feels so good!

I drew yet again from my cigarette, feeling even happier than before.  "You must tell me all about this case – it sounds like so much fun, I squealed.  Do you think a ghost did it?  Huh?  Huh?"

Fun?  He replied.  You think murder is fun?

I fluttered my eyelashes and smiled.  Then I said, Well, it’s fun for everyone except the corpse, isn’t it?  And hell – I’m sure the corpse doesn’t care – at least, not anymore.

Lucius glared at me and said, I’ll be sure to conjure as much sympathy for you when you die.

"Oh, Lucius!  Please don’t get me wrong.  I do care, but are we not to make jokes about the dead?"

Humpf!

I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs.  Then focusing my attention on Lucius, I said, So, tell me all about it!

Lucius took a deep breath and began to speak ...

... and I listened, intently, in wonderment and curiosity, as he told me all he knew – or at least all that he said that he knew.

He finally ended the story with, ... now remember, Mo.  We must go in with an open mind.  We must observe – to see things as they really are, rather than what we want to see.  Because we really have no way of knowing who did it, or how the crime was committed.

Okay, I said.  And then a deeper curiosity took hold.  But why would they cut out his heart?  What would anyone use it for?  And – and, what does it mean?

Lucius turned away from his driving and gave me a knowing look.  I don’t know.  I only know that we need to catch the killer, whoever it is!

1:50pm - Lucius Mulls Over the Case

Mo gave me ideas; particularly what it might mean to remove the victim’s heart.  Satanism?   Witchcraft?   I’ve heard of cases like this, and I’ve seen a few.   They never seem to turn out well – at least, for the living.

I pondered as I drove.  Who – or what – did this?  And why?  Was it terror?  Or evil?

Hmmm ...

Using the main connector bridge, we had crossed over from Salem to Beverly and were now leaving the cobblestone streets of Beverly proper.  Anyone who has driven on cobblestone, especially with trolley tracks running down the center, knows the jaw-shattering vibrations this causes.  It was no different for us.

As we drove, the tracks conspired to pull the car into the middle of the street.  Yet I fought back; even as I struggled to retain my focus, because the incessant vibration of cobblestone on hard rubber tire was wearing on us both.

We soon found relief when we turned on to a well-used gravel road.  It was a connector road called Hale Street, leading from downtown Beverly out toward the coast road.  Like many streets around this area, the road was amply populated with old homes, some of them erected in the 17th and 18th centuries.

We were driving by a row of such homes when Mo said, What about this ‘Hale’ Street?

What about it? I replied.

I heard it was named after a minister.  Do you know much about that?

Why do you want to know? I asked.

I dunno.  I guess I’m curious.

I turned my head and looked at her, said, I’m really not well informed on this.

Oh bull.  You always know more than you let on.  C’mon – tell me.

I sighed.

Well, I began, the street was named after a Minister John Hale.  He was a Puritan, I think – and quite involved in the Salem Witch Trials.  I don’t know much else, except his wife was accused of being a witch.

Oh, my, Mo exclaimed.  How did he handle that?

That? I said, feeling a frown on my face.  Well he, ah ... if I remember my reading, the Governor stopped the trials about that time.  Just prior to her arrest.

Lucky for her, Mo said, and then giggled.

A pregnant pause ensued, then Mo crinkled her nose.  What was her name?

Sarah, I think.  Yes – I do believe her name was Sarah.

Pretty name, Sarah, Mo replied.

She remained silent, again drawing on her cigarette.  And then said, They used to hang the ‘Witches’, didn’t they?

What?  Why would you bring that up? I asked.

Oh, I don’t know.  I guess it’s just the ghoul in me.

Ghoul is right, I replied.  That’s a dark place for anyone to go.

Mo snickered, said, Well?  Aren’t we in the ‘Dark’ business?

I didn’t answer.  I was feeling queasy in my stomach, and I wanted to see if the conversation would lighten up.

Mo drew on her cigarette and exhaled into the air, then said, Well?

Well what? I replied.

Didn’t they used to hang the witches?

I sighed and said, I think so.

Isn’t hanging a quick way to die?

When it’s done the right way – yes.

And what if they do it wrong?

Then the poor fellow is left hanging at the end of the rope, choking to death.  It takes some minutes to die when that happens.

Yuck, Mo gulped.  And then she said, So what’s the right way?

When the rope is put around the subject’s neck, the noose is positioned to the side of the head.  So when it snaps tight, it dislodges the skull from the neck, severing most of the nerves and arteries.  I paused and looked knowingly at her.  It’s quite efficient.

Wow.  Lucky for Sarah.

Yes, indeed, I replied.  I think she was Hale’s last wife, and she lived for some years after.

Mo drew again from her cigarette, said, I’ll bet she was a pretty corpse.

I couldn’t think of anything to say.  My stomach was feeling even more queasy.

WE CONTINUED ON Hale Street until we encountered a cemetery off to our left.  It was here that we finally merged onto the coast road.

The gravel roadbed was dense with potholes and ridges; and the Model T found the jagged terrain to be a challenge, far surpassing the downtown streets of Beverly or Salem.  Yet somehow, we were able to negotiate the winding, forest-lined road for some 5 miles – sometimes catching a glimpse of the Atlantic ocean to our right – until we finally entered Beverly Farms.  We did not stop, preferring instead to pass directly through the village.

We soon emerged from the north side of the Farms and found ourselves driving past expansive estates.  The homes were obscured by the forest, and tucked well back into the woods.

Maureen chattered incessantly, pointing out various landmarks and formations along the way.  I noticed that whenever she sighted the ocean, her chatter increased.  I stopped listening.

Within a few miles, Mo thankfully caught sight of a sign – Elysium Estates.  The sign was standing well off from the right side of the road.

Lucius, she shouted while pointing at the sign.  There it is!

2:40pm - Lu and Mo Arrive

Imade a right turn into a side road.  It was narrow, twisting, lined with trees and shrubbery overgrowth that encroached onto the driveway.  I quickly found myself navigating a shadowed path.  At first there was a thin layer of fog along the road; but the depth of the fog increased, and the road ahead began to merge into the vapor.

The aroma of oak and maple wafted across my nostrils, even as I watched the sparrows and crows scatter at our passing; and the clear blue sky that guided our journey was now fading into gray, leaving an overcast sky shrouded by a dense myriad of branches.

As we proceeded along the driveway, I began to feel an oppressive weight pushing against my mind, my soul.  This feels like spiritual intrusion, I thought.  I shall keep my defenses at ready, lest the evil in this place overwhelm me.  I glanced over to Mo, said, Can you feel them?

Ye – yes, she replied, her voice quivering.

You’ll have to keep your defenses up, I said.  Can you do that?

I think so, she whispered.  Then she glanced toward me and nodded.  Yes, she said, her voice now had a determined quality.

We followed the road for some minutes before merging into a circular driveway with a large home beyond it.  I pulled the car up to the front and parked parallel to the curb, behind another automobile.  I noted clear indications that the other was from the Sheriff’s office – probably Detective Isaac’s.

We stepped out of the car and into a thick mist that floated along the ground.

I stood unencumbered, gazing at the home.  It was painted yellow with white trim; and it was constructed in two wings, joined in the shape of an ‘L’.

I found myself looking up at a decidedly unusual facade.  At first glance, it had a conventional appearance, but I sensed some of the angles were strange – overly sharp, yet misaligned – as though an otherworldly being were toying with us, laughing at us, using us for his own entertainment.

Creepy, I heard Mo say, as she echoed my own thoughts.

I looked at her, said, Yes, indeed.

I turned my gaze back to the house, noting the roof line at the gable end.  It had a steep pitch, and faced out from each of the two wings.  My gaze then shifted to the middle of the left wing, where a multi-story tower was attached; no doubt, to provide an interior space with one or more circular rooms.

I opened my feelings to the house, allowing a connection with the underlying energies woven throughout the property.  I felt a vile presence – evil – and I began to shiver as my attention was drawn to the home’s facade.

The varying roof lines, dormers, and oval tower – all felt hideous.  The house just looked weird – as though each angle was in conflict with every other angle.  And I don’t think it’s my imagination!

I glanced over at Mo and nodded my head toward the house.  Shall we go in?

We followed the walkway up to the front entrance, stepping up to a covered landing and then to the recessed double doors.  Three times I slammed the brass knocker against the door – bang, bang, bang!

I glanced over at Mo.  She was shivering.  Are you well?  I asked.

Yes – yes, she said between shaking lips.  It’s just cold here.

I nodded. I know.  I feel it too.  I glanced up to the ceiling of the porch and then said, It’s quite amazing to be this cold on a warm day in June.  The sun was shining when we departed your house.  But now, the sky is quite overcast.

She leaned over toward me.  In a quivering voice, she whispered, There’s something evil here.  Very evil!

Still waiting, I turned and surveyed the view from the entrance.  That’s when I spied a cat on the other side of the drive – it was black, solid black.  It just sat and watched us.

Is that – Whiskers? I thought.

I shouted, Whiskers?  Is that you?

I walked away from the door and toward the porch’s edge.  Whiskers? I said.  Come here, Whiskers.

I stepped off the porch and walked toward the cat.  The cat looked directly into my eyes.  He remained still, and then I heard meow.

I moved closer.  Whiskers?  Is that you?

The cat stared at me.  Another meow, then he turned and ran toward the forest, fading into the underbrush.

I came to a stop and watched,  waiting to see if the cat would reappear.

Shades of my past, I muttered.

I thought back to my childhood.  I was about ten, and my cat – Whiskers – was part of our family.  He was my closest friend, and our connection was so deep, so intimate, that I sometimes believed he was human.

I still remember when he passed.  And afterward, how he came to me from the spirit world; and most important, how inspiring his message was to me.

But then I thought about my mother.  How she chided me and said there were no ghosts.  It was just my imagination, she said; and I should buckle down and do my school work and my chores.

I heard motion behind me; the door opening.  And then a deep voice said, Greetings.

I turned to face the entrance, finding a tall man framed in the door, wearing a tuxedo suit.  He looked at me with dark, penetrating eyes.  Then he stepped forward and said, Greetings.  I am Winston the butler.  May I help you?

I walked toward the entrance.  Yes, I replied.  I’m Lucius Jackson, and this is Miss Maureen Rennik.  We were requested here by Detective Isaacs.

Winston stepped back and opened the door wider.  You are both expected.  Please enter.

As we stepped through the door, Mo said, Are you all right?  Everything okay?

Just fine, I replied.  Now was not the time to tell her my life story.

We stepped into the home and found ourselves in a large foyer with a cathedral ceiling, and with doorways leading off to the left, right, and straight ahead.

I found myself distracted by the foyer’s appointments.  A white marble floor, with walls papered in a lavender floral design, traveling up to a ceiling that was too high to discern its engraved pattern, and bordered by an exquisite crown moulding in a natural wood tone.

A woman entered – or rather, she made an entrance – through the center doorway, carrying herself in a manner accustomed to fine living.  She waved and said, Greetings.  Welcome to my home.

She approached us and held out her hand; I accepted and kissed it.  I’m Victoria – Victoria Feldman, she said.  And you must be Lucius Jackson?

That is correct, Madam.  And this is my associate, Miss Maureen Rennik. Mo stepped forward with her hand extended.

I stood back, my eyes meeting hers.  I couldn’t help but notice her youthful face, with shimmering white hair and slender figure.  But her smile seemed forced; and she felt sad to me, as though belying her cheerful appearance.

She held the palms of her hands together.  Welcome to you both, she said.  And then she motioned us to follow her as she continued, Detective Isaacs is waiting in the parlor.  Please follow me.

As we walked behind her, I couldn’t help but notice how she glided along the floor.  Mo and I followed as she stepped down into the parlor, a nicely appointed room with a tall ceiling and a fireplace adorning the wall to the right.  I glanced up, again noting a white, engraved ceiling with crown moulding carved from black walnut.  The walls were papered in yet another flowering print, and were combined with a hardwood floor and Victorian-style furniture.  The room was large, containing three sofas and several easy chairs, no doubt designed especially for entertaining large gatherings.

Please be seated, she said as she gestured to a sofa.  She turned to the butler.  Winston, will you please fetch refreshments for our guests?

Winston bowed his head and said, Immediately, My Lady.  He rushed off.

I nodded to Isaacs as I sat down.

Well, Isaacs responded.  You finally made it.

Yes we did, I replied.  Detective, this is my associate, Miss Maureen Rennik.

Hi, Mo said, waving.  I’m so excited to meet you!

I looked at Victoria and continued, You’ll pardon me, Mrs. Feldman, but I’d like to get right down to business.

That would be fine, she replied, biting her lip.  What is your first question?

I paused, thinking about what I wanted.  Then I said, Can you tell me what’s been going on here?  I’ve heard rumors of ghosts and hauntings hereabouts.

Well certainly, Mr. Jackson.  She paused and then continued.  My husband and I moved into this home about two months ago.  Of course it was originally built as a summer home, but my husband loved it here so much that we decided to live here most of the year.  Anyway, it was shortly after we took up residence that we would hear noises at night; and most seemed to come from outside the house.  Nothing loud or serious, mind you; and we found it to be only a minor annoyance.

It was last week when we had family in for a visit; a house warming of sorts.  And –

– excuse me, I interrupted.  But who came to visit, and who is still here.

Oh, she replied, there’s Quentin and Kathleen, my sister; and then there’s James and Roxanne – James is my husband’s son; and then there’s Ethan – he’s my husband’s nephew.  She paused and then continued, You will of course meet them all.

Thank you, Mrs. Feldman, I replied.  Will you please continue?

Certainly, she said.  Let’s see, I was telling you about the noises ...  Oh yes!  Well, about two nights before Lawrence died, I had to get out of bed to – ah, refresh myself.  When I went into the bathroom and closed the door, I looked in the mirror and what I saw looking back at me – good gracious, Mr. Jackson – it was a skull looking back at me, wearing a hooded cape!  She paused, shivering, and then she blurted out, It was the most horrible sight I ever did see, Mr. Jackson!

I watched her as she shivered, waiting until she shook off her fear.  Then I leaned forward and said, Was it the Grim Reaper?

Oh, I don’t know, she said, her voice quivering.  I just know it scared me.

Please continue, I coaxed her.

She met my eyes and said, Well that’s all I saw; although some of the other guests have complained of far worse!

Such as? I asked.

Well, I think you should talk with them, she replied.  But I will say this, Mr. Jackson.  There’s been some distressing, if not frightening, things going on in this house.

Are things still happening, Mrs. Feldman?

Nnn – no, she said, shaking her head.  Not since my husband was killed, may God rest his soul.  Still shivering, she bowed her head and hurriedly signed a cross with her hand.

I paused, and then I gently asked her, Who found your husband’s body?

Her eyes met mine.  And then her brow furrowed as she said, Well, there were three of us who found him.  Jimmy came and woke me up.  He told me that he and Ethan heard a scream from the library; and when they tried to enter, they found it was locked.  So he asked for the key; and I decided to come and see what happened.  So, I ran down to the library with Jimmy and unlocked the door.  The three of us entered at the same time, and we found Lawrence face down on the floor in a pool of blood.  Ethan checked his pulse, but there was none.  She looked away from me as tears welled up in her eyes.  He – he was gone.

I waited until her sobbing subsided, and then I said, Mrs. Feldman, with all of the hauntings – and now your husband’s death – why are you still living here?

Victoria just looked at me, and again broke out crying.

After her sobs subsided, I asked, Can you show us the library?  Especially, where your husband was found?

She blew her nose into a handkerchief and then said, Certainly, Mr. Jackson.  Please follow me.

The three of us – me, Isaacs, and Mo – walked behind her into the foyer, and then followed her for some small distance through the rotunda.  It’s cold in here, Maureen said with a quivering voice.

We reached the other side of the rotunda and turned left into the library.  Upon entry, Mrs. Feldman halted and held out her hand in a presentment.  This is the library.  We found him over there, near the fireplace, she said as she pointed toward the far wall.

I stood in the doorway and surveyed the room, noting the book-lined walls.  To the right, there was a fireplace.  Next to the fireplace, there stood an overstuffed chair upholstered in a dark brown leather, and with an intricately carved side table next to it.  Directly in front of us faced an ornate desk with an elegant writing surface; the edges of the surface were adorned in leather.  A duplicate of the first easy chair was situated next to the desk.  The desk and the chair were positioned on top of a plush rug with an oriental pattern.  The floor around the perimeter of the rug was finished oak.

Isaacs came up behind me, and shouted, You cleaned it!

Victoria stepped back and blinked, looking at Isaacs.  Wha – wha – why, is that a problem, Detective?

You’ve just destroyed the crime scene, Isaacs glared at her.

Well, she replied in a haughty voice, I’m truly sorry!

You should be, Isaacs replied.  Destroying or tampering with evidence, obstruction of justice – these are felonies, Mrs. Feldman.  And I can take you to jail right now!

I interjected. Excuse me, Detective, but don’t you have procedures to protect a crime scene?

Isaacs glared at me, but then his face softened a bit.  You’re correct, Mr. Jackson.  In fact, I had asked Mrs. Feldman to not disturb the crime scene.

But you said nothing of the kind, Victoria asserted.

Well, I guess I didn’t make myself clear.

Or maybe I was just too distraught to know what I was hearing?

Yes, Mrs. Feldman, Isaacs nodded.  I’m sorry.

Well, I interjected again, what do we have here?  I stepped over to where the body had been found, and began my examination of the area.  I noted the flowering print on the walls, the stone fireplace, and the red oak flooring.  The stone still held spot traces of blood, and the floor was slightly discolored where the blood had pooled – I imagined the pool was near black before the cleaning.

Hmmm ... , I said.  And then I looked over to Mrs. Feldman.  Can you briefly describe what you found?

Well, his body was face down – there, she said, pointing to the floor, just left of the fireplace.  His head was closest to the wall, with his left arm held up almost over his head, like so, she demonstrated the arm’s position.

And?

And – and, his heart, she said, her voice was beginning to quiver.  His heart!  He – he was holding it in his hand, she wailed.

I waited until she regained her composure, and then I said, Is there anything else about the scene that you remember?

Well, yes, she replied.  His other hand – it was missing – cut off, I think.

I looked at Isaacs and said, Do you have more information on this, detective?

Not much.  Just that his hand was severed after he died.

And, you know this by?

There was hardly any blood from the wound.

Thank you, Detective, I replied.  And then I turned back to Mrs. Feldman and said, Is there anything else about the scene that you remember?

No, Mr. Jackson, nothing.  But then, I was in no state to pay attention, she said, smiling through red swollen eyes.

What about the knife?  I looked at Isaacs.

The knife, Isaacs replied with a grimace, is unusual.  A centuries-old antique, I’m told.  And no one living here seems to know anything about it.

Do you have it with you?

No.  We brought it back to the lab for analysis.

How about photos.  Do you have any of those?

No – those are also kept at the Station.  I can bring both items out next time I come.

And when will that be? I asked.

Isaacs hesitated.  Then he said, Why do you want to see those?  Shouldn’t you be tracking ghosts instead?

Well, Detective.  It’s because Miss Rennik and I need to better understand the circumstances of Mr. Feldman’s demise.  I paused, then said, So I ask again, when will you bring those items out for our examination?

Maybe tomorrow, Isaacs replied.  Or maybe the day after.  I’ll do it as soon as I can."

I stared into Isaacs eyes.  Then I said, What else did you find in here?

Well, of course besides the usual items that a room like this might have, we found a half-burned cigar in that ashtray, he said while pointing.  We also found two bottles of brandy and a snifter.  One bottle was empty and the other was recently opened.  The snifter was half-full.

With brandy? I asked.

Yes.

I paused, then said, Do you have anything else to add to Mrs. Feldman’s narrative, Detective?

No, Mr. Jackson.  That’s why we called you.

With that, Isaacs produced a watch from his vest pocket.  He glanced at it and said, It’s time I must be leaving.  He tipped his hat. Until we meet again.

I watched as Isaacs walked out of the room, and then I turned my attention to the scene at hand.

I did a cursory scan of the book titles – Banking, Finance, and various classics such as Poe, Wells, and Verne.  I scanned yet another shelf, and then I found something interesting.

Mrs. Feldman, I called out.  Will you please come over here?  I have some questions.

Victoria quickly came up behind me, and said, Yes, Mr. Jackson?

These books here – Malleus Maleficarum; or these others on Satan and the supernatural – do you know if these are your husband’s?