A Dead...er Shade of Pale
October 19
“You know,” Trixie said thoughtfully as she reached for her water bottle, “I think we’re really improving at this. I’ll bet we could actually finish early today.”
Mart nodded his agreement. “Probably also, things are starting to settle down a bit. We had that initial run, but now I think maybe at least some of them are willing to wait for a day when things are less hectic. Like going on a vacation during an off-peak month.”
They both turned toward Dan as he gave an audible groan. He picked up the megaphone he’d borrowed from Di and stood. “People! Another coupla announcements! We do not know and therefore cannot answer or explain any of the following. What happened to Jimmy Hoffa? Is Bigfoot real? The identity of Jack the Ripper. Life on other planets, or aliens here on Earth. Was it the lone gunman or some guy on a grassy knoll? Anything about Stonehenge. Also? Even if we could get you a date with your favorite Playboy centerfold? You’re dead and it’s not happening. Now, would any of you happen to be a psychologist or psychiatrist of some kind?”
A middle-aged man with a receding hairline and long locks pulled back with a leather tie stepped forward. He was dressed in a shocking orange polyester suit and heeled boots that added several inches to his otherwise below average height. Trixie bit down on her lip to keep from laughing out loud as he held up one hand and spoke. “I’m Dr. Daetwyler. Clinical psychology.”
“Awesome. Get over here, Doc. This is Randy. He’d like to speak with you. Anyone else with mommy or daddy issues? Yeah? You can form a new line here and the doctor will see you shortly.”
******
“Sir! Please. I believe you,” Trixie said solemnly. “I do. I’m just not exactly sure what you want me to say or do about it.”
“I want my due recognition! My partner and I got our patent before James Wright, but he never admitted it! He got all the credit and no one even knows my name.”
Deciding not to point out that probably ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the population didn’t know who James Wright was either, Trixie leaned over and grabbed the megaphone. Rising from her stool, she crossed to the front of the porch. “Hello? Everyone? This is Earl Warrick. He invented Silly Putty.”
To a scattering of cheers and applause, Earl bowed and disappeared.
******
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Mart said. “I’m sure your apple butter was always better than Mabel Tollingsworth’s. You’re probably right. I’ll bet the judging at the fair was rigged.”
******
“Mister? You know I’m only sixteen, right? Why would I know enough about wine to tell you which is the best to serve with a baked cod?” Trixie waved one hand toward the remaining spirits waiting in line. “Why don’t you ask around? I’m sure someone here knows.”
******
“So it was just after midnight when you died?” Dan asked. “Definitely not still before.”
The very elderly man across from him bobbed his head. “That’s right,” he replied in a raspy voice. “I heard the grandfather clock chime.”
“And it was your birthday.”
“Yes. I was one hundred years old.”
“Congratulations.”
“I didn’t even get to have my cake,” the man said glumly. “It was such a lovely cake. My great niece baked it for me.”
“Ah. Right. Okay. I can’t really fix the cake issue for you, but come here.” Using the megaphone again, Dan called for attention. “People. Listen up! I want to introduce you to Harry Clark. He died on his 100th birthday before he got the chance to celebrate. So… let’s just take a moment and sing him a round of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Ready?”
******
“Crap,” Trixie muttered. “Uh… hang on. No! Please. Please, stop talking. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Stop! You don’t speak English? No? None at all? You have no idea what I’m saying to you right now. Fabulous.” She fished her phone from her pocket and tapped a few keys. “Voice translation to English,” she said after a moment. Her phone beeped and she held it out. “Okay. Now talk.”
The dark haired man spoke rapidly and urgently, his words a meaningless garble to her. She waited for her phone to decipher his message and then looked down at the screen.
“Wait. That can’t be right.” She shook her head and tapped the screen again. “One more time,” she instructed.
“De onwettige knaagdier stal mijn muziek cassettespeler.”
Frowning, Trixie read the translation again. “Okay. I give. Mart?”
Her brother turned to look over at her. “Yeah?”
“Google Translates is telling me the illegitimate rodent stole his cassette deck. Any clues?”
Mart’s brows rose and he smiled faintly. “He probably said some version of ‘rat bastard,’ Sis,” he explained with a chuckle.
“Oh. Oh, yeah! Ha! Uh… Voice translation to Dutch… Sorry. That sucks. But you’re dead now. And really, so are cassettes. So, you can move on and let the rat bastard suffer with his stolen, outdated technology. Have a safe journey and a wonderful afterlife.”
The man read the translation and gave her a thoroughly baffled look. She wondered how badly the software had butchered her words. “Uh… bye? Good-bye? Go?” She offered him an encouraging smile and a finger wave. “Shoo?”
With a somewhat sorrowful sigh, he was gone.
******
“Bacciferous.”
“Berry shaped, or something that has berries,” Mart said. “Pachycephalic.”
The old man slapped his thigh. “Easy! Has a thick skull. Magniloquent.”
“Using particularly grandiose or bombastic language. See also, Ed Grandy.”
“Ha. Touché, my boy,” Ed said with a laugh.
Mart flashed a quick grin at him. “Toddick.”
“Ah… a tiny quantity. Facinorous.”
“Vile or depraved. Threpterophilia.”
Ed opened his mouth and shut again. His brow furrowed and he slowly shook his head. “This is a real word?”
“Yes. That was the rule, right? Only real words. Threpterophilia.”
“Hmmm. Let me think. Let me think. The ‘philia’ indicates a fan or connoisseur. Affection for something.”
“Uh, huh.”
“And the threptero… thrept… I feel I should know this!”
Mart sat silently and waited.
“Blast! I must concede the floor,” Ed said finally. “Tell me, dear boy, what does it mean?”
“You like nurses.”
“Oh! Very good. Very good. Well… I tip my hat to you. You are a true sesquipedalian.”
“Yep,” Mart murmured as Ed vanished. “Fortunately, I grew out of it.”
******
“Absolutely not,” Trixie said firmly. “I do not recommend making fireworks at home to anyone, and I’m certainly not going to try it for you. I’m thinking I know how you wound up here, though, huh? Did your last words maybe include some version of, ‘Hey, dudes! Watch this!’?”
******
“It’s really very important,” the young woman said earnestly. “I have to know.”
Dan blew out a breath and held up his hands, palms up. “I understand that you want to know,” he told her. “I just don’t understand how you think I’m going to get the answer for you. I can’t very well call up a man who’s never met or heard of me and say, ‘Sir? Did you cheat on your girlfriend with her cousin at your brother’s wedding?’”
“Well, why not?”
He stared at her. She was serious. With another sigh, he pulled out his phone. “What’s the number?” he asked in resignation.
******
“Hey. My full name is Beatrix Eudora Belden. You got nothin’ to complain about, bub!”
******
Dan shoved his phone back into his pocket. “He hung up.”
“He hung up?”
“Uh, yeah, Caitlyn. He hung up. After some really choice words and colorful language.”
“Then you’ll have to go to his apartment! Confront him for me!”
“Because he’ll be perfectly happy to talk to me in person when he won’t on the phone?” Dan scoffed. “No. Look, lady. What does it matter anymore? You’re dead. Whether he did cheat on you or not, you’ll still be dead. Nothing will change.”
Her expression shifted. Suddenly no longer looking like a sweet, if perhaps mildly scatterbrained kindergarten teacher, Caitlyn’s demeanor took on a much more baleful air. “It matters because I’m either gonna leave for good or haunt his sorry butt for the rest of his miserable life!”
“Of course,” Dan muttered with a grunt. “Yeah. Caitlyn? Why don’t you go over there and have a nice conversation with the doctor, and I’ll figure out what to do next. ‘Kay?”
******
Professor Lee looked up from his notes and smiled. “Office hours are done for the day?”
“Yeah,” Mart replied. “We have a… situation. Or potential situation anyway. Apparently we have a ghost who thinks her boyfriend cheated on her. She wants to know, and is threatening to haunt him depending on the answer. Dan got a bad feeling about it. Like poltergeist bad. He convinced her to go away for tonight and come back in two days and now we have to figure out what to do.”
“Hmmm. Interesting. So, you’re thinking we could maybe somehow prevent a poltergeist from… er… forming?”
“Does that sound too crazy?” Trixie asked. She crossed the room to stare almost sightlessly at Sarah’s journal pages. Is there an answer here, somewhere? she wondered. Sarah, I think we could really use your help.
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘crazy’ necessarily…” the professor began, but his words trailed off as they became aware of a distant sound.
“You hear that?” Dan asked, frowning.
Mart cocked his head to one side. “Yeah… it’s like… people yelling?”
The front door swung shut with a loud bang. Trixie let out a startled shriek as the boards on the broken window beside her rattled. Voices were shouting from outside. Soon, they were close enough to be heard.
“Open up! We know you’re in there!”
“There’s no escape!”
Trixie took two steps backward, colliding with Dan as he reached for her.
“Witch! We know you’re there!
There was a pounding at the door, like many fists beating against the wood.
“You can’t hide forever! Come out now!”
Suddenly, Professor Lee leapt into action. Grabbing a stool, he rushed forward, out of the library and into the dim foyer.
“Stay here with Trixie,” Mart ordered as he hurried to follow.
The professor hesitated for only a second before taking the doorknob in his hand and yanking the door open. He hefted the stool over his head like a weapon. “You won’t-!” He stopped, puzzled. The front porch was empty, as far as he could tell. He whirled back to Mart. “Is anyone there?” he cried. “Do you see any ghosts?”
“No. There’s no one there. There’re no one here. At all.”
They regarded each other in confusion as Dan led Trixie into the foyer, still tightly clutching her hand. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.
“Some sort of manifestation?” Professor Lee guessed. “A… a remembrance of the night Sarah was killed?”
Trixie pulled away from Dan, heading further down the hallway. “Freckles? Is something wrong?”
She stopped in front of the long mirror. “Sarah?” she called out. “Sarah! I know you’re here. I know you’re listening.”
A cloud of smoke billowed out from the rear of the house, causing them each to gasp and cough. The acrid smell of burning wood filled the air.
“Sarah!” Trixie shouted again. “We don’t know what you want! You have to tell us!”
For a moment, nothing happened and she was about to make another plea when slowly, a figure materialized. It was hazy and indistinct at first, but as the swirling smoke dissipated, the ghostly apparition’s features became clearer. Her skin was as white as the sheets covering the furniture in the formal living and dining rooms, pale to the point of translucent, though dark smudges of soot streaked both her cheeks. Her eyes were dark and shadowed. She still wore the same tall pointed hat and long black dress and now they could see it was tattered and singed.
“Beware,” Sarah whispered. “You… must… beware. She… is… coming.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” Trixie asked almost frantically. “A ghost? A poltergeist?”
“Evil. She… is… evil. Beware…” The ghost shimmered faintly in the yellow-gold sun rays that streamed in from the open door. “Beware…” she said one final time before fading away.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Trixie exclaimed. “Sarah! A little more information would be extremely useful right about now! You may be my great-great-whatever grandma, but you are really starting to tick me off! Dangit! You’re less help than Very Headless Vernon! Ugh!” She spun around to look at the others and stilled. “Professor?” she asked in concern. “Are you all right?”
He was leaning weakly against the wall, one hand to his forehead. He dropped his arm and straightened, his expression revealing his confusion. “I… I could see her,” he replied with a hollow, disbelieving laugh. “I could see the witch’s ghost. Fascinating.”
“You know,” Trixie said thoughtfully as she reached for her water bottle, “I think we’re really improving at this. I’ll bet we could actually finish early today.”
Mart nodded his agreement. “Probably also, things are starting to settle down a bit. We had that initial run, but now I think maybe at least some of them are willing to wait for a day when things are less hectic. Like going on a vacation during an off-peak month.”
They both turned toward Dan as he gave an audible groan. He picked up the megaphone he’d borrowed from Di and stood. “People! Another coupla announcements! We do not know and therefore cannot answer or explain any of the following. What happened to Jimmy Hoffa? Is Bigfoot real? The identity of Jack the Ripper. Life on other planets, or aliens here on Earth. Was it the lone gunman or some guy on a grassy knoll? Anything about Stonehenge. Also? Even if we could get you a date with your favorite Playboy centerfold? You’re dead and it’s not happening. Now, would any of you happen to be a psychologist or psychiatrist of some kind?”
A middle-aged man with a receding hairline and long locks pulled back with a leather tie stepped forward. He was dressed in a shocking orange polyester suit and heeled boots that added several inches to his otherwise below average height. Trixie bit down on her lip to keep from laughing out loud as he held up one hand and spoke. “I’m Dr. Daetwyler. Clinical psychology.”
“Awesome. Get over here, Doc. This is Randy. He’d like to speak with you. Anyone else with mommy or daddy issues? Yeah? You can form a new line here and the doctor will see you shortly.”
******
“Sir! Please. I believe you,” Trixie said solemnly. “I do. I’m just not exactly sure what you want me to say or do about it.”
“I want my due recognition! My partner and I got our patent before James Wright, but he never admitted it! He got all the credit and no one even knows my name.”
Deciding not to point out that probably ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the population didn’t know who James Wright was either, Trixie leaned over and grabbed the megaphone. Rising from her stool, she crossed to the front of the porch. “Hello? Everyone? This is Earl Warrick. He invented Silly Putty.”
To a scattering of cheers and applause, Earl bowed and disappeared.
******
“Oh, no, ma’am,” Mart said. “I’m sure your apple butter was always better than Mabel Tollingsworth’s. You’re probably right. I’ll bet the judging at the fair was rigged.”
******
“Mister? You know I’m only sixteen, right? Why would I know enough about wine to tell you which is the best to serve with a baked cod?” Trixie waved one hand toward the remaining spirits waiting in line. “Why don’t you ask around? I’m sure someone here knows.”
******
“So it was just after midnight when you died?” Dan asked. “Definitely not still before.”
The very elderly man across from him bobbed his head. “That’s right,” he replied in a raspy voice. “I heard the grandfather clock chime.”
“And it was your birthday.”
“Yes. I was one hundred years old.”
“Congratulations.”
“I didn’t even get to have my cake,” the man said glumly. “It was such a lovely cake. My great niece baked it for me.”
“Ah. Right. Okay. I can’t really fix the cake issue for you, but come here.” Using the megaphone again, Dan called for attention. “People. Listen up! I want to introduce you to Harry Clark. He died on his 100th birthday before he got the chance to celebrate. So… let’s just take a moment and sing him a round of ‘Happy Birthday.’ Ready?”
******
“Crap,” Trixie muttered. “Uh… hang on. No! Please. Please, stop talking. I don’t understand what you’re saying. Stop! You don’t speak English? No? None at all? You have no idea what I’m saying to you right now. Fabulous.” She fished her phone from her pocket and tapped a few keys. “Voice translation to English,” she said after a moment. Her phone beeped and she held it out. “Okay. Now talk.”
The dark haired man spoke rapidly and urgently, his words a meaningless garble to her. She waited for her phone to decipher his message and then looked down at the screen.
“Wait. That can’t be right.” She shook her head and tapped the screen again. “One more time,” she instructed.
“De onwettige knaagdier stal mijn muziek cassettespeler.”
Frowning, Trixie read the translation again. “Okay. I give. Mart?”
Her brother turned to look over at her. “Yeah?”
“Google Translates is telling me the illegitimate rodent stole his cassette deck. Any clues?”
Mart’s brows rose and he smiled faintly. “He probably said some version of ‘rat bastard,’ Sis,” he explained with a chuckle.
“Oh. Oh, yeah! Ha! Uh… Voice translation to Dutch… Sorry. That sucks. But you’re dead now. And really, so are cassettes. So, you can move on and let the rat bastard suffer with his stolen, outdated technology. Have a safe journey and a wonderful afterlife.”
The man read the translation and gave her a thoroughly baffled look. She wondered how badly the software had butchered her words. “Uh… bye? Good-bye? Go?” She offered him an encouraging smile and a finger wave. “Shoo?”
With a somewhat sorrowful sigh, he was gone.
******
“Bacciferous.”
“Berry shaped, or something that has berries,” Mart said. “Pachycephalic.”
The old man slapped his thigh. “Easy! Has a thick skull. Magniloquent.”
“Using particularly grandiose or bombastic language. See also, Ed Grandy.”
“Ha. Touché, my boy,” Ed said with a laugh.
Mart flashed a quick grin at him. “Toddick.”
“Ah… a tiny quantity. Facinorous.”
“Vile or depraved. Threpterophilia.”
Ed opened his mouth and shut again. His brow furrowed and he slowly shook his head. “This is a real word?”
“Yes. That was the rule, right? Only real words. Threpterophilia.”
“Hmmm. Let me think. Let me think. The ‘philia’ indicates a fan or connoisseur. Affection for something.”
“Uh, huh.”
“And the threptero… thrept… I feel I should know this!”
Mart sat silently and waited.
“Blast! I must concede the floor,” Ed said finally. “Tell me, dear boy, what does it mean?”
“You like nurses.”
“Oh! Very good. Very good. Well… I tip my hat to you. You are a true sesquipedalian.”
“Yep,” Mart murmured as Ed vanished. “Fortunately, I grew out of it.”
******
“Absolutely not,” Trixie said firmly. “I do not recommend making fireworks at home to anyone, and I’m certainly not going to try it for you. I’m thinking I know how you wound up here, though, huh? Did your last words maybe include some version of, ‘Hey, dudes! Watch this!’?”
******
“It’s really very important,” the young woman said earnestly. “I have to know.”
Dan blew out a breath and held up his hands, palms up. “I understand that you want to know,” he told her. “I just don’t understand how you think I’m going to get the answer for you. I can’t very well call up a man who’s never met or heard of me and say, ‘Sir? Did you cheat on your girlfriend with her cousin at your brother’s wedding?’”
“Well, why not?”
He stared at her. She was serious. With another sigh, he pulled out his phone. “What’s the number?” he asked in resignation.
******
“Hey. My full name is Beatrix Eudora Belden. You got nothin’ to complain about, bub!”
******
Dan shoved his phone back into his pocket. “He hung up.”
“He hung up?”
“Uh, yeah, Caitlyn. He hung up. After some really choice words and colorful language.”
“Then you’ll have to go to his apartment! Confront him for me!”
“Because he’ll be perfectly happy to talk to me in person when he won’t on the phone?” Dan scoffed. “No. Look, lady. What does it matter anymore? You’re dead. Whether he did cheat on you or not, you’ll still be dead. Nothing will change.”
Her expression shifted. Suddenly no longer looking like a sweet, if perhaps mildly scatterbrained kindergarten teacher, Caitlyn’s demeanor took on a much more baleful air. “It matters because I’m either gonna leave for good or haunt his sorry butt for the rest of his miserable life!”
“Of course,” Dan muttered with a grunt. “Yeah. Caitlyn? Why don’t you go over there and have a nice conversation with the doctor, and I’ll figure out what to do next. ‘Kay?”
******
Professor Lee looked up from his notes and smiled. “Office hours are done for the day?”
“Yeah,” Mart replied. “We have a… situation. Or potential situation anyway. Apparently we have a ghost who thinks her boyfriend cheated on her. She wants to know, and is threatening to haunt him depending on the answer. Dan got a bad feeling about it. Like poltergeist bad. He convinced her to go away for tonight and come back in two days and now we have to figure out what to do.”
“Hmmm. Interesting. So, you’re thinking we could maybe somehow prevent a poltergeist from… er… forming?”
“Does that sound too crazy?” Trixie asked. She crossed the room to stare almost sightlessly at Sarah’s journal pages. Is there an answer here, somewhere? she wondered. Sarah, I think we could really use your help.
“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘crazy’ necessarily…” the professor began, but his words trailed off as they became aware of a distant sound.
“You hear that?” Dan asked, frowning.
Mart cocked his head to one side. “Yeah… it’s like… people yelling?”
The front door swung shut with a loud bang. Trixie let out a startled shriek as the boards on the broken window beside her rattled. Voices were shouting from outside. Soon, they were close enough to be heard.
“Open up! We know you’re in there!”
“There’s no escape!”
Trixie took two steps backward, colliding with Dan as he reached for her.
“Witch! We know you’re there!
There was a pounding at the door, like many fists beating against the wood.
“You can’t hide forever! Come out now!”
Suddenly, Professor Lee leapt into action. Grabbing a stool, he rushed forward, out of the library and into the dim foyer.
“Stay here with Trixie,” Mart ordered as he hurried to follow.
The professor hesitated for only a second before taking the doorknob in his hand and yanking the door open. He hefted the stool over his head like a weapon. “You won’t-!” He stopped, puzzled. The front porch was empty, as far as he could tell. He whirled back to Mart. “Is anyone there?” he cried. “Do you see any ghosts?”
“No. There’s no one there. There’re no one here. At all.”
They regarded each other in confusion as Dan led Trixie into the foyer, still tightly clutching her hand. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.
“Some sort of manifestation?” Professor Lee guessed. “A… a remembrance of the night Sarah was killed?”
Trixie pulled away from Dan, heading further down the hallway. “Freckles? Is something wrong?”
She stopped in front of the long mirror. “Sarah?” she called out. “Sarah! I know you’re here. I know you’re listening.”
A cloud of smoke billowed out from the rear of the house, causing them each to gasp and cough. The acrid smell of burning wood filled the air.
“Sarah!” Trixie shouted again. “We don’t know what you want! You have to tell us!”
For a moment, nothing happened and she was about to make another plea when slowly, a figure materialized. It was hazy and indistinct at first, but as the swirling smoke dissipated, the ghostly apparition’s features became clearer. Her skin was as white as the sheets covering the furniture in the formal living and dining rooms, pale to the point of translucent, though dark smudges of soot streaked both her cheeks. Her eyes were dark and shadowed. She still wore the same tall pointed hat and long black dress and now they could see it was tattered and singed.
“Beware,” Sarah whispered. “You… must… beware. She… is… coming.”
“Who? Who’s coming?” Trixie asked almost frantically. “A ghost? A poltergeist?”
“Evil. She… is… evil. Beware…” The ghost shimmered faintly in the yellow-gold sun rays that streamed in from the open door. “Beware…” she said one final time before fading away.
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Trixie exclaimed. “Sarah! A little more information would be extremely useful right about now! You may be my great-great-whatever grandma, but you are really starting to tick me off! Dangit! You’re less help than Very Headless Vernon! Ugh!” She spun around to look at the others and stilled. “Professor?” she asked in concern. “Are you all right?”
He was leaning weakly against the wall, one hand to his forehead. He dropped his arm and straightened, his expression revealing his confusion. “I… I could see her,” he replied with a hollow, disbelieving laugh. “I could see the witch’s ghost. Fascinating.”
