Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (15 page)

Not wanting to upset Elsa, Jack didn’t press the issue. However, he was feeling very certain that this was the same painting he and Sam had seen. “Thank you for intrusting me with your story. It was fascinating, even if the ghost stuff is fanciful as you were saying.”

Elsa’s tired old face brightened again. “Jack, I appreciate you listening so politely to the ramblings of an old woman. I have a feeling you are going to work out to be a great tenant,” and with that she resumed counting out the change he needed to purchase the necessary mouse traps.

When Jack finally left her dark apartment, he went out the back door and straight outside. He felt as if he was leaving an afternoon movie in a dark theater. The moment the blinding sunlight hit your face, it would leave you squinting and disoriented.

He walked over to his lime green Charger, freshly back from the shop. Climbing in, he started up the engine enjoying the rumble as it sprung to life. Next, he cranked up the stereo with a fast-paced song and went whipping down the driveway and out onto the street, wheels squealing. He needed something peppy to get his mind off his strange afternoon and Elsa’s dark story. Turning the music up louder, he sped onto a main road with the engine roaring. The car was working its magic, and he was starting to feel better already. After all, he had a great evening to look forward to, another date with Rene.

About ten minutes later, he found himself pulling into the Menard’s parking lot. He shot up one of the back aisles and was about to turn down another, when he heard tires screeching, and saw a black Shelby Cobra convertible with white stripes speeding directly at him. The Cobra came skidding to a stop just inches from hitting his side door. He was about to lean on the horn, and whip the driver the bird, when he got a clear view of the person. It was a woman with striking black hair that framed a very angular face, a face that had an exotic beauty.

At first, she just glared at him as if to say watch where you are going, even though she was in the wrong. Then she smiled and gave a slight wave. She threw her car into reverse and lit up the tires, going backwards only momentarily before pulling the emergency brake, and spinning the car around in a very smooth one hundred and eighty degree turn, before speeding off. Her driving skills, although a little reckless, seemed to be fantastic.

Jack couldn’t help but feel attracted to the exotic beauty. She was so pretty, and she knew her way around an automobile. He had a gnawing feeling that he had seen her face before. Continuing on his way, he parked the car. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he got about not being able to remember where he might have encountered her. Then again,
how could I forget a combo like that: a beautiful woman, and an awesome car?

During his shopping trip and on his drive home, it continued to bug him. Not being able to remember her was like when you watch a movie, and you know you’ve seen that actor or actress, but you just can’t figure out where. The problem turned over and over in his mind, until finally he became distracted by something else, thankfully.

*    *    *

Finally, it was date time. The day had seemed to drag on, even though he had been busy. His last activity before getting ready for his date was to set up the mouse traps, as Elsa had requested. He felt sure that this was a waste of time, but he did it anyway.

Jumping into his car, he began the drive over to Rene’s apartment. The plan was dinner, and then some dance club hopping. Rene seemed like that energetic type who would enjoy some good dancing. He was reaching for the stereo volume control to crank the music, when his cell phone rang. Jack didn’t have one of the fancy ring tones, just one of the standard ones, “Hello.”

“Hey, Jack, it’s Sam. Are you free to do some bar hopping tonight? Maybe we’ll meet some interesting ladies.”

“Not tonight, Sam, I already have a date lined up,” he replied cheerfully.

“Who’s your squeeze for this week, anyone I know?”

Jack hesitated for a second, “I doubt it, you know me, always someone new.”
Why didn’t I just tell him, it is with Rene? Then again, I think he might like her too, and he’ll just kid me about going out with the girl from the incident.

“All right, maybe next week.”

“Count on it,” and with that, Jack slid his cell phone closed and cranked up the music. He was about a block from Rene’s house when it hit him. He finally realized where he had seen that beautiful woman from the parking lot before. Her picture was on Mr. Yates’ desk. She was posed next to the Shelby, the car she had been driving today.
Why am I still thinking about her anyway? I have a date with a funny, cute, and very interesting lady.

*    *    *

Sam had decided to have a night in, and began flipping through the TV channels trying to find something good to watch. Nothing seemed very gripping, and he got up, heading for the kitchen.
Perhaps a few beers will enhance my television viewing pleasure.
He cracked open a can of Miller Lite, and began to guzzle it down. Walking back into the living room of his apartment, he resumed his channel surfing, finally settling on some new reality show. After watching it for twenty minutes or so, he started to lose interest.

Maybe I should get myself a pizza. That would go perfectly with this beer.
Thumbing through the speed dial numbers on his cell phone, he placed the call and walked back into the kitchen for another beer.

Flopping back into his easy chair, he forced himself to watch some more of the show. His mind began to drift, and his thoughts went to the journal he had recovered from the bank building. Getting up again, he went to retrieve the journal from the dresser drawer he had stashed it in.

The worn leather cover seemed very intriguing. What great secrets were contained on the pages in between? Sam chuckled to himself; his thoughts were starting to sound like the intro to yet another corny reality show.
Although, reading this is going to be more like a reality show than all that staged crap that gets put on TV.
Somebody actually took the time to write about their life, they didn’t just make things up and act goofy to get a camera pointed at them.

Opening it up to the first page, he read the name Tim Bartington, and just below that was a date, September 15
th,
1929. A twinge of guilt hit Sam for a moment. Reading this was kind of like snooping into someone’s life. He rationalized to himself,
it’s not like I’m spying on one of my friends or anything.
It’s likely with such an old date, that this guy has probably long since passed away.
Reading this was going to be more like an exercise in history.

Slowly, his fingers fumbling slightly with anticipation, he turned to the first full page.

I don’t quite know how to begin. A number of strange things have happened to me, today or over the last couple of days, I’m not exactly sure which. I am not comfortable writing all of it down. Somehow doing that seems to give it more credibility, and in my own mind the information seems far from credible.

So for now, I will just write some of the basic details of the events. I was having a simply wonderful day, until the strangest thing happened. I found myself in a park, with no idea of how I got there. Now, I know if someone else were to be reading this, they would probably assume that this statement implied heavy drinking, but that is far from accurate. No alcohol is yet involved in my mysterious tale. As I stated, I am in this park, and cannot figure out for the life of me how I got there. I mean, one minute, I was standing beside my Buick Skylark in this subdivision, and the next thing I know, I am in this park. The people walking by are all dressed very fancy, and I am just wearing shorts and a t-shirt.

Now this is where I’m going to edit things a bit, because writing it down would be like admitting I believed this to be real. Needless to say, I felt exceptionally confused and upset by this event. I was holding a coin in my hand, and I proceeded to throw it at nothing in particular. The coin ended up hitting the most striking woman in the arm. She had long gorgeous dark-brown hair past her shoulders, and the most devilish yet playful look on her face. I watched as her bright red lips moved, and distracted by their beauty, I did not immediately comprehend what she was saying to me. I apologized for the coin incident, and she was quick with a smile and forgiveness, even though her arm already showed some signs of bruising where the coin had struck it.

She mentioned that I looked lost, and out of place. In saying that, I’m sure she didn’t know just how right she was. I feel as if I may never get home again. She offered to help me, and I just stood there, still in my stupor. As she turned to leave, I felt as if my only life line was slowly disappearing. I quickly resumed our conversation, saying that her help would be greatly appreciated, and that’s when things got really interesting.

She urged me to follow her back to her place of business. Before we got there, two men that looked like gangsters approached. One of them urgently wanted to talk to Angela alone. Shortly after their conversation, I was left with one of her gangster-like assistants, Reggie. Reggie was told to take care of me, after which Angela insisted I join her for dinner later.

Reggie didn’t seem to like me much. He glared at me a lot on our drive over to my new house, or should I say room. The place was an old house that had been converted into many boarding rooms. Everyone living here appears to be rather shady. Reggie showed me my room. The place consisted of a bed, a dresser, and a small closest. The man’s voice sounded like gravel crunching under foot. I wonder if it has something to do with the large scar on across his throat.

After seeing the room, he took me to another room in the house. It was filled with all kinds of men’s suits. He told me to select several, and to make sure that I was ready for dinner by 7:30pm or else. I wanted to ask what the or else meant, but Reggie didn’t look like somebody that had a sense of humor. Turning before he left the room, he crammed a hundred dollars in my hand. He grumbled, “Don’t say you didn’t get everything.” He also asked if I needed a gun. I just stood there panicked; I was way out of my element. Slowly he shook his head, walking away.

Reggie reappeared at precisely 7:30pm, with the same surly look that seemed to pervade his face. I wished I was home relaxing with my feet up in front of the television, a good glass of wine in my hand. A feeling of exhaustion enveloped me.

Sam found himself deeply intrigued with the story. This didn’t appear to be any ordinary boring journal. Then again, why would it? Nobody would go to the trouble of concealing something plain in the wall. Something had just struck him about the last paragraph. Before he could put his finger on it, he heard a rap at the door. Setting the journal down carefully on the end table, he went to answer it.

Finally pizza time, I must have ordered this thing at least an hour ago.
He opened the door to a wide-eyed pizza man. The man’s face was red, and had the look of a drunken stupor.
Just great, no wonder he was so late. The delivery guy is shitfaced.
“This thing had better be hot, how much do I owe you?”

There was a momentary pause, and then a voice that didn’t fit the pizza guy came spilling out. “No more or you’ll  live to regret it! Quit Now!!!”

Sam stared at him, shocked by what he was hearing. “What did you say to me? What are you talking about?” Sam felt as if some unseen force was pressing in on him. There was a sudden ringing in his ears, and it felt for an instant as if he had been dragged underwater.

“That will be eighteen dollars and fifty cents, sir.”

As fast as it had come on, the feeling washed over him and subsided. “What did you say?”

Repeating it patiently, the pizza man again said, “Your total is eighteen dollars and fifty cents.” A smile crossed his slim face.

Sam noticed that his first impression about the man being drunk or red faced wasn’t accurate at all. “What did you say before you gave me the total?”

“I don’t follow you, Mr.; I didn’t say anything, except to ask you for the money. Could you please hurry up a little? I seem to be running behind tonight.”

Sam stared at him for a minute more, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out twenty-two dollars and told him, “Keep the change.”

Sam walked into the kitchen, setting the pizza box down on the counter. Shaking his head slightly, he reached into the refrigerator to get a cold beer. He could feel his mouth began to water at the thought of some dinner. Opening the box, he couldn’t believe what he saw. The box was empty, absolutely empty. Sam just stood there in surprise.
How can there be nothing, the wrong toppings maybe, but not an empty box.
Don’t that just beat all, now what am I going to eat? I can call up and yell, then wait another hour for a pizza, or just make another boring lunch meat sandwich.
He grunted, shaking his head in disgust.

Deciding to put the dinner dilemma aside, he rushed back into the living room; he couldn’t wait to continue reading the journal. The writing was engrossing, and before Sam had been interrupted by the weird delivery man, something about the story had struck him as out of place. He hadn’t had a chance yet to put his finger on exactly what that was, but he was determined to do it now.