Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (19 page)

“Sure, but can I hear the rest of the story first?” she said, scooting forward in her chair.

Rubbing his hand slowly across the bottom half of his face, he just stood there. He was steadfast as if frozen in thought. “Let me make the coffee first, regular or decaf?”

“I’m easy, whichever you prefer.” Rene giggled slightly trying to lighten the mood.

Liam chuckled back, and launched into a conversation about coffee brands and how to choose the very best one.

*    *    *

Sam hadn’t planned much for his Sunday other than loafing around, and maybe taking the car to get its oil changed. However, as he finished getting dressed the idea of golfing popped into his noggin.

Several minutes later, he called Jack and several other friends, managing to line up a tee time for one-thirty p.m.
Now, what to do until then?
He definitely had some stuff he should do, but he just wasn’t feeling very motivated.

Instead, he decided to take another look around again for that goofy journal. The night before when he had lost it, the whole thing had been so frustrating and freaky he had given up trying to find it. Now however, he found himself with a renewed enthusiasm.

It didn’t take long to find the journal, just under the edge of the couch. Sam quickly concluded it must have fallen off the table and been bumped by his foot, causing it to slide beneath the sofa. He must have overlooked the thing the night before because of his frustration with the delivery man and his non-existent pizza.

That whole event last night was rather freaky. I could have sworn that pizza guy told me not to read it. Maybe I shouldn’t be meddling with it, but the writing is just so compelling, what a window to the past. Reading it made me feel like I was back there with him. Ah, what the hell, what can reading a little more hurt?

And with that, Sam flopped down on the couch and opened the worn leather cover. He began reading about a dinner party at someplace called Sharkys, and about Angela giving Tim the journal. Sam was finding this stranger’s life riveting. The cast of characters seemed to come to life for him the further he perused. 

Monday September 16
th
, 1929

I would be lying to myself if I didn’t admit waking up today wishing this was all a bad dream. When my eyes opened and I saw that it wasn’t, I closed them tightly shut like a little kid. I tried squinting next, putting everything into a soft blur, so that maybe I could convince myself I was seeing what I wanted to see.

Of course, that didn’t work any better for me than it does for anyone else. So, getting up reluctantly, I again took in my new surroundings in an attempt to validate their reality. I don’t want to mention it in writing, but there is something else that is weighing on me heavily. I have been thinking about it and worrying about it, which is not my style. I like to think through something and take action, but what action can I take in this case? Unless, something has just come to mind, with any luck evening will find me elsewhere and not writing in this journal but home relaxing.

The author of this journal is so mysterious with details, only telling part of the story,
Sam thought. That’s probably why he was finding it such a gripping read. Before Sam could see what happened next, his phone began to ring. Grumbling, he set the journal down and walked into the kitchen area, plucking the cordless headset off its answering machine base.

Sam was tempted to say, ‘What do you want?’ but instead forced out a somewhat friendly, “Hello”. At the moment, all he was focused on was getting back to that journal. He just had to find out Tim’s unfathomable secret.

There was no reply from the other end, just a dead silence. “Hello,” he said again, rather agitatedly. At first it appeared he was going to get more of the same, and then a woman’s voice, smooth but as hard as glass, came over the line. The statement was simple, “Drop it.”

No sooner had the mysterious caller finished that statement than the sky turned a spooky blackish-green. Rain, followed immediately by hail, began to pound the apartment windows. Several of the panes shattered inwards, just before the hailstones turned back into a downpour chased inward by a driving wind.

Sam slammed down the phone and ran into the living room. He needed to get to the basement fast, in case this freak storm turned into a tornado. Glancing at his coffee table on the way to the front door, he noticed the journal was no longer sitting there. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself, he turned and went over to look for it. This time the journal was not under the edge of the couch. As he got up from the floor, he bumped a sofa cushion, exposing the corner of the journal. It was as if somebody had stuck it underneath there deliberately. Hurriedly, he grabbed it and dashed out of the apartment.

*    *    *

The warm coffee seemed extra appealing as the rain pounded intensely upon the roof above them. Rene hadn’t noticed when she first walked in how quiet Liam’s house was, but now with the contrast of the rain it became pretty apparent. About the only noisy thing in Liam’s house was the two of them conversing, and the loud ticking noises of several old fashioned clocks.

Noticing the way Rene had turned her head as if listening to something, Liam asked, “Do you like them?”

“Like what?” she replied.

              “The clocks, they make such a soothing sound don’t you think?”

Rene was startled by how in tune this strange man was with her at the moment. How did he know she had just noticed the clocks for the first time? “Yes, I guess it does seem relaxing.”

The rain was beginning to ease up some, and as it became quieter, it felt as if the clocks were becoming louder and louder. Like precious time was ticking away.

*    *    *

Steve was about a block away from his office building, finishing his run, when the rain began to pour down. At first he didn’t mind it, the run had made him rather hot and sweaty; the coolness of it was a welcome relief. With half a block remaining, the storm switched suddenly into hail and all of its appeal immediately dissipated. 

Stepping into the main entrance of the office building, he shivered as the air conditioning hit him. Shrugging it off, he checked his Ironman watch. He smiled to himself; this was one of his best times between the apartment and work.
Not bad, not bad at all. Who’s the best, I’m the best.

Before he got to the elevators an enthusiastic security guard called out a greeting, “Hello, Mr. Yates, it looks pretty nasty out there.”

Steve waved half heartedly, “Yes, the weather has taken a turn for the worse.”

Boarding the elevator, he pushed the button for the twenty-fifth floor and waited. It was a quick ride, and he stepped off heading for his office.

Steve’s office had a private bathroom, and finding a towel he began to dry off his soaked hair.

Ron stepped tentatively into Mr. Yates’ office. He knew getting called in on a Sunday didn’t bode well. He shivered, remembering the last time he was called in on a Sunday.

It had been several years ago now, but the event was still clear in his mind. Some powerful investor was trying to pull out of one of Mr. Yates’ bigger projects. Yates’s attempts to charm the man back over had only led to him being threatened with some secret from his past. The past was not something Mr. Yates liked to deal with. Confronting Yates with it had been a bad choice on the man’s part.

Ron had arrived that day to find Mr. Yates yelling and throwing stuff around. Steve had ordered Ron to follow the man and find out what he knew. After several days of sneaking around without much to report, Yates flew into a blinding rage and wouldn’t listen to reason. He ordered Ron to eliminate the bastard. The thought of it made him shudder. The process hadn’t gone exactly as planned. He had shot the man a couple of times but the son of a bitch had refused to die, instead choosing to beg for his life, an image that remained burned in Ron’s memory to this day. It was sad, real sad, but in the end it was this poor sap or him, and Ron did the only thing he could do, finish the job. In the man’s car Ron had found a locked metal briefcase which was still hidden in his garage to this day. He didn’t have the stones to open it. Well, maybe that wasn’t completely true. Ron knew if he did open it and it contained the blackmail information, he might find himself tempted to use it. Yates was nobody to screw with and thoughts like that could only end tragically. So instead of opening the case and completely throwing away the opportunity, he stashed it, almost like an insurance policy, a last ditch backup plan.

“Hello, Mr. Yates, anybody here?” The silence this time almost seemed worse than the tirade of the past.

Steve was about to answer, but the nervous twinge in Ron’s voice amused him. So instead he stayed quietly put.

Again Ron called out, “Hello, anybody here!”, and again there was no reply.

Shockingly, Steve burst out of the bathroom with a large dagger in his hand. He waved it around with a crazy look on his face moving steadily towards Ron the whole time. Precariously, Ron stood his ground, fear holding him in place as much as courage. Rushing right past him, Steve buried the knife up to its hilt in the plush leather chair behind Ron.

Ron gasped turning several shades of white before regaining his composure. Still he waited for Steve to speak first, hoping to gauge his mood. The veins in his balding temples twitched as he tried to remain calm and not show his fright.

Steve laughed followed by a large smile, “Ron, you should have seen your expression. It was really quite priceless. I’m sorry; I couldn’t resist having a little fun.”

“That’s all right, bosses’ prerogative I guess,” he said, before slumping down into the other chair.

Damn right it is, and without fear one can’t rule properly or command the proper respect.

Changing demeanor completely from insane-looking to rational, Steve sat down on the leather couch. The couch sat directly across from the two leather chairs, separated by a large cherry coffee table. The table was covered with multiple magazines and several bottles of expensive liquor surrounded with crystal glasses. Everything was top-notch and pristinely kept.

“So, I bet you have a good idea why I called you here today.”

“Actually no, I’m kind of at a loss. I mean, I know it has something to do with all the delays on the bank building project. Although, I’m not sure what you need from me.”

“Based on that, I’m guessing you haven’t heard the latest news yet. So, let me fill you in. Last night there was a body discovered at the project site. It’s simple enough to imagine that this new development is going to create yet another delay. All of which is really pissing me off! It just seems all too coincidental that every time things look good another delay comes up. I feel like someone or something is working against me.”

“How am I going to help with that?” Ron questioned.

“Well, thanks to some reliable connections, I was able to find out some more non-public details about the current incident. The crime appears to be an attack and a murder, maybe. One of the most important facts is that a man named William Wilhelm was at the scene. Supposedly, he was attacked and survived. Anyway, you have met this individual before; he goes by the name Liam! He’s that dumb-ass trouble maker that was leading the protest group against the demolition. Some further digging revealed that Liam owns a local antique store. Our new project manager’s girlfriend just happens to work there. The lady’s name is Rene. Again, all of this seems just too convenient to be pure coincidence.” Pausing, Steve got up and walked over to a well-disguised refrigerator, retrieving a bottled water. “Would you like something, Ron? Some booze, water, soda, feel free to help yourself.”

Ron leaned forward, grabbed the bottle of bourbon, and poured himself half a glass. Picking up the heavy crystal glass, he admired it for a second before downing it’s entire contents. “You always have top notch stuff. I got to hand it to you,” he paused savoring the after taste. “I’m guessing you want me to follow some or all of these people to see what this connection is all about, and if any of it applies to the project.”

“You are exactly right, Ron. I’m impressed, but then again that’s why I keep you around, you’re not stupid. Don’t take any drastic steps at this time without letting me know first, unless it’s Liam. I can’t say I would feel too bad if something happened to that asshole. Let me tell you this, no one is going to stop me from completing my masterpiece no matter what!” He finished the last sentence, waving his pointer finger at Ron for emphasis.

Steve walked around behind his desk and, opening a side drawer, pulled out an envelope. He laid it on the edge of the sparkling top, and motioned for Ron to come over.

Ron picked up the envelope and opened it, staring happily at the contents. There was a crisp stack of hundreds.

“Just a little bonus to show you I appreciate your work, and have every confidence you will help me solve this little situation.”

“Thanks, Mr. Yates. This money will come in very handy.”  Ron had some serious bills to pay off, thanks to that nagging wife of his. She was such a pain in the ass. The woman never worked a day in her life. For someone that didn’t bring in any money, she sure could spend it. He wished he could have a good looking woman, like the one in the car picture on Yate’s desk.
Wow, she’s hot, and I bet she’s not a nag like my fucking ball and chain.