The Supernaturals (43 page)

Connie Towers looked over at her producer. He was running his hand in a circle, telling her to continue. He held up ten fingers: she had ten seconds to comment on the report.

“Thank you Julie, that is sure some creepy stuff. I can’t wait to watch the special. Now, back to Robert and Lynn. Guys?”

“I agree with you, Connie, that is something I wouldn’t be happy to be covering,” said the female host. “Julie Reilly will be reporting live on tomorrow’s show from Summer Place, as we all prepare for this monumental special.”

Abraham Feuerstein smiled and handed his cup and saucer off to an assistant. He nodded at the cast of the morning show and then moved away, happy he had decided to make Julie file her audio report by phone.. He didn’t think about the events themselves; even after what had happened last night in his own limo, all the CEO saw were dollar signs scrolling across the teleprompter in his mind. He felt wise and beyond reproach for pushing the special.

As he waited outside of studio 1-B, Abe smiled wider than before.

“Brilliant,” he said as he waited for the elevator. He then turned to his assistant. “I want twenty spots added to the show’s promo package.”

‘That will squeeze out most of the primetime ad-time for our own shows,” she said, taking notes as they both stepped into the elevator.

“I don’t care. Every ten minutes, I want the Summer Place on that television screen. Add some more history script if you have to, but get the story out there. I want everyone in the country talking about Summer Place before the day’s over.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I never thought Halloween could be so lucrative. I should have dug up Professor Gabriel Kennedy many years ago. We’re going to piggyback that man right into ratings history.”

Bright River, Pennsylvania

At least a hundred people were gathered before the closed gate to Summer Place. Some were fans of the show, while some were most definitely not. The fans carried signs that read “
Hunters of the Paranormal
rules,” and others that told the two hosts of the show that they were loved. But they were being pushed and shoved by local folks from the small town of Bright Waters. Kennedy recognized a few of them—some of them had stood in front of the diner that very morning, aiming accusing looks at him and Julie.

In the absence of Eunice and her large husband, the network had brought in five uniformed security men. Gabriel knew immediately that the special was going to call for far more than that if this mess continued.

“This is a fucking circus already.” He honked the car’s horn when they were forced to stop thirty feet from the front gate by the two converging sides of the crowd. ‘This is never conducive to a controlled experiment. The cameras and stuff are bad enough, but this?”

“Professor, when did you ever believe this would be controlled—by you, or by anyone else involved in the production? You were never that damn naïve, were you?”

One of the admirers of the show slammed into the car’s hood. When the man saw that it was Julie Reilly in the passenger’s seat, he turned and called out to the others. Soon the car was surrounded by those trying to get autographs. Some of them even tried to open the car’s doors.

“Don’t say it. You want me to sacrifice myself and get out of the car so you can drive right on through the gate, right?” She leaned away from the glass as a large man pounded on the widow.

“Now that you mention it, that wouldn’t be a bad—”

Before Gabriel could finish his small joke, someone hit Julie’s window so hard that the glass broke. When he looked over, he saw hands reaching through the shattered window. Julie was actually being pulled at by more than one of the men. Gabriel opened his door without hesitation and pushed his way through the crowd, shoving several people out of the way. When he made it to the two men that were reaching inside of the car, he pulled one away and pushed him down. The other turned and hit Gabriel in the face. Julie sprang from the car. Kennedy was on the ground with a rather large man sitting on his chest. She swung her ample bag toward the man’s head and connected solidly. Then she was pushed from behind by an angry woman, and she knew immediately that this one wasn’t an admirer of the show or her credentials as a reporter.

“Jesus Christ!” Kennedy shouted. He gained his feet and pushed Julie into the car once more. As he got back in and threw the vehicle into gear, he saw two of the security men throwing the gate open. Another three kept the crowd back. Gabriel pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor, spun the wheels just to let the people around the car know that he was coming through, then let off the gas and slowly crept through the gate.

“What the fuck was that about?” Julie asked, trying to slow her heart and regain her breath. She looked over at Gabriel and saw blood running from the corner of his mouth. His jacket had been torn at the shoulder and his glasses were hanging down from one ear. The way he looked made her chuckle as she reached over and used a Kleenex to wipe the blood away. “That was one hell of a rescue, Professor,” she said as she finally got the nervous laughter under some sort of control.

Gabriel looked at Julie. He slowly made his way up the long gravel drive.

“So glad you approve. I was about to get my ass kicked back there, until you waylaid that guy with the horse purse you carry.”

“Believe me that was many years of reporting from places like Iraq and Afghanistan kicking in. It’s a self defense mechanism. You have Summer Place, I have assholes the world over that wanted my ass.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” he said.

“No, thank you. I thought those assholes were going to pull me right out the damn window.” She tossed the bloody Kleenex on the floor. “If it weren’t for you I would—”

“What the hell is happening here?” Kennedy said, cutting Julie off as they drove under the large portico.

Stumbling and backing down the steps were several men and women, also being confronted by men who looked even angrier than the ones out front. Among the defensive-looking group was a man they both recognized—Wallace Lindemann. He was pointing and gesturing toward the large double front doors as he backed down the stairs.

“Is that Kelly and Harris Dalton, the director?” Julie asked as she opened her door and stepped out. Gabriel quickly followed, thinking that the world had gone completely mad.

As they both approached the scene of the argument, Gabriel saw all of the vans and trucks on the side of the house where they had been directed to park. The truck drivers, the production and technical staffs, camera and sound men all watched in fascination as the argument progressed from the front of the house to the large stairs that led to the drive.

“I don’t care! You broke our agreement and if nothing happens tomorrow night, we’re going to sue you, Lindemann!” Kelly was shouting. Gabriel removed his sunglasses and watched as the director, Harris Dalton, reached out and pulled Kelly Delaphoy back from the men Lindemann stood in front of, as if he were guarding them. Then Kennedy saw the man in the black coat and recognized him immediately. He stepped up until he was only a foot behind the men as they backed down the steps.

“Yeah, well, sue me for what? Because my house isn’t haunted after all?” Lindemann shouted.

“If you did anything to ruin this for the network, you little prick, you know they’re going to hang you,” Kelly came back.

“What’s going on?” Kennedy asked as Julie stepped up beside him.

Lindemann, the two women and the man in the priest’s coat turned and saw Gabriel and Julie as they stood there.

“Hello Father,” Gabriel said with a small smile creasing his lips.

“Gabriel.” The older man held out his hand and actually smiled back when Kennedy took it.

“Who is this?” Julie asked.

“The Father and I go way back. He’s a professor of Seminary Studies at Columbia, and the only man who ever believed me about Summer Place.” He smiled wider. “Well, maybe a little. His name is Father Lynn Dolan.” Julie nodded at the gray haired man.

“Yeah, and he’ll be named in the lawsuit too,” Kelly shouted. She was trying desperately to shake off Harris Dalton’s restraining hands.

Gabriel looked curiously from Kelly to Father Dolan. “Lynn, what did you go and do?” He climbed the step to get eye level with his old acquaintance.

“The owner of this magnificent property asked us to bless it, before the arrival of this travesty.”

“Professor, he didn’t bless the house. He went room to room, cleansing it. He may have chased off everything we’re looking for!” Kelly shouted. She was wild-eyed and Julie thought she looked insane.

Kennedy shook his head. He removed a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and patted his lip where it had been cut. “You didn’t?” Gabriel gasped mockingly, in a rather good impression of being stunned and shocked, Julie thought.

“I did. And do you know what, Gabriel?”

“Do tell,” Kennedy said as he looked at the blood on his white handkerchief.

“Don’t even speak to this man—this fake—he and Lindemann just fucked us all,” Kelly called, finally shrugging off Dalton’s hands.

“Ms. Delaphoy, would you shut up for a moment? You’re making an ass out of yourself,” Kennedy said as he tucked the handkerchief back into his pocket.

“See? I told you. Now let it go,” Dalton said from behind Kelly.

“As I’ve been saying all along, my house is not haunted. If you decide to continue with this character assassination tomorrow night, the whole world will see it,” Lindemann said, and turned on Kennedy. “And you’ll finally get what’s coming to you for starting this whole messed up story.”

“Pompous little ass,” Julie said, holding her ground behind Kennedy.

“Tell me, Lynn...” Gabriel took the priest by the arm and took two steps up toward the house. “You didn’t feel anything when you were inside?”

“Gabe, I felt absolutely nothing but envy that this house is owned by someone other than me.”

Kennedy smiled and then looked up at Kelly and Harris.

“This man did nothing that will interfere with my experiment. If he did get rid of something that walks in this house, then it wasn’t as strong as I believed it to be, and thus couldn’t be responsible for all the tragedy that’s happened here.” He turned back to Father Dolan. “By the way, who are your two friends?”

“This is Kathy Lee Arnold and her assistant from the Pennsylvania Paranormal Research Society.”

Kennedy laughed out loud, ignoring the heavyset woman’s hand as she reached for his. She lowered it with a distasteful look on her plump face.

“Paranormal Research Society—Ghost hunters, right?”

“That’s right, and for the past three hours we have been conducting our own inquiry into Summer Place. It’s our conclusion that this house was never haunted; or if it was at one time, is not now.”

Gabriel nodded and then turned to Kelly Delaphoy.

“I think you have bigger problems out in the front Ms. Delaphoy. I suggest you take care of that and let these people be on their way.”

“Father, would you mind stating what you did, on camera for the show? I promise no cheap shots will be taken,” Julie said.

“Excellent idea. You’ll get good face time, Lynn—something Columbia University loves for its professors.”

“I suppose I can stay a few minutes longer,” the Father said. Julie led him away, and they were followed by the two ladies from the PPRS.

Kelly Delaphoy bounded down the steps and rounded on Kennedy. “What are you doing? Do you know what he did?”

“Well, I’m guessing Lindemann hired him to cleanse Summer Place before the investigation tomorrow night.”

Lindemann said nothing. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in days. The smell of alcohol wafted around him like a hovering rain cloud.

“And you’re okay with that?” Dalton asked Kennedy.

Kennedy looked up at Summer Place, even though he couldn’t see the bulk of the massive house from underneath the portico.

“Sure. As a matter of fact, if I were producing this show, I would try and get the Father to be available on Halloween—for his expert opinion.”

They were both dumbfounded.

“Plus, I would try my best to find out who was behind this idea of cleansing the house by purging the spirits out of it before the show,” he said, turning to face Wallace Lindemann.

“I came up with the idea myself.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Wallace. You just don’t have the imagination,” Gabriel countered.

Lindemann, instead of answering, pushed past Kelly and Harris and made his way up the stairs.

“You better watch it, moving that equipment into the house. Nothing gets in before seven in the morning!”

“We can tour Summer Place?” Harris called after him. Lindemann stalked off into the house, probably heading for the well-stocked bar.

“Professor Kennedy, what if they…they…”

He stepped out from under the portico and watched Julie Reilly interview the Father, with the two ladies smiling in the background. “Forget it. That thing in there isn’t going to be frightened away by a few Roman Catholic rituals and words.” He looked up at the warm and inviting house. “Whatever is in there is waiting for its own show to begin. Whatever my old friend did, I’m sure it found it all very amusing.”