Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (14 page)

Chapter 15
Sat. Afternoon July 21
st
, 2007

Saturday Afternoon July 21
st
, 2007

Jack walked downstairs to the first floor, knocking on the door that led to Elsa’s part of the house. He waited, trying to be patient, not his strong suit. After getting no response, he knocked again, louder this time.

“Hold on, I’m a-comin,” answered a wizened old voice. Several minutes later, Elsa appeared at the door. “Jack, it’s good to see your young face. What can I do for you?” she asked, with a large grin that only deepened the channels running through her cracked face.

“I’m concerned about some footsteps I heard coming from the third floor. I went up there and couldn’t find anything, but I clearly heard them.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense, you are the only one up there, unless you’ve been sneaking in some young ladies. A handsome young man like you, I bet has plenty of girls hanging around him.” At this statement, she chuckled a little to herself before breaking out into a small cough. “What I’m sure you did hear is mice, or worse, squirrels. Every once in a while the upstairs gets infested with them. I’ll give you some money to buy some mouse traps.”

“It really didn’t sound like mice. It sounded like footsteps,” he said, a little less resolutely than before.

Acting as if she hadn’t heard him, Elsa said, “Follow me, while I get some money for those mouse traps.” She shuffled slowly through the kitchen and into the parlor.

Jack wrinkled his nose, her whole apartment smelled of old.
What is it about old people, how do they all get that same funky smell?
He made a conscious effort to begin breathing through his mouth more.

Elsa stopped next to a table that held a big crystal bowl filled with pennies. She reached into the bowl with her knurled old hand, pulling out a handful of pennies. Slowly, she turned her hand palm up, and with the other shaking visibly, began to count the pennies one by one onto the table.

“That’s okay, Elsa; I’ll cover the cost of the mouse traps.”

“Nonsense, it is my obligation as the landlord to make sure the place is kept up properly,” she said sternly, returning to her counting.

Jack’s thoughts went flashing back to his younger days as a paperboy. Every week on Saturday, he had to go around to his customers’ houses collecting their payments. Most of them were very nice, and often paid for the month, so as not to inconvenience him with having to come every week. One however, Gladice Levenyitz, made him come by every week. She was very old, and insisted on paying with coins and not paper money. So every week he went, and patiently waited in her dimly lit house for her to count out the payment one penny at a time. Occasionally he would get lucky, and she would have nickels and dimes. She always counted out an extra twenty-five cents for his tip. The woman always seemed lonely to him, which is why he didn’t try to create a stink about the whole thing, with his boss at the paper. Sometimes Mrs. Levenyitz would tell him a story from her past. Here and now he felt like that young boy again waiting for Mrs. Levenyitz to count out the money.

Elsa seemed to get tired and her counting began to slow down. “Jack, what would you say to a nice cup of coffee while I rest a moment?”

Feeling sorry for the old woman, he agreed. “Sure, Elsa, that would be nice.”

“There’s a pot brewing in the kitchen. There are some cups in the cupboard just to the right of where the coffeepot is,” she rasped, and with that she turned, shuffling a few steps, and plunked resolutely on an old flowered arm chair.

Jack went out to the kitchen and was surprised, but not surprised to see an old fashioned looking coffee pot, merrily percolating away. While he was rummaging around for the coffee mugs his eyes were drawn to a side table running along the window base. The table was covered with old photos of all sorts. There was a big photo in the center of the grouping, with what appeared to be a very young-looking Elsa standing next to a young man, perhaps her husband. They both looked so youthful, and their faces shown with a childlike excitement. He could hardly imagine the old woman sitting in the other room was the same person.

Jack walked back into the parlor carrying two steaming mugs of hot coffee. He loved the smell of coffee. Especially now, as its strong fragrance masked the musty smell of the place, which had been bothering him. It was amazing what a friendly smell could do to make a place seem much more inviting. As he handed Elsa her mug, he witnessed in her eyes a spark of the youthfulness that had shown through in the picture he had been admiring.

“Thank you, Jack,” she said, taking the coffee. “A good cup of coffee in the afternoon really peps me up.”

“Elsa, if you don’t mind me asking, was that your husband and you in the big picture on your kitchen table?”

“Yes, that was me, and my husband Eddie back in fifty-three, right after we bought this place. We were so pleased with our purchase, and about all the happy times we were going to share in our new home. Sometimes, I can see it like it was only yesterday,” she said, a far away look spreading across her face.

After a silence that persisted for some time, Jack prodded the conversation on. “So was the house everything you had hoped for?”

She smiled, the wrinkles deepening on her already cracked face. “Yes, after a rather rough start it turned out to be everything we had hoped for, and more. Eddie and I raised six beautiful children together in this old house. Those were good times. I never plan on moving from this house.  Eddie passed on several years ago, which is why I need a good strong young man such as yourself to be my renter and help out.” She reached over and patted Jack on the top of the hand with conviction. 

He was surprised by the warmth of her hand. “I’m really curious about what you meant by a rather rough start. I know it’s none of my business.”

“That’s okay, I love to tell stories, and I am sure this is one you’ll appreciate. My dear husband Eddie sometimes let his imagination get the better of him, just like you did today with that footsteps nonsense. Well, when we first moved in Edward got a notion in his head that this place was haunted. I usually don’t tell this story because I don’t want people to think bad of Edward, but I’m convinced you won’t. Anyway, we had settled ourselves into the large master bedroom upstairs. We had gotten such a deal on this place, and it came fully furnished right down to the art on the walls.” Pausing, a far away look came over her face again, as if she was there and then, and not in the here and now. Slowly, she resumed her story; the distant look remained on her face, as if she were reliving the moment. “There was a painting hanging on the bedroom wall over by the sitting area. It was a lovely oil painting of this very house, and in the painting was a little girl in the most beautiful dress. She had long dark hair that came down from a cute white hat. The little girl had the most striking expression on her face. Sometimes when you were looking at the painting it seemed she was glaring back at you defiantly, and other times it appeared to be more of a proud sophisticated gaze. I could never make up my mind which. I don’t believe in superstitious hogwash, but I was almost convinced that her expression changed, and that it was not just my interpretation. Well, to jump to the point, it didn’t much bother me, but it bothered my husband Eddie. He went as far as to claim that sometimes the girl wasn’t in the picture at all. Although, every time he tried to prove that to me, there she was staring back at us. This went on for about a week, and was starting to become a pretty good joke between Eddie and me,” pausing again, Elsa smiled and a little chuckle escaped from her dry old lips. “At least it was funny for a little while. About a week into this game, I had gone out to the market and Eddie was home alone working in his study. He described to me that he felt like he was being watched. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up, and the more he tried to ignore the sensation, the more intense the feeling got. Suddenly, he felt obsessed with checking on the painting. He ran to the bedroom, and as he ran he heard footsteps behind him. Several times he looked back, but saw nothing. Upon arriving in the room, he could see the painting hanging there undisturbed. However, the little girl was not in it. Instead there was a beautiful dark- haired woman standing on the porch where the little girl had previously been. He claims she was glaring at him, with great intensity.” Struggling to remember for a moment, Elsa paused. “I believe Eddies exact words were, ‘There was a fire in her eyes that showed great malice.’ He said this with such conviction that I still remember them to this day.”

Jack found himself quite drawn into the old woman’s story. “Then what?” he said urgently. He didn’t want to be impolite, but he had to know more immediately.

She continued, apparently unfazed by the urgency in Jack’s voice. “Well, a number of strange occurrences happened around the house. All of which happened to Eddie, except for one, and that one was the final straw. Eddie came home from work one evening to find me staring at the painting. He tried to get my attention, but according to him I was unresponsive. When he grabbed my shoulder and turned me to face him, he nearly leapt out of his shoes. I had a look of hatred on my face, the likes of which he had never seen. I was babbling something quietly, most of which he claims was unintelligible. There were several things he did say he could make out. Those things were something about a medallion, a double crosser, and the words, ‘I’ll get even’. Now mind you I have never doubted dear Eddie, but I don’t remember one bit of this. To me it was as if it never happened. Eddie says he repeated the words dear Elsa, my dear sweet Elsa, and my features returned to normal. His expression, however, was far from normal. All the color had drained from his naturally rosy face, and he had a ghost-white complexion. He was so upset, I felt very sorry for him, and yet he was trying to console me. I couldn’t figure out why, because as I told you I have no recollection of this event. That dear sweet man hugged me the hardest he ever did in our whole lives. Then turning, we both looked at the painting again. It appeared as normal with the little girl in the lovely dress. There was, however, a single change. In one of the upper windows of the house, it appeared there was the ghostly outline of a man. Eddie took down the painting immediately without saying another word, and left the house. When he came back several hours later, the painting was gone. He had sold it to a local art dealer, who had finished scaring Eddie out of his wits by telling him some history about our house. The art dealer had stated he didn’t believe in haunted houses, but if one was going to be haunted, this was the one. According to him, this house was owned by a very wealthy gentleman back around the turn of the century. Somewhere about 1909, the gentleman’s house was supposedly raided by authorities. He went outside to protest the situation with the authorities. The police were having none of it, and one of them pulled out a gun and shot the man point blank. According to the story, the shooter just laughed, until he looked up and saw a little girl standing on the porch who looked very much like the girl in the painting. As the story goes, she ran back into the house, and he ran after her. She had a head start, but he was very quick and could hear her footsteps, as she raced along the wood floors. The chase ended when the officer caught up with the girl in her father’s office. Much to his surprise, and that of the other officers entering just a few moments behind him, the girl stood steadfast behind a desk, pointing a gun directly at them. She didn’t cry or look scared as she opened fire on her father’s attacker. He went down with three bullets to the chest. The thought of this story and the poor little girl just repulses me, and I’m not quite sure how much of it I believe. The art dealer didn’t know what happened next. By some accounts the little girl was gunned down by the remaining two officers. By other accounts she was captured and placed in a foster home, where she was treated like a maid for some wealthy family. No matter which ending you chose to believe, the whole story is very troubling. I wished the art dealer had not told it to Eddie. His nerves were already quaking from the earlier incident. Later that night, Eddie and I resolved not to speak about any of this again. The painting was gone, and no more strange occurrences took place. I never saw that painting again, and I was glad for Eddie’s sake. It was the only antique from this house that we have ever parted with. It feels very strange for me to tell this story to you, after all of these years. I have never even told it to any of my children. I was afraid they would be spooked by all this hogwash.”

A smile came over Jack’s face, as he thought momentarily about them never selling anything. He could certainly attest to that after having been up in the attic. The smile was replaced quickly by a more thoughtful look, as he remembered the painting Sam had found in the office building. “You know, this may sound hard to swallow, but I am fairly certain I have seen the painting you just described.”

Elsa eyed him warily for a moment. “I doubt very much that you have. As I said, once Eddie sold it the thing just disappeared. In fact, one day shortly after Eddie got rid of it I found myself longing for one more look at it. I went down to the art dealer’s, but the painting had already been purchased. I asked him if he could tell me to whom. He claimed to have never seen the man who bought it before, and that the gentleman paid cash. Additionally, he mentioned, the man was more than a little frightening. As he walked out the door with the painting, he was talking to it or something. I feel sure it is hidden away in someone’s private collection, or has been destroyed with the passing of time.”