Southern Haunts (2 page)

So, Max did not relish the prospect of sitting through another tear-filled telling of frightening loud noises or terrifying spectral images. At the same time, he knew he would listen. If he couldn’t help PB, then maybe he could do some good for somebody.

As Max and Drummond entered the office, he saw Sandra sitting behind his wide desk with a white man and a black woman waiting. The office was a wonderful mix of the old and the new. The building itself dated back to the 1960s — closer to Drummond’s world than any other space they had considered — with a long bank of windows, generous ceilings, and old moldings around the doors. The interior, however, was completely modern — still smelling of new carpeting and new computers.

Before Max could open his mouth, the man approached with his hand extended. “Hi, I’m Wayne Darian. This is my wife Shawnee.” Shawnee remained seated with her hands folded atop her pregnant belly. “Thank you so much for taking our case.”

“Hold on, there,” Max said. “I haven’t even heard what you want, yet.”

“Right. Of course. Well, then, thank you for taking the time to listen.”

Max glanced at Sandra. She shot back a look that said
I don’t know what they want either.
He pulled up a chair next to his wife. “Let’s start at the beginning.”

Wayne nodded, rubbing his hands against his legs as he settled back down. “Sure, the beginning.”

Drummond floated across the room toward the far wall — the one with the built-in bookshelf. It had been the deciding feature. Drummond had spent so many decades living in the bookshelf of their old office that Max thought it might be easier to transition to a new office with a familiar setting. Also, Max made sure to place a few false books filled with whiskey bottles inside. Drummond couldn’t drink them but liked having them around.

“Did they say anything before we got back?” Drummond asked.

Max did his best to blot out Drummond’s voice — a talent he had increased every day. “Please, Mr. Darian, what’s this all about?”

Shawnee placed a tissue to her eyes and sniffled. “It’s about our baby. Something’s trying to get our baby.”

“Something?”

“Please,” Wayne said. “We know you two are involved with the supernatural.” His face screwed up as if the word tasted bitter in his mouth.

Sandra put her hand out to Shawnee. “I know you’re both upset. I can see that. If we can help, then we will. You’ve been calm and fine while we waited for Max. He’s here now. Let’s all stay calm and find out what’s going on. Okay?”

Shawnee nodded. “Sorry, but this is all very foreign for us.” She spoke with a Deep South drawl. Max had learned that the Southern drawl had many distinct variations depending on the area the speaker came from. He didn’t know the differences well enough yet to pinpoint locations, but he knew enough to say that Shawnee was not from the Carolinas nor anywhere north.

Max put on a smile. “Why don’t we start with you two? How did you meet? What brought you to Winston-Salem?”

Wayne and Shawnee held hands as they eased into a better memory. Wayne said, “I’m from Philly. Born and raised. Did my undergrad at Temple and went across to Princeton for my Masters. Library sciences. I work over in High Point. Not a bad commute from here.”

“Librarians are some of my favorite people — considering all the research I do.” To Shawnee, Max added, “And what about you?”

“Oh, I come from Alabama. Raised on the straight and narrow. I met Wayne at Princeton while I was in Med School. We moved here because of me. I got work at Wake Forest Baptist Hospital. It’s just up the road from our house.” Her voice cracked on the word
house.

“Something wrong with the house?”

Wayne took over. “We were fine for the first year or so. Things only began happening in the last few months. It started when Shawnee began having these vivid, horrible dreams.”

“I kept dreaming of my baby,” Shawnee said. “I’d see it born on the kitchen table and there’d be all these creatures hanging over me, laughing, and biting the air around me, and they would grab for the baby. I’d scream but no sound would come out.”

“She’d wake up in a cold sweat, and it would take hours for her to come down from the fear. At first, we thought it was just the hormones and worry of being pregnant. You know, like a reaction.”

“But then I started seeing shadows moving out of the corner of my eye. Too many to be dismissed. I’ve heard noises, too. Old music and laughter and moaning. Whatever is in that house doesn’t bother Wayne. Only me. That’s why I think it wants my baby. I mean, isn’t that what ghosts want? A young life.”

Max pulled out his notepad and jotted a few keywords. “If your house is haunted and threatening your unborn child, why are you staying there?”

Wayne let go of Shawnee’s hand and leaned forward. “We can’t afford to move. Malpractice insurance and school bills alone are like a second mortgage. Plus we used what we had on the down payment for this house. I mean, I’m not crazy. If we can’t fix this, we’ll leave. But if there’s a way to solve our problem without forcing us into even worse debt, we’ll take that option. We like it here. We like our house — other than the obvious.”

Sandra said, “Please, tell my husband about the other team you hired.”

“Other team?” Max didn’t like the sound of that.

Wayne bit at his thumbnail. “Like we said, this started a few months ago. I’m not going to be some movie husband that ignores his wife until the walls start bleeding. Once Shawnee’s dreams went beyond just dreams, once she started seeing things in the house, we started looking for paranormal investigators.”

“And these paranormal investigators didn’t help?”

“They’ve done plenty. They said that our house has definitely got something inside it — a ghost, I guess. But the head of the team, Libby Broward, she said that she needed help, that whatever is after us goes beyond her team’s capabilities.”

“I see. So, she suggested you hire us.”

“No. She’s never heard of you. In fact, she wants to check you out before we agree to hire you.”

Drummond leaned toward his coat pocket and whispered. Max often forgot that the damaged soul of a former ghost hunter, Leed, resided in Drummond’s pocket. In fact, Max only noticed when he would catch Drummond talking with Leed. Something about that little blob of soul unsettled Max — far more than ghosts, witches, and curses ever had.

Drummond gave Max a quick nod. “You know this sounds fishy, right? I mean, Leed says this Broward lady is probably legit — if she were running a scam, she wouldn’t suggest getting outside help — but the fact that she never heard of us seems wrong.”

“That’s okay,” Max said to Wayne. “We’re not the most visible group in this field.”

“That may be,” Drummond said, “but I still think it’s fishy.”

Sandra gestured toward Wayne — a subtle enough motion to quiet Drummond down. “Perhaps you could explain how you found out about us?”

“Oh, that came from a fellow librarian — Leon Moore.”

Max bristled. Leon worked at the Z. Smith Reynolds Library at Wake Forest University — Max’s favorite place to do research. Leon had spent many hours spying on Max for the Magi Group, an organization devoted to fighting the Hulls and anybody else who abused magic. Though Max was happy to have others fighting the Hulls alongside him, his experience with the Magi Group left a bitter taste. He didn’t trust them. If for no other reason than the fact that they used magic, too.

“Ditch this case,” Drummond said. “It’s got nothing good surrounding it. And these two are really holding back. I don’t like that.”

Max had to agree. He felt bad for Shawnee. Nobody wanted to face a ghost attack, especially pregnant, but this all felt a little off like a painting slightly askew. Leon Moore’s involvement, even tangential involvement, meant that this could be trouble.

Placing his fingertips on his desk, Max said, “Mr. and Mrs. Darian, I think this case —”

“— is perfect for us,” Sandra said. “We’ll take it.”

Shawnee released a tense sigh. “Really?” She looked at her belly. “Thank you.”

Max shot Sandra a sharp look but she kept her eyes on Shawnee. Wayne cleared his throat with a bashful face. “Ms. Broward still wants to meet you before this goes any further. We don’t mean to offend you. It’s just that, well, as she said it, there are a lot of frauds in this line of work, and because our problem is real, she doesn’t want us getting hurt.”

“We understand perfectly,” Sandra said. “Let’s meet her as soon as possible and then see the house.”

“How about later today?”

“Great. Have her call us.”

“Oh, thank you.” Wayne hesitated. “Um, what about your fee?”

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with first. Then we can give you a fair estimate.”

Wayne and Shawnee offered more thanks as they left the office. When Sandra closed the door behind them, she faced Max and Drummond staring at her. She put a defiant hand on her hip and set her jaw. “What?”

Neither said a word in response.

Chapter 3

Max knew better
than to pick a fight with Sandra. She obviously wanted this case. Besides, he had made unilateral decisions for them before, so he had no ground to stand on.

They spent the rest of the morning quietly going through the paperwork of running a small business. It amazed Max how many forms they had to fill out and papers they had to file. Even with computers, the busywork never seemed to lessen. Having to be creative in their descriptions and explanations only slowed the process more. Each case had to be reclassified in order to be palatable to those in government who would balk at the idea of dealing with the supernatural as a business expense. By the time lunch arrived, Max was anxious to meet Liberty Broward just so he could get away from filling out government forms.

They met at Mr. Barbecue on Peters Creek Parkway, not too far south of the city. Max had to give Ms. Broward points for choosing a Lexington BBQ place. Max, Sandra, and Drummond entered the restaurant which was adorned with a long counter right at the front. Seating was off to either side.

A tall Japanese woman wearing a blue business outfit waved at them from the back corner. Seated with her was a chubby man with a thick beard and thicker glasses. Max and Sandra waved back, ordered their food, and walked over.

“Liberty Broward?” Max asked.

“Call me Libby,” the woman said, offering her hand. “This is Jack Deere, my audio man.”

Jack did a half-wave, half-salute without getting up.

Drummond crossed his arms. “Well, ain’t they a piece of work.”

“Please,” Libby said, “have a seat. I have a few questions for you before I offer up any of the case. I’m sure you understand.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Wayne and Shawnee?” Max asked.

“They won’t be joining us. This is not something they need to be bothered with. I think we can all agree they have enough to contend with.”

Drummond gestured toward Libby, and Max needed nothing more. He could tell on his own that Libby forced her friendly attitude because her clients had forced her into this situation. Sandra noticed, too, but she seemed unwilling to react to it.

Libby had a pile of papers and folders which she neatly placed to the side. Clasping her hands together so that her bracelets jingled against the table, she pursed her lips and nodded. “As I understand things, the Darians have requested your aid, but they are willing to let me make the final decision on whether or not to include you.”

Max wanted to bite into his sandwich, but instead he forced a smile of his own. “Look, we’re not trying to steal your business. They came to us, and we want to help. That’s all.”

“I hope so. Let’s start with a simple test. I want you to prove to me that you really do see ghosts.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about us?”

Drummond clapped his hands once and pointed at Libby. “See. I told you not to trust her.”

Libby gave her bracelets a single shake. “I do my research, too. When the Darians first mentioned you, I didn’t know your names. But you’ve helped out a few people with their ghost problems, and that kind of thing gets noticed in certain circles. It wasn’t too hard to find out a little about you. Unfortunately, what I have learned isn’t enough to prove whether you’re frauds or not.”

“Frauds?”

Sandra put a hand on Max’s arm. “She’s just being cautious.”

Libby went on, “My client is my top concern — not your egos. There is a serious problem going on at that house and it threatens that family. I won’t let just anybody who claims they can see ghosts to jump in and start mucking about. This has to be handled professionally.”

“Of course,” Sandra said. “How do you want to test us?”

Libby held Sandra’s gaze for a moment before frowning. She turned to Max. “I was told you were the one who sees ghosts, but your wife seems to be the one ready for the challenge.”

“I only see one ghost,” Max said. “But he’ll tell me whatever you want to know.”

Drummond chuckled. “Only if you’re nice to me.”

Libby returned her attention to Sandra. “There is a ghost in here that I want you to identify.”