Stolen Dreams (12 page)

“She really said that?” Mary asked as she opened the closet
door and pulled out her jacket. “I embarrass her when I sing to the grocery
store music?”

Ian grinned and nodded.

“But
it’s
Motown,” Mary exclaimed.
“How can I not sing along?”

“Aye, I understand the problem here,” he sympathized. “And
I, myself, would be hard pressed to not break into song in the same situation.”

She looked over her shoulder and saw the wide grin on his
face. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” she asked.

Widening his eyes, he shook his head. “Mary,
me
darling, when have I ever attempted to mock you?” he
asked.

“I don’t know, every chance you get,” she replied. “I think
it comes from hanging around with my brothers.”

Chuckling, he stepped up, took her jacket from her and held
it so she could put it on. “I would never be as ungentlemanly as your
brothers,” he said.

Slipping her jacket on, she turned and met his eyes.
 
“Well, I do appreciate you talking to
Clarissa this morning,” she said. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am that
she’s not having any problems with the article.”

“She’s as right as rain,” he replied.
“Healthy,
normal and secure.”

With a relieved sigh, Mary put her hands on Ian’s shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said, reaching up to give him a hug.

As he embraced her, the front door opened. “Um, excuse me,”
a male voice grumbled from the doorway. “The door was unlocked, so I…”

Mary looked over and smiled. “Casey. Hi! It’s fine. Come on
in,” Mary said, inviting the
infamous ”
cute flooring
guy” into her house. “We were just leaving.”

Casey looked from Mary to Ian and slowly shook his head.
“Didn’t you just get married, earlier in the year?” he asked.
“To the chief of police?”

Confused for a moment, Mary finally realized that Casey must
have thought he had just walked in on a compromising situation, and she smiled.
“Casey, this is my good friend Professor Ian McDougal,” she said. “He’s in from
Chicago and spending a few days with us.”

“Ian McDougal,” Casey replied, turning the name over in his
mind for a moment. Then he looked at Ian and nodded. “Oh, yeah, you’re the guy
with the black shirt.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ian asked.

“Something my wife, Tammy, mentioned,” he replied. “She said
that if I ever met you, I should ask you where you bought it.”

Mary snorted and quickly placed her hand over her mouth.
“Actually, Bradley bought one,” she said, holding back her laughter. “And it’s
one of my favorite shirts. I’ll send Tammy the website.”

Ian was still confused. “My black shirt?” he asked Mary.
“What in the world…”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’ll have Gillian explain
it to you.”
 
She turned to Casey and
inclined her head towards Ian. “Gillian’s his fiancée, a lovely woman, and they
are very much in love.”

Casey nodded and Mary could see the relief in his face.
“Well, that’s good,” he said.

“And Bradley’s upstairs,” she added. “He’ll be down in a
minute to show you the floor.”

“Great,” Casey replied, and then he paused again. “I saw that
article about you in the paper.”

Holding her breath, Mary waited for the criticism but was
happily surprised with his response. “I think it’s cool that you help people
who can’t help themselves,” he said. “And I’ve been in enough old houses to
never doubt the reality of ghosts.”

“Well, someday we’re going to have to exchange stories,” she
said.

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

Walking over to the staircase, she called up to Bradley.
“Ian and I are leaving now and Casey’s here.”

“Okay, I’ll be down in a second,” Bradley replied. “You two
be
careful out there. Don’t take any risks—necessary or
not.”

“I promise,” she said. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he called back. “See you tonight.”

Mary picked up her purse and briefcase. “Okay, I’m ready,” she
said to Ian. “See you soon, Casey.”

“Thanks, Mary. Nice meeting you, Ian,” Casey replied.

“You, too,” Ian said, still slightly confused.
“And best of luck finding a black shirt.”

Ian and Mary walked outside and to Ian’s vehicle, because it
held all of the equipment in the back. “Tell me,” Ian said as they approached
the SUV. “Is it that difficult to find a good, black shirt in the States?”

Mary giggled and nodded. “You’d be surprised, Ian,” she
said. “You’d be surprised.”

Ian turned right on the road leading to Sol’s house in Pearl
City.
 
They both looked ahead to the old
Victorian with its turreted roof, clapboard shingles and gingerbread molding.
“Looks like a haunted house to me,” Ian said as he drove up the block.

“Looks like a house in need of a loving family to me,” Mary
replied.

Ian smiled at her. “Mary, you really need to start
developing your sense of drama,” he said.

She smiled and shook her head. “I think I have enough drama
in my life already.”

Sol was impatiently pacing in front of the house in Pearl
City when Ian’s vehicle pulled into the driveway.
 
Pointedly looking down at his watch and then
up at the SUV, Sol took a moment before he started to walk towards them.

“Testy fellow, isn’t he?” Ian remarked.

“Yeah, a real prince,” Mary muttered as she opened her door
and slid out.
 
She turned towards Sol,
nodded politely and then looked past him to the house.

“Are you sensing something yet?” Sol asked impatiently. “I’m
paying—”

Mary cut him off. “You are not paying,” she reminded him
curtly. “And the only thing I can sense right now is your agitation. So, you
need to calm down or this isn’t going to work at all.”

Obviously unused to being treated that way, Sol was shocked
into silence for a moment, but his thoughts were working overtime.
 
Who the
hell does this woman think she is, treating me like this?
  
Does she know who I am?
 
Does she understand how powerful I am?
 
I could make and break her career, the little
bitch.
 
I don’t need her…

But then, as he glanced at Ian carrying a large, black case
of electronic equipment out of the back of the SUV, he thought better of
it.
 
Damn
it, I do need her.
At least for now.

 
“Here, let me help
you with that,” Sol offered, moving over to the back of the vehicle.

“Thanks,” Ian said pleasantly. “I’d like to take them
directly into the house if that’s okay with you, but before we carry any
equipment in the house, there is the matter of the contract.”

“Contract?
What contract?” Sol
asked, immediately suspicious. “She told me that this wasn’t going to cost me
nothing.”

“This isn’t going to cost you anything,” Ian replied,
pulling the paperwork from a briefcase. “But this contract just states that you
are allowing me to videotape the inside of your house and to use the footage in
future presentations.”

“Like when he’s speaking to international groups about
paranormal phenomena,” Mary added. “All of the professional groups use
contracts like these; I’m surprised you didn’t know about them.”

Sol looked a little perplexed. “Well, yeah, I knew about
them,” he said, lying to save face. “I was just surprised that you knew about
them.”

“Ah, well, now that we have that cleared up,” Ian said.
“Once you sign it, you can start helping me lug the rest of the equipment
inside.”

Sol pulled a pen from his pocket, signed his name to the
last page of the contract and handed it to Mary. “So, where do you want the
equipment?” he asked.

“I’d like to take them directly into the house, if that’s
okay with you,” Ian asked.

Sol nodded. “Yes, yes, that’s fine,” he said. “The front
door is unlocked, and directly to your right is a parlor that might be a great
staging area.”

“Perfect,” Ian replied. “Mary, would you get the door for us?”

Mary hurried ahead and opened the door, letting Ian in first
before she followed after him into the house.
 
She stepped inside the front hallway and felt like she had been
transported in time back to a Midwestern depiction of the Victorian era. The
wallpaper had a maroon background with a flocked, floral pattern of black on
top.
 
The floors were covered with ornate
Oriental carpets, and the window furnishings were heavy, maroon
silk, jacquard curtains
festooned with black silk fringe. The tables and woodwork gleamed in rich,
highly polished oak, and the settees and chairs were delicate, velvet tufted
antiques.
 

She
stepped forward, the atmosphere dark and nearly stifling.

“Wow,”
she said. “This is not what I expected.”

“Reminds
me of some of the castles back home,” Ian replied, looking around the small
parlor he was in.
 
Mary followed him from
the hallway into the parlor and looked around. The walls were covered with
pictures and other artifacts suitable for the Victorian era.
 

“It’s
like walking into a museum,” Mary whispered.

“Someone
put a whole lot of money into setting a stage,” Ian said. “Well, hello there,”
he added, leaving his equipment and walking over to the fireplace mantle.

“What?”
Mary asked, following him over.

“Take
a look at this,” he said, pointing to a woven wreath hung in a place of honor
over the mantle.

“It’s
an ugly, black wreath,” Mary said, reaching up to touch the material.

“It’s
a funeral wreath,” he explained, “made out of the hair of the deceased family
member.”

“Oh,
gross!” Mary exclaimed, quickly pulling her hand away. “Do you have any hand
sanitizer?”

A
soft chuckle emanated from behind them, and Mary met Ian’s eyes. He
motioned
with his head in the direction of the staircase, and Mary walked over to see
Marty, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs. He waved at them. “Do you
like the house?” he asked.

“It’s certainly something,” Mary replied.

“Yeah, we wanted people to be transported when they walked
in,” he said.

Just then the door opened and Sol walked in with more
equipment. “Where do you want this stuff?” he growled.

Marty turned towards his former partner and glared at him. “How
can he just waltz in here like nothing happened when he knows good and well he
killed me to make some money?” he shouted.
 
He rushed forward and swung at Sol, his arm slipping completely through
Sol’s body.

Sol froze in the middle of the front hall, his eyes widening,
and turned to Mary and Ian. “I think I just felt something paranormal,” he
stammered.

“What did it feel like?” Mary asked, keeping her expression
neutral.

“Like something cold just went through my body,” he whispered.

Ian pulled a small notepad out of one of the pockets of his
briefcase. “How often do you have these feelings?” he asked professionally,
flipping the notepad open and pulling a pen from his pocket.

Sol, still standing in the same spot, slowly shook his head.
“I don’t think I’ve ever…” he paused and shook his head to clear it, realizing
what he was about to say. “I mean, I feel these kinds of things all the
time.
 
This is the second most haunted
house in Illinois.”

After jotting down the information, Ian looked up at Sol.
“Do you have this feeling often when you are in the front hallway or near the
staircase?” Ian asked.

Sol looked around at his surroundings nervously and then
hurriedly came into the parlor and put down the equipment he was carrying. “Why
is that important?” he asked.

“Well, I just want to ascertain where the main spikes of
paranormal activity are in the house,” Ian said
,
“to
make sure we put monitors in those areas so we can catch the readings.”

“Oh, okay,” Sol replied. “Well, yeah, sometimes when I’m in
the hallway I feel it.
 
I guess maybe the
ghost is greeting me when I walk in or something.”

Mary walked slowly around the front hallway, stopping
occasionally, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths before she continued on
to another spot.

“What is she doing?” Sol asked.

“I’m trying to sense the atmospheric fluctuations,” she
whispered harshly. “To see if I can tell if there is a ghost nearby.”

“I’m standing right next to you,” Marty said. “What’s wrong
with you?”

Mary turned away from Sol and shot Marty a warning look.
“Oh, you’re trying to fool Sol,” Marty said as the truth dawned on him. “Sorry.
Go ahead. You’re doing a great job.
 
Looks like what they do in the movies.”

Mary rolled her eyes and then stepped forward again.
 
This time she moaned softly.

“Mary, are you okay?” Ian asked, instantly alarmed. “Is it
the baby?”

Grateful her eyes were still closed so they couldn’t see her
laughter, Mary took another deep breath and then turned to Ian and Sol.
 
“I feel a great deal of fluctuation in this
area,” she said.
“As if someone died in this spot.”

She watched as Sol’s face blanched, but turned before he
could see that she noticed. “Do you have any historical data on the house?” she
asked. “Could there have been a murder here?
 
Perhaps a suicide?”

“Yeah, that’s what it was,” Sol agreed quickly.
“A suicide.
Some guy threw himself down the stairs about
fifty years ago.”

“Did not!”
Marty yelled.

Sol blanched even whiter. “Did you hear that?” he squeaked.

“Hear what?” Ian asked casually.

Sol shook his head. “Nothing,” he stammered.
“Must have been something from outside.”

“Great,” Ian replied. “Well, why don’t we start setting up
the equipment so we can get some readings on this ghost of yours?
 
Would you like to stay in here and start unloading
the equipment or go outside and grab the rest?
 
It should take another trip or two.”

I’ll go out,” Sol immediately offered, glancing around the
room. “I don’t mind carrying things in.”

Ian nodded and turned to unpacking until he heard the door
close behind them. Then he turned on Mary. “What in the world were you doing
back there?” he asked. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I was just developing my sense of drama,” she replied with
a smile.

He couldn’t help the returning grin. “Well, next time warn
me before you go on stage, okay?”

“Deal,” she said and then she turned to Marty. “You’re doing
a great job. Sol’s finally aware of you. But we don’t want you to be too active
in the house, because if you are, you’re giving Sol everything he wanted.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” Marty asked.

“Just hang around with us,” Mary said. “And we’ll let you
know what we need.”

“Okay, you just let me know,” he replied. “Just don’t make
me go into the dining room.”

“Why don’t you like the dining room?” Ian asked.

Marty shivered and began to fade away.
“Because
something else inhabits the dining room.”