A Ghost at Stallion's Gate (11 page)

“Do you have cats?” I asked.

“Two, they’re black and both have short hair, they’re siblings. I call them Heckle and Jeckle. They’re around here somewhere. After we settle in, they’ll probably come out of hiding. Are cats okay with you?” Gracie asked me.

“I like cats.”

Alex felt the need to give further assurance and said, “Shannon has a way with animals. My big guy, Atlas, adores her.”

I looked at Alex and was truly grateful he stepped in and tried to neutralize a situation. I gave him a weak smile. Then I turned to Gracie and said, “I’ll try to explain what happened to me in that theater.”

“Do you mind if I record you?” Gracie asked.

“Go right ahead.” I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts. The last thing I wanted to appear as was irrational. “First, when we entered the auditorium and I looked up at the two chandeliers directly above us, well, I saw them light up, ever so dimly and twinkle. Also, some air movement caused the crystal drops and beads to sway, just a little.”

“Anything else occur at that moment?” Gracie asked.

“No, but Alex saw it too.”

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Alex commented and then explained, “It was just as Shannon described. It was those two chandeliers, no others. When it happened, I immediately scanned the entire ceiling. No other lights twinkled or moved. I think that rules out an earthquake or a sonic boom. And besides, there was no mistaking that the chandeliers were lit.”

Gracie’s eyes widened and she said, “Wow. Shannon, what else happened?”

“Well, when I thought it was Alex who tried to pull me up from my seat, it felt like a person, probably a man, had gripped my right hand and jerked me up. My mind raced and of course I couldn’t imagine it was anyone but Alex. Right away I thought he was teasing me. Then when I raised my voice at him, all of the sudden the person let go of me.” I turned to Alex, “I’m sorry. I know better than to think you would do that.”

“All things considered, all you owe me is another date.”

Gracie howled with laughter. “Just like a man, use any advantage he can get a hold of.”

Her remark lightened the atmosphere and I laughed too, though I could tell Alex was not enjoying our amusement.

Alex cleared his throat and asked, “What do we do next?”

“Well,” Gracie explained, “we need to listen to all of our voice recorders and pay special attention to the time frame leading up to, during and after the incident of Shannon being grabbed. And we should check our cameras as well. If you like, we can download all the pics into my computer and then I’ll have the photo tech guy in our paranormal investigation group study the pics?”

“I didn’t take photos,” I confessed. “I forgot about doing so.”

“Did you have your camera out?” Gracie asked.

“No, it stayed in my purse.”

“Uh, okay. And you, Alex, did you take photos?”

“Yeah,” Alex answered. He pulled out his digital camera and extracted the flash memory drive. He handed it over to Gracie. “All you need is this. Only photos from tonight are on that drive.”

“Thanks,” Gracie said and then added, “I have extra sets of earphones, if each of us wants to listen to the recorders right now?”

We agreed and with Gracie advising us on technique
we sat still for the next hour listening. Every time I heard an unidentified sound, I stopped my recorder and made a note of the count number from the recorder’s playback. I noticed Gracie and Alex had also taken this kind of action. We finished within in a
few minutes of each other.

Gracie looked up from her notepad and said, “I’ll get warm ups for our coffee.” She retreated to her kitchen.

After she was out of earshot, I whispered to Alex, “This is weird, just plain weird. Alex I cannot believe the sounds and voices that are on my recorder.”

Chapter 20

I cupped the mug of hot coffee, sipped and then looked to Gracie for instructions.

“Shannon, would you go first?” Gracie asked.

“Sure.” I put aside the coffee mug and set my voice recorder on the coffee table between us. Next, I turned on the recorder to speaker and upped the volume. I quickly forwarded it to the first EVP.

An unidentified male voice said, “Do not taunt the spirits.”

I said, “At this point, I’m pretty sure we had just entered the auditorium and were standing where Alex and I saw the chandeliers light up and move.”

“I agree,” Alex said. “In fact, I got a similar EVP, and I estimate it to have been recorded at the same time and place.”

Alex set his recorder on the table, turned up the volume and let it play.

An unidentified female voice said, “Do not tease us.”

“I got nothing like that,” Gracie announced. “The first EVP I recorded did not happen until the fourth question I asked. Here, take a listen.”

We heard Gracie ask if anyone knew of the actress Marla Devereux. And several unidentified voices, three, maybe four or more shouted out.

“Gorgeous gams,” shouted a male voice

“Ritzy vamp,” remarked a female voice

“So hotsy totsy,” said a female voice.

“She’s all Sheba, that one,” declared a male voice.

“Sway’em to the left, sway’em to the right,” sang a male voice.

Next, faint music played a tune. I thought it sounded like a piano and I suggested this as a possibility.

Alex said, “I think you’re right about that Shannon. It sounds like a piano. I wonder if it was live music or if it was being played on a Victrola.” Alex paused for a moment and then said, “I’ve heard that tune before. I do believe Irma has played it. I bet if I take this recording back to the Magic Castle, I can get Irma to identify it.”

“Who is Irma?” I asked.

Gracie broke out laughing and then said, “Shannon, now we really are dealing in the paranormal. Irma is the ghost for the player piano at the castle. She can play any song on a moment’s notice. I was there recently and before the name Scott Joplin had left the tip of my tongue, Irma was tickling the piano keys to the tune of The Entertainer, one of Joplin’s most beloved and popular jazz tunes.”

I turned to Alex and said, “You’re joking?”

He said, “Yes and no. Irma is the name of the ghost who plays the piano in the front parlor of the Magic Castle. As the story goes, in 1908, the Lane family built the mansion that today is the Magic Castle. It was customary in that era to have a piano in the parlor. And though no one in the Lane family was particularly talented on the piano, a friend of the family, a woman named Irma, loved playing it. She loved it so much that the family grew weary of Irma’s ever present presence in their home and retired the piano to a private upstairs room. Discouraged and most likely feeling ostracized, Irma broke off relations with the Lane family. Irma died in 1932 and supposedly, she said she would forever play that piano whenever she wished. Much later, when the home became the Magic Castle, the piano was found in an upstairs room, it was restored and placed back in the parlor. Now, in the Magic Castle, Irma is welcome to play it whenever and however much she cares to. Needless to say, Irma can be heard playing that piano at all hours of the day and night. Most of us, magicians and staff, suspect that Irma prefers the times when guests have crowded into the parlor to hear her play. Irma is always accommodating to song requests and to the best of my memory, she has never failed to render a request.”

I stared at Alex, not knowing what to believe. Was he trying to convince me that a ghost named Irma was still playing a piano and doing so for the pure joy of entertainment? And, that he could actually ask Irma for her opinion about a song? “Alex, there is some catch to this, some explanation that is earthbound in reality, right?” I asked.

Alex did not give me an answer and instead he countered with a challenge by asking, “You don’t believe in ghosts?”

His tease did not deserve my attention. I ignored Alex and looked to Gracie and said, “I will research the phrases that we heard in order to determine if they have a meaning unique to the time and culture of the 1920s, when Marla would have been onstage. And if Alex can get a lead on the song and lyrics then maybe we’ll have more to go on. As for any more EVPs, I have one more.” I adjusted the recorder to the next phantom sound.

“Come back,” a woman’s voice whispered.

“This occurred just as we were leaving, right before we stepped outside the theater,” I explained.

There was no mistaking Gracie’s look of concern. “Play it again,” she requested. And so I did.

“Nothing like that showed up on my recorder. Alex?” Gracie asked.

Alex shook his head no and then he leaned forward and took my recorder in his hand, he replayed the EVP voice. He turned to me and said, “Shannon, I believe this was meant for your ears only. I have nothing like this on my recorder. In fact, other than the EVP about not teasing the spirits, my only other recording was of footsteps. However, because they occur at times when we three or us two were walking about, I’d be reluctant to say they are phantom footsteps.” Alex played the footstep EVPs, and sure enough each time footsteps sounded, we were walking about.

“Hmm, I got similar footsteps and I agree with Alex. I suspect they are our own footsteps. So, for now, we’ve heard all the EVPs?”

“That’s all I have,” I answered.

“Yeah, me too,” Alex said.

Gracie stood up and said, “For now that’s all we can do. Like I said, I’ll have my pics and Alex’s scrutinized by our tech guy. And maybe we can talk about this again in a day or two?”

“Sure, sounds good to me. I’ll wait for you to call me.” I stood up. “Thanks Gracie. This was an adventure unlike any other I’ve been on.”

Gracie smiled and said, “Then, Shannon, you’d be willing to go back to the Regency, I mean, it seems like someone there wants you to return?”

Gracie was sincere, and I hated to tell her that I was not enthusiastic about another visit to the Regency, under any circumstance, so for now I compromised with my hesitancy and simply said, “I’ll consider it.” Alex stood beside me, lightly jingling his car keys in hand.  I gave Gracie a hug and I wished her sweet dreams, it was a small blessing on my part considering the spooky stuff she deals with.

On the drive back to my cottage I asked Alex to explain about the Santa Muerte shop that we passed when walking to the Regency.

“It’s complicated, in a similar manner that Voo Doo is in New Orleans. There are legitimate followers of the faith, but with others, it’s a cover for illegal activity, especially with the Hispanic gangs in Los Angeles.”

“How do you know when it’s legit and when it’s covert?” I asked.

“You don’t and neither do I. It is best not to inquire into it,” Alex said in a serious tone.

I sat in silence during the last few minutes of the drive. When we pulled up to my cottage, I turned to Alex and said; “I can see myself in.”

Chapter 21

I woke the next morning with one thought on my mind, Friday at last. I was to meet with Curtis Strong, the director of the Pasadena Conservancy at nine this morning. He was the person who would sign my paycheck for this assignment. After a quick breakfast I grabbed my work portfolio and dashed off to meet Mr. Strong. I arrived at his office in downtown Pasadena at nine on the dot.

After a brief greeting, I gave Mr. Strong the brochure materials I had created. I sat quietly across from his desk as he scrutinized my work. He was a man of few words. I kept expecting him to ask me a question or two, but that was not the scenario, at all.

Fifteen minutes passed before he looked up from the paperwork, reached into his desk drawer, then pulled out a small envelope and handed it to me.

“I hope you will find this adequate,” is all he said.

I accepted the envelope and throwing business etiquette and caution to the wind, I opened it up and withdrew the check. To be sure, the look on my face must have been palatable. Mr. Strong immediately stood up and asked, “Miss Delaney, are you okay?”

With both hands I gestured to him to sit down and I caught my breath. “I’m fine, really. Mr. Strong, this payment is a mistake. You’ve over paid me by five thousand dollars.”

“Actually, Miss Delaney, part of that check is an advance, of sorts.”

“Oh?” I said, totally perplexed. “But I have completed the entire brochure.”

Yes, indeed you have. As the director, I am exceptionally pleased with the brochure. I know the board will be, too. You see, we, the board of the Pasadena Conservancy, were recently enlightened to a situation that has occurred in regard to the history of Stallion’s Gate. We would like you to pursue your interest in this unique situation.”

“Uh, do you mean the pasture and the horse skeleton that was found?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m not clear about what you are asking of me?”

“Hmm, let’s just say, we would like for you to continue to follow your natural instinct and talent to further your research into this matter.”

“Mr. Strong, in all due respect, sir, but I believe there may have been highly suspect activity that occurred at Stallion’s Gate in the 1920s. And I’m not one to misdirect the facts and findings.”