Caraliza (20 page)

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Authors: Joel Blaine Kirkpatrick

BOOK: Caraliza
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The Papa Reisman Waterbury chest had not been opened in ages. The screech from the hinges gave witness to that. It also had not been handled as kindly as it should and things were a jumbled mess, not the neatly packed stacks of documents and jewels and such Shelly imagined. It did have documents, those were the biggest jumble, and it held photographic plates, in their holders for safekeeping. Aside from the padding and a beautiful red cloth on the bottom, there was nothing else of interest. Shelly looked disappointed.

Don’t you think it has been robbed long before now? If your great grandfather hid anything of value, it would have been taken out,” Evan said, as she laid the papers about his legs.

You don’t know my clan…this is major sacrilege to us, this violation I’m making. Papa was said to go crazy because if the contents of this box. It’s powerful stuff and Reismans won’t disturb that.” Then she grinned and tossed Evan a folded paper, “At least none of the good Reismans would disturb this. I’m not in that group anymore because of what happened to you.”

You didn’t do this. I know that perfectly well, even if I can’t tell you exactly how it happened.”

Do you want to talk about that?”

Fuck no!”

 

Shelly took out everything but the plates and the cloth under them and they began to look through the papers that were such a mess. Shockingly, the first thing she put her hands onto was the original deed to the building, Papa’s strong signature on the back under a seal. It was dated 1889; Papa would have been about twenty. He purchased the building thirty years or so before the murders.

What odds do you think were against us pulling this out of here, right off the bat?” she taunted Evan, as she handed him the deed.
His eyes grew to enormous size, and he admitted her family was so superstitious it was incredible. His family would have snatched such a document in their greedy hands, the day after the old man was buried.
They continued to look about, and found old receipts, pages out of a few catalogs, then a few more family documents, and some photos. There was a marriage certificate, but Shelly did not recognize the family names. Probably just someone lost in the mist of history, as she liked to say. But as she moved other ordinary items out of the way, she spied a newspaper clipping, only it was not clipped, it was roughly torn from the page of the newspaper. Shelly was astonished again. The New York Times printed a lengthy story about the murders in the shop.
They happened in July.

 

She showed the print to Evan, and he seemed unimpressed. She took it to mean he
really
did not want to have ghosts become any part of the conversations, so she took it back, but folded it, and put it in her back pocket. She then found three more deeds, in an envelope, and Evan was very interested in those. While she started sorting out the various photo prints, Evan looked over the deeds, and a few moments later, he began to wave at her, to get her attention.

Did you know your Papa owned the building to the west, just across the alley, and two building right across the street?”
Shelly dropped the stack of photos in her hand, and moved up to Evan’s shoulder, to look at the three deeds with him. She was feeling nervous tingles all over, because this
was
a major secret. It had never been said her entire life that Papa owned anything but the Reisman Portraits.

Look at this, Sweetheart; he bought these starting about five or six years after the studio. They were just lots, or at least the descriptions only mention the lots. The studio deed mentions the building. He didn’t build that. He must have built the others though after he bought the ground.”

Papa was never wealthy enough for that!” Shelly insisted. “Our entire history is based on his being dirt poor his entire life. Famous, but dirt poor. That is why the history is so fascinating. Everyone knew him, but he never seemed able to keep a dime for himself.”

Then why did he own such a chunk of his own block, and even more on the block across the street?”

We never knew he did, so I can’t even guess.”
Then her mood changed and he was not prepared for the swing. She had been positive and bright a few moments before and suddenly she was dejected.

 


They want to take it away from me, Evan.”

Take what?”

The studio. My folks were talking last night, the stuff that happened to you the other day, all the trouble. They just want to clean it out and sell it.”
Evan noticed she wanted to cry, and he really hated he could not move well enough to hold her. She explained the gathering she walked into the day before, and how much she hated she might lose it all.
He could tell, he might have died, and she would have mourned him as a devoted girlfriend should, but the loss of the Reisman Portraits would crush the life out of Shelly. That would have to be changed, after more time with her, loving her. At some point, he would have to come first. Whether the building liked it or not. They put everything back in the chest after that; she was no longer in the mood to snoop into Papa’s secrets.

 

Evan’s narcotics blocked his dreams, and helped him sleep. It was good he had them, his nightmares would have sent him screaming into the halls. Shelly had no such help, and she did not have Evan to hold her during the night, as her fears began to torment her; Shelly dreamed - and they were not pleasant. The building called to Evan and not to her. She dreamed she stood sobbing in the darkroom closet, listening to the voices upstairs, calling to him. If Evan would come. She heard it call to him. If Evan would come.
She wanted to wake, but could not move. It called him again, and she was desperate to wake now, she struggled to wake. She did. She realized she was standing naked in the sepia glow, in the middle of the shop, and the building was silent and heavy all around her. A drop of cold perspiration slowly rolled down her side. Whimpering, she followed the trail of her clothes to the door and hurried to dress. Her car was at the curb, the engine still running, and the door stood wide open.

 

The Bryant clan filed a complaint against Shelly. It arrived at her father’s office one morning. Evan received his injuries in her building, because of dangerous conditions, and they wanted it condemned. Her dad, Richard Reisman, laughed it off, the inspections she ordered done, a month or so before, made that claim ridiculous on its own face. But he was not happy the Bryants started that way. They intended to get at the Reismans in small, pinprick jabs, and annoying legal papers.
Shelly told him to just talk to Evan and put the whole thing right, but he laughed at that too. It would cause much more trouble if he said anything to Evan about legal issues like that. Evan could stop it all, once he knew about it, but he would have to do it on his own, the Reismans would keep quiet to him about any letters from any Bryant lawyers. He told Shelly, she need not worry, the building insurance policy would take care of Evan’s medical bills, they just needed to get the adjuster over there, so he could see what happened, and verify the policy would cover the claim.
Shelly suddenly looked guilty, and had to admit, she cleaned the entire room up just a few days before. It was an unhappy confession, her father was upset she went back there alone, but the adjuster was called anyway. Shelly had an appointment for the very next morning, and she had better make sure she was there.

 


Dad, I got into Papa’s chest at the hospital with Evan,” she admitted. “Papa Reisman kept the original deed to the building in there. I have it now.” Her father was almost as stunned to hear it, as she had been to see the document herself. That was truly a treasure, and he hoped she would share it with the family.

Won’t matter, will it anymore, if the studio is going to be sold and I can’t keep it?” she asked him. He was quiet and she hated that. “Please, Dad, I can’t lose her now. I have too much life there, and she deserves it. No one ever gave a shit for the place and I’ve waited so long to change that.” He still said nothing, and it made her feel the awful dread all over again.
Her dad wanted to tell her there was nothing to worry about; he wanted to say it very badly. Shelly was always the perfect daughter, constantly in trouble at school, hundreds of friends and not a single boyfriend worth a spit until Evan showed up. She cost him an untold amount of money on cars she could never drive without crashing, and - she was the sweetest kid he ever had to punish, and it felt like he was punishing her now.
Richard could not stop the sale of the building if the clan desired it. Too many names were involved because of the passage of time. She might have Papa’s original deed, but it was worthless the day he died and his will gave the estate to other hands. Shelly might have her Dad on her side in the matter, but she was on the weaker side still. He could not tell her that. So he said nothing to make his little girl feel any better. It was probably the first time Richard was unable to do that for her, whatever the problem might have been, he seemed always been able to make her smile.

 

Evan was a little brighter when she stopped by at dinnertime that night. He was going home the next day. The hospital said he would be fine, if he took it easy for another couple of weeks, no bike riding, and no driving because of the pain medication, no sex, no leaning over to lift anything heavy, no hats…

Did you say no sex?”

Well, I was just checking that you were listening,” he poked her.

What the hell made you think there would be any, anyway?”

We are just way beyond any normal number of dates to make it appropriate we take that next step. After all that we’ve been through? I mean, look at me! You might not have much time left to try this.”

You sound stupid when you try diplomacy,” she made a gesture, as if to bonk his head, “I say when - you say how. No other deal possible, you got that?”

Well then, I say…at my place, on the floor in the living room, with all the lights on?”

Tomorrow night after dinner. You want pizza or Chinese?”

 

Evan did not like the nuisance complaint against Shelly when his mother told him about it. He warned her, it was like enraging an elephant; the Reismans would crush them. Besides, her dad already made all the arrangements for the bills to be sent to his office, and the insurance was taking care of everything. They were only stirring up trouble they could not manage well; nothing had been Shelly’s fault.
His mother was not happy; he needed to be more practical - she told him. He shushed her finally, by saying, Shelly was part of his life - until Shelly decided to change that; no one else had a say. He made matters worse when he told her to go home after she dropped him off at his apartment the next morning. He was spending the evening with Shelly, and that was all the doctoring or mothering he needed. When she left, he still struggled with the nagging feeling his mom wanted to cause more trouble somehow.
He phoned the studio as soon as he was alone, and was surprised the phone was not answered. Shelly was supposed to be there, meeting the insurance adjuster. After calling around a bit and leaving a few messages, Evan decided to lie down on the couch, and give her a chance to finished running around. He was nearly dozing off when the phone rang and he answered it, with some naughty statements, being sleepy, and dumb enough to think it was Shelly.

 

It wasn’t, it was Grandma Sareta.
Evan was mortified. The laughter on her end of the phone was musical and lasted a minute before she told him why she called. She declined his naughty offer, and hoped Shelly was smart enough to take him up on it in her stead. She first explained she pried his number from her granddaughter, she was not a snoop, but it was time he answered some questions for her, which simply could not wait. Being a bit regretful for the personal things he just said to her in greeting, Evan gushed - yes, sure, he would be happy to answer some questions, and then his mind cleared. He was gritting his teeth when she asked the first question.
What had happened upstairs in the attic?
There could be no wiggle room, he had to either make her mad and decline, which would cause an avalanche of ill feelings, or he could tell her things he did not want to feel again in the telling of them. He begged Sareta not to make him go through that. She was firm, and insistent. He must understand, she said, the future of the studio was in jeopardy, and it might be sold if the place were truly dangerous. They wanted nothing to do with a haunting that harmed people, and the clan would rid themselves of the place by sale, or by fire.
Evan was squirming, begging again to be released from his agreement to answer. But the silence was damning. He owed this to Shelly, and, he told Sareta that was the only reason he would say a word about it, and it would be his last, he vowed. She agreed, he would only have Shelly to discuss any of it with, because it happened to her as well.

 

Evan burst unheeding into the attic storeroom because he was convinced Shelly was there. The voice was too real, too female, in too much pain to be ignored. He said, the stillness in the room when he entered, covered him like a menacing darkness, and it was almost impossible to see where he was, because his mind became numb with fear. The only thing he could see clearly, was the empty corner where Shelly should have been, and the thought she was still in danger, was the source of his fear. He was desperate to find her, but terrified he could not protect her.

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