Dead Sure?: A Paranormal Mystery (24 page)

“What is it, Jack, does that name mean something to you?” she asked her demeanor softening some.

“No,” he replied, all too quickly to be convincing. Catching himself, he went on, “I just was having trouble making out the handwriting on the page.”

“If that’s the case, read some more already,” her impatience returning.

I would have a talk with his parents if I didn’t need his help. Then again, they probably don’t care about him anyway or they’d know more about his whereabouts.

I think it’s time for me to hide this accursed medallion. I am tired of trying to destroy it, and failing repeatedly. I fear it will be used again in the worst kind of way if I don’t take some action now. 

“That’s it, doesn’t it say something about where he hid it? Not even a little clue or something? It sure seems to end abruptly,” she said, a rage boiling just beneath the cool surface she was trying to pervade.

“If you don’t believe me, see for yourself,” he said tossing the journal to her.

She swatted it to the floor angrily, her eyes spitting fire. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“What’s come over you, Rene? One minute we’re having a great time, and now it’s like you’re a different person. A person I really don’t care for much.”

“Well, that’s just too bad, isn’t it,” she retorted. With that she downed the whiskey in her glass and slammed it down on the table. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have things to do.” She got up and headed for the door.

“Wait a minute, Rene, I want an explanation, what’s going on here?” he said, the urgency in his voice climbing.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” She was past the hall and down the back stairs before Jack could even make a move to stop her.

As he exited the back door Rene was already in her car, the two headlights piercing the rain like eyes staring back at him. The motor revved angrily as he came running towards the car, motioning for Rene to wait.

The tires squealed as they tried to grab hold of the wet concrete beneath them. The treads kicked up pebbles and dirt, throwing it in Jack’s direction as they struggled to find their grip. The tires finally taking hold, Rene began a harrowingly fast retreat backwards down the long drive.

Jack stood there in disbelief, the rain pouring down on him in torrents. His emotions were so mixed up he didn’t know what he was feeling anymore.

The car reached the end of the driveway and flew out into the street. Sliding backwards, it narrowly missed hitting a parked car before switching directions and racing off.

*    *    *

Across town a man stood out in the gloomy-dark rain staring up at the Horner Bank building. He was uttering some curse under his breath, pacing backwards and forwards along the sidewalk in front of it so intently that he didn’t see the car headlights coming at him until it was almost too late.

At the last possible second, the stranger became cognizant of what was going on and jumped sideways, slipping and falling on the wet concrete. The effort was just enough, as the car that was careening down the sidewalk at a high rate of speed merely clipped him, throwing him further out of harm’s way before slamming into a large metal street lamp. 

The noise was deafening as metal twisted and broke, glass flying everywhere. The smell of rubber and oil assaulted his nose as he picked himself up off the ground and began to limp towards the car. The vehicle hadn’t gone much further after hitting him before meeting up with the post.

Getting to the yellow Beetle, the man tried to pull the door open. The frame was bent and it was not going to budge. Who was it that wanted to kill him? He had to know now! Taking a dark heavy object from his pocket, the stranger smashed the driver’s side window out. He was shocked to see a blond-haired lady slumped over the steering wheel, looking as lifeless as the air bag that was hanging there.

Forgetting his rage for a moment, the man pulled his cell phone from an inside coat pocket and dialed 911. His leg was beginning to throb, and the realization hit him that he might be hurt worse than he originally suspected.

*    *    *

Sam walked briskly into the hospital room. “Rene, are you all right, what happened?” he said softly, a look of compassion and fear spreading across his face.

Rene opened her eyes groggily, and gave a small smile.

An older grey-haired physician standing in the room answered the questions first. “She was involved in some type of car accident, and has minor bruising and a moderate concussion.” Seeing the look of concern on Sam’s face worsen, the doctor added, “she’s going to be just fine after some rest. We’re going to keep her here overnight just for good measure.”

“Sam, come sit down by me,” Rene said weakly, wincing as she put a hand to her forehead.

The doctor finished noting something on the chart and exited the room.

“Sam, I’m so scared, I don’t remember a thing about what happened tonight. Their telling me I was in a car crash, but I don’t even remember getting in my car,” she concluded, a small stream of tears welling up in her eyes. The first one rolled gently down her cheek.

Trying as much to convince himself as her, Sam replied, “I’m sure there is some type of reasonable explanation for the whole thing. Why don’t we start with what you do remember?”

All I can remember is being at Jack’s having a great time, but I can’t tell Sam that. Why did I even call Sam and not Jack? Come to think of it, I can barely remember doing even that. Maybe somebody else called Sam. That’s got to be it; they probably just found his number on my cell phone. Oh god, I hope they didn’t call Jack too. I’m not up to all of this and having them both find out about each other now, not like this, the time just isn’t right.

“Look, it isn’t much. I was at home getting ready to grab a fast food dinner and run some errands,” she said shakily.

At that moment Steve Yates limped into the room. He was using a crutch to help support himself, and the rubber bottom made a squeaking sound each time it hit the floor.

Sam and Rene looked at him in astonishment. “Steve, what are you doing here, what a coincidence that you are in the hospital on the same night.”

“Sam, it really isn’t a coincidence at all. The fact is I am here because of the same incident Rene was involved in.”

Rene grimaced slightly, “You are? Can you tell me about it?”

“I am going to do just that. Sam, I’ll need you to excuse us for a few minutes, I need to speak with Rene in private.”

For a man who had just been involved in some kind of accident, Mr. Yates seemed unnaturally calm to Sam. To the contrary, he seemed almost pleased about it.               “Sure, I’ll just head down to the gift shop and pick you up some flowers. Rene, I’ll be back shortly.”

When Sam had left, Steve hobbled over and shut the door. Turning back towards Rene, Yates looked like the preverbal cat that had swallowed the canary. Coming back over to the bed, he sat down where Sam had been; leaning over closely he began to speak quietly but clearly. “You ran me over with your car tonight. Why you did it, I’m not sure. I surmise it must have something to do with the old bank building and that screwy boss of yours. What I do know is that you did it deliberately, it was no accident. Seeing me, you drove up on the sidewalk, stomped on the accelerator, and gave it your best shot. Fortunately for me and for you, that wasn’t good enough.” He shook his head slightly in disgust.

Rene felt a peculiar curiosity rising up in her. “That story sounds outlandish,” she said, trying as much to convince herself as him.

“It doesn’t really matter how it sounds to you, it matters how it sounds to the police. The fact that it’s true means it can be proved. Now, I’m not an unfeeling person. If you are willing to go see this shrink friend of mine and get some help, I would be receptive to the idea of telling the story in a way that made it appear accidental.”

“You’d do that for me?” tears began to form again.

“I will, but you must see Dr. Turismo and get some help. I wouldn’t want anybody else getting hurt or killed.”

“That name sounds familiar. She is one of the doctors that I answer phones for. I would be embarrassed to see someone I have to work with. I’ll see somebody else, though.”

“No, you won’t.” Steve began to shake his finger in Rene’s face, “Let me tell you this, if you don’t want things to turn out badly you will see her.”

Rene dug in, “No, I won’t!”

Steve leaned back calmly thinking of a different approach. “Let me sweeten the deal for you, Rene. I’ll skip giving good old Jack a call right now if you agree.”

“What?” she squeaked out meekly.

“I know you have been dating Jack and Sam, and that they both are unaware. What a shame it would be for them to find out now, under these circumstances. I’m sure Jack would be most displeased to find that you called Sam first. Don’t you agree?”

A look of defeat on her face, Rene replied, “Fine, I’ll see Dr. Turismo first thing Monday.”

“Excellent, I knew you could be reasonable. I have to leave now, get some rest, I know you’ll feel better soon.”

*    *    *

Walking to his car, Steve’s mind began to drift off into thought.

I knew that ace up my sleeve about two boyfriends would come in handy. Now, I’ll get all the information I need when she starts blabbing to Shelby. Then, I can finally get to the bottom of all this nonsense, and get my project back on track.

I still can’t figure out why she tried to kill me. Rene seems like a sensible lady, a bit of a goody-two-shoes activist maybe, but not a killer. I almost could have sworn it wasn’t her driving the car. It looked for a moment like a dark haired lady with eyes of fire. That’s probably just what my imagination cooked up from adrenalin, and being blinded by those headlights. I’m the person who opened up the car immediately after the crash, and it was clearly this Rene woman. Yet still, no wait, it couldn’t be, that’s just crazy. I won’t even allow my mind to stray in that direction.

It’s time to celebrate; dating Dr. Shelby Grand Turismo is going to start paying off extra dividends, just like I knew it would.

Chapter 20
Monday September 16
th
, 1929

Monday September 16
th
, 1929

Tim continued to stand there; nothing miraculous was happening. He closed his eyes and concentrated harder on thoughts of home. He could see his precious daughter’s face as if she were standing there in front of him, beautiful little Rene Melissa Landers. Sweet little Missy, as he called her. He had to get back. Momentarily, Tim became aware of a burning pain shooting from the hand squeezing the medallion up his arm.

The discomfort became unbearable and instinct took over, forcing him to release his grip on the medallion, dropping it to the ground with a disheartening thud.

His eyes wide open again with his attention back to the here and now, Tim starred at his hand. Slowly, he turned it over. There were slight burns where the medallion had been, both on his palm and where his fingers had been clutching it. He realized if he hadn’t let go of it, the burns would have been worse.

Bending down, he tried picking it up.
Ouch, damn it!
Tim pulled his fingers back, shaking them. Strangely it was still very hot to the touch.

What is with this damn thing? Could I be using it wrong? I don’t remember doing anything different the first time. The only difference was I had no idea anything was going to happen.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and folded it carefully to create a thick spot, he picked up the medallion. It was finally starting to cool down.

The kid watched curiously, standing not very far off.
I recognize that ugly looking coin. What’s with this guy? He acts like it’s magical or something. It’s just an unsightly hunk of junk. Hell, I was lucky to get that stupid coin dealer to buy it off me. Did he sell it to this sap, and if he did why was this guy looking for the coin in the bushes? This whole thing stinks.

Tim looked at the medallion intensely on one side the evil dragon glared back at him as if it were saying, “Just try it again, and see what happens.” The creature was taunting him with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. Tiring of the dragon’s evil eye, he began to study the other side again. There were Chinese symbols on it, which meant absolutely nothing to him. He wasn’t a coin collector, and had never studied them.
Maybe this thing is cursed and the writing is some type of warning, or understanding the writing could lead to using this thing properly. Now, what’s the best way to do that?
Tim nodded to himself,
I’m pretty sure I spotted a coin shop nearby on some of my walks.

Touching the coin carefully and quickly with his left hand, he realized all of the heat had dissipated. Taking it out of the handkerchief, he gave the disc an indignant look before placing it in his pocket. With that, he began walking in the direction of the coin store, not noticing the kid who continued to shadow him.

*    *    *

Angela walked down to the book room. It was about time to call it quits for the day. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that she wouldn’t see Tim again.
If I’m a realist when I walk in there and don’t see him, I won’t be surprised. I’d really like to be wrong about this.

Passing through the outer office façade, she sped up in anticipation. She entered the lavishly furnished book room, only to find it empty. Tim wasn’t here, exactly as she had feared. The emptiness of the room mirrored her feelings. She sighed, leaving the room and heading back up to her own office looking for some hustle and bustle to distract her.

*    *    *

It didn’t take Tim long to find his way to the coin shop he had remembered seeing. It was about five minutes to five as he hurried toward the door, hoping the place would still be open.

Silently praying, he gave the door a tentative tug. He needed information now! The urgency of his thoughts made it feel like life or death. Much to his relief, the door swung open easily, the shop wasn’t closed. A bell jangled merrily, moving with the door.

A gruff voice greeted him, as he squinted trying to get used to the dingy little place. “I’m about to close up for the night.”

“Sir, if I could just have a few minutes of your time, I’d really appreciate it.”

The man’s sincerity struck the old shopkeeper. “Fine, I guess I’m not in that much of a hurry. What can I do for you?”

Reaching into his pocket, Tim pulled out the medallion. He was starting to develop a loathing for it. “This medallion, coin, or whatever it is, can you tell me anything about it, anything at all?” He knew he shouldn’t sound so desperate, but couldn’t manage to disguise his feelings.

The old shopkeeper’s face regarded him, taking his measure. “Why do you want to know,” he asked, grey mutton chops bobbing with the movement of his jaw.

Tim looked the old man directly in the eyes, trying to stay calm and focused. “I can’t give you a lot of details that you would believe. I can tell you sincerely that it is extremely important to me, and the information could help myself and others.”

Staring back at Tim intently with his large grey eyes, the old man began to speak, “I believe you are telling me the truth, and I’m going to help you.” He paused momentarily, coughing a little and trying to clear his throat. “The funny thing is, a week ago I would have said truthfully I know nothing about that piece.” His eyes drifted down to the medallion as he took it tentatively out of Tim’s hand.

Giving the man a peculiar expression, Tim asked, “Huh, what do you mean?”

“Until recently, I have never seen a coin or whatever quite like it. It’s one heck of a miserable looking piece, don’tcha think?”

“Yes, I couldn’t argue that point.”

“It just so happens, a few days back a kid came in here with that very coin. A kid very much like,” he squinted, looking past Tim through the front store windows. “Like that one out front now.” He came from behind the counter, rapidly heading toward the front door.

Tim turned, seeing the kid as well. Something struck him; he had seen that kid today several times, now that he was thinking about it. He began hustling with the shopkeeper towards the door.

The kid started walking slowly at first away from the store front. As the door to the shop opened, the kid quickened his pace, trying not to look anxiously back.   

“Sonny, hold up there a minute,” said the old man in a stern tone.

The kid began a full out sprint, whipping around the corner and out of sight, before Tim could get another look at him.

“Kids nowadays!” the old man said crossly. “They have no respect for authority. I wouldn’t have dared to run off like that back in my day.”

Tim shook his head smirking to himself.
If this guy could see the future, he’d really be disgusted.

The two men turned and stepped back inside the shop.

“Now, where was I? Oh yeah, I was telling you about this coin and that very kid.”

“What about them?” asked Tim, trying to stay calm and patient. His desire to know was starting to get the better of him.

“He came in here with that coin, wanting to sell it to me. I didn’t really know what to make of the thing. I asked the boy if he would like to leave it with me, so I could do some research and determine a fair value. The kid would have none of that. Now that I think about it, he was rather skittish about the whole transaction. In the end I thought the piece was intriguing, and I offered him twenty-five cents for it.” The old shopkeeper paused, looking off into the distance as if trying to remember what happened next.

“I’m going to assume he took the twenty-five cent offer.”

“You’d be right about that. The boy jumped at it and left me staring at this monstrosity.”

“Why do you say it like that, what happened next?”

“Well, I put the coin aside for a day before beginning my research on it. It just kept sort of calling to me in a bad kind of way. I know a young guy like you would probably laugh about that kind of drivel.”

“No, trust me, I wouldn’t.”

“So, I start trying to find something out about this medallion, but none of the books were very helpful. Next, I went to the library and looked at their coin books too, but still nothing.”

“It sounds like frustrating research,” Tim said empathetically.

“It sure was, until I decided to look up Chinese symbols and tried to decipher the back of this thing. Several books later, I was able to match the symbols up and it turns out the words are a famous Chinese curse.” The old storekeeper began coughing and wheezing, his eyes watering slightly. Turning, he reached for a small glass of water that was sitting on a back table.

The timing of this small outburst gave Tim a bad feeling. It seemed like everything to do with this piece was evil. “Are you all right?”

His eyes watering a little, the man sputtered back a, “Yes, scratchy throat,” before continuing his story. “Anyway, like I was saying, the back of the coin is a Chinese curse. It says ‘May you live in interesting times’. Further research revealed this is a very evil thing to say to someone in Chinese culture. Interesting times often refers to war, famine, plagues, and so on. I am not the, what do you call it?”

“Superstitious type,” Tim interjected helpfully.

“Yeah, that’s the word I was searching for. All this research was interesting, but it didn’t really help me with estimating any kind of value for this thing.”

Eagerly Tim jumped in, “What did you do next?”

“I’m getting there, young man, don’t you know patience is a virtue? Young people today rarely seem to be able to slow down. Always some new craze, like jazz music, movies, wild dancing.” He paused for dramatic emphasis and took another slow drink of water. “So, I was frustrated by this coin or whatever it is. Bear with me, the next part of the story is hard to believe. You seem like a nice young man, so I’m going to tell you the truth, but if you ever tell anyone else, I’ll deny it up and down.” He looked around the coin shop suspiciously.

It was funny and a little scary to watch. They both knew damn well that they were the only ones in the closed shop. Yet, Tim found himself looking around too.

The old man leaned closer, the mole on his cheek twitching just above his large grey sideburns, as he began to speak again. Only now his voice was hushed and very serious. “I sat there at the library staring at this thing. Holding it in my hands and flipping it over and over. Then, feeling aggravated at my lack of being able to identify the origin and value, I wished that I had never bought it. It was a vague wish, but a wish none the less. Next thing I know, I’m here in the coin shop, only it’s several days in the past, before I ever met the kid or laid eyes on that coin. My head felt real fuzzy, and I almost questioned whether I’d fallen asleep at the counter and dreamt the whole thing. Before I could convince myself of that, the shop door bursts open, the bell jingling. In walks the kid with the coin. The whole event was happening all over again. Here he was trying to sell it to me.” The shopkeeper stopped briefly, his voice had begun to tremble. “I bought it all over again, thinking I could use it for a better wish.”

“I’m guessing it didn’t work, did it?”

“You’d be right about that. I tried wishing to go back to, well, it doesn’t matter. The point is, pain coursed through my arm and I fell to the floor. Being an old fool, I tried several more times. Each time resulted in a more forceful denial. In my rage, I took the medallion to the back where my shop is located and tried to destroy it. The result was utter failure. I broke several tools and hammers in the process.”

“What happened next?”

“I did the only thing that felt right; I placed the coin in the display case with the hope of selling the accursed thing and getting it the hell away from me.” He breathed a loud sigh and leaned back, regaining some of his normal composure.

“How did I get so lucky?” Tim said sarcastically.

“Eventually it did sell to a bigwig coin dealer from a nearby city. I’m guessing you purchased it from him for more money. What did you pay for it, anyway?” His eyes stared at it with a morbid curiosity.

Disregarding the man’s question entirely, Tim pressed on for knowledge, “is there anything else at all you can tell me about it, anything?”

“Nothing about it per se, except that a thug with a mean disposition came in here earlier today asking about it. Sure, he pretended to be nice, but his true nature was just below the surface.”

“What did he want to know about it?” Tim asked sounding worried.

“He wanted to get its whereabouts and purchase it. The guy really rubbed me the wrong way, and I didn’t tell him much of anything about it, only that I purchased and sold it for a profit.”

“Have you ever seen the man before?”

“No, I didn’t know him. He was so interested, though, that he left his name and number on this piece of paper.” The old shopkeeper turned, and rummaged through a small trash can filled with crumpled up bits of paper. “Here it is,” he said flattening out the note carefully on the counter between them.

The paper read “Charles Yates”, followed by a phone number.