Haunted

Clara shook her head again, appearing to be the one wise beyond all earthly knowledge. “Well, Mr. Matt, I’ll have you know, that isn’t true at all! Haven’t you ever heard of the Bell Witch in Tennessee? They say that even old Andrew Jackson was afraid of her, that she pulled people’s hair and threw the children around and even caused the death of the master of the house. You refuse to accept anything that isn’t cut-and-dried, and you’re blind to things going on in your own house!”

Matt leaned against the door frame, smiling. “Clara, once again, I believe that people can make things real with their imaginations.”

“You think old Andy Jackson was an imaginative guy?”

“You’d have to show me written proof that Andrew Jackson was afraid of a ghost. And I don’t mean any hearsay on a Discovery program or even in a book of ghost stories.”

Clara pointed a finger at him. “You’d better do something, before the stories about this house become so real that no one will pay for the tours. You can’t keep this place up on a sheriff’s salary alone.”

“Thank you, Clara. I’ll take that under advisement. But then again, you know, Penny is certain that a documented haunting would make us as rich as Midas.”

Clara was startled when Matt frowned suddenly and walked over to her. “What happened to your face?”

“To my face?” Clara frowned as well, and walked over to the mirror. Her cheek was red and mottled, as if she’d been slapped, and slapped hard.

She turned and stared at him. “Ghosts don’t menace people, huh?”

“Clara,” Matt said. “Think about it! You must have run into something in your hurry to get out of the room!”

Clara eyed him sharply and shook her head. “Matt, the stories have circulated for years. People have sworn that they’ve seen soldiers in the downstairs rooms. They’ve seen a lady in white, floating down the stairway. Ghosts that fit in with history. It’s only been in recent years, since your grandfather died, that things have gotten really serious. Remember how Randy Gustav quit after staying a night in the Lee Room? He wouldn’t even explain what happened to you. It’s only in the last few years that…that the ghosts kind of threaten to get violent.”

“There are no such things as ghosts.”

“Oh, yeah? One just gave me a bruise!”

With that, Clara indignantly walked out on him, calling back over her shoulder, “Matt, you’re a hell of a man. That’s why I’m staying. Believe it or don’t, but you’d better do something about that particular ghost—that doesn’t exist in your mind.”

That evening, having returned home very late from work, Matt sat at the desk in his suite in the main house, going through correspondence.

There was a tap at his door.

“Come in.”

Penny stuck her head in. “Am I bothering you, Matt?”

“Not at all.”

She walked in and sat on the corner of his desk. “Matt, you have to do something over this latest episode with Clara.”

“Oh?” He leaned back in his chair.

“Clara was hurt!”

“Penny, please. I’m sorry, I think the world of Clara, we’re friends from way back, and I gave her the rest of the day off with pay. She had to have run into something.”

Penny shook her head.

He leaned forward suddenly, abruptly. “Penny, you wouldn’t be playing some kind of game up there, determined to convince the rest of the world, if not me, that the place is haunted?”

She gaped at him in such affront that he was immediately sorry.

“Matt, I would never—”

“But maybe someone would.”

“Maybe,” Penny agreed grudgingly. She wagged a finger at him. “You know, you are far too trusting at times. Too many people could have access to this place.”

“Penny, I’m not too trusting. We’re a fairly small town.”

Penny shook her head decisively. “You’re right, of course. But you’ve got to remember that even in our small town we have had a few pretty grisly murders. Why can’t you just accept the fact that something strange is going on?”

“Penny, you’ve wanted nothing more than a real ghost for years.”

Penny shook her head, suddenly troubled. “Ghosts…that cause a cold spot, or breeze by, or…I don’t think this is a good ghost,” she murmured.

She patted his desk, rummaging through the unopened letters. “What about that letter you got from Harrison Investigations? Call Adam. You respect him. He was friends with your grandfather long ago.”

He groaned.

“Please, Matt. You’ve suggested that maybe someone is breaking in, or doing something to make it appear that there are ghosts. Adam can tell you what’s real, and what’s not.”

“What he perceives as real,” Matt muttered.

“Hey, I’ve followed some of what he’s done. Last year, he and some of his colleagues proved that the haunting of an old mining camp was nothing more than two modern prospectors digging for gold.”

“Great. I call in Ghostbusters and become the laughingstock of the town. I might as well find a new place to live.”

Penny shook her head. “Matt, maybe they can just do the same thing here.” She hopped off the edge of the table. “Please, promise me you’ll think about it, at least.”

She left him, closing the door softly in her wake.

Matt walked to his own set of French doors out to the wraparound balcony. The moon was full. In the distance, he could see the vague shape of the mountains, and the sweep of the valley. God, he loved this area. Loved the house, the stables, but mostly, just the natural beauty of the area.

He returned to his desk, reflective. Clara’s face had been marked, as if she had been hit. He still didn’t believe in ghosts, but…

He reflected on the number of people who lived on the property. Penny, Sam, Clint, Carter, even Clara now and then, and through the years gone by, various friends and relatives. Could someone have set the place up so that it appeared haunted?

He strode to the Lee Room, searched under the bed, in the closet, all around. Nothing.

Still…

He returned to his own suite, toyed with Adam Harrison’s letter for a moment, and picked up the phone. He dialed Harrison’s number. They spoke briefly. “Matt, good to hear from you.”

“You weren’t certain that you would?” Matt queried dryly.

“Nope. Not this time.”

“You know I don’t believe in the supernatural in any way, shape, or form.”