A Haunting in Crown Point: Spookshow 6 Read online

  “Ladies!” she hollered to no one in particular. “I gotta go home.”

  Chapter 2

  IT WAS STILL dark out when Mockler ended his shift and walked out of the Division One building to the parking lot where his car waited. A light snow had fallen during the night, leaving a dusting of white over the streets on the first morning of the new year. Firing up the engine, Mockler looked at his watch and wondered how Billie’s night went. He’d been unable to get a hold of her and a creeping concern had wormed its way into his nerves. She’s fine. She’s home, sound asleep after a late night. Dropping in to see her at this hour would be rude, he concluded, but driving home along Barton Street, he blew past his turn-off and continued on to the rattletrap building that Billie called home.

  Her door was unlocked, as it always was but he had given up scolding Billie over it. He knew that something far more effective than a bolt lock kept her safe against any intruders. He just didn’t like to remind himself what it was.

  Billie Culpepper lay coiled up under a blanket on the sofa, her eyes closed, her features as guileless as a lamb. In sleep, all look innocent. Curiously, she clutched a pair of black shoes in one hand. Fancy and sleek, they didn’t seem to be her style but perhaps Billie had gone all out in the footwear department. Easing them from her fingers, he set the shoes on the floor and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She stirred, but instead of waking, her jaw popped open and she began to lightly snore. Smiling, he straightened up and decided to let her sleep it off.

  A noise creaked behind him and he immediately felt the flesh on the back of his neck creep. He didn’t want to turn around, didn’t want to see what it was but he couldn’t stop his neck from rotating. Mockler knew that the boy meant no harm. Just the opposite, in fact. The boy was eternally protective of Billie and there was nowhere on Earth she was more safe than with him. Still, it did little to settle the gooseflesh tingling the fine hair on his forearms.

  On the floor under the south window lay a small slate chalkboard, the old kind used by schoolchildren a century ago. Billie had bought it at a garage sale in the autumn. A short nub of chalk moved of its own volition across the black slate, emitting the awful squealing racket as it scratched white slashes against the board. Of the boy himself, there was nothing to be seen. Not that Mockler had any wish to see him. He had seen him once, when Billie had held the lad’s hand, rendering him corporeal before his eyes and a ghastly sight he was with his severed stumps for legs and dark little eyes set into an unwashed face. How Billie endured the gruesome changeling, let alone care for him, was beyond the detective’s ken.

  Then the chalk ceased its scraping, hovering there in mid-air, as if caught in the act. It dropped to the floor where it snapped into two smaller pieces.

  Mockler froze. As awful as the squeaking chalk sound had been, at least he knew where the ghost was. Now he didn’t have a clue where the boy could be and, with Billie asleep, would the dead child remember Mockler as an ally or would he attack him, the way he always tore after Gantry?

  The window pane above the chalkboard slid upward, the same window that he had helped repair after it had been broken during an assault by some crazed cultists just before Christmas. The window pane lifted almost a foot out of its casement and then stopped. A bitter January wind pierced the apartment but something in the air immediately shifted, feeling lighter somehow, and Mockler knew that the Half-Boy had slipped out. A few snowflakes billowed inside and Mockler crossed to the window to slide the window pane home again, silently grateful that the little ghost had fled. When he turned around, Billie was sitting up and looking over the room, her eyes puffy and confused.

  “Ray?” she said in a raw voice, as if unsure of whom she was squinting at.

  He knelt down beside her. “Good morning. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  She glanced around the flat. “Did Tom leave?”

  “He just slipped out. I don’t think he much cares for me.”

  “Give him time.” Billie raised both hands to her face and rubbed her eyes. “God, I must look like hell.”

  “You look like you had fun. I called you a bunch of times last night.”

  Her hands fell away from her face. “You did? I figured you were too busy to call.”

  “You didn’t get my calls? Or texts?”

  “My phone’s been acting screwy.” Her mobile lay on the coffee table. Scooping it up, she thumbed it on but the screen remained dark. “Now it won’t even turn on.”

  “That’s a relief,” he said. “Here I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Very funny, detective.”

  “Happy New Year.”

  He tilted forward to kiss her but she turned her face, letting his lips smack her cheek. “Don’t,” she protested. “I’m toxic.”

  “I don’t care. I missed my chance to ring in the new year, so pucker up.”

  Billie relented but the kiss was quick and she pulled back, fearing she’d knock him flat with hangover breath. She couldn’t remember if she had even brushed her teeth before collapsing onto the sofa. Probably not. “How was work?”

  “Quiet,” he said. “No one killed anybody. Odin and I helped out with a few drunken brawls but that was to fight the boredom. How was the night out with the ladies?”

  Billie skrunched up her eyes, trying to remember. “It was okay. Kaitlin regaled us with our horoscopes. Gantry stopped in to say hi.”

  “Oh? How much of a mess was he?”

  “Weirdly sober. He came to say bye. He’s leaving town for awhile.”

  Mockler nodded in approval. “The new year is looking up already.”

  “Be nice,” Billie teased. She dropped her feet to the floor and clutched his arm, the room swimming round. “Help me up. I’m going to brush my teeth. You strip out of those clothes and I’ll meet you in bed.”

  Pulling her up, the blanket fell away and he took in the tight-fitting cocktail dress she had fallen asleep in. Black, dotted with black inlay of faux sparkles. “Nice dress,” he said.

  “It’s one of Jen’s.” She started for the bathroom but swayed to one side and gripped his arm tighter. “It’s not the easiest thing to walk in. Especially hung over.”

  “Should I get the bucket?”

  “Hilarious.” She tried to swat him, but her aim went wide and she lost her balance. “Whoops.”

  He steadied her. “Do you need help in there?”

  “No. Off you go.”

  The bathroom door closed so he crossed into the bedroom. Undoing his tie, he glanced back at the small window that the boy had slipped out of, expecting to see it open again. It rattled slightly as the wind blew snow against it but the pane remained closed. Tossing his tie over the chair, he began unbuttoning his shirt when he heard Billie’s voice call out from the bathroom.

  “Ray?” Her voice was plaintive as it echoed through the chipped wood of the door.

  “You all right in there?”

  “This dress,” her voice rattled, caught somewhere between pleading and sheer embarrassment. “I think it shrank overnight.”

  The smirk on his face widened. “Be right there.”

  ~

  Thursday evenings at the Ministry of Eternal Salvation was Doors Open night but to many of the congregants, it was also Looney Tune night. The ministry was still new to the area, seven months this February since they took over the old church, and the Reverend Reginald Joy was eager to fill the pews for Sunday morning. To this end, he opened the doors of the church every Thursday night to anyone seeking advice or a kind ear no matter what the issue was. There was also fresh pastries and coffee for visitors to refresh their weary souls.

  Reverend Joy was a commanding presence, even without the white collar. Tall and broad shouldered, he carried himself with the alertness of a life spent in the military. The greying buzz cut softened the image but he worked hard to not appear intimidating. As a result, the Reverend stood by his word, welcoming any newcomer and listening to their problems no matter how strang
e or deluded. Secret government conspiracies and UFOs, demonic possession and microchip implants. Reverend Joy listened to them all as these people with twitchy eyes or smelly clothes hunched over their paper cup of coffee and whispered their obsessions to him. The regular congregants of the Ministry of Eternal Salvation quietly tutted their concerns. Most of the Thursday night crowd came only for the free donuts, but, occasionally, one of them stayed and became a regular member of the flock come Sunday morning.

  There were the rare spots of trouble for the open door policy. One man, drunk and ranting about his wife, had taken a swing at the preacher but Reverend Joy quickly folded the man in two and talked him down from his precipice of rage. Standing over six feet, the Reverend Joy had little difficulty dealing with the violent cases and reserves of patience when hearing them out.

  This Thursday proved no different, the Reverend listening intently as a husband and wife confessed to him that their 14-year-old daughter was possessed by the devil.

  “What makes you think she’s possessed?” he asked.

  “She screams all the time,” said the mother. “The most obscene things, too. And her rage, my God. She’s like a hurricane storming through the house.”

  “All teens go through a phase like that,” Joy suggested. “It can be trying but they do pass.”

  “That’s what we thought too,” said the father. “But she’s become violent now. The other day she attacked me with a screwdriver.”

  Reverend Joy nodded his head slowly. “Is it possible she’s experimenting with drugs or alcohol?”

  “Oh no,” the mother said. “Angela may be possessed by evil but she’d never mess about with that stuff.”

  “I still don’t hear anything that seems outside the norm for teenage behaviour.”

  The woman elbowed her husband’s ribs. “Show him.”

  “We found this under her pillow.” The father held out a small bundle of sticks bound with twine and adorned with tiny knots of brightly coloured thread and beads.

  Turning the object over in his hands, the Reverend finally shrugged. “What is it?”

  “It’s a witch’s doll. Like they used to make in the old country.”

  “Is that where she learned to do this?”

  “She’s never even seen one before,” replied the father. “We’ve kept this stuff away from her. Since we came to this country, we left all that stuff behind.”

  It was too easy to blame the Devil for what we didn’t want to face. Scratch the surface of any so-called evil and one would find all too human causes behind any aberrant behaviour. “Will you ask her to come talk to me?” Reverend Joy queried. “Alone, after school. She may be more open to talk if she’s alone.”

  The mother scanned the church around them, her eyes coming to rest on the large cross above the altar. “Would she even step foot in this place?”

  “That will be our first test,” he said.

  The father said they would try. The mother relented, but seemed disappointed that a full exorcism hadn’t been arranged.

  Reverend Joy saw the couple to the door and turned to survey the nave. There was one person he’d yet to meet, a man sitting alone in a pew, his heavy winter coat bundled onto the bench beside him. His head was bowed but whether in prayer or despair, it was difficult to determine.

  “Hello,” greeted the Reverend. “Thanks for coming to the Ministry of Eternal Salvation. I’m Reverend Joy.”

  “Noah.” The man stood and shook the Reverend’s hand. “Noah Kemp. I hope you don’t mind me wandering in.”

  “That’s what this night is all about. Opening the doors to all. No commitments, no obligations. Just come and say hello.”

  They settled back into the pew and the Reverend looked the man over. Noah was mid-thirties and casually dressed in a grey hoodie and jeans, tattoos poking out from his sleeves. A wedding band that he turned restlessly.

  “Did you get something to eat? The baklava is from the shop next door. Best in the city.”

  “I’m fine,” Noah said. His eyes roamed over the pews and the altar, the people lingering around the food table. “How long have you been here?”

  “Seven months,” replied Joy. “We took possession in the spring. The congregation has been growing slowly.”

  “It hasn’t changed much.”

  “You’ve been to this church before?”

  “When I was a kid. It used to be a United Methodist back then. We lived three blocks over and mom would take us every Sunday.”

  The Reverend smiled. “Well, welcome back, Noah. I hope we can accommodate you now. The door’s are always open if you’d like to come and visit. Or just sit quietly for a bit. We get a fair amount of people doing that.”

  “What, just to hang out?”

  “To get some peace and quiet. Some reflection. Churches are designed for that. You’d be surprised by the number of people who duck in for ten or twenty minutes. You can almost see the relief on their faces as they take a break from all the noise in their lives.”

  “I might just do that,” Noah said.

  Reverend Joy studied the young man anew. The restless hands were a contrast to the deep fatigue on the man’s face. Something was causing the man to lose sleep.

  “Do you live nearby, Noah?”

  “Not far. We’re over in Crown Point, on Cavell.”

  “You’re married?”

  “Yeah. Almost two years now. Robin and I, and Robin’s daughter. We bought the house last April, moved in.”

  “How nice,” Joy said. “How old is Robin’s daughter?”

  “Maya’s seven. Sweet kid. Smart too.” Noah’s eyes brightened momentarily as he spoke the girl’s name but they quickly dimmed again, as if recalling something unpleasant.

  Reverend Joy decided to try a little fishing. “That’s a lot of change in a short time. Getting married, coming together as a blended family, settling into a new place.”

  Noah nodded. “It hasn’t been easy but nothing worthwhile ever is.”

  “Does Maya like the new house?”

  “The house…” Noah’s voice trailed off but the fussing in his hands ratcheted up, his knee bouncing nervously. “I don’t know what to do.”

  Reverend Joy remained quiet for a heartbeat. His fishing had paid off, hooking something that was clearly troubling the young man. The next part was tricky, coaxing it up to the surface without scaring it away. “You know, the open door policy here extends to whatever is said within these walls too. There’s no judgement, no topic that’s taboo here. I don’t know if I can help, Noah, but I can listen.”

  “It’s just—” Noah shook his head, as if arguing with himself. “I don’t even know how to say it. That goddamn house...”

  The Reverend softened his tone even more. “What about the house?”

  Noah launched out of the pew and stepped away. “I should go. Sorry about the language, Reverend.”

  “Noah, please.” Reverend Joy followed the man to the door but Noah’s pace was brisk. “The door is always open. Anytime you want to come back.”

  Noah Kemp slipped out of the church and the heavy door closed behind him with a click. Reverend Joy sighed, frustrated with his own clumsiness. Be fishers of men, Christ had taught. Not this time, he surmised. This one got away.

  Chapter 3

  FIVE DAYS INTO the new year and the mercury had plunged to an almost lethal degree, the wind cutting straight off the lake, sharp as a blade. It knifed through outerwear to cut any exposed flesh with a tiny lick of frostbite.

  “You need a warmer coat, honey,” Aunt Maggie said. She reached out and pinched the sleeve of her niece’s coat. “This wasn’t meant for winter wear.”

  “It’s fine,” Billie said. The garment in question was a black duffel coat, mens and a size too big, that Billie had unearthed on one of the flea market runs with Jen. She loved the way it looked but it did little to keep the cold out. Not that she was about to admit that to her aunt. “With enough layers under it.”

&nb
sp; The wind was at their backs, pushing them along James Street, past the arched gates of the old armoury. Maggie had made one of her rare trips into the city to do some shopping and visit her only niece. Billie was happy to have her aunt stay with her, eager to play the hostess, even if it was only for a short visit. Maggie despised the city and refused to stay anymore than two days within its limits. Hoping to show her aunt how much the city was changing, Billie insisted that they walk instead of drive, allowing Billie to point out the new shops and restored buildings. The plan flopped, as the only thing her aunt noticed was how improperly dressed Billie was for winter.

  “You should get one of those fancy parkas,” Maggie said. “The ones with goose down.”

  “Do you know how expensive those things are? I don’t have seven hundred bucks to burn.”

  Maggie slipped her gloved hand through Billie’s elbow. “Do you need money?”

  “I’m fine. I just can’t justify spending that kind of cash on a single piece of clothing.”

  With that, the wind kicked up a few knots, as if to underscore her aunt’s point and cut clean through the duffel coat to ice Billie to the bone. She had, at times, cast an envious eye on the fancy goose down parkas but managing her money better was one of the goals Billie had set for the coming year. The only resolution she had made while turning the calendar page to January.

  “I’m not saying you have to spend that kind of money,” Maggie contended, “but I’m worried you’ll catch your death in that threadbare thing. Maybe we can find something for you today. I don’t mind chipping in, if you see something you like.”

  “We’ll see,” Billie said by way of dropping the issue. “Do you want to stop in and see Jen?”

  The antique bell over the door sounded with its reassuring ring as they scampered out of the chill into the warmth of the Doll House. Jen was behind the counter, finishing up with a customer. Her face brightened when she saw Maggie.