The Mystery of the Courthouse Calamity (Eden Patterson: Ghost Whisperer Book 1) Read online

  The Mystery of the Courthouse Calamity

  by

  Constance Barker

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  Copyright 2015 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

  Similarities to real people, places or events are purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  When I was just a wee sprout I spent many summer days with my grandparents who lived on 10 acres in the countryside of western Kentucky. I loved the warm days during the summer as Grandpa Winky would push me in the old oak tree swing. He always wore his brown derby hat, even on the hottest of days. On the rare occasion he took it off, wisps of white hair would stand almost straight up and emit a giggle or two from me and Grams.

  In the evenings Grandpa Winky and Grams and I would sit in rocking chairs on their huge front porch, drink ice cold lemonade, and watch the sunset as it colored the western sky in shades of orange and pink. Sometimes visitors, friends of Grams and Grandpa, would stop by and they’d talk. I loved to listen to the old ghost stories they would tell. Grams would admonish Winky that he’d give me nightmares, but I loved the spooky tales. The stories usually centered on people around the town of Bravo, KY where we lived, who had already passed on, sometimes hundreds of years ago. Like the Indian who people said they’d seen at the state park nearby who would ride his ghost horse up to the creek so he could take a drink. Or the fated lovers who fell from Hound Holler’s cliff. One fell accidentally. The partner was so distressed that he or she followed. Never knew who took the plunge first….the story always changed depending on who told it.

  Behind the house was small building known as a summer kitchen. Grams, my mother and aunts would use it to can beans, corn, stewed tomatoes and tomato juice. They all had huge gardens so the summer kitchen was perfect for canning the vegetables without heating up the house. I would sit with my cousins as the women snapped beans, boiled the jars, and listen for the ping of the lids to ensure the jars were properly sealed. Grandpa Winky would try and stick his head inside the summer kitchen to get a whiff of what was going on, but the women always shooed him off.

  Although I was close to my Grams, it was Grandpa Winky who was special to my heart. He nicknamed me Sugar because he said I was so sweet. Yeah, only a Grandpa can get away with that. So it was heartbreaking when he passed away suddenly when I was twelve from a massive heart attack. He was in his flower garden pulling weeds when he fell over, so Grams said. She said that at least he was in one of his most favorite places when he passed and for that she was thankful. But not me. I was angry he’d left. As a child I suppose I thought like one, selfishly at how his passing affected me and me only.

  That summer after he died was particularly lonely for me. Although many of my Grams’s sisters would come and stay with her, the house seemed empty without him there. I’d go and sit on the swing he built for me on the old oak tree and scold God for taking him so soon and Winky for up and leaving me like he had a choice in the matter. Then one day, as I kicked at the dirt under the swing, I heard a familiar voice.

  “Why so glum Sugar pie?”

  My head darted up. The apparition that stood before me was my Grandpa Winky complete in a white shirt with skinny brown tie, brown slacks, suspenders and his brown derby hat. It was the same outfit he wore in a photograph with Grams that sat framed on a shelf in their living room.

  I jumped off the swing. “Grandpa! What’s going on? How are you here?”

  He smiled. “I wanted to see my Sugar pie.”

  I struggled to understand what my eyes were seeing and my brain was telling me couldn’t be. “But how? I saw you in the casket. I watched them put the casket in the ground. You can’t be here.”

  “Oh I’m here alright.” He winked at me, which made me feel a tiny bit better. I noticed then that I could actually see right through him. It was like looking at a hologram, even though I didn’t know what that was at the time.

  “I didn’t want to startle you my darling Eden, but there wasn’t any other way I reckon. I’ve been watching you and Grams for a while now.”

  “Can she see you?” I hoped she could…it would make her feel so much better about Winky.

  “Unfortunately no dear. Only you can see me. And you mustn’t tell her or anybody else that you’ve seen me, or they’ll think you’re….not well.”

  “But why am I the only one?”

  “Because you‘re special, and perhaps because you’re still young. The older we become the more jaded I suppose.”

  “What does ‘jaded’ mean?” I was grasping to understand this unbelievable situation.

  “It means that as adults we become suspicious, losing that ability we had as children which allowed us to be filled with wonder. You still have that gift of wonderment.”

  From that moment forward I kept our secret. We’d meet by the swing or in the summer kitchen. I’d have to be careful to ensure Grams or no one else would see me talking to the air. But Winky made it easy. He knew when someone was coming and would shut me down with a finger to his lips.

  I couldn’t touch him as my hand would slide right through his apparition, but I felt his presence as if he were still alive. But as the years slipped by and my attention veered towards other avenues of interest, boys and makeup to name a few, Grandpa Winky’s visits decreased. I was 15 and noticed that I hadn’t seen Winky for almost 3 weeks. Then I remembered that even before that Grandpa’s visits had become infrequent. By the time I was 18 they stopped all together. I had become an adult, and like Winky had said, my wonderment had all but evaporated. Oh sure, my life was filled with earthly problems, like which college to attend and better yet how to pay for it. I no longer had time for Winky and his silly chatter. But the longer he was gone, the more I missed our visits. At least then I could be myself. Winky never judged and how I loved his stories. But I grew up and began to wonder if I’d only imagined him all those years. And so began my journey to find Grandpa Winky again. What I didn’t know at the time is that this journey would take me down various paths and to places I’d never imagined I would go.

  Chapter One

  “We’ve got a new case,” my husband Luke hollered to me as I set the table for dinner. He walked into the kitchen and kissed me hello. My husband of two years was incredibly handsome, with his thick brown hair and brilliant mahogany eyes, although I’m sure I’m biased. We met while in college and married after graduation. In fact, most of our friends and colleagues also came from the Thomas Moore college in Kentucky.

  “Oh good.” I set a bowl of green beans and a platter of fried chicken on the table. “I hope it’s more than faulty wiring or a mouse causing the ruckus.”

  Luke pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. “Eden, even the small jobs keep us in business.”

  I knew he was right, but I longed to find something meaningful in our work. Luke and I owned the Paranormal Investigation Inc. company. Sounds more ominous than it really is. Basically we are ghost hunters. Our team includes Gerry Gorbett, also known as Goog, Sydney Campbell and Matt Hayward.

  Luke and I met in a paranormal society, a club within the college. There we also met Matt, a techie who doesn’t believe in ghosts but loves playing around with the equipment. Goog has been a friend of Luke’s since high school and is a reluctant employee. He hates scary movies and even the thought of spirits hanging around his space gives him heart palpitations. But he joined us to try and get over his fear. So far it’s not working.

  Sydney, or Syd as we like to c
all her, is a tough cookie. She may look frail with her thin physique and cute as a button pixie haircut, but don’t let that fool you. She doesn’t take any crap from anyone, human or ghost. Syd’s my friend from childhood. We lost touch for a while after her family moved, but we reconnected when she found out I was getting married.

  Luke took a bite of a chicken leg. “I think this case may have some real possibilities.”

  I took a swallow of my sweet tea. “How so?’

  “The mayor of Manchester called me this morning. They’ve got a problem in their courthouse. He said they’ve hired electricians, plumbers, inspectors….nobody can find what the problem is. Dang, you make the best fried chicken.” He took another big bite of his chicken leg. They say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. It sure didn’t hurt.

  I smiled. “Thanks. So what’s the problem exactly and why does the Mayor think we can help?”

  Luke took a breather from inhaling his dinner. “Seems the courthouse has been plagued with rather strange goings on for the last month.”

  “Like what?”

  Luke took a drink to wash down his meal and continued. “Like the judge’s gavel taking on a mind of its own. Seems the gavel likes to make it’s way around the courtroom trying to take a swipe at the lawyers and the judge himself.”

  “Has it ever made contact?”

  “Yes, but it’s more like a love tap, although I’m sure they’re afraid it could get worse. I guess the court reporter is having a hell of a time keeping up with all the expletives being bandied about when the gavel decides to come out and play.”

  “Okay….so why are electricians and plumbers being called in for a enraged gavel?”

  Luke stood up to refill his tea glass. “Well, it’s not just the gavel. Exploding toilets and light bulbs are also causing problems.”

  “Exploding toilets? Oh that’s got to be lots of fun!” I held out my tea glass so Luke could fill it from the pitcher.

  “Especially if you’re sitting on one!”

  “Oh Lord!” I laughed. “Okay, this does sound crazy. I’m getting excited about this one.”

  Many of our cases the last few years since we started weren’t of the spirit world type. They were more the tiny, or not so tiny, critter that found its way into a home or building and caused a commotion. Like mice chewing on electrical wire causing lights to go on and off. Or the raccoon who made his home behind a wall in an old uptown hardware store building. The owner swore a demon was trying to claw its way out from behind his display of nails and screws. When we finally unearthed the rascal I swore he was a devil in raccoon clothing as he scratched and hissed at us. But the only revelation in these cases were that small animals can utilize even the tiniest of holes to gain entry into a space.

  Although most of our cases resulted in very basic answers to a supposed haunting, there were a few that we encountered that were definitely of the more spirit world variety. Case in point….six months ago a barber from Pennsylvania requested our services at his shop. Seems that whenever a particular customer came into his place of business, the barber chairs would start spinning at a high velocity.

  Came to find out that the barber’s father had recently passed away. He had started the business and worked right up until he had a heart attack inside the shop. It was after that the spinning barber chair routine commenced, but only when a friend of the father’s stopped by to get a haircut. We had to do some digging, which is a separate yet important part of our business, but we came to find out that the so-called friend had been cheating the barber in an investment deal they had partnered on. And since the father died, the partner was now cheating the son, who had inherited his father’s half of the investment. Guess the dear departed get clued in on some of these transgressions and the barber decided to let his dissatisfaction be known. Eventually the man came clean, repaid the son what he owed him, and the spinning barber chairs stopped, much to the chagrin to several children who were in no way frightened but delighted by the sight. So in a way we’re not just ghost hunters, but private detectives as well. If someone or something is haunting a building, there’s usually a reason why, and it’s up to us to find out what it is.

  Luke had his own paranormal dealings growing up. He lived in a haunted house. At first he believed his older brothers were tormenting him with knocks on the walls and rigging the lights to go on and off. But one Saturday, when he was the only person in the house, the shenanigans continued. Luke began experimenting by asking questions and having who or whatever it was communicate with him by knocking on the wall. Once for yes and twice for no. For a long time he was enthralled with his contact with the unknown. He could never see the spirits, but he came to know them through his questions. Turns out the “Knockers” as he called them, were children, two boys and a girl, who had died in a flash flood near his home over 30 years ago. He discovered this bit of news through his questions and trips to the library that filled in the rest of the story.

  But like me, as he grew older and other interests drew him away from communicating with his “friends,” the spirits stopped their knocking until one day Luke noticed that he never heard them anymore. After he went to college he formed the Paranormal Club and that’s where we met. Like me with Winky, he’s been searching for those children ever since.

  We hoped that offering our services to others would bring back our own lost spirits, but alas, it hasn’t happened yet. But we’re hopeful and along the way we’re making a living and helping others as well.

  In this current case we’d have to figure out first if there really was a haunting, and if so, who was wronged. With this being an old courthouse, there could be a mountain of suspects, both human and paranormal.

  Chapter Two

  “I don’t like the sound of this,” Goog replied after I filled our team in on our new case.

  “You never like the sound of any case Goog.” Syd took a sip of coffee from her to go cup and placed it into the SUV’s cup holder. We were on our way to Manchester, KY where the supposed haunting was taking place. Luke was driving while Matt sat up in front with him. Syd and I were in the middle seats and Goog was in the vehicle behind us. We normally needed two vehicles on the job so Goog would drive the hauling truck with much of our equipment in the back. He was on speakerphone and he didn’t sound too comfortable with our next mission, which wasn’t out of character for him.

  “True, but this one sounds particularly violent. I don’t want a bloody nose from an errant gavel.”

  Syd smirked. “Wouldn’t you rather have a bloody nose than a whack at the family jewels?”

  “Ouch Syd!” Matt called from the front seat. “Could you please refrain from discussing our nether regions in such a, well, brutal manner.”

  “Wuss.” Syd didn’t mind calling it like it was. These boys could use some toughening up and Syd was just the one to do it.

  “And with that little Valentine, I’m signing off.” Goog was our resident muscle, but not in the sense of fighting off ghosts. He lugged the equipment here and thro and watched the monitors. Matt was the one who knew how to set up the video and audio equipment along with the motion sensors, as well as the infrared thermometers and the electronic magnetic field meters. I didn’t know an infrared thermometer from one I stuck in my mouth. I let Matt and Luke take care of the technical stuff. I was more the ghost whisperer. And Syd…she was more the ghost slayer. Not that we had to have that particular profession, but if we did, she’d be the one we’d all be cowering behind.

  “Mom and Aunt Susie can’t wait for us to get to The Hitching Post.” Syd’s mother and aunt owned a little diner in Manchester called The Hitching Post. Their specialty was home cooked food like meatloaf, mashed potatoes, fried chicken and apple pie. Luke and I would feel right at home.

  “Mom said the back room should be large enough to accommodate us while we’re there. We can use it for our meeting room.”

  Luke looked in the rear view mirror. “I really appreciate your Mom and au
nt letting us use the space. Sometimes hotel rooms can get cramped.”

  “She’s just happy she can see her daughter for a few days. And I miss her home cooking.”

  The Hitching Post was a lone building surrounded by a large parking lot. We followed Syd in through the back door, where Syd’s mother Patty and Susie were introduced to Matt and Goog. Syd’s mother was a carbon copy of Syd and I’d known her and Aunt Susie for years. Susie brought us a pot of coffee and cups as we settled in for the task at hand.

  “So what’s the first order of business?” Goog asked as we sat around the table in the back room of the restaurant.

  “The mayor has asked me to stop in today at 3 o’clock to his office to talk with members of the city council and explain what we do. He said most of them were against hiring us and that we were the last resort.”

  Matt looked up from his notes that Luke had handed out earlier. “We usually are.”

  “True. Anyway it sounds like they’re desperate. The mayor texted me this morning that things are getting worse at the courthouse.”

  “Worse than exploding toilets and wayward gavels?” Goog looked unsettled. “Do I even want to know?”