The Mystery of the Morbid Moans (Eden Patterson: Ghost Whisperer Book Three 3) Read online

  The Mystery of the Morbid Moans

  by

  Constance Barker

  Copyright 2016 Constance Barker

  All rights reserved.

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

  Prologue

  One Christmas when I was five years old my parents were out of town, so I spent that holiday with Grams and Grandpa Winky. I was sad that I wouldn’t spend this special day with my parents, but Grams and Winky made sure to make it special for me.

  Christmas Eve we piled into Winky’s old Chevy pickup and made the rounds in town looking at the holiday lights. There were a few inches of snow on the ground, and the colored lights gleamed off the white cap’s surface. The radio was on with bulletins on Santa sightings, which made me even more excited.

  Late that evening we attended Christmas Eve services, where the baby Jesus laid in a manger on the church’s altar and the choir and congregation sang carols about his arrival into this world.

  I was half asleep when we arrived back at Grams and Winky’s house, but I wanted to make hot cocoa for Santa. Of course Grams did it for me as I sleepily trailed off to bed.

  Christmas morning when I walked out of my room, I entered what looked like a mystical realm. No lights were on, but many candles were lit, providing a magical atmosphere as I made my way to the living room. Many more presents were under the tree than the night before and Grams and Winky sat on the couch with their coffee mugs, waiting for me.

  “Santa came,” Winky announced with a wide grin.

  But even in my young mind I knew it was Grams and Winky who had arranged this perfect holiday for me. They knew it was difficult to be away from my parents, but they had succeeded in making it special and one that I would remember all my life.

  That evening I sat on Grandpa Winky’s lap and we gazed out the window at the falling snowflakes. It is one of my most cherished memories of him and Grams. A time when I felt safe and loved.

  But Winky was right when he told me those feelings of security fade as you grow older. His ghostly spirit warned me that adulthood robbed you of childlike amazement. I was on a mission to find that wonderment again, and along the way I hoped to find Winky’s spirit as well.

  Chapter One

  “We’ve got a job in Ohio,” my husband Luke announced as he walked out onto our front porch where our ghost hunting team had assembled.

  My best friend and colleague Sydney and our other two team members, Gerry aka Goog and Matt sat with me. Syd and I sat on the porch swing, while Goog and Matt anchored the two rocking chairs. Luke sat down on the edge of the porch railing.

  “There’s a small town called Willett’s Pike in Ohio that’s known for its antique shops. The entire downtown area is antique shops, hometown restaurants and a few bed and breakfast inns.”

  “I’ve been there.” Matt took a sip of his iced tea and then continued. “It’s a quaint village, not far from Cincinnati. A girl I dated and I spent the night at one of the inns a few years ago. It’s also known for ghost tales. They have ghost walks in the summer and fall.”

  “Did you go on a ghost walk while you were there?” I asked.

  “Eden, this is Matt you’re talking to,” Syd remarked. “Why would the only person on our ghost hunting team that doesn’t believe in ghosts go on a ghost walk?”

  I smiled. “Because his girlfriend wanted to?”

  Matt nodded. “Yep, that was the only way I was going. But I have to say, they’ve got an elaborate set up.”

  Goog stretched his long legs. “What do you mean?”

  “This place is old. It was established in the late 1700’s by the Quakers and many of the original structures still stand. The Quakers were pretty simple folk so the old buildings are very minimal looking from the outside. Just square with a few windows. But then you’ll see these large Victorian homes as well on the side streets. They’re very much adorned with wrought iron railings and spires on top of turrets on a few of the homes. It’s a stark contrast to the Quaker buildings. I’m thinking there must have been quite a clash of ideals at some point.”

  Luke took a large swallow of his sweet tea and then asked, “So what do you mean about their elaborate setup for the ghost walk?”

  “The tour takes you to different buildings and the guide tells about the ghosts that inhabit them. Of course there are knocks and flickering lights that occur on cue.”

  Matt was our resident skeptic, but I agreed with him on this aspect. Ghosts don’t react on command.

  “But what I meant by elaborate was the colorful show the town puts on at night around the spires of the largest Victorian home. The tour guide tells you its ghosts dancing, but I’m sure it’s simply lights reflecting from somewhere. Anyway, during a full moon with a cloudless sky, these colored orbs travel around the spires. It’s quite a show and after about five minutes they fade away.”

  “I’d love to see it,” I said as Syd and I swung back and forth on the swing. “So what’s the mission boss?” I asked Luke.

  “It doesn’t have anything to do with dancing orbs.”

  “And they’re used to ghosts in this town,” Goog interjected. “So what’s the problem?”

  “You’re right Goog…they usually don’t have problems with ghosts,” Luke answered. “But this one is scaring away the tourists and causing economic problems for the town. They need tourists in order to remain viable and keep the store keepers in business.”

  Syd stopped in mid-swing. “How’s the ghost scaring people Luke?”

  “The tourists and shopkeepers hear moans, rattling chains, and a deep voice saying ‘Don’t take me.’”

  Goog stopped rocking and made a face. “Well, doesn’t that sound dandy?” Unlike Matt, Goog believed in earthbound spirits, but he didn’t particularly like them. So you may ask, why does he work with the Paranormal Investigating Services? Goog wants to get over his fear, but I believe it has to do with something in his past. A dread that was ingrained years ago that he wants to deal with now. Although he and Luke have been buddies for years, Goog has never confided in Luke regarding this phobia he has or why he wants to confront it. We let him go at his own speed.

  Syd rubbed her chin in thought. “Chains, moaning, and someone saying ‘don’t take me’….I know what it sounds like to me.”

  Unfortunately, I agreed. It didn’t sound good.

  Chapter Two

  Willet’s Pike was about a three hour drive from our home base in Kentucky. The small town had a main drag punctuated with antique and craft stores, soda shops, art galleries, and one of my favorites, a shop with tiny blown glass items such as dolphins, turtles, palm trees and ornaments. I made a mental note to explore certain shops before leaving town.

  Luke had arranged for the team to spend several nights at the Hummel Bed and Breakfast. The large building was over 200 years old with a restaurant on the bottom floor and guest rooms on the second and third floors. Normally it would be difficult to get accommodations at the Hummel House, as the locals called it, but many guests were cancelling when they heard of the disturbances.

  Joanne Rigsby owned the Hummel House and showed us to our rooms. She was a slender woman with long black hair. I thought she might have some American-Native blood coursing through her veins by her dark eyes and high cheekbones. She was a widow, but I could tell she was a strong and vital woman in her fifties.

  Goog and Matt bunked together, while Syd had her own room and Luke and I had ours. The town of Willet’s Pike was originally built and inha
bited by Quakers, and much of their heritage remained within the walls of the Hummel House with limited room and simple furnishings and minimal decorations. Not that I minded. There was something to be said for their plain lifestyle.

  Luke had organized a meeting with several of the prominent townsfolk and shop keepers that afternoon to find out more of the story on the earthbound spirit or spirits.

  “Mrs. Rigsby will be joining us in the meeting,” Luke said as he unpacked his button down plaid shirts from the suitcase and laid them in the bottom drawer of the dresser leaving me the two top drawers. “She’s the one I spoke with most of the time about the disturbances.”

  “Do they happen here?” I hoped so.

  “No, not here,” Luke replied. He placed his small bag of toiletries inside the compact bathroom. “But, it’s affecting her revenue so she’s very much interested in finding out what’s going on. We’re meeting her and two other shopkeepers along with the preacher from the Baptist church downstairs in a private dining room.”

  “A preacher?” I was a little surprised. Normally a preacher wouldn’t be involved in our ghost meetings.

  “Reverend Jessup. Joanne said he’s very interested in helping in anyway.”

  “Does he think it’s a demon?”

  Luke closed the now empty suitcase. “I knew that’s what you’d think. I’m not sure, but I bet we’ll find out.”

  I had nothing against the good Reverend attending our ghost meeting. In fact, he might have some useful suggestions. But I have had run ins with preachers before who thought for sure that any earthbound spirit must be evil, and in all my dealings with them, none of them were. That’s not to say there aren’t any, but the ghosts I deal with are misunderstood and lost, not evil.

  A preacher who wants to perform an exorcism without first knowing who the spirit is could send him or her on a flight into the unknown. Many of these spirits remain because it’s the only place they know and can call home. Others want to stay close to loved ones. So if a preacher exorcises these ghosts from their loved ones or their only home, he or she has only made the situation worse. I want to make it better, for both the living and the dead.

  I slipped into a pair of cream colored slacks and a long pink blouse. “They are going to feed us in the dining room right?” I had smelled heavenly aromas as we passed through the restaurant downstairs on the way to our rooms.

  “Of course,” Luke said with a smile. “I made sure to put that in our contract.”

  Chapter Three

  Syd looked refreshed in her jeans and smock, and her hair pulled back into a tiny ponytail. Her dark red locks made her porcelain skin stand out. Syd was short, and a little chunky, but she had a beautiful face with sparkling blue eyes. She was also tough as nails and a good partner for Goog. Like a gentleman he pulled out the chair for her to sit. Of course Syd isn’t into these kinds of mannerisms and she shot him a look that said, ‘I can pull my own chair out.’

  We were introduced by Joanne to a Mr. Hoffman, the proprietor of an antique shop and Mrs. Dunkin who owned one of the art galleries in Willet’s Pike. And of course, Reverend Jessup.

  We all sat at a long wood table, with the ghost team on one side and the townspeople on the other. Joanne sat at one end of the table.

  Luke began. “Can you all explain exactly what you’ve heard and seen, and where these disturbances are happening?”

  “They seem to occur at two specific shops,” Joanne replied.

  “And which shops are those?” Luke asked.

  “One would be my shop I suppose,” Mr. Hoffman replied, softly stroking his white beard. The white hair on his head matched the growth on his chin. “Two customers ran out screaming from my shop a few weeks ago. Said that they heard chains rattling and a man yelling. That’s when it all began.”

  “What part of the shop?” Matt asked.

  “They were in the back. You see, my shop use to be a home. It’s actually one of the oldest homes in this town. I renovated it into a shop over 30 years ago.”

  “And you never had this trouble before?” Syd leaned forward. “No chains rattling or yelling until now?”

  Mrs. Dunkin spoke up. “This town is known for its ghosts, but nothing like this. You might see a shadow in a window, or a blurry apparition, even a child’s laugh…but not this.”

  “Are you having these disturbances in your art gallery?” I asked.

  “Yes I am. Mine are just as unsettling. Moaning and wailing from an unknown source.” Mrs. Dunkin wrung her weathered hands together. She was almost 60 with short brown hair and rectangle glasses. The lenses made her brown eyes appear large.

  “A few of my paintings flew across the room as well. Scared customers out of their wits. News travels fast and customers are avoiding my gallery.”

  Joanne spoke up. “So you can see our dilemma. The more antics this ghost prevails upon us, the worse it will become. Most of our tourists are seniors. They’re aware of ghostly apparitions, but not these terror filled episodes. We don’t need them keeling over from fright.”

  Mr. Hoffman leaned back in his chair and it creaked with resistance. “Yes, one poor soul clutched at his chest and had to be wheeled out on a stretcher last week. It’s definitely bad for business. We have to get to the bottom of this or we’ll all lose our livelihoods.”

  “So when do most of these events occur?” Luke leaned forward in his chair. “During the day, at night, certain times?”

  “Yeah…can you set a clock by them?” I knew Syd was wondering if these incidents might be caused by several individuals. If they were happening at certain times, like late afternoon or evening, it could be kids causing the ruckus after school.

  “At different times, but mainly in the evening,” Joanne answered as she looked at Mr. Hoffman and Mrs. Dunkin. They nodded in the affirmative.

  “I close up shop at 4 o’clock,” Mr. Hoffman added. “I used to stay open until 9pm. Many of my customers would come by after supper, but I don’t dare leave the shop open, not after that poor man almost had a heart attack.”

  Mrs. Dunkin nodded. “Me too. My business has toppled 50 percent.”

  “Was there any kind of clarifying event that coincided with these events?” Goog asked. “Anything that you can remember that happened in the town to cause a spirit to become disgruntled?”

  At this point the good Reverend found his voice. “We had a community worship service in the park right before all the disturbances started. Many of the parishioners have wanted to hold worship services in the city park during the warmer months…which is fine with me. I love to behold God’s creations. People bring lawn chairs or blankets and of course we have the park benches and picnic tables. We are even talking about having Sunday pot lucks after worship service as well.” Reverend Jessup shook his head; his bald widow’s peak gleamed from the overhead light.

  “I’m sorry, I tend to get off track and wander a bit.”

  We smiled. I had a feeling his sermons stretched out too.

  “Anyway, it was right after our first service that these disturbances started occurring. Now I don’t know if they are connected, but that’s the only thing that stands out in my mind.”

  “Thank you Reverend,” Luke replied. “We’ll definitely keep that in mind. Anything else?”

  Joanne and the others shook their head.

  “This is enough for us to get started then,” Luke said as he stood up. “Mr. Hoffman, if you don’t mind we’d like to set up our equipment in your shop for this evening.”

  “That will be fine. I’ll close at 4pm if that gives you enough time before this evening.”

  “That’s plenty of time,” Luke answered as he headed for the door. My husband was always in a hurry.

  “Not before you get some good home cooking from our kitchen,” Joanne announced. “That was part of the deal. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and grilled asparagus is the special for tonight.”

  She didn’t have to ask me twice.

  Chapter Four


  The Hoffman Antiquity store was right on Main Street, just a few doors down from the Hummel House. Stuffed to the gills with two slices of juicy meatloaf, and extra helping of mashed potatoes and gravy, several spears of asparagus, and to top it off, blackberry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, I waddled down to the shop carrying our infrared thermometers. I accidentally let out a rather loud belch as I entered the front door of the shop.

  “Hey Syd, you can put the monitors over here,” Matt yelled out with his back to me.

  “Not Syd,” I said looking around at all the antiquities that were piled on numerous tables.

  Matt spun around with a confused look. “I heard the belch and the only person who came to mind was Syd.”