Key to a Haunting Page 3

  “Let me see it, John.”

  “Father, I can explain.”

  “I’m sure you can.”

  “Father, I gave the bracelet as a token of my affection.”

  “To who?”

  A phone rang in the background unanswered. No one was going to answer it and miss the family drama unfolding in front of them.

  The manager spoke up. “I figured she stole it. Girl like that wouldn’t have any use for something so fancy.”

  “Who?” asked Mr. Harris again.

  “Mar… ” the manager started to say.

  John spoke rapidly, “I gave it to a girl as a token of my affection. Margarita must have found it. I’m sure she planned to return the bracelet.”

  “Margarita was wearing it,” the manager said softly.

  John’s eyes narrowed as he dangled the broken bracelet in front of the manager's face. “How? It’s broken.”

  “She was wearing it.”

  John faced the manager and leaned in. “I’m sure she would have returned the bracelet, given the chance.”

  The manager stepped back further and turned to Mr. Harris. “Sorry for the inconvenience, sir.”

  “Fine.” Mr. Harris waved his hand to send him off and pulled John aside. “Who is Margarita? And will someone answer that phone?”

  John’s eyes wandered to the far wall, his mind racing to form an explanation when he heard people gasp in alarm.

  “Mr. Harris! Mr. Blanc! Betty just called, there’s a fire on the eighth floor!”

  “Smoke!” John's gaze followed the pointing fingers. Smoke rose up like long tendrils of black hair.

  “Calm down, everyone! Head to the roof,” Mr. Harris commanded.

  John turned as the people nearest the elevator doors ran and crammed themselves inside. The elevator operator yelled above the crush of people trying to get in, “Mr. Harris!”

  “Go on, it’s all right. We’re heading to the roof,” called out Mr. Blanc, whose desk stood a few feet away. He strode to Mr. Harris and clapped him on the back. “Thank goodness this building is fire-proof,” he said as he moved to the fire escape door.

  A crowd blocked his path. Mr. Blanc raised a meaty fist in the air. He opened his hand slightly. A dull metallic key dropped down and swung back and forth from a gold chain. “Make way! I have the key.”

  John's eyes fixated on the key swinging above Mr. Blanc's head. He turned toward his father. “Margarita’s on the ninth floor. Who else has the key?”

  “John, we need to get to the roof, now.” His father took hold of John's jacket and dragged him to the fire escape door.

  “Who else has the key?” John shouted trying to pull free. As they neared the fire escape door, John saw Mr. Blanc heading up the stairs. “The key! Mr. Blanc, I need the key!”

  Mr. Blanc shouted over his shoulder. “Get to the roof, son, we’ll be fine there.”

  “Please, Mr. Blanc! I need to open the fire escape door on the ninth floor.” John ran after him, shoving people aside. He heard angry cries and some people shoved back. Mr. Blanc stood by the open doorway to the roof. John caught a glimpse of bright blue sky above his head.

  “Mr. Blanc I need the key!”

  John saw a puzzled look cross Mr. Blanc's face as he stared for a moment at the key he held in his hand. He looked at John and replied, “Don't worry John, Betty has the other key. She's probably already opened the door and let everyone out.”

  As John reached the open doorway, the panic that had tightened John's chest lessened. He knew Betty to be a firm, but kind-hearted woman. Even though he was sure Betty would get everyone out of the ninth floor, he still needed to see for himself. He looked over his shoulder to tell his father when a rolling black cloud of smoke billowed out, smudging the afternoon sky.

  John caught his father as he spilled out of the doorway onto the roof and set him down gently. He turned and snatched the key from Mr. Blanc's hand.

  As he raced into the blackened stairway, he heard his father begging him to come back.

  9th floor

  Margarita wrapped both hands around the door knob and tugged at the fire escape door. She heard Angelica behind. “It’s locked until the shift is over.”

  She slammed her palm down on the door. “I have to get out of here, right now. Who has the key?”

  “Miss Betty downstairs. You'll have to take the elevator.”

  Margarita spun on her heel, pushed past her friend and started running down the aisle toward the elevators.

  The elevator glided into view. Margarita paused at the sight of the elevator jammed full of people. Angelica called out behind her, “Margarita, just come back to work.”

  A scream pierced the air. “Smoke!” She spun around and saw a girl pointing out the window. Black smoke floated heavenward.

  Margarita turned in a circle watching the smoke fan out and spread down both rows of windows lining the room. Girls jumped up from their chairs and scurried to the center of the floor. She felt someone squeeze her arm. Angelica's frightened eyes stared into hers. Seconds ticked by of confused quiet murmuring until fingers of flame reached between the floor boards. Margarita and Angelica clutched each other. The circle of girls burst apart. Some ran for the elevators, while others ran to the fire escape door.

  At the elevators, the only man working on her floor, a sewing machine mechanic, and several girls were prying the elevator doors open. When the elevator doors gave way, the mechanic and girls started tumbling into the black hole. She jerked her head away and squeezed her eyes shut.

  Breaking glass made Margarita open her eyes again. Smoke rolled into the room making her choke and cough. She spun with her friend in a tight circle, holding their ground as all around them girls were jumping out of the windows and down the elevator shaft. A small group of girls who had chosen to stay by the fire escape door in the hopes that someone would open it were engulfed in flames.

  Margarita made her decision. She drug Angelica to an open window, tears streaming down her face. She climbed up on the window sill, then reached down and pulled Angelica up. Margarita took Angelica's hand and looked down. Groups of men held blankets trying to catch the falling girls. Angelica whispered, “Don't look down.” Margarita met her eyes, took both of her hands and jumped.

  The Roof

  John fell out of the fire escape doorway. He heard his father yell for help, then felt hands dragging him away from the smoke that was choking him. He lay coughing violently unable to speak or hardly breathe. A handkerchief was pressed to his eyes. His ears rang with sirens, shouts, screams, and thuds like sacks of potatoes being stacked up in a pile.

  The black smoke was too thick. He never made it to the ninth floor and the thuds and screams that reached his ears left a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. The people on the ninth floor were dying. John sat huddled in on himself through the chaos, tears streaming down his blackened face. The key to the fire escape door slipped from his hand and made a small clink as it landed safely on the roof.

  9

  The Paranormal Posse met in front of the Harris building. “That’s new,” said Hector, pointing to the lighted Harris Building sign over the entrance.

  Marcos knocked on the side entrance. No one answered. He turned and shrugged to the rest of the group. “Maybe he's running late.” Everyone set down their gear and waited.

  Hector called Mr. Harris on his phone. No answer. They waited for forty-five minutes and still no one appeared to let them in to investigate.

  “Maybe he forgot the day?” asked Bev.

  “We confirmed the details several times,” Marcos said as he dialed the number one more time. “You don’t think something happened to him?”

  “Nah.” Hector picked up his backpack. “Something came up or he forgot. I’m sorry, guys, this is totally beyond our control.”

  “It happens,” Tony said. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  As Marcos opened the door to Ruli's, Hector’s phone rang. “Hello, Mr. Harris?”<
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  Hector motioned for the rest of the Posse to go on, then turned around and sat down at one of the outdoor tables. Tony groaned and Bev rolled her eyes.

  “Well, of course he would call now,” Bev said.

  “Come on, lets grab a table,” said Marcos.

  Hector returned to the group ten minutes later and sat down in front of a frosty mug of beer. He took a sip.

  “Well, what happened?” asked Marcos.

  “We’re not investigating.”

  “I think we figured that one out. Did he forget?”

  “No, I mean we are not investigating, as in ever.”

  “What the hell happened? He was all gung ho a couple of days ago.”

  “From what I gathered, his father caught wind of the investigation and said ‘No way.’ Something about it being bad for business, the reputation of the building, the usual blah, blah, blah.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him this wasn’t going to show up on the news. We do private investigations all the time. He didn’t want to hear it.”

  “Y-ho-le!”

  “But, I did convince him to let us arrange a house blessing. I told him it might put the spirits at ease.”

  “Do you have someone in mind for the blessing?”

  “Yep, Father Eugenio. He's a friend of my family and he works as a chaplain at the University Medical Center downtown. Since its close, I'm hoping he can help us out on short notice.”

  “When are we doing this?”

  “Allen said the sooner the better so I told him tomorrow afternoon.” Hector faced Bev and Tony. “Sorry to waste your time like this.”

  “Hey, there's beer and good company. Not a waste of time at all,” said Bev.

  Hector raised his mug and everyone clinked their mugs together. “Here's to all the ghosts out there. May they rest in peace.”

  Hector and Marcos met Father Eugenio outside the Harris Building the next afternoon.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Hector said as he led him into the elevator.

  “I told you this morning, it was no trouble at all. How’s your family?”

  “Good.”

  “I was at the hospital on Sunday. How was the service?”

  Hector shifted back and forth. “I don't know Father. It’s been a long time since I've been to a Sunday service.”

  “You know services are at 6:30 in the evening, too, if you're busy on Sunday mornings.”

  “Here we are,” Marcos said as the elevator doors opened.

  Hector jumped in front of them. “His office is right around the corner.”

  Hector turned the corner and found Allen sitting at his desk. “Allen, this is Father Eugenio.”

  “Father, it's a pleasure to meet you. Please have a seat. Marcos can you grab another chair?”

  “Sure.”

  Hector waited for Marcos, then turned to Allen. “So, do you have any questions?”

  “A bunch.”

  Hector chuckled, “Great. I'm going to let the Father take it from here then.”

  “So this is a house blessing?” Allen asked.

  “Yes,” Father Eugenio replied.

  “You’re going to bless each condo?”

  “I can. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “I’m not Catholic, Father.”

  “We can fix that.”

  Hector noticed Allen's puzzled expression. “Don’t worry, he pesters me all the time.”

  Father Eugenio faced Hector. “I wouldn’t use the word ‘pestering.’”

  “Nagging, then?”

  “Hectoring,” Marcos added with a grin.

  Hector watched Allen fidgeting with a pen. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “Father, do you believe in ghosts? I think it's kind of strange a priest would be involved with something like this.”

  “Yes, the church has strict rules on what to do, but I can tell you, I’ve experienced strange things at the hospital. I can also tell you prayer is the right way to handle any situation.”

  “If you don’t mind sharing, what have you seen at the hospital?”

  “Oh, nothing spectacular. Sometimes equipment starts acting up. The switchboard will start to go haywire and the operators will ask me to stop by. The heart monitors at the nurse’s station start working again as if someone is in the room, and no one is there.”

  “And you go in and bless the room?”

  “Yes, and we pray.”

  “And that fixes it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it ever happen again?”

  “Sometimes. Many people die in a hospital, even within one day.”

  “So it happens again because more people die.”

  “That’s been my experience.”

  “I’m sorry for backing out of the investigation, guys. My father’s reaction surprised me when I let slip what we were going to do.”

  “I don’t think you need to apologize for a good decision,” said Father Eugenio.

  “You don’t approve of this ‘ghost hunting’?”

  “Not exactly,” said Hector.

  “No, not at all,” said Father Eugenio. “Let me make this very clear. The Bible says we are not to contact spirits in any way.”

  “Do you think they’re bad?” said Allen.

  “Not all ghosts are demons. In fact, some people have categorized seven different kinds of ghosts. There’s even one type that appears bright and happy, bringing messages of hope and love from a friend or family member to comfort us. I think God’s compassion allows this sort of thing.” Father Eugenio leaned forward. “However, Satan may be using these spirits to feed an unhealthy curiosity that could lead to danger. God warns, against contacting the dead because He fears for our soul.”

  “This is why we get along so well,” said Hector, motioning between himself and Father Eugenio.

  Everyone waited while Allen tapped his pen against the top of his desk. “I would rather not be bothered by these… ghosts, apparitions, whatever you want to call them. I don’t want anyone who stays here to be bothered by them either.”

  Hector leaned forward to speak, but Father Eugenio interrupted him. “Then let’s go make peace with this house.”

  Hector led Father Eugenio as he moved from apartment to apartment and room to room, his voice ringing loud and clear: “Oh God, protect our going out and our coming in; Let us share the hospitality of this home with all who visit us, that those who enter here may know your love and peace. O God, give your blessings to all who share this room, that we may be knit together in companionship.”

  “O God, you fill the hungry with good things. Send your blessing on us, as we work in this kitchen, and make us ever thankful for our daily bread. Blessed are you, Lord of heaven and earth, for you give us food and drink to sustain our lives and make our hearts glad.

  “Protect us, Lord, as we stay awake; watch over us as we sleep, that awake we may keep watch with Christ, and asleep, we may rest in his peace. Blessed are you, Lord of heaven and earth. You formed us in wisdom and love. Refresh us in body and in spirit, and keep us in good health that we might serve you.”

  Hector led them back to the elevators where Father Eugenio turned and said, “Peace be with this house and with all who live here. Blessed by the name of the Lord.”

  Silence rang out for a moment. Hector watched as Father Eugenio shook Allen’s hand and entered the elevator. He stood in front of Allen. “If there is anything you need, don't hesitate to call me or Marcos anytime.”

  ***

  Allen stared at the elevator doors. He felt calm. Laurie and his daughters went to church on Sundays. Maybe he should start joining them.

  He turned around and walked to his office door. Allen blinked his eyes as a form materialized and moved toward him. It was another young girl, beautiful, with an outstretched hand. She appeared dysphoric. Through the sadness, Allen was certain she wanted something from him. Between one blink and the next, she vanished.

  O
K, thought Allen, It’s not the building that’s haunted… it’s me.

  10

  Allen arrived at his parents’ house, dazed from yet another encounter with a ghost. His plan was to collapse on his bed and drink the memory away, for tonight at least.

  In the living room, he found his mother perched on the edge of a chair, her eyes swollen and red.