Chapter Nine - Part One

CHAPTER NINE

Seaside, OR

October 6, 2018

           

Charlie and I made our way down to the Bridge Tender, a nondescript building that looked more like a wooden tinderbox than a tavern.  As we entered the building, I finally took the time to look around.  It was a standard old bar.  A jukebox along one wall.  A pool table in the middle of the room.  Nothing in there suggested what was taking place upstairs in the attic.  I seriously doubted that the patrons of the business had any idea that the place was haunted.  I wouldn’t have - until last night. 

We went through the kitchen to the back room and, once again, made our way up the narrow stairs.  I couldn’t believe I was doing this again. “I must be nuts,” I thought.  “I’m in a locked building with a man I just met yesterday and a ghost who is God only knows how old.”

“It’s not polite to ask a woman’s age, Dear!” said Madam from some unknown place in the room.  There were no windows, so it was dark in there again.  Charlie flipped a switch, and the lights in the chandelier came on.  I still couldn’t see Madam, though.  I’d never dealt with a ghost before and guessed that maybe this was par for the course.  At least I wasn’t as frightened as I’d been the night before.  I did wish she’d stop reading my mind, though.  “That’s rude!” I thought as loudly as I could.

Madam appeared beside me and laughed.  “I promise that I’ll try not to use my ghoulish wiles on you, Susan.  It’s just that I’m not used to people who can actually see me and talk with me.  How are you doing today?  I want to reassure you, again, that your daughter is going to be fine.  She’s probably not having a lot of fun, but this is something that she’s going to have to work through.  Everything in my being suggests to me that she’s with Mr. Benson.  Nicholas is his name, I believe.  The man is dangerous and cunning, but we’re going to find a way to stop him before he does anything to your daughter.  Right, Charles?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Madam.  So, who are we going to be talking with this morning?  We need to get on this so Susie can choose which investigator she wants to work with on this case.”

“Susie, huh?” said Madam looking at us sideways.  “Let’s not get too familiar, Charles.  You know that human emotions can get in the way of spiritual senses.  You’ve worked with me enough times to know that.”

“I’ll consider myself scolded, Madam,” said the detective sounding as though he might not listen to her on this piece of advice.

I said nothing.  “Damned if I'm going to get into an argument with a policeman and a ghost!”  I couldn’t believe that thought even went through my mind.  Maybe I’d started drinking again and just didn’t remember.  No, even this wasn’t going to send me down that road.

“Good.  Let’s move on then,” said Madam forgetting her promise to stop reading my mind. "The first investigator we’re going to talk with is a Native American with whom I’ve worked in the past.  He was a member of the Clatsop Tribe, and lived near here until he died from smallpox.  His record of success in investigating relatively unsolvable crimes will surprise you, and his sense of Spiritual Justice has a certain edge that you might find appealing.  Or appalling.  Depends on how you look at it.” she said cryptically.

“The Chief, as we call him,” she continued, “seldom manifests in front of a living person.  As I said, he died of smallpox.  That, and having been dead for over two hundred years, have a tendency to make him look pretty frightening. 

 Charlie added, “We can use a voice box or a phonetic generator if we need to, but it’s a better idea for you to try meeting with the Chief face to face first.  It’s easier to understand him that way.  I think you can handle it.  Your daughter was a medic in the Air Force.  She must have gotten her chops from somewhere!”

“I don’t remember telling you that.  How’d you know Riley was a medic?” I asked.

“I do my research,” he said.  “It’s part of the job.”

“Alright.  Is the Chief here now?”

The three of us sat down, and the lights immediately began to flicker.  I could feel the hair on the back of my neck and my arms stand straight up.  It felt like the room was full of static electricity.

“Chief?  Is that you?” asked Madam.

At that moment, I saw a very faint outline start to materialize across the table from me.

“Oh, crap!”  I squealed.

The form startled me as it became clearer.  There, in the chair directly opposite from me sat a hideous looking entity.  I could tell that it was a person, but his hair was matted and smelled horrible.  His face was covered with grotesque pock marks, and he had only one eye. 

“Spotted Disease,” he said.  “Me very old.  Still smart.”  He smiled a toothless smile.  “What you want to know?”

Madam spoke first.  “Chief, this is Susan Edwards.  One of her daughters disappeared last night from the sidewalk on Broadway Street.  She needs to find her as quickly as possible.”

“Ummhh,” was all he said.

“I, I thank you for coming here, Sir,” I fumbled.

“Chief,” he said.

“OK.  Chief,” I stammered.  “Do you think you can find my daughter before it’s too late?”

“What too late?” he asked.

“Before she’s dead!” I snapped.  “I don’t want her to die.  I don’t want her to be raped!  I don’t want her to be hurt!”  As I got more emphatic, the image of him became clearer.  Charlie explained later that ghosts are able to use a person's emotional energy to materialize. 

“What too late?” he asked again, ignoring my exasperation.

Charlie chimed in.  “Chief, Mrs. Edwards. . .”

“Miss Edwards,” I corrected him.

“Miss Edwards wants to find her daughter right away.  We think we know where she is, but we need to get her back before the person she’s with hurts her.”

“Nobody hurt her,” said the Chief.

“How do you know?” I asked. 

“No explain.  Just know,” he answered.

Now it was Madam’s turn.  “Chief, maybe you can tell Miss Edwards about one of the investigations you’ve done for the Seaside Agency in the past.  That might help her to understand how this works.”

The Chief answered, “No do investigations for Seaside Agency.  Me do investigations for Great Spirit.”

“Ok,” I said.  “Will you please tell me about an investigation you’ve done for the Great Spirit?  Please make it one that turned out well.”

“All be just,” he said.

“What do you mean ‘All be just’?” I asked the chief.

“I think he means that in all of the investigations he’s done, the outcome has resulted in what we call ‘Spiritual Justice,’” answered Charlie.  The Chief shook his head in the affirmative.

I noticed that he was starting to fade a bit.  Madam also looked as though she was getting a trifle hazy.  I didn’t know if it was them or me.  Or maybe both, I thought.  This was all so new to me that I was feeling emotionally drained.  I also remembered the pink eye that the young man at the hotel had so quickly passed off as an air circulation problem and wondered if puss was starting to ooze from my eyes.  The thought momentarily made me feel self-conscious until I remembered what the Chief looked like, and how little he seemed to care about his physical appearance.

“Learn that when you die,” the Chief said.  “If smart, learn it before die.”

“Oh great,” I remarked.  “Can everyone here read my mind?  Do I have any private thoughts at all?”

“No need,” said the Chief.  “What we going to do with your thoughts?  You don’t know things.”

He was right.  I was a big anxious mass of unnerved cells with no thoughts of my own at that moment.  I didn’t know what had happened to Megan, and I didn’t know how to get her back.

“Me do this before,” he said.

“When?” I asked.

“Short time ago.  Nineteen seventy three.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“Girl disappear.  She in big city.  Call mother.  Say she coming home next day.  Never came home.  No one see her again.” 

 I leaned in towards him, forgetting about his decrepit façade.  The story had already pulled me in.  “Did you know what happened to her?” I questioned.

“Yes.  Evil man.  No conscience.  Tell girl he will drive her to mother’s house.  Instead, strangle her.”

“Oh, no!” I hollered.  “Would you know if someone had done that to my Megan?”

“Already tell you.  No one hurt Megan.  You not listen?” he admonished me.

“I, I’m sorry,” I muttered.  “It wasn’t my intention to be disrespectful.  I’m just so worried!”

“Be alright,” the Chief stated.  “Your daughters, you, be alright.  Now I finish story.”