Entry 11: The Case of the Spiteful Spirit, Part 2 of 2 Posts
And the other half....
Title: The Case of the Spiteful Spirit, Part 2
Entry Number: 11
Author: insaneladybug/Lucky_Ladybug
Fandom: Perry Mason
Rating: PG-13/T (ghostly goings-on, possession, attempted killings)
Genre: Supernatural/Horror
Spoiler Warnings: For season 5's The Meddling Medium
Word Count: 8,760
By Lucky_Ladybug
Even after the paramedics proclaimed in bewilderment that Sampson seemed to be fine, he refused to so much as approach the house again. He was thoroughly shaken, fearful that taking even one step towards it would cause either the unsettling pseudo death or a genuine death. He wanted to see everyone in the house come out of the house and stay out.
“It’s just not safe,” he insisted from where he was sitting in his car. “You could all go to a motel until the problem is solved.”
But Mrs. Walker shook her head. “This is my home and I intend to stay here, Gregory,” she told him. “Whatever’s haunting the house hasn’t done anything to us so far. Maybe it just doesn’t like you in specific.”
“Or maybe what it did to me was only a warning to all of you,” Sampson frowned. “I don’t want to see any of you get hurt.”
Mrs. Walker patted his hand. “We’ll be just fine. I’m sure Thomas and maybe even Kenneth will protect us. Maybe they protected you.”
“Oh, maybe,” Sampson conceded, “but Mrs. Walker . . .”
“Mrs. Germaine should be by soon, and then maybe we can get all of this cleared up once and for all,” Mrs. Walker declared.
Sampson sighed, slumping back in the seat.
Hamilton sighed too, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Greg, you really should go to bed,” he said. “I’d be happy to drive you home.”
Sampson looked up at the man he worked for and idolized. “Thank you, Mr. Burger, but I feel I should stay here,” he said. “I know there’s really nothing I can do, but I can’t stand to think of leaving them here with a treacherous problem like this.”
Perry came over to the car and looked in. “How are you feeling, Mr. Sampson?” he greeted.
“I’m fine now, thank you,” Sampson said with a tinge of impatience. “I’m only worried about the people who live here and insist on staying here, even with so much trouble befalling them and others.”
Perry rested his arm on top of the car. “Well, personally I think that this attack on you is the key to the entire mystery,” he declared. “It fully seemed to be malevolently directed at you and specifically you. I don’t buy that Helen Garden would assault you, at least not for the reasons you cited.”
“And what other reasons would she have?” Sampson grunted.
“That’s what I want to find out,” Perry said. “Were you involved in any way with her trial and conviction?”
“That was Mr. Burger’s case,” Sampson frowned. “Although . . .” He paused. “Mr. Burger ended up being unavailable on the day of sentencing. I went in his place.”
Hamilton nodded. “That’s right, I remember. But Perry, I conducted the trial against her. If you’re trying to say her ghost tried to kill Sampson because of the sentencing . . .” He laughed under his breath in spite of himself. “. . . Then she should have gone after me, too. I was right in the house and nothing happened to me!”
“Yes, but that was after Bonnie collapsed,” Perry mused. “Perhaps the malevolent ghost isn’t there all the time, but only sometimes. When you arrived, Hamilton, it might have already left.”
Hamilton shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” he declared. “Perry, you’re supposed to be a logical, sensible lawyer. Of course, you bend the law to your own purposes whenever you feel like it, but aside from that . . .”
Perry just smiled. “Are ghosts really so illogical as all that? Actually, Hamilton, sometimes you and other skeptics are so intent on coming up with other explanations no matter what that your so-called ‘logical’ versions are more ridiculous than the thought of spirits.”
“Well, I think everything that’s happened here tonight has definitely disturbed Lieutenant Tragg’s protégé Andy,” Hamilton said. “He’s wondering if he even still wants to be in such an area where people are supposedly dropping dead and everyone else believes the dead did it.”
“That, unfortunately, can’t be helped,” Perry answered. “If Lieutenant Anderson wants to leave, he’s welcome to do so.”
“Mr. Burger, you don’t mean he’s thinking of asking for a transfer,” Della piped up as she came over.
“Right now, I don’t think he knows what he wants to do,” Hamilton answered. “Lieutenant Tragg’s baffled too. Of course, this isn’t even their jurisdiction. I just asked them to come when I thought . . .” He trailed off, glancing at Sampson.
“When you thought I was dead,” Sampson mumbled, leaning back in the seat and holding a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burger.”
“It isn’t your fault, Sampson,” Hamilton returned. “You came here hoping to help.”
“Yes, and look what I’ve caused now.” Sampson took his hand away from his eyes. “Does anyone know if Bonnie is feeling any better?”
“Well, she’s certainly overjoyed that you’re not dead, Mr. Sampson,” Della smiled kindly at him.
“But she’s still distraught from thinking that something took over her body to get me into that state,” Sampson concluded.
Della sighed. “I’m afraid so,” she said.
Perry frowned. “I’d hate to put her through anything more at this point, but perhaps if she could go into a trance and perform automatic writing, at least one of the spirits would tell us something more about what’s going on.”
“She can’t control when it happens, Perry,” Della protested.
“I know she can’t,” Perry agreed. “But I’m wondering if it would be possible for her to learn.”
Sampson frowned. “If you play around with things like that, eventually you’re going to get burned. You don’t know what kinds of spirits you’d be opening the door to.”
“I know,” Perry said. “That’s what’s always dangerous about matters of the occult. Even if you have a relatively harmless goal in mind, it would just take one malevolent spirit to turn it all upsidedown.”
Hamilton stood by, looking more amused than anything else. “Perry, you’ve been watching too many late-night horror movies on television,” he scolded lightly. “And you too, Greg. Honestly, I think I’d better drive you home now.”
Sampson sighed. “Alright. I suppose I can’t really do any good here tonight anyhow. I just wish they’d leave!”
“They won’t,” Perry said. “Mrs. Walker certainly won’t, and Bonnie won’t leave her.”
“And Michael won’t leave Bonnie,” Della added.
“Yes, I know.” Sampson pulled down the seatbelt and reached to close the door. “Please let me know how Mrs. Germaine’s visit turns out.”
Perry smiled. “We’ll be sure to. You get a good night’s rest.”
“I’ll see that he gets to bed,” Hamilton promised. “But Greg, if I’m going to drive you, I need to be in the driver’s seat.”
“Hmm? Oh, of course.” Sampson sighed and undid the seatbelt, woozily climbing across the stick shift to sit in the passenger seat.
“You’re sure you’re alright,” Della said in concern, leaning closer to the window to look in at him.
“Yes, thank you,” Sampson said, again pulling down the seatbelt.
Hamilton got into the driver’s seat and started to back out of the driveway. Perry and Della moved to give them room.
“Where is Bonnie, Della?” Perry queried.
Della looked back towards the house. “Dr. Younger was still trying to convince her to take the sedative,” she said. “But she wants to stay awake for when Mrs. Germaine comes.”
“Speaking of that, here she is.” Perry watched as an old blue sedan came up the winding driveway to park with the other cars. Mignon alighted, taking in the scene with visible curiosity in her dark eyes.
“Mr. Mason,” she greeted when she took note of him. “Miss Street.” She walked over, concern on her features now. “Has something else happened?”
“Something has, I’m afraid,” Perry said. “Something in that house attempted to murder one of Hamilton’s deputies, Gregory Sampson.”
“Oh no.” Mignon gripped her purse. “Is he alright?”
“Relatively,” Perry said. “He claims that he was never dead, as he indeed appeared to be, and that instead the spirit made him look dead for as long as he was in the house. He only revived the moment he left the bottom step.”
“Do you know of anything that could cause such an awful thing, Mrs. Germaine?” Della asked in concern.
“The spirit would have to be malevolent, Miss Street,” Mignon said. “A benign or benevolent spirit would never do such a thing unless they were protecting someone, and they would surely know that there would be nothing to fear from Mr. Sampson.”
“Yes, surely they would,” Perry nodded. They started to walk to the house. “What are your plans, Mrs. Germaine?”
“First I will see what I can sense of the spirits present in the house,” Mignon said. “Then I will inquire as to what they want. We’ll see whether or not they answer.”
“They may answer through Bonnie Craig,” Perry remarked as they reached the porch. Opening the front door, he let Mignon and Della enter before stepping inside himself and pulling the door shut.
Hearing the door, Mrs. Walker hurried over. “Mrs. Germaine?” she greeted hopefully.
“Yes.” Mignon looked to the worried woman. “I just heard about what happened tonight. I am so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Walker said with a weak smile, “but it could have been so much worse. I’m just thankful that Helen or whoever that was didn’t kill poor Gregory.”
Mignon nodded. “That is most certainly a blessing.” She glanced around the spacious parlor. “This is a beautiful house. But I sense much sadness here.”
“There has been, especially ever since these strange things started to happen,” Mrs. Walker said. “Come, I’ll take you through the house and explain in detail what’s been going on.”
“Thank you,” Mignon said, “but I will need silence in order to sense the spirits. Perhaps they will tell me themselves what they have been up to.”
She walked ahead, calm and composed as she sought the other occupants of the house. Mrs. Walker trailed behind her, with Perry and Della behind her.
When she entered the living room, Bonnie, Michael, Mrs. Paisley, and Dr. Younger all looked up. Mignon stopped, listening, contemplating what she felt.
“There is a presence here,” she said at last. “It doesn’t feel malevolent. It wants to communicate.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Is it Thomas?”
“I don’t know,” Mignon said. “Mrs. Craig, Mr. Mason tells me that you have a mild level of extra sensory perception and that spirits have used you to channel their writing.”
“They have.” Bonnie averted her gaze. “And I’m afraid one of them tried to use me to kill Greg tonight.”
Mignon regarded her kindly. “If the spirit would agree to give us a message through you, it would be helpful. But I fully understand if you don’t feel you can allow that.”
“If the spirit wants to, I wouldn’t have any choice,” Bonnie said. “I just blank out whenever it happens.”
Della happened to glance towards the window. “There’s mist here because of the rain,” she remarked. Stunned, she went on, “And it looks like something is using it to write.”
Everyone hurried to the window, wanting to witness the sight for themselves. And indeed, as they observed, an unseen finger was writing in the mist.
Philip.
“Phil?!” Mrs. Paisley cried in disbelief.
“You’re Philip?” Mignon calmly queried, while Bonnie gasped. “Are you the one who attacked Mr. Sampson tonight?”
The answer came without hesitation.
No!
“It’s possible the spirit was responding to your first question and not your second,” Perry mused.
“Or both questions at once,” Della suggested, “if the answer is No to both.”
“If you know who attacked him, please tell us,” Mignon requested.
I don’t know.
“Now, I find that hard to believe,” Michael spoke up. “Aren’t all the mysteries of life supposed to be unlocked once you’re dead?”
“Not necessarily all,” Perry replied. “But we are faced with a conundrum. We don’t know that we’re actually speaking with Philip, nor do we know that whoever it is tells the truth about the assault.”
“If you are Philip, why are you still in this house?” Mignon persisted. “Your murderer has been caught. You should have moved on.”
Can’t.
“Why?” Bonnie exclaimed, finding her voice at last. “Why can’t you move on, Philip? Haven’t you done enough to this family?! Can’t you leave us in peace now that you’re dead?”
How I wish I could.
Bonnie scowled. “It’s Philip, alright,” she declared.
Mrs. Paisley scowled too. “Well, I don’t blame him for not wanting to be stuck here, of all places. Why would he?”
Bonnie looked to her. “You know, Elaine, you found out that Philip and I weren’t having an affair. Doesn’t that help your opinion of us any? We didn’t like Philip, but he didn’t give us much reason to. And we weren’t hypocritically disliking him while we knew we were committing sins just as bad, as you thought we were.”
Elaine crossed her arms and looked away, not wanting to concede to that truth.
Ladies, please.
Mrs. Walker stepped forward. “Philip, have you been helping us around the house, opening doors and turning on lights and such?”
Thomas.
“Well, of course that wouldn’t be Philip,” Bonnie sighed.
“Aside from yourself and Thomas, don’t you know who else is in this house?” Mignon queried.
Helen, sometimes.
Bonnie shivered.
“But you can’t say that Helen is the person who assaulted Mr. Sampson?” Mignon persisted.
I can’t say.
“Does that mean you know that there is someone other than you three in this house?”
Yes.
“You know that much, but you don’t know who it is?” Bonnie retorted in disbelief. “Come, Philip. You’ve joined the beings in the beyond. Surely you know how many of them have taken up residence in our once-happy home!” Her voice caught on the last sentence and Michael drew an arm around her shoulders.
We were never introduced.
“Can you describe them?” Mignon asked.
A sudden wave of frost swept over the room and all its occupants. When they dared look at the window again, all of the writing was gone.
In its place were five streaks down the glass, as though the fingers of a hand had clawed at it while the owner was slipping in pain to the floor.
****
Bonnie’s hands shook as she took the mug of hot chocolate from Della. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They were in the kitchen, at the island in the middle of the floor. Della sat next to her, crossing her arms on the counter. Bonnie was still much too pale and Della was concerned. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked, gently.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bonnie sipped the hot beverage and then set the mug down. “It’s been such a horrible night. First that scare with Greg and now this. . . .” She shook her head. “I could never bring myself to like Philip one bit, but knowing that he was apparently here, and quite possibly attacked by whatever got Greg. . . .” She sighed. “On the other hand, maybe this is some sickening, macabre joke of Philip’s and he’s just fine. Or as fine as an earthbound spirit can be, that is.” She gave a dark smirk. “He’d play a trick like that, you know.”
“I never met him,” Della said.
“You can be glad of that,” Bonnie said. “Oh, I know we’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but . . .” She took up the mug again. “He was such a case. He probably still is. That’s probably why he can’t move on.”
“Mrs. Germaine has been trying to communicate with him or Thomas or any of the other spirits,” Della said slowly.
“And she hasn’t had any luck, has she?” Bonnie said as she looked up.
“I’m afraid she hasn’t,” Della admitted. “Everything’s been quiet since the writing on the window disappeared.”
“Not even any activity in the ghost room?” Bonnie said wryly. “That’s what Mike calls it.”
“I think Mrs. Germaine is up there right now,” Della said.
“And has been for the past half-hour,” Perry said as he wandered into the kitchen. “The spirits aren’t lending themselves to cooperation tonight. I’m afraid we’ve probably seen the last paranormal activity for a while, anyway.”
“Oh, Perry, maybe Greg is right,” Bonnie moaned. “Maybe we should get out of here. So far this spirit has harmed both another spirit and a living man. What’s to keep it from murdering all of us in our sleep tonight?!”
“How does your mother feel about leaving?” Perry returned.
“She still doesn’t want to go,” Bonnie sighed. “Dr. Younger is trying to convince her that she should.”
“Surely Dr. Younger hasn’t come around to the idea that there are actually ghosts here,” Della said in surprise.
Bonnie half-smirked. “Not Dr. Younger. He’s still trying to think some living person is managing to do all of this. But he’s worried what they’ll try next.”
“And for good reason,” Perry said. “It is a worry.”
Bonnie sighed. “And Elaine doesn’t want to go now, of course. She’s worried about Philip. Not that she can do anything for him.”
The ring of Perry’s cellphone abruptly interrupted the tense moment. Frowning, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “Yes, Paul?” he greeted, recognizing the detective’s number.
“Hi, Perry,” Paul answered. “I’ve been looking up that information you wanted. Turns out there was more than one criminal death in California the night Helen Garden was killed. And get this-Deputy D.A. Sampson prosecuted this other guy’s trial.”
“Excellent work, Paul,” Perry praised. “You might not like the next task so well.”
Paul sighed. “And what, might I ask, is that going to be?”
“Oh, finding out all you can about said man and any possible interactions he had with Mr. Sampson,” Perry said.
“And of course, I can only find that out from Mr. Sampson,” Paul deduced.
“And maybe Mr. Burger,” Perry added.
Paul exhaled in exasperation. “Perry, they’re probably both asleep. Like I should be right now!”
“You can go right after you try to question those two,” Perry said. “There’s a chance they might still be awake.”
“Uh huh, a chance,” Paul echoed. “And if they’re not?”
“Then I suppose it will have to wait until morning,” Perry said.
“At least something will,” Paul muttered. Louder he said, “Okay, Perry. I’ll see what I can find out, if anything.”
“Thanks, Paul,” Perry smiled. “I’ll be sure there’s a bonus in this for you.”
“There had better be,” Paul quipped.
****
The lights were still on when Paul drove up to Sampson’s home and parked. He would be inclined to think that perhaps Sampson was simply too spooked to sleep with them off, considering he lived alone, but he supposed he was going to have to approach the abode and find out. Sighing, he got out of his car and headed for the porch.
Hamilton opened the door just as Paul reached it. “We heard your car pull up,” he explained. “But Paul, what are you doing here?”
“I came because Perry wanted me to ask Mr. Sampson some questions,” Paul said as he stepped into the entryway.
“About the attack?” Hamilton frowned. “Paul, Greg isn’t feeling well after tonight. The last thing he needs is to be disturbed by . . .”
“I’m not going to ask about the attack,” Paul interrupted. “Perry wants me to ask about some guy named Wilton Marius.”
Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “That murderer? The case is over and done with. Marius committed suicide two weeks ago, after being sentenced to the death penalty.”
Paul sighed. “Well, I don’t really know what Perry’s got on his mind, but he wanted me to find out how Marius felt about Mr. Sampson.”
“Very hateful and bitter,” came Sampson’s voice as he limped out from what was probably a bedroom. He rested a hand on the doorframe. “He threatened me many times. When the guard found him dead in his cell, he also discovered that Marius had written on a paper in red ink that this wasn’t over and I would never be safe from him.”
Paul gave a low whistle. “So he expected to come after you from the grave?”
“That was certainly what he seemed to want to do,” Sampson acknowledged.
Hamilton scoffed. “Oh, look, Paul. Maybe he wanted to. That doesn’t mean there was any way possible that he could. Are you trying to say that maybe he attacked Greg tonight?”
“That might be what Perry’s thinking,” Paul said. “Like I said, I don’t know. But he was found dead on the night Helen Garden was executed, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was,” Hamilton said, folding his arms. “Although I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”
Paul sighed. “I don’t either, unless Perry’s trying to say that maybe the guy attached himself to Helen’s spirit after her execution and they both went out to the Walker estate or something.”
Hamilton looked like he was trying not to laugh. Sampson, meanwhile, looked disturbed.
“Wilton Marius was a madman,” Sampson proclaimed. “He was given the death penalty because he committed two very brutal murders without a sliver of remorse. He was a man filled with hatred towards the entire world. If the spirit does continue after death, I can’t imagine that his attitude would change any.” He gripped the doorframe. “And if Mr. Mason honestly believes he’s taken up residence at the Walker estate, it’s a wonder every one of those people aren’t dead by now!”
Hamilton sobered. “Paul, you’re upsetting Greg,” he said. “He’s going to have a terrible time going to sleep now, and he badly needs rest.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Paul said. “I didn’t really want to come here in the middle of the night. You know how Perry is.”
“Yes, I know.” Hamilton started to move towards the door. “And you can go back and tell him what we said and he’ll probably have Mignon thinking it really is true, or at least that it could be.”
Paul nodded. “Thanks for your help, both of you,” he said, walking to the door and opening it before Hamilton could do it. “Mr. Sampson, I hope you feel better.”
“Thank you,” Sampson acknowledged.
He stumbled into the living room once Paul had left. “Mr. Burger, I don’t like what Mr. Drake is suggesting,” he said, troubled. “Whatever came after me was definitely filled with hatred. If we acknowledge the existence of spirits, and assume that I was assaulted by one, it stands to reason that it had something specifically against me.”
“Sampson, you’re letting your imagination run wild,” Hamilton objected.
“Well, they can’t find any trace of poisons or other ill substances in my body,” Sampson countered, “and wouldn’t it be too much of a coincidence for something that made me appear dead to wear off only when I departed the premises?”
“Sampson, you’d be amazed at what coincidences can cause,” Hamilton said, shaking his head. “But come on, you need to get to bed if you want to have any hope of making it to court tomorrow.” He frankly thought Sampson should stay home, but he knew Sampson was still hoping to get to work. They would see in the morning if he were well enough. That is, if he ever got to sleep so his body could mend from the shock.
Sampson sighed, but nodded and turned to limp away. “Alright, but I’m afraid I won’t sleep until I know everyone there is safe.”
And who knows when that might be, Hamilton said to himself as he followed his trusted deputy.
****
Sampson was not the only person involved in the case who could not seem to sleep. At an all-night café, Lieutenants Tragg and Anderson were sitting at a booth.
Lieutenant Anderson had his arms crossed on the table, a half-empty mug of hot chocolate in front of him. “Lieutenant, I just don’t know what to make of any of this,” he frowned. “In all of my years on the force, I’ve never encountered a situation like tonight’s.”
Lieutenant Tragg gave a wry smirk. “Who has? Although I must say it’s nice to have a false alarm once in a while, when you work in the Homicide division.”
“No arguments there.” Andy took a sip from the mug. “That was the only thing that really went right-that the victim wasn’t dead. But it doesn’t explain what happened or how it happened or why. Since it was clearly an attempted homicide, we’re still on the case. But what case?! I don’t like to say it, but it seems like it would be better suited to the Ghostbusters.”
“Who ya gonna call?” Tragg quipped, still with the smirk. He sighed, sobering. “Unfortunately, that isn’t an option.”
“And I don’t know what we’re going to put on our report if it really is supernatural,” Andy frowned. “Lieutenant, how is it your luck to be mixed up with people who have such unheard-of adventures?”
“I ask myself that question every time I run into Mason,” Tragg grunted.
“You seem to be on fairly friendly terms with him,” Andy noted. “I have to admit, that’s something I’ve been wondering about. We both know he bends the law to suit his own purposes. How can you, in good conscience, associate with him any more than you have to?”
“Well . . .” Tragg leaned back, pondering on the honest question. “You’re still new around here, Andy. True, Mason bends the law, and neither Mr. Burger nor I am very happy about that fact. But we also possess a great deal of respect for him. Like it or not, he has some amazing deductive abilities.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Now if we could only get him to put them to use without all the law-bending as part of the package.”
“But he probably won’t,” Andy frowned. “He seems to have his own ideas about justice and the end justifying the means.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I just can’t be comfortable socializing with him the way you and Mr. Burger do.”
Tragg nodded. “And that’s fine. You don’t have to.” He smiled, crookedly. “But you’re still always welcome to join us when we all have lunch or dinner.”
Andy took up the mug, toasting him with it. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime.”
“I wish you would,” Tragg said, returning the toast with a mug of his own. “Actually, sharing a meal with Mason is usually quite enjoyable. We tend to leave law and police work out of it, unless it’s an angle we can agree on.”
The bell over the door jangled as a new customer entered. Both policemen looked up, curious and confused over who would be coming in at such a witching hour. Both were surprised to see a very worried David Gideon, who hastened directly to their table.
“Excuse me, Lieutenants,” David greeted, “but do you know what’s happening at the Walker estate? Gertie told me something terrible had happened, but when I tried to call Mr. Mason, I couldn’t reach him!”
“What?” Tragg stared at the boy with a frown. “When did you try?”
“I’ve tried several times,” David answered. “I’ve tried both his phone and the Walker phone. I keep getting a message that they’re out of service!”
Tragg immediately got to his feet. “Well, that’s certainly not supposed to happen,” he said. “The storm is picking up again, but not to the point that the phones should all be dead.”
Andy nodded. “We were up at the estate not more than a couple of hours ago,” he said. “Everything seemed to be working then.”
“Then something new has happened!” David moaned. “I have to get up there.” He turned, hurrying outside into the rain.
“We’d better get up there too,” Tragg said to Andy. “Ghost or not, maybe whatever’s causing so much trouble is making its next move.”
Andy was in definite agreement. Leaving a tip for the waitress on the table, he rushed outside with Tragg.
David was already taking off in his car, heading for the road leading up the hill to the estate. His car’s lights soon vanished in the heavy rain and fog.
Tragg climbed into the police car and pulled down the seatbelt all in seemingly one motion. Andy dove into the driver’s seat next to him, turning the engine over. In a moment, they too were disappearing into the wild night.
****
Perry wasn’t sure what was happening at the house. But when the lights began to flicker on and off very rhythmically and definitely not because of the storm, he knew enough to say that another communication was taking place.
Della hurried over to him. “Perry, why is there so much activity tonight?” she wondered in concern. “Malevolent things have been happening for the past two weeks, but not so much all in one night.”
Perry frowned, deeply. “As cliché as it seems, I have to wonder if the day has anything to do with it,” he said. “We’re past midnight on the 30th of October. As in, now it’s the 31st.”
Della’s stomach turned. “Halloween,” she whispered.
Perry nodded. “Like it or not, the ghosts really do seem to pick up in their activities during the days that comprise Halloween and the subsequent Mexican celebrations All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Or at least, the accounts of such activities are more plentiful during these days.”
Della shook her head. “I thought and hoped a lot of that was people’s overactive imaginations.”
“A lot of it probably is,” Perry said. “But unfortunately, the antics in this home seem to be genuine.”
Della shivered. The chill was becoming more prominent again. “Do you honestly believe the spirit of that suicidal man followed Helen out here?” she wondered.
“I don’t know.” Perry drew a protective arm around Della’s back. “I was considering it as a possibility, but something still doesn’t seem right.” He shook his head in frustration. “I’m missing something, and I still don’t know what it is!”
At that moment there was a cry from the study and Mrs. Walker hurried into the living room. “Philip’s writing on the window again,” she proclaimed. “He says he’s alright.” Without waiting for Perry and Della to answer, she dove back into the room.
Perry and Della immediately opted to follow. “Do you think it really is Philip?” Della wondered.
“Bonnie seems sure,” Perry mused, “but any spirit could mimic Philip’s comments, if it wanted. There really isn’t any way to be sure who’s talking to us.”
Della gripped her purse. “That’s terribly frightening, when you think about it,” she said.
“I know.” As they came to the doorway, Perry paused, watching the scene and wondering if he dare lead Della in. But, he mused, it probably wasn’t any less safe in that room than in any of the other rooms of the house. The ghosts seemed to be equally everywhere. He guided Della in with him.
“Philip, what happened to you?” Mrs. Walker was demanding, while Mrs. Paisley stood by and tensely watched. “You weren’t playing a cruel prank, were you?”
As before, the letters slowly appeared in the window’s frost, just as though an unseen person was writing them right then.
Attacked.
“By whom, Philip?” Bonnie frowned. “Helen? Or this mysterious fourth party you mentioned?”
Helen. She’s lost her mind.
Perry frowned. “Then is Helen the one who attacked Mr. Sampson after all?”
Ask her, not me.
“He certainly isn’t very cooperative on the subject,” Perry mused.
“Oh, when was Philip ever really cooperative?” Bonnie sighed.
Perry shook his head. “He might not be trying to be disagreeable this time. He could be genuinely frightened.”
“Of Helen?” Bonnie frowned.
“Well,” Perry said, “let’s not forget that Helen was a murderess in her right mind. If, after death, she’s even worse than that, I think that’s something for anyone to fear.”
Mignon nodded, looking deep in contemplation. “The spirit is generally the same as in life,” she said. “However, there are circumstances that could change one’s personality.” She looked back to Perry. “Did you say someone else died in the prison the night of the execution?”
“That’s right,” Perry said. “But he committed suicide.”
Della stepped forward. “Perry had thought maybe that spirit had somehow followed Helen out here,” she said.
“That’s possible,” Mignon agreed. “Or, alternately, perhaps the dark energy from that troubled soul mingled and fused with Helen’s.”
Perry frowned. “How do you mean, Mrs. Germaine?”
“Simply that, because of the nature and states of mind of both people when they died, there may have been an overabundance of dark energy on the spirit plane in the area where they died,” Mignon explained. “Helen may have become infused with the hatred and motivations already prevalent in this other man.”
“So she would attack Mr. Sampson because that man wanted to harm him,” Della deduced.
“Yes. And if she had any feelings of hate on her own, the other person’s feelings would increase and expand on them.”
Perry could imagine how Hamilton would scoff at all of this. But right now he was too concerned that it could somehow be true to spend time doubting. “Suppose this is the case,” he said instead. “How would we solve it?”
“The spirit would have to either be cast out of the house or else calmed into abandoning the hate,” Mignon said. “I could try to handle the former, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to achieve the latter.”
“Maybe if she would just listen to someone,” Mrs. Walker said. “Helen was my secretary companion for over twenty years. If I could get through to her, I might be able to stop her reign of terror.”
Mignon was about to answer, but Bonnie interrupted her. “Don’t bother.”
Everyone started and turned. “Bonnie, what are you talking about?” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “You know we have to . . .” But then she trailed off. From Bonnie’s dark expression and flashing eyes, Mrs. Walker realized that her daughter was not in control of what her body had just said. “Oh no,” she whispered.
“Yes, Sylvia, I’m Helen,” Bonnie proclaimed with a smirk. “And your new friend is very astute about what happened to me. I did encounter a cloud of darkness and hate upon my death. Perhaps at first I was frightened, but then I welcomed it in. Now I’m more powerful than you could ever believe.”
She began to advance on Mrs. Walker while everyone gaped in shock. Michael and Dr. Younger hurried forward, trying to stop her, but she turned, flinging out a hand. Both men fell back, as though blasted by an invisible force.
“Arthur!” Mrs. Walker cried, her voice strangled in horror. “Michael!” She rushed over to the dazed men, her emotions and heart reeling.
Perry stood his ground. “Della, get back,” he ordered.
But Della shook her head. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here to deal with this,” she declared.
“Foolish,” Helen sneered through Bonnie. “Haven’t you and all of these other people realized yet that love as you think of it doesn’t exist? Love is selfish; it’s only about satisfying our own needs and wants.”
“That, Miss Garden, isn’t true love.” Perry took a step forward. “For you, perhaps, love doesn’t exist. You twisted it and used it to your own goals, as did Thomas, and when he betrayed you, you turned against him. The both of you did an excellent job of misusing love again and again. But you don’t have to continue the cycle. Your mortal life is over. You can choose to leave these people alone. They didn’t have anything to do with what happened to you. Why do you want to hurt them?”
“They testified against me,” Helen replied, stepping forward to meet Perry. “That woman spawned the man who betrayed me. And the other man is related to them. Why shouldn’t I want to hurt them? They should all suffer now, as I suffered for years!”
“You brought most of that suffering on yourself,” Perry countered. “You could have ended the cycle after Thomas betrayed you. Even if you had gone to prison for your part in the crimes you both committed, you would have gotten out in a few years and could have started your life over. You didn’t have to kill Thomas. And you didn’t have to kill Philip. Those murders were most certainly your undoing.”
“No!” Helen’s eyes burned with fire and rage. “Shut up! You can’t blame everything on me. I won’t have it! I won’t!”
A visible ring of dark energy flew out from Bonnie’s body, knocking over everything and everyone in its path. Thrown off their feet, Perry, Della, and Mignon crashed into the wall.
Della looked up in horror. “Bonnie!” she cried. “We know you’re still in there. You can’t let this happen. You can’t let Helen control you like this!”
For a moment Bonnie wavered, her eyes flickering, desperate, panicked. But then the look was gone, replaced by Helen’s madness.
“Mrs. Germaine.” Perry looked to Mignon. “You said you might be able to cast Helen out. Well, if you can manage it, now would be the time to try.”
“I don’t have the items I need,” Mignon replied. “They were over there, on the desk.” And now, with the room in such disarray, she wasn’t sure where they had ended up.
Mrs. Walker looked up. “Mrs. Germaine, if you try to get rid of Helen, will it . . .” She swallowed hard. “Could it end up harming Bonnie?”
“It shouldn’t,” Mignon tried to assure her.
Mrs. Walker bit her lip. “I wish there was a way to save Helen instead of just casting her away,” she said quietly.
Dr. Younger stared at her. “Sylvia, after everything she’s done?” he exclaimed. “She killed your son!”
“I know.” Mrs. Walker clenched a fist. “But for a time, a long time, I believe she was truly my friend. She became twisted and corrupted through the years, as did Thomas. I don’t want to return hate for hate. Look at what hatred has done to her now!”
“To cast her away wouldn’t be hate if done only in the spirit of saving everyone she’s trying to harm,” Dr. Younger said.
“That’s right,” Perry nodded. “It will be painful, Mrs. Walker, but I’m afraid it’s the only way. Perhaps sometime, later, she can find her way again, but right now she is too overcome by darkness and madness to listen. We can’t allow her to add one more name to the list of her victims.”
Mrs. Walker bowed her head. “You’re right, of course, Mr. Mason.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think or who’s right,” Helen countered. “You won’t be able to do anything to me. I will see all of you dead before you can so much as try.”
But her face wavered and crumpled in agony. “No!” Bonnie cried, struggling to break through the possession. “No, I won’t let you hurt them!”
Michael leaped up, in spite of the dizziness from being blasted. “Bonnie,” he said in anguish, “fight her. You can fight her! Use these crazy powers of yours for good!”
Bonnie’s visage twisted as Helen took control. “She’ll be the first to go,” she promised. “I can’t have her ruining my plans.”
“Helen,” Perry began in a commanding tone.
He got no further. “I said shut up!” Another burst of dark energy, more powerful than the first, burst forth from Bonnie’s form. Everyone in the room collapsed.
****
As the lightning flashed outside, four cars drove up single-file to the estate and parked. David leaped out first, followed by Paul, who had decided to go back after failing to reach Perry on the phone to give his report.
Tragg and Andy alighted as well, grim and concerned as they stared at the flickering lights of the house. “What in the name of Heaven is going on in there?” Tragg frowned.
“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Andy moaned.
They hastened after the others, but another voice called to them out of the wind and stopped them in their tracks. “Tragg! Andy!”
Spinning around, they stared at Hamilton as he emerged from Sampson’s car along with Sampson. “I thought you were taking him home,” Tragg frowned.
“I couldn’t keep him from wanting to come back,” Hamilton sighed. “He’s worried about the family and everyone else in there.”
“As are we all,” Tragg said. “But Mr. Sampson, how do you think you can do any good after what happened to you earlier tonight?! You might . . . well, drop dead upon entering the house!”
“I don’t think so,” Sampson replied. “I know I was worried about that, but judging from all the commotion in there, I think that demon is paying too much attention to everyone already in the house to stop and notice me. And even if it does turn its rage on me, perhaps that would be enough of a distraction for everyone else to stop it from harming anyone else.”
Tragg’s expression darkened. “Why, that could be suicide!”
“I know,” Sampson admitted. He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “But I’m willing to sacrifice myself, if the need arises.”
“Hopefully it won’t,” Paul interrupted as they reached the porch. He pounded on the doors. “But we might not even be able to get in!” Both doors seemed to be firmly sealed shut.
“We won’t give up this easily,” Hamilton declared. “Let’s see what happens if we all go at them.”
Everyone slammed on the doors with all their might. At first there was no reaction, but they persisted. They had to get inside!
“I think they’re weakening!” David announced after several tries.
At last they succeeded and the heavy barricade gave way, sending a frightening chill at the group that was icier than anything the storm could conceive. For a moment they stood there, stunned.
“Alright,” Paul said in relief, shivering from the frosty greeting. “Let’s get in there and see what’s going on!” He tried to ignore the feeling of dread. The chill continued inside the house. Something was very wrong.
David ran past him, hurrying to the study. “The door’s jammed here, too!” he exclaimed, rattling the knob.
“Great,” Paul muttered. “Well, let’s go at it too.”
“Wait a minute,” Hamilton interjected. “There’s a shadow under the door. I think someone might be on the floor against it.”
“Uhoh.” Paul looked, seeing that Hamilton was right. “Hey!” he called, knocking on the door. “What’s going on in there? Is everyone alright?”
To his surprise and relief, the shadow moved and the doorknob turned. “Come in, Paul,” a slightly dazed Perry said. “Everyone.”
“Mr. Mason, what’s happening?!” David exclaimed. “No one has been able to reach you by phone and . . .” He trailed off, gaping at the scene inside the room.
Three translucent figures were holding onto Bonnie-or rather, they seemed to be holding onto something inside Bonnie’s body. And as long as they were holding fast, Bonnie seemed to be immobile. No matter how she screamed in rage, she could not move.
Mrs. Walker was just sitting and staring. “Kenneth!” she cried. “Thomas!”
“And Philip,” Michael added, stunned.
Mrs. Paisley moved forward, slowly, overcome. “Phil?” she ventured. “It’s really you?”
“Of course,” Philip said. “You don’t think anyone would actually pretend to be me, do you?”
Mrs. Paisley managed a weak smirk. “Hardly. But . . . are you really alright?”
“As alright as a dead man can be, I suppose,” Philip said.
“Kenneth?” Mrs. Walker was still in shock. “You were the fourth spirit?”
Michael looked to Philip in exasperation. “You could have told us, you know.”
“I wasn’t lying; we hadn’t been introduced,” Philip defended. “Anyway, he said he wanted to tell you himself. But then Helen caused some more trouble and there wasn’t any chance.”
“You couldn’t even give us a straight answer about Helen, Philip,” Mrs. Walker said. “If you had admitted it was her . . .”
“I wasn’t sure when she attacked the deputy D.A.,” Philip said. “She was so filled with hate that she didn’t even look like herself. And when I realized it was somehow her after all, well, I didn’t know what to make of it! Especially considering what she’d done to me by that point.”
“Ah yes, it always comes back to you,” Michael said.
“I’m helping now, dear cousin-in-law,” Philip replied.
Kenneth decided he had better avert a possible argument. “Don’t worry about Bonnie,” he said to his wife and Michael. “Or Helen. We’ll take Helen with us and everything will be alright.”
“You can do that?” Michael said in amazement.
“We can,” Thomas said grandly, “but we have to all be cooperating for it to work.”
“Let me guess,” Michael sighed. “Philip wasn’t cooperating.”
Philip shrugged. “Oh, I suppose one good deed won’t hurt. And at least I won’t have to listen to Helen replaying my death like a broken record every night.”
The three of them backed up, at last managing to pull Helen’s struggling spirit out of Bonnie’s body. Released from the evil hold of the possession, Bonnie fell forward into Michael’s arms.
Mrs. Walker hurried over as well. “Kenneth . . . Thomas . . .” She gazed at her husband, dead these many long years, and her son, dead for over a year. “Now that you have her, are you . . . all leaving now?”
“I’m taking her to where she can hopefully begin to get straightened out,” Kenneth said. “Then I . . . I’m going back.” He looked lovingly at his wife. “I moved on years ago. But Thomas and Philip, well . . . I don’t think they’re ready yet. Nor do I think you’re ready to let Thomas go. You don’t mind having two ghosts in the house for a while longer, do you, Sylvia?” His eyes twinkled.
Mrs. Walker smiled. “As long as they behave themselves, not at all.”
“Why, Mother.” Thomas pretended to look affronted. “Of course we’ll behave.”
“I suppose I can, when I’m around,” Philip said. “I don’t intend to stay often, if I’m now free to go where I please. I’ve been bound to this house since my death, and it’s really quite a bore.”
Elaine smirked a bit, feeling the same way.
Bonnie stirred, certain that she could hear her father and brother’s voices. As she focused, her eyes widened and she gasped.
Kenneth smiled at her. “You’ve been very brave, Bonnie,” he said. “You never stopped fighting against Helen’s control.”
“That helped us get her too,” Thomas added, even as Helen continued to curse and kick in their grasp. “Even with all three of us, we couldn’t have broke her hold without you, Sis.”
Bonnie continued to stare at them. “I’m not . . . dreaming, am I?” she whispered.
“Not at all,” Kenneth said. He looked to Dr. Younger, who had been silent and was just staring, trying to comprehend this scene. “Take good care of Sylvia, Doctor,” he said. “I know you already know what a wonderful woman she is. I just want to let you both know that I approve.”
Mrs. Walker smiled a bittersweet smile. “Oh Ken . . .”
“And we’d better go,” Thomas said apologetically. “I don’t think we can hold Helen much longer.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Walker stammered.
Thomas looked over at Sampson. “See you, Greg. Sorry about what Helen did.”
“Oh . . . that’s . . . alright,” Sampson said, overwhelmed by this scene.
The four spirits faded.
Mrs. Walker slumped back, happy and sad tears in her eyes. There were no words to be said. Dr. Younger came to her, drawing an arm around her shoulder.
Perry relaxed. “Well,” he said, “the cold feeling is gone. I don’t think there’s any more to worry about. Do you, Mrs. Germaine?”
Mignon smiled. “I believe everything will be alright now.”
“I certainly hope so,” Della said. She gazed at the spot where the spectres had stood. “But what a cherished gift for Mrs. Walker and Bonnie and Elaine to receive, to see their departed loved ones again.”
Hamilton was silent, holding a finger to his face as he pondered in confusion. At last he stepped forward. “Perry . . .” He spoke low. “What just happened here?”
Perry looked to him in surprise. “Hamilton, didn’t you see . . . ?” But he could tell from Hamilton’s eyes that he had not.
“Did you hear?” Mignon queried.
“I saw and heard those people-and even Sampson-talking to thin air like they were having a conversation,” Hamilton said.
“I did too,” Paul frowned.
“I’m afraid I didn’t see anything, either,” Andy confessed.
“Hmm.” Perry looked to Mignon. “How would you explain that, Mrs. Germaine?”
“They are either unprepared to see or they do not need to see,” Mignon said. “Yet. However . . .” She smiled a bit. “Who knows what the future may bring.”
“Yes,” Perry smiled in agreement. “Who knows indeed.”
Epilogue
“Trick-or-treat!”
Della opened her apartment door to the latest chorus of children’s voices. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “Look at so many scary monsters. And such a beautiful fairy in the midst of them.” She smiled at a little girl in blue, who grinned a big toothless grin in reply. “Here’s some candy for all of you.” She held out a large red bowl. “Just one candy bar each,” she added.
The kids dug in, taking their prizes into their treat bags. “What do we say?” Della prompted when they each had something.
Again the kids chorused. “Thank you!”
Della straightened, smiling as she watched them move on to the next apartment.
“Having fun?” Perry asked from behind her.
Della nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “This is Halloween the way it should be,” she said, “where the only scary ghosts and goblins are children in costumes.”
Perry smiled, coming up next to her. “I agree.”
The ringing of his phone interrupted the moment. He took it out, looking at the name and number in surprise. “It’s from the Walker home,” he announced. “Hello?”
Della perked up and turned, curious.
“Hello, Mr. Mason! Happy Halloween.”
“Oh, Bonnie,” Perry greeted. “How are things tonight?”
“They’re going well, Mr. Mason,” Bonnie smiled. On her end of the conversation, she was standing by and watching as Mrs. Walker doled out candy to the trick-or-treaters. “Very well. Mother has rallied, that awful cold sensation is gone, and Dr. Younger has proposed!”
Hearing Bonnie’s words, Della smiled.
“Wonderful,” Perry said sincerely. “Give them our congratulations.”
“Coming through!” Michael called, approaching the door into the living room with two more bags of candy. “Could someone get the door?”
Bonnie moved to open it for him. But before she could excuse herself from the phone, the door swung open by itself. Michael stepped through, eyeing it, a bit taken aback. But then he shrugged and smiled. “Thanks, Tom.”
“It doesn’t always have to be Thomas,” a disembodied voice replied.
Bonnie jumped a mile. Then, shaking her head, she turned back to the phone with a smile. “It looks like Dad was right about Thomas and Philip staying here for a while, too,” she said. “But I don’t think we’re going to mind.”
“Good,” Perry smiled. “Very good.”
In the apartment, Della came to attention as another group of children approached the door. As Perry stepped back inside to finish the conversation, a chorus of “Trick-or-treat!” went through the phone.
Bonnie chuckled. “Well, I’d better let you see to your trick-or-treaters, Mr. Mason,” she said. “Thank you again for your concern and help.”
“You’re welcome,” Perry said, “but I think most of the credit goes to the dearly departed. And to you as well, judging from what your father and brother said.”
Bonnie considered that. “Yes,” she mused, “I suppose you’re right. But thank you anyway, Mr. Mason-you and Miss Street and all of your friends. You were all worried about us and tried to help us and it means a great deal.”
Perry smiled. “I’m glad everything turned out as well as it did.”
They said their goodbyes and Perry hung up, watching as Della passed out candy to the latest batch of costumed kids. They proclaimed their thanks in return.
Yes, everything had turned out well indeed.
Title: The Case of the Spiteful Spirit, Part 2
Entry Number: 11
Author: insaneladybug/Lucky_Ladybug
Fandom: Perry Mason
Rating: PG-13/T (ghostly goings-on, possession, attempted killings)
Genre: Supernatural/Horror
Spoiler Warnings: For season 5's The Meddling Medium
Word Count: 8,760
By Lucky_Ladybug
Even after the paramedics proclaimed in bewilderment that Sampson seemed to be fine, he refused to so much as approach the house again. He was thoroughly shaken, fearful that taking even one step towards it would cause either the unsettling pseudo death or a genuine death. He wanted to see everyone in the house come out of the house and stay out.
“It’s just not safe,” he insisted from where he was sitting in his car. “You could all go to a motel until the problem is solved.”
But Mrs. Walker shook her head. “This is my home and I intend to stay here, Gregory,” she told him. “Whatever’s haunting the house hasn’t done anything to us so far. Maybe it just doesn’t like you in specific.”
“Or maybe what it did to me was only a warning to all of you,” Sampson frowned. “I don’t want to see any of you get hurt.”
Mrs. Walker patted his hand. “We’ll be just fine. I’m sure Thomas and maybe even Kenneth will protect us. Maybe they protected you.”
“Oh, maybe,” Sampson conceded, “but Mrs. Walker . . .”
“Mrs. Germaine should be by soon, and then maybe we can get all of this cleared up once and for all,” Mrs. Walker declared.
Sampson sighed, slumping back in the seat.
Hamilton sighed too, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Greg, you really should go to bed,” he said. “I’d be happy to drive you home.”
Sampson looked up at the man he worked for and idolized. “Thank you, Mr. Burger, but I feel I should stay here,” he said. “I know there’s really nothing I can do, but I can’t stand to think of leaving them here with a treacherous problem like this.”
Perry came over to the car and looked in. “How are you feeling, Mr. Sampson?” he greeted.
“I’m fine now, thank you,” Sampson said with a tinge of impatience. “I’m only worried about the people who live here and insist on staying here, even with so much trouble befalling them and others.”
Perry rested his arm on top of the car. “Well, personally I think that this attack on you is the key to the entire mystery,” he declared. “It fully seemed to be malevolently directed at you and specifically you. I don’t buy that Helen Garden would assault you, at least not for the reasons you cited.”
“And what other reasons would she have?” Sampson grunted.
“That’s what I want to find out,” Perry said. “Were you involved in any way with her trial and conviction?”
“That was Mr. Burger’s case,” Sampson frowned. “Although . . .” He paused. “Mr. Burger ended up being unavailable on the day of sentencing. I went in his place.”
Hamilton nodded. “That’s right, I remember. But Perry, I conducted the trial against her. If you’re trying to say her ghost tried to kill Sampson because of the sentencing . . .” He laughed under his breath in spite of himself. “. . . Then she should have gone after me, too. I was right in the house and nothing happened to me!”
“Yes, but that was after Bonnie collapsed,” Perry mused. “Perhaps the malevolent ghost isn’t there all the time, but only sometimes. When you arrived, Hamilton, it might have already left.”
Hamilton shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re having this conversation,” he declared. “Perry, you’re supposed to be a logical, sensible lawyer. Of course, you bend the law to your own purposes whenever you feel like it, but aside from that . . .”
Perry just smiled. “Are ghosts really so illogical as all that? Actually, Hamilton, sometimes you and other skeptics are so intent on coming up with other explanations no matter what that your so-called ‘logical’ versions are more ridiculous than the thought of spirits.”
“Well, I think everything that’s happened here tonight has definitely disturbed Lieutenant Tragg’s protégé Andy,” Hamilton said. “He’s wondering if he even still wants to be in such an area where people are supposedly dropping dead and everyone else believes the dead did it.”
“That, unfortunately, can’t be helped,” Perry answered. “If Lieutenant Anderson wants to leave, he’s welcome to do so.”
“Mr. Burger, you don’t mean he’s thinking of asking for a transfer,” Della piped up as she came over.
“Right now, I don’t think he knows what he wants to do,” Hamilton answered. “Lieutenant Tragg’s baffled too. Of course, this isn’t even their jurisdiction. I just asked them to come when I thought . . .” He trailed off, glancing at Sampson.
“When you thought I was dead,” Sampson mumbled, leaning back in the seat and holding a hand over his eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr. Burger.”
“It isn’t your fault, Sampson,” Hamilton returned. “You came here hoping to help.”
“Yes, and look what I’ve caused now.” Sampson took his hand away from his eyes. “Does anyone know if Bonnie is feeling any better?”
“Well, she’s certainly overjoyed that you’re not dead, Mr. Sampson,” Della smiled kindly at him.
“But she’s still distraught from thinking that something took over her body to get me into that state,” Sampson concluded.
Della sighed. “I’m afraid so,” she said.
Perry frowned. “I’d hate to put her through anything more at this point, but perhaps if she could go into a trance and perform automatic writing, at least one of the spirits would tell us something more about what’s going on.”
“She can’t control when it happens, Perry,” Della protested.
“I know she can’t,” Perry agreed. “But I’m wondering if it would be possible for her to learn.”
Sampson frowned. “If you play around with things like that, eventually you’re going to get burned. You don’t know what kinds of spirits you’d be opening the door to.”
“I know,” Perry said. “That’s what’s always dangerous about matters of the occult. Even if you have a relatively harmless goal in mind, it would just take one malevolent spirit to turn it all upsidedown.”
Hamilton stood by, looking more amused than anything else. “Perry, you’ve been watching too many late-night horror movies on television,” he scolded lightly. “And you too, Greg. Honestly, I think I’d better drive you home now.”
Sampson sighed. “Alright. I suppose I can’t really do any good here tonight anyhow. I just wish they’d leave!”
“They won’t,” Perry said. “Mrs. Walker certainly won’t, and Bonnie won’t leave her.”
“And Michael won’t leave Bonnie,” Della added.
“Yes, I know.” Sampson pulled down the seatbelt and reached to close the door. “Please let me know how Mrs. Germaine’s visit turns out.”
Perry smiled. “We’ll be sure to. You get a good night’s rest.”
“I’ll see that he gets to bed,” Hamilton promised. “But Greg, if I’m going to drive you, I need to be in the driver’s seat.”
“Hmm? Oh, of course.” Sampson sighed and undid the seatbelt, woozily climbing across the stick shift to sit in the passenger seat.
“You’re sure you’re alright,” Della said in concern, leaning closer to the window to look in at him.
“Yes, thank you,” Sampson said, again pulling down the seatbelt.
Hamilton got into the driver’s seat and started to back out of the driveway. Perry and Della moved to give them room.
“Where is Bonnie, Della?” Perry queried.
Della looked back towards the house. “Dr. Younger was still trying to convince her to take the sedative,” she said. “But she wants to stay awake for when Mrs. Germaine comes.”
“Speaking of that, here she is.” Perry watched as an old blue sedan came up the winding driveway to park with the other cars. Mignon alighted, taking in the scene with visible curiosity in her dark eyes.
“Mr. Mason,” she greeted when she took note of him. “Miss Street.” She walked over, concern on her features now. “Has something else happened?”
“Something has, I’m afraid,” Perry said. “Something in that house attempted to murder one of Hamilton’s deputies, Gregory Sampson.”
“Oh no.” Mignon gripped her purse. “Is he alright?”
“Relatively,” Perry said. “He claims that he was never dead, as he indeed appeared to be, and that instead the spirit made him look dead for as long as he was in the house. He only revived the moment he left the bottom step.”
“Do you know of anything that could cause such an awful thing, Mrs. Germaine?” Della asked in concern.
“The spirit would have to be malevolent, Miss Street,” Mignon said. “A benign or benevolent spirit would never do such a thing unless they were protecting someone, and they would surely know that there would be nothing to fear from Mr. Sampson.”
“Yes, surely they would,” Perry nodded. They started to walk to the house. “What are your plans, Mrs. Germaine?”
“First I will see what I can sense of the spirits present in the house,” Mignon said. “Then I will inquire as to what they want. We’ll see whether or not they answer.”
“They may answer through Bonnie Craig,” Perry remarked as they reached the porch. Opening the front door, he let Mignon and Della enter before stepping inside himself and pulling the door shut.
Hearing the door, Mrs. Walker hurried over. “Mrs. Germaine?” she greeted hopefully.
“Yes.” Mignon looked to the worried woman. “I just heard about what happened tonight. I am so sorry.”
“Thank you,” Mrs. Walker said with a weak smile, “but it could have been so much worse. I’m just thankful that Helen or whoever that was didn’t kill poor Gregory.”
Mignon nodded. “That is most certainly a blessing.” She glanced around the spacious parlor. “This is a beautiful house. But I sense much sadness here.”
“There has been, especially ever since these strange things started to happen,” Mrs. Walker said. “Come, I’ll take you through the house and explain in detail what’s been going on.”
“Thank you,” Mignon said, “but I will need silence in order to sense the spirits. Perhaps they will tell me themselves what they have been up to.”
She walked ahead, calm and composed as she sought the other occupants of the house. Mrs. Walker trailed behind her, with Perry and Della behind her.
When she entered the living room, Bonnie, Michael, Mrs. Paisley, and Dr. Younger all looked up. Mignon stopped, listening, contemplating what she felt.
“There is a presence here,” she said at last. “It doesn’t feel malevolent. It wants to communicate.”
Bonnie’s eyes widened. “Is it Thomas?”
“I don’t know,” Mignon said. “Mrs. Craig, Mr. Mason tells me that you have a mild level of extra sensory perception and that spirits have used you to channel their writing.”
“They have.” Bonnie averted her gaze. “And I’m afraid one of them tried to use me to kill Greg tonight.”
Mignon regarded her kindly. “If the spirit would agree to give us a message through you, it would be helpful. But I fully understand if you don’t feel you can allow that.”
“If the spirit wants to, I wouldn’t have any choice,” Bonnie said. “I just blank out whenever it happens.”
Della happened to glance towards the window. “There’s mist here because of the rain,” she remarked. Stunned, she went on, “And it looks like something is using it to write.”
Everyone hurried to the window, wanting to witness the sight for themselves. And indeed, as they observed, an unseen finger was writing in the mist.
Philip.
“Phil?!” Mrs. Paisley cried in disbelief.
“You’re Philip?” Mignon calmly queried, while Bonnie gasped. “Are you the one who attacked Mr. Sampson tonight?”
The answer came without hesitation.
No!
“It’s possible the spirit was responding to your first question and not your second,” Perry mused.
“Or both questions at once,” Della suggested, “if the answer is No to both.”
“If you know who attacked him, please tell us,” Mignon requested.
I don’t know.
“Now, I find that hard to believe,” Michael spoke up. “Aren’t all the mysteries of life supposed to be unlocked once you’re dead?”
“Not necessarily all,” Perry replied. “But we are faced with a conundrum. We don’t know that we’re actually speaking with Philip, nor do we know that whoever it is tells the truth about the assault.”
“If you are Philip, why are you still in this house?” Mignon persisted. “Your murderer has been caught. You should have moved on.”
Can’t.
“Why?” Bonnie exclaimed, finding her voice at last. “Why can’t you move on, Philip? Haven’t you done enough to this family?! Can’t you leave us in peace now that you’re dead?”
How I wish I could.
Bonnie scowled. “It’s Philip, alright,” she declared.
Mrs. Paisley scowled too. “Well, I don’t blame him for not wanting to be stuck here, of all places. Why would he?”
Bonnie looked to her. “You know, Elaine, you found out that Philip and I weren’t having an affair. Doesn’t that help your opinion of us any? We didn’t like Philip, but he didn’t give us much reason to. And we weren’t hypocritically disliking him while we knew we were committing sins just as bad, as you thought we were.”
Elaine crossed her arms and looked away, not wanting to concede to that truth.
Ladies, please.
Mrs. Walker stepped forward. “Philip, have you been helping us around the house, opening doors and turning on lights and such?”
Thomas.
“Well, of course that wouldn’t be Philip,” Bonnie sighed.
“Aside from yourself and Thomas, don’t you know who else is in this house?” Mignon queried.
Helen, sometimes.
Bonnie shivered.
“But you can’t say that Helen is the person who assaulted Mr. Sampson?” Mignon persisted.
I can’t say.
“Does that mean you know that there is someone other than you three in this house?”
Yes.
“You know that much, but you don’t know who it is?” Bonnie retorted in disbelief. “Come, Philip. You’ve joined the beings in the beyond. Surely you know how many of them have taken up residence in our once-happy home!” Her voice caught on the last sentence and Michael drew an arm around her shoulders.
We were never introduced.
“Can you describe them?” Mignon asked.
A sudden wave of frost swept over the room and all its occupants. When they dared look at the window again, all of the writing was gone.
In its place were five streaks down the glass, as though the fingers of a hand had clawed at it while the owner was slipping in pain to the floor.
****
Bonnie’s hands shook as she took the mug of hot chocolate from Della. “Thank you,” she whispered.
They were in the kitchen, at the island in the middle of the floor. Della sat next to her, crossing her arms on the counter. Bonnie was still much too pale and Della was concerned. “Are you feeling any better?” she asked, gently.
“Oh, I don’t know.” Bonnie sipped the hot beverage and then set the mug down. “It’s been such a horrible night. First that scare with Greg and now this. . . .” She shook her head. “I could never bring myself to like Philip one bit, but knowing that he was apparently here, and quite possibly attacked by whatever got Greg. . . .” She sighed. “On the other hand, maybe this is some sickening, macabre joke of Philip’s and he’s just fine. Or as fine as an earthbound spirit can be, that is.” She gave a dark smirk. “He’d play a trick like that, you know.”
“I never met him,” Della said.
“You can be glad of that,” Bonnie said. “Oh, I know we’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but . . .” She took up the mug again. “He was such a case. He probably still is. That’s probably why he can’t move on.”
“Mrs. Germaine has been trying to communicate with him or Thomas or any of the other spirits,” Della said slowly.
“And she hasn’t had any luck, has she?” Bonnie said as she looked up.
“I’m afraid she hasn’t,” Della admitted. “Everything’s been quiet since the writing on the window disappeared.”
“Not even any activity in the ghost room?” Bonnie said wryly. “That’s what Mike calls it.”
“I think Mrs. Germaine is up there right now,” Della said.
“And has been for the past half-hour,” Perry said as he wandered into the kitchen. “The spirits aren’t lending themselves to cooperation tonight. I’m afraid we’ve probably seen the last paranormal activity for a while, anyway.”
“Oh, Perry, maybe Greg is right,” Bonnie moaned. “Maybe we should get out of here. So far this spirit has harmed both another spirit and a living man. What’s to keep it from murdering all of us in our sleep tonight?!”
“How does your mother feel about leaving?” Perry returned.
“She still doesn’t want to go,” Bonnie sighed. “Dr. Younger is trying to convince her that she should.”
“Surely Dr. Younger hasn’t come around to the idea that there are actually ghosts here,” Della said in surprise.
Bonnie half-smirked. “Not Dr. Younger. He’s still trying to think some living person is managing to do all of this. But he’s worried what they’ll try next.”
“And for good reason,” Perry said. “It is a worry.”
Bonnie sighed. “And Elaine doesn’t want to go now, of course. She’s worried about Philip. Not that she can do anything for him.”
The ring of Perry’s cellphone abruptly interrupted the tense moment. Frowning, he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. “Yes, Paul?” he greeted, recognizing the detective’s number.
“Hi, Perry,” Paul answered. “I’ve been looking up that information you wanted. Turns out there was more than one criminal death in California the night Helen Garden was killed. And get this-Deputy D.A. Sampson prosecuted this other guy’s trial.”
“Excellent work, Paul,” Perry praised. “You might not like the next task so well.”
Paul sighed. “And what, might I ask, is that going to be?”
“Oh, finding out all you can about said man and any possible interactions he had with Mr. Sampson,” Perry said.
“And of course, I can only find that out from Mr. Sampson,” Paul deduced.
“And maybe Mr. Burger,” Perry added.
Paul exhaled in exasperation. “Perry, they’re probably both asleep. Like I should be right now!”
“You can go right after you try to question those two,” Perry said. “There’s a chance they might still be awake.”
“Uh huh, a chance,” Paul echoed. “And if they’re not?”
“Then I suppose it will have to wait until morning,” Perry said.
“At least something will,” Paul muttered. Louder he said, “Okay, Perry. I’ll see what I can find out, if anything.”
“Thanks, Paul,” Perry smiled. “I’ll be sure there’s a bonus in this for you.”
“There had better be,” Paul quipped.
****
The lights were still on when Paul drove up to Sampson’s home and parked. He would be inclined to think that perhaps Sampson was simply too spooked to sleep with them off, considering he lived alone, but he supposed he was going to have to approach the abode and find out. Sighing, he got out of his car and headed for the porch.
Hamilton opened the door just as Paul reached it. “We heard your car pull up,” he explained. “But Paul, what are you doing here?”
“I came because Perry wanted me to ask Mr. Sampson some questions,” Paul said as he stepped into the entryway.
“About the attack?” Hamilton frowned. “Paul, Greg isn’t feeling well after tonight. The last thing he needs is to be disturbed by . . .”
“I’m not going to ask about the attack,” Paul interrupted. “Perry wants me to ask about some guy named Wilton Marius.”
Hamilton raised an eyebrow. “That murderer? The case is over and done with. Marius committed suicide two weeks ago, after being sentenced to the death penalty.”
Paul sighed. “Well, I don’t really know what Perry’s got on his mind, but he wanted me to find out how Marius felt about Mr. Sampson.”
“Very hateful and bitter,” came Sampson’s voice as he limped out from what was probably a bedroom. He rested a hand on the doorframe. “He threatened me many times. When the guard found him dead in his cell, he also discovered that Marius had written on a paper in red ink that this wasn’t over and I would never be safe from him.”
Paul gave a low whistle. “So he expected to come after you from the grave?”
“That was certainly what he seemed to want to do,” Sampson acknowledged.
Hamilton scoffed. “Oh, look, Paul. Maybe he wanted to. That doesn’t mean there was any way possible that he could. Are you trying to say that maybe he attacked Greg tonight?”
“That might be what Perry’s thinking,” Paul said. “Like I said, I don’t know. But he was found dead on the night Helen Garden was executed, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, he was,” Hamilton said, folding his arms. “Although I don’t know what that has to do with anything.”
Paul sighed. “I don’t either, unless Perry’s trying to say that maybe the guy attached himself to Helen’s spirit after her execution and they both went out to the Walker estate or something.”
Hamilton looked like he was trying not to laugh. Sampson, meanwhile, looked disturbed.
“Wilton Marius was a madman,” Sampson proclaimed. “He was given the death penalty because he committed two very brutal murders without a sliver of remorse. He was a man filled with hatred towards the entire world. If the spirit does continue after death, I can’t imagine that his attitude would change any.” He gripped the doorframe. “And if Mr. Mason honestly believes he’s taken up residence at the Walker estate, it’s a wonder every one of those people aren’t dead by now!”
Hamilton sobered. “Paul, you’re upsetting Greg,” he said. “He’s going to have a terrible time going to sleep now, and he badly needs rest.”
“I’m sorry about that,” Paul said. “I didn’t really want to come here in the middle of the night. You know how Perry is.”
“Yes, I know.” Hamilton started to move towards the door. “And you can go back and tell him what we said and he’ll probably have Mignon thinking it really is true, or at least that it could be.”
Paul nodded. “Thanks for your help, both of you,” he said, walking to the door and opening it before Hamilton could do it. “Mr. Sampson, I hope you feel better.”
“Thank you,” Sampson acknowledged.
He stumbled into the living room once Paul had left. “Mr. Burger, I don’t like what Mr. Drake is suggesting,” he said, troubled. “Whatever came after me was definitely filled with hatred. If we acknowledge the existence of spirits, and assume that I was assaulted by one, it stands to reason that it had something specifically against me.”
“Sampson, you’re letting your imagination run wild,” Hamilton objected.
“Well, they can’t find any trace of poisons or other ill substances in my body,” Sampson countered, “and wouldn’t it be too much of a coincidence for something that made me appear dead to wear off only when I departed the premises?”
“Sampson, you’d be amazed at what coincidences can cause,” Hamilton said, shaking his head. “But come on, you need to get to bed if you want to have any hope of making it to court tomorrow.” He frankly thought Sampson should stay home, but he knew Sampson was still hoping to get to work. They would see in the morning if he were well enough. That is, if he ever got to sleep so his body could mend from the shock.
Sampson sighed, but nodded and turned to limp away. “Alright, but I’m afraid I won’t sleep until I know everyone there is safe.”
And who knows when that might be, Hamilton said to himself as he followed his trusted deputy.
****
Sampson was not the only person involved in the case who could not seem to sleep. At an all-night café, Lieutenants Tragg and Anderson were sitting at a booth.
Lieutenant Anderson had his arms crossed on the table, a half-empty mug of hot chocolate in front of him. “Lieutenant, I just don’t know what to make of any of this,” he frowned. “In all of my years on the force, I’ve never encountered a situation like tonight’s.”
Lieutenant Tragg gave a wry smirk. “Who has? Although I must say it’s nice to have a false alarm once in a while, when you work in the Homicide division.”
“No arguments there.” Andy took a sip from the mug. “That was the only thing that really went right-that the victim wasn’t dead. But it doesn’t explain what happened or how it happened or why. Since it was clearly an attempted homicide, we’re still on the case. But what case?! I don’t like to say it, but it seems like it would be better suited to the Ghostbusters.”
“Who ya gonna call?” Tragg quipped, still with the smirk. He sighed, sobering. “Unfortunately, that isn’t an option.”
“And I don’t know what we’re going to put on our report if it really is supernatural,” Andy frowned. “Lieutenant, how is it your luck to be mixed up with people who have such unheard-of adventures?”
“I ask myself that question every time I run into Mason,” Tragg grunted.
“You seem to be on fairly friendly terms with him,” Andy noted. “I have to admit, that’s something I’ve been wondering about. We both know he bends the law to suit his own purposes. How can you, in good conscience, associate with him any more than you have to?”
“Well . . .” Tragg leaned back, pondering on the honest question. “You’re still new around here, Andy. True, Mason bends the law, and neither Mr. Burger nor I am very happy about that fact. But we also possess a great deal of respect for him. Like it or not, he has some amazing deductive abilities.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Now if we could only get him to put them to use without all the law-bending as part of the package.”
“But he probably won’t,” Andy frowned. “He seems to have his own ideas about justice and the end justifying the means.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I just can’t be comfortable socializing with him the way you and Mr. Burger do.”
Tragg nodded. “And that’s fine. You don’t have to.” He smiled, crookedly. “But you’re still always welcome to join us when we all have lunch or dinner.”
Andy took up the mug, toasting him with it. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Maybe I’ll take you up on that sometime.”
“I wish you would,” Tragg said, returning the toast with a mug of his own. “Actually, sharing a meal with Mason is usually quite enjoyable. We tend to leave law and police work out of it, unless it’s an angle we can agree on.”
The bell over the door jangled as a new customer entered. Both policemen looked up, curious and confused over who would be coming in at such a witching hour. Both were surprised to see a very worried David Gideon, who hastened directly to their table.
“Excuse me, Lieutenants,” David greeted, “but do you know what’s happening at the Walker estate? Gertie told me something terrible had happened, but when I tried to call Mr. Mason, I couldn’t reach him!”
“What?” Tragg stared at the boy with a frown. “When did you try?”
“I’ve tried several times,” David answered. “I’ve tried both his phone and the Walker phone. I keep getting a message that they’re out of service!”
Tragg immediately got to his feet. “Well, that’s certainly not supposed to happen,” he said. “The storm is picking up again, but not to the point that the phones should all be dead.”
Andy nodded. “We were up at the estate not more than a couple of hours ago,” he said. “Everything seemed to be working then.”
“Then something new has happened!” David moaned. “I have to get up there.” He turned, hurrying outside into the rain.
“We’d better get up there too,” Tragg said to Andy. “Ghost or not, maybe whatever’s causing so much trouble is making its next move.”
Andy was in definite agreement. Leaving a tip for the waitress on the table, he rushed outside with Tragg.
David was already taking off in his car, heading for the road leading up the hill to the estate. His car’s lights soon vanished in the heavy rain and fog.
Tragg climbed into the police car and pulled down the seatbelt all in seemingly one motion. Andy dove into the driver’s seat next to him, turning the engine over. In a moment, they too were disappearing into the wild night.
****
Perry wasn’t sure what was happening at the house. But when the lights began to flicker on and off very rhythmically and definitely not because of the storm, he knew enough to say that another communication was taking place.
Della hurried over to him. “Perry, why is there so much activity tonight?” she wondered in concern. “Malevolent things have been happening for the past two weeks, but not so much all in one night.”
Perry frowned, deeply. “As cliché as it seems, I have to wonder if the day has anything to do with it,” he said. “We’re past midnight on the 30th of October. As in, now it’s the 31st.”
Della’s stomach turned. “Halloween,” she whispered.
Perry nodded. “Like it or not, the ghosts really do seem to pick up in their activities during the days that comprise Halloween and the subsequent Mexican celebrations All Saints Day and All Souls Day. Or at least, the accounts of such activities are more plentiful during these days.”
Della shook her head. “I thought and hoped a lot of that was people’s overactive imaginations.”
“A lot of it probably is,” Perry said. “But unfortunately, the antics in this home seem to be genuine.”
Della shivered. The chill was becoming more prominent again. “Do you honestly believe the spirit of that suicidal man followed Helen out here?” she wondered.
“I don’t know.” Perry drew a protective arm around Della’s back. “I was considering it as a possibility, but something still doesn’t seem right.” He shook his head in frustration. “I’m missing something, and I still don’t know what it is!”
At that moment there was a cry from the study and Mrs. Walker hurried into the living room. “Philip’s writing on the window again,” she proclaimed. “He says he’s alright.” Without waiting for Perry and Della to answer, she dove back into the room.
Perry and Della immediately opted to follow. “Do you think it really is Philip?” Della wondered.
“Bonnie seems sure,” Perry mused, “but any spirit could mimic Philip’s comments, if it wanted. There really isn’t any way to be sure who’s talking to us.”
Della gripped her purse. “That’s terribly frightening, when you think about it,” she said.
“I know.” As they came to the doorway, Perry paused, watching the scene and wondering if he dare lead Della in. But, he mused, it probably wasn’t any less safe in that room than in any of the other rooms of the house. The ghosts seemed to be equally everywhere. He guided Della in with him.
“Philip, what happened to you?” Mrs. Walker was demanding, while Mrs. Paisley stood by and tensely watched. “You weren’t playing a cruel prank, were you?”
As before, the letters slowly appeared in the window’s frost, just as though an unseen person was writing them right then.
Attacked.
“By whom, Philip?” Bonnie frowned. “Helen? Or this mysterious fourth party you mentioned?”
Helen. She’s lost her mind.
Perry frowned. “Then is Helen the one who attacked Mr. Sampson after all?”
Ask her, not me.
“He certainly isn’t very cooperative on the subject,” Perry mused.
“Oh, when was Philip ever really cooperative?” Bonnie sighed.
Perry shook his head. “He might not be trying to be disagreeable this time. He could be genuinely frightened.”
“Of Helen?” Bonnie frowned.
“Well,” Perry said, “let’s not forget that Helen was a murderess in her right mind. If, after death, she’s even worse than that, I think that’s something for anyone to fear.”
Mignon nodded, looking deep in contemplation. “The spirit is generally the same as in life,” she said. “However, there are circumstances that could change one’s personality.” She looked back to Perry. “Did you say someone else died in the prison the night of the execution?”
“That’s right,” Perry said. “But he committed suicide.”
Della stepped forward. “Perry had thought maybe that spirit had somehow followed Helen out here,” she said.
“That’s possible,” Mignon agreed. “Or, alternately, perhaps the dark energy from that troubled soul mingled and fused with Helen’s.”
Perry frowned. “How do you mean, Mrs. Germaine?”
“Simply that, because of the nature and states of mind of both people when they died, there may have been an overabundance of dark energy on the spirit plane in the area where they died,” Mignon explained. “Helen may have become infused with the hatred and motivations already prevalent in this other man.”
“So she would attack Mr. Sampson because that man wanted to harm him,” Della deduced.
“Yes. And if she had any feelings of hate on her own, the other person’s feelings would increase and expand on them.”
Perry could imagine how Hamilton would scoff at all of this. But right now he was too concerned that it could somehow be true to spend time doubting. “Suppose this is the case,” he said instead. “How would we solve it?”
“The spirit would have to either be cast out of the house or else calmed into abandoning the hate,” Mignon said. “I could try to handle the former, but I’m afraid I wouldn’t know how to achieve the latter.”
“Maybe if she would just listen to someone,” Mrs. Walker said. “Helen was my secretary companion for over twenty years. If I could get through to her, I might be able to stop her reign of terror.”
Mignon was about to answer, but Bonnie interrupted her. “Don’t bother.”
Everyone started and turned. “Bonnie, what are you talking about?” Mrs. Walker exclaimed. “You know we have to . . .” But then she trailed off. From Bonnie’s dark expression and flashing eyes, Mrs. Walker realized that her daughter was not in control of what her body had just said. “Oh no,” she whispered.
“Yes, Sylvia, I’m Helen,” Bonnie proclaimed with a smirk. “And your new friend is very astute about what happened to me. I did encounter a cloud of darkness and hate upon my death. Perhaps at first I was frightened, but then I welcomed it in. Now I’m more powerful than you could ever believe.”
She began to advance on Mrs. Walker while everyone gaped in shock. Michael and Dr. Younger hurried forward, trying to stop her, but she turned, flinging out a hand. Both men fell back, as though blasted by an invisible force.
“Arthur!” Mrs. Walker cried, her voice strangled in horror. “Michael!” She rushed over to the dazed men, her emotions and heart reeling.
Perry stood his ground. “Della, get back,” he ordered.
But Della shook her head. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here to deal with this,” she declared.
“Foolish,” Helen sneered through Bonnie. “Haven’t you and all of these other people realized yet that love as you think of it doesn’t exist? Love is selfish; it’s only about satisfying our own needs and wants.”
“That, Miss Garden, isn’t true love.” Perry took a step forward. “For you, perhaps, love doesn’t exist. You twisted it and used it to your own goals, as did Thomas, and when he betrayed you, you turned against him. The both of you did an excellent job of misusing love again and again. But you don’t have to continue the cycle. Your mortal life is over. You can choose to leave these people alone. They didn’t have anything to do with what happened to you. Why do you want to hurt them?”
“They testified against me,” Helen replied, stepping forward to meet Perry. “That woman spawned the man who betrayed me. And the other man is related to them. Why shouldn’t I want to hurt them? They should all suffer now, as I suffered for years!”
“You brought most of that suffering on yourself,” Perry countered. “You could have ended the cycle after Thomas betrayed you. Even if you had gone to prison for your part in the crimes you both committed, you would have gotten out in a few years and could have started your life over. You didn’t have to kill Thomas. And you didn’t have to kill Philip. Those murders were most certainly your undoing.”
“No!” Helen’s eyes burned with fire and rage. “Shut up! You can’t blame everything on me. I won’t have it! I won’t!”
A visible ring of dark energy flew out from Bonnie’s body, knocking over everything and everyone in its path. Thrown off their feet, Perry, Della, and Mignon crashed into the wall.
Della looked up in horror. “Bonnie!” she cried. “We know you’re still in there. You can’t let this happen. You can’t let Helen control you like this!”
For a moment Bonnie wavered, her eyes flickering, desperate, panicked. But then the look was gone, replaced by Helen’s madness.
“Mrs. Germaine.” Perry looked to Mignon. “You said you might be able to cast Helen out. Well, if you can manage it, now would be the time to try.”
“I don’t have the items I need,” Mignon replied. “They were over there, on the desk.” And now, with the room in such disarray, she wasn’t sure where they had ended up.
Mrs. Walker looked up. “Mrs. Germaine, if you try to get rid of Helen, will it . . .” She swallowed hard. “Could it end up harming Bonnie?”
“It shouldn’t,” Mignon tried to assure her.
Mrs. Walker bit her lip. “I wish there was a way to save Helen instead of just casting her away,” she said quietly.
Dr. Younger stared at her. “Sylvia, after everything she’s done?” he exclaimed. “She killed your son!”
“I know.” Mrs. Walker clenched a fist. “But for a time, a long time, I believe she was truly my friend. She became twisted and corrupted through the years, as did Thomas. I don’t want to return hate for hate. Look at what hatred has done to her now!”
“To cast her away wouldn’t be hate if done only in the spirit of saving everyone she’s trying to harm,” Dr. Younger said.
“That’s right,” Perry nodded. “It will be painful, Mrs. Walker, but I’m afraid it’s the only way. Perhaps sometime, later, she can find her way again, but right now she is too overcome by darkness and madness to listen. We can’t allow her to add one more name to the list of her victims.”
Mrs. Walker bowed her head. “You’re right, of course, Mr. Mason.”
“It doesn’t matter what you think or who’s right,” Helen countered. “You won’t be able to do anything to me. I will see all of you dead before you can so much as try.”
But her face wavered and crumpled in agony. “No!” Bonnie cried, struggling to break through the possession. “No, I won’t let you hurt them!”
Michael leaped up, in spite of the dizziness from being blasted. “Bonnie,” he said in anguish, “fight her. You can fight her! Use these crazy powers of yours for good!”
Bonnie’s visage twisted as Helen took control. “She’ll be the first to go,” she promised. “I can’t have her ruining my plans.”
“Helen,” Perry began in a commanding tone.
He got no further. “I said shut up!” Another burst of dark energy, more powerful than the first, burst forth from Bonnie’s form. Everyone in the room collapsed.
****
As the lightning flashed outside, four cars drove up single-file to the estate and parked. David leaped out first, followed by Paul, who had decided to go back after failing to reach Perry on the phone to give his report.
Tragg and Andy alighted as well, grim and concerned as they stared at the flickering lights of the house. “What in the name of Heaven is going on in there?” Tragg frowned.
“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Andy moaned.
They hastened after the others, but another voice called to them out of the wind and stopped them in their tracks. “Tragg! Andy!”
Spinning around, they stared at Hamilton as he emerged from Sampson’s car along with Sampson. “I thought you were taking him home,” Tragg frowned.
“I couldn’t keep him from wanting to come back,” Hamilton sighed. “He’s worried about the family and everyone else in there.”
“As are we all,” Tragg said. “But Mr. Sampson, how do you think you can do any good after what happened to you earlier tonight?! You might . . . well, drop dead upon entering the house!”
“I don’t think so,” Sampson replied. “I know I was worried about that, but judging from all the commotion in there, I think that demon is paying too much attention to everyone already in the house to stop and notice me. And even if it does turn its rage on me, perhaps that would be enough of a distraction for everyone else to stop it from harming anyone else.”
Tragg’s expression darkened. “Why, that could be suicide!”
“I know,” Sampson admitted. He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “But I’m willing to sacrifice myself, if the need arises.”
“Hopefully it won’t,” Paul interrupted as they reached the porch. He pounded on the doors. “But we might not even be able to get in!” Both doors seemed to be firmly sealed shut.
“We won’t give up this easily,” Hamilton declared. “Let’s see what happens if we all go at them.”
Everyone slammed on the doors with all their might. At first there was no reaction, but they persisted. They had to get inside!
“I think they’re weakening!” David announced after several tries.
At last they succeeded and the heavy barricade gave way, sending a frightening chill at the group that was icier than anything the storm could conceive. For a moment they stood there, stunned.
“Alright,” Paul said in relief, shivering from the frosty greeting. “Let’s get in there and see what’s going on!” He tried to ignore the feeling of dread. The chill continued inside the house. Something was very wrong.
David ran past him, hurrying to the study. “The door’s jammed here, too!” he exclaimed, rattling the knob.
“Great,” Paul muttered. “Well, let’s go at it too.”
“Wait a minute,” Hamilton interjected. “There’s a shadow under the door. I think someone might be on the floor against it.”
“Uhoh.” Paul looked, seeing that Hamilton was right. “Hey!” he called, knocking on the door. “What’s going on in there? Is everyone alright?”
To his surprise and relief, the shadow moved and the doorknob turned. “Come in, Paul,” a slightly dazed Perry said. “Everyone.”
“Mr. Mason, what’s happening?!” David exclaimed. “No one has been able to reach you by phone and . . .” He trailed off, gaping at the scene inside the room.
Three translucent figures were holding onto Bonnie-or rather, they seemed to be holding onto something inside Bonnie’s body. And as long as they were holding fast, Bonnie seemed to be immobile. No matter how she screamed in rage, she could not move.
Mrs. Walker was just sitting and staring. “Kenneth!” she cried. “Thomas!”
“And Philip,” Michael added, stunned.
Mrs. Paisley moved forward, slowly, overcome. “Phil?” she ventured. “It’s really you?”
“Of course,” Philip said. “You don’t think anyone would actually pretend to be me, do you?”
Mrs. Paisley managed a weak smirk. “Hardly. But . . . are you really alright?”
“As alright as a dead man can be, I suppose,” Philip said.
“Kenneth?” Mrs. Walker was still in shock. “You were the fourth spirit?”
Michael looked to Philip in exasperation. “You could have told us, you know.”
“I wasn’t lying; we hadn’t been introduced,” Philip defended. “Anyway, he said he wanted to tell you himself. But then Helen caused some more trouble and there wasn’t any chance.”
“You couldn’t even give us a straight answer about Helen, Philip,” Mrs. Walker said. “If you had admitted it was her . . .”
“I wasn’t sure when she attacked the deputy D.A.,” Philip said. “She was so filled with hate that she didn’t even look like herself. And when I realized it was somehow her after all, well, I didn’t know what to make of it! Especially considering what she’d done to me by that point.”
“Ah yes, it always comes back to you,” Michael said.
“I’m helping now, dear cousin-in-law,” Philip replied.
Kenneth decided he had better avert a possible argument. “Don’t worry about Bonnie,” he said to his wife and Michael. “Or Helen. We’ll take Helen with us and everything will be alright.”
“You can do that?” Michael said in amazement.
“We can,” Thomas said grandly, “but we have to all be cooperating for it to work.”
“Let me guess,” Michael sighed. “Philip wasn’t cooperating.”
Philip shrugged. “Oh, I suppose one good deed won’t hurt. And at least I won’t have to listen to Helen replaying my death like a broken record every night.”
The three of them backed up, at last managing to pull Helen’s struggling spirit out of Bonnie’s body. Released from the evil hold of the possession, Bonnie fell forward into Michael’s arms.
Mrs. Walker hurried over as well. “Kenneth . . . Thomas . . .” She gazed at her husband, dead these many long years, and her son, dead for over a year. “Now that you have her, are you . . . all leaving now?”
“I’m taking her to where she can hopefully begin to get straightened out,” Kenneth said. “Then I . . . I’m going back.” He looked lovingly at his wife. “I moved on years ago. But Thomas and Philip, well . . . I don’t think they’re ready yet. Nor do I think you’re ready to let Thomas go. You don’t mind having two ghosts in the house for a while longer, do you, Sylvia?” His eyes twinkled.
Mrs. Walker smiled. “As long as they behave themselves, not at all.”
“Why, Mother.” Thomas pretended to look affronted. “Of course we’ll behave.”
“I suppose I can, when I’m around,” Philip said. “I don’t intend to stay often, if I’m now free to go where I please. I’ve been bound to this house since my death, and it’s really quite a bore.”
Elaine smirked a bit, feeling the same way.
Bonnie stirred, certain that she could hear her father and brother’s voices. As she focused, her eyes widened and she gasped.
Kenneth smiled at her. “You’ve been very brave, Bonnie,” he said. “You never stopped fighting against Helen’s control.”
“That helped us get her too,” Thomas added, even as Helen continued to curse and kick in their grasp. “Even with all three of us, we couldn’t have broke her hold without you, Sis.”
Bonnie continued to stare at them. “I’m not . . . dreaming, am I?” she whispered.
“Not at all,” Kenneth said. He looked to Dr. Younger, who had been silent and was just staring, trying to comprehend this scene. “Take good care of Sylvia, Doctor,” he said. “I know you already know what a wonderful woman she is. I just want to let you both know that I approve.”
Mrs. Walker smiled a bittersweet smile. “Oh Ken . . .”
“And we’d better go,” Thomas said apologetically. “I don’t think we can hold Helen much longer.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Walker stammered.
Thomas looked over at Sampson. “See you, Greg. Sorry about what Helen did.”
“Oh . . . that’s . . . alright,” Sampson said, overwhelmed by this scene.
The four spirits faded.
Mrs. Walker slumped back, happy and sad tears in her eyes. There were no words to be said. Dr. Younger came to her, drawing an arm around her shoulder.
Perry relaxed. “Well,” he said, “the cold feeling is gone. I don’t think there’s any more to worry about. Do you, Mrs. Germaine?”
Mignon smiled. “I believe everything will be alright now.”
“I certainly hope so,” Della said. She gazed at the spot where the spectres had stood. “But what a cherished gift for Mrs. Walker and Bonnie and Elaine to receive, to see their departed loved ones again.”
Hamilton was silent, holding a finger to his face as he pondered in confusion. At last he stepped forward. “Perry . . .” He spoke low. “What just happened here?”
Perry looked to him in surprise. “Hamilton, didn’t you see . . . ?” But he could tell from Hamilton’s eyes that he had not.
“Did you hear?” Mignon queried.
“I saw and heard those people-and even Sampson-talking to thin air like they were having a conversation,” Hamilton said.
“I did too,” Paul frowned.
“I’m afraid I didn’t see anything, either,” Andy confessed.
“Hmm.” Perry looked to Mignon. “How would you explain that, Mrs. Germaine?”
“They are either unprepared to see or they do not need to see,” Mignon said. “Yet. However . . .” She smiled a bit. “Who knows what the future may bring.”
“Yes,” Perry smiled in agreement. “Who knows indeed.”
Epilogue
“Trick-or-treat!”
Della opened her apartment door to the latest chorus of children’s voices. “Oh my!” she exclaimed. “Look at so many scary monsters. And such a beautiful fairy in the midst of them.” She smiled at a little girl in blue, who grinned a big toothless grin in reply. “Here’s some candy for all of you.” She held out a large red bowl. “Just one candy bar each,” she added.
The kids dug in, taking their prizes into their treat bags. “What do we say?” Della prompted when they each had something.
Again the kids chorused. “Thank you!”
Della straightened, smiling as she watched them move on to the next apartment.
“Having fun?” Perry asked from behind her.
Della nodded, leaning against the doorframe. “This is Halloween the way it should be,” she said, “where the only scary ghosts and goblins are children in costumes.”
Perry smiled, coming up next to her. “I agree.”
The ringing of his phone interrupted the moment. He took it out, looking at the name and number in surprise. “It’s from the Walker home,” he announced. “Hello?”
Della perked up and turned, curious.
“Hello, Mr. Mason! Happy Halloween.”
“Oh, Bonnie,” Perry greeted. “How are things tonight?”
“They’re going well, Mr. Mason,” Bonnie smiled. On her end of the conversation, she was standing by and watching as Mrs. Walker doled out candy to the trick-or-treaters. “Very well. Mother has rallied, that awful cold sensation is gone, and Dr. Younger has proposed!”
Hearing Bonnie’s words, Della smiled.
“Wonderful,” Perry said sincerely. “Give them our congratulations.”
“Coming through!” Michael called, approaching the door into the living room with two more bags of candy. “Could someone get the door?”
Bonnie moved to open it for him. But before she could excuse herself from the phone, the door swung open by itself. Michael stepped through, eyeing it, a bit taken aback. But then he shrugged and smiled. “Thanks, Tom.”
“It doesn’t always have to be Thomas,” a disembodied voice replied.
Bonnie jumped a mile. Then, shaking her head, she turned back to the phone with a smile. “It looks like Dad was right about Thomas and Philip staying here for a while, too,” she said. “But I don’t think we’re going to mind.”
“Good,” Perry smiled. “Very good.”
In the apartment, Della came to attention as another group of children approached the door. As Perry stepped back inside to finish the conversation, a chorus of “Trick-or-treat!” went through the phone.
Bonnie chuckled. “Well, I’d better let you see to your trick-or-treaters, Mr. Mason,” she said. “Thank you again for your concern and help.”
“You’re welcome,” Perry said, “but I think most of the credit goes to the dearly departed. And to you as well, judging from what your father and brother said.”
Bonnie considered that. “Yes,” she mused, “I suppose you’re right. But thank you anyway, Mr. Mason-you and Miss Street and all of your friends. You were all worried about us and tried to help us and it means a great deal.”
Perry smiled. “I’m glad everything turned out as well as it did.”
They said their goodbyes and Perry hung up, watching as Della passed out candy to the latest batch of costumed kids. They proclaimed their thanks in return.
Yes, everything had turned out well indeed.