Amateur Hour

Gilligan wasn’t an impressive looking dog. He was four years old, a chocolate lab mixed with heaven only knew what, but he was friendly as a dog could be, and best of all, sounded like a mastiff, when he barked. Lisa liked him, at first sight. They had a lively play session that lasted an hour, and she fed him several treats, which he took from her hand with great delicacy, before she decided he was The One.

“Was he surrendered?” Lisa asked the attendant who came to take him back to the kennel area. “He seems awfully friendly.”

“It seems that he was dumped, actually. Poor guy– he’s very sweet. No food aggression, gets along fine with other dogs,” she said, scratching behind Gilligan’s floppy ear. “We called him Gilligan, because he seems like a perfect little buddy, for someone. Are you interested?”

“I am, but I don’t have any of the stuff a dog needs. I’d have to do some shopping.”

“No problem. Fill out the papers and pay the adoption fee, and we can hold him for you.”

“It might be tomorrow, before I could pick him up.”

“That would be fine,” the attendant said, beaming. “You hear that, buddy? You’re going home, tomorrow.”

Lisa opted for a local pet supply store, for her purchases. Might as well get to start getting to know the town, she thought. The lady who ran the place was just the kind of salesperson Lisa preferred. She offered her assistance, and when Lisa politely declined, went on about other business. Lisa spent a fortune on bowls, two dog beds, a leash, a harness, a doggie seat belt, several chew toys, and two big bags of dog food.

“My goodness!” the store lady laughed, when Lisa rolled her cart to the cash register. “Did you get two dogs, at once?”

Lisa answered with a grin, of her own. “Just one, but I figured he could have a bed in the living room, and another in the bedroom.”

“Good luck with that. I have three little ones, and they all want to pile into bed, with me, especially when the weather cools down.”

“If this boy does that, he’ll deflate my mattress. I haven’t bought a bed, yet.”

“Just moved into town?”

“Outside town. I bought the old Episcopal church off 97.”

The woman fell silent for a moment, scanning items.

“Something wrong–” she hesitated for a moment, eyeing the woman’s name tag, “–Iris?”

“No, nothing at all.” But her smile was nervous.

“Someone told me, yesterday, that the place has a history, but he didn’t offer any details.”

“Well, it’s an old place. It has a lot of history,” Iris tried to deflect, with a joke. “You know, the church itself is very old. It’s been there for more than sixty years, but it’s not the original building. That on burned down, in 1863. There’s all kinds of information about it, in the library.”

“So, it was rebuilt more than once?”

“A grand total of three times, I think,” Iris said, handing Lisa her receipt. “Some people say the ground is cursed, but I don’t believe in that stuff. How can consecrated ground be cursed?”

Lisa smiled, and nodded in agreement, but she was a little troubled by the notion. She gave herself a mental shake, as she loaded the dog’s stuff into the car. Lots of places in Georgia had burned to the ground, during the Civil War. Sherman had made it very fashionable, after all. The real wonder and mystery was what had happened to the last iteration of the church. Still standing, and as desolate as the moon. Maybe a trip to the library was in order, sooner rather than later.

At home, she unloaded all of Gilligan’s new accessories and goodies, and one bag of the food. The other, she intended to donate to the shelter. Then, she set about unboxing and putting away the last of her belongings. What she really wanted to do was explore the church, rats or no rats. After all, Tuck had said he had seen droppings, not the vermin themselves, and she was more concerned about the health hazards they posed than the actual animals. Fortunately, she had bought dust masks, before ever leaving Florida, knowing she’d need them.

Lisa forced herself to finish up in the house, before she allowed herself to grab mask, flashlight and keys, for her first foray into the sanctuary.

It was warmer outside today, than yesterday, and the sun felt good, as she made the short walk from the rectory to the church proper. The door opened with a screech, straight out of a horror movie. That should wake the dead, Lisa thought, as she stepped into the dim narthex, and clicked the button on the end of her flashlight. The sanctuary was a little brighter than the narthex, due to the light that filtered through the stained glass windows, placed high along the sides of the room, and the large one, behind the podium. It was going to be a bear, to clean all of those. They were coated with more than a couple of decades of dust and cobwebs. Even so, they were beautiful. Once cleaned, they would be alive with color. A faint, scuttling sound in the wall near her confirmed the presence of rodents, and Lisa made a disgusted face. It didn’t stop her from stepping farther into the room, however. It was larger than she had thought it would be. Every pew was still in place, as was every hymnal and Book of Common Prayer. Everything seemed to be laced together with cobwebs. Lisa thought that a few of the pews could be salvaged for random bench seats to be used in the store. The area of the podium would make a good area for children’s books.

She hoped the communion rail was in good shape. It would make a nice division for the section, and the aesthetic of authenticity appealed to her. She advanced toward it, with caution, not trusting the wooden floor. Aside from a few creaks and squeaks, it felt firm underfoot, however. The rail was shockingly firm, when she tried to jiggle it. It was coated in varnish, not paint; and from the reddish color, she guessed it might be cypress.

“Nice,” she said, aloud. He voice was slightly muffled by the dust mask. She turned next to look at the pews. They appeared to be of the same wood as the communion rail; the were the same color, at least, and sturdy. Lisa sat in the first one, and it showed no signs of collapsing under her. Another scuttling, somewhere nearby, moved her to rise, and dust off the seat of her jeans. On examination of the next row of pews, she was disappointed to see that the rats had destroyed the padding on the kneelers. This meant that she’d have to find someone to dismantle them, without damaging the backs of the pews they were attached to. They wouldn’t be necessary, of course, but it would have been preferable to have been able to leave them as they were.

And, there were plenty of droppings, around them, sure enough. Oh, well; win some, lose some. Lisa’s light began to flicker, and she gave it a good smack, with the palm of her hand. That cured it, at least temporarily, and she moved on with her explorations.

The podium wasn’t as safe under her feet as the rest of the floor had been. It felt spongy, under the soles of her sneakers, and there was a telltale stain on the low pile carpet that caused Lisa to train the beam of her flashlight on the ceiling. There it was—the matching water stain. She stepped toward the edges of the platform, which seemed firm. Part of the podium would have to be replaced, then. She spied the inset cabinet, where the bread and wine were kept; there was a name for it, but she couldn’t recall it, at the moment. She opened it gingerly, lest some furry beastie leap out at her, and was astonished to find the chalice and paten still there. Both appeared to be silver plated, and were eerily clean, amidst all destruction and dust of the rest of the church.

Lisa was aghast and fascinated. Had the congregation taken nothing at all with them? What was she to do with them? With unknown workmen coming in, they might be safer with her, in the rectory, yet… Was it bad luck to remove them?

“They belong to you, now, you silly twit,” she told herself. Besides, she could put them back, when the repairs and remodeling were done. It still felt like taking trophies from a crime scene. She decided to wait to see how she felt about it, when she was done with her self-guided tour, and closed the door of the… “Tabernacle– that’s what it’s called.” And, she noted, it should have been locked.

The vestment room, located stage right of the podium was a complete shambles. The floor was littered with shredded bags that had once contained communion wafers and rat droppings, and the aroma of rat urine was heavy in the still air. A clothing rack to her right held the soiled and moldering remnants of surplices, acolyte vestments, and even a couple of hand embroidered chausibles. Most had been chewed and rent by rats and maybe mice, too. Lisa thought it best not to touch anything in this room, until she had gloves on her hands. Too bad she didn’t own a HAZMAT suit, she thought. This place was surely hantavirus heaven. That was when a cheeky young rat bolted from its hiding place, and ran across her foot.

Lisa cried out, in revulsion, and jumped backward. The motion brought her hard against the wall by the door, and a seven inch metallic cross fell off the wall, onto the floor, with a dull clang. She looked at it, for a moment, unwilling to pick it up, for fear her fingers would brush the filthy floor. She did it, though, finding the nail and rehanging it in its original place.

She wanted a shower. Oh, how she wanted a shower, but there was still the basement to look at. She wasn’t too crazy about the thought, but she was already here. Maybe she could get away with shining the light into it, without actually having to go down. But, no—she should at least sound the stairs and see whether or not the banister was loose. Lisa didn’t know much about liability, when it came to the safety of others performing work on a property, but she would hate to have anyone injured, if it could be avoided. She backed out of the vestment chamber, and closed the door.

The door to the basement was on the other side of the podium, the side with the baptismal font. It opened easily, and Lisa tested the banisters on each side. The one on the left felt wobbly, the the one on the right, which was secured to the wall felt stable enough. Clinging to it, with her right hand Lisa stomped on the first step, and when it didn’t seem to affect it, she eased her weight down on it. There was no give, so she repeated this procedure, until, ten steps later, she found herself at the bottom, on a stone floor.

There was rat spoor here, too. Additionally, the walls, once white, were streaked and speckled with roach feces. Lisa thought she might never want to eat, again. Then her stomach growled. “You really are a twit,” she thought.

The scene was one of organized chaos. Boxes were stacked along the wall immediately before her. Some were cardboard, some were plastic storage totes; all were dirty, and anything that wasn’t on top of the stack was collapsing under the weight of those that were. Indeed, the boxes at the bottom had split, and some of the contents were starting to bleed out, onto the floor. Most of it appeared to be single sheets of paper, some of them folded into thirds, lengthwise. She picked on up, already knowing what it was. Yep, they handed them out at the door, every week—a program, of sorts, with the hymns that would be sung, the Psalm that would be read, and other pertinent information for following along with the service. The one in her hand was from a long forgotten Sunday in 1975. It had been well nibbled by roaches.

The boxes were undoubtedly full of them, and silverfish, too. The corner to her right was piled with ornaments and decorations of various types, matching the church holidays and seasons, in open boxes. The entire left wall was taken up by a disreputable looking bookshelf, and Lisa stepped over, for a closer look. There were a few Bibles, some spare Books of Common Prayer, and most interesting of all, church registers of births, burials, and baptisms. Some local historian would love to get his or her hands on those, she thought.

The resounding slam of the door behind her wrought a strangled scream from her. Whipping around, she stared at it in disbelief. When her pulse slowed a little, she mounted the stairs again, and tried the door. The knob turned. It turned a full 360 degrees, in fact. It also turned the same amount in the opposite direction.

“Shit!” she exclaimed. She slapped at her back pocket, and found that, yes, her phone was still there. For the second time in a week, she called the Sheriff, once her breathing was under control.

“Decatur County Sheriff’s Office—how may I direct your call?”

“Hi. I’m not sure whom I need to speak to,” she began.

“What’s the nature of your problem, ma’am?”

“Well, it’s like a cat in a tree, only I’m the cat, and the tree is a basement. The door closed on me, and I can’t open it, from my side. The knob is broken.”

“I see. Is this the basement in your home, ma’am?”

“No, it’s the old St. Brigid’s church, off highway 97.” Lisa could hear the dispatcher typing.

“Are you Lisa Miles?” she asked.

“Yes. Am I becoming notorious, already?”

The dispatcher chuckled. “No, ma’am. I just wanted to be sure I’m not sending deputies to meet an intruder, without their knowing it. Sounds like you just need someone to open the door, for you—is that correct?”

“Yes. The door to the church should be unlocked. The door to the basement is at the front of the sanctuary, to the right.”

“Okay, we’ll have someone over there in a jiffy. You’re not injured, in any way, are you?”

“No, I’m fine. Just trapped.”

“Hang tight, then.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Lisa didn’t know what to do, next. She didn’t want to waste her phone battery, scrolling social media to while away the time. She also had no idea how much longer the battery in her flashlight was going to last. There was a single bulb dangling overhead, and another attached to the ceiling of the main basement, below her. She wanted to slap herself. Why hadn’t she tried any of the lights, in the first place?

“Because you’re a super sleuth, and you have the flashlight, to prove it,” she mocked herself aloud. She rose from the top step, and flicked the switch on the wall. The area around her glowed, in forty watt glory. Good. At least she wouldn’t have to wait in the dark. If she got very bored, there was reading material, in the bookshelf, below.

Her stomach rumbled again, and she was aware of being thirsty, as well. She hoped it wouldn’t take long for the deputy to arrive, even though she was going to look as foolish as she felt, when someone did get here.

It smelled odd, down here, she noticed. There was a hint of something, under the mildew, dust, rat urine, and other smells. Smoke, she realized with a small jolt. Not fresh smoke. Old smoke, fetid and still holding an acrid edge, after…What? More than a century? It wasn’t a happy thought, as thoughts went.

She cast her gaze back toward the bottom of the stairs, and blinked, hard. A mist seemed to have been thrown between her and the hulking stack of boxes. The outlines seemed blurred, where before they had been fairly sharp, even in the dim light. The tang of smoke began to be stronger, now, beginning to sting her nose. She watched it rise, up toward her. Her eyes widened, and she fought back panic. How on earth could the place be on fire? Yet, it was undeniably smoke, she realized, as she began to cough. She was doubled over, hacking, her eyes streaming, when the door opened, at her back.

“Lisa? Are you okay?”

The voice was slightly familiar, and through bleared eyes, Lisa recognized Tuck Rawlings. He seemed oblivious to the smoke, and she glanced back at it. It was gone. No, she thought, it had never been there, in the first place.

“Lisa!” Tuck’s voice was sharper, now.

“I’m fine,” she managed, gulping in the fresher air, which was none too fresh.

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here,” he suggested, extending a hand to pull her to her feet.

“How are you here?” she asked, as they stepped out into the sanctuary. “I mean, you’re not in uniform.”

“I heard the dispatcher on my scanner, and volunteered to swing by. It’s on my way into town, and I figured I could save someone else the time. Good thing you had your phone on you.”

“The first thing I learned about living alone is that you always want to be able to reach out for help, if you need it.”

“How did the door close, on you? Do you know?” he asked, as they stepped into the narthex, and he opened the door.

Lisa rushed out, tore the mask away from her face, and pulled in a chestful of air, before she answered.

“I have no idea,” she said. “A draft from somewhere, maybe? Or maybe the door doesn’t hang quite true.”

“And, the coughing fit?”

Lisa looked him straight in his warm, brown eyes, and lied. “The dust got to me, I reckon. These masks will only filter out so much of it. I’m dying of thirst, in fact.”

“I was on my way to pick up a bite to eat. Want to tag along, and get a super sized soda, or some iced tea?”

“I’m pretty grubby, from banging around the church.”

“We can hit a drive thru. Come on—you look a little shaken, under the dust.”

“I’d like to wash some of that off my hands, at least,” she said. “Do you have time?”

“Plenty,” he smiled.

“I see you’re planning to take my advice,” Tuck remarked, when Lisa returned from the bathroom, refreshed by her quick wash-up.

For a moment, Lisa was confused, then he nodded toward the new empty dog bowls, near the refrigerator.

“Oh—yeah. I’m supposed to pick him up, tomorrow. He’s ridiculous, in a cute sort of way, and he sounds like a Rottweiler, when he barks.”

Tuck opened the front door, and they stepped out into the sunshine.

“Not a Rottweiler, though?” he asked.

“That would be too much dog, for me,” Lisa laughed. “No, he’s just a Lab mix. He’d be more likely to kill a burglar with kindness than with teeth.”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him,” Tuck grinned, opening the door of the cruiser, for her. When she was fairly in, he closed the car door, and walked around to the driver’s side. “All dogs are territorial,” he continued, as he climbed in.

“Well, as long as he understands that the new bed is my territory, we shouldn’t have any problems.”

“Good for you. Lay down the law, just like I did. If you’re lucky, your dog won’t ignore you, like mine does, me.”

“Let me guess—you’re a German Shepherd kind of guy.”

“Border Collie. Her name is Nickie. She’s friendly, too, but a little crazy. Too smart, for her own good. What are you hungry for?”

“I’m not picky, at this point. Just go wherever you were going to go.”

“Okay.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes. Lisa didn’t know about Tuck, but she was comfortable with it. She’d had more of a social life this week, than she had had, in the past month.

“No, not here,” she objected, when he had parked at a drive in, where the food was delivered to the cars.

“What?” he responded, looking a little shocked.

Lisa laughed. “Just kidding, Tuck. This is fine. If they’re anything like they are, where I’m from, the milkshakes are great.”

“You’re a mess, lady,” he mock scowled at her. “Do you want a shake?”

“Not today. Too heavy. Just a chicken sandwich, fries, and a large iced tea.”

“Sweet tea?”

“Is there any other kind?”

“No, ma’am,” he smiled, then proceeded to order for them.

“Your advice about the dog was good,” she resumed the topic, after their food arrived. “I had thought to get one, anyway, but I guess I’m doing it sooner, rather than later.”

“I doubt you’re in much danger from intruders, but dogs are good company, too. If you’d had him today, you wouldn’t have been alone in the basement.”

“Wasn’t that a crazy thing? I’m going to take the knob off that door, so it won’t latch, at all. That’ll do, until I can replace it.”

“Are you handy, with things like that?”

“Well, I can follow written instructions,” she shrugged. “Plus, I own screwdrivers. I can fix a lot of things, as long as I lay out the pieces in the order that I took them apart. Most things aren’t rocket science.”

“What did you do, in your previous life?”

“Rocket science. Well, kind of—I worked for a defense contractor. Not as any kind of scientist, though. Just an assembler.”

“And now you mean to sell books, beverages and more.”

“I’ve always fantasized about owning the kind of business where the customers are relaxed and mellow. Book people are like that, for the most part.” Lisa took a satisfying swig of her iced tea. “What about you? Have you always been a cop?”

“For nearly…” he checked his watch, “…thirty years, now. In some ways, it’s like everyone else’s job. Mostly small stuff, with a lot of paperwork. Sometimes it’s horrific, but thankfully, not very often. All in all, I like it.”

They ate quietly, for a few minutes.

“So, how do you feel about putting your store, in the old church?” He asked.

“I’m liking the idea. There’s a roof leak that’s going to have to be fixed, And yes, the rats have made a hell of a mess, which I may have to have help to clean up, but I love the old pews and the podium area will be perfect for a children’s books section, I think.”

“Good to hear you haven’t been put off the place,” Tuck said, brushing imaginary crumbs off his shirt.

“I still don’t know much about it. The lady at the pet store said it burned to the ground, in 1883.”

“It did, yeah. With three Northern soldiers inside. They found them in the basement. Died of smoke inhalation.”

Lisa choked on her tea, and began to cough. Tuck patted her on the back, and she recovered. “Northern soldiers?”

“Yeah. They were trying to fire the building, as a distraction, I think. Somehow, it got out of hand, and they took refuge from the fire and smoke, in the basement. Smoke and fire travel upward, after all. But there was still enough smoke to kill them, evidently.”

Lisa shifted uncomfortably, in her seat.

“When I opened the door, a little bit ago, I would have sworn I smelled smoke,” Tuck continued.

“I think it’s steeped into the foundation,” Lisa answered. “I noticed it, too. Look, Tuck—I don’t believe in haunts. And, if I did believe in them, I’m as sensitive as a stone. If I wanted to see a ghost, I never would.”

“Mm-hmm. Well, just be careful, when you’re poking around.”

“I’m always on the lookout for weak floors and falling ceilings,” Lisa smiled, with a confidence she did not feel. “Why did you decide to tell me about this, now?”

“Because, when I found you, you were doubled over, coughing to beat the band. It seemed… relevant, somehow. I don’t want to scare you. I’d like to see you succeed, and the old place made into someplace where people gather, again. I was baptized, in that church, when I was twelve.”

“Then you know what happened—why it was abandoned.” It was nearly an accusation, on her part, and she meant it to be.

“Yes,” Tuck admitted. “But, I’m not going to dump that on you. I can’t think of a single purpose that would be served, in doing that. You have enough to think about, just getting the place fixed up, and launching your business.”

“Well… I’m half tempted to have a word or two with the Realtor, about selling me a haunted property!”

“Did you ask him, if it was haunted?” Tuck asked, raising a salt and pepper eyebrow.

“What? No! Who asks questions like that? Anyway, don’t they have to tell you, in advance?”

“Not in Georgia. In all likelihood, your Realtor didn’t know. I’ll bet it was a multiple listing, from a Georgia Realtor who wasn’t under obligation to disclose.”

“Well, that–” Lisa began, then suddenly her sense of humor kicked in, and she began to laugh.

Tucker gazed at her, while she laughed. “What’s so funny?” he asked, with a puzzled smile.

“Georgia!” she sputtered. “The whole state is haunted. What did I expect?”

“There you go,” he shrugged. “Just keep that in mind, when things go bump, in the night. Around these parts, it’s not impractical to believe in ghosts. It’s only impractical to let them get let them keep you from doing what needs to be done.”