Amateur Hour

Lisa ran into Kelly, just getting out of her truck, when she returned to the main church grounds.

“Good morning,” Kelly said, taking in Lisa’s appearance, making her suddenly aware of her hair, which hung in strands, from her ponytail, and the dead leaves all over her clothes. She brushed at them, discovering that her travel mug had fallen out of her pocket. “Did Gillie knock you down?” she asked.

“I tripped on something,” Lisa replied. She wasn’t quite ready to discuss what had happened, or what she had seen.

“You went off road, it looks like,” Kelly joked.

“A little. Your sister mentioned a grotto, out in the woods. I wanted to see if I could find it.”

“Did you? If not, I can show it to you.”

“I found it. It’s a peaceful spot.”

“Yeah, we used to camp there, when I was a kid—no adults, mind you, just kids.”

“Did you camp with candles, by any chance?” Lisa smiled.

“No, just flashlights and our campfires. Why?”

“I found some candle drippings in the grotto, that’s all. They looked old.”

“Probably teenagers, having found a good make-out spot,” Kelly shrugged. Who knows?” She opened her tailgate, and drew out a large, empty live trap, already baited with little bricks of poison.

“Looks like you got quite a few, yesterday.”

“A baker’s dozen. That’s fewer than the day before, so I think the tide is turning. The snap traps in the basement only caught two. Just one, in the main church.”

“Good deal. I don’t suppose you know of some hazardous waste cleaners who can come in, when you’re done?”

“Of course, I do. I’ll round up some cards, for you.”

“No rush. It’ll be a while before it’s safe for them to go in and stir things up, anyway… I guess I should get my hound a drink, and let you get on with your day.”

Liam and Janice showed up at 11:27, that morning, bearing coffee and donuts. When Tuck showed up, a minute later, the other three exchanged glances and laughed.

“What?” Tuck demanded, perplexed.

Lisa pointed at the refreshments on the coffee table, and Tuck grinned, himself.

“Help yourself, man,” Liam invited, opening the donut box.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replied, plucking a chocolate frosted one from the box.

“This coffee is for you, Tucker,” Janice said, holding out a cup. “We didn’t know how you take it, but there’s plenty of cream and sugar.”

“Nothing, for me, thanks. Where do you want these, Lisa?” he asked, holding up the two white trash bags, in his other hand.

“Just set them by you, on the floor. I’ll tend to them, later. Thanks, for the use of your freezer.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“What are those?” Liam asked, hungrily attacking a glazed donut.

“Books pertaining to the church,” Lisa said.

“Were they buggy?” Janice asked, brushing powdered sugar off her sweater. “My daddy used to put bags of rice into his freezer, to kill weevils,” she explained, at Lisa’s surprised look.

“Yes, they were. I’d never heard of doing it, but the exterminator recommended it.

“Good on her, for not charging you for something you could do, yourself,” Janice said. “Of course, Daddy used to keep emptied mayonnaise jars in the attic and basement as do-it-yourself roach traps, too, which I always thought was downright unsanitary. They did work, though. Roaches can’t climb out, for the slippery mayonnaise on the sides of the jar.”

“Janice’s father is what our father would call a ‘sketch’,” Liam explained.

“A colored pencil sketch, at that,” Janice agreed, unoffended.

“I’m looking for records of a particular deacon,” Lisa told her brother. “I thought I might find her name, at least, somewhere in there,” she nodded toward the bags.

“Good thinking,” he nodded. “Anything you want me to pursue?”

“You might look up Judge Lovejoy,” Lisa replied.

“Where did that name come from?” Tuck asked. He looked a bit startled.

“Found it under great big tree,” Lisa said. She then pulled in a deep breath, and described her adventures in the woods. “I may have hallucinated the hanged men, but I didn’t imagine the plaque. I stumbled on it, and went down like a sack of potatoes. It was very real, and of this world,” she finished.

“Well, it’s a name. That’s a firmer starting point than anything else we have, other than the church itself,” Liam said, pulling a small notebook out of his top shirt pocket. “Lend me your pen, Janice. I know you’ve got one. Your purse is loaded for Let’s Make a Deal.”

“Don’t force me to use obscene gestures, in front of civilized people,” Janice said, rummaging through her bag, without looking. In no time, she produced a pen, and handed it to him.

“How do women do that?” he asked Tuck.

“By feel,” Janice and Lisa chorused, then exchanged small, knowing smiles.

“Was Lovejoy all one word?” Liam asked his sister.

“All one word, yes. No date, on the plaque, I’m afraid.”

“That would have been nice, but we have to work with what we’ve got.”

“Judge Lovejoy was my great great grandfather, on my mother’s side,” Tuck said. He was staring at the floor, with a brooding look. “He was one of the founders of the church. I didn’t know it was important,” he said, his eyes seeking Lisa’s. “I had no idea he was somehow bound up in this.”

“Well, of course not,” Lisa replied. “Why would you know something like that? If he really did have a hand in all of it, I’m sure your family didn’t want it known, to anyone. Besides, the name just cropped up, this morning.”

“And, maybe he had nothing at all to do with it,” Janice put in. “We can’t know why the tree was named for him.”

“Are there other Lovejoy descendants?” Liam asked.

“In this area? Just my daughter, and my younger brother. There’s no one who remembers anything, second- or even third-hand.”

“Maybe other families, then. I’ll see what I can find out about other church founders, too,” Liam said.

“Doesn’t it seem weird”, Janice mused, “that more seems to be known about a civil war incident, than about the more modern murder?”

“Fifty-odd years ago, Bainbridge was still a relatively small town. Ugly small town doings tend to get swept under the rug, sometimes,” Tuck said. “I’m sure it made the papers, but I’m equally sure that the story was dropped, before any motive was established. The murderer was dead, and the surviving spouse wasn’t talking to the press. As I recall, he moved away, right after the funeral.”

“But the church remained open. You said you were baptized here,” Lisa said.

“It was open, yeah. But, somehow, it was always between ministers. The congregation would just have time to get used to one, then he was gone.”

“Gee, I wonder if there was something about the rectory they didn’t like,” Lisa said.

“There were murmurs, yeah. Of course, no one took those rumors seriously, and the ministers, themselves, never said anything. The church closed, for good, when I was thirteen. It really foundered, after the murder, and finally, it just died. There are two larger Episcopal churches, in town. They’re more conveniently placed, too. Over time, they absorbed the congregation of St. Brigid’s.”

Tuck departed, soon after, for work.

“Well, Jan,” you have a choice to make,” Liam said, finishing off his coffee. “Research with me, or research with Lisa.”

“I think I’ll stick with Lisa, today,” Janice practically chirped. “We can get to know each other, a bit,” she smiled at Lisa, who tried to keep her expression neutral. “Just bring the pot in, before you leave won’t you, Sweetie?” she asked Liam.

“Pot?” Lisa practically yelped. She had nothing against a little weed, every now and then, but this didn’t seem like the time.

Janice burst into laughter. “Relax, Lisa. It’s a coffee pot. I saw your gas stove, yesterday, and thought what a pity it was that you were using a coffee maker, instead of a proper stove top percolator. We stopped in at that big superstore, last night and bought it for you, as a housewarming gift.”

“Well, that was very nice of you. I don’t know how to work one, though.”

“It’s simple. I’ll show you,” Janice grinned. “Trust me, it’s the best coffee you’ll ever drink.”

It was some of the best coffee Lisa had ever drunk. As a bonus, the percolator filled the house with the delicious scent of perking coffee.

“Where did you learn to do this?” Lisa asked, watching the coffee making process, with interest.

“I like to camp,” Janice shrugged. “Cooking over a fire is kind of my thing. A gas stove is even better, of course, because you can control your flame.”

“Does Liam have a gas stove?”

“Sadly, no. I do, though.” As proof, she touched her match to the gas ring, lit it handily, and adjusted it, to her satisfaction. “Now, we just wait, a bit. It does take longer, but it’s worth it. So, those are ledgers, of some kind?” She nodded toward the bags.

“I used the word, but I guess they’re not ledgers, in the strictest sense. I’m hoping they’re more like a registry of names and events like baptisms, marriages, funerals—things like that.” Lisa opened the bags, and began to put the books in chronological order.

For her part, Janice went into her bag again, and came out with a thin, college ruled notebook and a yet another pen. “I really am one of those people who never knows what she might need,” she smiled, at Lisa’s surprised look. “I carry about half of this stuff, for Liam. Antacids, decongestants, mints, even band-aids.”

“Sounds like you should make him get his own purse.”

“I got him a sporran one year, as a gag gift, for Christmas. He wasn’t impressed. Maybe I should get him a kilt, to match. He has the hair, to pull it off.”

“I think we do have a couple of Scottish ancestors, at the base of the family tree, at that,” Lisa couldn’t help smiling. “Do you want the earlier books, or the later ones?”

“I’ll take the earlier ones. We’re looking for deacons, right?”

“One female deacon, in particular, married to a rector. But, jot down anything else you find interesting, too.”

Janice nodded, turned the fire down, under the coffee, and poured them each a cup, before sitting down to pore over her stack of books.

They worked in silence, for an hour and a half, before Lisa noticed that Janice was taking copious notes about something, and going through her books, very rapidly.

“You’re chasing something,” she remarked, as Janice scribbled away.

“Lovejoys,” Janice muttered.

“What about them? I’m sure the Judge isn’t in there.”

“No. No, he’s not,” Janice said, looking up. “But, it looks like his descendants are. That’s no surprise, of course. But, when you look at the male line, the line carrying the actual name, things get interesting. Most of them didn’t live, past the age of…” she glanced over her notes, “twenty-seven. Just old enough to marry and start families of their own.”

Lisa stared. “And, the women?”

“The women all seemed to live normal life spans, with a few exceptions—their sons, too, according to the burial records, at least. Of course, some of them would have moved away, and been buried in other places. But, there’s enough here, to make it look like a very strange coincidence, if it is one. I’m sorry—I know you’re looking for someone else, entirely.”

“No, that’s okay. I did tell you to follow anything you found interesting, and that’s undeniably interesting. Give it hell, Janice.” Lisa got up, and got them some more coffee. “Should I attempt to make more?” she held to empty pot up.

“I think I’m fine.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

Another hour passed in silence.

“Well, yeehaw,” Lisa said, at last.

“Found her?”

“Sophie Dixon, 1975. Deaconess and the wife of rector Richard Dixon.”

“Richard Dixon? Poor guy,” Janice shook her head, smiling.

“I know, right? Anyway, they served here, for ten years. Says she’s buried here. Well, not here,” Lisa pointed to the ground, “but in Bainbridge. I think they stopped using this property for burials, in the fifties. And now, I still know nothing,” she realized aloud.

“Let’s call Liam, and give him those names, too. If he’s looking at papers and the like, he may turn up more. What?”

she asked, at Lisa’s look.

“Just thinking that you’re very practical, for a shameless flirt.”

“I do try,” Janice shrugged, smiling.

Lisa got on the phone, and relayed the information to her brother, who promised to pursue it.

“I need to walk Gil,” she observed, when she hung up. At the word, walk, Gilligan leapt to his feet, and shook himself.

“I’ll come, too, if you don’t mind,” Janice said. “I need to stretch my legs.”

“The more, the merrier.”

“Does it make you a little dizzy, all the roll to the land?” Janice asked. “I’m from a place in Louisiana that’s just as flat as Florida, and all of this roll makes me feel slightly woozy. No wonder Spike got carsick.”

“It felt that way, at first. I think I’m starting to get used to it.” Lisa paused, to unclip Gil’s leash. “How is Spike, by the way?”

“He’s over his carsickness, if that’s what you mean. If you mean, who’s walking him, that would be Liam. He said he’d stop on the way to wherever he was going to research, to take him for a stroll.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s sweet. There’s nothing like having your own dog, to make you care about other people’s dogs. You think Gillie saw your hanged men?”

“I don’t know, really. I know he didn’t want to go near the tree. I doubt that means much—he doesn’t seem to have a problem with the house.”

“Hmm…” Janice pondered this. “Maybe he thinks of the house as his own turf.”

“Maybe. Who knows what goes through a dog’s mind? He liked the grotto, well enough. So did I. It felt peaceful, there.”

“How about the church?”

“It’s not bad, now that I’ve gotten rid of the basement door,” Lisa laughed. “Mostly, it feels like an old, empty church. You want to go in?”

“I’d like to, yes, in spite of the rats.”

“Kelly says the population is shrinking. And, there’s something I want to do in there, anyway,” she said, remembering the angel carving.

“It’s like it’s frozen in time,” Janice observed, in a near whisper. It was a little hard to hear her, under the mask. “They just left everything behind, didn’t they?”

“Everything,” Lisa agreed.

“Where are you going to put that?” Janice nodded toward the eight inch carving, in Lisa’s left hand.

“Right on the altar.”

“Isn’t that a little bit ‘in your face’?”

“What if it is? This space is mine, now. As sympathetic as I may be to whatever spirits might be here, it doesn’t belong to them.”

Lisa marched down the aisle, with Janice in tow, and placed the black tourmaline angel on the altar, right in the center.

“This is going to be beautiful, when it’s sunny,” Janice said, eyeing the stained glass.

“I think so. I hope so, anyway.”

“You’ll need music. Otherwise, people will act like it’s a library. You’ll want them quiet, but not silent.”

“I want to have a scheduled story time, for the kids, too.”

“I can see it. Up on the podium, right?”

“Exactly. But, don’t walk up there, just now. The floor is squishy.”

“Oh,” Janice said, stepping down from the first step. “So, what did you see in here?”

“It was smoke, and it was in the basement. It was only once. I’ve been down there, since then, and… nothing. Nothing scarier than bugs, anyway.”

“I wonder why you had a smoke manifestation, if those soldiers didn’t actually die, down there.”

“Good question. But, for all we know, they did, and I’m just seeing things.”

“What happened to the second church?”

“The one that burned was the second church. So, what happened to the third? I have no idea. I don’t even know what kind of construction it was, come to think of it. I was entirely focused on the Civil War era.”

“Understandable. Goodness, it’s chilly, in here.” Janice rubbed her arms.

“Yeah, it–” Lisa began, and broke off, when she saw the smoke rising out of the basement. “It’s time to leave,” she finished.

Janice turned to follow the direction of Lisa’s eyes, before Lisa had the chance to gently propel her toward the door.

“Well, well… Would you look at that,” Janice said, less frightened than awed by the sight.

The smoke continued to waft upward, not as thick as it had been in the confined space of the basement, but every bit as pungent. The two women backed away, watching it gather and coalesce near the altar.

“It’s trying to take form,” Janice whispered.

Lisa watched, incredulous, as Janice whipped out her cell and began filming.

“Are you nuts?” she demanded.

“Probably. Hush, now. Let’s see what it does.”

For a few moments, all it did was condense itself, drifting closer to the stone angel, on the altar. Then, an appendage appeared—clearly an arm. It reached for the carving. The statue rose from the table.

Lisa ducked, dragging Janice with her, as the stone angel flew through the air, toward them. It landed with a hard thud, somewhere behind them.

“Let go,” Janice said, trying to shake off Lisa’s grip, so that she could raise her camera, again. By the time she could do so, the apparition was beginning to lose its shape. For a couple of seconds, it rallied, then it thinned, swirled, and headed back to the basement. “Well, that was interesting,” Janice laughed shakily, as they both stood up again.

“You’re certifiable,” Lisa said, not without a hint of admiration.

“I can’t wait to see if I caught all of that, on video.”

“Well, you’re going to have to. I want to get the hell out of here. But, first–” She walked up the aisle, to where the angel had landed, and retrieved it. Passing by Janice, she stalked back to the altar, and replaced the statue, with a solid thump, on the wooden table.

“I don’t think that’s going to do what you want it to do,” Janice observed.

“It’s a matter of principle,” Lisa replied, grimly. “Let’s go.”

They weren’t in the house ten seconds, before Janice brought up her recording, on her phone. “I got it!” she exclaimed. “I actually got it!”

Lisa frowned, and leaned over Janice’s shoulder to look. Sure enough, there was the cloud of grey smoke, forming into a column, thickening, reaching– And then there was the voice.

“Pagans!” it spat. Then, a split second before it hurled the angel: “Get out!”

“I never heard that,” Lisa said. “Did you?”

“No. I guess it’s a case of EVP.”

“Which is?”

“Electronic Voice Phenomena. I’ve seen it, on ghost hunting shows. Sometimes, allegedly, an audio recorder can pick up voices that a person’s ears can’t or don’t hear. I’ve always thought that part of ghost hunting was fake, but I guess it’s not.”

“Guess not…” Lisa remained standing, but didn’t bother to watch along with Janice, a second time. “Hey, Janice,” she said, before Janice could cue up her video, for a third time, “When was the last time you had your tea leaves read?”

“What?” Janice looked up, with a puzzled smile.

“I want to show that, to someone. Would you email it to me, so I can take my laptop? The screen is bigger.”

“Sure. What’s your address?”

Lisa gave it, and in a minute, the file was in her inbox.

“Where are we going?” Janice asked, as Lisa unplugged her laptop and slipped it into a tote.

“I told you. To get our tea leaves read,” Lisa smiled. “Oh, trust me, Janice. You’ll love it.”