Note: the names have been changed to protect the innocent. And the dead.
The trick-or-treaters were gone. They were probably home sorting and trading their candy.
We adults who trick-or-treated with shot glasses were still at it. I wore the flapper costume that I bought for a masquerade fundraiser last year. My husband dressed in an old woolen cutaway coat and stovetop pipe hat. You’d think in the Land of Lincoln, he’d be impersonating our favorite president; but alas, he was an undertaker.
Our host were Ginger and Graham – or Fred and Ginger this year. Ginger wore the pants, and Graham wore the gown. The other two couples came as a nurse and doctor, and a horse – the husband taking the appropriate role of horse’s ass.
The dogs, Hanz and Franz, started snarling. Their German schnauzer ears were pointed forward in alert mode; their stiff bodies stood at the ready to protect us.
“What are you barking about?” Graham asked.
“Maybe they’re seeing a ghost,” I suggested as I pulled my wrap tighter around me. The temperature suddenly dropped in the cozy living room. It was filled with eight adults, and only a few minutes ago, I was too warm. Perhaps I was coming down with something.
“Well there doesn’t seem to be any straggling trick-or-treaters outside,” Ginger said – the real one, not the drag.
Jane, the nurse pointed out that the dogs were looking at the hallway and not the front door.
“Hey, take a picture!” Graham exclaimed. “Maybe we’ll catch an orb. I hear that’s how you know a spirit is there.”
“When did you become a paranormal expert?” I asked. Graham shrugged, “I saw it on TV once.”
“But why would the dogs act like that now?” You’ve lived here for four years. Have they ever acted like this before now?” Jane asked.
Ginger cocked her head in thought, mimicking the dogs. “Come to think of it – no.”
I lifted my phone and snapped a picture that lined up with the dog’s line of sight – near the ceiling in the front hall. Still chilled, I felt static electricity run through my body. I shivered and stood to move around and perhaps warm up.
Note to self: wear a warmer outfit for Halloween.
I walked up and down the front hallway, Hanz and Franz’s eyes following me. They still sat at the ready. I felt an icy mist pass through me and I again shuddered. A voice in my ear asked if her mother was here.
“No.” I said, rubbing my arms.
“No, what?” asked Ginger.
“No clue. Just trying to add up two plus two plus one. I keep getting four. Perhaps I’m forgetting to carry the one.”
“Are you talking in riddles?” asked Jane.
The doorbell rang. The dogs remained guarded, but were silent. How odd.
“I’ll get it.” I offered. “I’m right here.”
The porch light illuminated a large man in the dark blue uniform of an Elk Grove Village police officer. Here we go, I thought.
“Good evening. Is this the Masek residence?” He asked when I opened the door.
“You’ve come to tell us someone has died, haven’t you?”
Now the others joined me in the hall, jostling for a better spot.
“Uh, yeah. Is Mrs. Masek here?”
“She died four years ago. She has a daughter, Edith, somewhere.” Graham offered.
“Well, her daughter died overseas, and we just got the call to notify next of kin. This was the address listed in her emergency contact. The phone was disconnected. Now this all make sense.” The police backed away from the door, “Thank you for your time.”
While the others walked back into the living room, I watched the policeman head back to his car. He stopped and turned to look at me. He shook his head as I felt ice run through my veins again. He stared longer at me this time.
Edith was right behind me.
“See?” I whispered. “You won’t find her here. You’ll have to seek her elsewhere.” I could see my breath as I spoke.
“Hey Claire, did you take a picture?” asked Graham.
“Yeah, coming!” I called back, closing the front door. The cold mist evaporated.
I picked up my phone and pulled up the photo. Without another thought I passed it to Graham.
Peering into the screen, Graham squinted without his reading glasses. “Hmm, I don’t see anything.”
“Oh give me that.” Ginger swiped the phone from him. “No, I don’t – oh! Wait a minute! I see a face!”
The others rushed to peer over Ginger’s shoulder. I reclaimed my seat and patted the dogs, who came to sit beside me.
My husband handed me my shot glass. “You’d better drink up. You’ll have some explaining to do.”
I nodded and threw back Graham’s homemade liquor. I really should get his recipe for this, I thought. My husband draped his wool coat over my shoulders. He’s usually the cold one in the family.
“Claire, what did you say to that police officer?” Jane inquired.
“I told him I knew he was here to tell us someone had died.”
“How did you know that?”
I sighed. “I’m a sensitive.”
“You’re a what?”
“I’m sensitive to paranormal occurrences. Sometimes I can sense the outcome of news stories the moment I first hear them.”
“Wow!” Ginger said, handing me my phone.
I looked at the screen, my photo still lighting it up. I pull my forefinger and thumb apart to zoom in to the area where Edith Masek stood. It was her favorite image of herself. Her dark hair was pulled away from her face, and she wore a collared dress in a light color and a corsage. Very 1960’s. Perhaps she had gotten that corsage at a wedding or special day.
I saved it to my phone and poured another drink. Warmth was returning to my body. I lifted my glass and purposed a toast.
“Safe travels, Edith.”
Hint: Look for “Edith” in the doorway.
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