Chapter 17

ANALYNN RILEY

MYSTERY OF THE SINGING GHOST

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This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real.

MYSTERY OF THE SINGING GHOST

By Ana Riley

CHAPTER 17

It's seven thirty in the morning. I’m nervous about this trip. What was supposed to be an exciting ghost hunting expedition has turned into a nightmare.

I’m also nervous about leaving dad and Alex behind. Alex was sick all night, throwing up. The idea that a stranger knew about his building a trap really bothers Alex. It bothers all of us. Someone has been watching us for at least a week. It’s almost as if the house is bugged. Can you see how Fear has got me paranoid?

God, did you invent Fear? I know it has many wonderful benefits to humans like warning us of danger and preparing our bodies for action with adrenalin rushes, but Fear doesn't feel great, God. It's a lousy feeling, actually. So, are You completely responsible for creating it or did YOU KNOW WHO put a finger into the Fear pot and make it so awful?

Mrs. Dalton, a lady who delivers eggs every few weeks, is coming by on her usual run. Dad has arranged for her to drive me to one of the farms on her route. Ethan will meet me there and we’ll take off for Kinistino. Our home is one of the first stops Mrs. Dalton usually makes when she delivers eggs, so she’ll be here soon.

“Gia, it’s time. You better have something to eat before you go.”

“Thanks, Dad, but I can’t eat. How’s Alex?”

“He had a rough night.”

“How was Mom when you talked to her this morning?”

“How did you know I talked to her today?”

“I heard your voice in the bathroom. I figured it wasn’t your place for morning prayers.”

Dad smirks like Ethan. Or, maybe Ethan reminds me of my dad when he smirks.

“She’s worried sick and wishes she was here, but she understands the R.C.M.P.’s advice. Your mom may go to Kinistino to be with you there. Mrs. Dalton’s here. Time to go, my dear.”

Suddenly, the thought of leaving is hitting me hard. I don’t care if my dad thinks I’m immature for crying. I can’t stop myself.

“We’ll be all right, Gia. There are going to be all kinds of people coming and going out of here. It’ll be like Grand Central Station within an hour. I called some of my coaching buddies and we’ve decided that our place is as good as any for our annual fishing trip. We haven’t got a lake and we don’t have any fish, but we have campfires, steaks, sports stories and laughs. They’re all coming up on Friday…”

It’s the first time I’ve seen dad smile since the rock went through the window.

“…And Alex is going to stay with your mother. He’ll drive into Regina with Kyle’s dad tomorrow morning.”

Kyle is our neighbor. He’s only in grade seven, but he’s a good kid. His dad works for a delivery service that runs between Melville and Moose Jaw. Regina isn’t too far out of his way.

“Time to climb into the box, Gia.”

My suitcase is in one box that Dad has already carried out to Mrs. Dalton’s van, and I’m going into a larger box that she and dad will move into her van. We figure that if someone is watching our house, this is the best way to smuggle me out. It’s almost as if I were in some bad movie. I’ve often thought of being a movie star, but I don’t like starving myself just to be a socially acceptable breathing x-ray. The hardest part would be to have to give up Chinese egg rolls and chocolate.

Hugging my dad is difficult. Hugging Alex is difficult also. I’m scared. I’m sad. I’m worried.

The box is dark and awkward. I’m trying to stay in one position but it’s tricky not to slide to one side when they lift me up. Dad put a board in the base of the box so it would be more stable. I think I may have a sliver in my leg from the wood.

They’ve put me down. I must be in the delivery truck. Fortunately, Mrs. Dalton backed up to our door, just like she always does, so nothing looks unusual. Often, people will return the egg cartons they have collected over a period of time, so egg customers will load things into the truck at a delivery.

The greatest thing I can tell you about Mrs. Dalton is that she collects junk. Her house is full of every possible garage sale item. Her yard is equally as cluttered. I’m sure that every penny she makes from selling eggs, she spends on buying junk. I’ve heard she visits the dump once a week. We dropped by her house when we first moved here and she has a complete staircase sitting in her back yard. It even has the handrail still attached. She has an old toilet, a couple of sinks, piles of bricks that she says are very valuable and window frames in all different sizes and shapes. Most of the things are broken and belong in the dump, but Mrs. Dalton says she can plant flowers in them and make the world a more beautiful place by recycling. I thought she was going to use the old rubber tires for flowerbeds, but she says she’s going to use the tires to build a play area for her grandchildren, though you might find it interesting to know that her only grandchild is already twelve years old.

Anyway, Mrs. Dalton is a crazy driver. I’m supposed to climb out of the box when she toots her horn, which should be any moment now.

Horn toot. My cue. Now, if I can get out of here without throwing up, it’ll be a miracle.

This truck smells like chickens. It smells like farmyard. It smells like old egg cartons. It smells like someone just ate a boiled egg. There’s a hint of one of those pine scented hanging deodorizers. And it smells of cigarette smoke!

“Well, girl, how’s it feel to be part of some nutcase’s warped plan to destroy the world?”

I have to smile at Mrs. Dalton. She is missing teeth and now that she has removed her hat, it looks like she has never ever brushed her hair, though she has lots of barrettes and decorative hair combs in the tangles and curls. I think she must have…let me count … four…six…nine…fourteen…seventeen hair clips, all of which she probably got for a few cents at one of her garage sales, holding her gray striped locks into place. Her reading glasses are so big that Alex says she has to use window wipers to clean them.

I miss Alex. I can’t believe I’m thinking that.

“One thing for sure about the guy who is doing this to our family is that he’s some sort of sicko. Or, he has some important mission to accomplish, and at any price.”

“Stuff like this has been goin’ on for years in these parts. Just that nobody paid much attention ‘til now. There’s just too many coincidences happening all at once, if ya know what I mean. They’re piling up, happening too fast and to too many folks, if ya know what I mean.”

“Why do you think this bad stuff is happening, Mrs. Dalton?”

“Farmers are gettin' fed up with no one carin' 'bout the industry. They try to make a livin' on grain, but the prices are jinxed, if ya know what I mean. Some farmers decide to get into cattle and then some lone cow in Alberta gets a disease and the whole industry is shut down. Government boys don’t care 'bout us here on the prairies. Bet if this was in Ontario, somethin' would have been done about the cows long ago, if ya know what I mean.”

When Mrs. Dalton speaks, the lines on her face move simultaneously with every word, like an orchestra playing background music to her monologue. She speaks in a soft but strong voice. I wouldn’t want her to get angry with me. No doubt she could throw a mean egg and make a mighty mess.

“Do you think someone would actually hurt my family?”

“First time somethin' like this has ever gone that far. But, when you think they shot a dog, burned one farmer out, and so on, anything’s possible, if ya know what I mean.”

“Who do you think is doing these terrible things?”

“Not locals, that’s for sure. Some different kids were hangin' out at the mall last week. Some of our girls was happy to see new boys in town. No one seems to know where them boys come from and why they’re in Yorkton, but it’s the holidays and with the lakes and all, they could be visitin' relatives or on their way through to some other town, if ya know what I mean. Well, girl, we’re here. It’s been nice havin' ya along. Maybe I should get someone to help me with these here deliveries. There’s that boy of yours. Ethan’s a good kid, comes from a decent family, if ya know what I mean.”

“Thanks for bringing me here, Mrs. Dalton. I really appreciate it.”

“I’d say ‘anytime’, but hope it never has to be this way again, if ya know what I mean.”

“Yeah, me too. See you.”

“Take good care of her, Ethan. You two drive level, okay?”

“We will. Bye, Mrs. Dalton." Ethan looks like he hasn't slept much, but I don't think now is the time to tell him so. Besides, he's preparing to say something: "How was the trip?”

“Fine. I’m safe and I’m glad to be here with you.”

“It’s been a rough few days, huh?”

“How did you get time off from work today?”

“Made a few arrangements. Your dad said Alex was better.”

“You spoke to my dad?”

“This morning. I wanted to be sure you got away safely.”

“Do you think our phones are being tapped?”

“Unlikely. Phone tapping isn’t the easiest thing to do in this country.”

I’m finding it a strain just to string words together to converse with Ethan, though you know by now that talking and being with him are two things worth living for in life. My mind feels cluttered, like Mrs. Dalton’s house. There is so much junk rolling around in my brain, I’m finding it strenuous to concentrate. My body is sinking into the jeep’s leather seats. I don’t think my legs would support me if I needed to walk. It's nice to be silent and to be driven down a lonely highway.

When I look out the jeep windows, the quiet makes the last day of my life seem more unreal. The fields are calm. There are some farmers still harvesting, but otherwise, there's just a glorious early morning sun suspended in the sky. The clouds are lazy, floating without aim or purpose. These lazy clouds are drifting along to the steady rhythm and hum of the jeep's motor. God, do You plan out things like this or do they just happen?

This trip is just what I needed. I hope my mom is in Kinistino. I miss her so much and if she sees that I am well, she will worry less. I know we're supposed to be going to Kinistino to then ghost hunt in Weldon, but for some reason, all my interest in sleuthing has dissipated with the recent events at our home and with our family.

I'm glad Alex is feeling better. I know he's a first class jerk and I know I said our family would be better off without him, but when I heard him so sick last night, my heart jumped with each of his wretches. He seemed more human in the past forty-eight hours than ever that I can remember. I actually wanted to give him that damp cloth for his sweating forehead last night. Well, to be absolutely honest with you, his prancing back and forth to the washroom and then his constant tossing in his creaky bed kept me awake, so if the cloth was going to help me get some sleep, then of course I'd give it to him. Anyway, the thought of anything happening to him is somehow unpleasant.

We're already past Springside. Time is zipping along nicely. The further away from Yorkton we drive, the safer I feel.

“Gia, I was thinking that … huh … someone’s phoning me.” Ethan has call display on his cell phone. “I don’t recognize the number … Hello?”

Ethan is pulling over onto the shoulder of the highway. He doesn’t think it’s smart to talk on the phone and drive at the same time. I wonder if he’s always so careful and logical about things. Does anything ever go askew in his life?

“… You’re where? … We’re on our way! Stay there. I know which one it is. It’s going to be okay. Just stay put! Be there in a moment. Call me if there’s any change!”

“What’s wrong?”

“It was Alex.” Ethan is turning the jeep around and heading back into town. “I’ll explain in a moment. I have another call to make.” Ethan may not think driving while chatting is smart, but he’s doing it now. He’s calling someone and he’s speeding.

“No answer. Did your dad say whether or not he was going to the Harvest Ho-Down?”

“Yes, he’s there. Why? What’s wrong, Ethan? Why did Alex phone you? Where is he?”

“He’s in a washroom stall at the mall.”

“What’s he doing at the mall? Why did he call YOU from a toilet?”

“I didn’t wait to get the entire story. He just said there’s been trouble and he’s afraid. We should be there in a few minutes.”

My stomach is getting all tensed up again. I don’t think I’m meant to be chasing ghosts right now because each time we try to coordinate an expedition, something goes wrong. Everyone always says stuff happens in threes. Is this possibly the third mishap that’s to happen? I didn’t want to know or believe in a third one, but it looks as if I’m about to find out about it anyway.

“What did Alex’s voice sound like? Calm or nervous?”

“Scared, but he was thinking clearly.”

“I wonder why he was at the mall.”

“We’re here. I want you to stay in the vehicle until I come back. I’ll leave my keys here for you. Keep the doors locked. I won’t be long.”

You know that I’m not fond of my brother. In fact, I’ve been convinced that life would be perfect without him, but right now, I’m worried about Alex. Suddenly, I care about what happens to him. Maybe all this stress is getting to me. It’s one thing to argue about his stupid antics but when he’s trapped in a washroom cubicle, it changes things. Here they come now. Why can’t I get the automatic door lock to open? Got it!

“Wow, Alex, what’s happened to you? You look awful!”

Ethan’s not wasting a minute. He’s driving as if his life depends on it.

“Gia, here’s my phone. Try your dad again, just in case he is home.”

“Sure, but I want to know what’s going on. Somebody tell me, please.”

Alex is sitting in the back seat, staring straight ahead. I don’t think he’s aware of me even being here.

“No answer at home.”

“Alex happened to be in one of the washroom cubicles when he overhead a group of guys saying they should get paid more since they did that last job. Alex heard them talking about the rock through the window and the other incidences that have taken place. Sounds as if they just got back from finishing their last deed – and well timed, I might add, with all the farmers at the harvester’s show.”

My stomach is spinning. I don’t want to believe what I’m hearing. Alex looks so childlike, so helpless.

“Where was he when you found him?”

“Sitting on the toilet seat, hugging his knees with his feet curled up under him so they wouldn’t know he was in there.”

“Did you see any guys that aren’t locals?”

“No.”

“Where are we going?”

“Over to Milikins. Apparently that’s the last farm hit.”

I’m phoning home again. Suddenly, punching in my own phone number seems like the longest sequence of digits. There’s no answer. I’ll keep trying.

“Alex, do you know where your dad is?”

“Nope. Supposed to pick me up in an hour.”

“Were you meeting anyone else at the mall?”

“Yeah, a couple of guys but they never showed, or maybe they came while I was in the washroom.”

I want to know why Alex was at the mall but he looks so lost and forlorn that I guess my curiosity is going to be put on hold for a while. I wish I could say something that would put an end to all this trouble that’s going on.

“Is it much further to Milikin's?” Ethan is driving with great intent. In other words, he's speeding.

“Next turn. Alex, you up to some hard labor?”

“Count me in.” That’s the first thing Alex has said with his usual sense of bravado.

“I don’t know the Milikins. Are they friends of your family?”

“I went to school with their oldest daughter. They have a girl in grade nine as well. Alex, you know Amy?”

“Yeah, she’s cool.”

Ethan going to school with another girl … of course he did – lots of other girls. I’ve never had any reason to be jealous of Ethan until this moment. Why would some girl that I’ve never met or seen bother me in the slightest? I wonder if he liked her. Need information. Skirt the issue gently.

“Have the Milikins been in this area for long?”

“Since I was born.”

This girl and Ethan probably went to elementary school together, maybe even kindergarten. I wonder what she looks like. I wonder if she’s dating anyone. I wonder if Ethan ever had a crush on her. I wonder if …

“Lizzy should be at the beach party. You may get a chance to meet her if it works out that we don’t go to Weldon after all.”

“I forgot completely about the beach party, so much has been going on. Do you still want to go?”

“Yeah, if we can get this other stuff sorted out and if the police think it’s okay for you to be there.”

“You mean the kidnapping thing?”

“Never know, considering the damage these guys have done so far.”

“Still no answer at my house. Is this the Milikin's? That’s some terrific house! Doesn’t look like anyone is home. Want me to ring the doorbell?"

“Sure. Alex, you and I will take a look around.”

“Hi … Mrs. Milikin? I’m Gia Cooper and I … are you alright?”

I’m staring at this young woman’s face and it’s smeared with tears and dirt and she has a baby on her hip. It looks like the baby just threw up on Mrs. Milikin. Baby vomit and a crying woman have a way of clearing ones mind of nonessentials. The woman’s eyes are huge, frightened cylindrical mirrors reflecting my face and the deck I’m standing on.

“Mrs. Milikin, are you okay?”

“Come in, quick! … Danger! … Come in now! My husband is …”

“Danger? What danger?”

“Boars, hundreds of them! Tore up my garden. I was weeding and there they were! Went after my daughter. Please, shut the door! It’s not safe!”

“Ethan!"

"I’ll be right back!"

"Alex! Ethan? Where are you guys going? There are wild boars … ETHAN! Look out! ETHAN!”

Email Analynn about what you think is going to happen to Ethan.

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Chapter 17