A Ghost of Brother Johnathan's: Shannon Delaney Series Vol. 5 Page 6

  “I love the fashion of the dining room, it has a casual jazzy vibe of Art Deco meets French bistro,” I commented as we followed the restaurant’s hostess to our table.

  After sitting down, Luke replied, “And the food is good to. Yeah, I like the interior, it’s different from other restaurants and eateries in Eureka. Too many of them play-up the historic, nostalgia theme, all antique-ish and such. Don’t get me wrong, I love anything to do with Eureka’s history, but I like variety, too.”

  A waiter brought menus and then slipped away. I asked Luke if he had favorites on the menu.

  “Yes. I do. My two favorites are the Seared Wild Salmon with Bacon and Parmesan Crust and then there’s the Fresh Linguini with Creole Spiced Bechamel. I love wild mushrooms, and both of these dishes have them.”

  Wild mushrooms? I thought, what a coincidence? “Sounds good to me. I’ll try the Linguini dish.”

  Our waiter reappeared and took our orders. I couldn’t get it out of my mind that this restaurant, so far north on the California coast offered Creoleinspired cuisine and the dishes had wild mushrooms. The questions that were tickling my brain were now begging me to query Luke. And so, I did.

  “Luke, I was wondering, have you ever had an interest in the history of Jonathan Rupp, also known as Brother Jonathan, the circus clown, and his tavern, Edgewild?”

  I think my query hit a nerve. Luke readjusted his position in his chair in a manner that he turned toward me and was closer. He leaned in a little and said, “Do you know of the theories surrounding Rupp and his involvement with an underground Confederate sympathizer organization called the Knights of the Golden Circle?”

  I was stunned speechless. Thoughts raced through my brain matrixing into a composition of pure and definitive logic.

  “Shannon, did I upset you?”

  I leaned into Luke and whispered, “There’s a descendant of Jonathan Rupp here in Eureka. Her name is Marta Keller. Well, Marta told me that a voice told her, and I quote, ‘She’s cagey, see.’”

  I had confused Luke. I grabbed my napkin and grabbed a pen from my purse. I wrote out the phrase: She’s cagey, see.

  “Luke, now I understand the message Marta received. It meant she, and who she is, I do not know, but evidently, she is a member of the KGC. The initials for Knights of the Golden Circle.”

  The expression on Luke’s face was priceless. He sat stone stiff, but I could feel the wheels turning.

  Luke whispered, “Shannon, there has always been suspicion that the wreck of the Brother Jonathan was a deliberate sinking, executed by the KGC. Personally, I never bought the story of how Jonathan Rupp died. The shoot-out seemed bogus to me, but of course, that far back in time, and the only witnesses to give testimony were unquestionably two of Eureka’s most upstanding citizens, so no person would ever doubt their eyewitness account. Plus, that incident happened decades after the American Civil War, still…,”

  I picked up on his thoughts. “Still, many people in the nation believe that the KGC went deep underground and in fact, remain active today. When I was little, growing up in Mississippi, my grandfather always cautioned me about going too far into the woods. He said there were scripture trees and that the trees were ciphers to where Confederate gold was buried. He also said the trees are watched and that intruders, or innocent bystanders, can meet with serious mishaps if they go snooping around the scripture trees.”

  “Do you think that’s true?” Luke asked.

  “I know there are scripture trees and scripture rocks, some people might call them by other names, like bible trees, but they serve the same purpose. Once, when I was out in the bayou with my cousin Corlah, we came across a scripture tree. She said she knew it was one because her father told her so and he knew the family who were the sentinels of it.”

  “What did it look like?”

  “It was a huge cypress, probably had been there long before the Civil War. The carved signs were up high on the tree, near the fork of two large limbs. Corlah and I took turns boosting each other up in order to see the markings. They were carved deep into the trunk. I recall that most of the markings looked like line-drawn pictures of arrows and triangles, that sort of thing. Except for one, it looked like a stout horse, or maybe a donkey.”

  Luke whistled low and then sat back. The waiter was approaching with our dinners.

  Luke barley noticed his meal. He looked at me and said, “Jonathan Rupp had a donkey. Supposedly he used him to go into the forest and hunt for wild mushrooms.”

  I replied, “Could it be that Rupp was really using his donkey to pack Confederate gold in and out of hiding places in the forest, and that wild mushroom hunting was no more than an excuse for him to go off alone into the woods?”

  “Could be. But maybe Rupp is not the Confederate spy, maybe it was that lady and her boyfriend, uh, whatever was her name, the one that was involved in the shoot-out?” Luke said.

  I answered, “Bonnie Parting, and her boyfriend was Gunter Kraemer. I wonder if Parting is the she, referred to in the message Marta was given. In other words, Bonnie Parting is KGC. Luke, can you access police records that far back?”

  “That far back, all the really old records, or what is left of them, are in storage down in the basement of police headquarters. I can look into it. But I doubt if I can get you access to see them.”

  “Could you copy them, or take a digital camera and shoot them?” I suggested.

  Luke was about to take a bite of salmon when he set his fork down. He chuckled and then said, “I’ve only known you for half a day, and already you are attempting to corrupt me?”

  “No. Not true. I would never ask you to act illegally. Good grief, Luke, some of my favorite people are in law enforcement.”

  Luke laughed outright. “Shannon, all I need do is ask the police captain for permission to work on the file in my spare time. That case is so cold, it’s frozen and way beyond any legal jurisdictions. I’ll even ask if I can copy the file and share it with you.”

  Argh! I wanted to stab him with his own fork, but I put aside my irritation in favor of getting my hands on the case files regarding Rupp’s death. I chose a different angle.

  “I’ll talk with Marta Keller later tonight. I was going to ask her about Rupp’s donkey. Just out of curiosity, do you know anything about it?” I asked Luke.

  “Hmm, yeah. Well, sort of. I remember reading that Rupp was crazy about his donkey, gave him a real fancy name.” Luke paused and I did not want to interrupt his thinking. He smiled. “Yeah, I think the name was Geoffrey Ozwald Dresden, Rupp called the donkey God, for short.”

  “Are you sure about that name?” I asked.

  “Not one hundred percent certain, in fact, it could be lore. There has always been numerous stories circulated about Jonathan Rupp. In that era, he was an oddity. For one, he was probably the only midget anyone in these parts had ever seen, let alone got to know firsthand. He was one of the few survivors of the shipwreck of the Brother Jonathan. Then there’s the novelty that he was a circus clown with the same name of the ship that wrecked, from which he survived. Jonathan Rupp was a person of mystery and novelty. Stories, true and fantastic, were circulated about him. Honestly, I do not remember where that information came to me. So, let’s not accept the donkey’s name as fact, okay?”

  CHAPTER 10

  We had finished our dinner and Luke paid the tab. As we left Hurricane Kate’s to walk back to the hotel I commented to Luke, “At the end you meet God… that’s what he meant? Weird. Why would I need to, want to, or would go meet Rupp’s donkey, Geoffrey Ozwald Dresden? And, to what end?”

  “Why would anyone? And remember that in all likelihood, the story of the donkey’s name is nonsense,” Luke replied.

  I was about to say more when my cell phone rang, we stopped in our tracks and stood with our backs against the wall of a shop, out of the way of pedestrian traffic. Luke obliging turned his back to give me privacy while I took the call. I hung up and tapped Luke on the shoulder.

/>   “That was Marta. I need to go to her home right now, this moment.” I heard the panic in my voice and Luke did too.

  “Why? What can I do to help?” I was power walking and Luke had no problem keeping up with my stride and our conversation. In stunted phrases I explained, “Need to do an investigation and an EVP session, right now. Activity has heightened. Marta is worried.”

  I didn’t glance at Luke for his reaction. I didn’t want to see the look in his eye when he realized what I was talking about. Turns out, I need not have worried.

  “We can take my car. I keep two extra digital sound recorders in the trunk for cases I work on and I’ve got two extra digital cameras and extra batteries for all the devices.”

  Now I turned to him, to see his expression. He was all business. It made me wonder if he had conducted paranormal investigations before. His car was in sight, we both broke into an easy jog, reaching his car at the same time. Within ten minutes we pulled up to the curb in front of Marta’s house. Just as before, her entire house was lit.

  Luke noticed the bright lighting inside Marta’s home and said, “Is she expecting others?”

  “No. She keeps the lights on for the others.” I emphasized that description and added, “And I do not mean people, at least not living ones. Come on.” I dashed out of the car and Luke was right there beside me. Marta had seen us park, she had her door open and ushered us in.

  “Please, come in.” She looked at Luke and said, “Detective Landry, Shannon said you might come. I do hope that this, uh, this situation is not too eccentric for a police detective. You do realize this is not an official call?”

  In a compassionate gesture, Luke gently placed his right palm on Marta’s shoulder. “Call me Luke. I understand the gist of tonight’s visit and I’m here as a private citizen, and a friend of Shannon’s.” I know that his calm, truthful words and physical expression gave Marta peace of mind.

  Marta nodded, turned to me and said, “It’s in the basement. We should have flashlights on. I have the basement lights on, but at their best, it’s dim down there. Watch your step on the stairs.” Marta turned and we followed her through the kitchen to a back pantry room and from its back wall, the basement door was wide open. We descended into the basement.

  I followed Marta and Luke followed me. The flight of stairs was typical of every basement I had ever been in, they were wood with a single handrail on the right side. I counted seventeen steps to the bottom. The stairs ended at the center of the basement. We stood on concrete floor that wasn’t painted or varnished, nor did it have telltale signs of water damage, it was clean and a little dusty.

  Directly in front of us stood a washer and dryer combo, next to it was an ironing board with an unplugged iron, and to the left of that were ceiling-high windows that faced the backyard. Underneath the windows, a set of cupboard shelves held the usual laundry necessities, including various kinds of detergent, fabric softeners, and clothes hangers.

  To our right, and continuing around behind us, was an open storage area stacked with boxes, crates and packed with miscellaneous pieces of furniture. From the corner of my eye I spied an old oak rocking chair, and turned to admire it. It was that kind of rocker that Rosario referred to as a papa-bear chair. I could not help but to think that if Rosario were here, we’d all be ambushed by her love for antique furniture and furnishings and we would be hustled into exploring every nook and cranny for fear that a treasure would slip by her. Obviously, having hidden treasures from the past under her feet did not faze Marta, in the least.

  “Look over here,” I heard Luke say.

  I turned directly behind me and walked about twelve feet to the very back of the basement. There, propped up against a tall mahogany bed headboard was an ornate gold-framed mirror. Luke stood off to its side.

  Luke said, “By my calculation, this is at least four feet wide and six feet tall. Maybe it was used for a dressing room wall?”

  “Uh-uh.” Marta came forward. “That’s the mirror that hung on the wall, over the bar at Jonathan’s Rupp’s Edgewild Tavern. The mirror was placed on the wall the way we see it now, horizontally. Not vertical-wise the way one uses a dressing mirror.” Marta pointed to a folded sheet of canvas, left on the floor off to the side of the mirror. “It had been covered for decades. I just uncovered it last month. An antique dealer in Crescent City had called me about it, he wanted to know if I would be willing to part with it, for a pretty price, of course.”

  “And you decided not to sell it?” Luke asked.

  “That antiques dealer never showed up. I waited all that day for him and he never called and never showed up. Therefore, I’ve not given it much more consideration. I suppose I could donate it to the new tavern. It seems a bit too fancy for a pizza parlor.”

  “Or not,” I piped in. “Marta, I have an idea. Do you have some candles, small ones, such as a votive or tealight, that cold be placed in glass jars or short beverage glasses?”

  “I have several votive candles, most are scented, if that’s okay. And most are in little glass containers. How many do you need?”

  I looked around where we stood and guestimated the space. “Five or six should be just about right. I’ll help you bring them down.”

  “No, you just stay put and do whatever arranging you need. I’ll be right back.” Marta turned and went up stairs; we could hear her footsteps above us.

  Luke turned to me and asked, “What are you planning to do?”

  “I’m going to make the best use possible of this mirror. The advantage we have in having an authentic possession of Jonathan Rupp’s is not to be wasted. Tonight, along with an EVP session, I will use this mirror to scry. Now, please help me move a few things.”

  If my idea caught Luke by surprise, he did not say so. With his help we had the perfect floor arrangement when Marta returned with the candles.

  The mirror was now in a vertical position, leaning against the headboard, but as upright as we could manage and still have it securely propped up without danger of it falling over. I stood front and center to it, six feet away. The effect reminded me of standing in front of a carnival funhouse mirror when I was little. However, this time I didn’t move, jump up and down or wave my hands to view and be entertained by the distortion. In fact, this mirror displayed no distortion whatsoever. Luke stood to my left, out of direct sight of the mirror and Marta did likewise, to my right. The six candles Marta provided were placed on the floor, at even intervals on all sides in front of the mirror, creating an arc of flickering light, encircling us and reflecting into the looking glass world of Jonathan Rupp’s mirror.

  Marta was calm. Luke was wide-eyed.

  “What’s next?” Luke asked.

  I explained, “Because the electrical lights are already dim, we can leave them on. You two will remain where you are. Do not make a move, regardless of what you see, hear or what may appear to happen to me. And Luke, make no mistake, I do mean regardless of what appears to happen to me. I will begin by saying a blessing.” I looked at Marta. “I don’t think Jonathan Rupp will mind that my blessing is of Celtic origin. I don’t know any German ones. The Celtic sentiment applies to all cultures.”

  Marta smiled and said, “Go right ahead, dear.”

  “Okay, Luke, turn on the digital recorders, place them around this arc, but on the outside, about a foot away.”

  He did so and then asked, “How about the digital cameras?”

  “Because they are quiet, they can be used, but no flash. So use them as you see fit.” Luke nodded agreement.

  Standing still, I breathed deeply and slowly for a few moments. I swallowed hard and cleared my throat the best I could without coughing. Then, focusing my attention on the mirror, I gazed into its gleaming surface and said:

  “Encircle us, guardian spirit. Keep protection near. And danger afar.

  Encircle us, guiding spirit. Keep hope within. Keep doubt without.

  Encircle us, guiding spirit. Keep light near. And darkness afar.

/>   Encircle us, guardian spirit. Keep peace within. Keep evil out.” As I uttered the last sound, a blinding spark of light burst across the surface of the mirror. All the electrical lights went dark. The flickering flames of the candles cast shadows on the walls and on our faces. Nevertheless, the mirror stayed true and unflawed in its brilliance.

  I looked at Luke to get confirmation that a camera’s flash had not caused the light flare. He shook his head no and held his hands open to show he did not have a camera. I turned my attention back to the mirror.

  Gazing directly into the mirror’s glimmering light, I said, “We are not here to harm you.”

  “We know,” a company of voices replied.

  “Do you prefer darkness?” I asked.

  “We like the light,” the voices answered.

  So far, very good. I decided to take a stronger, more direct approach and asked, “May we communicate with Jonathan Rupp?”

  Intense silence filled the room. My heart pounded as I strained to hear a reply. Instead, I heard the screech of a car braking from a few streets away and a dog’s mournful howl in the dark distance. Above my head, I heard the steady ticking of Marta’s grandfather clock in the hallway. From its rhythm I counted the seconds in deafening stillness. Three minutes crept by. I was about to call it quits, then the voices called out.

  “Something here. Something here,” the voices said.

  “Where?” I asked in a strong and clear voice.”

  “Here,” a soft female voice said.

  “In the mirror?” I queried

  “No. No, no,” a single voice whispered. Then “Here. Here, here,” the familiar soft female voice answered.

  “May I communicate with Jonathan Rupp?” I asked again.

  “Nooo,” a single voice answered.

  Frustrated and drained of energy, I was about to ask one more time to speak with Rupp. I inched two steps closer to the mirror. Then, without indication, from behind me, an orb of fiery light shot across the room, swooping in close to my face and then it stopped, a few inches from the mirror’s surface. The orb hung in the air, pulsating bright to dim and then with no warning or obvious cause, it burst into millions of points of glittering light. The mirror shattered and falling like pieces of the sky, the sparkling mirrored glass fragments spilled out onto the concrete floor.