The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection Page 9

  What if she couldn’t leave? And there was the incident with the chair. No matter how hard she tried, Anne could find no logical reason for how it managed to turn itself over and land upside down in the corner. Poltergeist? Angry ghost? The thought sent shivers shooting through her body. She didn’t really believe it, but it was 3 AM and just because you can’t see it.

  Chapter Four

  The first thing Anne noticed when she pulled up at the curb was that the front door was open. Something was very wrong. Vera would never do that. Hurrying up to the house the grass almost tripped her up in her haste.

  “Vera? Its Anne. Can I come in?” She entered tentatively and walked into the sitting room. An obese man was sitting on Vera’s couch rolling tobacco while Vera repeatedly bashed the kitchen wall with the red chair chanting

  “LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE.”

  The man licked his tobacco paper closed, lit his smoke, and flicked the match on to the floor. He stood up and blue white smoke curled toward Anne’s face so that she had to turn her head away.

  The hamburger Anne held seemed suddenly vulnerable and she clutched it under her arm tightly, not caring if oil dripped on to her shirt.

  “Who are you?”

  Her tone was clipped.

  “Hello Darlin’ what’s that you got there?”

  The man pointed his rolly at the burger.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The words clicked off Anne’s tongue. The man lowered his voice to a taunting whisper.

  “They call me BOO on account of I scare people.” Moving closer he towered over Anne’s 167cm 62kg frame, and held his hand out toward the box. Boo was at least 184cm and probably 110kg. “Are you gonna give a hungry man a feed?”

  “I didn’t know you’d be here. This one’s for Vera.”

  “Vera don’t want it. She’s bleedin’ nuts.” He raised his voice to cover the din in the kitchen, “You’re nuts aren’t ya luv? Tell the lady you don’t want it.” Anne turned to look at Vera and quick as a flash he grabbed the box. “Haaa.” He leaned in close, his filthy stench causing her to gag. “God helps them who helps themselves.”

  Anne squashed anger down, so as not to provoke the intruder and, turning toward Vera, she called over to her

  “Vera let’s leave? Would you like to come to my place just for a little while?”

  “LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE. LEAVE.”

  Turning back to Boo, fury burned up through Anne’s chest. This filthy drunk was leaving. Whatever it took she would find him somewhere else to flop, the police could force Boo out. But her hopes were short lived.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “There’s not much we can do, Miss Crowther. Neither of 'em has a right to be there. If we take one we take the other.” Anne gave a furious sigh between gritted teeth.

  Leaving the station, she drove back to the office and thundered in to make phone calls to shelters that might take Boo. It was annoying to find Pamela unexpectedly there over what was usually her lunch hour. And Pamela must’ve sensed her disposition because she walked over and eyeballed Anne.

  “You seem upset, Anne.” Anne bit her bottom lip. It was difficult to hide her concern and shouldn’t Pamela give a damn too?

  “There’s an intruder in the house the old woman lives in. Her name’s Vera, and she’s not safe up there with this guy. He’s already taken over everything she has.”

  “Remember why you were transferred from your last position – don’t make the same mistake again. I know you want to, but you can’t save the world.” Anne sat silent, fuming, while Pamela continued her lecture. “Unless there’s a crime, you can’t do anything.”

  “She’s an aged woman, alone.” Anne employed a respectful tone to soften the challenge.

  Pamela paused momentarily and seemed to decide an issue. “See if you can get her to come in and we can at least find a temporary shelter until something can be sorted.” Anne got up to leave. “Anne, it’s best if you don’t go up there alone anymore. You are placing yourself at risk, I’ll go with you next time. It’s against policy for you to intentionally place yourself in harm’s way. Understood?”

  Early the next day, Anne was on the road.

  “Hi Mac, got your coffee and your Crispy Kreme.”

  Mac rolled over from on his makeshift cardboard bed.

  “You’re my angel, you are.”

  “Well, I want something in return today though.”

  Mac took a sip of his coffee and peered at her through narrowed eyes, his pupils suddenly hard. “And what would that be?”

  “Not a lot. Just – that old house that Vera’s at? Why’s everyone so scared of it?”

  Mac leaned back on one elbow. He clicked his teeth for a minute . “Crazy shit happens. One night you’ll be hunky dory, the next you’ll get something tossed at you, outta nowhere. And before you go thinking it’s the grog, or the pills, well… let’s just say I got outta that house before it killed me.”

  “What happened?” Anne asked.

  Mac eyed her, almost suspiciously.

  “She still got that sofa?”

  “There’s a broken one there. It’s brown.” Anne shrugged.

  “Yeah, well it weren’t so broken till it came hurtlin’ through the air. Missed me by a whisker before it hit the wall. I shit m’self gettin out of the house. Why you askin’ anyway?”

  If that really happened… and if it wasn’t the grog… Anne peered at him closely as she spoke. “Because someone’s up there with Vera. He’s a real big bloke, calls himself Boo.”

  Mac shook his head. “Can’t say I ever heard of him. He musta just blown in.” Downing the rest of his coffee he lay back down. “He won’t last long.” Anne got up to leave. She walked a few steps before Mac called her.

  “Hey Sweetheart, there’s more. I never told it ‘cause I didn’t know if they’d lock me up for bein’ an accessory – like - after the crime. But as you’re goin’ up there, I think I should tell ya.” He waved his hand toward the low stone and she sat back down.

  “Two Christmases back, I jumped a train from Hampshire toward London and met a bloke called George doing the same. It was freezin’ when we hopped off and when we saw the house was abandoned we headed up to it and forced our way in. It was like a Christmas gift from the Lord himself finding that place with only one squatter in it. Couldn’t believe how clean it was! No needles, or broken glass, no shit on the floor. The old girl kept it good. – and she even had a fire going. She weren’t starvin’ neither. Someone had give her a case of tinned food.”

  A smidgen of hope flickered in Anne’s mind. Maybe if Pamela couldn’t or wouldn’t help, Vera would be OK. Someone else was looking out for her. She made to say something, but Mac held his hand to still her.

  “Well, me and this bloke ate a couple of cans of it and then got settled in by the fire. We decided we’d stay on at the house for a while.” He shook his head, remorse flashed over his face. “And we was a bit rude to the old girl, telling her to piss off an all. Turns out though, George was a bad un, real bad. The old lady, she just watched George real close, every move he made her eyes followed him. George and me shared some sherry and after he’d got nice and relaxed he told me he liked to cut women.”

  A small gasp escaped Anne’s lips and she fought to keep her hands from flying to her mouth. Whether Mac had noticed she couldn’t tell.

  “He told me he travelled the coasts and the inlands catchin’ ‘em and torturing ‘em, till he got sick of ‘em and finished ‘em off. Soon as he done one he’d take off and head in another direction, get into a new area. I thought he was having a lend of me at first, but then he talked about what he did. Ain’t no way you could make that shit up. And I won’t tell ya what he done. But he was proud of it. He had his own name - they called him the kiss killer. Sewed their mouth to a kiss shape so they couldn’t scream. The last one he did was a Harriet. He finished her off the day he caught the train with me.”

  Chapter Five


  Anne was now hugging her stomach with her arms. Hearing that Harriet was the victim of a serial killer unnerved her, but she tried not to show it. Maybe he was making it up just to scare her. She raised an enquiring brow.

  “You didn’t tell anyone?”

  “You wouldn’t neither if you lived through what I did.” He continued his story. “That old woman, Vera, whether you believe it or not - she can see ghosts, talks to ‘em an all.” Anne felt her hair follicles tingling and it shuddered down her body. “Well the girl George killed that – Harriet – her ghost attached to him and the old girl saw it and was talking to it, tellin’ it there were others in the house. George musta got the wind up him, he said he was gonna do Vera, even though she wasn’t his type.”

  Anne got up to leave, but sat right back down. Her mind was whirling. ‘Georgie Porgie puddin an pie kissed the girls and made ‘em die.’ Vomit was rising in Anne’s throat and her mind started swimming. She didn’t want to believe it. Mac had been up to the house, after-all, and Vera would have said those things to him, just like Vera had said them to her.

  “This is a terrible story, Mac. Are you trying to scare me? I’m not going to listen to any more.”

  Mac’s blue eyes looked up at her, so wide she could see the yellow streaks crossing the whites. It was the only time she had ever seen an imploring look in his eyes. For the first time since Anne had met him, Mac looked like a little boy, no guile or hardness showed on his face, only bafflement.

  “I swear to you, it’s true.” His voice sounded desperate “Let me tell someone before I die.” Anne hung her head and studied her shoes, she didn’t look at him, but let her wavy brown locks cover her eyes.

  “Go on then. Tell me.”

  “Well when he started talking like that, well I got scared like and I tried to change the subject, get his focus off Vera. I told him I got some weed and we should smoke it now.

  He said he wanted to do Vera first. And things went bat shit crazy. I never thought I’d walk outta there alive.”

  “What happened?” Anne studied Mac closely, looking for signs of deceit. Mac hesitated, his mouth opened and closed before he got the courage to begin again.

  “George got up and took a few steps toward Vera, but he didn’t make it. Something got a hold of him, I dunno what, but his arms flew right out to his sides. I mean, I thought it was strange that his arms flew out, but what do I know? The geezer’s a serial killer. Maybe it was his thing, a ritual like. But then he turned his head and looked at me. I could see he was in shock, he didn’t know what was going on. And he couldn’t move. Not on purpose anyway. Somehow, someway, his legs spread out

  and it was obvious he was trying to stop it from happening, but he couldn’t. And he was crying. He looked for me to help him.”

  Mac shook his head, his eyes wide in memory and he swallowed hard. The horror on his face began to convince Anne. He was either an excellent liar or he actually believed what he was saying.

  “But I couldn’t move. I was just stuck. And, I know, I mean I KNOW it sounds impossible but he levitated up above the floor, his arms and legs still stuck out wide.”

  Anne stood to leave, her face twisted and red.

  “This is a load of bollocks. What do you think? I’m a complete fool? You’ll be dining out on this all week.”

  “NO WAIT.” Mac pleaded, “I’m not lying.” His face was wild, panicked. Anne remained, but didn’t sit back down.

  “Look, he musta had his knife out, ready for the old girl, because it floated out of his hand. He really was gonna’ kill her. It was a switch blade long and curved with a bone handle. I’ll never forget it. It was a front opening one, looked custom made to me. When I saw that knife just floating in air, I didn’t think I could get more petrified.” Mac’s rounded eyes sought Anne’s as if almost asking for forgiveness. “I wanted to leave and take the old woman too. But I couldn’t get up, so I pushed myself as far back in the seat as I could, away from the knife. But it wasn’t coming for me. It just kept falling lower until it hovered in front of George and then it drove itself into his groin.” Mac had tears running down his face, he brushed them away with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry luv, I still have nightmares.”

  Anne was alarmed, this was an impossible story and she wondered if Mac was suffering hallucinations in addition to his PTSD. She softened her voice to avert any possible psychotic break.

  “It’s a terrible story, anyone would still be upset.”

  “Well, George screamed and screamed and the knife kept going, repeatedly stabbing him in the balls. But there wasn’t much blood.” Mac was openly weeping. “The blood seemed to soak his pants, but I remember thinking ‘why isn’t there more blood’. I don’t know why I was wondering that, but all the time George was screaming, then the knife fell on the floor and George fell on floor. I’ll never forget his face.” Mac wiped more tears away. “He kept saying help me, help me, but I still couldn’t move. Something grabbed a hold of George and he got dragged along the floor toward the fire place. The next thing I remember is hearing his screaming as his hair caught on fire and his face seemed to be pressed into the coals. At that point, I somehow came to my senses and I jumped up. The last thing I saw of him was that he was burning up in flames in the fire place. I ran to leave, I was gonna grab the old girl. You know, get her outta there. The couch flew through the air and struck the wall next to me as I ran. But Vera was saying something about Harriet being angry ‘cause George kissed her and that Harriet said I had to leave. I heard they found George’s body out on the road and they never figured out who killed him. Well that makes them and me both, unless it were that Harriet. Now you can believe me or not girl. I told ya. It’s on you now, if you go back up there.”

  Chapter Six

  Anne walked back to the office and picked up her car without going inside. What she needed to do could not been seen by anyone in the office. If Pamela got wind that she was researching the history of the house, she might be pulled off Vera’s case altogether.

  Driving home on auto pilot Anne puzzled over everything she knew. Mac had been up there at the house with Vera. He’d most likely heard the words before, the same as Anne had. It was more reasonable to assume he made the whole thing up - even if he believed it himself. But, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for at least for half an hour.

  Sitting in front of her computer, jelly babies in hand, Anne punched in the words ‘Kiss Killer.’ The results returned ‘Heavy Metal Punk.’

  She tried another search term ‘Serial Killer Kiss’. A grimace formed over her face as the first results populated the screen - ‘Bela Kiss’. This wasn’t her man, but oh humans are capable of the most depraved acts.

  Trying again, she punched in ‘serial kiss killer unsolved murders.’ Shivers ran over her body as the results populated.

  She clicked the first link.

  ‘Notorious murderer that police have named the ‘Kiss Killer’ struck again late last week in Surrey. The body of twenty-four-year-old Mavis Langley was discovered deep in the woods by a group of hikers. Police say this is the fourth victim that has fallen prey to a suspected serial killer. The deceased woman was found bound and gagged and has been missing for five days. It is thought she survived three days of torture suffering multiple knife wounds and rape. The calling card the killer leaves is to sew his victim’s mouth to the shape of a kiss.’

  Anne’s stomach heaved and before she could leave the seat, vomit surged into her throat. It was too late to make it to the toilet so she turned her head and avoided the keyboard. Sucking air in jagged gulps Anne made her way to the bathroom and pulled off her shirt to wash herself down. It was twenty minutes later, after cleaning up the mess and showering, that she sat down with a cup of tea, her head pounding.

  Was Vera safe up there? It seemed like Harriet, whoever she was, was looking out for her, but Vera did seem frightened. Anne got up and moved to her computer. Tentatively she punched in ‘Kiss Killer Harriet.’ There were
no results. ‘Missing woman Harriet’, no results. If Harriet were indeed a murder victim of George, her poor body was laying out there somewhere, most likely undiscovered. A thought crept in I should ask Vera to ask her. Anne shook her head in disbelief. Am I going crazy too?

  It was after 6 PM the next night when Anne knocked on Vera’s door. Pamela’s warning couldn’t be allowed to extend to her own time. And if it did well – stuff it – she was going to take care of Vera anyway. If she did what Pamela required and brought Pamela to the house with her, it would only upset Vera even more. And besides, it would be impossible to find out more about Harriet with anyone else there.

  If what Mac said was true, then Anne wanted to know where the body was. That would prove the story and give closure to poor Harriet’s family, assuming she had one, and maybe even to Harriet. Mac said that he and that serial killer came in from Hampshire so it would be in that region. Anne regarded herself with some degree of surprise, it was obvious that she was genuinely entertaining this whole ghost thing.

  Impatiently, Anne knocked on the door again. The little face usually peeking out from the window didn’t appear. Slightly worried, Anne turned the knob and walked inside, clutching tight to the burger that was Vera’s. Boo lay sleeping on Vera’s couch. His legs dangling over the edge. An empty booze bottle lay on the floor and now Anne noticed the stench of stale urine. Cigarette butts had burned scorch marks on the floor and Boo had a patch over one eye. Something Anne hadn’t noticed before. The man didn’t stir as Anne walked by him, searching for Vera.

  “Vera? Where are you? Its Anne.”

  Her stomach cramped up as a nasty thought entered her mind. Has he hurt her? The kitchen was in disarray. Cans of food had been eaten and now lay empty all over the place and the contents of the cupboards were strewn everywhere.