CHILD OF GLASS THE SEQUEL

CHILD OF GLASS THE SEQUEL It has been 20 years since my adventure, with the spirit of Inez DuMaine. I have grown up, and moved away from the family home, on the DuMaine estate, to live in a new city, and raise my own family. I felt compelled to move away from Jefferson County since no one would take the story, of Inez DuMaine, seriously. Not even my own maw and paw. For a number of months, Blossom and I had been under suspicion, for possibly stealing the diamonds, which the ghost, of Inez Dumaine, gave to us. Blossom and I remained under surveillance, for what seemed like "forever", as the sheriff tried to verify whom the diamonds actually belonged to. There was plenty of suspicion, that Blossom and I might have stolen the diamonds, either from a store, or from a private home. When the Jefferson County jewelry store confirmed that the diamonds were not their property, the police checked with local home-owners, all of whom denied having missing jewels. Blossom and I would, then, be held, at the county jail, while the sheriff, and his deputies searched the Jefferson County Cemetary. The police did an in-depth search of the cemetary. For some reason, I found that locals would have been more resentful if the jewels had been stolen from the deceased, than if the jewels had been stolen from the living. My paw, however, only let the sheriff keep me in lock-up until the end of the forth intensive search. After the sheriff's search teams searched the grave-yard, four times, my paw got hopping mad, and asked the sheriff why Blossom and I were, still, in custody, after no one reported any belongings stolen from grave-sites. When the sheriff said he was taking no chances, my paw did what any father would do. He organized a fifth, and final, search, of the grave-yard. My paw was clever, though in that he asked people who had kin buried in the grave-yard to help with the final search. Out of this final party, only one family tried to say that something was missing. My paw was about to investigate when another family cautioned that the people, making the claim, had been making accusations for nearly a century. Thats when paw remembered who the complainants were. Paws law firm had handled some of the complainants suits, over the years. The Eugenes had spent close to two centuries building up a family fortune which would have lasted for centuries to come. That is, until Alfred Eugene came into control of the family fortune. To say that Alfred was a "dreamer", or "visionary", would be far too kind. The man liked to gamble, pure and simple. In just a few years, Alfred was able to gamble away many decades of hard work, and savings. Eventually, Alfred was labelled as a "mental case". (What we, now, call, "Psychologically Un-Stable"). By the time Alfred was listed, and removed from "power", the family fortune had been gambled away, on horses, dogs, and so on. With less than a months worth of money left for them, the Eugenes, facing possible loss, of the family home, were rumored to have gone to the grave-yard, one night, and stripped their ancestors grave-stones of the precious jewels, themselves. The problem, for the police, was that all anyone had was rumor. D.N.A., and other testing, were, still, years away. Without clear evidence, or eye-witnesses, no charges could be filed. Sure, the Eugenes had filed vandalism complaints, but the sheriff was not convinced. Especially after the family, now supposedly penniless, paid off their property debts. Since that time, the Eugenes had been filing reports, and making accusations, of theft. This is why paw paid them little attention. Yes, the Eugene family grave- markers were missing some valuable pieces, but paw knew this to be an old story, told since before paw was born. No one knew for sure who had stolen the pieces, but there was suspicion. When the sheriff's first four search party's failed to show any recent damage, to the grave-yard, the sheriff was required, by my paw to release Blossom and myself. The sheriff, my paw, and others, just suggested that we forget all about that "ghost" story. The only "spirits", in Jefferson County were in whiskey bottles. Still, even though we were "cleared" of any wrong-doing, Blossom and I would be suspected, for some time to come. By the time I was in high school, I had done so much work, for, and with my paw, that I knew enough about the law to become an assistant in my paws law office. The pay wasn't great, but I learned much about the law. I guess this is why, by the time I graduated high school, I was able to apply for an internship, at my paw's firm. Boy, was Connie Sue fuming when I got the office job, while she ended up as a shop clerk, in a downtown store. While I was working my way through law school, Blossom went off, in search of her father, and I lost contact of her. I heard rumor, from time to time, but nothing more. I know it hurt my paw something terrible, when I took the job offer, in the other state, though, but the money was great. Over the coming years, I would become a successful attorney, in my own right. Still, it didn't hurt when courts remembered my paw. Over those following years, I would marry, and start a family, of my own. I often left my own children fascinated, by my tales of my childhood adventure, with the ghost. My children just had a hard time believeing that there were many types of ghosts, just as there were many types of people. They had a hard time with the concept, of friendly ghosts, since the only ghosts they had "seen" where the ghosts portrayed in the movies. The evil, demonic, ones, who set out to kill people. I had to admit that the old captain, Jacque Dumaine, might fall into the "bad" spirit category, if there was such a thing. Oh, well, like I told my own children, it had been many years ago and the ghosts were at rest. (I hoped) My hope to, one day, put Jefferson County behind me, for good, came to an abrupt end when my wife showed me the letter she had signed for, that day. I had a bad feeling about the letter from the moment I saw the return address: Jefferson County Courthouse On the inside, the letter was what I feared. It read: Dear sir, As the current holder of all ownership documents, regarding a property known as the Dumaine Estate, I, Keeper of Records, for Jefferson County, do ask you to come, at your earliest possible convenience, to the Jefferson County courthouse, to deal with a matter regarding property owned by your family. It is important that you come, as soon as possible. My wife agreed to check the letter out, while I was at work, the next day. The news was not good, though. I just wondered what could be so important that they wanted to see me in person? I knew, for a fact that, by the time my paw passed on, he made sure that he left my maw with a maintenance account, for the property, which would cover all conceivable expenses, for centuries to come. It couldn't be a money problem. It couldn't be my maw, either. Praise the lord, maw had gone to join paw, in the after life, years ago. I know because Connie Sue was away, and could not be reached, to deal with funeral arrangements. Still, I only had to sign the papers, since paw had reserved a place, for maw, right beside him, in the Jefferson County Cemetary. No, whatever this was, it was something different. When my wife sent word, to my office, I went to the firms head, and arranged to take some time off. I told them that I expected to be back, very soon. After all, it was the truth. I planned to come back, as soon as possible. Boy, how times had changed, and how travel had changed, with them. As my family and I packed our mini-van, for the trip, I thought back to the days when my family travelled about Jefferson County. Boy, how cramped that Ford LTD wagon had been, what with all four of us inside, as well as boxes, and so on. As for the trips, themselves, it seemed to take forever, especially since there were none of the modern rest stops along the highway. No, back in my parents day, a highway was just a road, nothing more. Since my maw would not hear of her family stopping by road-side, to relieve themselves, we had to leave the road, more than once, at small towns, to use the "water-closet". Funny thing was that it was never as hard leaving the highway, as it was, trying to find out where to get back on. I think we spent about 90 minutes, total, with exiting the highways, but we must have spent atleast three hours, trying to find the on-ramps. With all the twists and turns, I could see why, at each stop, paw fuelled up. I dont know how much gas we used just trying to get back to highways. For the modern trip, my kids would take their headphones, and listen to their music, while my wife and I drove the miles. Nowadays, with the invent of the highway rest-stops, motorists could pull along a four hundred foot entry lane, and drive right up to the refreshment center. I just wonder what my maw, with her cold cuts, and picnic basket, would have thought of frozen pizza, and microwave ovens. I ran a timer, a couple of times, to see if we made better time, with the road-side stops. Sure enough, we cut more than 2/3's off of our trip time, just staying on the highway. Sure, by the time we reached Jefferson County, we were, all, stiff, but thats what travel does to a person. We stopped, outside of town, to refresh ourselves, before going into town. After a twenty minute stop, at the county line, I decided to take my family past my parents old place, so they could see where I spent my teen years. To say that I was "disappointed", at what I saw, would be a terrible understatement. From the first moment, when I saw the estate, from the entry point, next to that stone marker, engraved "Dumaine Estate", I was shocked to see that the lawn was over-grown, and that the weeds were back. As we drove to the main house, I saw nothing but neglect as we drove past yards of un-kept grass. Even those prize gardens, my maw had planted, in the years after my ghostly adventure, had gone to seed. I was about to wonder if the gardener had gone on strike when I saw the once lavish house, which my maw had loved so much. I couldn't believe it. Those lamp fixtures, which I had spent years polishing, to a high shine, were, again, filthy, with dust and dirt. The stone facade, of the house, which my maw spent a small fortune restoring to its shining, original, look, was dirty, and dull, again. When I pulled to a stop, before the front door, and my family wanted to get out of the van, I told them to stay inside the van. Something wasn't right, and I was getting a terrible feeling that it wasn't a labor dispute, after all. I, alone, approached the front door, wondering what I would find inside. My senses went on "full alert" when I noticed that even the front steps had not been cleaned, in a "coons age". The dust, dirt, and leaves, were piling up, on the restored wood surfaces. The front door was equally suspicious since, during my maw's time, the decorative hing had been kept well oiled, to allow maw to open, and close it, easily. It still opened, without too much effort, but the hing now groaned, with need for oil. It was not until I was inside, though, that something happened, which brought back childhood nightmares, as if it had been last night. The entire entry hall was not only dusty, and un-kept, but there was a very potent stench of alcohol, all over the place. It was as if some drunk had just left the house, after a heavy bout, with the bottle. The problem was that, aside from my own steps, there was no sign that anyone had been here, in a "coon's age". I dont know why but, as I stood there, I had a memory flash, of the day, at Blossoms aunt's place, when I had sat before that crystal ball, and watched Old Man Dumaine curse his little neice into limbo. In a moment, of total clarity, I remembered his face, and his swagger. Signs of his drunkenness. It was at that moment that something brought me back, to the here and now, and I realized that there was real danger, in this place. When I retreated to my van, and my wife asked, I told her that I wanted to make another stop, before heading into town. She agreed, while asking what was wrong. When I told her that I wasn't sure, as yet, she just followed my lead. At the old caretakers place, near the edge of the property, I dont know what I expected to see, but it was not what I found. To my surprise, I found the place had been abandoned, for quite some time. Now, I was wondering what had happened. I wanted to think that the caretaker had been swindling the estate, for months, collecting pay for work not done. I just had a hard time believeing what I was seeing. After the caretakers cottage, we drove to the town hall, to meet with the Recorder of Deeds. I was curious to know what steps I could take, to get my parents money back, from the caretaker. After all, taking money, for work not done, was fraud. When we arrived, though, I was asked to send the kids out, for some snacks, or whatever they wanted. The Recorder said that the sherriff wanted to see me. Why, I had no idea. It was in the sheriff's office that my wife and I learned a version of what was going on, at the estate. What my wife heard made her wonder if there was, in fact, any truth to the stories I told our children, at bed-time. The sheriff spoke of "incidents", at the old house, and workers being scared away by someone the workers described as "an old, white, guy, with weird clothes, and a funny accent". On the grounds, this man messed with tools, and supplies, while, inside the house, he was much worse. INSIDE the house, the man was known to grab workers, and shake them, while asking about some jewels. Aside from his appearance, inside workers noted that the man smelled of spirits. The odd thing was that, when the liqour cabinet was checked, not one bottle was missing, or partially consumed. More recently, though, the intruder had gotten more physical, with the workers, including the old caretaker. The caretaker reported to the police that the man had appearred, as if out of nowhere, grabbed the poor woman, and shook her, violently, while shouting something about diamonds, in her face. When the intruder released the caretaker, and entered the den, the caretaker was in the process of calling in the police when she said she heard something smashing, in the den. The police chief said that, before the line was cut off, the operator thought they heard someone speaking French. When the police arrived, and searched the place, the chief said that he found the broken glass, of the den windows, and some empty liquor bottles. The bizzarre thing was that, when dusted, the bottles showed no finger-prints. When I asked if the intruder had mentioned any names, the sheriff said "Sure did. Nearly shouted it in the poor caretakers face, while demanding his property. Claimed his name was Captain Jacque Dumaine!" When I questioned this, the police chief said "I dont know who he, really is, or why he chose that name, but every assault report says that the attacker went by the name Jacque Dumaine. Either he is just covering his tracks, or he thinks he IS the old man." The next report was even more bizzarre, as the Sheriff reported that, one night, while out on patrol, he was near the DuMaine place when a group of kids came running past his squad car, saying there was some madman at the DuMaine place, firing a rifle at them. The sheriff said he might have discounted the story, except that he thought he heard another rifle shot, and some strange words, himself. As a result, he sent the kids home, then verified that the estate was empty. with that, he pulled his patrol car across the drive, and called for back-up. If anyone was using fire-arms, the sheriff wanted to know who, and why. When his deputies arrived, they surrounded the house, and searched the grounds, while their patrol cars were used to keep the drive blocked. What the sheriff found un-explainable was when he checked the old gun cabinet. All of the guns looked relatively clean, from years of previous polishing, and lack of use, but the smell, of burnt gun-power, drew him to a particular rifle. The sheriff said it was weird but that the rifle looked clean, yet the barrel smelled, heavily, of gun-powder. When finger-printed, the only partials found were of the local gun-smith, who cared for the rifles, while my parents had been alive. The prints were not the sheriff's primary concern, though. What he wanted to know was how a peron could use a rifle, clean it, yet leave it smelling of gun-powder? When I asked about swearing out a warrant, against the caretaker, for accepting payment for services which she was not rendering, the sherriff asked me to be patient for a moment. When the sheriff gestured the Records clerk into the room, the clerk came in, and gave a report, which I would not have believed had I not heard it, myself. According to the clerk, after the last assault, the caretaker went back to her cottage, and wrote a brief note of resignation. She, then, left the cottage, and did not return to the estate. What interested me, though was that the clerk maintained that the woman had never come in, even for her final check. When I asked, I was told that she had moved into town, and taken another job. Well, after hearing all of this, I decided to visit the company which my paw had retained, to take care of the house. Boy, was I surprised at the cool reception, which I got, from the workers. When I checked with the current owner (son of the man my paw had hired), the man said that there was not enough money, in the world, to make his workers go back to the Dumaine Estate. Not while that crazy lunatic was around. After this, I took my family to the towns main hotel, and got a suite for them to stay in. My plan was to go back to the estate, on my own, and try to figure out what was going on. My son, though, raised such a fuss that I agreed to take him along, after promising her mother that, at the first sign of trouble, I would get the boy out of the way. As a result, my son and I drove back to the house, silent as church mice. As we pulled up, though, my son noticed lights on, in some of the windows. I had no idea that the power was on so we drove up, without headlights, hoping to catch anyone who might be on the grounds. After pulling up, short of the house, I had my son stay in the van while I peeked into some of the windows. To me, it was odd, not seeing a living soul inside of the house. Especially after all those years, in which my maw spent lavish money on those catillions, and those god-awful costumes, which maw made me wear. Yes, my maw had spent years becoming the primary "hostess", in Jefferson County. Her catillions were pure poetry, in motion, and she had the house so well decorated that it was the pride of the county. I am sure that the parties cost my paw a forune, and then some, but my maw was no fool, in regards to spending money. Her parties always seemed to draw more than enough business, to my paws firm, to more than cover the costs of the occassions. I guess that this is why, when I left home, I came to miss the noise. Coming back to the present, it was only as I walked to the front door that my son joined me. It seems that he didn't want to be "alone", either. As soon as we stepped inside the door, though, there was that stench of booze, as if someone had been in here not minutes before. The stench was everywhere, and, as I entered the house, I realized I remembered that stench. It was from the old captain, when I had seen him, in the crystal ball. Since he was long dead, though, I thought that, perhaps, there was another, living, prowler, in the house. As I pondered this, then came something else. A small, delicate, voice. A voice I had not heard, in decades. There it was, calling "A-lex-an-der", and "come quickly". When I wondered about the old well, the voice whispered "Crypt". Wonderful, I thought, the very place where Blossom and I nearly met our maker, at the hands of a drunken Emory Timmons. Still, the voice seemed urgent, so off we went. What I did not know, until later, was that Jefferson County now had two cemetaries. The "old" one, where my parents, and the Dumaines, were buried, and a new one. It would seem that the community grew large enough that it grew up right around the old cemetary. This is why a new place was created, far outside of town. To me, it was just odd seeing homes bordering a place for dead people. When my son and I arrived, at the cemetary, I found it bizzarre that the young man would look at the place, and say "Cool". What was the fascination, that teenagers have, with cemetaries? I made my first stop at my parents graves, to show my son where his grand-parents were buried. His "interest" seemed muted, at best. Still, I knelt efore their graves, for a moment, before pressing on. As for the Dumaine crypt, I was surprised to see that it had a shiny, new, lock on it, which I did not have a key to. When the lock seemed to open itself, my son said "cool", while I was suspicious. When we entered the tomb, I told my son "Touch nothing", as even I was afraid of ancient traps. I made the boy stay behind me, in case I slipped on a trap. Once inside the crypt, I dont know what my son expected but, when all he saw were old things, covered in layers of dust, he sounded overtly disappointed. His only moment, of interest, seemed to be when he asked me which of the coffins was Inez's. When I found her coffin, I touched it, with deepest respect. I had just whispered, to myself, "Atleast she is at peace", when both of us heard the voice, this time, as it called out "Al-ex-an-der". When my son asked "Dad, what was that?", I thought it humorous that a boy, who loved horror films, could be scared by a mere ghost voice. When I called out, to the room, "Inez, I am here.", I would have given a years pay for a photo of my sons face, as Inez appearred, as a blob of energy, then solidified into human form. My son had my arm in a "death grip" as he stared, wide-eyed, in fear, at this harmless spirit. There stood the child-spirit, of Inez Dumaine, looking just as young, and innocent, as ever. Stilll wearing the dress she had died in. When Inez asked me "Alexander, who is that, with you?" I told her that it was my son. When she said "Missure, I did not know that you had a son. You did not mention this, when last we met". I had to explain "Inez, it has been many years, since we last spoke. I have a wife, and two children" When Inez seemed hurt by this, I asked her "Why have you called me here?" "The Jewels" Inez replied. "What about them?" I asked. "Do you retain them?" "Yes" "Then, you must return them to me, toot-suite" "Why?" "It is most important" "But, you gave the jewels to Blossom and I. We thought they were a gift" "Please, missure. No time for questions" "Well, if I am going to give back a gift, I would atleast like to know the reason why." "Very well, missure. The jewels my mamaw gave to me were very special." "I agree. I found out that the jewels are worth a fortune." "No, no, missure. It is not their wealth which is important." "Then, what?" "The jewels hold a very special power." "What power?" "The power to release evil things from a very bad place." "You mean, like monsters, from an under-world?" "Something like that. All that I know is that, if Uncle Jacque gets the jewels before we do, then he will have the power to do terrible things" "But, I thought we resolved this, twenty years ago." "We, missure, you DID lift the curse, and I am most greatful for this. You helped me reach my mamaw, and papaw. For this, I can, never, thank you enough." "So, why did you come back?" "My parents, they agreed that it would be best to send someone they knew you would be comfortable with." "I can offer no more explainantion, What I need is for you to return the jewels to me. Will you do it?" "Ofcourse, but what are the jewels for?" "The jewels hold the power to open a special door. The jewels are the "key." When I asked "What door?" and "Where?", Inez said that mortals cannot find the door. Only spirits have the ability to find the door. This brought me back to the crystal ball image, of the deep past, and this is when a thought came to my modern mind. If the captain were, still, alive, when he tried to scare Inez into giving up the jewels, then how did he intend to FIND, let alone open, the door? When I posed this question to Inez, she said "Uncle Jacque was prepared to raise a spirit from the dead. Uncle Jacques plan would be to force the spirit to find the door, FOR Uncle Jacque. Now that Uncle Jacque is a spirit, himself, he no-longer needs help. All that he requires, now, is the jewels." This is when I asked "So, how scary can it be? Open a door, and let some scary stuff out." To this, Inez was adamant. "If Uncle Jacque is able to open the door, evil will consume your world. All that you know will be destroyed." When I agreed to bring back the jewels, I told her that it would be a few days, atleast, she said "Oh, no, missure. It must be done, toot-suite". I told her that I could send for the jewels, by e-mail, but, even then, transport would take awhile. This is when Inez pleaded "Oh, no, missure. There is no time for this", I asked "Whats the rush? You just said that the door cannot be opened, without the jewels." Inez said "You dont understand, missure. Uncle Jacque is moving about, in YOUR world. He can harm anyone he chooses. This is why we must act so soon." After giving Inez my word, once more, I took my silent son by the hand, promising to keep Inez informed, of all developments, then my son and I raced out of the crypt. We were just out of sight when Inez felt a presense, then saw her Uncle Jacque fade into view. His face, a mask of anger as he scowled at his neice. Inez saw him look on, at our retreat, so Inez waited until we were completely away, before she bowed her head, then dissolved. She did this only once she knew that my son and I were safelly away, and out of danger,for the moment, anyway. Suddenly, Jacque Dumaine smiled a fiendish smile, then dissolved. The next day, with a call to my firm, I confirmed that the arrangements, to transport the jewels, were underway, and my family and I went to the local store, bought some cleaning supplies, then went on, to the Dumaine Estate, which my parents had loved so well. Upon our arrival, at the main house, I made certain to be the first to enter the house (Just in case SOMEONE, or worse, someTHING, was lying in wait.) Good thing I did this since the whole house still smelled thickly of whiskey. Personally, I would not have been as concerned, if the smell had been "old and dusty", since this would have indicated that the smell had been around, for an extended period of time. Weeks, months, or even longer, of exposure to the elements, to produce a smell. This, we could clean up, in moments. What I smelled, though, was so fresh that I knew the house had been "occupied" rather recently. I looked this way, and that, several times, as I moved throughout the house, and I even looked behind myself, a few times, just to make sure that no one was following ME. When I confirmed that the house was, in fact, "empty", I began opening the windows up, to let the bayou breeze rid the house of the liquor scent. After that, I returned to the van, and invited my family inside of the house. Before they actually ENTERED the house, though, I reported what I had found, and requested that each person be careful. Atleast until we could be certain of just who our un-welcome "guests" were, and just how they were, continually, gaining access to the house. Now, THERE was a riddle worthy of this fine place, and far less cryptic than the one which I had to solve decades before, for Inez. By mutual agreement, with my wife, the whole family agreed to work on the upstairs, together. My wife figured that there should be safety in numbers. (What I didn't tell her was that this rule applied only to the living). I was just taking my wife another bottle of cleaner when she looked at, or was it past, me, in shock. When she pointed past me, I looked around, and there was the old captain, still wearing the outfit I had, first, seen, when I viewed him in the crystal ball. For a second, I actually, stopped to wonder. COULD ghosts CHANGE their clothes? When the captain saw my lack of surprise, his voice went very deep, for a moment, as he asked "You are not surprised to see me, missure? Have we met, before?" When I said "Not really, captain. I only saw you once before. In a crystal ball." When he asked "Ma-sheek?", I said "magic". His deep voice almost shook the walls, as my family looked on, as I spoke to what appearred to be a ghost. When he asked "Does missure know me, then?", I said "Yes, captain. Your name is Jacque Dumaine, and you CAUSED the death of your own neice. One Inez Dumaine. And all for some lousy jewels. You placed a curse upon your innocent neices head, then drove her, in blind fear, to her death". Although I had seen him only once, before, in my life, this second sighting was twice more than I would have liked. For a moment, he seemed just as baffled as my family was. All of them, ghost included, wondered HOW I could know so much about a person I had never met (alive, that is). After an off-balance moment, though, the old captain recovered himself, and insisted that "the kids" death had been pure accident. After this, however, he grabbed me by the collar, and shouted in my face "Where are THE jewels, NOW, missure?" Just then, my son threw something at the seemingly solid old captain, yet it sailed right through the ghost, as if he were not even there. When the captain saw what had happened, he let go of my collar, and said "Well, we have a feisty one here, do we not?" Just seconds later, through a horse voice, I barked "RUN!". Sure enough, though, as the ghost tried to give chase, I grabbed at the ghosts visible ankles, and, surprisingly, he went down. This is when I warned the old man "Harm my family, and you will never see those jewels". While my family watched, the old man growled "We shall see, missure", then the old man vanished. When my wife asked "Was that really...?" I said "Yes, it was". When she asked "Is he really...?" I said "Yes, he is" After that, the whole house seemed to gradually fill with a low, but growing, laugh, as we dropped or cleaning supplies, and ran for the van. The laugh seemed to follow us, even as I hit the gas, and the van sped away from the house. It may sound odd but the laughter stopped, abruptly, the very second that we were off of the property. We thought we were safe, but what even I did NOT know was what the old captain had in mind. When we returned to the hotel, I sent my family up to our suite, while I checked with the desk, for messages. As it turns out, there was a message, from the sheriff. While I drove over, to meet with the sheriff, my wife was left frozen in shock, as Captain Dumaine suddenly appearred, in our suite, and held my family in a "freeze-frame" trance, while he bound, and gagged, them. The captain then whispered into my wifes ear "Mamammoiselle, NOW, we shall find out how much your hoosband really cares for you. It will be easy. In return for zee jewwells, you may be set free. You would like this, no?" By the time that the captain was making his intent clear, to my family, I had returned to the sheriff's office, where I received even more bad news. The sheriff told me: "Sir, I have bad news. The delivery service just reported the theft of your package, from the processing center." When I asked, the sheriff said: "We KNOW who committed the theft. He left behind a ransom demand." When I asked: "He, who?" The sheriff said "Anthony Timmons." When I said: "You dont mean..." The sheriff said "Yes, I mean the son of Emory Timmons. The man who tried to burn your family out of the old Dumaine Estate, after your father fired him. It seems that Emory became a butt, of many jokes, especially after telling my deputies that GHOSTS were out to get him." When I asked "What happened to Mr. Timmons?" The sheriff said "At his trial, Emory said that your father tried to frame him, by saying that Emory was a drunk. Emory might have been believed, by some, if no one had smelled the booze on his breath, upon his arrest. For legal reasons, I ran the drunk test, before locking him up, for the sake of the court appearance. Turns out that Emory was so drunk that even the judge could not give creedance to his GHOST story. The judge ordered Emory into detox, then drew a huge laugh, from the gallery when, in court, the judge promised Emory that the "spirits" would leave him alone, once he was finished with detox." The sheriff then added "No one knows for sure, but Emory left town, was declared "missing", for awhile, then his body washed up on the bank, down yonder, along the river. Emory Timmons is, now, buried in a paupers grave 'bout a hundred miles from here." When I asked "You mentioned that he had a son?" The sheriff said "Yes, while you was a yung 'un, living with your folks, Emory had a wife, who wouldn't let him come near her, or their son. Bad situation. Still, she was better off, without him. As for their son, Anthony, he defended his father's memory, for many years. Even went to jail, a couple of times, for fighting with his fathers detracters, and took work release. He has been employed, since that time, with the package service. No one thought anything of his relationship to you, atleast not until your package was stolen from the processing center. It was not until the plant supervisor found the note, about you, and his father, that the plant called us, to investigate." When I asked about the note, the sheriff handed me a faxed copy, on which Anthony was very direct in saying "Alexander's father (bad mouthed) my father, and destroyed my fathers reputation. If Alexander wants his package, then I want a detailed, written, statement, signed by Alexander, apologizing for ruining my fathers life." When I asked "What do you know, about Anthony Timmons?" The sheriff said "I sent my deputies 'round to his place. They should be reportin' in, any minute." Sure enough, a moment later, the office radio came to life, saying "Sheriff, this is Deputy Aimes. I'm here at Anthony's place. No sign of him, nowhere, and the place is locked up, real tight." When the Sheriff asked "What about his maw?" Deputy Aimes reported "We stopped by her place, on the way over here, just in case he stopped by. His maw says she aint seen him, in weeks." "Alright" The sheriff said "Come on back in and we'll put out an A.P.B. on him." The sheriff then told me to go on back to the hotel. No sense hanging round the station house until Anthony made his next move. I had just agreed when the sheriff asked "Dont go back to the Dumaine place, just yet". When I asked his reason, hoping that I had not just been found out, the sheriff added "No one, round these parts, will go past the front gates. Even my own deputies wont. If you go to the estate, there are no phones hooked up." When I showed him my mobile phone, the sheriff said "Wont work round these parts. None of them fancy towers round here, as yet. Them big phone companies have been yacking about buildin them for five, maybe ten, years. Round here, folks use regula phones, or just go visitin. Thats why I ask you to keep your family at the town hotel." When I agreed to stay in town, I returned to the hotel, where I was more than a little surprised to find my family tied up. As I tried to free them, though, my wife looked over my shoulder, again, and I had a feeling of who was behind me. This is when that menacing voice asked "Where's my jewels?" At that moment, I knew the voice, and realized that its owner had tricked me. The old captain was no more bound, to the old estate than any flesh-and-blood human was. I tried to tell him what had happened, but he just wouldn't listen. He, then, told me to get the jewels, or my family would "pay". As I left the hotel, I thought about going back to the sheriff, but I had to wonder 'What would I say?' "Oh, pardon me, sheriff. Do you have any fire-arms which can kill a ghost, which is, already, dead?" Even if I DID tell the sheriff, what would happen if we went back to the hotel, only to find the captain gone? More than likely, I would be arrested, for trying to fake a kidnapping. Just then, I considered getting a bite to eat, but only until I saw a memory flash, with my wife, and children, tied to those chairs. With that, all thought of my stomach, evaporated. That is when I decided to return to the Dumaine Estate, and have a face-to- face with the old captain. After all, the worst he could do was kill me. This is why, with iron determination, I drove toward the Dumaine Estate. I think that I was about a mile, or so, from the estate when I was blinded by the ultra-bright lights, from a truck, coming up, fast, behind me. The lights were so bright that I couldn't even see the road, in front of me. This is why I missed the turn, and drove into the ditch. I can only guess that I passed out, since I do not remember leaving the van. All that I DO know is that, when I awakened, I, too, was tied to a chair, but it was not the old captain, whom I was facing. It was a much younger version of the late Emory Timmons. I have to hand it to Anthony, though. He was as direct as could be. If I wanted to live, to see my family, again, I would sign his prepared document, condemning my own father, while, basically, putting HIS father up, for sainthood. Not likely, though since the whole county knew that Emory Timmons was a drunk. Then, or now, I would challenge anyone to find me a person, in Jefferson County who had NOT known Emory Timmons. I did not argue the point, but signed the page, knowing that my family needed me. For Anthony, though, this was not enough. He scavenged my wallet, for the notary fee, which would make the document legally binding. Anthony then sent a runner off, on his errand, then returned to me, and snarled "Now, we wait. When my helper returns, I will decide how to deal with YOU." ( The only flaw, in Anthony's plan, was that someone would place a call, to the sheriff's office, after finding my van in the ditch. Then, there was the courthouse where, when the messenger arrived, with a multi-page document, seemingly addressed by Anthony, and bearing my signature, the County Clerk called in an assistant, to review the document, then told the runner that it would be a few minutes. That the notary was on an errand, and would be back, soon. To me, though, whereever Anthony had me, it would seem like days had passed, not hours, before we got any word.) What Anthony did NOT know was that his court-house messenger had been arrested, for trying to file the document. With the greatest of secrecy, the sheriff had rounded up each of Anthony's messengers, who, as it turns out, had no idea of what was going on. The sheriff then rounded up some volunteer deputies, to surround the place where someone told the police they had seen Anthony's truck parked. By the time Anthony ran out of patience, and decided to tell me where, how, and so on, of where he was going to cut me, the police broke in, from all directions, and Anthony was arrested for kidnapping, among other charges. Grabbing my package off of a nearby table, I begged one of the volunteers to drive to the Dumaine Estate. If they would drop me, at the front gate, I could RUN to the main house. At the main house, I stepped inside the door, and into the main hall. Here, I found a door panel ajar, in a section of wall which I had, always, thought was a solid wall. Beyond the panel, I found a flight of stairs, which I never knew existed. With no other options, I followed the steps down to an ancient cave, where Jacque Dumaine stood, proudly, near an ominous-looking door. When Inez appearred, saying I must NOT give the jewels to her uncle, I told her that I had no choice. The captain was holding my family hostage. This is why I turned the jewels over to the captain. Not out of fear for my own life, but out of fear for my family's safety. When I handed the jewels over, the captain took them, without a word, and placed each jewel into a precisely carved series of slots, around the right edge of a most unusual design. As he did so, I asked about my family, and all the captain would say was that we were all about to get what was coming to us. Once the last of the jewels was set into the slots, the jewels began to glow. Softly, at first, then more brilliantly. It took a few minutes, but, eventually, the jewels were lit up like lights, on a Christmas tree. As the colored, jewel, "lights" became amazingly bright, a verticle shaft, of light, appearred, in the center of the door. At first, it was no larger than a toothpick, but, soon, it extended to the top, and bottom, of the door. As the shaft of light grew broader, twin shafts appearred, one at the left door edge, and the other at the right edge. When the shafts were, all, equally, bright, the "door" opened, in two sections. This was accompanied by a growling sound (OR, was it just a door squeak, amplified by my imagination?) At that moment in time, I could not be sure of anything. As the door opened wider, a gust of wind blew Inez and I back, while the captain stood his ground, as if in triumph, before the expanding opening. Holding close to the cave walls, Inez and I managed to reach the side of the door frame, but, even as we reached it, neither my adult strength, nor Inez's ghostly skills, were any match for the power's of whatever was beyond that door. At a loss for idea's, I was about ready to give up when I heard a sound, which was carried on that powerful wind. The sound was impossible to describe, since I had never heard its like, before. What I DO know is that the sound chilled me to the bone. I dont know how, or even WHY, I didn't think of it, before. For some reason, the sound reminded me of the unusual "design" which the captain had inserted the jewels into. In a flash, I thought: 'If the jewels could open the door, by being inserted into that design, then what would happen if the jewels were REMOVED? Working our way around the "door", and not wanting to know what was inside, Inez and I reached the jewelled "design". I doubted that the captain even saw us since he was bathed in the bright light, from beyond the door. With an effort which made my every muscle ache, Inez and I began prying the jewels out of the "design". As the jewels gave way, one-by-one, the remaining jewels grew dimmer, by the moment, even as I saw what looked like whispy "tenticles" wrapped around Captain Dumaine, and the captain let out a sound of his own. I just wondered if it was a shout, of fear, or of triumph. All I know is that, as Inez and I removed the last of the jewels, from the design, the door began to close, even as the captain was pulled inside. Once the "door" was closed, again, the last two jewels went dark, and were much easier to lift out of the "design". (What I did not know was that, at the moment when the captain was "consumed", by the forces beyond the door, my family's binds, and gags, fell away, right in the presence of a very confused deputy.) This, even as I collected the jewels into a sack. I can only guess that I was more concerned with my family's welfare, than I was, with watching where I was going since the tunnel I travelled seemed to take a different direction. Instead of leading back to the Great Hall, I ended up following a passageway, which had "peep-hole's" on each of the rooms in the house, including the bedrooms. I could only wonder how Connie Sue would have reacted had she known about the "peep-holes", which would allow a view into her room. This, especially when, during her later teens, she had insisted upon having a lock on her bedroom door. Finally, I found the "exit" panel, but it was weird. Although the tunnel felt damp, and clammy, the house, itself, felt dry and dreary. After going to the local garage, to claim my van, I drove to the hotel, to tell my family that the old captain was, finally, gone. Only AFTER I had promised my wife that I had SEEN him, vanish, did we return to the old place, where my teens and I cleaned the place, once again, while my wife took over the task of securing a new care-taker. To secure a new worker, my wife and I even included a written statement, that the captains ghost was GONE. After this, we made a daylight visit, to the cemetary, where we found my parents graves, well-maintained. After our teens returned to the mini-van, my wife and I stayed, for a moment of silence. As we stood there, though, I could have sworn that I heard a voice call "A-lex-an-der". Thank you for everything, missure". I am fairly sure that my wife heard it, as well, since she hurried me back to the mini-van. Just before I stepped into the van, behind the wheel, though, I looked between a pair of nearby head-stones, and I thought that I saw Blossom standing there. When I took a second look, though, there was no one there. OR was there?