Perry Mason

The Case of the Spiteful Spirit

By Lucky_Ladybug

Notes: The characters are not mine and the story is! This is my Halloween story for 2013, again a challenge for the October Writing community on Livejournal, but I've had the idea for a very long time. It's a direct sequel to the season 5 episode The Meddling Medium, and will make more sense if you're familiar with that. Also involved is Hamilton's friend Mignon Germaine from season 8's The Fatal Fetish and one of Hamilton's deputies from season 4, Mr. Sampson—one of the only recurring ones. He appears in The Loquacious Liar, The Red Riding Boots, and The Envious Editor. The story takes place during the season 5 era, so Andy is still relatively new, David is still around, and the main events of my timeline have not happened yet. There are a couple of stray references to a modern-day setting, but I don't feel they detract from anything.

It had not been that long since Perry had successfully defended Bonnie Craig against the charge of murdering her fraudulent cousin Philip—and proven that she had ESP in the process. He had hoped that everything was going well for the family now, or at least, as well as could be expected. He became busy with several cases soon after that and didn't hear anything from them for some time. But, oddly and appropriately enough, one stormy October evening close to Halloween, Bonnie called him at the office.

"Hello, Bonnie," he greeted. "How goes the ESP?"

But Bonnie wasn't in any mood to joke. "Oh, Perry, something's happened," she exclaimed. "Do you remember that metal box I was looking for the night Philip was killed?"

"Why, yes," Perry said in surprise. "What's wrong, Bonnie?"

"Several things," she told him. "It's all much too complicated to explain over the phone. But Philip's wife found the box and came right over to show us what was in it. And Perry . . . it's horrible! Can you and Della come over?"

"Of course," Perry assured her, glancing to where Della was curiously looking up from her notepad. "We'll be right there."

Della was already getting up as he hung up the phone. "Trouble?" she deduced.

He nodded. "I'm not sure what," he frowned, "but Bonnie is very upset. Let's go." He headed for the door, grabbing up his heavy trenchcoat and hat along the way.

Della quickly followed suit.

xxxx

The family was all gathered in the living room by the time Perry and Della arrived. Bonnie was sitting at the table where she had fallen into a trance, staring at a small notebook with a sickened expression. Her husband Michael was standing next to her, his expression grim.

"Alright, now what's the trouble here?" Perry demanded after pleasantries had been exchanged with everyone.

Mrs. Paisley looked up at him, her expression somehow smug and upset at the same time. "Just have a look at what Cousin Bonnie's reading, Mr. Mason," she said. "I found it in Philip's box today. I hadn't had the heart to look at it until now, but boy, was I glad I finally got around to it."

Mrs. Walker was standing up, the only one who didn't seem distressed. "Well, Philip was a fraud, of course, as we all know," she said. "He started that ghastly plot when he wanted to move in and start blackmailing poor Bonnie and Michael. But, Mr. Mason, he didn't remain a fraud."

Della stared.

"Mrs. Walker, are you trying to say that Philip actually made contact with the other side?" Perry frowned in disbelief.

Bonnie stood and walked over, handing Perry the notebook. "Read this entry," she said quietly.

Perry accepted the notebook and frowned, studying the shakily scrawled page.

"'There was another performance tonight. I did just as I've been doing for the past several months, pretending to slip into a trance and bringing my poor grieved aunt news from her precious Thomas Leslie Walker. I came out of it, she read it, and was convinced of its truth. Just like always. Only . . . I don't remember any of what happened! Oh, God, I don't remember. Why don't I remember?!'"

Perry frowned more, glancing over several other pages until he found the next one concerning a trance.

"'It happened again. I went into a trance, wrote something, and came out of it, all without remembering a single word. I'd had it all planned out what I was going to say, but the paper Aunt Sylvia held up didn't have one word of it! It was completely foreign to me. What's going on?!'"

Perry had to squint hard to decipher the next entry; it was scribbled more unintelligibly than the others. Philip had probably been drunk when he wrote it.

"'I went into a trance here in my room and wrote something. When I came out of it, I had a piece of paper that said, 'I don't appreciate what you're doing to my mother.' I tore it up and burned it. Then it happened again. This time it said, 'Get out of this house.' Again I tore it up and burned it. A third time it happened. It said, 'You spoke for me in the past. Now, if you will not leave, I will speak for you for the rest of your life.'

"'What madness have I fallen into? Have I become so wrapped up in playing the part of Thomas that I'm writing these things without knowing it? Or is the occult, something I've always scoffed at, real and I've attracted the attention of the real Thomas Leslie Walker?

"'I can't quit now and expose myself as a fraud. But . . . am I even a fraud anymore?'"

The next entry was only one line. "'Thomas is here. He's here, right here, right now.'"

Perry flipped through the remainder of the pages. Each entry seemed to grow steadily more unhinged, until by the last one Philip sounded as though he were in the utter throes of madness.

"'They called me a fraud! They still call me a fraud. They don't believe in me or my abilities. They can't even recognize the real thing when it's staring them in the face! For the last several weeks I have been channeling Thomas Leslie Walker for real.

"'I can't take it anymore! This has to stop. I'm sick and tired of being called on to perform this blasted automatic writing. I don't want to know what he's going to say next. I have to get out of this insane house.

"'But . . . even if I do, will Thomas Leslie Walker leave me in peace? Or, now that I've summoned him, will he follow me everywhere and haunt everything I say and do? Is there no freedom from the dead? What madness have I unleashed?'"

Perry closed the notebook, setting it on the desk. "You realize, of course, that Philip may very well have been drunk when he wrote these things," he said. "They might have only been his perception of what was happening, without actually being what was happening."

"I know, Perry," Bonnie agreed in distress. "But remember I said that several things were going wrong? This notebook is only part of it."

"Alright, then, what's the other part of it?" Perry returned.

"Strange things have been happening in this house ever since I was acquitted for Philip's murder," Bonnie said.

"Even I have to admit it's unusual," Michael said. "Oh, there's surely some logical explanation, but after several months we still haven't been able to find it."

"You should both know better by now," Mrs. Walker declared. "The most logical explanation is the one you still steadfastly try to overlook."

She turned to Perry. "Mr. Mason, I know what's happening here. The dead do not rest in this house. The spirits of both my dear son Thomas and my nephew Philip are roaming these halls!"

xxxx

Both Perry and Della were stunned by Mrs. Walker's announcement. And as they listened to the details of what had been happening in the house, they had to admit it was eerie.

"I keep Thomas and Philip's door shut and locked," Mrs. Walker said. "Oh, I realize that the horrible deaths that happened weren't related to the occult or evil spirits, but it still feels like that room is cursed after so much has happened. I don't want anyone to use it again. But every morning, one of us finds the door stretched wide open."

"The elevator is always boarded up," Michael put in. "But strangely, two nights ago all the boards were laying neatly on the floor! And I'm not saying I believe the ghost explanation, but none of us living souls here would have done it."

"What reason would one of the ghosts have to do it?" Perry wondered.

"Who knows," Michael shrugged. "Maybe they just want to make sure we remember how they died."

Della looked to Bonnie. "Have you sensed anything, Bonnie?" she asked in kind concern.

"No, I haven't," Bonnie sighed. "This ESP hasn't really proved very useful to me. It never seems to work when we could really use it!"

Mrs. Walker was standing again, near the stairs to the second floor. "That's strange," she frowned.

"What is?" Perry asked. He got up, seeing that she was gazing up the stairs.

"I just heard a creaking sound in the walls," she said. "The only times I've ever heard that particular sound are when the elevator is moving. But we haven't even gotten it fixed since . . ."

A horrible, haunting, piercing cry echoed through the walls and sent everyone springing to their feet.

"That was Philip!" Bonnie exclaimed, sheet-white. "He screamed like that when the elevator plunged." She rushed past the others, hurrying up the steps.

Della looked to Perry in shock. "Perry, what on Earth . . ."

Perry grimly touched her upper arm. "Let's go up there and see."

About halfway up the stairs, a horrific crash sounded through the walls. "And that must have been the elevator hitting rock bottom," Michael said, definitely disturbed now even though he was still attempting a light joke.

Mrs. Paisley looked ill. Mrs. Walker stayed by her in concern as they went upstairs.

Thomas and Philip's door was open again, but Bonnie might have opened it. She was standing at the elevator door inside the room, peering into the shaft.

"Do you see anything?" Perry queried as he and Della arrived.

Bonnie shook her head, looking dizzy and dazed as she stepped away. "Nothing's there," she said weakly. "But . . . something still isn't the way it was left."

His eyes narrowed, Perry looked into the shaft and saw it was true.

The elevator was sitting in the doorway.

"You never brought it back up when it fell the second time?" Della said.

"No," Mrs. Walker said as she came up from behind her. "There was too much sadness connected with this machine. I didn't want to see it used ever again." She gazed at it now, visibly shivering. "But somehow, now, here it is."

Perry reached and closed the door.

Mrs. Paisley was chalk-white. "You all hated Philip in life. Well, now he won't leave you alone in death." She turned away, her eyes flashing. "Maybe that's just the way it should be."

Mrs. Walker stared after her. "I can't think Philip would be doing this just to torment us," she said weakly. "He and Thomas must have some other reason for it. They must be trying to communicate! Oh, if only I knew what they wanted. . . ."

Della looked after her with compassion. "Perry, we have to find out what's causing all this," she said quietly.

"I know, Della," Perry frowned. "The main question I have is whether the ghosts are real . . . or humans masquerading as spectres."

He glanced to the departing Mrs. Paisley, his expression darkening all the more.

xxxx

"Okay, so the elevator didn't really crash last night, like it sounded. Couldn't someone have had a tape recorder hidden somewhere with all the sound effects on it?"

Paul was sitting on the edge of Perry's desk, listening while he and Della related the bizarre and disconcerting experience of the previous night.

"Well," Della said, "if someone did, we certainly didn't find it."

"We should look into all possibilities, though," Perry said, "including that perhaps someone was hired to sound like Philip Paisley and scream. Possibly it could be Mrs. Paisley, still angry and hurting over both her husband's death and the way she perceives that the rest of the family treated him."

"It could be," Della agreed, "but that poor woman was so pale I just can't imagine she had anything to do with it."

"That's a good point, Della," Perry said. "It doesn't let her off the hook, but she did behave as though she was witnessing those horrors for the first time and had no knowledge of them beforehand."

Paul sighed. "I'll see what I can find out either way," he said, getting down from the desk, "but don't hold out too much hope."

Della frowned. "Mrs. Walker is so sure that both Philip and Thomas are haunting the house now," she said. "I can't say I'd have too much trouble believing Philip would cause so much trouble, but would Thomas? I know he wasn't a very nice person when he was alive, but his mother doted on him so much I can hardly believe he would want to frighten her."

"Maybe that isn't his intention," Perry replied, "if his ghost is in the house. Maybe it isn't even Philip's intention. It's possible that they're both simply trying to communicate with the living for some reason, just as Mrs. Walker says."

Paul snarked. "Do you really believe that?"

"I don't know," Perry frowned, gazing down at a pencil as he turned it between his fingers. "I've never especially disbelieved in the existence of ghosts; on the contrary, I believe there's a lot of strange things going on in this world that we can't explain. Just because there's usually a different explanation for paranormal activity doesn't mean there's never any actual ghosts."

"I guess," Paul said. "But okay, suppose they're trying to communicate. Why? Shouldn't they both be in the afterlife right now?"

"It's hard to say." Perry set the pencil down. "There's many experts who say that some spirits remain Earthbound, usually because their ties to the mortal world are too strong to be severed even by death. Or perhaps Thomas, at least, originally was in the afterlife and decided to stay here instead after Philip got his attention by pretending to write messages from him. And Philip himself . . . who knows."

"It all sounds pretty wacky," Paul proclaimed. "Like something out of an old horror picture."

"Well, horror picture or not, this one is definitely real and affects a lot of nice people," Della said. "But what do we do if we eliminate every possibility other than ghosts?"

"Hamilton has a friend who knows a lot about the supernatural and the occult," Perry mused. "Perhaps she would know what to do."

Paul stared, slack-jawed. "Don't tell me you're going to tell all of this to Burger! He'll just think we've all gone off the deep end!"

"Perhaps," Perry smiled. "But that's a chance I'll just have to take."

xxxx

Hamilton leaned back in his chair, unable to keep an amused smile from splitting his features as he listened to the tale of the disturbing events. But, as Perry finished his story, Hamilton sighed and tried to sober up.

"Well, Perry, I just don't know what to tell you," he said, straightening and lacing his fingers on his desk. "I feel bad for that family. They've already had more than enough sorrow. They certainly don't need someone playing cruel pranks on them like this. But as far as I'm concerned, that's all it could be. The very thought that the ghosts could be real is . . ."

"I know, Hamilton, you can't believe any sane person would believe in ghosts," Perry interrupted. "But what about Mignon Germaine? Would you be kind enough to explain the situation to her and inquire as to whether she would be willing to investigate Mrs. Walker's home, if we can't find any logical explanation for what's happening there?"

"Of course I will," Hamilton said. "Or I could set up an appointment for you to tell her all the details. I don't know what she'll say, though. Remember, she doesn't consider herself a qualified 'paranormal investigator' or whatever those people call themselves."

"But she does know a great deal about paranormal subjects," Perry inserted.

"I'll give you that," Hamilton admitted. He reached for the phone. "Hang on, Perry. She should still be at home now. I'll see if I can get in touch with her."

xxxx

"I was surprised when Hamilton gave me your message, Mr. Mason." Mignon set down a cup of tea on the table and looked to her guest.

Perry, still holding his cup, smiled. "Yes, I imagine you don't get many requests from lawyers to decipher possible paranormal activity."

She smiled slightly in amusement. "It isn't usual.

"Tell me then, Mr. Mason. How long have these strange occurrences been happening in the Walker home?"

"If Philip Paisley's notebook is to be believed, at least several months," Perry said. "He felt that even though he started out as a fraud, only pretending to perform automatic writing, he eventually attracted the attention of the person from whom he was supposed to be delivering messages."

Mignon nodded. "And now the family has been experiencing odd noises, objects being moved, and blood-curdling screams."

"Yes. Della and I were witnesses to the latter. Paul has been going through that house all day long with an electrician, but they haven't yet found any trace of equipment."

Mignon looked thoughtful. "It could be something portable," she suggested.

"We've thought of that," Perry acknowledged. "In particular, I wondered if Mrs. Paisley might be responsible for what's happening. She has been angry with the rest of the family ever since Philip's death, feeling that they were all hypocritical in disliking Philip when they themselves had skeletons in their own closets."

"Would she have had any chance to enter the home and plant equipment?" Mignon wondered.

"There are certainly times when no one is home," Perry said, "and Mrs. Walker can't remember if Mrs. Paisley still has a key from the time she and Philip were living there. So yes, there have been quite a few times when it would have been possible."

"Or the house could actually be haunted," Mignon said. "However, not necessarily by spirits. You mentioned that two people were murdered in the elevator."

"That's right," Perry said. In a bit of surprise he added, "But what do you mean, Mrs. Germaine? If not spirits, what else could potentially be haunting the Walker home?"

"There is a type of paranormal activity called a residual haunting," Mignon explained. "Rather than being brought about by spirits, a residual haunting is instead where a great deal of energy has collected in one particular spot and repeats itself over and over, as an old record does. Traumatic events are very often behind such manifestations. Two murders could definitely do it."

"That's very interesting," Perry mused. "But would a residual haunting be responsible for things such as the boards being torn off of the elevator door or the elevator being returned to the room?"

"No," Mignon admitted. "A residual haunting does not interact in any way with the surroundings or the people; it simply acts out the past in an endless time loop. So either someone living removed those boards . . . or someone not living did."

"Perhaps there are two different types of hauntings taking place," Perry said in concern.

"What about the girl, Bonnie?" Mignon asked. "I remember the case received a great deal of publicity because of your attempts to prove she had ESP and hence, might have truly entered a trance on the night of Philip Paisley's murder."

"That's right," Perry said. "It was proved that she does have extremely mild ESP."

"Has she entered any trance-like states since the new activity began?" Mignon wondered.

"Not that I'm aware of," Perry said. "It seems like the ghosts are trying every way to communicate except through Bonnie."

"That could be some significance to that," Mignon said. "On the other hand, perhaps it only means that they haven't yet attempted to communicate through Bonnie but still will do so."

"If they are deliberately refraining, what could be the reason for that?" Perry queried.

"Perhaps Thomas doesn't want to put his sister through that experience again," Mignon said. "If it was he who sent the message through Bonnie before, he may have only done it as a last, desperate measure to warn Philip that he would be killed. As for Philip, perhaps he has no desire to communicate via the same method that he faked while alive."

Perry leaned back, pondering on that. "I suppose that makes sense," he said.

"I would be happy to go out to the house and attempt to speak with the spirits, if Mrs. Walker wishes," Mignon said. "But she might prefer to consult an actual paranormal investigator."

Perry set the empty cup on the table and stood. "I'll pass along your generous offer, Mrs. Germaine," he said. "Thank you for your time, and for the tea." He smiled. "This has been most enlightening."

Mignon stood as well. "I hope that your friends will find a solution that satisfies them."

"So do I," Perry said.

xxxx

Paul was frustrated and discouraged—to say nothing of disturbed—when Perry drove out to the Walker estate following his meeting with Mignon. Seeing Perry's car arrive, Paul hurried outside, despite the fact that rain looked imminent.

"Hello, Paul," Perry greeted, turning off the engine. "I don't suppose you're rushing out to greet me to let me know you've had some luck in debunking our ghosts?"

"No, I'm rushing out to greet you because I can't stand that house!" Paul exclaimed. "The electrician's creeped out too."

Perry chuckled. "Well, what's so unsettling that you two strong men can't handle it?"

"That's just it, Perry—we don't know!" Paul gripped the top of the car door. "There's no trace of electrical equipment, but the stuff he brought to look for it is going wild. Plus, there's some kind of a presence."

Perry raised an eyebrow. "A presence?"

"Yeah. A smug, arrogant presence!" Paul shoved his hands in his pockets. "It's like it's laughing at us for not finding what we're looking for. But of course there's nothing there that we can see or hear. I don't know whether there really is a ghost or if you and Della just have my imagination going wild!"

"I don't know, either, Paul," Perry said as he got out of the car, "but I'd like to talk to the electrician. Where is he?"

"Up in the attic, with Mrs. Walker and Bonnie," Paul reported. "And he's just about ready to cut out, like I just did!"

Perry lightly cuffed Paul on his upper arm. "Then I'd better hurry and catch him before he does," he said. "Coming, Paul?"

Paul gave a huge sigh and fixed Perry with one of his You know I'd rather not, but I probably will anyway looks. Then, grudgingly, he followed Perry back to the house of doom.

xxxx

In the attic, Mrs. Walker was watching attentively as the electrician moved slowly around the room with his sensor. Bonnie, trailing behind, was writing down the read-outs on the machine at Mrs. Walker's request. As Perry and Paul arrived, the electrician looked ready to run for the hills.

"Look, lady, I don't know what this thing's picking up, but it's not any equipment," he declared. "That private eye and I have been prying up floorboards and looking into the walls for hours, every time there's a reading, even though these readings are way too high to be any kind of electronic device!"

"You're not going to find any electronic device," Mrs. Walker insisted. "It's Thomas and Philip!"

"You'll have to prove that by somebody else," the electrician said. "I've gone as far as I can go." He reached to turn off the sensor.

At that moment Bonnie stiffened. Her eyes rolled back into her head and closed, but she didn't fall. Seemingly of its own accord, her hand began to write.

Paul and Perry froze. "Perry," Paul gasped. "Did she just . . ."

"Quiet, Paul," Perry shushed. He stared, attentively. Nearby, Mrs. Walker's eyes had widened in anticipation and the electrician looked too scared to move.

Bonnie collapsed to the floor before anyone could catch her. The notepad fell and the pencil rolled, stopping at Perry's feet. He bent to pick it up as Mrs. Walker ran to her daughter's side.

"Bonnie!" she exclaimed, gently lifting the young woman's upper body. "Bonnie, dear, are you alright?"

"What?" Bonnie mumbled as she stirred. "What happened?"

"You just went into a trance," Mrs. Walker proclaimed.

That immediately snapped Bonnie awake. "Oh no!" she moaned. "Did I . . ."

"You wrote something," Perry said, frowning as he held up the notepad. Instead of upsidedown and backwards, as Bonnie's first transcription had been, this was perfectly legible and written in unsettling block letters.

I AM NOT RELATED TO YOU.

The electrician took one look at the message and bolted. "That does it," he yelled over his shoulder. "You couldn't get me back in this house if you paid me a million bucks!"

"I don't blame you, friend," Paul called back.

Dazed, Bonnie took the notepad from Perry and gaped at the message. "I don't understand," she said. "What does this mean, Mr. Mason?"

"I'm not sure," Perry admitted. "But if it's a genuine communication from the other side, it seems that there's a different spirit behind the hauntings than we've been thinking."

Mrs. Walker stared at the message and slumped back, slowly shaking her head. "I've wanted so much to believe that Thomas has been here," she said sadly. "The last months have been so hard. It was so comforting to think that Thomas came back. And now, to face this reality, that the spirit must be someone else, maybe someone we don't even know . . ."

"Wait a minute, Mrs. Walker," Perry interrupted. "This message doesn't say that you don't know the ghost, only that it isn't related to you."

"Yes, but who in the world would haunt this house who isn't related to us?" Mrs. Walker said in confusion. She got to her feet, helping Bonnie stand as well.

"Did anyone else own this house before you moved in?" Perry queried as he rose with them.

Mrs. Walker blinked. "Well . . . yes," she said slowly. "But they were our ancestors, the first Walkers to begin Walker Industries. So they are all related to us, unless some of the servants' ghosts stayed on, perhaps. And I don't know why they would haunt this house."

"There's quite a few tales of ghosts that stay on in their old homes," Perry said. "Including servants."

"Yes, but it seems they would have been here all along," Mrs. Walker frowned. "We never experienced any spirit activity until Philip started—we thought—to communicate with Thomas. And after his . . . death, everything was quiet until Bonnie was acquitted."

"That's odd, isn't it," Perry mused. "Think back, both of you. Do you recall the exact day when it first started?"

Bonnie bit her lip. "It must have been about a week after I got out of jail," she said. "Yes, I remember! I came in from shopping and the lights turned on and the kitchen door opened for me."

Perry leaned back. "Well, that sounds fairly benign," he mused.

"I thought it was Michael at first," Bonnie said, "and I thanked him for it. But when I got in the kitchen, he wasn't there!"

Mrs. Walker nodded. "Things continued in that vein for quite some time," she said. "We didn't call you, Perry, because it didn't seem a concern when our ghosts were just being helpful."

"Mother didn't mind, at least," Bonnie said. "I wasn't sure what to think."

"There was a point when they stopped being helpful?" Perry's eyes narrowed.

"Oh yes," Mrs. Walker declared. "When they started opening Thomas and Philip's door."

"And screaming in the middle of the night," Bonnie shuddered.

"And opening the elevator three nights ago," Mrs. Walker added.

Perry considered this information. "Do you remember the exact day when these things started?"

"Two weeks ago," Bonnie said immediately. "The first time I found that door open."

Perry frowned. "I don't like to worry you even more, but it sounds like there could be a chance that you have two or more types of ghosts in the house," he said. "Either that or you have one ghost that wanted to lure you into a false sense of security before revealing its true colors."

"You mean there might be both benevolent and malevolent ghosts?" Mrs. Walker supplied.

"Something like that, perhaps," Perry agreed, "if you have ghosts at all. And I'm starting to think you actually might."

"It looks like you'd better call Mignon Germaine again," Paul sighed, wishing he hadn't been listening to this conversation. He was going to have nightmares tonight.

"Or I could bring her here," Perry suggested. Looking to Mrs. Walker he explained, "Mignon Germaine practices vodun and knows a great deal about ghosts and spirits. She offered to come here, if you'd like, but she isn't a practicing paranormal investigator and she wondered if you might prefer one of those."

"Oh, I'd be happy to have anyone come who might be able to explain these things," Mrs. Walker sighed. "Yes, Mr. Mason, please tell her to come as soon as she can."

Perry smiled. "I'll drop by her house again on my way back into town. She may be going to work soon, but she might be able to come by on her way in."

"I hope so," Bonnie sighed. "Oh, I wish someone could figure out what's happening!"

"If Mrs. Germaine can't, she should be able to tell you someone who can," Perry said with an encouraging smile. "Let's go, Paul."

Gladly, Paul said silently as he followed Perry out of the attic.

xxxx

Della frowned as she listened to Perry's relation of the eerie events. They were back in the office that evening, following Perry and Paul's return from the Walker estate. Outside, a heavy rain pelted the balcony doors.

"Well, Della?" Perry asked at the conclusion. "What do you think? Do you have any possible theories on what's happening to our friends?"

Della tapped her pencil on her writing pad. "I don't know, Perry," she said, shaking her head. "It all sounds very disturbing, especially what poor Bonnie wrote on her notepad."

"I know," Perry frowned. "She was terribly upset about that. I don't think anyone can blame her."

"And Mrs. Germaine said she wouldn't be able to get over there until after work," Della mused.

"It'll be late, but Mrs. Walker said she was more than willing to wait," Perry said. "She doubts she'll sleep properly until this has all been solved."

"I'm sure she won't," Della said.

Suddenly she paused. "Perry, didn't you say that the less friendly activity started about two weeks ago?"

"That's right." He looked up at her. "Why?"

"Well, wasn't that when Helen Garden died?"

Perry stared. "Of course," he exclaimed. "The woman who murdered both Thomas and Philip in cold blood. She was executed two weeks ago at the stroke of midnight." He got up from the desk. "Someone like that could easily stay here after her death instead of moving on, and what more logical place for her to haunt than the scene of the two brutal murders she orchestrated? Della, you're a genius!"

Della would ordinarily make a smiling crack at that comment, but at the moment she was too disturbed by the possible solution to the mystery. "Perry, if she is the one haunting the house, everyone there might be in terrible danger!" she cried.

Perry frowned. "She was the secretary companion to Mrs. Walker for years. It was Thomas and Philip with whom she was angry, not Mrs. Walker or Bonnie or Michael. However, considering the idea that she might be the malevolent ghost and has been tormenting those poor people, I don't think I'd put anything past her now." He grabbed his coat and hat. "Come on, Della. We'd better get back out to the estate before anything else might happen."

Della was more than willing to set aside her notepad and pencil to follow.

xxxx

Both Perry and Della were surprised at the end of their climb up the hill to find two other cars on the property. One was Mrs. Paisley's, Della realized, but the other, which was just parking now, was unfamiliar to her.

"This isn't Mrs. Germaine's car, is it?" Della wondered.

"No, it isn't," Perry said. "Hers is blue. This one is white." He got out with Della, opening an umbrella over their heads.

As they approached the car, a vaguely familiar young man got out, adorned in a raincoat and hat and not bothering with an umbrella. He glanced over, catching their eyes. "Hello," he greeted. "Mr. Mason, Miss Street. I was told you would probably be coming back."

Perry squinted through the rain as they drew closer. "Mr. Sampson, isn't it?" he realized at last.

"Yes." Sampson smiled, holding out his hand. "I believe this is the first time we've encountered each other outside of the courtroom."

Perry shook the young deputy district attorney's hand. "It is," he acknowledged. "I wasn't aware that you knew the Walkers."

"Thomas and I were in school together," Sampson replied, somewhat awkwardly.

"That must have been . . . interesting," Perry said carefully.

"Yes," Della agreed, as they all walked to the large porch. "We've all heard tales about how wild Thomas was." She looked at Sampson with a curious, sidelong glance. It was hard to picture him, straitlaced and almost obsessively upright as he was, being friendly with someone such as Thomas Leslie Walker.

Sampson flushed. "Yes, well . . . that's how he was then, too. He was a bad influence, I'm afraid, but knowing him resulted in my friendships with the rest of the family. Mrs. Walker called me right after you left, Mr. Mason, and told me some of what's been going on. I thought I should come out."

"I'm sure your presence will be appreciated," Perry said, noting Dr. Younger's car in the driveway.

Following his gaze, Sampson said, "I believe Dr. Younger is hoping I can talk some sense into Mrs. Walker. He, of course, isn't convinced that spirits are responsible for all of this madness."

"And what explanation does he have?" Perry returned.

"He doesn't have one," Sampson said. "What about you, Mr. Mason? Mrs. Walker told me you weren't adverse to the idea of spirits."

"Let's just say I'm keeping an open mind," Perry said with a vague smile. "And yourself?"

"Well . . ." Sampson gave a short laugh. "Mr. Burger, of course, doesn't believe in ghosts or spirits or anything unusual. I'm not even sure he believes in extra sensory perception. I lean more towards his way of thinking, but I'm not as skeptical. Perhaps ghosts are real, and perhaps Thomas is haunting this house, or perhaps not. I don't know, and I don't know that anyone can know for certain."

"We may just know a lot more before long," Perry said cryptically.

"Hmm. Are you holding out on us, Mr. Mason?" Sampson wondered. "You seem to know more than you're willing to say."

"Actually, we came here to express our latest theory," Perry said. "Della came up with it."

Della blushed. "Oh, I just made a comment that got Mr. Mason thinking," she said with a smile. "He came up with the theory."

"I look forward to hearing it," Sampson said.

As they arrived on the porch, Sampson used the heavy doorknocker. In a moment, the door was opened by Bonnie, who smiled to see the trio. "Oh, please come in, all of you," she greeted, stepping aside to let them in.

Della immediately noticed the worry in her eyes. "Has something else happened, Bonnie?" she asked in concern.

The thunder clapped and Bonnie jumped a mile. "Yes!" she cried, hurrying to shut the door once everyone was inside. "Ever since this afternoon, something hasn't been right. Mother believes that whatever or whoever is here is angry because of the investigation."

"Do you honestly believe it's your brother?" Sampson frowned as he shed his raincoat and hat.

"Oh, I don't know," Bonnie said helplessly. "I never used to believe in any of this nonsense, like Mike still doesn't. But after Philip's death and my trance and the ESP . . . well, it's hard to know what to think!"

"It would be," Perry said. "But what's happened?"

"There's this dark, cold feeling permeating through the entire house," Bonnie said. "Once you all take off your coats, I'm afraid you'll be able to feel it a lot more."

"I feel it right now," Della declared as she slipped out of her coat. Shivering, she pulled it back on. "I thought it was just the cold from outside."

"No, it's all through the house. We have a fire going, and the heat's on full-blast, but nothing helps!" Bonnie led them through the entryway and into the living room, where Mrs. Walker, Dr. Younger, Michael, and Mrs. Paisley were sitting on the furniture and looking various shades of uneasy and worried. Bonnie walked around to the piano and then to her husband.

Perry and Della made their way into the room, definitely noting the chill. "Hello again," Perry said.

Mrs. Walker tried to smile. "Oh, Mr. Mason, Miss Street. Gregory." She looked to Sampson. "I'm so glad all of you could come. I just don't know what we're going to do. The evening is still young and Mrs. Germaine didn't think she could get here until late. She recommended a couple of actual paranormal investigators. I've been sitting here debating calling one of them. I just don't think I can stand several more hours of this . . . this horrible, otherworldly chill and this dreadful feeling of something being wrong!"

"I'm against it, of course," Dr. Younger frowned. "I'm afraid it will only make matters worse instead of better."

"Oh, but these ghost-busters are highly recommended," Michael remarked. "Right now, I think I'd be willing to try anything to get this old house warm again."

As Sampson followed the others in, he suddenly stiffened. Mrs. Walker immediately looked to him in concern. "Gregory, what is it?" she asked.

Sampson turned, looking behind him and reaching to touch the air. "It felt like . . . it feels like I just passed through a wall of Jell-O." He poked the air with a finger. "It's right here."

Bonnie went rigid as well. "Get out," she whispered, low and most unlike herself.

Mrs. Walker stared. "Bonnie, what are you saying?" she exclaimed.

"Get out!" Bonnie screamed louder. "Get out, get out!" The lightning flashed, silhouetting her against the window, and those not already standing leapt to their feet.

Michael slumped back, completely pale. "For just a moment there, Bonnie looked like Helen Garden," he gasped.

Della gasped too. "That's what Perry wanted to talk with you about!" she said. "He thought that maybe Helen's ghost came here, since the most malevolent things started happening right around the time of her execution."

"That's right," Perry acknowledged. He started to walk towards the piano. "Bonnie, come sit down."

But Bonnie continued to stand where she was. "No." She looked to Sampson, who was still staring at her in disbelief. "I want him gone."

Perry looked to Mrs. Walker. "Did Helen have reason to dislike Mr. Sampson?" he frowned.

Mrs. Walker shook her head helplessly. "I don't know," she stammered. "I didn't think she would, but . . ."

"She didn't like him," Mrs. Paisley spoke up. "He tried to tell Thomas once that Thomas should leave Helen alone. Thomas laughed about it in a letter to Phil."

"That's awfully flimsy evidence," Perry mused.

"I thought Helen was a decent person," Sampson frowned. "I didn't think Thomas should be corrupting her."

"So there must have been another reason, if Helen really didn't like you," Della said.

"I remember she didn't like my being friendly with Thomas," Sampson said. "She accused me once of encouraging Thomas to attend drunken parties and cavort with all manner of uncouth women."

"And did you?" Perry returned.

"It was the other way around," Sampson retorted. "Thomas was encouraging that of me. And I feel I should say that while Thomas may have been a bad influence, I was never anywhere as wild as he was, with women or otherwise."

"Then why in the world did Helen think it of you?" Della exclaimed.

"She didn't want to believe it of Thomas," Sampson said. "But she was forced to accept it eventually."

Suddenly he choked, his hands going to his throat. He fell back, his eyes wide in panic and pain.

Mrs. Walker gasped in horror. "Gregory!" she cried. Running to him, she turned and screamed, "Stop it! Whoever you are, you must stop it! You'll kill him!"

Perry ran over too, while Della stared in open-mouthed horror and Bonnie stood like a stone statue, eerily pointing a finger in Sampson's direction.

Michael looked from the choking deputy district attorney to his unmoved wife, bewildered and disturbed and not understanding any of this. "Okay, Bonnie, that's enough of that now," he said. He grabbed Bonnie's wrist, trying to lower her arm. It wouldn't lower.

Another clap of lightning put the lights and the fire all out at the same time. A sickening thump came in the next moment.

"What was that?" Dr. Younger demanded, sharply. "Sylvia?"

"I'm right here, Arthur," Mrs. Walker responded.

Della's heart gathered speed. "Perry?!" she called, trying to feel her way to where she knew Perry had last been.

"I'm here, Della." Perry sounded grim. "I'm afraid it was Sampson who collapsed."

"Oh no." Mrs. Walker sounded alarmed, but at the same time not surprised. "Perry, is he badly hurt? Was he strangled?"

"I don't know what happened," Perry answered, "but I can't find a pulse. He's dead."

At that pronouncement, three things happened at once.

Another crack of thunder brought the lights and the fire back on.

And Bonnie suddenly went limp, fainting backwards into Michael's arms.