Ghost of Holly Manor
Maureen McHugh, Elaine Kearney and Glenda Wayman were having lunch at the Green Man Pub when an agitated stranger barged in and headed for the bar.
"Give me a whiskey, and make it a double," he cried to bartender Liam Devlin, who, along with his wife, Shannon, owned the pub.
"Coming right up."
The stranger quickly downed the drink and asked for another.
"Rough day?" Liam asked, pouring another drink.
"You could say that."
"Derek, is that you?" called Elaine, apparently recognizing the young man.
"Mrs. Kearney?" he responded, surprised to see his former high school history teacher.
"It is you. Is there anything wrong? You seem upset."
"I've just seen ...."
He reached for his glass, his hand trembling so badly he nearly spilled his drink.
"Come sit over here with us and tell me about it," Elaine coaxed.
Derek Liddell finished his drink, left the bar and sat on the empty seat at the ladies' table.
"Now, tell me what's got you so distraught?"
"I work for my father's construction company," he explained. "And we were hired to renovate the Holly Manor, one of the old hotels in the Naumkeag Hills. A man from Boston bought the place and plans to fix it up and reopen it."
"I imagine that would require a great deal of work," Glenda observed.
"And money," Maureen added. "Those hotels were abandoned in the Thirties and Forties."
"Never mind that," Elaine told her friends, turning her attention back to her former student. "Tell me what you saw."
"I'm n-not s-sure," he stammered nervously, "b-but I think it was a g-ghost."
The three retired women, who jokingly referred to themselves as the Three C's Ladies Club (because they regularly meet for coffee, cake and conversation), once investigated a haunting at the Puritan Falls lighthouse and had self-published a book about their discovery. Since then, they had developed an interest in all things ghost-related. Thus, when they heard Derek's claim, they were immediately interested.
"There's nothing to be afraid of," Glenda assured him. "The dead don't hurt you. It's the living you need to be afraid of."
"We've seen a ghost ourselves," Maureen informed him. "She was a harmless girl who died before her time."
"Tell us about what you saw," Elaine prompted.
The three women, having put him somewhat at ease, Derek began, "The day I arrived at the hotel, I got out of my truck and stared at the place for several minutes, amazed at its size. My eyes were eventually drawn to one of the third-floor windows. An eerie glow came from the room as if someone had left a light on. I don't know why, but the sight of it sent a chill down my spine."
"Did you investigate the source of the light?" Glenda inquired.
"To prepare an estimate for our services, I examined every room, noting the condition and what repairs would be needed. Not only were there no lamps in the guestrooms, but there was no electricity in the hotel. There was no way I could have seen a light from outside."
"Maybe it wasn't a ghost at all," Elaine theorized. "Perhaps it was something reflecting the sunlight."
Derek shook his head and elaborated, "It was a cloudy day."
"Was that the only time you saw this strange light?" Maureen wondered.
"The light, yes. What I saw next was a shadow."
"A shadow?" Glenda echoed.
"This morning, I was taking measurements of the rooms that needed new flooring as opposed to refinishing. When I entered Room 318, I realized it was the same room where I saw the mysterious light. I turned on my high-powered lantern, and when I did, an unexplained shadow appeared on the wall. It looked like ... like ...."
Perspiration beaded on his brow as he recalled the frightening vision that had driven him from the hotel in fear.
"Like what?" the retired history teacher urged.
"Like a woman's body swinging from the end of a rope."
* * *
Elaine, a widowed mother of three grown children, slipped her camera into her handbag when fellow Puritan Falls native Maureen, a former ER nurse and divorcee with no children, pulled into her driveway. The two then picked up Glenda, a widowed retired librarian from Pennsylvania, before heading to the abandoned Holly Manor in the Naumkeag Hills.
"What time are we supposed to meet the carpenter?" Glenda inquired.
"Derek said he'll meet us in the lobby at ten o'clock," Elaine answered.
"How long do you think we'll be there?"
"I suppose that depends on what we find. At least long enough for me to get some photos."
"I researched the place on the internet," Glenda said.
"That's not surprising," Maureen teased. "Once a librarian, always a librarian."
"Anyway," Glenda continued, "Holly Manor was built in 1854. It was a successful resort up until the First World War. Somehow it managed to hold on. Then in the 1920s, it gained new popularity. Unfortunately, the Depression hit it hard. It closed up in the Thirties. The owner always hoped to reopen, but he died in 1955, and no one has shown any interest in the hotel until now."
"Now we know the history," Elaine said. "What about any tales of murder, hauntings, that sort of thing?"
"None that I found yet, but I only had time to visit a few local history sites. For reported ghost sightings and such, I'll need to visit websites of paranormal groups."
It was five minutes to ten when they arrived at their destination. Getting out of the car, all three women gazed up at the third-floor windows.
"I wonder which one is Room 318," Maureen mused.
"I don't know, but I don't see a glowing light in any of the windows," Glenda responded with disappointment.
"Don't get discouraged," Elaine advised.
"Hello, ladies. You're right on time," Derek noted.
"Punctuality comes from being a teacher," Elaine laughed. "More than forty years of having to keep pace with the bells."
Since the elevator was no longer in operation, the contractor led them up the stairs to the third floor. Room 318 was a short walk down the hall.
"This is it," he announced and opened the door.
"It's not what I expected," Glenda grumbled.
"What did you expect?" Maureen teased her. "A ghost to come swooping down at you?"
"No. Nothing so drastic. I thought maybe there would be a chill in the air. But I don't feel or see anything. This looks exactly like what it is: a hotel room that's been boarded up for ninety years."
Elaine removed her camera from her handbag and took photos of each of the walls, the floor, the ceiling and the interior of the closet. It was only when she viewed the images on the Nikon's screen that the shadow of a woman hanging by the neck appeared.
"There she is!" the former nurse exclaimed.
"That young man was right. There is something in this room," Glenda concluded.
"But who is she?" Maureen wondered. "And what happened to her? Was she murdered? Did she commit suicide? If so, why?"
"Looks like I have a lot more research to do," Glenda stated. "I think I'll stop at the library tomorrow. Patience has access to all sorts of information that's not on the internet."
Patient Scudder, the librarian at the Puritan Falls Library, was currently writing a book on the history of the village. For the past several years, she had accumulated a vast collection of letters, diaries, journals and official documents. Perhaps somewhere in her mountain of papers there was an account of the death at Holly Manor.
* * *
After leaving the library, Glenda stopped at Sweet Indulgence on the corner of Gloucester and Essex Streets. Her visit with Patience had been a disappointment. The librarian was unaware of any death, accidental, murder or suicide, having occurred at Holly Manor. Desiree's chocolate might cheer her up.
"Fancy meeting you here," Maureen greeted her friend.
"You know me. I'm a major chocoholic."
As the two women scanned the contents of a glass case filled with truffles, Desiree LeFleur came from the back room, carrying a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries.
"Good day, ladies. If you need help with anything, please let me know," the chocolatier told them in an accent that proclaimed her Louisiana roots.
While debating whether she wanted dark chocolate coconut truffles or milk chocolate peanut butter dreams, Glenda carried on a conversation with Maureen.
"I haven't been able to learn anything about that poor woman."
"What bothers me," Maureen murmured, "is why Derek Liddell could see her shadow, and yet none of us could. Had it not been for the image appearing on Elaine's photograph, I would have thought he was pulling our leg. Either that or he was seeing things."
"Too bad Kevin and Marla aren't available to help us."
Kevin McCoy was a self-taught paranormal investigator, and Marla Lovejoy was an eighteen-year-old psychic. Both were currently working with a paranormal research team from Boston that aspired to someday have their own television series like Ghost Hunters and Ghost Adventures.
"Is it a spirit you are discussing?" inquired Desiree, who had overheard them speaking.
The two women shared with the shopkeeper the facts surrounding the mysterious shadow at Holly Manor and complained about the lack of information available to them.
"Perhaps I can help," the New Orleans native offered.
Glenda remembered that the candy store was haunted and that Desiree, being the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, had inherited her ancestors' ability to communicate with the dead.
"Would you?"
"Of course. As long as we're not trespassing, we can visit Holly Manor, and I can attempt to make contact. Keep in mind, though, the spirit may not want to communicate with me."
"You want to conduct a séance at the old hotel?" Maureen said.
"Not a séance, per se. I can speak to the spirits, but they do not talk. You will not hear them. I read their minds instead."
"We really ought to consult Elaine first before making any decisions."
"Naturally. Discuss it with your friend, and if you decide to proceed, you know where to find me."
* * *
The Three C's Ladies Club met at Maureen McHugh's house the next day. The hostess had baked a sour cream streusel bundt cake and brewed a pot of coffee. As the women indulged in two of their favorite C's (cake and coffee), they engaged in their third C (conversation).
"I still find it hard to believe that Desiree LeFleur is like Haley Joel Osment," Glenda said.
"Haley who?" Maureen asked. "I never heard of her."
"Him, not her," Elaine chuckled. "He was the child star in M. Night Shyamalan's The Sixth Sense."
"You know," Glenda clarified, "the kid who claimed, 'I see dead people.'"
"Oh, yeah," Maureen said. "I remember the commercials, but I never saw the film. When you're a nurse at a busy emergency room, you don't have much time to go to the movies."
"Anyway," Glenda continued, "Desiree claims her ancestors practiced voodoo. She wants to help us discover the identity of the ghost in Holly Manor and, hopefully, find a way to help the poor woman move on so that she can rest in peace."
"What do we think?" asked Maureen, who was pouring out second cups of coffee. "Should we take her up on her offer?"
"I don't see why not," Elaine answered. "Even if she fails to contact the spirit, what harm could it do? It's not as if our reputation as sane women is at stake. The whole village knows we investigate hauntings. Hell! We wrote a book about what we discovered at the lighthouse."
"I take it that's a yes vote," Maureen said.
"Yes," Elaine confirmed.
"I vote yes, too," Glenda concurred.
"My vote makes it unanimous," Maureen declared, happily thinking that another book would soon be in the making.
* * *
Meanwhile, at Sweet Indulgence, Desiree was pouring dark chocolate into silicone molds. A sudden chill in the air preceded the arrival of Saoirse O'Meara, the ghost of the young girl who had died when the building housed a pharmacy. The revenant remained silent, but the chocolatier could easily read her mind.
Are you going to the hotel to try to speak with the dead woman?
"I don't know. Neither Glenda nor Maureen has gotten back to me. Why do you want to know?"
I'm curious, that's all. When I was alive and working as a maid for Mrs. Higbee in Salem, I heard many tales about ghosts there. If the rumors are to be believed, there's one in every old building in Eastern Massachusetts. I used to scoff at such things. Obviously, I've come to believe ghosts do exist.
"Have you ever met other beings like yourself?"
No. I haven't been outside this building since 1924. Although my body was taken away, my soul has remained.
Desiree stopped talking as she spooned a dollop of creamy coconut filling into each chocolate bonbon. When she was finished, she topped the confection with another layer of dark chocolate.
"There! Once they've hardened, I can put them in the display case."
No sooner had she finished making the coconut cream candies than her cell phone rang and Saoirse vanished from sight.
"Hi, Desiree."
According to the caller ID, it was Glenda Wayman on the line.
"Hello, Glenda. Have you and your friends come to a decision about going to Holly Manor?"
"Yes. We want to go ahead with it. When would you like to go?"
The members of the Three C's Ladies Club were all retired, so they were free on most days. Desiree, who spent most of her time in Sweet Indulgence, had to make arrangements for someone to mind the store.
"I will call Brittany McMurtry and see when she's available to come in early sometime this week."
Brittany, Officer Shawn McMurtry's daughter, was a student who worked part-time at the candy store. Fortunately, the teachers at Puritan Falls High School were holding an in-service program the following Thursday, and classes would be cancelled.
"Thursday, it is," Glenda confirmed when Desiree returned her call later that afternoon. "I'll have Elaine tell Derek to expect us. See you then."
* * *
Desiree arrived at Holly Manor and found Elaine Kearney's SUV parked in front of the hotel next to Derek Liddell's pickup truck.
"Where's the contractor you spoke of?" she asked the women who were assembled in the lobby.
"He's busy measuring the workspaces in the former kitchen," Elaine replied. "We're to go on with our investigation without him."
"Follow me," Glenda stated, heading toward the staircase. "I regret that the elevator's not working."
"That's all right," Desiree chuckled. "I can use the exercise. One of the drawbacks of owning a candy store is having a tendency to gain weight."
All four women were slightly winded when they reached the third-floor landing but were breathing normally when Maureen opened the door to Room 318 and announced, "This is it." As before, the Three C's could see no shadows or other signs of paranormal activity. Nor could they feel cold spots often associated with the presence of spirits. Desiree, on the other hand, could immediately sense the presence of a ghost.
"Who are you?" she called but received no answer, either verbal or telepathic. "You mustn't be afraid of us. We only wish to help you."
"Do you see anyone?" Elaine asked the candymaker.
Desiree shook her head. "No, but I can feel her sorrow. It's incredibly strong. I fear she did not have a peaceful end."
"You mean she was murdered?" Glenda exclaimed, horrified at the prospect.
"It's possible. But her profound sorrow could have led her to hang herself."
Despite trying for more than an hour, Desiree was unable to receive an answer to her entreaties.
"There is definitely a presence here, but I can't get through to her."
"Thank you for trying, anyway," Elaine said, her voice conveying her disappointment.
"I guess this will have to remain an unsolved mystery," Maureen declared as the women headed for the staircase.
"I'm not giving up so easily," the chocolatier insisted. "You know the old saying, if at first you don't succeed, try and try again."
"Do you think if we come back, the ghost might be willing to communicate with you?"
"She might."
"When do you want to return?" Elaine asked.
"Tomorrow night. It's easiest to contact the dead at midnight."
The three women looked at each other uneasily. Visiting an abandoned hotel was fine in the light of day. But at night? That was a different story.
"Let's all go back to my house," Glenda suggested, adopting a cheerful attitude to hide her discomfort. "I made a lemon poppyseed cake this morning, and I'll put on a pot of coffee."
"Good idea," Maureen agreed.
* * *
At half past eleven, the four women arrived at Holly Manor. They waited in their car for ten minutes before Derek arrived.
"Thanks for coming," Elaine told him. "We didn't want to go inside alone."
"No problem, Mrs. Kearney. I'm happy to do it."
He removed a high-powered flashlight from the cab of his truck and instructed them to follow him. The carpenter unlocked the door and led them through the lobby, up the staircase and down the hall to Room 318.
"And I thought his place was creepy in the daytime," Maureen muttered.
From the large tote bag she had slung over her shoulder, Desiree removed a two-inch-thick, handmade white candle. When she struck a match and lit the wick, it gave off a peculiar scent, a mixture of flowers and spices.
"Please turn your flashlight off," she requested.
The flame from the candle created five elongated shadows on the wall, all of which belonged to the five people in the room.
"Please speak to us," Desiree beseeched the spirit. "We mean you no harm."
A sixth shadow suddenly appeared to the contractor and the three retired women. However, to the African-American woman, a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, whose ancestors knew as much about voodoo as Marie Laveau did, the revenant took on the appearance of a young woman.
"Who are you?"
The answer formed in Desiree's mind: Justine Poston.
She continued to ask her questions verbally and receive her answers telepathically. Thus, the four people in the room with her were privy to a one-sided conversation.
"Why are you here?"
I'm waiting for Edgar. He went to find a justice of the peace to marry us.
"What day did you check into the hotel?"
Today. June 11.
"What year?"
This year, of course. 1929.
"My dear, do you realize what has happened?"
No. Don't tell me something bad has befallen Edgar! Was he hurt? Is he all right?
"I have no idea what happened to Edgar."
"Who's Edgar?" Glenda whispered to her friends.
"I haven't the slightest idea," Maureen replied. "This is like listening to someone talk on the phone. We're only hearing one side of the story."
What has happened then?
"You died here at the hotel," Desiree responded, her voice full of compassion. "Nearly a century ago."
A century. That's not possible!
"It's 2026. Holly Manor has been closed since the 1930s."
How did I die?
"Apparently you hanged yourself."
Mention of suicide jogged Justine's memory. The events of that long-ago night came flooding back to her.
He didn't come back for me.
"Who didn't? Edgar?"
Yes. Edgar Grosse. We were eloping. I left my job as a maid in Gloucester. No sooner did we check into the room than he went out again, saying he would fetch the justice of the peace. I waited for days, but he never returned. I had nowhere to go. No money. I couldn't even pay for the hotel bill.
"So, in desperation, you took your own life. But your body was never found."
The last thing I remember is taking the sheet off the bed and rolling it into a rope. I must have put it around my neck and hanged myself from the exposed beam in the closet.
"Someone had to have cut your body down," Desiree deduced. "But who?"
Unable to answer the question, Justine's spirit wailed with despair. To the chocolatier's astonishment, another shape took form. This one was male.
"And who might you be?" she inquired.
The four other people in the room were puzzled because the new arrival, unlike Justine Poston, who remained bound to the mortal world, did not cast a shadow.
"Who's she talking to now?" Elaine wondered.
Ignoring the women's chatter, Desiree spoke only to the spirits.
"Who are you?"
It was Justine who identified him.
Edgar! What happened to you? I waited and waited, but you never came back.
I couldn't marry you, he confessed, his eyes cast down with guilt over his unchivalrous behavior. I was already married.
Seeing the look of horror on Justine's face felt like a knife twisting in his heart.
I'm sorry, he apologized. I didn't want to hurt you. I really did love you. And I did come back. I wanted to see if there was some way I could help you. But I was too late; you were already gone. I tried to find you, but no one knew what had become of you.
"Why have you come here today?" Desiree asked him.
I want to help Justine. She has suffered so much because of me. I want her to rest in peace.
"How can you help her?"
I know what has become of her body.
"You do? What happened to it?"
When she was found, the hotel manager cut her down. He didn't call the police for fear of what they might discover. It was during Prohibition, you see, and the sale of alcohol was illegal. He was getting paid handsomely to look the other way when bootleggers brought their wares to the guests. Justine's body was taken out and buried in the garden near the fountain.
Once Edgar Grosse revealed the truth, thus soothing his troubled conscience, his spirit departed.
Desiree turned to her friends and announced, "We have to dig up Justine's remains. Only then will she be able to depart this world."
"Dig up her body?" Maureen echoed. "But do we even know where to look for it?"
"Yes. Come with me," Desiree instructed. "Derek, do you know where we can find a shovel?"
"I've got one in the back of my truck," he answered, turning on his flashlight again to lead the way back down the stairs.
It was well past three in the morning when Derek's shovel scraped against a human skull.
"I think we've found her," he said, his voice a mixture of sadness and triumph.
"Are you sure it's her?" Glenda asked.
"How many bodies do you think were buried out here?" Maureen quipped.
"Prohibition. Bootleggers. Gangsters. Who knows?" her friend retorted.
"It's her," Desiree stated, leaving no room for doubt. "It's Justine Poston."
"How do we know that having found her body will release her earthbound spirit?" Elaine wondered.
The seventh daughter of a seventh daughter turned from the freshly dug-up skull to see the woman's spirit standing beside the disused fountain. Seeing the joy on the ghost's face brought a smile to her lips.
Thank you.
"You're welcome," Desiree whispered, but Justine had already vanished, leaving Holly Manor at last.
Salem loves cake and coffee with or without conversation.
