How to Survive a Killer Seance (14 page)

“I am Madam Delicia . . .” Dee began, dragging out the syllables of her name—Dee-lee-cee-ah—in a low, heavily accented voice that sounded Transylvanian. “Velcome to ze Vinchester Mystery Houze. Ve’re here tonight to contact ze spirit of Zarah Vinchester, because ve believe she has zomezing important to zay. But first, you must light ze candles in front of you.”

Dee lit a match that had been placed next to her candlestick, and touched it to the wick. An eerie glow from the candlelight danced on her creamy face. She removed the lit candle from the brass candlestick and passed it to the person on her left—Jonathan. He took Dee’s candle, lit his own with hers, then passed it on to his wife, Lyla. Everyone waited quietly as the candle was ceremoniously passed around the table. When it arrived back at Dee’s spot, she replaced it in her own candlestick. That was my cue to turn off the ballroom lights completely. I was just about to turn the dimmer when I caught a glimpse of the waiter standing in a far corner, watching.

Brad elbowed me, reminding me to finish the task at hand, and I turned off the light, leaving only the flicker of candlelight in the semidarkened room.

“Now, free your minds,” she continued in her bizarre accent, “relax your bodies, and join hands to form a continuous, unbroken spirit circle.”

Grinning at her entertaining persona, the guests joined hands and rested them on the table. I was impressed with Dee’s acting chops. I almost believed Sarah Winchester—the real Sarah Winchester—might surprise us with a visit.

Candlelight flickered on the table.

Floorboards creaked beneath the feet of the observers.

Dee closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and began to chant: “O spirit of Zarah Vinchester, ve zummon you to our table. Please join us now.”

Nothing happened.

Great.

What was Levi doing in his hidden room? Sleeping?

A few minutes passed. Dee repeated her incantation, but the guests began to stir, and murmurs grew in the room. I decided to slip out and check on Levi, but before I could move, a light suddenly appeared inside the crystal ball that sat in the middle of the table. It began as a tiny three-dimensional wisp of light, then quickly grew in size and began to take shape, slowly morphing into the ghostly apparition of an old woman.

Sarah Winchester was back from the dead.

I relaxed as delighted gasps and hushed murmurs swirled through the room. The faint figure filled the space. Sarah Winchester hovered in the center of the table, all four feet ten inches of her, semitransparent but fully formed.

“Oh my God!” someone whispered.

“She looks so real,” said another.

It was true. Jonathan’s new 4-D Projection technology proved to be incredible. I wanted to reach out and touch the figure.

Sarah’s image slowly turned around. She looked down at each person at the table, pausing for a moment. When she arrived at Dee, she stopped—and began speaking.

“Why have you summoned me, Madame Delicia?” Although somewhat scratchy and high-pitched, the voice was familiar. Dee had tape-recorded Sarah’s “voice” using one of her many theatrical dialects. This one was a cross between Glinda the Good Witch and Granny from the Tweety Bird cartoons.

I noticed the hand-holders tighten their grips as they witnessed the “spirit” come to life. They seemed to be especially impressed by Sarah’s ability to focus on Delicia and address her by name.

“Zarah, ve believe you have zomething to share vith us.” Dee said this as if she talked to spirits every day.

“Why, yes, indeed. I’ve come here to tell you about an amazing new discovery that has brought me back to life,” the image said. She turned and faced Jonathan, gesturing toward him with a lace-covered arm. “Jonathan Ellington has created a new dimension in 3-D, which he calls 4-D Projection. As you can plainly see, he’s gone way beyond 3-D of the past, and without the aid of cumbersome glasses.”

The speech Jonathan had written for Sarah sounded more like an infomercial, I thought. Sarah Winchester would no doubt be turning over in her grave at the showmanship.

“How is this possible?” Dee asked.

Sarah Winchester slowly turned in a circle as she spoke, gesturing as naturally as a real human being. “Thanks to Jonathan’s group of engineers, Hella-Graphics has broken through a technological barrier and has moved three-dimensional holographic displays light-years ahead. Simply stated, a special plastic film is used, along with laser beams, transparent electrodes, and an electric field. The exact formula is top secret, of course, but you can see the results as I stand here talking to you.”

Sarah kept spinning as she talked, seemingly making eye contact with each guest in turn. “In other words, this isn’t your grandmother’s credit card hologram. Hella-Graphics’s 4-D Projection offers ‘situational awareness’—like I’m using now—that can track the progress of microscopic surgeries, show pilots upcoming hazards in their airspace, or give emergency response teams nearly real-time views of disasters in progress.”

Even in simple terms, most of this went over my head. I was still in the mind-set of the kind of 3-D where giant hands lunged out from the movie screen to grab the audience and make them toss the popcorn. I hoped those seated were a little savvier than I.

Sarah’s image turned and focused on one of the investors at the table. “Think about the possibilities beyond the movie business. 4-D Projection could eventually replace MRIs and CAT scan monitors, improve military intelligence, and sell products on a whole new level. Imagine going into a store and seeing Matt Damon open a can of Coke, pour it into a glass, and drink it—all while standing right there in front of you. Now, instead of limited viewing angles, we can view three hundred sixty degrees in all directions. And I’m, well, ‘living’ proof, as you can see.” Sarah’s image actually formed air quotes around the word “living.” Jonathan’s input, no doubt.

Even without fully understanding this new technology, I was blown away. If Sarah were really alive, I had a feeling she would be blown away too. I knew that the eccentric woman was one of the first to get an electric elevator, indoor plumbing, and other “new-age” technology.

I glanced over at Brad to see his reaction. Instead of raised eyebrows or wide eyes, he was frowning at the image. I glanced back at Sarah and noticed a glitch in the image, as if there had been a split-second interruption in the transmission.

Sarah turned again. I wondered who she’d address next? But instead of stopping, she kept circling, slowly at first, then more rapidly. Her arms began flapping up and down, frantically. Dee’s mouth dropped open and she, too, looked at Jonathan, who was frowning deeply, obviously alarmed.

Suddenly, Sarah began to speak again, but this time her voice was distorted, as if she were a talking doll low on batteries. This voice didn’t sound like anyone in Delicia’s repertoire of characters.

“Jonathan, Jonathan, Jonathan,” the voice repeated in a singsong tone as the image twirled madly on the tabletop.

Even in the dim candlelight, I could see the color fade from Jonathan’s face as Sarah chanted his name.

“Jonathan, I have a message from George Wells. You remember George? He killed himself in his office last month.”

Jonathan jerked his hands from Lyla’s and Violet’s grips. He glared at Dee. “What are you doing?”

Dee let go of the hands she was holding and held hers up. “Nothing! I swear—”

Jonathan rose up, knocking back his chair. He turned and faced me. “Stop this at once!”

I stood frozen to my spot.

“Jonathan . . .” came the distorted voice again. “Jonathan . . . did he kill himself because you were having an affair with his wife?”

Lyla gasped and looked at Jonathan.

He shook his head. “No! No—”

“Was it even suicide?” the voice continued. “Maybe you made it look that way when George found out about all your affairs . . . You’re up to about a dozen now, aren’t you? Almost as many as Tiger Woods. Let’s see—there’s your secretary, Violet”—at this point, Sarah Winchester’s image turned to Violet and pointed a finger at her—“your receptionist, Maile, your personal trainer, Gina, your driver, Courtney, your accountant, Melissa, the barista, Jennifer. Even your latest conquest”—the image turned again—“Mia, the manager of this very mansion.”

Mia gasped and tried to cover her shocked look with her hands.

“Is there anyone you haven’t done, Jonathan?” Sarah continued. “Was George going to expose you for what you really are—a lying, cheating scumbag?”

Lyla suddenly stood up. Her face burned with anger and embarrassment, her eyes filled with tears. She picked up the brass candlestick propped in front of her and swung it at Jonathan. He pulled back just in time to avoid a blow to the head. Grabbing her arm, he tried to snatch the candlestick from her grip. She let go, then clawed him across the face and fled from the ballroom, disappearing through the exit door where Dee had materialized as a medium.

“Lyla! No!” Jonathan yelled. “Levi, that bastard. He’s ruined everything. Lyla! Wait!” He stopped and glanced around the room, suddenly aware that everyone—his staff, peers, and possible backers—was watching him, eyes wide, mouths agape.

Still holding the candlestick he’d wrestled from Lyla, he ran out after his wife, leaving the rest of us stunned into silence.

So much for Act Two.

Whoa. What just happened?

Sarah Winchester had gone berserk.

Jonathan Ellington had been accused of having multiple affairs.

And Lyla Ellington had tried to kill him with a candlestick.

This party was definitely over.

I stepped to the wall and brought up the lights.

After swallowing a hefty mouthful of wine, I rang a wineglass to attract the buzzing crowd’s attention. “Listen up, everyone,” I said, then had another gulp of wine before continuing. “Uh, it seems our host . . . uh, is indisposed. I want to thank you all for coming tonight, and for donating to the American Stroke Association. Feel free to have more wine. My chef, Rocco, has made some wonderful desserts for you. And when you’re ready, we, uh, have some nice gifts for you to take home . . .”

I looked around for Brad but he had disappeared too. I shot a look at Dee, who immediately headed for the gift table by the exit door and began handing out bags filled with magic tricks, tarot cards, and crystal ball key chains that Lyla had put together. “Thanks again for coming, and good night.”

It wasn’t much of a parting speech, but then, for adlibbing, it wasn’t bad. Everyone else was as stunned as I was, so it probably didn’t matter what I said, as long as I emphasized the wine, desserts, and parting gifts.

“You okay?” Brad asked, sidling up and wrapping an arm around me.

“Sure. Fine. Where have you been?”

“I went looking for Jonathan but didn’t find him.”

“Would you give everyone a few minutes to have their desserts and then help me get them out of here?”

He gave me a squeeze, then ambled over to Raj and Berk, who were helping Rocco serve the meringue ghosts and marzipan candles. It wasn’t long before they slowly herded the bewildered crowd out of the ballroom and out of the house, gift bags in tow.

Mother came striding over, a look of empathy on her face. “Darling, what on earth happened?”

“Good question, Mom. I’m not sure. You know about as much as I do.”

“Stephen is devastated. I don’t know what to tell him. Are you going after Jonathan?”

“Brad tried to find him, but Jonathan’s apparently disappeared. I suppose I could look for him . . .” I was a grand example of indecision, standing there glued to the floor.

“Please, dear. Find Jonathan and see if he’s all right. Stephen wants to see him.”

I figured no one would miss me for a few minutes while I looked for the missing host. The last I’d seen him he was swinging a heavy brass candlestick and had stormed out after his wife.

I headed through the door where he and Lyla had made their escape, and did a quick search of the room where Dee had been before the séance started. Dee’s clothes were still in the room, along with her purse, makeup case, and cell phone. Aside from that, the place was empty.

I moved on to the adjacent room, where Levi was manning the computer. This time the door was locked.

I knocked.

No answer. Alarm bells went off.

I knocked again, wondering if I would have to get Mia to unlock it.

The door cracked open an inch.

“What?” Levi peeked out. With his sweaty face and rapidly blinking eyes, he seemed distraught.