Night Stalks The Mansion: A True Story Of One Family's Ghostly Adventure (5 page)

I sat in a big armchair against the wall that first time for
about forty-five minutes, holding Dorothy on my lap. She
was tense and I was frustrated, for a sense of personal guilt
was growing - I had been the one who insisted on bringing
her into this house. Eventually the stench disappeared.
When the room cleared we went back to bed but not to sleep.

I lay awake and thought of my youthful days when I'd
been a student at a Baptist seminary in New Mexico. I had
wanted to be a preacher like my dad and had finished the
academic work and had preached a sermon for the faculty
when my world caved in. Although I thought I'd done well,
I was quickly challenged by the dean.

"You don't seem to believe in hell, Harold," he stated
sternly. "Do you?"

Until that moment I hadn't realized how much I had
mentally rejected certain rigid orthodox beliefs. I was faced
with my moment of truth.

"Not in the kind you do, I guess," I admitted. Privately,
I thought the reason many people liked to believe in hell
was because they had acquaintances they'd like to see consigned there. The dean questioned me ruthlessly about
other commonly accepted dogma and tried to "turn my
wagon around" as he put it. The effort was not successful;
I couldn't lie to please him and still retain my self respect.
After the interview, I was requested to withdraw from the
seminary. After a few tears shed in private, I resigned formally and gave up all plans for the ministry. Turning my
back on organized religion, I started looking for a job.

To my surprise I discovered that I really enjoyed the business world and my advancement was rapid. After I started
with Montgomery Ward, it was only a matter of months
until I was promoted from salesman to assistant sales manager with seventy employees under me. I then went to work
for other concerns and ended up with Aluminum Corporation of America as sales manager with contacts on both sides of the Atlantic. Although I was considered successful
and my work was demanding and interesting, sometimes
the memory of that early rejection by the dean still rankled.
Once I admitted as much to Dad.

"I really thought God had touched me on the shoulder,"
I told him.

Dad understood. "He touches a lot of people on the
shoulder but it doesn't always mean that they are to preach
the gospel. Living it is more important to my way of
thinking."

There had been nothing in my seminary training to prepare me to deal with ghosts. All psychic phenomena was
lumped under "manifestations of the devil." But if this was
true, why had the Camerons been singled out from all my
other acquaintances for such visitations? Lying awake in
that huge four-poster bed in the old mansion in Pennsylvania, I thought if those fumes had been sulphuric, I would
have owed the old dean an apology.

Dorothy thumped her pillow and I realized that she
hadn't been sleeping, either. "I don't know what that thing
was," she finally commented. "But I'm going to spray this
room tomorrow!"

"Do you think it will do any good?" I asked glumly.

"I don't know. But I have to do something!"

My reminiscences must have softened me somewhat.
"Maybe we should start praying about what's going on
around here."

She was silent for a moment. "I haven't heard you talk
about prayer for quite a while," she observed. Then she
gave a little chuckle. "Well, you pray and I'll spray!" She
turned over to go to sleep.

Dorothy kept her word and thoroughly cleaned and fumi gated the bedroom the next day, but that night there was
the same jab in my ribs.

"Harold, it's backl"

It certainly was. We were again forced to the window
and followed the same routine as the night before. This
time we had to stay out of our bed for nearly two hours. I
was tired and irritable the next morning due to interrupted
sleep and plain confusion. I didn't understand what was
happening. I couldn't cope. There was no one I could go
to for advice without having them think I was crazy. But
what was I to do?

We went on like this for several nights and my tension
increased. My work at the office was showing the result of
my abstraction. We couldn't continue like this indefinitely.
Dorothy's face was showing strain and there were violet
shadows under her eyes. One morning she sat down at the
breakfast table and stared at me silently for a moment.

"I've had it, Harold!" she finally announced. "I know
what we're up against in trying to find another place and I
know how expensive the move will be-but at least I know
what we're up against! That's more than I know here. I
wonder if the place hadn't rented because tenants were
scared away. I could never understand why you were so
crazy about this house!"

It was the nearest to a "I told you so" that Dorothy ever
permitted herself. When I didn't reply at once, she went on
urgently. "You're going to see Mr. Brooks, aren't you? You've
got to break our lease!"

I needed no further persuasion. "I intend to do just that,"
I answered grimly. After all, enough was enough!

I'd hate to have to write a do-it-yourself pamphlet on
how to break a lease with the excuses I was forced to use
that day. My arguments lost a little steam when I faced the meticulous Mr. Brooks once more across his littered desk
and said what I had come to say. I had hoped my reputation as a level-headed business man would help. It didn't
seem to. He listened to my grievances in complete silence.
The silence lasted so long that I felt my face getting hot.

"Well-it's the truth," I blurted out. "I have witnessesl"

"Perhaps it is, Mr. Cameron." Later I thought that he
hadn't acted as amazed as I had expected. I wondered fleetingly if he had been expecting me.

"I'm getting out," I stated flatly.

"Certainly you may get out," he agreed smoothly. My
relief at his words was short-lived as he went on emphatically. "Out of the house, that is, but not out of the lease.
You had better make sure you understand your financial
commitment."

He went over to his files and brought out a copy of the
lease. I listened glumly as he read in his precise voice.

The terms of this lease are absolutely binding upon all
parties. Under no circumstances shall said lease be terminated before the expiration date specified herein.
The premises herein-described are not to be sub-leased.
In the event that, for any reason whatever, the lessee
shall vacate said premises, the rental payment of Three
Hundred ($300.00) Dollars per month is still due and
payable on the first day of each and every month until
said expiration date. The lessee may, however, at his
option, pay the entire balance due hereunder in one
lump sum upon vacating said premises.

I was furious but part of my mind still functioned logically. I felt that a cold perusal of that lease might indicate
that the lessor had actually anticipated an attempt to invalidate it.

"I'll get a lawyer," I threatened after a short silence.

"What do you suppose I got?" Brooks countered neatly.
"You don't think I wrote the lease up by myself, do you?"

"You seem pretty adamant and unconcerned about all
this! What personal ax are you grinding?" I sounded nasty
and I intended to.

He only shrugged. "I represent the owners," he replied
laconically. "When I'm given a job to do, I do it. You, of
all people, should understand that, Mr. Cameron."

I wasn't quite through. "What about the fraudulent circumstances under which the lease was signed?" I demanded
irately. "Nothing was said about having to share the premises with tenants already there."

He had the parting shot and it stopped me in my tracks.
"Can you prove that there are other tenants in your house?
Can you prove it in a court of law? That's what it would
come to."

The horrifying vision of newspaper publicity and the
ensuing reaction of my business associates if the matter came
to court rendered me speechless-but I could still move.
I slammed out the door.

I sat in the car until I had cooled down enough to think
coherently. I had access to legal advice through my firm.
However, I knew how fast rumors could fly through the
office and I was reluctant to admit that I not only believed
in ghosts but that I was being pestered by them. I'd put off
that step as long as I could.

I went into a corner drug store with a small breakfast
bar and ordered a cup of coffee while I did some more
thinking. I made no excuses for myself. I had jumped the
gun. My own negligence now contributed to our present
problems. I had always assured my salesmen that every
problem carried within it the solution if you could figure it
out. I did some figuring, myself, but I couldn't see any
acceptable solution. Maybe I had overlooked some important factor. Maybe the answer was staring me in the face.

I looked up another attorney who had no connection with
Brooks or his office. To my dismay, he gave me the same
advice.

"No one can force you to stay, Mr. Cameron," he said,
looking at me over the top of his bifocals after he had read
the lease thoughtfully. "But you'll have to pay if you leave.
Didn't you realize you'd be in a bind if your office transferred you to another city?"

"I didn't think about it," I admitted shortly. "My mind
went on a vacation about that time." I hadn't gone into
details as to my reasons for wanting to terminate the lease
but had merely stated that private matters made it mandatory that I move.

"Sorry," he announced regretfully. "The lease is airtight
and you signed it."

I left his office a defeated man.

That night I called yet another family conference. I included Carrol because, although barely ten, he knew what
was going on and had already been in on certain ghostly
visitations.

The entire family listened attentively as I told about the
two unsuccessful visits of the morning -and what had motivated them.

"So there you have it," I announced wearily. "It isn't that
we're scared -it's just that this is a darned nuisance and I
don't have time to cope with it. We're in trouble and what
are we going to do?"

Bob looked gloomy as his imagination took over. "We're
all in a predicament," he said. "There goes Bob Cameron
whose father is being chased by ghosts!"

"I seem to remember you boys running more than I did,"
I reminded him rather caustically.

"Sure," he agreed. "But that won't be in the papers."

"It will if this comes to court. You'll all be witnesseseven Carrol."

Hal was less voluble than Bob but what he said usually
made sense. Now he spoke thoughtfully, his hazel eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Dad, none of us have been hurt-physically hurt-by
these things. Maybe we can find out something about psychic
phenomena and learn how to cope. I know there is such a
thing even though none of us have been exposed to it before.
Maybe we can learn about these things. Maybe we should
learn about them. In the meantime, as I said, we haven't
been hurt("

"Only our feelings," Dorothy put in, sotto voce.

I agreed with her. Then I went on soberly. "Hal, you're
right on both issues. To date these things have been-as I
said before-only a nuisance. And we should learn more
about this area."

"I don't think we're going to be hurt in the future,
either," Bob put in. He had gotten to his feet and was restlessly pacing around the room. "Seems to be a directing
intelligence of some kind at work here. Someone is trying
to scare us out. That odor in the bedroom, Dad. The rest
of us haven't noticed that. So it's you and Mom that are
being worked on now because if you leave, the rest of us
go, too. Then the house would be theirs again."

Dorothy, who had been listening thoughtfully, now spoke
up. "I was worried and a little frightened," she admitted.
"I pushed you into trying to get out of the lease. Now I'm
beginning to get my dander up! I find I can take a lot of
annoyance for seventy-two hundred dollars, plus the cost
of moving and the effort of trying to find another place.
Besides, we've worked hard on this house and should eventually have the opportunity to enjoy it!"

I could have cheered but I spoke quietly. "Well, we've
all got to agree. Frankly, I can't afford to lose the money
right now and I couldn't take the publicity of a court action for obvious reasons. But you're all members of this family
and you each have a vote. We're in this together."

"I think it can be handled," said Hal decidedly. "It's only
a matter of learning how to do it - and sticking it out until
we do learn."

"I agree," said Bob enthusiastically.

Carrol was not to be outdone. "Me, too," he cried.

I looked at Dorothy. I would be away much of the time
and she would be responsible for the welfare of the children
in my absence. It would be up to her to overcome an instinctive fear of the unknown and keep things calm.

She looked back at me for several seconds and then
shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance while a little smile
tugged at her mouth.

"I've been doing some mental arithmetic," she said, "and
I figure it won't be too bad. We have only one year, eleven
months, one day and one night to go."

The conference broke up on that note of agreement. I
turned out the lights, locked up, and followed the family
upstairs to bed. As things turned out, it was an uneventful
night. Maybe our antagonists, defeated in their attempts
at intimidation, were regrouping their forces. We felt that
a challenge had been issued and accepted and the next day
Hal came home from the library laden with books by supposed experts on psychic phenomena.

"I've found out one thing," he announced at dinner the
next night. "A lot of cases reported as being in the psychic
activity category are eventually explained by natural causes.
I don't think we've done enough investigating around here."

I agreed. I hadn't forgotten Brooks' reminder that our
case would be a weak one in a court of law. "What do you
have in mind?" I asked.