Drew had an EMF reader, looking for electro-magnetic frequency spikes. Pete wore a pair of smart-glasses that could capture video, and another small camera attached to his hat. Calista set out microphones and a tablet computer to run all her devices.
“No one knows,” Kell replied. “But the theory is that Karla came to speak her mind, and she wanted them both to hear her out. Don’t forget – she expected to show up when everyone would be on good behavior in front of the rich neighbors. I don’t think Karla ever expected two surly drunks.”
“So there was a struggle,” I filled in. Kell nodded. “And the gun went off when it was pointed at Karla. End of mistress.”
“Yep,” Kell confirmed. He led us out of the dining room into a dilapidated grand foyer. Overhead, a huge crystal chandelier hung amid layers of cobwebs.
“Problem was, Manfred Blake was fond of Karla, in fact, fonder than he was of Bethanne,” Kell said. “When the police got here, it looked like a war zone. Ming vases shattered. Bullet holes in the walls. Apparently the Blakes threw everything they could pick up and heave at each other, with some shooting in between.”
“And when the dust settled, Bethanne was dead, too, with a hole in her chest,” Teag supplied.
“Uh huh. So Manfred Blake goes and finishes off a bottle of his best whiskey and eats more of the party food and falls asleep in a drunken stupor,” Kell said. “And when he remembered what had happened, he went out to the garage, put his gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. That was the end of the Blakes’ assault on Charleston society.”
My footsteps echoed as I walked slowly around the perimeter of the foyer. It didn’t take much psychic wattage to know bad energy had never left Tarleton. I wondered if the people who had purchased the house had actually visited it, or just taken a broker’s word for its condition. Anyone with the paranormal sensitivity of a turnip could have felt the resonance. Anger. Jealousy. Betrayal. Shame.
“Out of curiosity,” I asked, “did anyone ever find out who cancelled the entertainment?”
Kell shook his head. “No. But if you get some of the old guard talking – and liquored up with good Glenfiddich – the name Lillian Heath comes up.”
The Heath family was Charleston royalty. They were the equivalent of the Mayflower settlers for the Holy City, and they had done well for themselves. Sorren had hinted on more than one occasion it was because the women in the family were witches who had an edge when it came to financial investment. Because of their blue blood, wealth, and social position, the Heaths would be formidable enemies. Even now, a word from the current Heath brothers could make or break business ventures, and their wives were equally influential. Lillian Heath would have been the Heath brothers’ grandmother.
“What do you know about the other owners?” I asked as we climbed the broad, curving staircase. The carpet was mildewed and rotting. Grime covered the carved teak balustrade.
“The first couple talked about making it a bed and breakfast,” Kell said as he led us up the stairs. “But there were problems from the start.”
We all gathered at the top of the stairs overlooking the foyer. For just a second, I could see the foyer as it had been in Tarleton’s heyday. When I blinked, the vision was gone, but it was far too detailed and real to have just been my imagination. I removed my hand from the railing and promised myself I wasn’t going to touch anything else. Hell, this place was so haunted I was picking up the resonance through the soles of my shoes.
“What kind of problems?” Teag asked. The upstairs hallway stretched into darkness to my left, with closed doors all the way down. A shorter hallway ended in a few steps up and a closed door.
“Lights that went on and off on their own,” Kell replied. “Cold spots. Foggy windows. Drafts even when doors were shut. Strange noises.”
“Did these people not watch any horror movies?” I asked. “Those aren’t construction issues. Those are exorcist issues.”
Kell shrugged. “Not everyone believes,” he replied. “So the first new owners sank a lot of money into trying to fix the place. Then the wife had a nervous breakdown and ended up in a psychiatric hospital because she was hearing voices.”
“And the husband?” Teag asked.
“A series of business failures ruined him financially. A year later, he shot himself.”