“Well, about that,” said Roy, “I think your portal has been co-opted. Unless you were using it to harvest things.”

  “I certainly did!” Robert said. “I used it to harvest some of the biggest gold finds in the area. They’d open up a new mine and I’d come along after they’d collected a fair amount and take a cut for myself. They never knew where the gold went. Didn’t matter how many guards they put on it. I made out like I had my own claim and was working it. But really I was lifting it off theirs!” He slapped his knee, which made no sound. “It was a lot of fun, let me tell you. And I raised enough to build that house, and set my family up for life.”

  “You know they had to sell the house, eventually,” Roy said. “They were not good stewards of your fortune. They went bust.”

  “Yes, I know that,” Robert said. “None of them had a head for business like me. None of them ever thought about stealing for a living!” He turned to look at Steven. He’s a sociopath, Steven thought.

  “Would you let us turn it off? The portal?” Steven asked.

  “Why would I do that?” Robert asked. “It’s paid for.”

  “Someone is using your portal to do some horrible things,” Roy said.

  “Like what?” Robert asked.

  “Show him,” Roy said to Steven. Steven broke the circle and reached into his satchel. He removed the baggie containing the section of proboscis and showed it to Robert.

  “This,” Roy said, pointing to the baggie, “was found in the leg of a woman this morning at the manor. A creature was trying to bleed some of her while she slept, harvest some of her blood. Instead it got this stuck in her and it caused her to hemorrhage out her skin over her whole body. She was completely covered in her own blood and died there on the bed. It’s the sixth death there in the past few years.”

  “So?” asked Robert, unmoved.

  “So,” Steven said angrily, “the creature that this came from is using your portal to enter the manor and attack people. It originally attacked ghosts, harvesting matter from them. But recently it’s developed a taste for human blood and it attacks the guests there every night. Most don’t know they’ve been violated. Sometimes it screws up, like this one, and winds up killing someone.”

  “Your manor is the shame of the county now,” Roy said. “They all think it’s some kind of virus.”

  “What’s a virus?” Robert asked.

  “It’s like a disease that can pass from person to person,” Roy said. “They can’t figure out why people in the manor die from this virus. What they’re likely to do is burn the place down to try and eliminate it.”

  This caused Robert to be more concerned.

  “That building was my life’s work,” he said. “It’s the only thing left. It can’t be burnt down. Not yet.”

  “Then let us shut down the portal,” Roy said. “The deaths will stop, and it might salvage its reputation, spare it from the wrecking ball.”

  “Wrecking ball?”

  “He means,” said Steven, “save it from being burned down. All you have to do is tell Albert to shut it down.”

  Robert mulled this over. “As much as I don’t want certain people back in this cemetery,” he said, “I’m willing to do what you ask. But only after you do something for me, first.”

  “What?” asked Roy.

  “There’s a large amount of gold still in that house, raw gold that I lifted from the mines. I secured it in case things went south, the banks failed, that kind of thing. I landed in my grave before I needed to remove it. No one knows that it’s there. I want my descendants to have it, not the people in the house now. If they burn down my house, that gold might be found by someone else. I want you to extract it and give it to Amy Maysill, no questions asked. She lives right here in Medford, visits this crypt once a month, keeps the flowers up. I doubt she has two nickels to rub together, but she still comes and keeps the front of it looking nice. You remove those bags and deliver that gold to her, I’ll tell Albert to shut it down.”

  “Where is it? In the house?” Steven asked.

  “It’s in the basement. You’ll have to remove bricks to get to it, and dig in a bit. It’s three or four feet into the dirt. There will be a tin box, and inside it, two canvas bags filled with gold. It’ll say Klamath Mining Company on the side of the bags. Get rid of the bags before you give it to her, put the gold in something else. That way she won’t be questioned about it and she won’t be able to say anything about where it came from.”

  “OK, we’ll do it,” said Roy.

  “And gentlemen,” Robert added, “don’t think about taking any for yourselves. If one speck of that gold doesn’t make it into Amy’s hands, the deal’s off.”

  “We understand,” Steven said.

  “When you give it to her,” Robert said, “tell her that Patricia is fine, and asks about Mangey. Oh, and tell her more daffodils, please.”

  “One more thing,” Roy said. “Where does the portal connect to? Where’s the other end?”

  “The last place I had it pointed at was a shaft of the Johnson mine, owned at the time by the Klamath Mining Company. The entrance is north of Johnson’s lake, by Mount Pitt. Good luck, gentlemen. Don’t trample the flowers on your way out.”

  With that, Robert slowly faded. Steven and Roy exited the flow and saw the last of Robert disappear as a faint glow, moving back toward the crypt wall.

  Steven and Roy sat on the ground for a moment longer.

  “This shouldn’t be too hard,” Steven said. “We talk to Pete, we go in and get the gold out of the basement, we deliver it to Amy. Simple.”

  “Let’s get up,” Roy said, attempting to stand. “My legs are cramping.”

  Chapter Nine

  Pete had agreed to meet them at a fruit stand several miles from the manor. Steven, Roy, and Pete walked between the bushels of pears and cherries as Roy explained the situation to Pete.

  “Once we find it and deliver it to her, this will be over,” Roy said. “This is the solution you’ve been waiting for.”

  “But if there’s gold in the house, isn’t it rightfully mine, since I own the place?”

  “Yes, that’s true,” said Roy, “but I urge you not to think that way.”

  “Why not?” Pete said. “If what you say is true, Sarah and I could sell the place and the gold would easily make up for our losses. We’d be set for life.”

  “If you do that,” Roy said, “you’ll be haunted by the ghost of Robert Maysill and his descendants for the rest of your life. I can guarantee that. You’ll have no peace. This way, you can at least get your life back, and Sarah’s too. You didn’t know that gold was there before. Pretend it’s just some valueless object we have to locate and deliver to someone. Don’t let it tempt you.”

  Pete thought about this. “You’re right, I’m letting greed cloud my judgment. Do you really think it’s true? Can you imagine finding a bag of gold in the house? It’s kind of unbelievable.”

  “It’ll make an interesting new chapter in The Ghosts of Mason Manor,” Steven said.

  “Well,” said Pete, “if we’re going to remove bricks, it’ll be noisy. I’ll tell Sarah there’s some furnace equipment I need to repair. She’ll expect that to cause a racket. She monitors the front door and the common areas, but there’s a side door to the basement that I can slip you in, she won’t know you’re there. When do you want to do it?”

  “The sooner the better,” said Roy. “If we can find that gold today and get it returned to his descendant in Medford, you might have a portal-free house tonight.”

  “And no more deaths?” asked Pete.

  “No more deaths,” Roy said. “Just a shitload of ghosts who’ll be a lot happier. And with the portal closed, they’ll eventually drift back to where they came from.”

  “All right,” Pete said, “let’s do it. Park your car out of sight and meet me at the basement door on the north side at noon. It’s the door that’s directly across from the gazebo. I’ll let you in and we’ll get started.”

  “Can you arrange the tools we’ll need as well?” Steven asked.

  “Yes, I’ve got everything you might need down in my workshop.”

  “All right then,” Roy said, patting Pete on the shoulder, “we’ll see you at noon and put this to rest.”

  Pete walked to his car and left Steven and Roy next to the flats of blueberries. As he drove off Steven asked Roy, “Do you trust him?”

  “What do you mean?” Roy asked.

  “I mean,” Steven said as they walked to their car, “do you trust him not to bang us over our heads once we’ve located the gold?”

  “You watch too many movies,” Roy said.

  -

  Steven stopped his car on the side of the road a quarter mile before the driveway to the manor and they walked the rest of the way, cutting into the woods that surround the north side of the house. As they moved from the woods through the meadow and then the property’s lawn, they scanned for anyone out walking the grounds. Seeing no one, they walked past the gazebo and down three cement stairs to a large metal door that was painted light blue. They waited in the stairwell for Pete to open the door, but he didn’t come.

  “It’s five after,” Steven said, “do you think something happened to him?”

  “He’ll be here,” Roy said, “be patient.”

  They waited another ten minutes, and suddenly heard the heavy door begin to move. Pete’s head popped out from behind it.

  “Sorry boys, I got trapped. I’m glad you waited.”

  Steven and Roy slipped in through the door and Pete closed and bolted it behind them.

  Steven walked through the basement checking the various rooms. He stopped at the wall of one in a back corner, but he seemed perplexed.

  “This is the room he told us,” Steven said. “But there’s no bricks here.”

  “What’s that wall made out of?” Roy asked Pete.

  “Looks like drywall to me,” Pete said. “It’s been drywall as long as I’ve been here.”

  “Any chance there’s bricks on the other side of it?” Steven asked. “Can we cut out a section and see?”

  “I don’t see why not,” Pete said, “I’ll be right back.” He left the room and returned from his workroom with a drywall saw. “Any idea where to do it?” he asked.

  “Right here,” Steven said, pointing to a spot about three feet off the ground. “Cut everything from here down to the floor, about three feet wide.”

  Pete punched a hole in the wall and began cutting. He ran into studs and had to reposition the saw, knocking out chunks of the drywall as he went. In short order they all saw red bricks behind the studs, looking very old.

  “That’s a good sign,” said Roy.

  “I’ll get the pickaxe,” Pete said. “Let’s try to save the studs, work the bricks out around them if we can.”

  They took turns swinging at the bricks, and Steven began piling them in a stack in the corner of the room to keep the work area clear. Once they had knocked out six or seven bricks, Steven shined his flashlight through the hole.

  “Dirt,” he announced, pulling back. “This might be it. We’ll need a space big enough to work a shovel into.”

  Pete swung his pickaxe again, knocking out more bricks. They worked at it another fifteen minutes and removed almost all the bricks in the hole.

  “OK, now we dig,” Roy said. “Do you have a shovel, Pete?”

  Pete was breathing heavily from swinging the pickaxe. He walked into his workroom to retrieve the shovel. Steven looked at Roy.

  “One of us uses the shovel, the other keeps an eye on him,” Steven whispered to Roy. At first Roy was going to protest, but he thought for a moment and then shook his head in agreement.

  When Pete returned with the shovel, Steven stuck out his hand to take it and Pete passed it to him. It just fit between the studs, and Steven began piling shovelfuls of dirt in another area of the room. He worked at it for several minutes, building up a sweat. He dug straight into the dirt, and after he created a hole about two feet wide and two feet deep, he expected the dirt at the top of the hole to start collapsing, but it didn’t. The deeper he dug, the more he expected a collapse. Just as he was about to ask Pete and Roy to think up a way to bolster the top of the hole, his shovel hit metal.

  Each of the three men in the room looked at each other. Then a smile spread to all of their faces.

  Steven used the shovel to dig around the metal object, and after a few minutes he was able to dislodge it from the hole in the wall. It was a tin box, square, about a foot wide. It was heavier than he expected. He placed it down in the middle of the room.

  “Open it!” Pete said. “Let’s see!”

  Steven pried open the tin lid of the box. Inside were two bags. Each was about the size of two fists balled together. They were both tied closed with twine. Steven removed one of the bags and held it up for the others to see.

  Roy stepped up to the bag and inspected it. “‘Klamath Mining Company,’ just like Robert said.”

  “Should I untie it?” Steven asked.

  “Wait,” Roy said. “We need to transfer the contents to something else, as Robert instructed. Pete, could we ask you for a few more baggies like the one you gave us yesterday in the south wing?”

  Pete’s eyes were as wide as saucers. “Sure!” he said, and left Steven and Roy to go upstairs.

  “So far so good,” Roy said after he left.

  “He may not try anything, but let’s just be ready if he does,” Steven said.

  “I’m always ready,” Roy said. “You’re the one I worry about in that regard.”

  “Don’t worry,” Steven said. “If he tries anything, I won’t second-guess myself. I’ll take him down.”

  “Just be careful,” Roy said. “Don’t misjudge his actions and create a problem where none exists.”

  They could hear Pete coming back down the stairs. He worked his way through the basement rooms and joined them, breathing heavy. He raised his arm, holding a handful of plastic Ziploc bags.

  “OK,” Roy said. “Pete, can you hold open one of those bags while Steven pours the contents into it? We have to be careful and not spill any of it, or Robert will not come through for us.”

  Pete got down on one knee next to him as Steven untied the twine on the bag he was holding. He positioned the canvas bag over Pete’s open baggie and slowly tipped it over. The contents flowed from Steven’s bag into the clear baggie in Pete’s hands.

  “Would you look at that!” Pete said. “Sure looks like gold to me!”

  They stopped and switched to a new baggie as the current one filled up. One canvas bag filled two of the Ziploc baggies. Steven shook and inspected the empty canvas bag to be sure they had emptied it completely.

  They repeated the process and wound up with four Ziploc baggies full of tiny glittering nuggets. Steven placed them back into the tin box.

  “Pete, do you have a way we could burn these bags?”

  Pete left the room once more and returned with lighter fluid and a book of matches. He took the two bags and tossed them into the hole in the wall, then squirted a stream of fluid onto them. He lit a match and tossed it in. The bags began to burn and the smoke rose up out of the hole.

  “When I refill that hole, I’ll leave the ashes in there,” Pete said. They watched the bags burning for a moment. “Shouldn’t you two get that gold where it belongs? The sooner it’s out of here the better I’ll feel.”

  “Right,” Steven said, picking up the tin box.

  “I’ll let you out the same door,” Pete said. “Don’t worry about this mess, I’ll fill the hole back in and get the bricks back in place, then I’ll patch the drywall. Sarah will never know.”

  Pete led them to the basement door and opened it for them. “Will you let me know how it goes?” he asked Roy.

  “Sure,” Roy said. “I’ll call you as soon as we’ve delivered it.”

  “Thank you,” Pete said. “I hope this settles it.”

  “So do I,” said Roy.

  Chapter Ten

  Roy drove as Steven searched for Amy Maysill on his phone. He found her and mapped to her home. “She lives a few blocks from the cemetery,” Steven said.

  “Probably walks to it to maintain the gravesites,” Roy said.

  “What are we going to tell her about this?” Steven said. “I know if someone showed up at my house and said, ‘Here’s a shitload of gold for you,’ I’d have questions.”

  “We’ll tell her the truth,” Roy replied, “but omit some parts. A recently discovered will of her ancestor disclosed the location of this treasure, and directed that it go to his descendants.”

  “There could be dozens of his descendants living,” Steven said. “Why her?”

  “She doesn’t need to know this is any more than her share,” Roy said.

  “What if she knows other members of the family?”

  “I don’t know, I’ll make something up,” Roy said.

  Steven directed Roy through a series of turns until they stopped at a small house in a run down area. Most of the houses were poorly tended, with unmowed lawns and patches of weeds. Amy’s house was the cleanest on the block; you could tell the yard was attended, and although the house was modest it looked cared-for.

  “Here goes,” Roy said, stopping the car on the street in front of the house. Steven removed the tin box from the trunk and they walked to the door. Roy knocked.

  A short woman in her mid-thirties answered the door. She was wearing the uniform of a fast food chain. She looked tired.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Mrs. Amy Maysill?” Roy said.

  She looked suspicious. “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’m Ben Yates and this is—” he motioned to Steven “—Henny Youngman, and we’re from the law offices of your family estate. We’re acting on behalf of the will of Robert Maysill, an ancestor of yours. We have an item here that you’ve inherited.”

  He really is good at this, Steven thought.

  She squinted her eyes. “Inherited?”

 

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