The Raven and the Poltergeist4

The Raven and the Poltergeist - Part 4

by
N.C. Weber

    "Well, I'll say this much," mused Edgar.  "For someone so young, you've got sense.  Coulda used someone like you in my firm."

    "What kind of firm did you run?" asked Raven out of idle curiosity.

    "Consulting!" announced Edgar proudly.  "I was a business consultant.  I trained young greenhorns how to run a tight ship in the business world."

    Raven couldn't help but smile at such a mixed metaphor.  With Corbie perched upon her shoulder, she headed downstairs to the main foyer.  There she was met by Wentworth who led her to the informal dining room.  Since they had passed the formal dining room along the way, Raven understood why they were using the informal room.  The massive size of the room indicated that at least fifty people could be seated around the ornate, gargantuan dining table.

    "Put a hoop at each end and you could play a decent game of basketball," thought Raven to herself.

    Upon entering the informal dining room, Raven founds the others were already in attendance.  Mrs. Greenly sat at the head of the table.

    "Please, be seated, Ms. Dark," offered Mrs. Greenly.

    Raven took a quick glance around and saw that Mr. Greenly was taking a protective flanking position behind his wife.  She nodded to Mrs. Greenly, and in effect, to Edgar as well, and took her seat.  Mrs. Greenly rang a small bell which had been resting near her right hand.  Without a sound, several servants entered the dining room bearing covered trays.  After setting the trays upon the table in front of the guests, the servants whisked away the covers  revealing a rather hearty breakfast of steak, eggs, hashed potatoes and biscuits.  Another servant appeared close behind pouring orange juice in small tumblers beside each plate.

    Edgar sighed.  "I do wish she wouldn't show off like that."

    The sound of a throat being cleared caught Raven's attention.  Mrs. Greenly glanced meaningfully at Corbie, and Raven was certain she had created a massive faux pas by bringing the bird to the table.

    "Are there any special requirements for your...familiar?" asked Mrs. Greenly.

    Raven blinked in momentary confusion as she had expected to be taken to task over Corbie's presence.  "Oh, just cheese and crackers if you can spare them."

    Mrs. Greenly nodded to an open entranceway, and within a matter of moments, a servant appeared with a small tray of crackers and a small wheel of cheese.  Corbie gave a startled call that sounded almost human in its astonishment.

    "Steady now," muttered Raven under her breath to her friend.

    After the servant set the tray down next to Raven's breakfast, she picked up her butter knife and began to slice the cheese wheel into several small pieces.  When about a third of the wheel was cut, she placed the pieces along with several crackers on her bread plate and placed it about a foot and a half away from her.  Corbie hopped down the length of Raven's arm in budgie fashion and rested upon the tale next to the plate of cut cheese.  He picked up a piece and began to nibble a it fastidiously.  After reaching for a cracker, Corbie glanced sideways at the remainder of the cheese wheel.

    "Don't even think it," warned Raven.  "What I gave you is more than enough.  There's no need to be greedy."

    Corbie opened his beak as if to make a retort but, apparently, thought better of it.  He closed his beak, shrugged his wings and began to nibble on a cracker.  When Raven returned her attention back to the table, it was to find the unsettling stares of the other diners.

    "I swear he could almost understand you," marveled Rose.

    "You may begin," announced Mrs. Greenly as she picked up her own fork and began to eat.  The others followed her lead and tucked into their food.  Dawson had unfolded his napkin and tucked a corner into his collar making an ersatz bib.

    "Must we eat with that beast at the table?" remarked Ratford.

    Corbie, in mid bite of another piece of cheese, looked directly at Ratford and cawed.

    "I'd be careful what I say in front of him if I were you," cautioned Raven.  "You're already on his..."  Raven paused.  She didn't want to swear in front of Mrs. Greenly.  "...black list," she finished.

    "You don't impress me," sneered Ratford.  "I know all about you animal handlers.  You're giving him some kind of subtle body cues that we aren't aware of to guide him.  This is all some clever act."

    Raven decided to turn the tables on him.  "So, why is such a scientifically minded person like yourself dabbling in the supernatural?"

    Ratford stopped with his fork hovering just before his open mouth.  Dawson, too, seemed unsettled by her question.  Ratford looked at Raven suspiciously for a few moments before deciding to answer.  "I have been studying these curious phenomena that everyone refers to as ghosts or spirits.  In my opinion, they are nothing more than forms of energy being released from the earth.  I intend to find out what the cause of this unknown energy is through scientific analysis and study."

    "Ha!  I know his type," growled Edgar Greenly.  "Won't accept something's real unless it smacks him across the head."  To prove his point, he proceeded to slap Ratford across the back of his skull only to have his fingers pass right through the man's head.  "Dang!  Forgot about that."

    Raven did her best to suppress the laughter she was dying to let loose.  Ratford mistook her expression for derision against his beliefs.  "Mock me if you must," he snarled.  "But I'll go a lot farther in unraveling the mystery than you charlatans."

    Mrs. Greenly slapped her hand on the table.  "Mr. Ratford you go too far!"  She looked around the table at all of her guests.  "Honestly, if you cannot discuss things peaceably at the table, then you don't say anything at all."

    "That's tellin' 'em, my dear," said Edgar rather smugly.  "Once Constance gets her dander up, you can pretty much kiss your keisters good-bye."

    Raven hoped to salvage the situation.  "I apologize for my poor timing, Mr. Ratford.  I was thinking of someone else who is similarly inclined, though perhaps more open minded.  Dr. Pedimont always said that science doesn't explain everything, but it does cover a lot of ground."

    Ratford sat bolt upright as if he had sat on a thumb tack at the beginning of breakfast but only now was realizing the pain.  "Did you say Pedimont?"

    Raven hadn't expected the genuine surprise in Ratford's voice.  She began to wonder if mentioning her employer's name was such a good idea.  "Er...yes.  Dr. Oslo Pedimont."

    "You mean, you know Dr. Pedimont?" asked Ratford incredulously.

    "Well, mostly," admitted Raven.  "Truth is I work for him.  I don't think anyone can really get to know Dr. Pedimont."

    Ratford heaved a pained sigh as he placed a hand over his eyes.  "Yep, that sounds like Oslo, alright."  Ratford regained his composure and sat up straight once more.  "So, Oslo sent you here, did he?"

    "Oh no," assured Raven.  "This is my own doing.  I'm a freelancer.  Sure, I help Drs. Pedimont and Haversham with their work when they need me.  But jobs like this are what I do."

    "Haversham?" queried Ratford.  "Phoebe Haversham?"

    "Uhm, yes, I believe that's Dr. Haversham's first name," admitted Raven.  "You know her, too?"

    "So, she finally caught up with him," mused Ratford more to himself than to anyone else at the table.  "Good ol' Phoebs."

    Raven saw a look on Ratford's face.  One that bespoke of an opportunity he had lost a long time ago.  She cleared her throat, which had the desired effect of bringing Ratford back to the present moment.

    "Well, perhaps when you see them next, you'll let them know that their old friend Eric is doing hale and hearty."

    Raven nodded.  "I'll be sure to pass along the message."

    Conversation had effectively halted at this point, and everyone seemed to be preoccupied with their own thoughts.  Raven became immediately aware that Corbie had been stealthily making his way toward the remainder of the cheese wheel during her intense debate with Ratford.  She snatched up the tray and placed it on the opposite side of her breakfast plate.  Corbie looked at Raven, sniffed in disdain and turned his back to her.

    Raven heard a stifled snicker.  She glanced up and was just quick enough to catch Mrs. Greenly covering her face with her napkin as if to wipe her mouth.  When she removed the napkin, her face was a picture of somber serenity, but she couldn't hide the sparkle of laughter that remained in her eyes.  Raven was relieved to see that Mrs. Greenly wasn't as prim and proper as she led on to be.  Still, she would have to work hard to gain her trust.

    "Well, now," began Mrs. Greenly clearing her throat once more.  "How did your reading turn out, Mrs. Whitham?"

    Raven half expected Rose Whitham to go on about how she used her powers using meaningless jargon.  "Well, unfortunately, I couldn't make any contact," she said in a dramatically defeated tone.  "Spirits tend to be quite mobile, especially in a large house like this.  He wasn't in the study as you reported last time."

    "Ha!  You crook!" challenged Edgar.  He made for a grab at Rose's arm, but his hand passed right through.  Raven shook her head slightly.  Even when a spirit knows that it is no longer among the living, it still had a tendency to think as if it were alive.

    Rose shivered visibly.  "Is there a draft?  I feel a chill all of a sudden."

    Raven arched an eyebrow.  It would seem that Rose had some powers of spirit detection after all, although very weak.  Ratford certainly seemed to have the proper connections of a true etheriologist.  Perhaps there was more to these people than their first impressions had implicated the day before.  That only left the lumbering Dawson.  He didn't seem to have anything going for him other than brute strength.  He wasn't too bright, and he didn't seem like the type to take an interest in much of anything much less the supernatural.  So far, he was the odd man out.  Raven would have to keep a close watch on Mr. Dawson.

Part Five

Back to Part One