Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

I’m Lieutenant Deviled Yeggs.  I work homicide in the big city of Tracy.  Working for me are my old partners: Detective Sgt. Jim Wednesday and Detective Poached Yeggs, my nephew who is slowly becoming a good detective.

But maybe the best detective is my daughter, Sophia.  Sophia put this report in my laptop case and said it was for my eyes only and she just wanted to talk about it.  It is a first-person, Sophia report, but maybe not her best effort – a learning experience.

We went to the gargoyle house to learn about the ghosts who once lived there.  We had a small all-female gathering in their breakfast area.  The huge house looked spooky with no customers there.  They had a fire going in the fireplace and they had an old bear skin rug in front of the fireplace, a safe distance away.  Otherwise, everything was set up in a mix of Amish Christmas decorations and a big tree in the corner, an artificial one that they bought at the local hardware store.  With all the real evergreen in the room, it got us in the Christmas mood.

Hannah asked me to bring high school aged girls and college girls.  It did not matter whether they were married or not.  Mrs. Danville was going to tell the origins of the gargoyle house and the story of when the house was haunted.  I brought Jemima and B.B. to see if the story might make a nice episode on their television network.  As it turned out, probably not, but they were going to talk about the gargoyles and how that part of home building has changed.  Some of the college ladies did not want to come, but Tammie and Tamara came along.  As for the high school crowd, I got Margie, Menzie, Arabella, and Sarah.  That made eight of us, Margie and I doing the driving.  But Hannah had her four ladies.  She also had Jedidiah’s wife attend, and Mrs. Danville had both Glenda and Aurelia there.  And Edna and Bonnie came up from the County Line Farm.  That made eighteen women to hear Mrs. Danville’s story.  Paddy made himself scarce, I think spending the evening with Jedidiah and their children.

We had apple pie from the community, some cheese curd, and a veggie tray.

Mrs. Danville started, “I thank all of you for coming tonight.  I grew up here on County Line Road when the road had just been paved, and the side roads were gravel roads.  I was born here, and my maiden name was Holly Harris.  I was a bit of a wild child growing up, but I made good grades in school.  I just did not apply myself until I got to college.  I was boy crazy, but enough about me.”

Mrs. Danville smiled, “I am so glad you found the bear skin rug.  I was afraid it would have been thrown out long ago.  It plays a part in my story.  The foundation of this house has been around for a very long time.  Over one hundred years ago, the Houston’s bought the property.  Harry Houston was a financial wizard, making himself filthy rich, but also many people in Tracy benefited from his advice.  Harry and his bride Lily moved in here after a major rebuild of the property.  They went to Europe on their honeymoon and returned with six gargoyles.  The contractors argued that they had already built the roof drainage system and gargoyles were outdated.  Houston insisted that they be installed just for the look of eccentricity and opulence.  The only water that comes out of the mouths of the gargoyles is what rains into them.  But the gargoyles made a statement, being the only rich people with an opulent mansion with gargoyles.  It definitely started the gossip going.  The Houstons had ten servants, all young, all female.  They had three in the kitchen, four counting the scullery maid.  They had a laundress and a gardener.  And then four maids with one of the downstairs maids that would act as the butler, as I said, all female.  They built all the upstairs rooms because they envisioned a huge family, but Lily was unable to have children as it turned out.  He was an investment banker.  She was a travelling cosmetics representative for the big manufacturer in Tracy.  She would be away on the train for one-week or two-week trips, teaching the retailers how to apply the cosmetics and how to sell it.  Harry rarely left the house, having investment news brought to him at the house.”

Mrs. Danville leaned back in her chair, “This worked fine until Harry was crunching numbers late one night and Darla, one of the maids, brought him some tea and promptly spilled it in his lap.  In the commotion that followed, she tried sopping up the tea with a towel and he started making excuses and reassuring her everything was okay.  But as she rubbed his groin, to clean his trousers, something happened.  They both started stepping back and apologizing, but then Darla began to cry.  Harry hugged her to console her, but before he released the embrace, they were kissing.  One thing led to another, and he slept with Darla.  The next night, Jeanie came in with the tea, and she asked if she would have to spill the tea to get the same treatment Darla received.  By now, he knew Darla had told the other servants.  All ten wanted to have their turn.  On weekdays, the servants serviced their master and by Christmas six of the servants were obviously pregnant, but the woman who hired them was barren.”

Mrs. Danville looked around to see that everyone was tuned into the story.  “The next part of the story could only be imagined.  No one knew what happened, but Harry Houston went missing.  They think his body is somewhere on the premises, but they have done an extensive search.  Lily was thought to have murdered him.  He disappeared about one hundred years ago, about this time of year.  Lily was able to live off the money he had left her.  The investments were still bringing in money, and she never quit her job.  The six pregnant servants had their children here in the building.  Lily needed the servants to help, just as before, but with everyone along County Line Road thinking that she was a murderess, she did not host parties anymore.  But Harry Houston disappeared from this house one hundred years ago.  But can anyone tell me what happened four years after his disappearance?”

Margie nodded, “The stock market crash of 1929.  If Lily still had all her money in stocks, she was probably ruined.”

Mrs. Danville said, “You get an extra slice of pie, my dear.  She wrote a note that she was greatly remorseful.  Her husband was gone, never admitting that she killed him.  She was angry at him, and she was jealous of her servants.  They had children and she did not.  Now, she had nothing.  And then she hung herself in this very room.”

Everyone started looking up to see where she might have used a rope.

Hannah asked, “Is it her ghost that haunts the house?”

Mrs. Danville replied, “Do not worry. This house is no longer haunted.  I wanted to save that for the end, but I have not even gotten to the haunting part.  Since there was not enough money to run the household and the mistress had committed suicide, the house was eventually picked up by the city of Tracy for back taxes, that is the county officials downtown, before Tracy became the entire county.  The servants had all trickled out.  Some married.  Some moved in with their parents.  In the late seventies or early eighties, people had moved into the house to try to make it a boarding house, but the financials were not there.  The roads into the city were not multilane highways.  People wanted to be closer to town.  Each time that a business failed in this house, the city reclaimed the property for back taxes.  Not to worry there either in that people have even longer commutes, and this area is generally safe and quiet.  I think the boarding house will catch on.  But some of the people in the house said they heard strange bumps in the night.  And when I was not quite a teenager, a full story developed.  Someone said that the ghost of Harry Houston roamed the house looking for a fair maiden to sleep with and take his pain away.”

There were gasps around the room.

Mrs. Danville nodded, “By the time I got to high school, the ghost story had morphed into something tangible.  The fair maiden was to take hot chamomile tea with her into the house.  Only one girl, at least eighteen years of age.  There would be a tea table, illuminated by a candle with a single empty tea cup.  You were to pour the tea into the awaiting cup and drink it.  Then you sat on the loveseat and waited for the ghost to appear and make love to you, right here on the bear skin rug.  Since this was a ghost, how could you lose your virginity, but most girls would not dare even attempt it.  Then, one girl said that she would do it.  The ghost only appeared on Friday night.  The front door would lock as soon as the single girl entered this room.  She poured the tea, drank it, sat on the loveseat, and when she awoke, she was naked.  There was a fire in the fireplace.  The bear skin rug was where it is now.  And then, across the room she saw the ghost appear.  The ghost glowed and sparkled.  The ghost never said a word.  He moaned and pointed to his face, that was barely half of a face.  His eyes were sunken, the mouth had black lips.  He first pointed to his lips and then pointed to various parts of her naked body.  He did this pantomime until the girl nodded her head.  He always did what she wanted, but the options became fewer until she nodded that she wanted the ghost to have his way with her.  He was gentle.  He was kind.  And he was a great lover.  Not knowing how the cup of tea had been refilled, he offered her a cup of tea after they had their climax.  She again fell asleep, awakening after the sun had risen.  Even though she had not gotten dressed, she was now fully dressed.  She grabbed her insulated cup and went home, only realizing later that the ghost had shaved her down below.  She laughed.  She knew that would grow back.  When this girl told her friends about how he was willing to do anything and was very polite, her friends all wanted to have their turn.  One each Friday, the first girl had told them everything except for the shaving.  When she was confronted about that, she shrugged it off.  It got itchy, but it grew back.  When more than one girl showed up, the front door did not lock, and the ghost never appeared.  But then a nerdy girl that did not quite fit in with the rest of the friends went to the house.  Everything was the same.  But once she was back home, late Saturday afternoon, she doubled over in pain.  Her parents asked her what was wrong, and she confessed to having an affair with a ghost the night before.  She was not at her friend’s house as she had said.  She was the only girl to ever let the parents know.  She was convinced that she was pregnant with the ghost’s baby.  She had appendicitis as it turned out.  She was not pregnant with a ghost baby, but now the truth had come out.  There was no law on the County Line in those days, so they sent a female officer out from Tracy to this house the next Friday to trick the ghost into appearing and she could arrest the ghost.  Nelly, the police officer, returned the next Monday to the office and said that there was no ghost in the house, but she tried the same thing three more times.  She then announced that she and the pharmacist at the county line were getting married, a quickie thing with the justice of the peace.  So, Stan Jefferson and his wife Nelly had a child almost nine months later.”

I laughed, “Okay, this Stan Jefferson character raped a bunch of girls.  Then, Nelly, the police officer, must have figured it out and became his regular conquest until she got pregnant.  No ghost at all.”

Mrs. Danville huffed, “I heard you were a good detective, but you have no evidence.  This was just a ghost story, and Mr. Jefferson helped pay my way through pharmacy school.  I came back here when my husband was found in bed with two of my girlfriends, at the same time.  Mr. Jefferson hired me and within five years, he handed me the keys and said the business was mine.  He and Nelly had five children, pillars of the community here.  No one had a bad word to say about him.  He died last year, and Nelly is still one of my best friends.  So, please, make no accusations in public.  I think every girl that went to this house and had sex on that bear skin rug still cherishes the experience.  It needs to be left a ghost story.”

We had fun finishing off the refreshments.  Everyone had to get on the bear skin rug to feel what it must have felt like.  But then we all went our separate ways.

The End.  But Daddy, we need to talk.

Now, I will pick up the narrative.  Oddly, I was sipping a cup of chamomile tea when Sophie came into the den.  The television had never been turned on.  I was simply sitting in my spot, reading an old police record.

Sophie asked, “Daddy, did you read the report?  What should we do about it?”

I asked, “What should we do about what?  It was a ghost story.  Nothing could be used in court, since it was at least secondhand testimony.”

Sophie’s eyes glistened, “But Daddy, all those young women who are now in middle age years, traumatized for having been raped.”

I smiled, “I read your report, and you were the only one that said anything about rape.”

Sophie said, “Daddy, I thought you would see what I saw in the story.  He did something to the cup to provide a date rape drug.  I checked.  They had such things then, and the police were just starting to piece the practice together.  So, the girls had diminished faculties, and he took advantage of them.  I need to stand up for women here, Daddy.”

I sighed, “I have told you in the past that you must have proof.  No one confiscated the used cup.  We have nothing in evidence.  And you are ignoring everything else in the story.”

Sophie asked, “What did I miss?”

I held up one finger, “How did the girls get to the bear skin rug, and why were they there?”

Sophie’s eyes widened.  “The ghost did not force them there.  They heard a story about a ghost that wanted to do the nasty, and they went there.”

“And what did they take with them?” I asked.

Sophie sighed, “The chamomile tea, otherwise, the ghost would not appear.”

I leaned closer, “You never answered the question about why they went to the house.”

Sophie groaned, “They wanted to have sex with the ghost.  And if there was a date rape drug, their intent was long before they took the drug.  But all of what you said is how the defense lawyer would get him off.”

I sighed, “But there is more, Sophie.  How did they determine what they would do and in what order they would do it?”

Sophie gave me her pouty face, “He went through the pantomime.  The ghost did nothing unless the girl asked for it to be done.  So, it almost seems like they raped the ghost.  They weren’t the aggressor, but neither was he.  If there was no date rape drug, then everything was consensual.  The girls were eighteen or older.  But what about Nelly?  She went there to make an arrest, not to have sex.  And she ended up pregnant.  Unless she was sleeping with the pharmacist on the side and he is not the ghost.  But Daddy, we do not believe in coincidences.”

I smiled, “I picked up the old file that was marked closed, no evidence of a crime.  It has a confession by Nelly Jefferson in it.  I can give you the rest of the story, as Paul Harvey used to say.”

Sophie folded her arms, defeated.  She asked, “Who’s he?”

I smiled, “He was a radio personality.  He reported some of the most unusual stories, and he would paint one story that everyone thought they might believe, but then, he would say something like, ‘and that is what everyone thought until they heard the rest of the story.’  Then they’d break for a commercial.  And then, Paul Harvey would say, ‘And now for the rest of the story.’  I may not have that right.  I did not listen to his program, but millions around the country did, and his ‘Rest of the Story’ is a cautionary tale for policemen.  You better know the alternate way of seeing the facts before the defense attorney makes you look like a fool.”

I leaned back, “Nelly lied.  She went to the house four Fridays in a row.  The ghost, or as you correctly determined, Stan Jefferson, was a pharmacist.  He used no date rape drug.  Except for Nelly, they all wanted to consummate the deal.  It would have been a waste of a good Friday night without that.  He took a knockout pill.  He crushed it in a mortar and pestle.  He mixed the drug with a little water and painted the powder inside the cup so that it looked empty.  It would dissolve as soon as the tea went into the cup.  Nelly checked the cup.  She even turned the cup over and tapped it.  Nothing came out.  So, Nelly poured the tea and then drank it.  She sat on the loveseat, confident that she would make her arrest.  She fell asleep.”

I continued, “Nelly awoke some time later.  She was naked, sitting in the same position as when she fell asleep.  But she had not heard about the pantomime.  She was thinking that he would grab her and place her on the bear skin rug and have his way with her.  But without seeing any eyes nor lips, he pantomimed that he wanted to start with a kiss.  Nelly did not respond.  She was off her game.  She expected an aggressor.  Rape is a crime of violence.  This ghost was gentle.  And by the way, the medical tests on the nerdy girl was that she had consensual sex, and tiny particles of glitter and luminous paint were found where those things should not be.  That is how he glowed and sparkled in the dark and then the fire light.  The shaving was probably to cut down on trace evidence if he was caught.  But back to Nelly, she shook her head and then pointed to her lips.  She wanted to start this with a kiss.  At this point, Nelly was a uniformed officer, but she had been used by Vice as a decoy, a lure, whatever.  She pretended to be a street walker at times, but deep down, she just wanted to be loved.  They did the deed twice that night.  No fancy positions.  No looking through the Kama Sutra for something unusual.  Then she drank the tea again, waking up after he had carefully put her clothing back on her.  And she was too embarrassed to say that she let him get away.”

Sophie asked, “But she went back four straight weeks.”

I nodded, “She knew that her return the next Friday night would probably end with the ghost not appearing.  She had never heard of a repeat customer.  But the cup was there and when she awoke, the same ghost and the same pantomime.  But this time, she talked with him, but he still was not talking.  She talked about the nerdy girl and how she wanted to be accepted by the cool girls and now Nelly was there to investigate and make an arrest.  At that point, Stan said something other than his usual grunts.  He said that he had been obsessed all week.  He felt something different with her.  The young girls were the cool girls in school who would never give the studious nerd the time of day.  Even with the small high school along the county line road, they had their clique of cool girls.  He had seen them at his pharmacy, making knowing glances and gossiping about their conquests.  He had heard the ghost story, and he eavesdropped to get every detail correct.  But there was something about the nerdy girl.  She was too eager and she did not fit the profile.  But Nelly definitely did not fit.  He wanted her to return so that he could find out what he had done wrong.  He found the badge and cuffs in her purse the first Friday night.  But he also knew that she did not show them.  He wanted to take the chance.  So, they again laid down on the bear skin rug.  Nelly asked him what the naughty cool girls had wanted to do.  Nelly drew the line at some things, but they tried a few positions that seemed interesting.  He had not given his name, but he was careless.  He said the cool girls frequented his pharmacy, not the pharmacy where he worked.”

Sophie gasped, “So, now she had him, but she fell in love with him.  Right?”

I shook my head, “Sophie, we went through this.  There was no rape.  All the girls directed the activities that they did.  There was no date rape drug.  And it was just spooky consensual activities.  But yes, they had both fallen in love.  She even went with her partner in her uniform to the pharmacy the next Monday afternoon.  She went to the back and tapped the bell so that the pharmacist would come to the window.  She smiled, while he looked like he might fall over with a heart attack.  She asked him where a good cop could find a donut this late in the day.  He recovered to laugh.  He turned to go back to work on the next prescription, but she stopped him.  She licked a finger and rubbed behind his ear.  She whispered that she thought she saw a bit of glitter.  He smiled and said one word as a question.  ‘Friday?’  Nelly said, ‘same time, same place.’  And before you say she was being paid overtime to have sex with a ghost, she had insisted she was going to return to the house on her own time.  Tracy police only paid for the first night.  But she was persistent.  She came back to the pharmacy at quitting time that Wednesday.  She suggested dinner and something to do.  He said the only thing to do was illegal gambling dens or the prayer meeting at the church, a church he did not attend.  They opted for the prayer meeting and a nice dinner.  He then took her home with him.  Well, she followed him home.  Stan Jefferson lived in the rich adjacent area, as Carla says.  He had a house and a lot of acres, which his parents subdivided, getting rich themselves in the process.  And she left from there the next morning to come to work.  They still met at the gargoyle house that Friday.  He still wore his ghost costume.  But somehow, neither one of them wanted to consummate the third trip to the ghost house.  They talked about their future.  Then they met at his house a couple of nights the next week and he gave her a pregnancy test kit.  While the cool girls had protection, Nelly did not.  When Nelly started her trips to the gargoyle house, he was going to get rough.  She was going to get rougher and cuff him.  Why have protection?  They had celebratory copulation on the bear skin rug, and then she helped him remove any evidence that either of them had been trespassing.  The house was between owners, and the city owned it due to no taxes being paid, as usual.”

Sophie asked, “So, based on the perpetrator’s testimony, the case was dropped.  If anything, he was guilty of breaking and entering or trespassing.  But if he had raped those girls, where is the justice?”

I smiled, “Sophie, he married a cop.  He had some psychological hangup that led to this charade.  He never was unfaithful to Nelly.  They both became members of the little church along the County Line Road.  And what good would sending him to prison accomplish?  The County Line Road might lose its only pharmacy.  He was in a situation where he would be in big trouble if he made a mistake.  His wife carried a weapon.  He was reformed.  The prison would have been a less conducive environment for that reform.  Yes, the prison keeps someone who might be dangerous off the streets, but they have a poor record when it comes to reforming the person to be a productive member of society.  GrandPa was using the prison as a safe place to hide.  Thou, your grandfather, got great advice from your mother and he adjusted to his new job in no time at all.  And Otto had to take classes with Zuzka teaching them before he was no longer Rotten.”

Sophie giggled, “Yeah, the ‘r’ and the ‘n’ are silent, but they have changed his name at the courthouse.  And Hannah Bandanna is on parole.  And she is pretty much proving what her defense failed to convince the jury of, that she was temporarily insane.  Okay, I surrender, Daddy, there were no cases of rape at the gargoyle house.  Nelly is a pillar of the community.  But I am curious, was Mrs. Danville the nerdy girl in the ghost story?”

I laughed, “No, Sweetie.  She was the first girl to sleep with the ghost.  She said she was a wild child.  She was either brave or foolhardy.  But after Stan Jefferson married Nelly, Stan convinced Mrs. Danville to become a pharmacist, and he provided some of the funding and eventually gave her his business.  The other girls were helped in little ways, a couple of them bailed out of jail by Mr. Jefferson.  Mrs. Danville sent the retired couple a percentage of the profits each year.  And another thing about Nelly, she was the detective who welcomed me to the ranks of detective.  She mentored me in running an investigation and how to do all the paperwork.  She is a woman of note in Tracy.  She was the first woman to achieve the rank of detective and detective sergeant.  She retired early to spend more time with her five children.  Even if you had a case for wrongdoing, Stan is deceased, and Nelly and her children would be the ones harmed by the notoriety.  I would not want that to happen.”

Sophie smiled and nodded, “I wouldn’t want that to happen either.”

Credits

Gargoyles were decorative, but they had purpose.  The rain on the roof would be gathered by gutters and directed to the gargoyle.  The gargoyle had an extended face (usually) a few feet out from the eave of the house.  The water would spew from the gargoyle spout, usually the mouth, and land some distance from the side of the house.  With the lawn sloped away from the house, the rainwater that landed on a house with gargoyles would fall a sufficient distance from the house to prevent water damage to the house foundation.

When they invented a better gutter system with downspouts that went into a storm drain, the safety to the house foundation was increased.  And the gutter system was much cheaper than the gargoyles.  Oddly, since I grew up in the South, most houses had no gutters and those that did have gutters had downspouts that poured water a few feet away from the house foundation, just like the gargoyles.  But very few houses in the South have basements, most recently built homes have a concrete slab, thus much less susceptible to foundation damage from water pooling around the side of the house.

At the Gargoyle House, there is a gutter system, so the only water that spews from the gargoyle’s mouths is the rain that falls on the gargoyle.

I listened to Paul Harvey when I was a teenager.  Yes, I was a strange kid, maybe weird, but I liked getting “fooled” and then learning what his moral story was (in many cases), finding out “the rest of the story” regardless.

And I wanted Sophia to fall into a trap in thinking there was a criminal case when there was no evidence of criminality, except for trespassing in a haunted house claimed by the city for back taxes.  That gave her Dad the opportunity to talk about not jumping to conclusions.

Even if we think we know the story, our “friend” might have extenuating circumstances.  In those types of things, especially with no witnesses, we should never judge.  But we can still love that friend.