Background:  My name is Beth and I am a Professional Psychic and Ghost Investigator.  In Part 1, the manager of a video rental establishment in my neighborhood contacted me about poltergeist phenomenon in his store.  We arranged a meeting for the next day.  

Pulling into the parking lot of the video establishment, I spend several minutes slowing down my breathing and unclenching my hands. Now that I am here, I know it is the right thing for me to be doing, but that does not quash the anxiety roiling around in my stomach.

One of the 'side effects' of being  empathetic and intutive is that the emotions of my clients attach themselves to me, often physically as well as psychically. Judging by the intense sensations of panic and fear I am experiencing right now, It is possible I am heading into a dangerous situation especially since I have yet to pinpoint whether the source of the feelings is living or dead.

Grabbing my tool kit - consisting of a tape recorder for notes on the case and my rosary from a Marian apparition site in Yugoslavia -  I head into the store. A bell booms out rattling me further. I never noticed it sounding as loud on my previous trips into the store. A few feet inside the door, a strong energy passes through my body;  for a moment the air seems thinner, like being at a higher elevation. The impression is fleeting and then lifts, leaving me chilled. 

No one appears to be around except for the middle-aged man behind the counter. I see him here quite a bit, so I assume he is the one who made the call. Still, it is important to be discreet. Looking him directly in the eye, I say, "I have an appointment to meet with the manager today at 1 P.M. Is he available?"

He turns red immediately. "I'm the Manager, what can I do for you?" Okay James Bond, we'll play it your way. I put my hand out to shake saying, "My name is Beth. I received a call from a gentleman who said he was the manager of this store. He asked me to come by today."

Pointedly ignoring my outstretched hand, he motions with his head somewhere in the direction of the back of the store. "Let's talk in my office."

The 'office' turns out to be a  storage area. While I search for a clean place to sit down, the man launches into his story. "I'm not saying that what's happening around here can't be explained by coincidences or overactive imaginations; enough of my employees have reported the same things, that I've got to take this seriously."

Examining his cuticles, he says, "You should know up front that I won't be able to pay you anything because the owners absolutely cannot know that I've called you."       

"What's your name?"  He looks up sharply at my simple question. "I like to know the names of the live people I'll be working with."  My lame attempt at humor has the effect I'm hoping for. Grinning slightly he says, "My name is Gregg. 

"Okay, Great!  Nice to meet you." I put out my hand once again and this time he shakes it. "Here's how it works with me. I don't charge for this particular type of service. Helping to release earthbound souls is a sacred calling for me."  At his look of utter confusion, I rephrase in simpler terms, "Dead souls don't earn get-into-heaven points by hanging around scaring people. I try to nicely convince them to give the afterlife a try." 

Now, this is an analogy he understands. "I'm afraid that what's been happening here could be, um, supernatural. The female employees all feel like someone is standing just behind them, but when they turn around no one is there. Their hair gets yanked; and there's an area in the corner of the store near the overhead T.V. monitor that everyone says gives them the creeps."

Looking embarrassed again, he continues, "I have to admit that I've come in to open in the morning and have found lights on and the door unlocked. I'm the only one who closes, so I know I did not leave the store in that condition." 

"As you know, this is a small community; word is getting around among the kids looking for jobs that this place is haunted. I can't find replacements for the ones who are quitting either - some of them after only a few days."  

First things first. "Listen, Gregg. I'm not going to guarantee that I'll be able to take care of this problem of yours. Ghosts have free will. I can only tell you what I receive telepathically, and we can go from there." He is looking confused again.

"I'm going to have a little chat with whoever is hanging around, ask them what's up, and let you know what I find out. Sound like a plan?" Ah, the gleam of comprehension once again. "You just take care of the customers that come in, and I'll nonchalantly stroll around the aisles and see what I can pick up." 

Several people are milling around the store, so I act like I am studying the videos taking care not to get too close to them as I psychically open up my senses.  Within fifteen minutes, I feel I have the information I need. Signalling that I am ready to talk, I head to the 'office' to wait. Help has arrived in the person of a young woman by the name of Tina, so Gregg leaves her to watch the desk and joins me.

"There is a strong spirit in this store who is telepathically communicating with me that his name is Steve.. He says he was murdered and that it had to do with drugs." Gregg's face appears to be draining of its color, but I choose to ignore the fact and forge ahead, "Does any of this make any sense to you? Did you have a young man of about nineteen, who worked here at one time that ended up murdered over drugs?"

Truly alarmed now by the man's pallor, I guide him into a chair. "Is this some kind of sick joke?" he croaks out, "My former brother-in-law's name was Steve. He was found dead at the age of nineteen in an alley in Amsterdam last year. The cops over there never really did much to find the killers, just figured it was a drug deal gone bad. How did you get hold of that information?"

Miffed at being all-but accused of perpetrating some sort of con, I am ready to walk out of the store, leaving old Gregg to deal with the problem alone. But I make one last attempt to get through. 

"I am simply reporting to you the facts as they are being projected into my mind by the spirit who is haunting your store. That spirit tells me his name is Steve and that he's very angry that no one in his family is pressing the police to catch his murderers and see that they are punished. He wants justice."

I do not see any reason to share some of the other things that Steve is showing me - the hell of living and re-living his death, a narrow cobblestoned alley, dim street lamps and blood soaking into the stones. I feel acutely the pain of the young man's sad, short life.       

 "I believe I can help Steve to find peace; that it's the decent and right thing to do. But I'm going to need your trust and complete cooperation. Can I count on you Gregg?"