PREVIOUSLY:

The man leaned in close enough for Mike to smell the liquor on his breath. "If it were up to me, you people wouldn't be allowed to step a foot inside the place. But it ain't up to me." The dog growled in response to its master's tone of voice. "Follow me up the road and you'll see my cottage just beyond the gate."

Mike's concentrated effort to navigate the difficult terrain was interrupted by Luke.

"I think we can consider this guy a hostile witness. We're probably wasting our time interviewing him. Why don't we go directly to the manor and start investigating now since we have the owner's permission?"

"Mia, you've said it's important that we talk to the caretaker," Mike responded. "Do you still feel that way?"

"More than ever. That man has much to answer for, and I sense he's being manipulated by some of the energies still present here."

As Mike pulled the van to a stop in front of the decrepit Victorian-style cottage, he announced, "That's our plan then. Everyone, stay on your toes."

**********
 

Bellingham Estate
February, 2010
 

Luke was the first one out of the van after it came to a stop in front of Jenkins Porter's cottage. He stepped to where the caretaker waited, taking in the building behind him which looked as weather-beaten as the old man's face. The roof was in dire need of repair and the exterior paint so faded, he could only guess at the original color.

Either this guy's on retainer and hasn't seen a check in a while or he puts his money somewhere else... like down his throat.

Jenkins Porter's dog remained at his side. A low growl came from deep in its belly, but Luke refused to back off. You don't scare me, big fellah. I've been studying Aikido since I was ten. Ignoring the dog's reaction and the angry looks directed at him by the caretaker, he leaned on the doorjamb and watched the man fumble with his keys.

Making eye contact with Mike, he wasn't surprised to see him frowning. In the past, the team's leader had taken him aside and warned of the inherent danger in provoking both humans and spirits. “Luke, it's just a matter of time before you run into something both evil and more powerful than you. I've been there, dude, and things can get ugly really fast." 

Luke's response had been to laugh it off. “It hasn't happened to me yet. You know I get the best EVP's of anyone on the team because I do what it takes to get the spirits to respond to me. Why fix something that ain't broke?" 

The caretaker finally got the door open and his dog rushed through first. The four investigators followed with Jenkins Porter entering last. The animal sat on a white fur rug in front of a fieldstone fireplace where a blazing fire cast heat into the center of the room. Luke looked to where the dog stared and said, “Holy shit, is that who I think it is?”

Above the mantle was an ornately framed portrait of a man wearing a burgundy smoking jacket and a white ascot. The artist kept the background simple, choosing to focus on the hawkish features and hooded, deep-blue eyes of his subject. They seemed to bore their way into Luke's soul. The hair on his arms rose in reaction to the sense of unease this imagined intimacy created. 

“I remember seeing that painting in police photos taken during the investigation of the murders of Catherine Bellingham and Phillipe Mansaur,” he heard Emma say. “It's a portrait of Charles Bellingham, the man who murdered them, isn't it?" Luke glanced to where she stood, noting her rigid features and the hard-eyed stare she gave the caretaker.

"Yes... not that it's any damned business of yours," Jenkins Porter replied. "I've been allowed certain items from the manor, and I have a piece of paper proving it."

“Why would you want the portrait of a brutal murderer in a prominent position in your house?" She pointed to the remains of three black pillar candles. “It looks like a shrine, for heaven's sake!”

Turning its head, the dog snapped its jaws. The sound of its teeth echoed in the small space. Emma stepped closer to Mike and said, “That dog should be muzzled. It's dangerously territorial.”

The caretaker flushed a deep red. “Brody wouldn't harm a flea. He senses you people are here to make trouble for me and he's just reactin' to that.”

**

Mike decided it was time to take charge of the situation. He closed in on where Jenkins Porter rested his leg on the granite base of the fireplace and waited for a signal the man was listening. Jenkins Porter raised his eyes, stopping at the height of Mike's chin.

"We've been hired to investigate the paranormal happenings at this estate by your employers, Mr. Porter. It's our understanding you've been advised to cooperate fully with our investigation, including answering any and all questions we feel important to the case." 

"Emma, have you got your digital recorder turned on?" Mike said over his shoulder.

Jenkins Porter's voice rose in shrill objection. "You've no right to record what I say. I agreed to answer questions, nothing more; and I ain't sayin' another word until you turn that thing off!" Punctuating the outburst, a loud clattering sound came from the adjoining room. 

Luke, who was closest to the sound, went looking for its source. Lying in the middle of the kitchen floor was a fireplace poker. He took it into the seating area to show it to the others, and all eyes turned towards the caretaker who'd not moved from his spot. 

"Used to these sorts of happenings are you, Porter? You didn't react at all just now," Mike observed.

"If you mean the way my special friend takes care of me, then yes, I am, and you'd better be on your best manners when he's around."

"Are you referring to Charles Bellingham?" Mike asked. The caretaker's response took him by surprise: his head snapped back and his torso twitched beneath his shirt. He fell back against the wall. Grabbing his head, he pulled at the roots of his hair as if he was trying to eject invading insects."Get out before I make you sorry you ever set foot on my property,” he screamed.

Mike was trying to figure out what to do when he heard Mia's request. “Help me get him into his bed in the back room there, will you?"

They each took a side, pulled him to his feet and guided him toward the bedroom. He collapsed across the bed and closed his eyes. The hound, who'd followed the three into the room, sprawled at his feet, laid his head on his paw and expelled a loud sigh.

Leaning over the prostrate man, Mike passed a hand over his mouth. He looked to where Mia stood nearby and said, “He's breathing. Looks like he's passed out. Question is, was it from alcohol or something else?”

Regrouping in the seating area, Mike made a decision on behalf of the group. “I think we'd best get the keys we need for the estate and explore on our own. Emma's gotten some good anecdotal accounts of the paranormal events here. Let's work from those. We won't get much help from Porter at this point.”

Mia agreed. “If this is a demonic episode, and I suspect it is, he'll have no recall at all when he wakes up.”

"Jeez, that was creepy as hell," Emma interjected. "Did you notice how his lips twisted into that horrible smile? And that voice - human but also something else. I don't mind admitting that little scene made my blood go cold.”

"Is there anything we can do to help him, Mia?" Mike continued.

"Probably not. It would take a willingness to be free of the possessing spirit. It appears to me that he's a conduit for Charles Bellingham's energy, allowing him to manifest poltergeist phenomenon like the demonstration with the poker.”

Mike turned to Luke. “Looks like you were right in your assessment that Jenkins Porter will be of little help in this investigation.”

Luke grinned. "I'm also thinking we haven't even reached the main house yet, and already we're experiencing some serious shit. This could be one helluva rollercoaster ride, guys."