Free 2 A Haunting In Oregon by Michael Richan

and a goatee that matched, very neatly trimmed. He wore
round glasses that looked very old. Steven and Roy stood as he entered, and Roy
shook his hand.
    “Roy, and my son, Steven,” Roy
said, “but then, you already know that.”
    “Yes,” said Albert, turning to
shake Steven’s hand. “Thank you for going along with the subterfuge. That’s how
I determined you were legitimate,” he said smiling.
    “To the neighborhood you’re a
little old lady,” Steven said.
    “An old widow who keeps to
herself,” he said, motioning for them to sit. “I’m going to switch to something
else soon. I’ve been doing the old lady for so many years now, certainly some
of the neighbors must wonder why she hasn’t expired. It won’t do to have them
wondering about me.”
    Steven and Roy sat on a sofa
opposite Albert, who sat in a large oversized chair that was obviously his
favorite. Steven suspected Albert was much older than the old man he appeared
to be. It felt like he was interacting with a character from a very old movie.
Albert’s style and language was from a bygone era.
    “What can I do for you?” Albert
asked. “You appear tired. Have you been travelling the whole night?”
    “I got your name from Dixon,” Roy
said. “He helped me decipher a pattern I observed yesterday. I was hoping I
could speak to you about it.”
    “I’d be happy to speak with you on
this matter,” said Albert, adjusting in his seat. “Please tell me the specifics.”
    Roy related the story of the manor
and the passageway they’d discovered. He told him how he’d deciphered Albert’s
signature.
    “Would you kindly pause your
narrative for a moment?” Albert asked, rising from his seat and disappearing
down the hallway again. Roy turned to look at Steven, they exchanged glances,
but before either could speak Albert returned with a small ledger book that
looked very old.
    “Would you be so kind as to repeat
the location?” Albert asked.
    “About fifty miles east of
Medford, Oregon,” Roy said. “Opens at 2 a.m., lasts about twenty minutes.”
    Albert flipped through the pages
of the book. When he reached the end of it, he flipped through it again. “Hmm,
must be older than I thought,” he said as he rose from his chair and went back
down the hallway. He returned with another ledger, this one much older. He
turned the pages with care.
    “Ah, here it is,” Albert said,
“the Maysill contract. Paid in full into perpetuity. What are your concerns, again?”
    “It creates an attraction for
ghosts,” Roy said.
    “Yes, they always do that,” Albert
nodded.
    “So this portal is under your
control?” Steven asked.
    “Yes, I oversee it. I have an
assistant who handles the schedule and the execution.”
    “Can you tell me how long this has
been going on?” Roy asked.
    Albert checked the ledger. “The
contract started in 1850, so approximately a hundred and sixty years, give or
take a few years?”
    “You mean to tell me that portal
has been opening there every night for a century and a half?” Steven asked,
surprised.
    “Like clockwork,” smiled Albert.
“I always pride myself on honoring contracts to the letter. Highest quality
service, that’s my motto!”
    “Do you have any idea how many
ghosts it’s attracted in that time?” Steven asked, becoming a little upset.
    “I should think quite a few indeed,”
Albert replied.
    Roy jumped in before Steven could
ruin things by becoming too angry with Albert. “It seems to be functioning
flawlessly,” he said. “My congratulations on a job well done. Especially one
that has lasted so long.”
    “Well,” said Albert, “I do have
several that predate this contract, but thank you nonetheless. I’m delighted to
hear it’s working out well.”
    “That’s just it,” said Steven. “It
isn’t working out well. We need to shut it down.”
    “Shut it down? That’s not going to
happen,” Albert said, shaking his head.
    “Is there any way it could be shut
down?”