Free Lady Justice and the Ghostly Treasure by Robert Thornhill Page B

more exotic. It has to do with ghosts.”
        “Oh please. Enlighten me.”
        “People like Christopher Wheeler, the guy who communicated with Cyrus in the hotel, have determined that quite an assortment of spirits inhabit these old buildings. It seems that those who occupy the winery building are not malevolent in any way --- more like mischievous. The spirits in the other three buildings, not so much. Quite frankly, the owner of the property fears that if he tears down the dilapidated buildings, the more sinister spirits might take up residence in the winery.”
        “Swell! Asbestos and boogey men. Just what I wanted to hear.”
        “Well, you asked.”
        “Any idea where we should start looking?” Kevin asked.
        “I remember Momma worked mainly on the second floor,” Mary replied. “I’d start there.”
        As we headed to the stairway, there was a ‘crash’ that froze us in our tracks.
        “What the hell was that?” Kevin asked, his voice wavering a bit.
        None of us took another step or moved a muscle for what seemed like an eternity. I suddenly realized I’d been holding my breath.
        Hearing nothing more, I relaxed a bit. “Could have been anything. Maybe the wind or some furry creature. There’s bound to be mice, rats, or possibly a raccoon or possum living here. There’s certainly nothing to keep them out.”
        “Great,” Kevin replied. “Now in addition to the asbestos and the undead, we’re talking vermin --- with pointy teeth.”
        “From my experience, they’re more afraid of you than you are of them --- the furry things, that is. The supernatural things, I couldn’t say.”
        “You’re such a comfort.”
        We finally reached the stairway to the second floor. I could see why the CREEPZ Ghost Commando s never got past the entry hall.
     

     
     
        A bannister from above had fallen, stair treads were rotted or missing, and the wall was covered with dark red splotches. Surely not blood. Surely not blood , I kept telling myself as I stepped gingerly on the first tread.
        Being the smallest and lightest, I went first, followed by Kevin. Mary brought up the rear. Ascending the stairs was like navigating a mine field. I tested each tread, not putting my full weight down until I was certain it would hold.
        Step by agonizing step, we advanced.
        There were only three more treads to go when I heard a ‘crash’ and a shriek from below.
        “Son-of-a-bitch!” Mary wailed. “Get me outta here!”
        I turned and my flashlight beam caught the top half of Mary protruding from the tread three steps below me.
        The tread had held my 150 pounds and Kevin’s 175, but was no match for Mary’s 200.”
        “Quiet!” Kevin ordered. “You’ll wake the dead. Hmmm, not a good choice of words. You’ll alert the guard.”
        “Then get me outta here,” she said again, squirming.
        I joined Kevin. “What do you think?”
        “Don’t know,” he replied. “I can take one arm and you can take the other, but when we pull, our combined weight will all be on one tread. I’m not sure it will hold. Any other ideas?”
        The thought that we leave her there briefly crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. The wailing that would ensue would certainly rile any spirits that might be lurking about.
        “Can’t think of any. Let’s give it a go.”
        I grabbed one arm, Kevin grabbed the other and we pulled --- and pulled --- and pulled. All the while, Mary was squirming, grunting, and cussing under her breath.
        When she finally popped loose, I let out a big sigh. The tread had held.
        Mary shined her light on her leg. “Well, damn!” she muttered, looking at the red strawberry on each knee.
        At these close quarters, I suddenly realized that Mary hadn’t gotten all the dog poop off of her shoe.
        “Better get moving,” I