CANDLELIT CHRONICLES: HISTORIC HAUNTS

March 24 and Free Read_1655 word count

Marva Wright, New Orleans blues and soul vocalist, has died at age 62. Ms. Wright was a survivor of Katrina, RIP Marva Wright.


http://voices.washingtonpost.com/postmortem/








Today's free read: from The Phantom Logging Operation

Chapter 19

“And how is it you know that, sir?

         Before the attorney could respond, a roar outside drew my attention-though not his-and I turned my gaze toward the front window, where a semi-tow truck was pulling away from the corner, dragging a severely-damaged container trailer, the box style. Or it had been box-style, before suffering its demise: the roof of the front end had completely caved in, and the entire front side was a charred wreck. I could observe all this very clearly because as I glanced outside, the front of the trailer, hooked to the tow truck's winch, was directly below me. Immediately I wondered, first, about the life-or-death condtion of the tow's driver; and second, about the status of the box trailer's tractor and driver. To have undergone that quantity and extent of damage, surely the semi had first rolled, then ignited, I thought. I hoped that its driver had been able to jump free; but considering recent sightings and events, what after all was the likelihood of that? For all I knew, the strong possibility existed that the deceased and charred former driver of the tractor-trailer now drove the tow truck!

“IF I might have a moment of your attention!” the attorney rasped.

          I looked back to him and nodded an apology. “Sorry,” I mumbled. My throat seemed to have closed up. “Please-continue.”

“I am, as you may be aware, Attorney-of-Record in the Northern Woods District for the Testament Logging Corporation. As such, I am privy to all the information on the properties you own. You are possessor of the extensive lot on Knox Road; you own two properties, not adjacent, west of Knox.”





         I held up a hand in demurral.

“Wait, wait just a minute. What do you mean: YOU are privy to all my information because you are Attorney for a company that I thought died out twenty years past?”

                   At what he seemed to interpret as my arrogance-or at least impudence- he released the file he had been perusing at my arrival, let the sheets rest on his wide desk, and folded his hands over them.





         

“You are mistaken in a great many of your assumptions, sir. “

         He began to tick off his points on his fingertips.





         

“First of all, Testament Logging Corporation, to this date, is a thriving and very well-occupied concern. You need not worry about Testament Logging-nor any of its assigns nor subsidiaries- suffering bankruptcy, court receivership, nor any other sort of economic distress. Testament Logging Corporation is here to stay. It will remain long after you, or even I, have passed on to our greater rewards.”

         Why did I think I could suddenly scent the fragrance of brimstone?





         The old priss continued:

“The continued existence of the Testament Logging Corporation is not, however, our concern today. Our business is to-validate- the  ongoing continuance of your lease of property you own to Testament Corporation.”





“How can I agree to-continue-leasing property about which I knew nothing, have not yet viewed, to a company I thought long defunct?”





         Attorney Squires really failed to appreciate my comments on the status of Testament. This time the smell of brimstone was distinct, pungent, and off-putting. I even thought I saw wisps of smoke or steam arise from the back of his collar, to either side of his flabby jowls and neck. I held up another cautionary hand.





         “Sir-Attorney Squires-please understand that I came into this office with only the beginning glimmerings of the notion that I own those two-extra-plots of property. Until I received the tax assessment this morning at my Post Office Box in Rennald, I thought I owned only the land on Knox Road which I am presently homesteading-and will continue to homestead in future. I am here solely in pursuit of information, not confrontation. This morning I also had a letter directing me to meet with you, from an attorney in Madison Mills-”





         “Carnathy. Layles Carnathy.”





         “Yes-addressed to my old home in Urbana-”


         


         “Illinois. I am afraid Layles is not always up-to-date with his information sources.” He polished a stray invisible speck of lint from his left lapel as he posited this.

Chapter 20

         Clearly Attorney Benton Squires and the Bookseller downstairs were quite a pair: both difficult, arrogant, elitist-both should have been Europeans. I liked neither one and would only be too glad not to have to deal with them. I remembered now how vain and stuck-up Leill's Vegas blackjack dealer was too-always with the “better than me” attitude going. I hadn't liked him either, and not only because he ran off with my wife.





         Wondering how long I would have to sit and wait till Squires decided, like a Pez toy, to dispense some information, one lozenge at a time, I elected to stir the pot.





“Mr. Squires, I really must get on with my day. Would you please tell me all I need to know about my properties?”





         He finally looked at me then, both resignation and pity warring in his gaze.





“Tell you 'all you need to know,' or tell you all?”





         I waved my hand in a wishy-washy motion to indecisiveness.

“I don't know: am I ready to learn 'all'?” I inquired jestingly.

That resignation mixed with pity slowly congealed into pure pity.

“I don't know, Mr. Lewes-are you ready? Why don't we begin with the essentials, as you say you have 'promises to keep and miles to go before you sleep'?”

          I started to demur, till I realized he referred to the Robert Frost poem, “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening.”


So instead I just proferred a smile, and added,

“By all means, please-just the essentials for now.”





“All right then. Very simply put, Mr. Lewes, you are the only surviving son of a very important personage in the Testament Logging Corporation.”

         I just sat, stunned. Surely he didn't refer to Daddy? Mamma had never implied anything like this: yes, she told me often how Daddy was considered a valued employee-as a maintenance manager and jack-of-trades-and thus kept on throughout the Depression when many others had been laid off. But “a very important personage?” Whatever could Attorney Squires be indicating?





         As I pondered his strange words, the man patted his hand in the air, as if pacifying a stirring beast.

“Your father, Mr. Lewes, was an integral component of the expansion and maintenance of the stability of the Testament Logging Corporation. Indeed, it is to his credit that Testament still continues its high status today.”

         This time, instead of his right hand patting the air a half-foot over the desk, his left hand waved a back-and-forth dance at me. From a man who at first could scarcely grant me his attention, Mr. Squires had mutated into a master of gesticulation-all since commencing to discuss the very corporation to whom he was on permanent retainer.

“Mr. Edison Donald Lewes owned a plot of property essential to the continued stability of Testament Logging Corporation. He became owner of this property on the demise of his father-in-law, who had willed it to him knowing that he would use the lease payments from Testament to continue to provide for his wife, Maggethe, and their son-yourself, Mr. Lewes. Mr. Edison Lewes, of course, suffered an early and untimely, although not unexpected, demise” (oh, how I bristled at this) “on the fields of the European Theater of War, in May 1941.”

         By this point I was not really sure how much more I could take. I'm certain I had paled, if not actually lost all color entirely.

“My secretary is away for the day, so I can't offer you coffee, but would you care to take a wee spot of brandy, not too much for the road?”

         I acceded, and he opened a door in the left side of the mahogany credenza which stood on the remainder of the wall not taken up by his desk. A crystal decanter-perhaps Baccarat-and two shot glasses (not brandy snifters, I noted-oh the education of those old films!) rested on the top shelf inside, and in a moment, one appeared in my hand. I didn't hesitate, didn't pause to sniff the bouquet, but tossed it off and set the shot glass on his desk. Of course he immediately whisked it up and replaced it in the credenza, after wrapping a linen napkin inside-I assume to indicate it needed to be cleaned-then shut the credenza door and returned to his seat, where he gently sniffed and lapped at his own brandy.

“The particular plot of property to which I refer, Mr. Lewes, is known in County Assessment records as Lot 1313-91, in the township of Knox, County of Collingham. This is not the lot on which you currently reside, noted as Lot 2417-09, nor the property deeded to your parents at the time of their wedding by her father, Mr. Calhoun-Lot 1317-01. This Plot is not adjacent to the land on which your mother lived until her wedding, on which your maternal grandparents resided until their mutual demise; but, as with that particular plot, this plot in question-so essential to Testament Corporation-also had been held in the Calhoun lineage since time immemorial (or at least since the onset of European immigration into the Northern Woods Territories). Its boundaries begin just beyond the Calhoun family cemetery, and extend quite some distance beyond. This Plot is located-”


{the pause that followed became so lengthy that I broke out in a sweat, beads popping out on my forehead, because I feared the outcome of it)





“-in the Heart of The Big Forest.”