Lovers From Beyond Ep. 03

(Part 1 of 2)

1919 Prospect Place

Peter Brunswick was a young man of twenty years, tall and strapping, lean and athletic. He had a head full of black hair, and eyes of a similar hue that seemed to pierce into things and analyze their innards entirely. Unfortunately, Peter also had a proclivity for the young Mexican maids that his father employed. This was a habit that his mother abhorred, of course, because of the scandal that might ensue if the sordid affairs were ever to be found out.

On a normal day, Peter Brunswick could be found at his parents' residence in Beverly Hills. The sorry state of affairs was that Peter was no longer home. Instead, he was in an equally affluent section of La Jolla, standing before a post-modern, tri-level atrocity that in no way resembled the stately mansion he was used to residing in.

"Oh, dear." Peter sighed. "Minton, are you sure you have the correct address?"

His dedicated butler nodded once. "I assure you that this is the correct place, young master."

"Please tell me again, why am I here?"

"Because your mother fears that you might impregnate one of the household servants." Minton informed Peter, unnecessary because Peter knew the answer well enough. "And because your father hates the competition for them."

Peter grinned, for he could always count on Minton to give him an honest answer.

Next, the young man studied the structure looming before him, rubbing his chin as he did so. It was an assortment of rectangles, some standing, some lying on their sides, each hued in tan, brown or rust. The top two levels of the house were accentuated by an occasional and very ugly rail painted in gray. The roof of the building was shaped in a half circle, with a dark brown surface and a bright white, inner second layer that reminded Peter of a coconut shell.

"And there is the matter of your schooling to consider." Minton hinted.

"Ah, yes." Peter agreed. "The schooling."

The school being referenced was the University of California, where Peter's father fully expected the young man to enroll. In no trivial fashion, Peter's father had gone out of his way to point out the university's vaunted law program.

"A Catholic school, yes?" Peter asked.

"It espouses Catholic values," Minton corrected. "But it is a modern facility. Its doors are fully open to other denominations as well."

"And how long before I must turn in an application?"

"March first, sir."

It was only the second week of January, Peter knew. "I'll worry about filling out applications and taking the SAT test in February. That leaves me with the entire rest of this month with nothing to do. Will you hinder my social life, Minton, as my father has suggested that you do?"

"I am sorry, sir." Minton bowed his head slightly. "But I would much rather follow your father's edict than risk being without steady employment. You know very well of the dismal state of today's economy. I'd hate to end up washing dishes somewhere at a much more disagreeable rate of pay than what I receive at this present time."

"I really hate you sometimes, Minton." Peter frowned. "You'd be much more likable if you weren't always such a straight ruler."

"The feeling is mutual, young sir, regarding the first part of your statement."

Not certain if he'd heard correctly, Peter's eyes went toward the butler's face.

Minton grinned. "Only a jest, young sir. I did take the liberty of checking into the university's demographics. Fifty-five percent of the students are female. I trust that will be somewhat to your liking?"

Peter almost rubbed his hands together from glee. "Fifty-five percent female, ah? I know you're just trying to entice me further into enrolling, as my father wishes me to, but I appreciate knowing that information nonetheless. I shall refrain from speaking ill of you behind your back for the remainder of this month."

"Thank you so much for that, sir."

"Now, what should we do next?" Peter asked out loud. "I suppose that actually going into the house wouldn't be too out of the question? Wasn't my aunt going to meet us here?" He fished his phone from his pocket. Just as he was about to punch in the woman's number, a silver Mercedes turned in from the street and circled the roundabout.

The Mercedes pulled up behind the Rolls Royce Peter and Minton had arrived in earlier. Exiting first was the driver, a portly redhead with an ample bosom, wearing a flowery dress colored in bright white and dark blue. Stepping out next came a brown haired woman in a conservative dark gray coat and skirt, with a ruffled white blouse and a small black derby on her head.

"Look, Minton, my aunt has brought us Mary Poppins." Peter groaned under his breath.

"I do say, sir, that the maids back home were a lot easier on the eyes."

Peter glanced at his butler. This time, Minton wasn't kidding. Regardless, Peter had some greetings to attend to, and he started toward the two women. "Aunt Victoria, what a pleasure it is to see you."

His aunt kissed him on both cheeks, and gave him what amounted to a bear hug. "I haven't seen you in how long? Too long, Peter!" She beamed up proudly at him. "My, how you've grown! You look like a young, dark-haired Robert Redford!"

"Please stop." Peter blushed.

Once he'd recovered from his shock, Peter went on to introduce his butler. In turn, Victoria motioned behind her, only to see that her guest was still standing well back, and by the door of the Mercedes.

"And this is Martha." She said, before calling out. "You can come a little closer, Martha. None of us bite."

Martha nodded and timidly stepped forward. She held a small travel bag in her hand.

"Martha fills your father's requirements to a T." Victoria informed her nephew. "She's a great cook, she'll keep the house in tip-top shape, and she's quiet as a mouse."

Martha stood nearly directly behind Peter's aunt. Her face even reddened from the praise. Victoria stepped aside so the men could get a better look at her.

She wasn't a bad looking creature, Peter realized, now that she was standing that much closer. He figured the woman to be in her early forties, but her choice in clothing made her look like a much older lady. Martha also looked to be as large-breasted as his aunt, Peter scrutinized, unless all those ruffles were deceiving him.

The young man turned back to address his aunt. "Now, tell us about the house. It isn't yours, is it?"

"It belongs to a friend of mine, named Katherine." Victoria divulged. "It's been sitting empty for the last few months. Katherine is hoping the real estate market will start an upturn, at which point she can sell it for a handsome profit. You can stay here as long as you'd like, or until your father decides he no longer needs to rent it out. The house comes completely furnished." She produced a set of keys from a small purse. "Let's have a tour of the place, shall we?"

The house had the usual: a large foyer and kitchen on the first floor, along with a small room set aside as servant's quarters. Three master bedrooms were located on the second floor. The third floor was reserved for a game room or den, but it was largely empty at the time. In the backyard, they were shown a sundeck with a gorgeous view of the Pacific Ocean. Most interesting to Peter were a lavish swimming pool, and also a sauna ensconced in a nook next to a gathering of small trees.

Peter envisioned the pool and sauna brimming with young women wearing thong bikinis, until he turned to look at his butler. Minton was already shaking his head No.

"Now, what's this I hear about you not being allowed to have any ladies in the house?" Victoria asked. "Did they catch you screwing a poodle in the living room, or something of that nature?"

When Peter didn't answer right away, Minton cleared his throat. "More like a few of the housecats, actually."

"Oh, really?" Victoria's widened in understanding. "That would explain why your father was so specific regarding the maid then."

Martha stared at all of them with a baffled expression on her face, as she was discerning the coded conversation not at all.

"One last thing." Victoria said. "A small, trivial matter, really. A few people have made the comment that this house may be haunted."

"You said haunted?" Peter asked, his brow barely lifting.

"Haunted?" Martha eyes, however, widened like saucers at the notion. "This house is haunted?"

Of the entire party, only the new maid seemed to be taken aback.

Victoria felt the need to reassure this woman more than the men. "I am only saying that a few people have made such comments. However, a couple of my girlfriends and I fancy ourselves to be amateur ghost sleuths. The three of us spent the night here on a couple of occasions. I am happy to report that we experienced nothing of the supernatural sort on either of those occasions."

"What were the comments?" Peter asked. "In the case that we need to be wary of them."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about them too much." Victoria belittled the situation. "Just a random knocking now and then, or the sound of footsteps. Nothing frightening or dangerous whatsoever. I can't understand why this house would be haunted in the first place. It was only built about fifteen years ago."

Peter again considered the building's ugly façade. If he were a ghost, he fancied he'd find himself a nicer looking place in which to spend his afterlife.

"Now, is there anything you might need," Victoria asked. "In order to get yourself settled in?"

Minton made a sound with his throat. "I do have a shopping list."

"Splendid." Victoria grinned. "We'll be taking your car then, to the grocery store just past the main drag here in La Jolla."

"I'd rather stay here, if it's all the same to you." Peter sighed. "To better get acquainted with the place and all."

"Suit yourself." Victoria shrugged.

Minton started toward the driver's side of the Rolls, but halted when Peter's aunt slapped him in the butt. He looked back, absolutely shocked.

Victoria wiggled her fingers in a beckoning manner. "The keys, if you don't mind."

Minton gulped, for he always hated confronting anyone with the authority to have him dismissed. "From the directions I received from the elder Master Brunswick, I was led to understand that I would be the only person allowed on the driver's seat."

"Oh, you can occupy the driver's seat," Victoria obliged him. "But you'll be doing so from a position sitting atop my lap."

Peter chuckled, for he'd never seen Minton so distraught before.

"Now, give me the keys, or I will be forced to wrestle you for them. You do like wrestling with women, don't you?"

Minton's face reddened as he handed them over. He even pulled on his collar a bit, to let some of his discomfort out. "Would it be too presumptuous of me, to ask for your hand in marriage at such an early juncture as this?"

"You may ask freely." Victoria smiled most lecherously. "And I suppose if you manage to tickle my fancy, I may even succumb to some of your more lurid advances." She held the keys out toward the maid. "Martha, would you care to take over the driving duties, so that this dear man may tickle my fancy in the back seat of this nice car?"

"No, ma'am." Martha bowed her head. "I couldn't. I'd be afraid to cause a wreck."

Victoria shrugged her shoulders at Minton. "Alas, it is not meant to be. You'll just have to ride in the front with me." She winked. "But I'm very good at driving with one hand."

The trio entered the car, with a very embarrassed Martha reluctantly taking the back seat. Peter waved them off a minute later.

The young man sighed once again, not knowing whether he should laugh or cry. His aunt seemed incredibly more liberated than he recalled. Her demeanor would assuredly give Peter's exile a much appreciated boost of fun and frolic. However, his father's restrictions of no women and no parties, coupled with the fact that he was in a strange neighborhood where he didn't know a single soul, were utterly and convincingly depressing.

Time passed, with both butler and maid quickly and competently assuming their duties, and Peter growing more and more bored and lethargic by the day.

The main draws in La Jolla were just a tad too far for regular jaunts, which meant that Peter had to frequently call for Minton's assistance as a chaperone. Still, whenever Peter managed to make good conversation with a young lady, he was hard put not to curse his father for curtailing his social life in the way that he had. Peter couldn't stay out too late and he couldn't bring any company home. He couldn't do this, that or the other. It was getting to the point where going to the university was beginning to look attractive by comparison.

Thankfully, Aunt Victoria managed to convince Minton not to wear that stuffy uniform all the time. This made the man look less conspicuous when he was driving Peter around town. The butler's new wardrobe consisted of a black turtleneck sweater, dark slacks and loafers, and a pair of black tortoise shell sunglasses. Minton's new appearance fit in well with some of the area's wealthier-to-do hobnobbers.

Then some strange things began to happen in the house.

As far as Peter could remember, Minton had never misplaced a thing. Now it seemed as if the butler couldn't find the car keys every other day. Peter could attribute some of Minton's carelessness to Victoria, as the plump woman dropped by on occasion, merely to banter salacious remarks with the man. Minton, though he tried hard to hold his head aloft, was hopelessly outmatched and always left blushing.

While those unusual occurrences could be partially explained, the next assortment could not. Martha ran out from the kitchen one morning, screaming and claiming that something invisible had tapped her on the shoulder. The terrified maid refused to go back into that room until Minton accompanied her, and only then was their breakfast completed. Also, doors and windows left closed were found open later, although no one in the house remembered having opened them.

After that, Peter and Minton both joked with one another and called every unusual incident that took place to be the work of the ghost. It wasn't until Peter had his own disconcerting experience that he changed his perception of what was taking place around them.

Peter had been gracing the bathroom, and specifically, the Kohler Numi toilet, which had its own seat and foot warmers. For some strange reason, it also had a remote control that Peter couldn't fathom. The young man had just finished doing his duty and reached for the roll of Renovo designer toilet paper. Before his fingers could fully grasp the roll, it popped away from its little marble pedestal and started rolling away from him, leaving a bright fuchsia trail behind it.

As Peter watched, the roll jumped first from the floor to the marble countertop, a full three feet from the ground, and second to the window ledge. As if on a suicidal binge, the roll of toilet paper next hopped out through the open window. Its fuchsia streamer soon followed it out.

"Minton!" Peter screamed out loud. "Minton!"

The butler could soon be heard running up the stairs and approaching the bathroom door. Minton burst inside, swinging his head in all directions until he discovered Peter's vulnerable predicament. Once he saw Peter on the toilet, Minton quickly ran back out.

From his spot just outside the door, the butler asked, "Sir, I heard you calling! Is everything all right with you?"

"No, it is not!" Peter shouted back. "Can you please get me a roll of toiler paper?"

Minton sounded greatly relieved. "Is that all, sir? I thought you might have hurt yourself."

The butler quickly scurried into the bathroom and retrieved a new roll from a hidden compartment that rested behind the wall, accessible through a spring latch.

"Is that where you keep it?" Peter asked, feeling sheepish as he took the roll. "Would you take a look out through that window, and tell me where the previous roll has gone? It seems to have acquired some sort of instinct to migrate all of a sudden."

Minton peered outside as Peter hurriedly cleaned himself up. The toilet's automatic sensors flushed the device, and thank goodness, right after Peter stood up it released a flowery scent into the air.

Both men looked down toward ground level, but saw nothing. It wasn't until they glanced across the way, and way, way up, that they saw the fuchsia roll. It was nestled high atop a palm tree, its streamer hanging down like an animal's extra long tail.

"I wouldn't suppose you tossed it outside, in a fit over the color?" Minton asked.

"The ghost did it." Peter said in irritation. "It snatched the roll from before my fingers, and it tried to prevent me from cleaning my ass! I'm finding myself getting very angry over this, Minton! Very angry!"

"May I suggest calling your aunt?" The butler replied. "Perhaps she might have a remedy. She did state that she was some sort of amateur ghost investigator."

Victoria did come over. Once she'd taken a seat downstairs, both Peter and the hired help stood before her. One by one, they related their haunting experiences.

"It sounds like a classic poltergeist." Victoria concluded. "It is a mischievous spirit that haunts this place. Thankfully, the spirit is not a vindictive one."

"Well, what are we to do about it?" Peter asked. "We can't just have it snatching toilet paper whenever it damn well pleases. Or tapping our shoulders, or hiding our car keys, or any of it!"

"Oh, it can't be that bad." Victoria soothed their fears. "It merely wants to play with you all. You must understand, there isn't very much for a spirit to do when it becomes stuck between our world and the next. Try to see things from the perspective of the ghost."

"You sound like a therapist." Peter quipped.

"I can't work here, not under these conditions." Martha was nearly shivering from fright. She looked about as if some specter might be creeping up on her at that very moment.

"I was afraid of ghosts once, as you are now." Victoria recalled. "But since then, I've learned quite a few things about a ghost, and it's... motivations."

"What do you mean by that?" Peter asked.

His aunt suddenly blushed. She patted her thighs to draw their attention away from her face. "Perhaps I've said too much. I will consult with my two girlfriends regarding the matter. If we need to hire an exorcist, then that's what we'll do." She seemed to be thinking something over. After a moment, she was smiling pleasantly at Minton. "My dear friend, my girlfriends and I were planning on holding a private séance tonight in a rather rundown section of the city. I could use a companion such as yourself. Are you interested?"

"More than I can express in mere words, madam." Minton answered eagerly. "In murals, perhaps."

"Splendid. I'll pick you up at seven." She stood up and appeared to be heading for the door.

"What about us?" Peter asked. "What if this poltergeist decides to attack us?"

"It won't attack you, Peter." Victoria replied. "It that was the spirit's intention, it would have done so already. Bear with its pranks for a day or two more, and then we'll get it all resolved. I promise you'll be all right."

Peter grimaced as she exited, and standing close to his side, so did Martha.

That evening, out of both boredom and frustration, the young man stepped into the house's library with the study materials that Minton had thus far purchased for him. He set everything out onto a wide table, starting to organize the mess into smaller, more manageable chunks. This was done in order for Peter to prevent himself from feeling too overwhelmed, but the ploy wasn't working out very well.

Later, Peter was studying a sample SAT test when one of the books fell over onto the polished wood floor. He glanced over, knowing the tome hadn't been anywhere near the edge of the table. Even if it had been, it should have fallen over an hour ago when he'd first set it there. Peter paused from his reading. After he'd gone over to pick the book up, he returned to the problem he was working on.