Oh, what a great trip! Camping one night in Big Basin, bartended a birthday at this gorgeous house overlooking the ocean in Pescadero, and then I introduced Fern to the Santa Cruz that I still so dearly love. What a great weekend. However, between Big Basin and Pescadero I had no internet service, so I’m backdating this one, and publishing two stories tomorrow to catch up. For now, this is what good cooking can do…

I think Becky saw the ghost first – sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast waiting for the bus, she said she saw an old woman all in white – long white sleeping gown, totally white hair, looked translucently white –  wander from the hallway, into the kitchen, through the kitchen and right past Becky, and then around to the family room. When Becky got the nerve to go look for this lady in white, she was gone. I don’t remember when I saw her, but I felt her first – doing the dishes I got the shivers and turned and saw the same old woman all in white drifting through the kitchen. Dougy kept saying “Mommy, who da wye wady? Who da wye wday?” confirming he was seeing the lady in white, too!

When Becky and I were at the kitchen table together and we both watched the Wye Wady (as we all, naturally, took to calling her), that finally put me over the edge to actually try to do something. I think before that I could chalk it up to… I don’t know, power of suggestion?

I called Tony, my landlord. He told me his first tenant when he started renting the place was an older woman – Valarie. She was nice, lost her husband a few years before, adult kids visited all the time – they had Sunday dinners at the place. Even insisted Tony join them when the old woman discovered he was recently divorced. She lived there for about five or six years and eventually died in the house – natural causes, no foul play or nothing.

Died in the house? Old lady? I was convinced I’d found our ghost! My girlfriend, Janice? She said her friend, Sandy is a psychic. Called her up, she agreed to come over. I made a lasagna, and didn’t even have the garlic bread out of the oven when Sandy says she’s in contact with the ghost. Well, she said she could sense the ghost, but the ghost wasn’t saying anything. Just… there. I described what Becky and I saw and that was the ghost.

Well, shit, I thought. Now what?

Sandy loved the lasagna and I made her a plate and she was so grateful, which was wonderful – I told her I wanted do some investigation and probably call her back.

I talked to Tony who gave me Valerie’s oldest daughter’s phone number. Disconnected. I had a name, though, and Janice’s husband, Dave, ran the name through the DMV database at work and, boom, current phone number and address!

Called her – Debbie – and explained I lived in her mom’s old place. That got her talking about how much they loved Sunday dinners, and when they found her… I’ll spare you the details, suffice it to say her mom died in her sleep and Debbie found her when she came to take her to the orthopedic surgeon for an appointment the next day. I told her we’ve been seeing a ghost and we think it’s her mom. Debbie says, no, she’s sure it’s not her mom – she actually saw her mom’s ghost at the house a couple days after the funeral when she was going through her stuff, but then she had a dream that her mom was saying goodbye and opened the door and it was bright and Debbie said she felt warmth and peace and believed her mom passed over. She was cleaning out the place for the next three weeks and no ghost. I describe the ghost and Debbie says it sounds like her mom, but… her mom passed over, right?

I invite her over for dinner and ask if it’s okay for the psychic to come. Debbie says sure, but she’s a vegetarian. I said no problem, I make an amazing vegetarian manicotti with spinach and mushrooms, but is cheese okay? She ate cheese, so we were good.

Night of, and the manicotti was a hit. I put Dougy to bed and told Becky to go do her homework, but she insisted she wasn’t going to miss this for the world. Fine. Sandy holds Debbie’s hands, closes her eyes, and after a few minutes smiles and says, “Hello, Valerie! I’m here with your daughter in your old house!” And she’s having this conversation with her! Telling Debbie her mom is sorry she didn’t get to say goodbye, she loves her. We’re all crying, even Becky! Then Sandy’s face goes pale. “I don’t know. I felt it before. It’s not you?”

“What? What?” I asked.

Sandy’s eyes open. “Valarie says she sees the ghost. And it’s her… but it’s not her.” Sandy said Valarie freaked out and left – left where? I don’t know! She’s a ghost, right? But she’s not the ghost! Sandy is scared. Like, scared. And then the Wye Wady shows up. Like she’s fucking right there in the doorway.

“Mom?” Debbie breaks the silence. Oh shit, she shouldn’t have done that…

The Wye Wady locks eyes on Debbie and gets this look of hatred and starts towards her across the room, like fast. Then there’s a scream, but it didn’t come from any of us. We didn’t have time to scream. No, Sandy is a pro. She’s a boss. She whips out this crucifix from her purse and is all “be gone, wraith!” In my memory she’s all “The power of manicotti compels you, be gone!” but I think that’s just memory getting crossed with that scene from “The Exorcist” and that vegetarian manicotti – which turned out really well despite the lack of meat! But, no, she just said “Be gone, wraith!” – Becky confirmed that.

And who carries a full-on crucifix in their purse? I guess when you talk to ghosts…

But that scream? The ghost… or wraith… or whatever. The Wye Wady. Scream, poof. Gone. Debbie was inconsolable, you know? I gave her the leftover manicotti, and told her to call me if she needs to. Sandy gave her number, too. I gave Sandy my lasagna recipe but invited her back a week later and I’d make it again. And that was that! When I made Sandy lasagna the following weekend she said the house was clean of energies – it felt it, too! To be on the safe side, Sandy burned sage around the place, but no more Wye Wady!

But just last night I was making that same vegetarian manicotti again and I heard footsteps in the hallway. Becky was there, too, heard the footsteps and we just looked at each other. I checked the hallway and there was nothing. I’m not about wasting food, but I am not ashamed to say I threw out that tray of manicotti and we ordered pizza.

Sorry for no graphics tonight. I’m on my iPad waiting for Fern to get off work so we can head out to Big Basin. First, though, let’s catch up with an old friend…

“Skip? Got a moment?”

“Yeah, Eddy,” Skip closed the door of the Sheriff’s department Ford Explorer he was about to climb into. “Of course. What’s up?”

“Sorry, Chief, I know you’re on the way out, but, uh, I don’t really know how to ask about this…”

“Oh, goddamnit, Eddy. Not you too!”

Eddy held out his hands. “It’s not me, Skip! But, you know, word gets around…”

“No shit,” Skip said with a deep sigh.

“My wife begged me to ask if you could do her a favor.”

“Marissa? What’s she want in all this?”

“It’s actually her cousin…”

“Is he…” Skip drew a finger across his throat.

“No! No, Diego’s cool. No, he’s living with in this house up on Ridgecrest with a bunch of guys.”

“Okay…”

“And they’re convinced there’s this…”

“Ghost.”

“Ghost. My wife heard that…”

“I can see them…” Skip added, “and maybe I could stop by…”

“Would you?” Eddy said relieved the question was out there.

“Jesus Christ, Eddy.” Skip took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He thought for a moment then said, “Yeah, that’s fine. I can stop by…”

“Tonight? I can text you the address.”

Skip laughed. “Do you want me to bring them pizza, too?”

“They’re more the tamales type…” Eddy smiled.

“After this they’d better be bringing me tamales!”

“I’m sure Marissa will. Thank you, Skip.”

“Hey, Eddy?” Skip stepped closer to the deputy. “Not a word of this, okay? It’s bad enough that rumors are getting around. Shit’s already rolling downhill…”

“Yeah, yeah, Skip. Not a word. I’ll make sure Marissa doesn’t say anything, either.”

“Please,” Skip opened the door to the Explorer.

“Oh, one more thing, Skip?” Eddy stopped him.

“What now?”

“Maybe, you know, don’t show up in uniform… if you know what I mean?”

“No need to make anyone nervous. I’ve got to go take care of Milo. I’ll change and then head over there in,” he looked at his watch. “Hour? Hour and a half? Let ‘em know I’m coming?”

“Thanks Skip!”

“Pork, Eddy.”

“Skip?”

“Tamales. The pork tamales Maria makes.”

“You got it, Skip.”

An hour and a half later, Skip led Milo across a collapsed section of Ridgecrest Drive. Five or six winters ago the hillside above the highway slid, blocking the main thoroughfare for days and taking a good chunk of Ridgecrest Drive down with it. The pace of road repairs — especially in this unincorporated section of rural west county — ran at a glacial pace, and as Skip led Milo across the narrow strip of asphalt that still remained over the chasm he wondered if it would ever get repaired.

Skip knew the address Eddy had texted him. He knew it personally because he and Milo walked this way at least once a week, and he knew it professionally because about a dozen laborers at any given time shared the three bedroom house and packing that many people into that little floor space eventually caused the kind of problems you call the sheriff over… Or the kind of non-problems the white vacationers in the surrounding AirBNBs called the sheriff over, more often than not.

As Skip approached, three men stood on the porch, two smoking cigarettes. “Evening,” Skip said. “Is one of you Diego?”

The two men smoking looked at each other then one said, “No. No Diego here.” The third man laughed.

Skip rolled his eyes. “Eddy sent me. Eddy Rodriguez?”

“Oh, I’m Diego,” said the one who had just denied being Diego. “This is Jesus. Thanks for coming, Sheriff.”

Skip stepped up on the porch, “It’s just Skip tonight, Diego.” He shook both men’s hands. He turned to the man not smoking, “You must be the problem around here.”

Diego and Jesus looked at each other confused.

“You can see me?”

“Yeah, I can see you.” Skip looked at the confused faces around him and said, “It’s your ghost.”

“No shit? He’s right here?” Jesus said.

“No shit,” Skip said looking at the ghost, “You’re right here.”

“I didn’t mean any trouble,” the ghost said.

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“I just… can’t go until I know my sister is okay.”

“Your sister?”

“I had money I’d saved. I was going to mail it to her in Juarez, but…”

“…But you died.” The ghost nodded. “What’s your name?”

“Enrique. Enrique Perez.”

Skip turned to Diego. “Who is Enrique Perez?”

Diego shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Did he live here?”

“I haven’t lived here that long…”

Jesus punched Diego in the arm, “Yeah, I remember that dude. I told you about him. He died in that car accident in Windsor last year?”

“Oh, you mean the guy with the head and the…” he motioned with his hands around his head in a flattening gesture.”

“Yeah! That guy!” Jesus said.

“Yeah, I’m that guy,” Enrique said sadly.

“What’d you do with his stuff?” Skip asked.

“Uh… I think Raul boxed it up… Might be in the attic. He didn’t leave any forwarding address or anything…”

“Yeah, my stuff is in the attic. That’s why I hang out there.”

“Let me guess, you guys hear a lot of steps and stuff from the attic?”

“Oh shit,” Jesus said. “That’s Enrique? No shit!”

“Enrique,” Skip turned to him. “Is everything up there for your sister?” Enrique nodded. Skip took out a small steno note pad and a pen. “Alright, what’s her address?” Skip wrote it down, tore the paper out and handed it to Diego. “Send his stuff to his sister at this address. Everything. Do it, and Enrique is out of here. Got it?”

“That’s it?” Diego asked.

“Yeah, that’s it. Don’t forget. Enrique knows me now and he’ll tell me if you don’t.”

“I will?” Enrique asked.

Skip gave him a barely perceptible nod. “If that happens I’m coming back in the Sheriff’s truck. Got it?”

“I’ll go talk to Raul now. I’ll get it off tomorrow, okay Skip?”

“Good.” Skip started to walk off the porch.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Enrique followed him.

“Nothing. Be a good ghost. Be a fucking Casper the Friendly ghost. If Diego doesn’t take care of that,” he threw a glance over his shoulder and Diego nodded and headed inside, “you come find me.”

“Oh, okay….” he said hesitantly.

“And don’t go down by the river.”

“No way,” Enrique said, eyes wide. “That’s where La Llorona lives.”

“Yep,” Skip said. “Have a good night, all,” and Skip and Milo headed for home.