Murder at McCallen Estates

I believe in ghosts. I am both scared to death and fascinated by them all at once. Have I ever met a ghost? I think I did once, in the basement of a brand-new condo in Westerville when I lived with the two Kristens. That story could easily be chalked up to an active imagination and a very dark room, but if you were there with me (and no one was), you might feel otherwise.

Today's ghost story is much more like a page out of CSI. As a matter of fact, there is compelling evidence of a crime... or at least of a careless construction manager.

And then we have evidence we can't explain... hence the ghost part.

So let's start at the top. On Friday evening, I noticed a strange, earthy & stale smell coming from the closet in the master bedroom of our house. My first thought was that I'd lost one of David's socks behind a laundry basket or a set of drawers. Nope.

A soft whisper of cool air made me turn my attention north... to the ceiling in our closet, which also happens to be our attic access panel. We have only moved that panel once since we bought our house two years ago. As a matter of fact, it was the home inspection technician who propped it up and then shimmied it back into place. I do feel it's fair to note at this time that one corner of the access panel never fit tightly. There was always a tiny crack that would leak cool air in winter. No biggie.

But when I looked up on Friday, there was no longer a crack. Instead, it looked as if the panel had been removed. I thought, "That's new."



What's a gal to do? "David! Did you move this?"

"Nope."

"Darn."

I took a closer look and was dismayed to see that not only was the panel off the ledge where it usually rests, it was pulled up and into the crawl space. That paneling you see in the picture below is part of the attic (and NOT our bedroom, thank goodness!). The brown piece of trim that squares off the hole beneath it is where the panel usually fits.



Racking my brain for who (what?) could have moved the panel, I came up empty.

The logical side of me has determined we must have a stray raccoon up there... one we've never heard running around, and one who was able to pry the panel upward nearly 8–10 inches and then rest it on the framing above. (You're right... we need to capture that raccoon since it obviously has a career in Hollywood as a stunt coon.) You can see its handiwork above.

My illogical side hasn't stopped screaming, "Ghost! You've got a ghost!!!" And yes, with every picture I took, I was waiting for a face to appear, pale white in the flash and stiff with death. No dice, thank goodness.

But it gets better.

Saturday morning, David begins clearing out the cement shambles where our steps used to be. Once the big stuff was gone, he began raking and smoothing the ground below.



Feeling the CSI suspense building?

First, it was just a few rags. Red rags. (REDRUM, REDRUM)



But then his rake caught a larger piece of cotton... a sleeve. Oh crap. He pulled out of the dirt an entire woman's blouse, complete with tears and holes we hope were made by insects.



So, why was the blouse there? Careless housekeeper or sloppy construction worker? Love affair cover-up? Or, country murder with a perfect spot to dispose of a body?

We will never know. We didn't dig even an inch deeper. Nuh-uh! I prefer not knowing what's (who's) down below.

When David dug the outer posts today, he also discovered a rug buried under the grass. It was small, thank goodness, and it wasn't rolled or wrapped around anything. I choose to think that the man who built our house did not believe in taking out the garbage. Instead, he must have subscribed to the "bury it" theory (cheap bugger). Or he was an axe murderer. Take your pick.

Of course, now that we found a blouse and an open attic access panel, I'm thinking the lady ghost is living in our attic. Judging from the size of her shirt, I'd say she could easily fit in my clothes. Perhaps that explains the panel... she obviously needed something new to wear!

So mysterious...