Elaine Investigates, Two: A Light in the Fog

©1 January 2025 Levite
http://themediadesk

1.
      Long Island is famous for its lighthouses along the coast. There's well over a dozen of them with historic status, and another dozen or so that are considered scenic or even idyllic. You see photographers and painters all around several of them day and night during tourist season.
      And then there are several more on interior waterways. Most of these are smaller, and nowhere near as picturesque. Some of these had even been built by mariners, or former mariners, to keep the fishing boats that traveled in and out of the creeks and bays off the sandbars and shoals that plagued the streams and caused untold numbers of boats to run aground on them.
      As commercial traffic began to rely less on line of sight for navigation some lighthouses both along the coast and in the interior began to fall into disrepair, and more than a few of the interior ones were abandoned. Some of those were of enough historic significance to be taken over by a municipality as a symbol of the town, and so on. Others were abandoned and left to fall into ruin and then torn down. In one case, the support structure was incorporated into a new building that became "the old light tavern", which was later abandoned and left to fall into ruin and then torn down.

      I was still working on the final report about the long forgotten railroad accident when a report about a repeat trespasser on private property came in. The owner of a boat storage building had reported seeing the trespasser on the security camera mounted on the building. The County Police had dispatched officers several times, and the landowner had even set up a hidden camera away from the building to try to catch the trespasser, but so far all they'd seen was something in the mist along the inlet, and all that was photographed was a stray dog and more mist, even while the camera on the building could see somebody out by the water. Every time it seemed to be where the old foundation pilings for a long demolished lighthouse had been.
      The County Police asked the Sheriff if he had any ideas, and his idea was to send me out to look at the place and think about it.
      Of course I objected, "I am not the Suffolk County Paranormal Investigator."
      He just looked at me with That look and about half chuckled to himself, "No. But you'll do until we hire one."
      I nodded, "You heard about the whispering on the causeway."
      "And that you solved the case. So now you get this one."
      "I guess that teaches me what happens when you're good at your job."
      He laughed, "Too late to change now."

      Part of my being 'good at my job' was being willing to get and learn how to use something like a full spectrum camera. I found out, a little late as it turned out, that maybe, and it was just a maybe, something like that would have caught an image of somebody out on the rail causeway.
      Well, I didn't even know such a thing existed. But now I had one, and had spent some time, and watched some good, and some bad, videos on how to use it and when.
      And so I drove out to Mill Road near the city of Mattituck and tried to find the location along the river.

2.
      There are some places on Long Island where it is appropriate to say "you can't get there from here, you've got to go someplace else and then go there." This was one of them.
      On the map, the site was Right There, but unless your car can either swim or wade through a marsh that may well be bottomless, you have to take the scenic way to get there. One of the things I wondered about on the drive out there was if they've ever had a pizza arrive while it was still hot.

      It was an honest mistake. My directions simply said "Mill Road" to "Cove Road". I was on West Mill Road. There was no Cove Road.
      The site with the misty photos was off East Mill Road. I had gone as far as I could along West Mill Road and was now looking at where I should be on Cove Road just before the end of East Mill.
      Nowadays there is no direct connection from one to the other across the Mattituck Inlet. The drawbridge that had been just downstream had been removed years and years ago. To get to where I should be just across the water was a half hour's drive, again, through scenic countryside to be sure, but a good twenty miles or more away.
      However, my unique vantage point did give me a good perspective on the location.
      One large piling was visible just offshore in the creek, indicating where the old building had been for a hundred years or more. Several others were leaning this way or that, and at varying heights back in the mud, and what may have been an old walkway continued inland. But now nature was slowing reclaiming all of it.
      I looked up and down the river at the ranks of boats tied up. There were brand new, still with a dealership sticker on the window, pleasure boats tied up one slip down from aging working boats like small operation crab and oyster craft and fishing boats.

      According to the reports from the land owner, the intruder would walk along the water line toward the old pilings from near their dock just upstream from the new boat ramp and building. But from this side of the river I didn't see how that was possible. The shoreline, such as it was, was a collection of cattails and marsh grass growing out of the mud that would be all but impossible to move through easily. Also, from the reports, the owner never saw a car or boat that they had used to get to the spot.
      In any case, I wasn't going to find a good answer from this side of the inlet. I took some photographs of the area across the water, then I got in my car and drove around to that side and down East Mill until I found the driveway.
      I drove around the house and down the obviously newer lane to the out building, ramp and dock.

      I knew where the pilings were from my expedition to the other side of the inlet, but from this side it was hard to find them. Finally I walked over to the building owned by the citizen that had complained and looked up and down the waterway. From next to the boat ramp to the building I could see the first couple of pilings off to my left.
      I stood under the camera mounted on the corner of the building and tried to judge the angle against what the one on the pole near the driveway could see. From what I could determine, the local high school's marching band could parade along the high water mark, and the pole camera would never see anything except the top of the drum major's hat... and maybe the bell of a Sousaphone or two. I made a note to myself that when I talked to the owner to suggest he raise the camera on the pole a couple of feet.
      It wasn't until I went out on the somewhat less than stable dock that I could see well back into the mud where the other old pilings were.
      It wasn't until I was walking back up the dock that I saw some old lumber in the mud that may have been a walkway from this side to the old building. But now they were more of an example of what partial submersion in brackish water and mud for the better part of a century will do to even marine grade treated lumber. Anybody trying to use that to walk on would spend more time in the mud than out of it, which would leave a clear trail for days.

      I stood back by the boat house and considered whether or not they were seeing the mast or other high rigging of a small boat, or maybe one of our larger coastal birds was cruising along and the camera caught it at an odd angle. But that didn't seem likely given the description by the owner. Still, it was worth trying to debunk those ideas as well.
      There were a couple of likely looking spots where I could watch for whoever, or whatever, was out here from this side, but there was no way I could do it without them knowing I was here watching. Even if I had set up my own cameras, they'd be something new and be noticed on this side right away. If I did come out and do a shift of surveillance, I would go back to West Mill Road and park by the boat hoist where I had an unobstructed view of everything on this side between the boat ramp to well upstream of the old pilings. That way if it were a small boat or large bird, I'd see it and would have the images from over there to compare to the owner's camera by time stamp. And while I was over there, I'd check around and get permission to put up a couple of the department's own cameras to watch the area for the next few nights.

      But in the mean time I wanted to go run the property records and find out exactly what sort of light had been there, and when it had been there. Just judging from the condition and style of the pilings and how they had been joined together I was guessing that they had been put in around 1900, and from where they were, how big they were, and how many had been there, my guess was that they were for something a good deal larger than an average inland waterway light.

      I waded through property records and old maps. I found it odd that sometimes there would be the indication that something was on that side of the river, but then a year or so later, there wouldn't be, and then a few years later, whatever had been there would be back. Except I didn't see any record of a fire or storm damage that took whatever had been there out of service.

      I even found a set of period postcards that showed the fishing charter docks along the Mattituck Inlet from the 1920s and 30s, which reminded me of the heyday of train travel out here for weekends and holidays from the City.
      One of the cards was a very stylized hand colored photograph looking up the channel from the drawbridge near what was even then called "the old mill". Behind the various boats I could see what appeared to be a wood shingled building that appeared to have a thin light tower at one corner.
      That was enough for me to now be convinced that something was there long ago. And if something was there then, maybe something was going on related to it now.

      When I went back across the river it took some doing, and some convincing that I wasn't trying to catch illegal crabbers, or somebody letting tourists take prohibited recreational substances out on day trips, but I was instead looking at something going on on land across the inlet.

      Then I asked Old Mister Hawkins if he'd noticed anything when he was out here at night.
      "Well, now that you mention it, miss, yes." He stopped for a moment, something he did after almost every sentence. I just waited, and he got going again. "Every now and then I'll be out here, you know to look after things with the boats, and check on things." Another pause. "And then, you know, see something moving over there. Where the old fisherman's shack and light was."
      "Did that building look like this?" I asked him and found the image from the postcard on my phone.
      He squinted at it for a moment, "Oh, yes ma'am, that's it. It burnt down, oh, I don't know, maybe in the seventies. I don't know. It'd been closed a long time before that."
      I nodded, the Army Corps of Engineers maintained the channel, but private property was another matter. "Do you know who owned it?"
      "Oh, no ma'am. I have no idea. But..." he paused and looked back across the water, "We all called him Fisher, I don't know his right name, he was their dock master and kept the light working. They put the light up when boats kept running aground on their side of the river. A long time ago." He looked out and shook his head. "I remember one of them actually hit their dock and sank, right out there, even with the big light on, the fog was too thick, they shouldn't have been trying to get out." Pause. "Then ol' Fisher put some lights on the piles. I was down here fishing with my own dad then. So that'd been, in the fifties." Pause. "This has been our dock and boat house for four generations now."

      Young Mister Hawkins, the old one's grandson, even helped me put up the cameras and helped me find the best vantage point for my own surveillance.

      He'd seen something moving in the marsh grass across the creek once in awhile but always thought it was a fox or something. "If you're fishing on a dock and don't watch it, they'll come and snatch your bait when your not looking."
      I laughed, "I've heard of that happening."

      I thanked him for his assistance and said I'd be back every day or so to collect the memory cards and see if anything turned up.
      "Let me know what you find," young Mr. Hawkins said as I shook hands with both of them.
      "I'll do that."

      I even set my alarm for "oh, dark thirty" a couple of times and drove out there and then sat and watched from a couple of different locations.
      The docks were never totally dead and deserted. If it were high tide, boats were coming in or going out. If it were low tide, people were working either on the boats doing maintenance or up in the sheds and other buildings repairing gear and prepping bait getting ready for the next run.
      But I was able to cruise along slowly, making an attempt to act like I belonged down there. Since it was my third trip, a couple of the fishermen recognized me and my car and waved and nodded to me.
      Then I parked next to the Hawkins boat and turned everything off and let the sounds of the night filter in while I sat and watched growing wisps of fog roil along the top of the water.
      When I got out of my car and looked around at the dark buildings and boats I felt that old sense of dread begin in me that many women feel in this sort of situation. But to combat that dread, and as a nod to my job and just plain old self preservation, I've been taking Muay Thai and Judo classes since I was a teenager. I know it's an odd combination, but years ago my Thai fighting instructor was away for awhile and I didn't want to stop training, they had an opening in a Judo class, and the rest is history. Now, for Muay Thai, I am an assistant instructor to get women, and some men, acquainted with it and learning the basics, and with Judo I simply earned my second degree black belt just to do it.
      So this evening, when I got out of my car and looked around, I did so confidently, and when that bit of nervousness tried to get started, I whispered my "chok di" phrase, "good luck" before entering the ring in Muay Thai, and went to look around.

      No, even after hearing what I had heard on the causeway I still do not believe in ghosts. At least not like the ones you see in old movies and on TV shows about plantations down south. But I do believe that the energy of a living person can persist for some time after their body stops functioning. And, just perhaps, when the right circumstances occur, like a rain storm along the railroad, that energy can.... well, get our attention.
      For those that wish to disagree with that assessment, do I need to remind you of the first law of thermodynamics?

3.
      It was just after four AM.
      I was almost out of coffee.
      I'd already made one trip over to the old privy next to the boathouse.
      Now I was standing next to the large boat lift looking out at the fog that seemed to be attracted to the reeds and grass across the inlet when I realized I was watching something drifting along against the incoming fog.
      No, it wasn't my eyes. It wasn't a fox or a opossum looking for fish bait.
      Whatever it was was just slightly self-illuminating. Just barely. Almost like that foxfire fungus you sometimes find around dead trees. Except this had a blue tint to it instead of green, and wasn't quite that bright. And there was no doubt that it was moving.
      And it was moving against the thickening fog that was drifting in off the water. And it was slow.

      I moved so slowly getting my new camera up and aimed that maybe it was moving faster than I was. But then I had it in frame and shot several still images as well as some video of it.
      Then I went back to just watching.

      It finally got to where I think four groups of old pilings were clustered together, which, according to the postcard and what Old Mister Hawkins could remember, the light had been.
      Then as I watched it got just a little brighter for a minute or maybe two, then it faded to nothing.

      I was still wondering what I'd seen when two boats came by from upstream on their way out. The lead boat turned its spotlight on and focused it on the far bank to ensure they didn't get too close to that side as they made the turn with the channel.
      Without the spotlight it had been hard for me to tell where the water ended and the mud and grass started.

      I watched the area from next to the boat lift and my car until the sun was coming over the trees. Then I collected the used camera cards and replaced them with fresh blank ones. Then I headed toward the office.

      But first I stopped in a nice little breakfast place for a hot meal, a warm restroom, and someplace to sit without a steering wheel in front of me.

      Back at the office I went through the images on the mounted camera cards and my full spectrum. The only mounted one that showed anything was the camera on the post near the crane that had been set to record ten seconds of video every time it was activated.
      It's motion sensor did activate it a couple of times around when I saw the light moving. But the light was moving so slowly you had to compare this ten second clip with the next one to see that it had moved at all. But it was there, and it did move.
      One other camera had one still image of something across the inlet, in the fog, that might have been the light. Or it might not have been. It was impossible to say. And given the angle, and the fog, which appeared worse in this camera shot, I had trouble placing where the object would have been on the other side of the inlet.
      My effort with the new camera was a little better. You could see the light in some of the shots, and it appeared larger and more substantial than I could see, and that the other camera recorded, but it didn't look like a person at all.
      I saved several images from the night including ones with, and without, the fog and the slow motion light.
      Then I checked with the owner's mounted security cameras. There was one shot, that might have been the light. And another long distance shot of some strange woman across the river taking pictures of the boat house.

      From the other nights there wasn't anything except boat traffic, a few quite dramatic photos of birds flying along, one somewhat overly curious cat had visited two of the four cameras, and an embarrassing photo of a fisherman who decided not to visit the privy to relieve himself. Some photos I saved, others I deleted.

      I let the cameras run for another week, then, when I noticed that the marine forecast predicted early morning fog again, I set my alarm and got my things together.

      This time I was well prepared, with extra coffee and my own roll of toilet paper for the privy.

      This morning instead of the fog building up from growing wisps of vapor in the air over the water, the fog rolled in from out in the sound, up the inlet and then further inland in one solid bank.
      I'd never seen it come in like that. Yes, I'd been out in it after it had come in, but I'd never stood on a dock and watched a tsunami of fog, a literal London Pea Souper, come flowing in.

      But I had to tear my eyes away from the dense cloud coming in and watch across the inlet among the old pilings. Would the small dim light move along what appeared to be the back walkway once again?

      I still don't know if it did.
      I thought I saw it. Then I thought maybe I didn't. Then I watched and as the actual heavy blanket of fog swirled and moved in eddies and drifts I might have saw it again. I used both my phone and the new camera to try to catch it. I tried.
      All any of the cameras showed was fog. Fog. And more fog.
      But the fact that I think that I did see it, and the conditions in which I saw it, gave me an idea about what it might have been, and that there was something I could do about it. Well, I could do it with a bit of help.

      "If it is Fisher trying to light his light to keep the boats out in the channel, maybe we can give him some peace." I said to both the Older and the Younger Mister Hawkins.
      "It's worth doing," the older one said looking at one of the highly reflective safety disks. He nodded at his grandson. "High tide's a coming. Take the skiff."
      We got the tools and materials together and I handed them down to him on the boat. Then he proved he was a gentleman by making sure I didn't fall in when I climbed down to it.
      "Well, thank you." I said as I steadied myself and found a seat. "You being nice to me because I'm a cop or a woman?"
      "Well, both, and you're probably the prettiest woman to ever be in this boat."
      "Thank you, again." I said with a bit of a smile.
      It's always nice to hear something like that.

      My plan was to put a couple of the reflectors on each of the pilings that were closest to the water. I could see where they'd had them once upon a time. And on the one nearest the other owner's dock there had been some reflective tape installed years ago. But now most of the reflectors were broken or missing, and the tape had seen better days as well.
      So I spent a couple of very enjoyable hours trying not to get seasick, or wet, while Ben, the younger Mr. Hawkins maneuvered the small boat in close to the pilings and I drove a stainless steel screw into the piling with a drill to hold the reflector.

      I also recommended that the owner of the boat ramp and dock across the inlet installed a working night light on the pole nearest the dock. Which he did in a week or so.

      After that nobody reported anything unusual along the inlet for some time.
      Which I took as enough to mark the case closed and returned the folder to the Sheriff.

-end forgotten-

The Elaine Investigates index page.

[NOTE: The above story were written as adventure fiction, and is to be taken as such. While most of the geographical features of Suffolk County exist, including the Mattituck Inlet, the rest of the setting is fictional.
      Thank you, Dr. Leftover, TheMediaDesk.com]

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