© 1 March / 2025 Levite
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1.
The joke going around the office was that I had solved all the ghost cases and now I had to just work on regular Sheriff's Office duties.
It seemed that it wasn't a joke, no unusual, paranormal, or just plain odd cases came up for quite a while. I even spoke to Miss Leondra about the sightings at the marina.
"Now that they know who it is, and why she's still here, they're OK with Nancy being there." She said, and I could see her perfect smile without my call being on video. "They've even granted her a membership so now she actually belongs there."
That was good news for the marina, and, I guess, for Nancy, but it didn't get me out of the office except to do a safety inspection of another county agency's office.
And it went on like that for the last two weeks of May.
I had a couple of real dates with Derek, and instead of eating pizza while sitting in an old house and being interrupted by a demon, we sat in a restaurant and never got our meal because the waitress actually forgot about us and went on her own lunch break. So we went to a different place and had a wonderful time.
I even went to several other historic sites that were on the list, but they didn't report enough activity to warrant my spending more than an hour or so getting background readings and taking a photo of a reflection off some glossy wallpaper that explained what had been seen in the place.
So when a museum sent me an email asking if I could do a discrete investigation and determine if something was actually going on it was something of a relief.
I called the lady from the email and we had a long conversation. Then we set up an appointment for me to come out the following Monday, when the museum was closed, to meet with her and the director.
The museum lady even wanted me to park in the side lot with the other normal staff so if anybody drove by they wouldn't see anything unusual going on.
"Everybody knows that Monday is our cleaning and organizing day," she said.
She had a point. Somebody might think it was unusual to have a police car parked in front of the place on the day it was closed. So I drove to the side of the building and parked between a couple of the other cars.
"Please, please. Welcome. Come on in. Welcome, indeed. Come in. Have you ever been here before?" A smiling gentleman said to me as I walked toward the building.
"You were expecting me?" I asked.
"Yes, yes, Sandy said you would be here first thing this morning. First thing." He held the door for me, "I've heard about your cases, and it was my idea to call you about what's been going on since the items arrived. I checked with Parker over at the Historical Office and he told me all about how you've been working with his staff on their properties. "
"And you are?" I asked him.
His smile never wavered, and he continued to speak almost faster than I could listen. "Oh, oh, my name is Terry Howard, I'm the Exhibition Director here. Sandy is the one that emailed you, when I mentioned that you'd be the perfect one to handle our issue, she was right on it. Right on it. This way. This way." He directed me into the office section, and went back to lock the door behind us.
It would seem that Mr. Howard liked to smile, and talk, and to speak very quickly in double action, which made it difficult to have a conversation with him.
Ms Sandy was smiling, but she didn't speak in double action.
"Welcome to the museum," she said, "have you ever been here before?"
"Mister Howard asked me that, but I didn't have a chance to answer. Yes, I have, although it's been a few years. You were hosting a special traveling exhibit of Chinese Charcoal drawings."
"I remember those, it has been a few years. You'll notice some things have changed, and some have not." She nodded, "Like that exhibit, we have a nice mix of art and history. And the history doesn't change, much. But sometimes it does, and we get in new things, and that's why we called you."
"Because you got in new things? Or you got in new old things, and something came with them."
Ms Sandy laughed, "That last one."
We walked over to the elevator and then went up to the second floor and back in history. We passed a sign that introduced the section as being the 1850 - 1900 Gallery: Electricity Comes to Long Island. And then she took me to the left into the 'Before Electrification' section.
"Most of these displays were given to the museum by a couple of the long term families in the area," Ms Sandy explained, "one of them wished to remain anonymous, so the donor is not identified."
There was the usual array of treadle sewing machines and oil lamps. As well as some other things like a real ice box, and a bed warmer that was supposed to be able to hold live coals out of the fire without setting your bed ablaze.
"Here we are," Ms Sandy said at the next display which was in the middle of the passage so visitors could walk around it and see it from all sides.
This was was a slice of life as electrical power was introduced in the eighteen eighties and nineties and on into the turn of the century.
The setting was what appeared to be some sort of professional office, that contained several vintage electrical devices, some of which looked positively terrifying, like a turn of the century electric space heater with nothing to stop anything, or any body, from getting too close to the heating element.
Ms Sandy explained the display, "Most of this came out of the storage building of one family,. Most of it had been used by their great-great-grandfather in his office not too far from here... ages ago. They had no idea why their family had kept it for so long."
On one side of the desk was an electric fan that came on and the blades turned and generated a reasonably good breeze when Ms Sandy pushed a button on the railing around the display. And it did so with no cage or guard around the spinning metal blades and an arc of sparks could be seen inside the motor. A sign introduced the item as an early AC current fan from 1894 or 95.
The other side of the desk was occupied by two vintage telephones. The card explained that for a time, in the very early days, that there were competing, and incompatible, telephone companies on the Island. On a stand in front of the desk was an 1888 stock market ticker. The sign said it was one of 'a thousand' of the devices scattered around greater New York City. Along the walkway on each side was a sample of the original ticker tape with stock quotes from when the machine was still in use, in the case of the one on my side, it gave the prices from a day in September of 1912.
"As you can see, we tried to make it look like Mister Smith, which is what we call him because the family didn't want their name used. That Mister Smith would feel like he was in his own office. We're fortunate because we had three photos to work from."
She stood at the partial back wall and showed me two of the photos, "We can't put the third on display because it has him in it, and somebody might recognize him."
His secretary's desk had another electric fan, this one with a rather ineffective looking grill around the blades, and an ancient desk light, both centered around a vintage manual typewriter, and another telephone that appeared to be the same model as one on the other desk.
Then we heard Mr. Howard coming from the other end of the section.
He was talking. Of course.
When we could finally understand what he was saying he was asking is Ms Sandy if she'd told me about the dairy barn objects being rearranged.
I followed her eyes as she turned to the right and back between a laundry with a hand cranked washing machine and a display that looked like a retail point of sale with a cash register with a hand lever on the side was a milking stall with a life sized cow figure and a three legged stool. There was an old cream separator and a couple of types of butter churns, with a large map of the heyday of Long Island's dairy industry. On the shelves were a variety of milk bottles and different types of butter packaging, and the old style milk bottle tote with a well worn handle on it.
"No, I saved that for you," Ms Sandy said when he joined us.
Mr. Howard talked fast, and with a significant amount of double action, and he switched topics from specific details to general matters now and then, but I tried to follow along.
Ms Sandy leaned over to me while Mr. Howard was using both arms to indicate where another display had been and whispered to me, "Don't worry Detective, when he's done I'll go back through the highlights for you."
"Thank you, ma'am."
Finally, Mr. Howard coasted to a stop, "I think that's about everything that's happened since we installed the 1890s office," he said.
"Thank you, sir. That was a lot to take in." I nodded to the display, "I'll go out and get my bag and take some background readings. If I have any questions I'll ask."
"I've got to run out to a patron's luncheon, but Sandy will be here all day."
"I'll come with you to get your things and let you back in. We have to keep the doors locked on Monday."
"That'll be wonderful, thank you."
While we walked back down to the main entrance Ms Sandy explained that they knew what had caused some of the issues Mr. Howard had talked about.
"We have volunteers on the cleaning crew, and sometimes they get a little enthusiastic about dusting, but not so enthusiastic about putting things back exactly where they were."
"Understandable."
She continued, "But there have been several things that have happened on nights when there was no cleaning crew, and we know for a fact that there was nobody in the building. We do have security cameras in the main hallways and the stairs, and the alarm system covers every exterior door." She pointed up to an older, but still quite good camera that was pointed down the hallway we just walked along.
"I'd like to look at what's covered by the cameras."
"Of course, as soon as we get your things we'll stop by the office and I'll show you."
2.
While the cameras did have a good view of the main areas of the museum, they didn't show much of the exhibit areas at all. And, of course, none of them covered the section where the activity had been reported.
While I talked to Ms. Sandy I mentioned that sometimes the best way to solve one of these mysteries was to be there during the time when the activity is usually reported.
"We talked about that," she answered. "and there's a couch in the break room that I've taken a nap on when we've had evening functions. I'll give you the key we give to some of our volunteer docents and the alarm code for the staff door. You can stay as long as you want. Just let the alarm reset when you leave and make sure the staff door is locked."
"Yes, ma'am."
Fifteen minutes later I was upstairs, with the main lights off in the gallery, and only the desk lights on in the office display and a few odd lights on in the other displays around it taking background EMF readings and just getting a feel for the place which included opening the gate in the railing around the display and walking through it taking readings and looking closely at the various items.
After I did that, I put my directional recorder on the main desk right in front of the large, almost stately, wooden desk chair with a stamped and padded leather back, in the center of the old style blotter, then I tagged it by saying where and when it was. And then I put the general recorder on the secretary's desk. Then being as quiet as I could I walked around and took several photos with the full spectrum camera from inside and outside the railing using only the ambient light.
And then when I walked back into the office display I noticed that my recorder was laying flat just off the far side of the blotter.
I didn't move. Instead I looked at the screen on my camera and found the photos I'd taken of that end of the office.
"Well, hello." I said to the desk.
There was a definite hint of misty light in the center of the chair that wasn't the reflection of the other lights off the leather.
In that photo you could see the recorder standing on end in the center of the desk pad. I went through several others, and the glow was sometimes fainter, and sometimes a bit brighter, and then in the one from outside looking in, it was just barely visible. But the recorder was still standing in the middle of the pad.
In a photo I'd taken from the far end of the gallery several minutes later I could see the recorder was lying on the blotter several inches from where it had been standing. If it had just fallen over, it couldn't have landed where it was now, or fall and then slide some distance to where I found it, which it couldn't have done on its own. It had to have had help.
I slowly walked over and just made sure the recorder was still on, then, leaving it there, I asked a couple of questions.
"Good day. My name is Elaine. Is this your office?"
I waited for a moment, then asked their name, and then I asked if they'd noticed that their office had moved. Finally I stepped back and took a couple more photos of each desk and the large wooden lateral filing cabinet.
After another question I thanked whoever was in the office for their time and collected my toys and walked back down to the museum office where I'd left my laptop and other gear.
I got a glass of water and settled into the corner desk used by the museum volunteer that managed their social media accounts and woke up my laptop. Then I downloaded what the directional recorder had picked up while it was on the big desk.
"OK. Let's see what we got," I said to myself when I saw that it had detected something that was behind the unit from the way it was first sitting. Which I verified in the first photo I'd taken, the small indicator screen that told me it was on, and the batteries were full, and it was facing the front of the desk when it was in the center of the blotter.
".... this shouldn't be here...."
The voice was soft, but unmistakably female.
Then in a moment there was a sort of shuffling sound that was probably the recorder being moved.
Later in the recording I could hear my questions, but there was only one answer. When I asked if it was their office.
" yes.... I work here."
It was the same woman's voice, and it was much further from the recorder.
The key to the whole thing came when I checked what was on the other recorder.
".... there's one on my desk too.... why?"
I went out and found Ms. Sandy because I had a question for her.
"Yes, ma'am. You said you had a file of information for the docents and anybody else interested in individual items in the displays."
"Yes, it's in the resource room."
"Can I see the file about the furniture in the office?"
"Certainly. I'll come show you where it's at."
There was more information about the secretary, Jane, and her desk, than I expected. Including the fact that the old typewriter was hers. Purchased for her several years before she had retired. And was also used by her successor, her own daughter-in-law, until it was replaced by a newer model several years later.
I made copies of several of the documents, and another photo that showed Jane and her boss in the office. Both smiling and holding an appreciation certificate from a local charity during the WWI years. Then I went back upstairs to the office.
I let the area settle down after I put my recorders back out, including putting one right in the middle of the blotter again. Then I took some full spectrum camera photos and checked them on the small screen for the glow I'd seen earlier, but I didn't see it around, then I mounted that camera on a tripod and left it on taking a photo every so often from outside looking in.
After a few minutes I introduced myself and then asked a few basic questions. Then I just sat on the old bus stop style bench out in the walkway and just waited.
Later Ms. Sandy came by and checked on me and said they were going to lock up for the day in about an hour, but I was welcome to stay as late as I wanted, "And you can come in tomorrow if you wish. It's always slow early in the mornings, but there is a school group coming in just before lunch." Then she paused and smiled, "I forgot to ask, have you found anything?"
I nodded, "Yes, I've had some interesting results and I'd like to continue the investigation today."
"Oh, well, OK....." Her smile vanished and I could see her thinking about it. "I don't know if that's good or bad."
"So far it's neither, but I'll bring you a full report when I'm finished and have had time to go through the evidence I've uncovered."
Her smile came back slowly, "OK. That'll be good. I'll see you later."
I let the room settle down after she left, then I said "Miss Sandy seems like a very nice woman, and a very efficient administrator for the museum. Do you like her?"
I waited a minute and asked a couple more questions.
3.
Then I took a break and told Ms Sandy that while she was still here I'd run out and get something to eat for a late lunch. "Oh, that's not problem," she answered, "And if you wish, if you order it I'll run out and pick it up for you so you can keep working. What do you like? I know everyplace around here."
I'd never had anybody offer to do that for me before. I thanked her and said I knew of a couple of pizza places not far away. We discussed them and she suggested a Mexican pizza from one of them.
"I've seen that on the menu, but I've never tried it," I answered, "OK, but I'll order something else just in case."
"That's a good idea."
I ordered and paid for it, and saved the delivery charge by putting in that Ms. Sandy would pick it up for me. Then I thanked her again and walked back up to the office display to see if anything had happened.
I had to go back through my latest photos to check, but the recorder that I had placed on the secretary's desk had been moved slightly.
"I'm going to take a lunch break in a few minutes, if you can tell me why you don't like my recorder being on your desk I'll hear what you say later."
I got the text message that my order had been picked up so I headed down to the staff break room and got there just as Ms Sandy was coming in with my boxes. I asked her if she wanted some and she begged off saying she'd eat with her husband later. Then she said that Mr. Howard had a late meeting with a sponsor of some of the exhibits and she didn't think he'd be in tonight.
"Thank you again, that'll make it easier to account for any odd sounds or motion."
She went to her office and got something, then she left and I was alone in the museum.
The Mexican pizza was good, but I'm not sure I'll ever order it again. I'm more of a traditionalist with my pizza choices.
I went back through the photos I'd taken earlier on my laptop, and then confirmed that the recorder on the larger desk was still where I'd put it this time. I got two more recorders out of my bag and checked their batteries, then I headed up to swap out those that had been on the desks.
It was late in the afternoon, but the museum was still and dark as I walked along toward the stairs.
Then I froze and turned on both recorders,
I turned in a slow circle holding them out in front of me.
There was whispering coming from the gallery on my left. I stepped that way and read the sign. The exhibit was a review of shore paintings and other artwork through the years.
I looked for a mundane source of the sound. There weren't any speakers in the ceiling, or an audio tour station next to any of the displayed objects.
I stood next to a model of an historic lighthouse, made by a group of school children, out of the sea shells and driftwood they had collected from local beaches. The whispering had gotten very soft, but had not stopped. Then as I looked around I heard it again.
The voice sounded like a man, and for the first time I got the impression that it wasn't speaking English. I followed it off to one side slightly and then I was certain that it was saying something in what sounded like French.
I stood still and watched as both of my recorders indicated they were detecting sounds. I tried to remember some French words and managed to say what I hoped was 'hello, who are you?' in the language.
There was a moment of total silence after I spoke, which proved that it wasn't something like a radio or a video display that was still playing its recording. I stood as still as the statues in the other gallery and took several pictures with the full spectrum camera in one hand and the two recorders in the other.
Then I heard the whispering again. It was coming from just off to my right, but it was less generalized and seemed to be originating in one spot. I watched as both recorders registered the sound. Then as it faded away again I whispered "merci" and went back to where my laptop was in the museum office.
I pulled the audio off the recorders and played them one after the other. The voice they recorded said the same thing, but one was a slightly better quality than the other. So I sent it off to a friend that speaks French. Then I made sure everything was saved and was checking the recorder's memory space and batteries when I got a reply with a note from my friend to call them.
"Yes, Elaine, I could hear it clearly," they said, "and you're right, it is French. And, just from the sound of the voice, I would say they're European, not Canadian."
I asked them what they thought it was saying and they laughed for a second.
"What would you expect a Frenchman to say in an art museum?" They asked, but I had no idea, "they said 'this is not art, this is a Sunday School craft.'"
"That was recorded next to the main entry display, and that's exactly what the thing looked like. Did they answer when I asked who it was?"
"Yes, but I could only really understand his first name, Dieudonne. The last name might have been Tarbori, or maybe Tarbouriessi, I listened to it a few times and it's something like that. It gets very faint there."
"That's what I heard," I agreed.
"There is one thing they didn't say."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I didn't hear them say anything about pizza."
I laughed, "that would have been my voice."
I thought about the name for a moment, then I remembered seeing something about a former art curator on the wall near the office. I went down the row of photos with names and dates below them until I came to the first black and white photo.
"Donne Tarbouriech, art curator, 1938 - 1951." I read from below the picture. "Well, OK." I said to myself, "But I still need to go upstairs again."
The recorder that I had left in the center of the big desk was still there. But when I checked it the batteries were dead.
The one on Miss Jane's desk was lying on its side not far from where I'd put it, but it was still recording.
I swapped both of them out for the ones I had that had most recently proved they can also record French, I waved at the motion activated camera on its tripod and went back downstairs.
I tested the batteries in the one from the big desk and found them to be so low they didn't even really test. At first I thought my meter was bad, but it worked fine on the new battery. Even the ones from that incident in the Irishman's house would test as really low. One of the two from the recorder upstairs didn't test at all, the other barely registered.
I had some more pizza while I downloaded the recordings and opened my audio player.
Once again I had the voice of Miss Jane saying there was something on her desk, from the recorder that was on her desk.
But I found what was on the directional recorder on the big desk far more interesting.
Just before the batteries failed, I heard something that the program said was from off to the recorder's right, and was just barely audible.
".... qu'est-ce ... que c'est " and then in a moment "... l'art? ....."
And then Miss Jane said, "... I don't know...."
".... merci beaucoup..."
"Wow."
4.
It took me a full day to go back through all the photos and audio that I had.
I had documented two totally different presences in the museum.
Miss Jane was apparently confined to the period office area around the things she had used on the job, and during 'business hours' when she would have used them. The one thing I couldn't decide with her was whether or not she was residual because she would respond. But her responses were limited to the context of the office, and even when I asked her where she'd go if she went out to lunch I got no response.
The other presence was far more interactive, and not confined to the period office display, and I had a name and had verified that Dieudonne Tarbouriech, was a curator here during the World War Two period, that he was from France, and he went by Donne at the museum because people could pronounce that.
According to the biographical information on Monsieur Tarbouriech, he had been totally dedicated to what he considered his art displays, and, barely tolerated the historical portion of the museum.
He was art curator until the day he died. ... ... ...
... which was in June of 1951.
The anniversary of his death was later this week.
He had spent the previous three days, all day and half the night, if the profile was to be believed, supervising, and personally assisting in the installation of a major show of several high profile Island artists. The Thursday before the show opened the following day, with a invitation only premier, he had gone home late. And didn't come in the next morning.
They found him slumped at his kitchen table. Dead. Still in the suit he always wore to work.
And then the case gets even more interesting.
Per his will, his ashes were supposed to be shipped back to France. But never arrived.
By air.
I couldn't help but wonder if the unclaimed ashes we'd found at the airport were Monsieur Tarbouriec. But there was no way to figure that out that I knew of.
I put everything I had together and scheduled a meeting at the Museum.
Where I had expected Mr. Howard and Ms. Sandy, I had a room full of those that were introduced as interested parties. Many of them were board members, a couple were a high level patrons or had sponsored an exhibit, and then later had questions about things that were noticed when they were there. One was from the family that had donated the majority of the period office display upstairs.
I introduced the Sheriff, who had taken a liking to accompanying me on reveals like this, and then I got started.
"And so, as you can see and hear, Miss Jane is attached to the items she had spent most of her adult life using. And her presence is almost completely residual. She is somewhat interactive, she can hear and see things, but only those that directly involve the office furnishings she is familiar with."
Ms Sandy thanked me for an interesting presentation, then asked those around the room if they had any questions before we wrapped up.
I held up my hand, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but there's more. And this is the really interesting part."
"Oh? I didn't know about anything else." She said.
"This." I said and played the first recording in French.
One of the board members spoke the language and laughed, "I've felt the same way about some of the modern exhibits," she said after she translated it.
"Except I was the only person in the building when that was recorded, and I don't speak any French that's not on a menu."
The Sheriff added a clarification, "You were the only Living person here."
"Well, yes."
"Oh, well. Then who was it?" The board member asked.
I played the recording of him saying his name, then I took great care explaining that Monsieur Dieudonne Tarbouriech, known here as Donne, felt a lot of pride in his art exhibits.
"And he's not residual. He's here, he's active, and he apparently knows when something changes.
"That explains things that the other did not," Ms Sandy said. "I've heard a voice here and there, but I always think it's a radio or something."
"Why is he speaking French?" Mr. Howard asked, "I've seen things from back then about him, and it's all in English."
"I think I've got an answer for that," I said and clicked to a newspaper article from the paper's archive in France. "The last thing he did, that night when he got home, was to do a telephone interview with a French newspaper about the exhibit. In the late edition, they even mention that this was shortly before the gentleman died."
There was a long silence.
"I thought you said you'd recorded him upstairs as well," the Sheriff said in a moment.
"Oh, yes. And this is the really fascinating part," I said and looked through the folder for the recording. "Listen." I said and played it from the beginning.
".... merci beaucoup..."
This time the silence was stunned.
"Can you play it again," the French speaker said.
"No problem."
"He says he doesn't know what it is," she said, "What's he talking about?"
"My directional recorder," I said and held up the unit, "It had spent most of the day on the big desk, right in the middle of the blotter."
"And then the female voice..."
I filled in the details, "Miss Jane, I'd recorded her earlier, and the directional recorder said she was standing right in front of the desk for this."
"She answered him, in English."
"Yes, and then he thanked her in French."
"Yes."
Mr. Howard was shaking his head, "Wait a minute. You've got a recording of one ghost talking to another one. It's real, and not a fake, or a joke, or something."
The Sheriff answered before I could, "My deputies do not fake evidence of any sort. Detective Elaine, this is the actual recording from that investigation."
"Yes, sir." I answered.
Mr. Howard was still shaking his head, and then stuttered for a second, "I don't even know what to say. I don't know..."
One of the board members had an answer for that, "Thank you, Detective, it is absolutely fascinating."
"Well, yes. Yes," Mr. Howard said, "But they're in the museum."
I nodded, "And they are part of it. Just as much as that Egyptian stela in the ancient gallery. They are here, and, as far as I can tell, Monsieur Donne isn't going anywhere. When the display of the period office goes back into storage in a few months, Miss Jane will likely go with it as it is the accumulated objects that focus her and allow her to interact with them, and to a degree, us."
"And with Monsieur Donne," somebody added.
"Well, yes, him too." I confirmed.
Mr. Howard didn't seem to like that answer, "So, so, we can't do anything?"
I asked him a question, "Other than occasionally moving things, or a bit of whispering in the halls, has anything bad happened?"
He sat for a moment, "No. No. Not that I know of."
"Then both of them are harmless. The best advice I can give is to leave them alone, do not try to provoke them into a negative reaction, and let them be. Monsieur Donne has been here for years, he may be more active right now because of the date, then he may well fade into the background again for a while."
He shook his head again, "well, OK. I guess. I don't know. I guess. I don't know."
Ms Sandy was smiling, "I'll take care of him. Thank you, Detective."
On the drive back to the office the Sheriff was grinning like he was trying to disappear.
"What?" I finally asked him when he didn't volunteer any information.
"I'm just wondering how long before there's a listing for a new director at the museum."
"I don't know, sir, but if there is, are you going to apply for it?"
"No. I don't think so. I really like this job."
"So do I."
-end 32-
[NOTE: The above story were written as adventure fiction, and is to be taken as such. While most of the features of Long Island exist,including several museums of various sorts, the rest of the setting is fictional.
Thank you, Dr. Leftover, TheMediaDesk.com]
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