Chapter Fifteen #2
Harper told her about her trip to Carmel, and yesterday’s visit to the antiquarian society, where she found Soren Perles’s account book.
Ellen had just opened a fresh tin of her favorite Danish butter cookies when Harper began to describe her experiences at the Perles Mansion with Detective Serrano.
“That basement was not on the blueprints at the historical society.”
“How odd. I do know that Delilah Mason did a great deal of work on that house when she moved in. It was a real service to the community,” Ellen said. “What’s the mansion like? I’ve always wanted to see inside.”
“It’s…pretty much what you’d expect. Lots of paintings, of course, and Delilah was apparently very fond of kitschy knickknacks and souvenirs.
Oh, hey, I wanted to ask you about something I found in the archive.
” She showed Ellen the photos she had taken of Soren’s account book. “Do these names mean anything to you?”
“Let me see,” Ellen said, and put on her reading glasses. “Oh, honey, those are graveyards.”
“They are?”
Ellen pulled up a map of the area on her phone. “Encinal and San Carlos are right next to each other—you passed them on the way into town. And El Carmelo is in Pacific Grove, not far. Not sure about La Vieja…”
“Maybe these names and initials are patients he lost, and he’s noting where they were buried?”
“I suppose they might be, but why would he do that? Besides, this area was pretty rural at the time. A lot of folks would have been buried at home, in a family cemetery.”
“Do these cemeteries still exist?”
Ellen chuckled. “Of course. What would one do with the bodies?”
“I read that when San Francisco needed more space, officials dug up almost all of the human remains in the city and relocated them to Colma.”
“City of the dead,” Ellen intoned with a nod.
“I read about that, as well. They say the deceased outnumber the living there, though I think that’s probably true everywhere, don’t you?
I mean, do we really know who might be lying beneath the earth we walk on, without benefit of a gravestone or marker? ”
“I never thought of that,” Harper said. “That lends a bit of perspective to things, doesn’t it?”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, sipping their tea.
“So,” Harper began. “There’s a strange mirror at the Perles Mansion.”
“Strange, how?”
“I don’t know, exactly. It’s very old, the silver flaking off the back. But…have you ever heard of that game, Bloody Mary?”
“I’ve heard of it, but you’ll have to tell me the details.”
“It was a slumber party game, along the lines of ‘light as a feather.’ You proved your courage by going into a dimly lit room—usually the bathroom—looking into the mirror, and reciting ‘Bloody Mary’ three times.”
“What’s supposed to happen then?”
“That depends. Some say Bloody Mary will appear and scratch your face off, or something else equally gruesome.”
“You still have a face, and a lovely one to boot. Shall I assume you never met this Bloody Mary apparition?”
Harper hesitated. “I never saw her, no. But…I once thought I saw my grandmother, clear as day, standing in the mirror behind me. But she wasn’t really there.
And the next day, she died. Later, when I was in college, my sister came for a visit, and was acting really out of character.
I saw her out the door later that night, but when I closed the door and turned around, she was in the mirror behind me. ”
“Standing at the door?”
“That’s the thing. The door was closed, and she was already in her car outside. There was no one behind me.”
“That sounds creepy.”
“It got worse. She held my eyes and gave me a slow, awful, evil smile.”
Ellen frowned. “Did it—did she—did this thing want something from you?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t brave enough to find out. I made my boyfriend get rid of the mirror, and have avoided them ever since.”
“I don’t blame you. Whatever happened with your sister?”
“She…she’s had a lot of problems with substance abuse.” The last thing Harper wanted to think about right now was her sister, Scout. “But she didn’t die a gruesome death or anything along those lines.” As far as I know.
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“It turns out that there’s a scientific explanation for this kind of thing,” Harper said, toying with the scalloped edge of the saucer.
“Apparently, the longer you look into a mirror, the more likely you are to start seeing things that aren’t there.
There’s a phenomenon called Troxler fading: Our peripheral vision starts to fade when we stare at something for a prolonged period of time.
When our brains adapt to the unchanging stimuli, it decides the information is no longer necessary, so things start to blur, appear distorted, or sometimes disappear altogether until you blink or look around. ”
“Interesting. But how does that explain what you saw?”
“It doesn’t. Not really. But an Italian scientist found that after a while, some people staring at a mirror begin to see faces in the background.
He called it the ‘strange face in the mirror’ illusion.
He suggested that the human brain is adept at ‘seeing’ faces in random patterns and objects—clouds, pieces of toast, a misshapen apple—and fills in the blanks.
” Harper shook her head and changed the subject.
“But speaking of seeing things that aren’t there, I wanted to ask you about Tariq. ”
“He’s seeing things that aren’t there?”
“What? Oh no. I want to be sure I’m not. It’s just that while Tariq seems like a genuinely nice guy, I’ve never been a very good judge of character. Especially where men are concerned. I was wondering how well you knew him.”
“He and my boy were friends in high school. As far as I could tell, he was a decent kid, quiet, and probably too smart for his own good. I do know that his brother died when Tariq was young, only eleven or twelve. It was a terrible time for his parents, as you can imagine. Sometimes when a child dies, the parents are so consumed with grief that the surviving siblings are forgotten. Abandoned, in a way.”
“He told me he was arrested for stealing a car when he was fourteen.”
“I’d heard he got into trouble, but I don’t know the details,” said Ellen. “My son might know more. I could ask him the next time he calls, if you like.”
“Thanks.”
“As a former teacher, I do know that when children aren’t getting what they need, they have a way of letting grown-ups know. Even if that means breaking the law. I’ll see what I can find out for you.”