ICY FINGERS

As Told By Doc Forgey and Pat Sherwood

Editor's Note: This is a story which I came upon when traveling in southern California.
It has been modified for campfire telling by Pat Sherwood, a Scoutmaster friend of mine.

Along the southern coast of California, nestled high in the rocky coastline, there was a great old stone mansion, where many years ago there lived a very wealthy and very wicked Spanish count. The house was grand, indeed, comprising four spacious floors, rooms that boasted high ceilings, beautifully ornate trim and large fireplaces. The magnificent hallways and banquet room were lined with exquisite tapestries, woodwork and paintings. The entrance was encased in a great stone façade that opened to a marble foyer with a large staircase. All of the grandeur centered around a giant patio. The west wall was completely constructed of glass and overlooked the ocean. The floor was tiled with large Spanish stone.

But this grand house has changed a great deal since the days of the count. It was taken over by a large conglomerate several years ago and converted into a business complex full of offices. The entire fourth floor is newly rented and occupied by a Japanese firm. As a matter of fact, it was still under construction when one of the American bookkeepers, a young woman by the name of Samantha Marie, actually met the spirit that for many years haunted the old building…the ghost of the Spanish count.

It seems that during this time of reconstruction, the second and third floors were still unoccupied. The bottom floor was vacant, except for some lumber, empty boxes, crates and barrels. It was this floor that led to the great patio. Legend had it that one night a duel was fought to the death by the wicked count and a famous Austrian prince. The count was supposedly killed, although his body was never found. It was assumed that the prince fled, never to be heard from again. No one really knows why the duel was fought. Some say it was over a beautiful Spanish lady with whom both were passionately in love, others say that it was because of the treasure the two had pilfered and which the count refused to share with his princely consort; and still others-the local Mexicans-just shrug their shoulders if asked, and say, "Quien sabe?"

Samantha's story started one day not long after her company moved into the complex. It seems that a young male clerk came bounding into her office one morning all excited and announced to the bookkeeper that he had encountered the famous ghost the previous night.

The clerk's excitement and the suddenness of his appearance so shocked the bookkeeper that Samantha gasped and dropped her pen, splattering red ink all over her smock and worse yet, on the ledger page that she had just added up. The page was ruined. Now she would have to redo it, all because of that idiot clerk!

"Now look what you've done!" she cried wrathfully, as she looked at the splotched work. "Will you just look at this mess, I wish you and your ghosts would get out of here!"

"I'm sorry Sam." The clerk said apologetically; "I'll fix it-it won't take a minute. But don't be mad at me, or I won't tell you about the ghost and you'll be sorry if you don't hear about it!"

"Then get on with it so I can finish up," she said. She was still upset, but the clerk was a nice kid and besides, he'd probably bug her to death until she agreed to listen to his story.

So, with all the excitement that can only come from youth, the young clerk started telling her how had had to work late the previous night. He also told her that he and Jeff, another employee, were to meet in his office. After he'd finished, they were to go to town for some late night entertainment. But it seems that while the clerk was waiting patiently in his office, Jeff had his supper and then laid down to rest for awhile. Unfortunately, Jeff forgot the engagement and slept on. He didn't wake up until after ten o'clock and, thinking that the clerk was no longer waiting, didn't come. Meanwhile the clerk had also fallen asleep and might have slept till dawn, except for the fact that the ghost woke him!

The clerk went on to tell her that the ghost awoke him by passing its frigid fingers over his face while groaning wildly. At first he wasn't sure just what it was. Then he felt the icy fingers again touch his face. When he heard the blood-curdling groans issuing from the darkness, he knew exactly what it was. He told her how he then remembered the story of the prince and the duel that was fought down on the patio. He was sure it was the ghost of the prince's victim, the ghost of the count. "You have no idea what it's like to have a ghost pat your face in total darkness," he told her.

"Pat nothing," she retorted indignantly. "You should be ashamed of yourself for telling such trash. And as for the count, everyone knows that he was supposed to have been killed downstairs and that they never found the body! And even if they had, they surely would have sent it back to Spain to be buried there. So why, then, should he come back here and into our offices just to pat your face?"

The clerk couldn't really say, he could only account that there must have been some unfinished business that brought the ghost back to the premises. And the clerk swore that he was telling the truth.

"Then just what did you do?" Samantha asked, with just a bit of sarcasm.
"I ran…I cleared out of the building in no time flat!" answered the clerk, out of breath. "You remember how fast we got down the stairs during the November earthquake? Well, last night's run was more than just a run, it was a disappearance! I went down those four flights of stairs like a streak of blue lightning, with the ghost hot on my heels. At first, I thought it was actually going home with me, but as I passed the patio, it stopped."

The clerk went on to tell her how he was forced to stop and have a drink to calm his frazzled nerves so that he might sleep. Of course, Samantha did question him on the possible influence this drink might have had on his memory of the events he was relating. With this, the clerk left abruptly, with a vow that he would never bother to tell her anything again.

Not believing the least bit in ghosts, Samantha gave the matter no more thought. In fact, when you fall heir to a set of books that haven't been posted for nineteen days and you have to catch everything up, plus get your trial balances to work before you can leave for the Christmas holidays, you haven't time to think about ghosts or anything else, except entries. Even though she had been working fourteen hours a day for the last week, the noon hour of the 22nd of December, the day before she was to leave for the holidays, found the bookkeeper with a difference of $13.89. She had to locate the discrepancy and straighten it out before she could leave for home. She really looked forward to spending a week at home back in Indiana. Hopefully, there would be plenty of snow. She really missed the snow. Well, no time for day-dreaming now, she had to find that lousy $13.89. That could only mean night work-nothing else would do. Her plans had all been made to leave on the eight o'clock train the next morning. So Samantha Marie would stay up all night if need be. She would get the books to balance and be done with it.

Samantha had told the security guard downstairs on the ground floor to try and stay awake for awhile. For if she finished more quickly, she would soon come down and let him know when she was ready to leave. The security guard was in a small room shut off from the rest of the building, so sometimes it was rather difficult to get to him. He was the laziest and most sleepy person she'd ever seen. Although he was supposed to take care of the big building at night, patrolling it so as the keep away "vandals" and such, in reality the old man slept so soundly that a brass band, much less anything else, could not rouse him.

It was for this very reason that before she started her work, Samantha was careful to go around and check the locks and bolts herself, just to make sure everything was secure. She was sure that unless the vandals had keys or could pass through solid wood doors, everything was safe.

Samantha felt quite secure, with nary a thought of vandals, spirits, ghosts or anything beyond the $13.89. The bookkeeper worked, adding and re-adding and footing up. At last, about eleven o'clock, she had found the thirteen-dollars and would have jumped for joy, if she had the time. She wasn't out of the woods yet. The dollars were much easier to find than the cents. She must also find the eighty-nine cents before she could have the pleasure of celebrating.

So once again she went at the books. After much brain-racking, more adding and a great deal of prayerful thought, she at last had under her thumb another eighty cents. Eureka! Only nine cents out. She could get it all straightened out and still get some sleep. Inspired by the thought, she smothered her yawns, and again began to add. When she looked at her watch, it was ten minutes to twelve, perhaps she'd be able to finish before one. She worked on the nine cents for about twenty minutes for one of the cash entries looked to be in error. She compared it with the voucher. Yes, that was where the trouble lay!

"Finally!" she heard herself say, "Almost done!"

S-t-t! out went the lights. There she sat gasping in astonishment…in total darkness. When from out of the pitch-black darkness, came the most horrible, blood-curdling groan imaginable. She sat paralyzed, not daring to breathe, doubting her own senses. Every muscle in her body was rigid with fear! Then it occurred to her, with some indignation, that this just might be some sick joke of the silly clerk. Her fear turned to anger and she was just about to yell out at him, when suddenly, she felt something long, thin and icy cold pass gently over her face. Her body stiffened. At first she was too afraid to move. She sensed now that this was no prank put on by some young clerk.

The icy touch continued to lightly caress her face. A chill as she had never felt climbed up her spine, forcing her head back, shaking her body with spasms. Never in her life had she been so afraid. The icy caress continued for some time before she realized that it felt as if someone with frozen fingers was touching her. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She nervously tried to brush the icy, bony things away. But no matter how fast she brushed, the frigid fingers would only come back again. Her heart was pounding like a steam-hammer. Her breath came in gasps of deadly fear. Then, a bone-chilling draft blew, causing her once again to stiffen and not move. Again came that dreadful groan, long and labored, as if the someone or something was in intolerable pain. She was still too frightened to move or scream. The next groan and she could feel herself start to faint. She tried to move, to run, but only tumbled to the floor. And there, among her books and ledgers, Samantha passed into unconsciousness.

When she regained her senses, she was still in a heap among the ledgers, it was still dark and the cold fingers still caressed her face. She became thoroughly desperate. Her mind was racing. She had laughed at the poor clerk. Through him foolish. Now she found herself in the same predicament. He would laugh his fool head off if he could see her now!

Suddenly the thought of the clerk laughing at her, finding something comical about her situation, just infuriated her. "No simpleton clerk, and certainly no ghost, will belittle me," she thought angrily and she scrambled to her feet. The fingers continued to stroke her face as her mind tried to rationalize what was happening. I must address him, she though, but in what language? Did this specter understand English or Spanish, she wondered? Spanish would doubtless be more suitable, if indeed it was the ghost of the murdered count.

"Will you do me a favor, Senor Ghost?" she started out bravely and in her best Spanish. Her voice was trembling as she asked, "Could you tell me what it is you want? Is there something I can do for you? Because if not, I would like very much to be allowed to finish my work, which I can't do-if you'll excuse my abruptness-if I'm not left alone.

Surely being the ghost of a gentleman and a diplomat, he would take the hint and vanish. At least that's what the bookkeeper was hoping for. But maybe the ghost didn't understand her Spanish. At any rate there was no articulate reply; only another blood-curdling groan and again the icy fingers touched her face. Then there came such a mournful sigh, so mournful, that Samantha almost felt sorry for the poor thing. What could possibly be the matter with it? In her pity, all fear was lost for a moment. She asked the darkness that was all about her, "What is it that you wish of me? Can I help you in some way? I'm no longer afraid of you-let me help you!"

Then a strange thing happened, the fingers moved uncertainly for a moment. Suddenly, the ledgers fell with a loud crash and a cold hand took hold of hers, very gently. Samantha tried her best not to feel frightened, but it was very difficult. The cold invisible hand gently pulled on hers and she was led off blindly through the darkened offices. She could see nothing, not a glimmer of light , not a sound was heard, except her own footsteps and the faint sounds of the invisible something that was leading her along. There were no more groans. For this she was thankful. She would surely have screamed and fainted, without a doubt. No sounds, only the patter of footsteps and the cold hand that led her on and on.

The two of them, the icy fingers and her, traveled through the darkened hallways, through the great hall, then down the stairs to the second floor, then more stairs, going down flight after flight, until they reached the tiled floor of the great patio, close to the security office. The simpleton guard, she thought, was sleeping like a log no doubt, while she was being led about in total darkness by an invisible hand, with no one to save her! She would have yelled, of course, but she found it utterly impossible to speak or even move her tongue, that in itself being a bizarre and uncomfortable sensation.

But where were they going? Back into the unused lumber rooms that adjoined the patio? Nothing there except lumber, barrels and empty boxes. What could this ghost want of her? Then, in the middle of the room, they paused; the frigid fingers released hers, leaving her standing alone in the darkness. Samantha entertained the idea of running, screaming her lungs out for the security guard, but abandoned the idea when she found that her feet wouldn't move. As she stood there, shaking with fright, she could hear steps passing to and fro about the floor. She waited, cold and trembling. Finally the footsteps approached. Again the cold, chilling hand took hold of hers and she was led to the corner of the room. Obedient to the unseen will, she bent down and groped about the floor, guided by the cold fingers holding hers. Then she felt it, a cold metal object almost buried in stone. It felt something like a small ring set firmly in the floor. She pulled at it with all of her might, but it did not move. At this, she heard the ghost give a faint sigh and for a second the cold fingers pressed her hand, quite affectionately, then released her. She heard steps passing slowly onto the patio, and slowly fading away. Where was he going? What on earth did all this mean?

Samantha couldn't remember ever being so tired. She stood and tried to find the door in the total darkness. The clerk would have been revenged could he have seen her desperately fumbling at a barrel, thinking it was the door. At last, too fatigued and sleepy to continue, she dropped down on the cold stone floor and fell unconscious.

She must have slept for some hours, for when she woke the first light of dawn was beginning to creep through the window. She sat up and wondered if she had taken leave of her senses during the night. What on earth could she be doing here on the lumber room floor? Then, the images from the night before came racing back-she remembered! Half-unconscious, she crept about in the near darkness, seeking the small ring. There it was! She caught hold of it and jerked it hard. Nothing. She tried again pulling harder, suddenly she was thrown to the floor. It seemed to her as if the entire floor was giving way. There was a sliding, crashing sound and she found herself hanging on for dear life to a barrel that fortunately retained its equilibrium. Her feet were dangling in space. She turned her head to look. Down below was total darkness. She could not even see if there was a floor. Her fear turned to panic as she felt her grip slip and a chill suddenly came over her as she felt the long icy fingers from the night before wrap themselves slowly around her ankle. The chilling hand seemed to be guiding her foot to one side. Her foot came to rest on the rung of an iron ladder. Her first instinct was to get out, away from that pit, but the icy fingers pulled her back. After some hesitation, she took a couple of deep breaths to gather her courage and climbed down the ladder into the blackness of the pit.

It was damp and musty. The air thick and rancid. The floor seemed to be of stone. It was completely dark. Her fear was gaining control over her courage. What could the ghost want of her in this pit? The hand led her through the darkness. Her hand came to rest on a large candle and was released. She searched her clothes in a panic, hoping she still had a match on her. She let out a sigh of relief when she found some in the pocket of her smock. Upon lighting the candle, she almost wished she hadn't, because next to her was a corpse, its mummified skin dusty with age, its mouth drawn back into an eternal scream.

"Could this be the remains of the count?" she thought to herself.

From behind her, she heard a low moan. Taking the candle and raising it, she saw another skeleton and as she slowly approached, she saw the skeleton had a long narrow sword resting in its chest. Beside the sword lay a medallion, its gold chain still draped about the skeleton's neck, bearing a Spanish crest. Apparently, this was the remains of the count. But then who was the other skeleton, she asked herself?

The question was quickly forgotten. For upon raising the candle a little more, Samantha Marie took notice of some large and small chests that were arranged along the walls. Could it be the treasure? But, alas! Upon investigation, she found the larger chests proved to be empty. That wicked count! No wonder he couldn't rest. But upon further investigation, she found that the smaller chests were literally crammed with all sorts of things.

They contained much treasure. Heavy Spanish coins in gold and silver. Gold and silver dinner services with the crest of some unfortunate emperor which still shone and glimmered inside. Magnificent pieces of jeweled armor and weapons were found next to beautiful jewelry and loose precious stones. Samantha was beside herself with excitement, but after some thought, she deliberately selected handfuls of the latter, giving preferences to the diamonds and pearls, always having had a taste for them that she was never able to gratify! She packed them in a small wooden chest that she found. The gold and silver dinner services and armor were left, being rather cumbersome. As the sun rose and the new day began, the accountant climbed out of the pit, rejoicing with her chest of diamonds, pearls and other jewelry.

Needless to say, Samantha didn't go away for the holidays on the eight o'clock train. She did, however, go to the office and locate her missing nine cents, after which she unfolded the tale of the ghost and treasure to the authorities-only keeping quiet the matter of the wooden chest of loot. Historians theorized later that the Austrian prince murdered the count for trying to cheat him, and then became trapped in the secret vault, perhaps the trap door closed by accident. The count's remains, along with that of the prince, were shipped to their respective homelands for proper burial. Samantha hypothesized that the count's soul couldn't rest until his remains were buried in a manner befitting his status and had haunted the old building until this was done. For the ghost of the count was never seen again.

Samantha Marie never told of the box of jewels she kept, for which she was heartily thankful afterwards. For when the government analyzed the find, what do you suppose they offered her for going about with a ghost in the middle of the night and finding the treasure for them? Ten thousand dollars! When she refused, stating that she would take merely, as her reward, one of the gold dinner services, they objected. But the accountant finally had her way and to this very day they have no idea that she has all those beautiful jewels and lives very comfortably back in Indiana. Wouldn't they be furious if they knew? Of course, Samantha Marie won't tell. And now that you've heard this tale I'm sure she hopes that you won't tell either.

To my knowledge, Samantha has related this story only to close friends and myself and when I asked if there was anything else she would like to add, she just smiled and said, "Thank you, count!"


STORY OUTLINE

I. A grand stone mansion in Southern California, formerly the property of a notoriously wicked Spanish count, is converted into offices for modern use.

II. Samantha Marie is told by a clerk how he had fallen asleep while working late one night and was awakened by the icy fingers of the count's ghost touching his face. She doesn't believe him.

III. Being the firm's accountant, Samantha is working late one night to uncover a bookkeeping error. Suddenly, the lights go out and from within the darkness, Samantha feels the horrible icy fingers touch her face.

IV. When she hears a moan from the ghost, it scares her so much that she passes out. Upon awakening, the icy fingers are stroking her face.

V. Angry at how the clerk would be laughing at her predicament, Samantha decides to ask the ghost in Spanish what it is that wants of her.

VI. The icy fingers take her hand and lead her to the abandoned storeroom on the first floor, placing her hand on a steel ring that is buried in the floor.

VII. Weakened, she is unable to tug the trap door open. Sighing, the ghost leaves her. Samantha, exhausted by the night's events, collapses by the door until dawn.

VIII. Awakening, she returns to the ring and tugs hard. Suddenly the trap door springs open, causing her to hang for her life above a pit.

IX. The icy fingers grab her leg and place her foot on a steel rung of a ladder that she takes to the bottom of the hidden vault.

X. There she finds two skeletons-those of the count and a prince who had fought to the death over the treasure that she also uncovers.

XI. Samantha takes the jewels and eventually the authorities allow her a gold dinner service as a reward, so that the accountant is able to live the rest of her life in luxury back home in Indiana.