Case 2: What do you do with a Drunken Leprachuan?
Regina had been sorting through the paperwork for the orientation packets. When the phone on her desk rang. Eyeing it she was wondering if this was another internal dispute that Dawn or herself would have to settle. Opting for the distraction from collation she picked up on the third ring.
“Regina Crane, how can I help you?” she shouldered the receiver.
“Miss Crane, my name is Robert Dunham.” a distinctly male voice spoke. “I’m calling in regards to your Foundation’s website.”
“What seems to be the problem Mister Dunham?” she asked setting the stack of papers on her desk and reaching for a pen and small legal pad.
“Before I tell you what the problem is,” he began. “I need your assurance that my company’s name will not be publicized.”
“Confidentiality is one of our assurances, the only people that will know are the Foundation members that will handle the case.”
“I will remind you that if our trouble gets out to the public we will seek legal action.”
“Threats, Mister Dunham are not appreciated.” She sighed almost ready to hang up. “We are professionals at what we do. The Foundation is not seeking any sort of recognition or public humiliation of our clients.” She sighed deciding to be frank with this corporate fool. “Your problem sir?”
“We are a large and rather well know brewery.” He spoke after a moment. “I’ve been charged with fixing the problem. I would like it dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.”
“I can’t promise both of those will happen.” She began tapping her pen she was really going to get nasty if this guy didn’t get to the point. “We will deal with whatever problem that your brewery may be having. I just need to know what the problem is, otherwise Mister Dunham your wasting my time and yours.”
“I suppose that you right, dancing around the issue isn’t going to get it taken care of.” He sighed heavily. “We have recently had numerous reports of singing in the bottling portion of our facility.”
“What kind of singing?” she asked after writing down the words "brewery” and “Singing”.
“The night shift security thinks its Irish.” He seemed to be caught off guard by the question. “Why is that important?”
“It could be a clue to the type of problem you’re having.” She wrote down “Irish” as well.
“The thing is that our security can not find anyone in the area. And its long after our line staff have gone home.”
“Interesting.” Regina spoke scribbling down some things. “Please continue.”
“We don’t know what this is, we assumed it was one of the employees just joking around. But its been going on too long and when one of our security staff does get close enough to investigate they find nothing. It almost as if this thing vanishes.” He shifted the phone. “Its getting to a point that rumors are flying amongst the day staff that the place is haunted. Which is just silly as everyone knows that ghosts only come out at night.” He snorted.
“Ghosts aren’t limited to any specific time of day.” Regina smirked as the other end of the line went silent for a moment. “If you have a haunting it depends on what type of haunting that you have. If it’s a haunt it can be an intelligent where the spirit interacts with people. It could also be a residual haunt where the ghost is like a tape being rewound and played back regardless of the time of day.” She twirled her pen around. “That all depends on if this is a haunt.”
“What else could it be?” he asked.
“Well that’s what you called us for.” She smirked. “Is there anything else Mister Dunham, anything at all that you can tell me about your problem?”
He was silent before he spoke again. “The singing, one of the older gentlemen states that it sounds like its drunk.”
“Drunken Irish singing,” she repeated back to him. “Mr. Dunham, is it the same song or is it different each time?”
“I don’t know.” He spoke. “Can you hold for a moment?”
“Sure.” She eyed the words she jotted down on the pad.
Brewery. Reports: Singing, Irish - Drunken. After Hours. No one found in area. Vanishing.
“Miss Crane are you still there?” Dunham asked.
“Yes.” She spoke her attention back on the client at hand.
“I’m conferencing in out Night Security lead, James Fitzsimmons.” Dunham spoke and a small beep sounded. “James?”
“Yes, sir?” the sound of another male voice joined the line.
“Please tell Miss Crane anything about the problem.”
“James?” Regina inquired. “What have your people been reporting?”
“Uh, well, the drunken singing, mostly Irish as far as I can tell, sounded a bit Gaelic on occasion. I should know I sat there an week’s worth of shifts.” He sighed. “One of the older guys, Mort had asked me to investigate. I though they were just giving me shi-crap.” He faltered. “Sorry about the language Ma’m. I’m younger than most of the guys I’m in charge of. I thought that this was a joke or that this was their way of getting back at me for being young, you know.”
“Alright, so what do you think now?” She asked.
“No way these guys can move that fast or that quietly.” He sighed. “Some of them refuse to even patrol the room. They think its haunted. I’m the only one that will even check the room. The feeling in there is like I’m not wanted. My Gaffer says its one of the little people.”
“Little people?” she asked having a good idea what he was referring to. She’d grown up most of her life in the United Kingdom. She just hoped he was talking about someone who was very short.
“The Fay, Fairies.” James chuckled. “Gaffers from the Old World. He’s from Ireland, County Cork.”
“Faries?” Dunham chuckled. “That’s rich.”
“Do not laugh at the idea of fairies Mister Dunham.” Regina cautioned remembering an encounter she had previously. It was a very unpleasant memory. “They are not those lovely ethereal creatures that Walt Disney or Amy Brown has made them out to be. Not all of them have wings. They can be very mean, evil down right vile.” She spoke. “Gnomes, Leprechans and changelings are all part of the fairy family.”
“You are joking Miss Crane.” Dunham spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Absolutely not.” She continued on. “There are tales of travelers disappearing through out the United Kingdom going back centuries. Large hills, mounds and tors all thought to be the dwelling place of fairies.” She turned her attention back to James. “Mister Fitzsimmons, you or your staff haven’t found anything unusual in the bottling room?”
“No,” he spoke “Shipping and receiving did get an empty crate from Boston. We thought that it might be just a error in shipping.”
“Mister Dunham what do you get from Boston?”
“Just bottles.” He spoke. “They make glass bottles for us and a few wineries.”
“So there was nothing in the crate?” she wrote down the words “Boston - bottles -empty crate”
“No Ma’m.” Fiztsimmons spoke. “We got hold of the company, they said that crate should have gone to a winery out in Nappa Valley.”
“They have no idea how the labels got switched.” Dunham supplied. “They, the winery, sent us a rather large number of bottles that should have come to us.”
“Well Gentlemen if there is anything else that you can think of please call me,” she rattled of her direct office number. “I think that we might have enough to go on.”
She wished them well and hung up. “I’m not liking the sound of this case all ready.” She spoke to no on in particular. She’d honestly hoped that it would have been easier considering the staff that they currently had it was going to be difficult.
“Regina Crane, how can I help you?” she shouldered the receiver.
“Miss Crane, my name is Robert Dunham.” a distinctly male voice spoke. “I’m calling in regards to your Foundation’s website.”
“What seems to be the problem Mister Dunham?” she asked setting the stack of papers on her desk and reaching for a pen and small legal pad.
“Before I tell you what the problem is,” he began. “I need your assurance that my company’s name will not be publicized.”
“Confidentiality is one of our assurances, the only people that will know are the Foundation members that will handle the case.”
“I will remind you that if our trouble gets out to the public we will seek legal action.”
“Threats, Mister Dunham are not appreciated.” She sighed almost ready to hang up. “We are professionals at what we do. The Foundation is not seeking any sort of recognition or public humiliation of our clients.” She sighed deciding to be frank with this corporate fool. “Your problem sir?”
“We are a large and rather well know brewery.” He spoke after a moment. “I’ve been charged with fixing the problem. I would like it dealt with as quickly and discreetly as possible.”
“I can’t promise both of those will happen.” She began tapping her pen she was really going to get nasty if this guy didn’t get to the point. “We will deal with whatever problem that your brewery may be having. I just need to know what the problem is, otherwise Mister Dunham your wasting my time and yours.”
“I suppose that you right, dancing around the issue isn’t going to get it taken care of.” He sighed heavily. “We have recently had numerous reports of singing in the bottling portion of our facility.”
“What kind of singing?” she asked after writing down the words "brewery” and “Singing”.
“The night shift security thinks its Irish.” He seemed to be caught off guard by the question. “Why is that important?”
“It could be a clue to the type of problem you’re having.” She wrote down “Irish” as well.
“The thing is that our security can not find anyone in the area. And its long after our line staff have gone home.”
“Interesting.” Regina spoke scribbling down some things. “Please continue.”
“We don’t know what this is, we assumed it was one of the employees just joking around. But its been going on too long and when one of our security staff does get close enough to investigate they find nothing. It almost as if this thing vanishes.” He shifted the phone. “Its getting to a point that rumors are flying amongst the day staff that the place is haunted. Which is just silly as everyone knows that ghosts only come out at night.” He snorted.
“Ghosts aren’t limited to any specific time of day.” Regina smirked as the other end of the line went silent for a moment. “If you have a haunting it depends on what type of haunting that you have. If it’s a haunt it can be an intelligent where the spirit interacts with people. It could also be a residual haunt where the ghost is like a tape being rewound and played back regardless of the time of day.” She twirled her pen around. “That all depends on if this is a haunt.”
“What else could it be?” he asked.
“Well that’s what you called us for.” She smirked. “Is there anything else Mister Dunham, anything at all that you can tell me about your problem?”
He was silent before he spoke again. “The singing, one of the older gentlemen states that it sounds like its drunk.”
“Drunken Irish singing,” she repeated back to him. “Mr. Dunham, is it the same song or is it different each time?”
“I don’t know.” He spoke. “Can you hold for a moment?”
“Sure.” She eyed the words she jotted down on the pad.
Brewery. Reports: Singing, Irish - Drunken. After Hours. No one found in area. Vanishing.
“Miss Crane are you still there?” Dunham asked.
“Yes.” She spoke her attention back on the client at hand.
“I’m conferencing in out Night Security lead, James Fitzsimmons.” Dunham spoke and a small beep sounded. “James?”
“Yes, sir?” the sound of another male voice joined the line.
“Please tell Miss Crane anything about the problem.”
“James?” Regina inquired. “What have your people been reporting?”
“Uh, well, the drunken singing, mostly Irish as far as I can tell, sounded a bit Gaelic on occasion. I should know I sat there an week’s worth of shifts.” He sighed. “One of the older guys, Mort had asked me to investigate. I though they were just giving me shi-crap.” He faltered. “Sorry about the language Ma’m. I’m younger than most of the guys I’m in charge of. I thought that this was a joke or that this was their way of getting back at me for being young, you know.”
“Alright, so what do you think now?” She asked.
“No way these guys can move that fast or that quietly.” He sighed. “Some of them refuse to even patrol the room. They think its haunted. I’m the only one that will even check the room. The feeling in there is like I’m not wanted. My Gaffer says its one of the little people.”
“Little people?” she asked having a good idea what he was referring to. She’d grown up most of her life in the United Kingdom. She just hoped he was talking about someone who was very short.
“The Fay, Fairies.” James chuckled. “Gaffers from the Old World. He’s from Ireland, County Cork.”
“Faries?” Dunham chuckled. “That’s rich.”
“Do not laugh at the idea of fairies Mister Dunham.” Regina cautioned remembering an encounter she had previously. It was a very unpleasant memory. “They are not those lovely ethereal creatures that Walt Disney or Amy Brown has made them out to be. Not all of them have wings. They can be very mean, evil down right vile.” She spoke. “Gnomes, Leprechans and changelings are all part of the fairy family.”
“You are joking Miss Crane.” Dunham spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Absolutely not.” She continued on. “There are tales of travelers disappearing through out the United Kingdom going back centuries. Large hills, mounds and tors all thought to be the dwelling place of fairies.” She turned her attention back to James. “Mister Fitzsimmons, you or your staff haven’t found anything unusual in the bottling room?”
“No,” he spoke “Shipping and receiving did get an empty crate from Boston. We thought that it might be just a error in shipping.”
“Mister Dunham what do you get from Boston?”
“Just bottles.” He spoke. “They make glass bottles for us and a few wineries.”
“So there was nothing in the crate?” she wrote down the words “Boston - bottles -empty crate”
“No Ma’m.” Fiztsimmons spoke. “We got hold of the company, they said that crate should have gone to a winery out in Nappa Valley.”
“They have no idea how the labels got switched.” Dunham supplied. “They, the winery, sent us a rather large number of bottles that should have come to us.”
“Well Gentlemen if there is anything else that you can think of please call me,” she rattled of her direct office number. “I think that we might have enough to go on.”
She wished them well and hung up. “I’m not liking the sound of this case all ready.” She spoke to no on in particular. She’d honestly hoped that it would have been easier considering the staff that they currently had it was going to be difficult.