Page 3 of Heir to a Curse

Mike looked up. “Not bad, boss. Making a list of the small stuff we need to get from town. Got all your measurements. You’ll have to decide if you want the same layout or a change. Outer wall is bad. We’ll have to replace a lot of the exterior wall sheetrock and supports. The report is legit. We don’t see any sign of accelerant or wiring errors.”

Which was a relief. “I actually did the wiring in here a good fifteen years ago. Painted the cabinets too. It was a little old school back then and Sofia didn’t want to do a full tear out.”

“You know your stuff, boss,” Jerry added. “There doesn’t seem to be a starting point. It’s like it all randomly burst into flames at once.”

“That’s not possible,” I said.

“No,” Jerry said. “But we have no other explanation yet. We’re just pulling some of the bigger pieces together to get at the walls.”

“I need to clear the path out the shrine, so I’ll be outside for a bit. You two okay in here?”

“Yep,” Mike said. “We will keep going on this. Make a pile. Will make it easier for demo tomorrow. Need help?”

“I’m good,” I said.

“Shrine?” Jerry asked.

“Old Asian style. A mix of their Chinese, Korean, and Japanese heritages. They bought the house over a hundred years ago. Briefly lost it during the internment, but were able to get it back, mostly by being the whole ‘Crazy Rich Asian’ thing. Their family had a lot of power, both here and abroad. The shrine has the ashes of a bunch of old relatives in it. If I recall, there’s a family tree etched on the wall in there, showing how they go back through several continents and dynasties for a few hundred years.”

Jerry’s eyes went huge. “There’s a tomb in the backyard?”

“Technically, yes. Though they don’t view it the same way.”

“No wonder they say this place is cursed,” he muttered.

“They sort of view their ancestors as protectors rather than the scary things of American culture,” I pointed out. “Think of it as Day of the Dead, every day. Respect equals respect.” Since I’d gone with Jerry last year for a huge Day of the Dead celebration in New Mexico, I knew how they took care of their elders.

“Yeah? Well, maybe the ancestors need a refresher? Since they aren’t protecting so well?” Jerry quipped as he waved to the mess of the kitchen.

“Or maybe too well,” Mike added staring at the damage.

“Oh, creepy,” Jerry answered. “Like maybe keeping people away? Creepy.”

“Stop, both of you. Work already. I gotta go trim weeds.”

Their laughter followed me out the door, making me feel a little bit lighter about this whole situation. I was a simple contractor, master of general trade and carpentry, and a small business owner, not some millionaire property guru. I had no idea what I would do with the place once it was fixed. But that would be a road I’d cross down the line.

Maybe Sofia had been right and finally having it out of the hands of her family would remove the curse. If it weren’t for the long history of mishaps, I’d think it was all bad luck. However, years of events over and over were not normal for any residence. Not even one this large. I had actually suspected a time or two, out loud to Sofia, that someone was causing the damage, at least the house stuff. Like a disgruntled employee or family member. She always insisted not. Plus almost seventy years of trouble did equate to a lot of mishaps and a really long-lived bad guy.