Haunted House Tales

by Riley Amitrani

  “That would be my conclusion. Other than John Carver, I am guessing the locals here have that impression. Not to be insulting, as the people here seem kind and pleasant enough, but not the sharpest pencils in the box, if you get my meaning.”

  It was direct and a bit crude, but despite his rough assessment of the people of Herriard, Sally did indeed get his point. Not how she would have phrased it, but it was accurate.

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “Right where we are now. Whatever is going on here, the pub is the focus. Seems maybe it might be a good idea to have another chat with John Carver. I get the sneaking suspicion our friendly inn-owner may know more than he is willing to reveal at the moment.”

  Sally had to agree. And this was already a thought she had considered. She could not exactly put her finger on it for sure, but there had been something about the man from their conversation earlier in the day that gave her pause. It was good to see that Tomasz had picked up this as well and that she would not have to endure the situation, either directly expressed or just silently inferred, that this was just some silly woman’s intuition. With that said, oddly enough they looked up to see John Carver heading their way.

  Another Talk with John Carver

  Herriard, United Kingdom

  27 January, 2018, 8 PM

  John Carver walked slowly toward the table where Tomasz and Sally sat, a bar towel casually draped over one shoulder. Putting on their best looks of neutrality, the detectives looked up and smiled.

  “Some weather, huh?” John said as he stood next to them wiping his hands on the towel before returning it to his shoulder.

  “Indeed.” Tomasz replied.

  “You get a chance to make the rounds in Herriard?”

  Sally’s gut feeling about the man was confirmed as she was pretty sure he well knew they had, Herriard being as small as it was, and that Carver was close friends with just about everyone, due to his business that most everyone in town seemed to frequent. Even so, she played along.

  “We did, Mr. Carver.” Sally replied.

  “Any leads? And please call me John.”

  “Could be, John…could be.” She said, keeping her voice flat and easy. “Too early to tell at this point, but it was time well spent.”

  “Can I get you some dinner? My chef has a great Shepard’s Pie going tonight.”

  “Sounds good, John,” Tomasz replied. “If you can break away from your duties at the bar, maybe you could join us. We have a few more questions we’d like to run by you.”

  “Sure…sure. We are not real busy tonight. Let me get your dinners and I’ll be right back.”

  Carver turned on his heel and Sally waited until he was out of ear shot before speaking.

  “Think he is hiding something, Tomasz?”

  “Maybe…maybe…did you catch that funny look in his eyes when I asked him to join us?”

  “I did. What do you think?”

  “It’s a hunch, but something is off here, and I think our congenial host knows more than he is willing to reveal.”

  “So how do we proceed?”

  “As you well know, people often cannot stick to a story if they are hiding something. I am curious to see if our Mr. Carver is one of those people. Never hurts to just follow up on your line of questioning, even if it is to see if you get the same story, you know?”

  Sally just nodded, knowing they had both seen more than once incident where a case had been broken open because successive interviews had revealed disparate versions of an event in question. Carver did not seem like he was openly lying or that he was even trying to conceal anything, but she did have to agree with Tomasz that he seemed nervous when asked to join them for dinner and more questions.

  “Good idea. I will follow your lead.”

  Again, the smug smile crept over Tomasz’s face. It was all Sally could do to keep from laughing at his antics. She quickly took another draw on her ale to hide her smile. In just a few minutes, Carver returned with three steaming bowls of the nightly special, along with fresh mugs of ales for them all. He set out the fare and joined them at their table as they all tucked in to the flaky crust filled with lamb and vegetables. Despite this entrée being vastly overdone in general in the UK, and often bland and paste-like, Sally was thrilled with the taste of the pub’s version. It was, considering the dish, light and savory. Hardly the flavor that English food often gets stereotyped as. She realized she had not eaten since early that morning and was happy to let Tomasz take the lead here as she ate greedily.

  “What do you think of the pie, detectives?”

  “Incredible, John,” Sally said as she finally came up for air. “Not the typical Shepard’s Pie I am accustomed to. Kudos to your chef.”

  “I’d second that, John,” Tomasz added. “Wonderful...,just wonderful.”

  Tomasz was not as thrilled with the dish as Sally seemed to be but he wanted to keep the atmosphere going in the direction it was headed. It was a manipulative act, but he had found over the years to do whatever it took to keep the conversation light and nonconfrontational. They needed Carver to think they were his friends to get the most out of him. Hopefully, if he was hiding something, by the time he realized he had revealed too much, it would be too late.

  “Thanks. Chef is new here. Came from abroad. Somewhere in Portugal as I recall, and he has definitely put a nice spin on traditional English fare. You are not the first guests here to notice it.”

  Guests, thought Sally…that was perfect. Carver seemed to be at ease with them if he was thinking of them as guests, not police. It might be a lie, but from her perspective it felt like the man was being truthful. Between bites of dinner, Tomasz chatted Carver up getting a nice background on Carver’s Arms and how long he had been running the place. Interspersed in this façade of polite conversation, the detective slyly slipped in questions that Carver had already replied to earlier in the day. Nothing new was gleaned from this approach, so either the man had nothing to hide or he was clever enough to stick with his previous story. Still, though, as Sally watched the process, there was something in Carver’s eyes that contradicted his narrative.

  As well, she was impressed with Tomasz’s skill at guiding the man back through the same line of questioning from the afternoon. Carver never mentioned that he had already answered the questions already. Either Tomasz had done this without Carver’s figuring it out, or the man was skilled at playing along. Sally was not sure which path they might be on at this point, but from Carver’s body language and speech patterns, he seemed fully at ease with her partner, chatting with him freely as if they had been friends for years. She glanced over at Tomasz during a break in the conversation as the meal was finished and they were enjoying the last of their ale. Tomasz gave her a subtle, but distinct wink letting her know she could jump in any time if there was any line of questioning she thought might be helpful. It was a rare signal, but one that they had worked out long ago as a silent gesture hidden from the subject of their interrogation.

  Based on the earlier conflict the pair had experienced, Sally was caught by surprise, but thought that maybe a complete shift in questioning might pay off. Not only coming from her, as she had been silent during Tomasz’s conversation with Carver during dinner but making it a different tack completely. She had a sense that Carver was of the same mind about women in the workplace as her partner…at least in a role more than barmaid or waitress. She had spied this photo on the wall just off to the side of John with a woman and a young boy. As of yet, he had never mentioned any family. And perhaps it was just a sister and a nephew…but Sally did not get that feeling. The boy in the photo looked too much like Carver and he seemed to be just a little too close to the woman for her to be a sister.

  “Say, John…” Sally asked, “I was noticing that photo on the wall. You never mentioned any family.”

  Sally knew she had just made a huge assumption, and she prayed she had not just made a huge error in judgement. Carver looked over to the wa
ll and saw the photo of him with his wife and son in much happier times. He was sure he had gotten rid of all the old photos years ago, but somehow this one stuck away back in the dark corner of the pub had slipped his mind. As the blood drained from his face once he spied the photo, Sally knew she was onto something. She was not sure if it was just a bad memory for the man or something else, but Carver’s reaction was impossible to hide or cover up. He took a long draw on his ale and set the empty mug on the table. Both Tomasz and Sally could not help but pick up on the tremor in Carver’s hand as he set the empty mug on the table.

  Carver recovered a bit as he took a longer look at the framed photo. As best he could, he put on a face of regret and longing before turning to Sally with an explanation.

  “I used to have a family. Long time ago. Those times were the best of my life, but I am afraid it did not last.”

  “I’m sorry, John,” Sally replied. “I did not mean to pry.”

  “It’s OK. It was a long time ago and for the most part I have let it all go. Seeing that photo just brought it all back suddenly. Right after I took over Carver’s Arms, just after my father could no longer run the place day to day, I married a local girl and we had a son, Jack. We were really happy…at least I thought we were.”

  Carver put a hand to his neck and massaged the muscles as if working out a cramp.

  “Nancy was her name. I came home one day to find out it had all been a joke. Joke on me that is. All I was left with was a note from her saying she had run off with a lover abroad…she never said where exactly. No warning or anything, just one day she was here and I thought all was well, and the next she was gone.”

  He let a few beats fall to let his fable sink in with the detectives. He did his best to portray the same anguish and sense of loss he had used when spinning this tale with everyone else in town. Without moving his head, he glanced over at Sally who remained impassive. For just a minute, he thought perhaps he was losing his touch in telling this story. Most women were already shedding tears by this time, but then he reminded himself that this was a detective who had most likely seen much worse in her days with the police and ignored her lack of a more emotional response before putting the icing on his tale.

  “Time went by, as I hoped and prayed that Nancy would come to her senses and return, but she never did. Jack and I never heard from her again. He was pretty young when she abandoned us, and at the time I was not sure he really understood what had happened. Why she had taken off, you know?”

  Sally just nodded her understanding as she sipped her ale and let John continue.

  “Anyway, time went by and I did my best to provide for Jack, but by the time he was a teenager, something in him snapped.”

  “Snapped?” Tomasz asked.

  “I guess. That is the best way I can describe it. You know how teenagers can be. For some reason he began to blame me for his mother having run off. I can only imagine the sense of loss he was feeling at having his mother disappear when he was so young. His behavior began with just verbal abuse toward me, but it soon progressed to physical confrontations. He was constantly getting in trouble around town…nothing serious, just mischief that kids get into at that age. But soon he was getting worse and worse and I had no choice but to consider placing him in some sort of juvenile facility for troubled teens.”

  Carver hesitated again, knowing this was another key revelation in the story he had told over and over in town. Jack’s mischief was in fact well known in Herriard. But it was not, as John often told of in response to a missing mother, but the boy’s having seen how his father mistreated his mother.

  “I guess somehow Jack caught wind of my plans for him and much like his mother, just up and ran off before I could help him. No note or anything. Just up and left. I have not heard from him since. I guess he still blames me for what his mother did.”

  “I’m really sorry for bringing all that up, John,” Sally said quietly. “I had no idea.”

  “Oh…it’s alright. Everyone in town has heard the story by now and it was so long ago anyway. Was a good time to remind me I still had that old picture of us all and to get rid of it. I really thought I had removed all reminders of them.”

  The three of them sat silently as the wind rattled some loose boards on the exterior of the pub and the rain slashed at the window panes in sheets. John got up and tossed another log on the fire before returning to collect the dirty dinner dishes on a tray.

  “If there is nothing else, detectives, I’ll go to help clean up the kitchen. Let me know if there is anything else I can do or answer for you during your stay.”

  “Sure, John,” Tomasz replied. “We’ll be turning in in a bit.”

  Carver stacked the bowls and beer steins and walked slowly back across the dining area, disappearing into the kitchen in the back.

  “Tough story, huh?” Tomasz asked as he joined Sally to stare into the flames as they wrapped around the fresh log.

  Sally just nodded but did not reply.

  “I’m headed to bed. You coming?” he asked.

  “In a bit. Just want to process all of today’s stuff and enjoy this fire a while longer. I’ll be up in a few minutes.

  Tomasz nodded as he pushed his chair under the table and left the lower level to head upstairs to their room. Sally stared into the fire as Tomasz disappeared upstairs. She did want to process the day’s activities…that much was true. But it was more the story about Carver’s family that she wanted to ponder, not all the interviews in town. It was just a hunch, much like Tomasz had felt earlier, but that was all it was. At times, Carver had seemed genuinely upset while he told the story about the disintegration of his family. But at other times, it appeared to Sally more like he was putting on a performance. Some of his affectations and gestures and some of the inflections of his speech seemed practiced and melodramatic.

  On the one hand, she felt guilty for thinking Carver’s story was that, just a story. But on the other hand, her personal and professional intuition told her just the opposite. In most cases, this would have made no difference to her one way or the other, as most people would have seen no connection between Carver’s sad tale of loss and the rash of robberies in Herriard. But something kept poking at the edges of Sally’s brain that kept telling her there was some connection. She just could not see how to connect the dots. She remained at the table for a few more minutes staring deeply into the dancing flames as the fresh log popped and crackled. When she began to feel her eyelids grow heavy and saw that all these ruminations were getting her nowhere, she left the bar and headed to bed as well.

  Carver’s Arms: Who Dat?

  Herriard, United Kingdom

  28 January, 2018, 2 AM

  Sally struggled with getting to sleep that night. It had been a very long day including travel from London, all the interviews and other investigative work at both Carver’s Arms and at the other robbery sites. Normally, that would have been plenty to dim her bulbs, but she found herself tossing and turning as the day’s events raced through her brain. Sally was sure this frustration had more to do with that story about how John Carver had come to lose his family. She was sure similar things had actually happened to others, but something in the recesses of her mind would not let her take John at his word. Deep in her heart she hoped she was wrong.

  After a few hours of restlessness, Sally finally dropped off to sleep as the storm outside continued to hang on. The wind rattled window shutters and the old outdated panes of several rooms and the rain, while no longer coming down as heavily as it had been, was still lingering as a gentle shower that pattered on the roof and windows. All the sounds of the storm were not bothering Sally. They were, in fact, a pleasant and calming sound to her after all the noise and commotion of London that she was still trying to adjust to. She had grown up in a rural part of Goring, just north of the River Thames, living with her grandparents after her mother and father had been killed in a horrific traffic accident when she was just five years old.

  The
rattle of the wind, the dance of the rain…they were all reminders of those idyllic days as a young girl on her grandparents’ farm. What had kept her from the deep sleep she normally fell into without any problems was not being able to turn off her brain from all that she and Tomasz had learned that day. The longer she had been in the department, the more this was an issue, but she assumed this was not a bad thing, overall. Often it was some insight or some revelation as she slept that had given her an answer to a difficult case. Just as she finally drifted away, Sally jerked fully awake as a loud bang roused her. She sat up in her small bed and cocked her head to make sure she had not just been dreaming and imagined it.

  A few seconds went by in silence, but sure enough the same noise that had awakened her repeated itself. It was not overly loud, and Sally determined that it was originating from the lower level. While the rainstorm was still a factor, the wind had diminished quite a bit and Sally was sure the noise was not some loose structure on the inn being bandied about by the gusts. The next thought she had was that the burglar had returned to Carver’s Arms for yet another repeat performance. Perhaps the perpetrator was completely unaware of the police investigation and had just decided it was time to hit the place again. She looked over to see Tomasz deeply asleep, a gentle snore emanating from his lips.

  “Tomasz!” Sally whispered as loudly as she dared to.

  There was no response. Sally peeled back her covers and silently trod across the room to shake her partner awake. Her initial attempts had no effect, so she had to more roughly jostle her partner by the shoulder to wake him up.

  “What the hell, Sally!” Tomasz exclaimed. “I was deep asleep!”

  He looked at her as she put an index finger to her lips and he sat up quietly in his own bed, looking at her, baffled and still half asleep.

  “I think the burglar has returned,” Sally whispered as she stood next to his bed.

  Tomasz sat, unmoving, much as Sally had when she had first been awakened by the banging noise. He began to look at her with great annoyance until the noise repeated itself.