"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" Kyle interrupted her thoughts.
"I think it was very dark and an animal spooked us, I don't think I would say it was a ghost."
"I'll prove it. Let's go back."
"Are you kidding me? I had to beg you to go when I wanted to see if he was abusing animals. Now you think that there's a ghost you want to go back?"
"Exactly. Look it's really late. You have class tomorrow, and I need to rest. But can you do me a favour?" Can you swing by the bar tomorrow night and pick up my paycheck?"
"Of course. Are you sure you want me to go? I can stay with you if you want?"
"No don't worry about it. Please go home. Come and see me tomorrow after you’ve picked up my cheque."
"Can I call anyone for you?"
"No, my parents are out of town."
"Ok. I'll see you tomorrow night."
~
The next evening Frances headed down the street and into the bar. It was dark, her eyes adjusting to the low lights and dark furnishings. She headed to the bar where just one man was sat, nursing his drink. He was a large man with a moustache, stained yellow from nicotine. He was wearing a faded baseball cap pulled low over his face so his moustache was all that Frances could see. He stared into his drink, oblivious to her coming in. Frances stood at the bar and waited.
"What can I get you?" A barman stood up from behind the counter. He had a tea towel in his hand which he swung over his shoulder. He was dressed in jeans and a black shirt.
"I'm Frances,” she said. “I’m here to get Kyle’s paycheck. I think he called."
"Oh, I heard he was in an accident. How’s he doing?"
“He’s still in the hospital, but they managed to stop the bleeding. The doctors say he'll be fine."
The barman disappeared through a swinging door which led out back. He returned almost immediately and handed her an envelope. “Tell him that we hope he gets better soon.”
Frances nodded. She turned to go, then turned back.
"I know this sounds weird, but can I ask you a question?"
"Yeah, sure," the barman answered.
"You know the store next door? You haven't seen anything strange going on there have you?"
"The pet store?" No can’t say that I have. I mean apart from the smell,” he said. He took a pack of cigarettes out of the back of his trouser pocket. “He said they have bad drains or something. I’m going out for a smoke. I’ll see you around.” He headed out of the door again. Frances turned to go.
“He’s not old enough to remember, but I do,” a voice said behind her. Frances turned to see the man with the moustache sitting at the bar. He sipped his glass of bourbon, residues of it sticking to his beard. He tilted his head up, and Frances could see his gray eyes.
“You know something about the store?” Frances said.
“Strange place that pet store. Quite a history. Youngsters like him in this town don’t remember it, but I sure do.”
“Strange like what?”
“Sit, and get yourself a drink. We may be here for a while.”
Not in the Past Anymore
Frances sat on a stall at the bar, an untouched glass of soda in front of her that the mysterious man had insisted on buying. He looked at her and took a sip from his fresh glass of bourbon, not taking his eyes off her as he sipped.
“So it started back in the seventies. This town was a lot smaller back then, but it felt busier if you get me? This street was thriving. There was a drug store, liquor, you could buy fresh meat. It was nice you know?”
Frances nodded. She looked around the bar. The barman had gone. It was just her and this strange man.
“Nothing much changed around here, but then this new guy moved in, Ged Morgan.
“You mean Gen Morgan senior, the father of the man who runs the place now?” Frances said.
The man nodded. “He bought the store next door and did it up real good. It was the talk of the town. But I always knew something wasn’t right about him. Not many people could see through it, but I could.”
“Was he doing something wrong?” Frances frowned.
“We used to play cards for cash in this very bar. This place was different back then. It was the most popular bar in town. It was full of people every night of the week. Not the shit heap it is now.”
“Hey!” the barman called out from further down the bar, where he was cleaning glasses, feigning insult at the put-down. The man gave him a raised eyebrow. “Ok, good point, but still, that hurt.”
“So every Tuesday was card night. We were playing crazy eights, and it must have been two in the morning or something, but we were still going. Ged was there, he was Mr. family man to his customers, but after hours he was a mean drunk with a temper if he was losing. Well, I was winning, and he was raging. And he was really drunk, even for him. When it came for him to pay up, he just stormed out without paying anything.” He paused to down his drink. “Now I haven’t told anyone this before but you look like an alright gal, I can trust you, right?”
Frances nodded. “Of course.” She took a sip from her glass.
“I was young and cocky and thought I was above the law. And I was really drunk. So me and a couple of guys decided to get the money back from him. We went around the back of his store and smashed a window in, planning on getting money out of the cash register. We got in ok, but then we heard a noise. It was dogs barking, but these dogs weren’t the pretty things he kept in the windows. This was the sound of dogs in pain. We looked around the pet store, and it looked pretty neat. The puppies were cute. But it wasn’t them crying it was coming from the basement. So we managed to open the basement and went downstairs and found…” His words drifted into nothing as he paused to take his glass to his mouth and down the last of his bourbon. His hand shook as he lowered it from his mouth.
“What did you find?” Frances said.
“We went down into the basement and found dogs, lots of them. But these dogs,” he shook his head. “They were in a sad state. They had infections and were scratched up and looked ill. And they were big, angry dogs. They weren’t pets. They were bred for dog fighting. And then Ged walked in, he found us. I didn’t know what to do, and I was seriously drunk. In hindsight, I should have gone to the cops, but I didn’t.”
“You didn’t go to the cops? Even though you knew?” Frances realised she had raised her voice. She moved in closer and spoke quieter. “Even though you knew he was mistreating animals?”
He looked down at his whisky and shook his head. “No, I should have gone to the cops, but I didn’t have the guts. Ten years later he died of a heart attack. I felt such a relief when it happened, knowing that the dogs wouldn’t be hurt anymore.”
“I don’t understand, if you cared about the animals, why didn’t you go to the cops?
The man was silent for a moment, then he spoke quietly. “I had a wife, and she was pregnant. I worked in a factory and did double shifts, but I still couldn’t really provide for them. Ged knew this you see.”
“He paid you off.” Frances had worked it out. “He paid me triple what he owed me.”
“I couldn’t say no to the money. I should have done something, but I couldn’t afford it. I was desperate, and Ged knew it.”
The lights went out around them, save for the light near the entrance. Frances jumped, knocking her glass over.
“Relax, it’s closing time,” the man said. Frances stood up. The man stood and grabbed her wrist.
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” He said. “It was all in the past, and he’s dead now.” Frances shook him off of her.
“He’s dead, but I think it is like father, like son. There is something bad going on next door still.” She turned to leave, then turned back around. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about what you said.” The man looked relieved. Frances turned and left the bar and headed out into the dark night.
~
Frances stared o
ut of the window of the bus. It was a hot September day, and the air shook with the heat. She could feel a bead of sweat drip down her neck. She was on her way to college. She balanced her geometry book on her lap and stared at the equations. They may have well have been written in a foreign language. Her lids felt heavy and her mouth dry. After getting back from the bar late, she had missed visiting hours at the hospital and had hardly had any sleep. She looked out of the window. They were heading down the main street. The bus stopped to pick up a few people.
She closed her eyes and felt the bus as it jolted into motion. They stopped at another stop. She opened her eyes. She could see The Old Pet Store. She could see Mr. Morgan outside washing the windows. Frances felt anger rising in her at the sight of him. He stopped and waved to a passing car. Frances grabbed her bag and jumped up. She ran off of the bus and marched over to the store.
"Mr. Morgan, I'm onto you." She held on to her mobile phone that she had put into record mode, she held it at waist height and behind her back to make it look as if she just had her hand on her hip.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean." He turned to face her.
“You are up to something illegal here. And I have the evidence.” He turned back to his store window, took a cloth out of his pocket and started to wipe a small smear on the glass. He stood back and scrutinised the glass.
“So you must be the young lady who broke into my business. You are lucky I didn’t take anything further with the police.” He waved at a woman walking past with a dog.
“You won’t be able to get away with this. I have your book, and that is evidence of you…”
“You steal from me then dare to come here and threaten me?” He stood closer to her, He was tall, and he used his height to intimidate her. “I could crush you like a…” His words drifted off. He stood back. “I’m sorry young lady. But I think you had better go, I have a bad heart, and I can’t cope with all of this stress. Now go away. If you want to discuss this any more, then I will want my lawyer present.” He leaned in a bit closer to her. “And maybe a young lady like yourself should keep her nose out of other people’s business.” He glanced down at her arm which was still behind her back. “I’d better be going now,” he said in a loud and cheerful voice. “I’m glad we got this misunderstanding sorted. And no, I won’t be pressing charges for the window. Have a good day young lady.” He went inside the store.
Frances clutched her phone which was recording the whole conversation. He was clever. He had worked out what she was doing. She stormed off and headed down the street and didn’t look back. When she got to the end of the street, she headed around the row of stores and walked past the back of the pet store. It looked the same as it always had. Frances looked at her watch. She had missed her lecture now anyway. She headed back onto the street and found a coffee shop. She sat herself down in a dark corner with her drink and got out the book she had stolen off of Ged and looked in it again. 1208197201100. She looked at the first part. 12081972. It was a date. 12/08/1972. The last part could be a stock number or a price. She still couldn’t work it out. She got out her phone and performed a search for the store on a search engine. Local Pet Store wins Award, Pet Store Open for 50 Years, The Old Pet Store’s speciality Dog Food wins Culinary Award. All she could find were positive news stories. There was nothing which gave the impression of anything less than a successful business which locals loved. She had nothing. Frances sipped her drink and thought for a moment. She got her phone out and called Kyle in the hospital.
“Kyle? It’s me. I’ve been thinking about what you were saying. I think you’re right. As soon as you feel ready, I think we need to break into the pet store again. I need to get my hands on some real evidence.”
That Feeling on the Back of Your Neck
Frances and Kyle stood behind some cars opposite The Old Pet Store and further down the street. They were both wearing dark clothes this time. Frances used a pair of binoculars to spy into the store. She could see Ged in the store. He was turning off the lights in the store. He then came out of the front door and locked it behind him. He got into this car and drove off.
“How long do you think we should wait?” Kyle whispered.
“I think we should go in now.” They silently crossed the road and headed towards the store. Kyle was a few steps behind Frances, still feeling the effects of the blood loss. Kyle went to the boot and took out a camera and a tool kit. They took the long route going to the end of the street, then going behind the row of stores. They got to the back door and looked at the small window, it was bolted shut and had a shiny new lock on it. They looked on the floor for a spare key. There wasn’t one.
“He’s tightened things up around here,” Kyle said. “It doesn’t look like we can sneak in.”
Frances looked around, she saw a building at the end of the street was being extended she ran over to it and crossed the building site tape. She picked up a heavy brick and came back. She looked up at the window and raised her arm.
“Wait!” Kyle hissed. “What are you doing?” He put his hand on her arm to stop her.
“We need to get in, don’t we?” She said. “If we get the evidence we need then the police won’t care about a broken window.” Kyle glared at her for a moment. Then he took his arm down and turned his back on her. She threw the brick up at the window. The single pane of glass smashed. She turned and looked meekly to Kyle.
“There’s no turning back now,” she said. Kyle shook his head at her. He bent down and cupped his hands together ready for Frances to stand on. She placed one foot in his hands, and she grabbed hold of the window ledge.
“Ouch,” she cried out.
“What is it?”
“I cut myself on a piece of loose glass,” she said. He lowered her to the floor. She looked down at the red line forming across her palm. Kyle shined the flashlight up to the window frame which had blood dripping off of it.
“I think they’ll know it’s us now. If the blood is found the police could DNA test it or something,” he said. “Do you want to turn back?”
“No,” Frances said. “We can’t go back.” She took her headscarf off of her head and wrapped it tightly around her palm a couple of times. She motioned for him to help her up again. When she got to the top, she took off her jacket and laid it across the broken glass. She climbed in carefully and landed on the floor. She turned to the back door to open it for Kyle. There was a big padlock on it. She pulled at it, but it wouldn’t open.
“Kyle? I can’t open the back door,” she hissed.
“Well I can’t get in through the window, I’m too big. Try the front.” She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. She took her flashlight and shined it around the storeroom. It looked as ordinary as last time. She crept around, heading to the front of the store. She opened the door to the hallway. She shined the flashlight up the stairs. The door at the top was shut like last time. She opened the door to the store and gasped at what she saw. It was empty. The shelves were empty, some lying on the floor. The till was clear and the register gone. She shined the flashlight in the front window. The cages where the puppies had been were now gone. She went to the front door. As she was about to get there, she heard someone move outside. Frances jumped back.
“It’s me,” Kyle whispered from the other side. “What are you waiting for? Let me in.” Frances breathed out and headed to the front door. She shined her flashlight on it. There was a bolt at the bottom door which she undid. She tried the handle, but it wouldn’t open.
“Look at the top,” Kyle hissed. She shined her flashlight up high and saw a bolt at the top. She slid it across and tried the handle again, but it wouldn’t budge. She shined the flashlight along the crack in the door. The door was locked with a key as well.
“I need a key. It’s locked.” Frances hissed. “And there’s something else. The store is empty.”
“What do you mean empty?”
“Empty!” She repeated. “Like he’s closi
ng the store. Maybe I did scare him when I spoke to him.”
“Forget about that for now Frances,” Kyle said. “Be quick. Go and look around.” Frances shined the flashlight around the store. It felt eerier without any puppies in it. She walked towards the counter thinking if there were a spare key anywhere it would be there. She accidentally bumped into a shelf. On it was one tin of dog food which fell onto the floor with a crash. The noise echoed around the store.
“What was that?” Kyle shouted. “Are you ok?”
“Yes,” she hissed back, “I’m fine.” She heard the noise of a creaking floorboard. She looked around with her flashlight, but she couldn’t see anyone, but it was enough to spook her. She ran over to the empty till area and shined her flashlight around. She opened drawers and looked for a spare key, but she couldn’t see one. She ran back to the front door.
“I can’t find the key Kyle. I think I’m just going to carry on looking around myself.”
“Look, I think you should just get out,” Kyle said. “I don’t like you being in there by yourself.”
“But I have to find something. There must be some evidence that he was selling dogs for dogfighting.”
“But the store is empty, and he’s gone now. He has probably left for another town.” Kyle sounded tired and exasperated. “Please just come out.”
“The basement!” Frances almost shouted. “That’s it! We never got the chance to look in the basement, but that is the room next to the bar. The room that smells bad. If something bad was going on it would be down there.” Frances ran off and headed to the back room where they had noticed the cracks in the floor. She shined her flashlight around on the floor. There was an old faded carpet she hadn’t noticed before. She pulled it back and saw a trap door. She tried to pull it open, but it was locked. The air smelled like rotting meat. She ran back to the door and spoke to Kyle.
Haunted House Tales Page 95