Empaths and Paws

by Penny Brooke

  I’d decided to set everything up as a buffet and let the boarders help themselves. Dinner was advertised for six o’clock and sure enough, they all came trudging downstairs on the dot. My stomach was in knots. I’d gambled everything on this. If it didn’t go well, I didn’t know what I’d do. Trying not to hover, I pointed everything out and hung around to answer questions before adjourning back to the kitchen to slice the pie.

  I looked at the partially-sliced strawberry pie and leaned against the double-swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room, receiving an admirable, “Oooooooh!” as I entered.

  I went back to the kitchen, and this time brought a huge bowl of whipped cream and a supplemental bowl of fresh, sliced strawberries for a topping. I was proud of myself, and all the couples gave more than their fair share of praise.

  There was a knock at the door, and I opened it to find Gretchen. She’d been crying. I could tell by her reddened, watery eyes—on a redhead with fuzzy hair, it was not a good look. “What on earth?”

  She sniffed. “Have you got an extra room where I can stay for the night?”

  “Well, of course, but what’s wrong?”

  “My most recent husband was supposed to be paying the mortgage on my house—he’s been doing it without a problem, but now he found a new sweetie, and I think she wants him to stop. So, the bank came and told me they were sending the sheriff to set me out. That’s Peter, by the way, you know.”

  I nodded and showed her into the library.

  “Well, I just started crying and didn’t want to be alone. I’m going to try and work something out, but I would just die if Peter came to the house and started moving my things onto the sidewalk.”

  “Oh, of course, you can stay here. Are you hungry?”

  She nodded.

  “We just finished. There’s plenty still there. Come on with me, and let’s get you a plate.”

  “Fiona, can I just eat in the kitchen? I look a mess and really don’t want questions, if you know what I mean.”

  I nodded. “No problem. Let’s go.”

  I got Gretchen settled, and by the time I got back to the dining room, it was empty, save for Lizzie Borden, who had jumped up on a pulled out chair and was happily muzzle-deep in my strawberry pie.

  “Lizzie! You get down from there!”

  She gave me a guilty look and jumped to the floor, scampering away to another part of the house. I picked up the destroyed pie so no one would see it and went back into the kitchen, my arms filled with dirty dishes.

  Gretchen glanced over at me. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full, Fiona. Can you handle all this?”

  “You know, that just occurred to me today, and to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure I can.”

  “Sounds like you’d better figure out how to fix that.”

  “Gretchen… You know what I just thought of? It’s right here, in front of our faces.”

  “What’s that?” She sniffed noisily.

  “Doesn’t this sound to you like the perfect storm, so to speak? I need help and you need somewhere to live. Would you like to move in here and help me out? After all, I’m going to be selling baked goods and opening that antique store. There’s no way I can possibly do all of that myself.”

  “It’s a thought,” she pondered. “But, I have some decorating clients.”

  “Enough to support you to buy your house back?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then you’ll be looking for a new gig anyway,” I continued. “Why not work here with me, and we’ll timeshare the work so you can take care of your clients, and I can tend to my store? Like, maybe I could be open in the antique store in the mornings, and in the afternoons when the boarders are coming in, I’ll be around, and I’ll be cooking.”

  She nodded. “I suppose that would work. So, I would take care of my design clients in the afternoon, right?”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “Oh, darn. It’s going to be hard to fit romance into that.”

  “Gretchen, you’re going to have to find another way to make a living other than alimony. Let that be your pocket money but work here with me and let’s make some real money so we never have to worry about it again.”

  She stuck out her hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

  I put Gretchen in one of the empty rooms in the hall opposite my own. That way, between us, we could split the workload taking care of the rooms and the boarders when they needed it. I was very excited, having just a short time before been very depressed by the realization that I just couldn’t handle everything myself. “Tonight, you are my guest. Sit there and enjoy your dinner, and tomorrow we’ll make out a duty roster. Deal?”

  “Deal.”

  By nine that evening, both Gretchen and I were dragging. Opening day had been a big deal, and I stressed myself into exhaustion. Etta and Lizzie Borden and I had become fast friends as both of them slept in my room with me. I locked the doors, turned out most of the lights, and bid my guests a good night. I left them sitting in the library, watching the television. I showered quickly and literally fell onto my bed. I closed my eyes once, and it was all over. My sore back and legs melted into the mattress.

  I had no awareness of time, but it must’ve been about five hours later, I’m thinking about three in the morning. I sat bolt upright in the bed as I heard a bloodcurdling scream and subsequent shrieks. A door opened down the hall, and the screaming was coming toward me. What on earth…? Someone was pounding on my door. “Fiona! Fiona! Open the door.”

  I rolled out of bed and into my robe as I approached the door and threw it open. “What’s wrong? Is something on fire?”

  It was Mrs. Smith. “No, it’s much worse than that. There is a horrible, filthy vermin in my room. I thought I was dreaming at first. It sat on the dresser and was looking at me, and then when I moved, it jumped off and disappeared into my closet.”

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Smith, but we don’t have ‘vermin’ in this house.”

  “I beg to differ. I can’t sleep knowing some creature is running around in our bedroom. Either you get it now, or Mr. Smith and I are leaving within the hour, and I will expect our money back and compensation for our trouble. Not to mention that my gold bracelet is missing. I know very well that I took it off before dinner so it wouldn’t clang against my plate, and when I came back, it was gone.”

  “No, no, I’ll do whatever I can to get to the bottom of this. Please, could you go down to the library and watch a little late-night television? I’ll round up Ben to get his help. As for your bracelet, I’m sure it just got knocked off onto the floor and is probably under your bed. We’ll look for that in the morning. You know no one stole it; we were all at dinner together.”

  “I suppose that would be okay,” she said tentatively, looking over her shoulder at Mr. Smith.

  “Fine, thank you. I’ll get right on it.”

  I dressed in some casual clothes and went to knock on Ben’s door, explaining through the wood that I needed his help. I heard him grumbling and made a mental note to give him twice as many pancakes in the morning as compensation. He came out giving me the evil eye, but when I told him about the pancakes, he cheered up considerably. “So, you think it’s a mouse?”

  “Mrs. Smith said she saw something, so I don't know. If you could find a flashlight, we’ll take a look. Check the closet, too. That’s where she claimed it went.”

  “I’ve got to say, you have some lousy luck. I hope it improves soon, or you’re going to end up like my third cousin Marianne.”

  I thought I would go mad if he told another story. “Could you just get the flashlight, Ben?”

  He nodded then waddled off while I went into the Smiths’ room and waited.

  My hand was leaning against the door when there suddenly appeared a vision in my mind’s eye. I saw a man, a little stocky, and I saw a boat behind him. He was looking at me, as though begging me to help him. I’d had incidents like that before, and I’d recognized th
em to be empathic based.

  Ben walked into the room then.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked. He must have seen the shock on my face.

  “Ben, don’t ask any questions, but I think we’re going to find something unexpected, and I need you to stay cool about it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I said not to ask any questions.”

  “Maybe the best thing would be to switch the Smiths to another room.”

  I nodded. “I think you’re right. Let’s check with them first.”

  I called downstairs to the library to the couple to tell them that we’d gladly move them to another room if they’d like to come up and go back to sleep. They trudged up the stairs like a couple of zombies, obviously grateful for the accommodation.

  Between Ben and I, we dragged the Smiths’ luggage and personal items into the room across the hall. As soon as that was complete and they were settled into their new room, I waited for a little while until I thought they were back to sleep. I looked up and there stood Gretchen. “What’s going on?”

  I explained quickly and then went on to say that we were going to check their room for any signs of mice.

  “I’ll stick around,” she said. “Anything’s better than lying awake, picturing the murders I’m going to commit.”

  I ignored her statement. She’d always been highly emotional and overstated things to the point of becoming hysterical.

  I got down onto my knees outside the closet door in case the rodent was waiting for me to open it and scampered past me. Of course, the mouse, if there was one, was probably in the walls somewhere by this point—but I wanted to play it safe. I held my hand at the floor level and slowly opened it outward. I didn’t see anything. “Ben, will you keep the light trained at the floor level, please?”

  Ben nodded and accommodated me. I scooted on my knees forward, pushing aside the Smiths’ coats they’d left hanging there to get a better look. I ran my hand along the base trim of the closet, and when I reached the back wall, energy shot through me. I jerked my hand back as though I’d been burned.

  “What’s wrong?” Ben asked. “Is the house on fire inside the walls?”

  “Ben, will you stop with the house-burning-down stuff. You rewired everything, remember. If it’s on fire, you’re responsible, and you’re paying the bill this time.”

  “You don’t have to get witchy about it.”

  My eyebrows went up. Did Ben sense that something was unusual? I didn’t want anyone to know of my sensitive tendencies, or they would declare my house a witch’s house, and I’d be out of business.

  “I’m sorry. There’s something strange about this back wall.” I tapped on it in a circular motion. “Hear that? The sound changes.”

  “I know all about that. I’m an electrician, you know. We’re used to finding conduit and studs by tapping on the wall.”

  “Okay, if you’re so smart, you get down on your knees and tap on this wall. I’ll get up and tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

  Gretchen moaned. “Do you two always bicker like this?”

  Ben let out a huff. “Fiona, it’s three in the morning. I’m tired, and I ate too much at supper. Boy, that strawberry shortcake was delicious. I could’ve had three or four, maybe even five more servings…”

  “Ben, would you save the storytelling for a better time, please?”

  “All right, then come on out of there and let me in.”

  I gladly switched places with him. The energy that had shot through me when I touched the back piece of base trim had literally felt like fire. I knew it wouldn’t bother him, and he was stronger than I was. “Touch down toward the bottom, just where the trim starts.”

  “I think I can handle this,” he said, looking over his shoulder up at me. “It’s times like these I’m glad I never got married.”

  “Oh, Ben, that was just rude. You may be a boarder here for the next year, but I can make your life miserable. One more word out of you, and there will be no more strawberry shortcake.”

  “Oh, a woman can be wicked when she wants.”

  I decided to quit arguing with him. The sooner we discovered what was behind the wall and found the stupid mouse, if there even was one, the sooner we could all go to bed and manage another hour’s sleep before the sun came up.

  He tapped around on the wall and worked downward toward the trim, going over the same spot three times.

  I squinted down at him. “Find something?”

  “Maybe. Can you get me something I can use to pry this trim away? If you don’t have a screwdriver up here, maybe a nail file and a toothbrush?”

  “Hold on, don’t get up,” I said. “I’ll look around and see what I can find.”

  I returned shortly thereafter with a nail file and a sturdy toothbrush, which had a thinner handle on it. I thought Ben could use it as a wedge, and indeed, he did. He started at one side and worked his way to the other, careful not to put too much pressure on it so that it came off in one piece. “I don’t know where we’ll ever find another piece of trim to match this,” he said. “The stuff has to be 150 years old.”

  “More than that, but I’m not going to pick details.”

  “Thank you. All right, I’ve almost got it off.” I saw it pop loose and he pulled it toward himself. There was wood on the back wall, but it was unlike the paneling in other parts of the house. “What the heck?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think it’s hollow back there. I don’t feel any lathe. We’re going to need some better tools for this. Hang tight in case the little vermin sneaks out around you, and I’m going out to my truck to get my toolbox.”

  “That’s a good idea, don’t take your time.” I looked at Gretchen. “Do you believe this?”

  Gretchen shrugged. “I was just thinking that sleeping in a cardboard box down by the railroad tracks might be a good option for me.”

  Ben rolled his eyes and grunted as he got up off the floor. He pushed against my hip so that he could get around me and out of the room. I wondered how he managed to do his work being in such poor shape, but I wasn’t going to argue. He was doing this for free. I kept the flashlight trained on the gap between the bottom of the wall and where the trim had covered it. I didn’t see anything. Ben was back soon, holding in one hand a hammer and in the other, a crowbar. I stood back out of the way and then shined the light where he began prying the back wall. I let him work for ten minutes or so and appreciated the fact that he was using such care. He was quite right when he said we’d have trouble replacing anything we removed. 200-year-old wood was impossible to find.

  Suddenly, Ben grunted.

  “What’s wrong? Did you find anything?”

  “Oh, yeah, I found something. I’m pretty sure this whole back wall is one solid piece of paneling. If I pull at it evenly from all sides, if we have any luck, it’ll pop off in one piece.”

  “Then do it.”

  “Thank you for your permission,” he said sarcastically.

  “Ben, let’s not fight.”

  “I’m not fighting. I’m working. You’re on the clock, if you didn’t know.”

  “Ben, that’s not fair. You know I don’t have the money for this sort of thing.”

  “So, let me understand, I’m just supposed to do everything you want for free because you don’t have the money to pay for it?”

  “Ben, do you like being a boarder here?”

  “I don’t mind it. Why?”

  “I might be closing up the joint if I don’t get it fixed. So, you have a stake in helping me out.”

  “Don’t get so prickly.”

  “Yeah, Fiona, don’t be so prickly,” Gretchen chimed in.

  Suddenly, in the midst of our bickering, the back wall of the closet did, indeed, pop loose, and Ben stood, holding it in his hands. He shuffled sideways, tipping it to clear the doorway and then laid it on the bed. I shined the light into the back of the closet.

  A flash of fur came scurr
ying toward me, and I covered my mouth, trying to muffle my shriek. Gretchen jumped up on the bed, away from the mouse.

  “Wait a minute,” I said, watching the long creature scurrying around on the hardwood floor, its little claws trying to get purchase.

  “That’s not a mouse,” Ben said. “I think that’s a ferret.”

  My eyes went wide. “We found Sherlock!”

  I did my best to catch my Aunt Mable’s missing ferret, but the moment I reached down, he jig-jagged around and then took off across the room, back toward the open closet door and into the hole in the wall.

  Rushing over, I peered into the dark hole again, listening. I heard Sherlock emitting a slight whine. Then, silence.

  “Ben, shine that light in here again.”

  Ben and Gretchen came up behind me, then the light shone into the hole. I squinted to see, but what I saw was anything but a ferret…

  “Oh, my gawd. Is that what it looks like?”

  “That depends whether you’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking,” Gretchen said.

  “It looks like a casket to me.”

  “I was going to let you say it first.”

  Ben let out a low whistle. “You have the worst luck of anyone I’ve seen.”

  “If we just shut the door, we’ve already relocated the Smiths across the hall,” I said. “They don’t need to know what we found. We’ll just hope Sherlock comes back out on his own.”

  “Oh no, you don’t, little lady. Do you happen to know who’s in the coffin?”

  “Of course not. For one thing, the wood paneling is so old that the coffin had to have been put in there originally and covered over.”

  “Well, I’m not going to argue architecture with you, but I will tell you this: This is now officially a crime scene. You need to get over to your phone and give Peter a call.”

  “I can’t do that, Ben. If the boarders find out, they’ll all leave. I’ll have to refund their money, and then I’ll be in the hole. I’ve already bought supplies.”

  “That’s what I mean about you having bad luck. Of course, if they know there’s a dead body in here, they’re not going to want to sleep next to it. You don’t have any choice. The law says that if you find a body somewhere it’s not supposed to be, and I think inside a wall probably qualifies, you have to call the authorities. They will check out the scene, determine if it was a murder, do DNA testing, all kinds of ugly, expensive stuff. For all you know, they may accuse you.”