The Ghost Dances the Nutcracker

by Kristine Frost

  She turned three pages until she came to the title page. There was one word: JURNAL written in flowing script. She held it so Courtney could see the page.

  “Jurnal? Did they misspell Journal?” Courtney looked totally confused.

  Tabitha laughed. “That’s where my Genealogical studies come in handy. This book must date back to the Middle English period. You remember the Canterbury Tales by Chaucer, don’t you?”

  “Vaguely. I think that was one of those classes I tried to forget.”

  Tabitha recited: Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote,

  The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

  Courtney put her hands over her ears. “Enough. I do remember that. I had to memorize the entire prologue in Middle English and then recite it in class. Can you imagine how painful it was listening to thirty students doing their A levels reciting that Prologue for three weeks in class?” She shuddered dramatically.

  “I think this book is written in Middle English which if I remember right was from 1066 to about the fifteen hundreds.”

  Courtney gasped, grabbing Tabitha’s arm. “Our ghost, if Mark’s book is correct was Bethia Payne who lived in the middle 1400’s. Could this be our ghost’s diary?”

  Tabitha shrugged. “Women weren’t well educated in the dark ages, but wouldn’t it be great if it was hers?”

  Tabitha turned to the first page of writing. “Wow. This is going to take some work. I can barely make out the words.”

  Courtney rubbed her eyes. “I’ll say. Do you want me to find someone to translate it for us?”

  Tabitha stood as if frozen. She said slowly, like her mind was far away. “No. No. No. I don’t think our little ghost wants anyone else to read this.”

  Courtney’s grip on Tabitha’s arm tightened. “Are you feeling her?”

  Tabitha nodded. “She’s here. She gave you the book. I don’t know how since the book is physical and she’s not.”

  Courtney swallowed. She hated the thought of a real ghost in her home. The name Ghost Haven was fun. Secret passages were fun. Priest holes were fun. Real ghosts that dropped books, not so fun.

  “I had Charley put a lock on the door to your painting supplies. You should probably lock the book in there until you can find time to read it.”

  Tabitha slowly closed the book. “That’s a good idea. I think I’ll try tomorrow morning when the light is better. I hope I can find a translation of The Canterbury tales. That would probably help me translate this.”

  Courtney walked over to one of the metal stands Charley had set up that held her bins. “Here’s a notebook you can use to write your translation.”

  “Thanks.” Tabitha took the book and set it on top of the diary. “I have a feeling that what’s written in here is very important.” But important to what? She wasn’t sure of that.

  Chapter 36—Ghost Haven

  The next morning, Tabitha had just set up her easel in the porch when Courtney came running into the kitchen. She slid into the porch, nearly upsetting her best friend.

  Tabitha frowned at her as she caught her canvas just before it pitched to the floor.

  “Hey, easy.” Her voice was cross.

  Courtney grabbed Tabitha’s arm. “Tab, you’re not going to believe this. It’s the worst luck.”

  Tabitha frowned as she thumb tacked Liu’s picture to the canvas. Her mind clearly wasn’t on Courtney’s announcement. “What?”

  “Inspector London is here with his fiancée and her family.”

  Tabitha dropped the brush she had just picked up. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. The reservation was made during our open house before they were engaged.” She looked like she was going to cry. “If I would have known her family’s name I would never have made a reservation but I don’t see how I can kick them out now.”

  Tabitha backed into the corner, sliding down the wall. “You can’t. It would ruin your reputation and you’ve worked too hard to blow it for me. I’ll need to find somewhere else to stay.”

  Hargraves eased his way on to the porch. “You need to stay here. It’s the safest place for you. I know Scotland Yard is getting close. Tolliver email me. They have proof that Duval was dating a married man. They have a description. They have a witness.”

  Tabitha sighed. “I know that she was dating a married man. I heard the description. But a big, blond man who dresses expensively could be a lot of men in London and even more in England.”

  Hargraves nodded. “We can lock the door to the fourth floor so no one can go up there. We can use the servant stairs for ourselves.”

  Tabitha laid her face against her knees. “Courtney, you’d better go check them in. London will be suspicious if you don’t since you let him stay to recover from his surgery.”

  “Blast him.” She snarled. “I’m beginning to believe that no good deed goes unpunished.”

  She turned and left the porch.

  Tabitha looked at Hargraves. “How am I going to work on this painting. I need to get it about six others done as soon as possible. He’s sure to come into the kitchen to see Mrs. Mere.”

  Hargraves said, “What if you paint in the Ghostly Gallery. Rupert’s up there. We can lock the door and say that we’re still working on getting things repaired.”

  Tabitha nodded her head. “Can we get to the third floor without being seen?”

  “The rooms the Windsor’s reserved are on the second floor. They reserved The Master’s suite, the Payne suite for their daughter and the room you had when you first came here.”

  “Do you have a lot of people on the third floor?” She laughed. “That’s a stupid question. We wouldn’t be camping on the fourth floor if you weren’t full up.”

  Charley came hurrying in. “Courtney is checking them in. I’m supposed to get your things up to the gallery. I hope we can get in. Sometimes the door is locked and sometimes it’s not. I never know what will happen.”

  “It will open for me.” Tabitha said with confidence, adding, “And if it doesn’t I can go in through the secret passage and unlock it from the inside.”

  Charley picked up her easel in one hand and her canvas in the other. “This way.”

  He took the stairs two at a time. Tabitha clutching her paint box and palette running after him.

  When they got to the third floor, Tabitha gently tapped on the door to the ghostly gallery. Slowly the door swung open.

  “I don’t know how you do that? It sure won’t open for me or Courtney.”

  There was a low bark, the Rupert jumped over the dirty French sofa to put his paws on Tabitha’s shoulders. “Easy boy.” She said with a laugh. “Let me up these down and I’ll give you a proper hug.”

  Rupert dropped to four feet while she set her stuff on the table just inside the door. Then she patted her chest. Rupert put his front paws on her shoulders. “Boy, I’ve missed you.” She gave him a hug. “I’d have felt a lot safer with you by my side but I’m glad you protected Courtney.”

  After Charley had set up her easel, she walked to the window, looking down on the portico. She could see London and Hargraves laughing as they hauled in what looked like dozens of suitcases.

  She glanced down at Rupert. “I don’t think Eugenia or her mother understand the phrase ‘pack light’.

  Rupert gave a soft woof, then he trotted over to a big day lounge chair, jumped into it and put his head on his feet.

  Tabitha ruffled his fur as she walked by him. Opening the door quietly, she stepped to the edge of the stairs. Staying behind a large fake plant, Tabitha watched was Eugenia, dressed in an ice blue coat with fur on the collar and cuffs, black Manolo Blahnik shoes that sported three-inch heels. As she pulled off a large fur hat, the light glinted off a diamond bracelet on her wrist.

  She is so beautiful. Tabitha thought. I don’t stand a chance against someone like that.

  She stepped back into the gallery, locked the door, set up her canvas and began to sketch the background
for Liu’s portrait.

  Several hours later, Courtney tapped on the door. “It’s me. Open up.” Her voice was low, quiet, apprehensive.

  Tabitha hurried over to unlock the door. “What’s up. You sound nervous.”

  Courtney’s voice exploded from her. “That—that—awful woman. How could London get engaged to her. Talk about a prima donna. None of your prima donna ballerinas come close to being the prima donna that woman is.”

  “Are you talking about Eugenia?”

  “Is London engaged to more than one woman?” Courtney’s voice was snarky.

  Tabitha put her hands out in front of her. “Easy. I’m on your side. My nickname for her is Ice Princess. What did she do?”

  “It’s not what she did. It’s what she wants to do. And her parents and London won’t stop her.”

  “Probably can’t stop her.” Tabitha agreed. “So what is it?’

  “She wants to have a séance in this room tomorrow night. She’s already made arrangements for this medium to come. She wants me to get her a room. I told her I didn’t have any more rooms but she won’t take no for an answer.”

  Courtney began pacing around the room. “She told me to get rid of one of my other guests. Told me that her parents could buy Ghost Haven and they would if I didn’t agree to do so.”

  She began slamming her fist into her other hand. “I’ve worked too hard to let a rich little trollop take away Ghost Haven.”

  Tabitha put her arm around Courtney. “I’d call Mr. Harris. I don’t see how she could or her parents could buy Ghost Haven if you don’t want to sell. He can give you some ideas on how to handle her.”

  Courtney wiped the angry tears from her eyes. “I’ll go call him right now.”

  She paused looking at Tabitha’s painting. “Tab, that’s wonderful. I love the deep blue background with the costumes and scenery in the back.”

  “Thanks. I wanted to make the portrait something special, different since Mr. Cabot has done so much for me.” She picked up a flat brush, dipped it in black and laid the paint on Liu’s hair. Then she highlighted it with a deep cobalt blue that echoed the background.

  “You know, Courtney, maybe we could do something to get back at London’s dear Eugenia. Maybe we should see if we can arrange a ghostly demonstration for her.”

  “I wish we could, complete with a visit from our own ghost, but I don’t think she’s scary enough.”

  Tabitha’s eyes twinkled as she thought about their ghost. “What happened to the picture I was cleaning when I was here last. I thought I left it in my room.”

  Courtney opened a large desk that was between the middle windows. “I put right here when I found out I needed to rent out your room. I put your cleaning stuff here too.”

  “Good. When I finish up here, I want to work on cleaning it again.” She laid more paint on the portrait.

  Tabitha looked closely at the Liu’s picture. “I started translating the diary you discovered last night. I found a copy of The Canterbury Tales on my phone. I got about ten pages done. It seems that if this book is our ghost’s diary then her name was Aimee. Aimee Payne. She was born just as the clock struck twelve on New Year’s Day. She was born one minute into a new year, a new century. She was considered very good luck, poor child.”

  “That sounds good.” Courtney chuckled. “I’d like to be considered good luck.”

  “I haven’t gotten very far, but I don’t think I’d want her life.”

  “You’ll have to tell when you’re got more translated. I want to know more about her.”

  Tabitha nodded. “I will. It’s so difficult to read that I can only do a few pages at a time without it giving me a major headache.”

  Courtney walked to the door. “You’d better lock this behind me. Eugenie wouldn’t take no for an answer when I told her that she couldn’t come in here.”

  Tabitha waited while Courtney opened the door a crack, checked to make sure the coast was clear, then slipped out into the hall.

  She flipped the lock, put a chair under the doorknob and went back to her painting.

  An hour later, Rupert’s head came up, a growl issuing from his throat. Tabitha hurried over to him, putting her hand around his muzzle and whispering, “Shh.”

  The knob turned. When the door didn’t open, the person shook the knob hard. “Why is this stupid door locked. I want to see this so-called haunted gallery.”

  Tabitha could hear voices as she tip-toed to the door. “Charles, get me in this room. This was why I had Dad reserve rooms for Christmas. I want to spend Christmas in a haunted room.” Her voice was high, high enough to break crystal, high enough to make the fur on Rupert’s ears to stand up.

  He growled.

  She touched her finger to her lips. “Quiet.” Her voice was barely a murmur.

  “Eugenie, I’m not sure if your parents rented one of the haunted rooms. I know we can get into the secret passages from my room. I think I remember enough of the layout to get into the picture gallery from the passage.” It was London’s voice.

  Traitor. She thought. In a panic, she looked around. If London brought his bride-to-be in through the secret passageway, she’d be found. If London found her, he’d have to let Parker know where she was.

  At that moment, the room cooled suddenly. A white figure wearing a tall pointed hat with a scarf hanging down flowed through the fireplace.

  Tabitha froze. “Aimee?” Her voice was barely above a hum.

  Ignoring her, the floating white form glided across the room. She pointed toward a pear on the wall opposite the fireplace.

  Tabitha hurried toward her. Pears were the carved fruit that when turned opened the doors into the hidden passageways. Her hand went through the ghost’s hand when she turned the pear.

  To her surprise, a large door slid back showing a small room, bigger than the Priest holes they’d found, but smaller than a regular room.

  Tabitha stepped inside, taking a breath of air. They’d found the air in the secret passageways to be stale and almost unbreathable until they’d put fans in and aired them out.

  She sneezed. The air was breathable, dusty but breathable. Hastily, she grabbed her paint box and palette, her canvas and easel. Once they were inside, she checked the door to make sure the pear could be made to turn from the inside, then she started to close the panel, but the ghost quickly floated to where Courtney had left the painting Tabitha had been cleaning.

  Hastily, Tabitha grabbed the portrait and the cleaning chemicals and hurried back to the hidden room. She whistled softly for Rupert, closing the door, just as the secret panel slid back.

  In the dark, Tabitha realized that the ghost had entered the room with her. Her glowing form gave off a little light. Tabitha saw the ghost’s hand point to two holes that seemed to be lighter than the surrounding paneling.

  Standing on tiptoe, she looked through the holes. It was like she was looking through some type of fabric. She could see London enter the room, followed by Eugenia dressed in black leather pants, a black leather vest and a white silk shirt. She was wearing ankle boots with buckles and chains.

  London was wearing well-fitting blue jeans, a polo shirt and hiking boots. The scar from his temple to his ear glowed a deep red.

  Tabitha closed her eyes. I thought the doctor said the scar would fade soon. I hope there isn’t a problem.

  London turned the pear and the panel slid shut. He stopped for a minute sniffing the air.

  Drat. I’ll bet he can smell my oil paints. Tabitha watched nervously as they walked around the room.

  Eugenia snuffled. “I can smell—” She paused for a minute. “Oil Paints.” She looked at London. “I thought she was in London.”

  “She is. She can’t leave until Parker solves the case. He insists on thinking she’s the criminal.”

  “Then why do I smell paint?” Her voice was petulant.

  “She painted in here when I was recovering from my surgery. The smell must have gotten into the curtains. The do
or probably hasn’t been opened or the room aired out since then.”

  She walked around looking at the faded portraits, the tattered furniture, the dusty drapes. “I can see why she keeps the door locked. I don’t understand why she doesn’t do something with this room.”

  London shrugged. “It’s supposed to be haunted. Hargraves told me that whenever they tried to clean the bad things happened.”

  She laughed. “It will be perfect for my séance tomorrow night. I’ll make sure Madam Aurand can come tomorrow night.”

  “But why Eugenia. Why a séance? You don’t—you can’t believe in that garbage.”

  Tabitha stiffened at the look Eugenia shot her fiancé. It wasn’t the look a woman bestows on the man she loves, it was a look that said, ‘Watch out or I’ll eat you.”

  Eugenia turned on her expensive boots, stalking over to the door. She pushed the lock. Turned the knob. Nothing happened. The door didn’t budge.

  London joined her, turning the knob hard. Still nothing.

  At that moment, Tabitha realized that ‘Aimee’ wasn’t in the room with her. Tabitha could see her dimly crossing the long picture gallery.

  What’s she up to? Tabitha shook her head. If she wasn’t a ghost, I’d be worried about her.

  She watched as Aimee ran her fingers lightly over Eugenia’s face, then around her neck, pulling at her hair.

  Eugenia began rubbing her face like she’d run into a spider web. “Get me out of here. I hate spiders.”

  “This way.” London took her hand, leading her back to the secret passage.

  Once they were through the panel and into the secret passageway, Tabitha leaned against the wall and laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks. Maybe Eugenia wouldn’t be so dead set on holding a séance after that little demonstration.

  A few hours later, Tabitha put away her easel and set up her cleaning kit. She opened the priest hole for air. Taking the small portrait, she began putting the remover on her cotton swabs. Gradually, the colors began to emerge on her face. Deep brown eyes with golden flecks, long black lashes, the kind of lashes the Irish say were put in with dirty fingers. Eyebrows, long, dark, winged, giving her face an elfish expression. Dark brown hair pulled straight back revealing a wide, wrinkle-free forehead.