“So? I got one on my phone.”
Jack shook his head slightly. “No, a video recording camera. A video tape. I had it transferred to digital last week at Ms. Braithwaite’s request.”
“Okay. You sort of said that before.”
“A VHS tape, Mr. Ryan.”
“I heard you the first time, Mr. Chang.”
Chang shook his head again. “I’m not being clear because I’m so baffled.” He put his hands on the desktop. “That recording you just saw? I made it more than twenty years ago.”
Chapter Three
That same evening, Myra finished up her shift at the restaurant for the day. It had been a busy shift and she was beat to a snot. Two months along in her pregnancy and the baby was sucking energy from her like a vampire. She patted her stomach. Not that she was complaining, the tips had been good, and she had supper in hand. Nothing like an employee discount from working in a restaurant to take the edge off a hard day’s work!
She had sent Barry a text telling him she was ready to go home, but didn’t hear back. Oh man, she hoped he wasn’t on some out of town call. She didn’t want to have to wait for the bus; the day was dreary enough.
Cars whipped by on the street, busy with the usual crowd getting off work and hurrying home. She pulled her collar higher at the gust of icy air buffeting her face and turned to stride down the sidewalk to the bus stop.
“Hey Myra!”
Hearing Barry’s voice, she spun around. There he was, leaned over the front seat of the cab, a big grin on his face, peering at her through the open, passenger side window.
Eight years married, and still he was great looking, even with that broken nose he got as a kid. He needed a haircut, his brown locks were pretty tousled. Those pale blue eyes of his shone from his fair complexion. She once described him as having a peaches and cream complexion, and he laughed at her for calling him ‘girly’. He was stopped in the street blocking traffic and was waving at her to get in.
She grabbed the door handle and hopped in to escape the blustery day. After planting a big kiss on his cheek she tugged the seat belt over her.
“How’d it go today? Anyone else at the funeral?” She turned to look at him, trying to read the expression on his face. The old lady’s death had really bothered him. Much more so than she would have expected, considering she was just a customer, even if one of his regular ones.
“Just me and the lawyer. Her only relative, her nephew showed up at Jack Chang’s office afterwards.” Barry shook his head. “What a total jerk.” He snorted and the car started moving again.
“Poor Stella. That’s kind of sad.” Myra wiggled her toes in her work shoes. She hadn’t sat down for more than five minutes all day with the steady stream of customers. The rain and chilly weather helped keep the restaurant business hopping. Even though she had a great set of footwear for work—as good as any nurse’s shoes, her feet hurt like hell. They were starting to swell a little, which was pretty early in her pregnancy. Thank God she grabbed dinner to-go. She couldn’t wait to get home and take a hot bath.
When Barry changed lanes and flipped the turn signal on, she frowned. “Where’re you going? This is the opposite direction to home.”
“I want to show you something.” Barry looked over at her his eyes showing excitement, even though he kept his voice matter of fact. He turned back to the road, rubbing his hand up and down the leg of his pants. Under his crooked but cute nose, the corner of his mouth twitched.
She had to smile despite feeling so weary. He was like a kid giving his Dad a gift at Christmas, trying to keep a happy secret, but busting to tell it. “Something good, I take it?” She inhaled deeply, feeling a rush of love for her crazy guy.
“It depends.” He turned and the sudden seriousness in his eyes was a little unsettling.
She decided to play it lightly even though a pall had dampened her spirit. “Depends on whether we can afford it? Depends on my mood, whether you’ll get lucky tonight or—”
“Shush! You’ll never guess, so don’t even try.” He reached over and squeezed her knee, running his hand higher up her leg in the tan stockings. “How was work? Make me some money, honey?”
“Yeah, it was a pretty good day, over a hundred and fifty bucks. Joanne called in sick so I was crazy busy.” Her head bobbed forward when a thought from that morning hit her. “What’d you see the lawyer about? Don’t tell me that old lady left you something.”
He pressed the accelerator harder when the light turned orange, getting through the intersection quickly. There was a smile on his face when he glanced over at her. “Stella. Her name was Stella.” He took a breath. “I’ll never forget her.”
She grinned and closed her eyes for a moment. It was actually one of the endearing things about Barry— the kindness and respect he showed to other people. Even though he’d gently put her in her place, she loved him like crazy. “Okay. Sorry. Stella.” She held her hands out palms up. “So, you get us some money, honey?”
When he flipped the turn signal once more, waiting for traffic to clear, she frowned. “Barry?”
“Patience, young Jedi,” he said. He was maneuvering the car up West Street. He went through the Queen’s University campus and continued down Union Street, past the homes that doubled as student rentals and into a more genteel and older part of the city. Many of these homes had been built as single family dwellings over a century ago. She looked out the window with a twinge of envy as they passed houses with circular driveways and detached garages. She didn’t like to think about it, but the garages were twice the size of the apartment they lived in.
“Barry,” she said, holding up the plastic bag with their takeout supper. “Dinner will get cold, and it’s your fave— chicken marsala with ‘shrooms.”
He glanced over. “We’ll eat soon, don’t worry.” He gave her a cheese grin. “That is, if you’ll be able to eat!” He turned the car down Center Street. Lake Ontario was just a block or two away.
“You want to eat outside by the lake? In this weather? Barry, do you have a screw loose or something?”
He ignored her and turned into a circular driveway, stopping in front of a two storey limestone house. When he turned to her, there was a mile-wide grin on his face. “Honey, we’re home!”
Chapter Four
She stood in front of the huge building, her head tilted back. Before her was a set of five steps that ascended to an expansive portico that had a balcony railing on top. She knew that balcony would lead to the master bedroom. Their bedroom.
The massive limestone walls continued past to a pointed arch which spread out to a hip roof covering the rest of the home she supposed. At the top of the roof, not one, but two wide chimneys reached further up to the grey sky.
Her gaze went to the left and right of the building, seeing the walkways that went around to the back yard.
Barry's warm hand took hers and they silently climbed the stairs to the entrance. He took a set of keys from his pocket and opened the door. It was a thick, heavy door, and in the center was a cut glass window.
Still wordlessly, they stepped into the foyer.
She wrapped her arms around herself, gazing numbly around. The right of the foyer was taken up by a cherry wood entryway bench that was longer than their living room sofa. On the left, a boot rack, hall tree and umbrella stand were placed. The foyer was bigger than their bedroom.
Myra turned to her husband to see him smiling down at her. She turned back and stepped into the main hallway. Enormous rooms to her left and right, each one larger than their own apartment bracketed a wide central staircase that would lead up to even grander and more spacious rooms she had ever stepped foot in.
She turned to Barry again.
"She gave this to you?"
He nodded with a smile. "To us, hon. That whole marriage thing, y'know?"
"No more Montreal Street?" She saw him nod his head. No more hookers walking the stroll on Friday and Saturday nights? No more listening to foul m
outhed fights in their building on the weekends after the Social Services checks came in? No more hallways stinking of cigarette smoke?
Barry nodded as if he'd heard her thoughts. "That's right. None of it."
She reached out to him with one hand, the other holding her womb.
And burst into tears.
****
Barry held his weeping wife and his own shoulders quaked as well. As she emptied out the shock and surprise he looked around the house. He had never been past the foyer. Glancing over, to the coat rack and bench he saw Stella’s heavier coat and boots already placed neatly in anticipation of the coming winter. His chest tightened. He would never see her in those things again.
It took Myra just a minute to collect herself. She took a deep breath tilted her head up at him. Stepping away, she tugged him by the hand. “Let’s check this place out!”
Her tears gone, her face was now a huge grin over her Betty Boop blue eyes. Stepping into the hallway, Barry took a sniff of the air. There was an ancient smell of lemon wax and old books, kind of a library smell. It wasn’t unpleasant, just kind of different than he would have thought. He gave his head a small shake. Hell! What had he expected? What was a ‘house of power’ supposed to smell like?
When he stepped on the wooden floorboard, it groaned in protest, as if in mourning for Stella’s lighter footstep.
Myra let go of his hand and skipped into the dining room. When he followed her through a wide archway, she stood staring at the huge dining room table, piled high with books and papers.
She picked up a book and looked over at him. “Stella liked to read, didn’t she?”
“It explains how she was always up on current events. She was sharp as a tack.”
Myra set the book down and looked around the room from the antique sideboard up to the ceiling. “Wow! These ceilings must be ten feet tall!”
Barry stretched his hand over his head, eyeing the distance between it and the ceiling. “Twelve! I’m six feet and my hand doesn’t come close to that height.”
She stepped over to him and kissed his cheek. “We’ll be able to have a real Christmas tree...a huge one!”
The excitement in her eyes was contagious! He’d been trying to control his emotions, look objectively at the house but it was getting harder and harder to do that. “Wonder what it would cost to heat this place?”
Myra rolled her eyes and started off to the next area of the house. “Who cares? I’ll wear sweaters and long underwear! This place is gorgeous.”
He put his hands in his pockets and looked around the room, at the high windows. The sill under it had to be over a foot deep, set in the thick limestone. The woodwork was original and in pretty good condition.
“Barry! Quick! Come see this!”
He grinned at the excitement in her voice. She was usually pretty upbeat, but like him, for the last while she’d been concerned about money and the new baby. It was great to hear her happiness. Wait till I tell her about the money on top of this place!
He strode through the archway and into a big, country kitchen, dominated by a large window. It overlooked the backyard, where there was a small garden and a stately maple tree extending its now bare limbs to the sky. At the very back of the lot was a willow tree and even from where he stood, Barry could see a glimmer of water from a small pond. He saw tall fences surround the property. This place was an oasis.
Myra had again taken off on her explorations. She went to the room on the opposite side of the hallway from the dining room and Barry followed. She stopped as soon as she crossed the threshold. Her shoulders convulsed in a small shudder. “Brrr...why’s this room so cold?”
He’d felt it too, as soon as he entered. The temperature had to be at least ten degrees cooler than the other rooms. The hair on his arms and neck tingled and his gaze darted around for a moment or two. There was nothing that he could see, but the sense they weren’t alone, was strong.
Myra’s nose wrinkled. “I’m not crazy about this room.”
They stepped out of the room and the downbeat evaporated. Going to the staircase, he folded her into his arms again. A thought popped into his mind. “I want to name the baby after Stella.”
Her smile was coquettish when she stepped closer. “What if it’s a boy? Maybe Stella was wrong about it being a girl.”
“It’s a girl. Trust me.” He slid his hand over her body, resting it on her tummy.
Her nose wrinkled again. “But Stella? I’m not sure I like that name. How about Isabella? It’ sounds a little like Stella, don’t you think?”
‘Yes. I like that.’ It was a soft whisper in his head. The same Stella voice from the funeral. He’d had premonitions before, even answers to questions pop into his mind, but never actual vocalizations, words spoken in his head, until the last few days. And it had been Stella’s voice.
There was just the faintest of touches on the back of his neck, making him roll his shoulders and pull his head higher. It was a definite affirmation of her presence. She’d said she’d be around. It was becoming clear she’d never left...well, not entirely. His gaze darted around the room, looking for further sign of the woman, but there was only tiny dust particles in the air, highlighted by the soft light from the window.
His eyes met Myra’s. “Isabella it is. I like it.” He stepped back and took her hand, leading the way. “Let’s see the upstairs.”
Chapter 5
They had gone through the house to find it neat as a pin and pretty much move in ready. In the bedrooms upstairs, each bed was stripped and dust covers were set over the furniture. The linen closet though, was filled with laundered sheets, pillowcases, facecloths and towels.
All of the pots and pans in the kitchen, as well as the dishes and cutlery were spic and span.
“She knew she was dying,” said Barry, taking Myra’s hand as they went back towards the front of the house. “She cleaned the place out as best as she could for us.”
The amount of clutter was a minimum. The only place where they found piled belongings was along a breakfront in the living room out front. There were stacks of books, periodicals and papers piled high. There was a reading nook set up next to the fireplace in the room; a overstuffed armchair, reading lamp and small table were tucked cozily off to the side of the mantle.
“Looks like she missed something,” Myra said from the entranceway as Barry went back into the room. She pointed at the small tea service set on the table beside the chair.
As soon as he entered the room, Barry’s stomach rolled and the chill fused through him. He stepped over to the table and removed the cover from the teapot. “Well, there’s no mold or anything. I’ll bet this was one of the last places in the house she was in.” He couldn’t understand it. This room was the most uncomfortable in the house, but Stella seemed to set up shop here with all her books and papers.
“Hey, get a load of this,” he said, pointing to a object next to the entranceway. Myra leaned forward and craned her neck.
She chuckled. “Looks like something from Dora The Explorer.”
Barry stepped over to the huge globe set in a stand. It was almost three feet across and was mounted on an elaborate wooden stand. He peered at the surface. “This is an antique,” he said. “The countries outlined on the map go back before the first world war.” He gave it a spin. “Well, what’s up with this?”
“What?” asked Myra. “Tell me. I’m not setting foot in there if I can help it, Barry.” She looked up at the ceiling and back to her husband. “This room’s weird.”
“There’s a couple of lines painted on the surface. One’s white and the other’s black.” He spun the globe. “There’s a few others… but these two… hmmm…”
“What’s with the ‘hmmm… professor?”
He looked up. He’d be moving all these books and this globe over to the dining room or kitchen, for sure. His curiosity was going crazy. He rested a finger on the globe. “The black and white lines… they intersect right where Kingston w
ould show on the globe.”
****
The next day, Barry sat at the dining table in the old limestone house, surrounded on each side with books and papers. The first thing he did when he came in was move her stuff out of the living room and into the dining room. He’d tried sitting in Stella’s old chair in the living room where a the books were set out but somehow it didn’t feel right. The chair was comfortable enough but the room was cold and his stomach was a hard lump in his body. The feeling that he wasn’t alone in there had made his skin tighten and the hair on his arms prickle.
There was no law that said he had to work in there.
It would be a slog going through all of it but there was no way he wanted anything that might have been meaningful to Stella, or even now to him and Myra, going to a Goodwill store.
The previous night he and Myra decided that they would take up residency as soon as possible to get the clock ticking for the money and deed. She was at the apartment sorting through stuff for the big move. He had begged off so he could come back here alone and sort through Stella’s stuff.
He wussed out telling Myra about what Stella had said about the house in the video; they both had a laugh about how they’d have to feng shui the living room and he left it at that. A crappy front room in a house this huge was no big deal, right?
After a few trips to the dining room, his arms laden with the old books and papers, he was ready to begin. When he reached for the first book, it slipped from his grasp, almost as if his hand had been jostled. The heavy tome landed with a thud on the tiled floor. His eyes flickered to the right and left, but there was only himself in the large, bright room.
He took a deep breath and bent to pick it up but the cover of the book next in the tower caught his eye. It had a colourful picture of the earth, and was titled ‘Ley Lines and Places of Energy’. His eyes opened wide and for a moment it felt like his fingertips tingled.
‘Places of power...hallowed ground’, Stella’s words drifted through his mind. This was one that he’d need to read.
The Ghosts of Centre Street: A Haunting of Kingston (The Hauntings of Kingston Book 3) Page 3