Case of the Highland House Haunting

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Oh, holy hell,” Harry muttered. “I knew it!”

  Then we all heard it: a low moaning. Sherlock immediately fired off a warning woof. The tri-colored corgi then jumped down to the floor and trotted towards the foyer. After a few moments, he was back, only he was carrying something in his mouth.

  “What’s that?” Jillian nervously asked. “Sherlock, what are you holding?”

  “It looks like a phone,” Tori observed. “In fact, it looks like…” She trailed off as she turned to stare incredulously at her husband.

  “Umm, I can explain.”

  All heads turned to Vance, who now bore a sheepish, shit-eating grin on his face.

  “It was done in good fun, that’s all. Come on, Tor! It was just a harmless prank! I was just trying to lighten the situation.”

  “Someone died in here,” Tori quietly began. “Someone lost their life, Vance. You, of all people, should know that.”

  “Someone’s about to lose his,” Harry quipped.

  As for me? I was curious. How did Vance get his phone to play that noise from across the room? And at the right time?

  As if in answer to my question, Vance held up what had to be his newest toy: a smart watch. It was obviously linked to his phone.

  Tori scowled, “I never should have got you that watch for your birthday.”

  “In my defense, I do use it every single day,” Vance said, in as soothing of a tone I had ever heard come from him. “Granted, the timing was terrible, I see that now. But… I’ll just shut up now.”

  “Wise choice, mister,” Tori said. Her tone had gone icy and it had become painfully obvious that Vance had some damage control to do before he was fully out of the dog house.

  “As I was saying,” Jillian said, as she fought to keep a straight face, “I think we should split up into teams. There’s six of us, so that’ll give us three teams, one for each floor. Harry? Julie? You two take the second story. Tori? Vance? You two take the basement. Zachary and I will take the ground floor here.”

  “What do you want us to look for?” Tori asked. The tall redhead was still shooting daggers at her husband.

  “Anything out of the ordinary,” Jillian reported. “A bag full of scaffolding pins, or evidence of squatters, or evidence of animals that might have snuck in the house, or…”

  “…evidence of ectoplasm,” I interjected, drawing a smile from Vance.

  “That’s not even funny, man,” Harry complained.

  “Just keep telling yourself that there’s no such thing as ghosts,” I suggested.

  As if we were a football team, and had just broken a huddle, everyone moved off to their respective floors.

  “Harry is the one we should pull a prank on,” I softly murmured.

  My girlfriend turned to give me an unsettling look.

  “Are you telling me that you’d like to end up like Vance? Did you see how Tori was looking at him?”

  I passed Watson’s leash to Jillian and shook my head.

  “I saw that look. And no, I would never want to be on the receiving end of that, that’s for sure. Now, where would you like to start?”

  Jillian pointed back towards the foyer.

  “Let’s start at the beginning. Watson? Would you care to lead the way?”

  The small red and white corgi got to her feet, gave herself a vigorous shaking, and then – after glancing at Sherlock –trotted toward the front door. We inspected the front entrance, making certain to check for evidence of lock tampering. Ever since PV had been visited by a professional burglar armed with what was referred to as ‘bump keys’, which allowed an unauthorized person to gain entry to just about any residential house, I’ve paid particular attention to locks. This one, thank goodness, didn’t look as though it had been tampered with. Sure, it was old, and rusty, but it looked sturdy as hell. I’m sure with a bit of spit and polish, it’d clean up nicely.

  “Has it been picked?” Jillian asked, after a few minutes of silence had passed.

  I straightened.

  “Nope. At least, it doesn’t look like it.”

  “Good. Okay, we’ve seen the living room. Let’s go check on the dining room.”

  “Where’s that again?” I asked, as we headed back into the living room. I hesitated only long enough to snag another piece of pizza. Jillian was moving toward a doorway to the north. “Is that it?”

  The large double doors were pulled open.

  “Why are the doors so damn big?” I asked, confused. “I mean, look at those suckers. It has to be at least ten feet tall and each of those babies must weigh a ton.”

  “Piano nobile,” Jillian reminded me. “This villa has a larger than normal first floor. That’s why the windows and doors are so tall.”

  “Got it. Well, what do we have here? Not much to see in here. This must be one of the rooms that had a lot of problems. There’s no furniture in here.”

  Jillian nodded. She gestured at the eastern wall, which had been stripped down to the framing.

  “This room had more electrical problems than any of the others. I wish I knew what went on in here that caused so many problems.”

  “Fried the wiring, huh? Makes me wonder, too.”

  “I think you’ll like the kitchen,” Jillian told me, as we headed through the open doorway on the same wall.

  “I can see most of it already,” I chuckled, as I looked through the bare wall into the room next door. “Doesn’t look very big, though.”

  “That’s because what you’re looking at isn’t the kitchen. I think it’s the pantry.”

  “The pantry is located off the dining room? Why wouldn’t it be off the kitchen?”

  “It is located off the kitchen. It’s a pass-through pantry.”

  “Weird,” I decided.

  Jillian shook her head, “Not if you think about it. This place was large. There would have been servants. They walked through the pantry to deliver food there, in the dining room. Otherwise, they’d have to go back out, through Staircase Hall, through the living room, and then into the dining room.”

  “Hey, if it works, it works.”

  “Since this is going to be a bed and breakfast, I think I’ll leave that as it is.”

  As we walked through the extensive kitchen, Jillian began detailing her plans on what she was going to do.

  “Brand new appliances,” she was saying. “Sub-zero fridge, six-burner stove, and a double wall oven. They’ll go along this wall, here. Oh, and right here? I’m going to have a large island installed, complete with sink, and maybe a couple of wine coolers.”

  I nodded, “Nice touch. I’d even make the island include a breakfast bar. It’d be a nice, informal place to grab a bite to eat.”

  Jillian nodded, opened the notebook she was still holding, and jotted my idea down.

  “Did you see that this keeps going through here?” I asked, as I stepped through a doorway on the eastern side of the kitchen. “Now, what would you call this area? Ordinarily, I’d call it a pantry, but good grief. There’s a window in here. This place doesn’t have a second pantry, does it?”

  Jillian thought for a moment and then shook her head, sending her long, curly brown hair tumbling about.

  “Do you know what I think it is? I’ll bet it’s a ‘servants only’ area. There’s enough room here for a normal dining table, with space for six chairs, I’d say.”

  “Like a break room for the servants,” I decided.

  “Exactly.”

  “This place is something else,” I observed, with a smile.

  “Do you like it?” Jillian hopefully asked.

  “I do. I can’t wait to see what you’re going to do with it.”

  We explored the rest of the ground floor, but didn’t find anything that looked as though it didn’t belong. No missing locking pins for the scaffolding, no signs of wild animals, and certainly no signs of squatters. Then again, if squatters were hiding in this house, evidence would more than likely be found in one of the many rooms upstairs. />
  And, as long as we’re talking about looking for evidence, no, I didn’t find anything that suggested ghosts. I was kind of expecting to find maybe some hidden trip wires, or maybe a concealed speaker or two. However, the only thing I found was dust. Lots and lots of dust.

  “Let me ask you something,” I said, after a few minutes of silence had passed. “What did you do with all the existing furniture? I take it you moved it all out of the way?”

  “Yes. It’s all in storage. I rented the largest unit they could give me. I’ve also told them to let me know when any other large units become available. Something tells me that I’ll be needing at least one or two more of the units before this is all over.”

  I looked down at Sherlock. He was currently sitting on his butt and looking extremely content. A quick glance at Watson showed that she, too, seemed to be okay with this place. Neither of the dogs were showing any types of anxiety.

  Jillian saw me looking at the dogs and squatted down next to Watson. She began caressing her silky red and white fur, which earned her several soft licks from its owner.

  “I wonder if the others have found anything,” Jillian said, as her hand moved to Watson’s belly. The timid little corgi immediately rolled onto her back for better access. “How much longer should we give them?”

  I shrugged, “Good question. I don’t hear anything up there. For that matter, I don’t hear anything below us, either. They certainly built these houses to last back then, didn’t they?”

  “That they did. Come on, Zachary. Let’s go upstairs.”

  Both dogs were on their feet in a flash. I was practically yanked up the stairs as Sherlock raced up the curved wooden staircase. Jillian, holding Watson’s leash, calmly took the stairs as though they were savoring each step. It was actually a good thing. I had managed to reclaim most of my breath by the time the two of them joined us on the second floor.

  “Did you enjoy that sprint up the stairs?” Jillian wryly asked.

  I shot a dark look at Sherlock before turning to my girlfriend.

  “Not really. I think I pulled something by the seventh or eighth step.”

  “You silly man,” Jillian teased. “Hmm, which way should we go?”

  We were standing in a second Staircase Hall. Hallways and doors were everywhere, in all directions. My natural instincts told me I should go right, which is why I flat-out ignored them. Anyone who knows me will know I have the worst sense of direction.

  “Do you hear anything?” I asked.

  Jillian shook her head, but before she could say anything, both corgis turned left and pulled us through open double doors.

  “I think this is the master bedroom,” Jillian told me, as we stepped inside the large chamber. She pointed at the door directly ahead of us. “I absolutely love the terraces that these villas have. It’s like this room has its own little patio. Isn’t it gorgeous?”

  Victorian Italianate villas, which is what this house happened to be, were known for having a nice, long list of things I’ve never heard of. Allow me to name just a few, to prove my point. There were corbels, which were mentioned earlier. They are, by definition, a structural piece of stone, wood, or metal which juts from a wall to carry a ‘superincumbent weight’. For the record, this house has a number of them.

  Next, we have pedimented windows with architraves and archivolts. What that means is, you’ll find a beam resting on the tops of columns. As for archivolts? Well, if you look at the top portion of this house, you’ll find a decorative molding or band following the curves on the underside of every single arch, of which there are many.

  And last, but certainly not least, there are something called ‘quoins’. While Jillian was explaining this one to me, I had to quietly look it up on my phone. I had no idea she knew so much about architecture. Quoins are those masonry blocks you see at the corner of a wall. Some provide structural support, and others are just there for aesthetic purposes. And yes, before you ask, or can wonder about it, this house had those, too.

  Thank you, Wikipedia.

  “I can see why you want to keep everything original,” I told Jillian, as I strode over to a large, angled bay window. I opened the door and stepped out onto the small terrace. “This place has a great view. Look, you’ve got mountains on the left, forest straight ahead, and I think I can see part of Rascal River on the right.”

  “You’re right,” Jillian confirmed, as she joined me outside.

  I heard a collar rattle and I immediately looked down at the leashes we were still holding. Both dogs were waiting for us inside the room, and both, I might add, were focused on something else entirely. Curious to see what had captured their attention, I headed back inside.

  In the middle of the room was an antique four poster bed. Sure, it had seen better days, but if I knew my girlfriend, she had every intention on restoring it. On either side of the giant bed were two small end tables. Sherlock was sniffing around the one on the right.

  “Is there something in there, pal?” I asked him.

  Sherlock snorted and waited while I rifled through the contents of the two drawers. Nope. Nothing there. Well, there were little bits of junk and trash, but nothing significant. Sherlock, however, was still staring at the small piece of furniture, so I dropped to all fours and peered under it. Still nothing.

  “I don’t know what you smell, but there isn’t anything here,” I told the inquisitive corgi.

  Both of the dogs looked east. My eyebrows shot up with surprise. Encompassing the entire eastern wall was what looked like a large, wooden carving. Stretching from floor to ceiling, it contained a wide variety of different pictures. I saw a castle, trees, and so on.

  “That must’ve taken a long time to carve,” I decided.

  “It’s a bas-relief!” Jillian exclaimed. She looked at my vacant expression and smiled. “It’s a relief sculpture. It means the figures and objects are slightly higher than the background. Look at the size of it! I may not split this room in two after all. If I did, then that carving would have to go. It’d just be too dark. But, left alone, there’s plenty of light. That alone is worth keeping this room as it is.”

  Both dogs wandered over to the giant carving, sniffed it a few times, and then looked up at me. I gave the leashes a gentle tug, indicating we had more to explore. The corgis snorted, resisted, and when it became clear we weren’t staying at the carving to further study it, headed toward the opposite end of the room. Sherlock and Watson then looked north, at one of two doors facing us. Giving the corgi some extra slack, Sherlock pulled me over to the door on the right. I looked in and saw that it was a closet. At first glance, it looked deceptively small. That is, until you noticed the closet made a hard left turn and continued on. I don’t think I had ever been in a closet in the shape of an ‘L’ before.

  “You’ve got some storage space in here,” I observed. “This must be what you were referring to when you suggested you could split the master bedroom up into two smaller bedrooms, right?”

  Jillian nodded, “Right. I just don’t think it’ll happen now.”

  “Wow. Check out the duds. Think any of these can be saved?”

  We were looking at a rack of long, ornate gowns. Then, on the rack next to it was another assortment of dresses, only they were clearly from another time. These were shorter, low-waisted dresses that looked as though they’d be revealing a lot of skin.

  We were looking at Dame Highland’s personal wardrobe.

  As I flipped through the skimpy attire, I started to imagine what life must have been like back in the Roaring Twenties. Women exhibited their independence by listening to jazz music. They wore short skirts, bobbed their hair, and flaunted their disdain of anything that was considered socially acceptable.

  “I cannot wait to go through these,” Jillian said, as she smiled at me.

  Just then, we heard a noise coming from back outside the room. Pulling the dogs away from the closet, we headed to the second Staircase Hall. Harry and Julie were just coming out of
a door on the far southeastern corner of the hall.

  “Hi, guys!” Julie cheerfully said, as she caught sight of us. “Find anything on the ground floor?”

  “Nothing too remarkable,” I reported. “How about you? What was in there?”

  “It’s just another room, man,” Harry told us. “This house is huge. Personally, I don’t see how people are going to get any sleep in here. This house creaks and groans all the damn time. It’d keep me awake at night, that’s for sure.”

  “This house is old,” I reminded Harry. “A little creaking and groaning is to be expected.”

  “Whatever, man. No offense, Jillian, but you won’t catch me staying here. Ever.”

  “That’s okay, Harry,” Jillian said, keeping her face remarkably smile-free. “Staying at a B&B isn’t for everyone. Have you checked all the doors yet?”

  “Every time we go through a door, we find another room,” Julie explained.

  “How many have you checked so far?” Jillian wanted to know.

  “This one makes five,” Julie answered.

  Jillian nodded, “Then that means there should be only one more. We were just in that one over there.”

  “The master bedroom,” Julie said, nodding. “I liked that room. I loved the clothes in the closet. Have you seen it yet? I know you’ll love it. And speaking about love, I love that little patio in there.”

  “Isn’t it cute?” Jillian gushed.

  While the two women compared notes, Harry sidled closer to me.

  “Tell me your honest opinion,” Harry said. “What’s your take on this place, man? Do you like it?”

  I sighed and looked around the second story. I could very easily see this place bustling with paying customers. Jillian was sitting on a veritable gold mine.

  “I think Jillian is one savvy businesswoman,” I answered. “This place is gonna do amazingly well.”

  “No, not that. The ghost, man. Have you seen anything from her yet?”