Her hand started to shake again. She set her mug down and took a deep breath, staring at a place in the middle of the table.
“I reached that spot where a person comes out of the stock room, just behind the sales counter. Looked toward the front of the shop. A man stood there, clear as day. I shouted ‘Hey!’ wanting to scare him away from my yarns.”
She looked up and locked eye contact with me. “He let out a long moan, then it was as if he turned to smoke. A dark wisp, gone.”
I have to admit that a chill passed through me at the intensity in her eyes.
“When you saw him clearly,” I asked, “what did he look like? How tall? What was he wearing?”
She closed her eyes for a second, remembering. “It was dark. His silhouette was framed against the light outside the windows, though. He stood a bit shorter than me, but not much. He wasn’t a young lad. It was a grown man. His clothing seemed old fashioned somehow. A cap, and a coat that went almost to his knees.”
“How long did you see him like that? Minutes? Seconds?”
“A few seconds at most. The moment I shouted out at him was when he disappeared.” She clasped her hands together, as if they would hold each other still. “The thing that frustrates me most is that Arch doesn’t believe me. I know what I saw.”
I had no idea what to make of the information. Her description didn’t exactly match anything I’d read or heard about other ghosts around town. It certainly wasn’t the Brown Monk or the Grey Lady. I reached out and patted her hand.
“I’d best get dressed and see to the shop,” she said. She stood up and carried her mug to the sink.
I told her I would talk to her later. The few scraps of local lore I’d discovered this morning didn’t exactly shed any light on this new event.
Down in the shop, Gabrielle handed Archie a heavy carton and he began heading toward the stock room with it. I raised my eyebrows and he paused.
“My opinion?” he whispered. “We watched an old movie last night, black and white, with lots of foggy Victorian scenes. I think she had a dream about it and then walked in her sleep.”
He kept moving toward the stock room and I said a quick goodbye, then left.
Maybe Archie was right. My own inclination, had I been in the situation, would have been to believe I’d been dreaming but Dolly was obviously convinced that this had really happened. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to think.
A short beep-beep grabbed my attention and I realized I’d stepped off the curb and almost into a tiny car’s path. I gave an embarrassed wave to the driver as I moved out of his way.
One of my primary tenets of life is that when things get confusing one should give oneself a treat. I spotted an ice cream shop near the Angel Hotel and popped right in there. On the wall a chalkboard menu listed a bunch of items by names I’d never heard of.
“What’s the Knickerbocker Glory?” I asked the teen girl behind the counter.
She held up a tall sundae glass. “We put some fresh fruit in the bottom of this—cherries, peaches, strawberries, kiwi, blackberries and raspberries. Then it’s strawberry, vanilla and chocolate ice cream, a scoop of each. Then chocolate sauce, strawberry sauce, whipped cream and a cherry on top. Oh, and it’s served with a wafer.” She added the mention of the wafer as if I might not be quite satisfied by all the rest.
I felt myself salivating but remembered that Louisa had said to save room for a good dinner. I settled for a small ice cream bar on a stick, making note that I must come back before the end of my stay and have that other glorious concoction.
Despite my little snack I found my energy lagging as I walked up Abbeygate Street. A short rest might help renew me and put all the information I’d learned in some kind of order. I let myself into Louisa’s house and settled on my bed with the book of haunted places she’d given me last night.
I must have dozed off within minutes of opening the book because the next thing I knew my eyes flew open when I heard a sound downstairs. Not quite sure whether I’d dreamed it or not, I got up to check out the noise. There at the foot of the stairs stood a semi-transparent figure—a young boy in old fashioned clothing.
Chapter 10
“Charlie! Charlie, wake up!” Louisa shook me gently.
I rolled away from the hand on my shoulder and felt the firm binding of the book against my ribs. My heart pounded.
“You must have had quite a bad dream,” she said. “You gave out a little shriek.”
I shook off the cobwebs of sleep, working to get my eyes focused and my heart to slow down as I stood.
“I came home about an hour ago,” she said. “You were sleeping so I tried to be quiet.”
“Too much input,” I joked. I repeated Dolly’s story of the vision she’d had in the night. “Obviously my brain incorporated all of it—the stories from this book and pictures I saw at the museum, along with her mysterious visitor.”
She eyed me skeptically.
“Obviously, Archie’s comment that Dolly had dreamed the whole thing stuck with me, and I proceeded to dream it myself.”
She couldn’t very well argue in favor of there really being a supernatural explanation this time. She’d been home and knew that I had not started down the stairs nor had I seen any ghostly person there.
“What time is it?” I asked, noticing that the room was in deep shadow. “Could we declare it happy hour yet?”
“Shall we head for the Fox Inn and have our drinks there?”
I washed my face and brushed my hair then carried the book down to place it back on the shelf in the parlor. Enough of the haunted places research for awhile.
“It’s close to a mile each direction,” she said as we put on our jackets. “We could take the car if you’d rather not do that much walking.”
“The walk will be good for me. Have to shake off the weirdness of that dream.”
Softly glowing street lamps gave the street a peaceful ambiance. We cut through the main shopping district where all the stores were now closed and the pedestrian walkways deserted and quiet.
“I love this part of town after dark,” Louisa said. “It’s so much hustle-bustle during the day but I have the whole place to myself in the evenings.”
I agreed that it felt entirely different now. Brightly lit restaurants were filled, obviously the places where many of those pedestrians retired at dinner time. We came to the Fox Inn much more quickly than I expected and were ushered into a nice dining room with heavy wood paneling, high ceilings and white tablecloths.
“How was your day, aside from trying to figure out what disturbed Dolly’s sleep?” she asked, once we’d ordered glasses of wine. When it arrived we drank a little toast to staying sane.
“Well, I visited the museum and the newspaper, as you’d suggested. Did you know that the Trahorn Building where Dolly’s shop stands was once a slaughter house and butcher shop? In later years it was a bicycle shop.” At her smile, I realized what a silly question that was for a local person. “Of course you knew it, didn’t you?”
“I’d actually forgotten. My research focused on the high points that would interest tourists. I could probably stand to go back to my books for a refresher on a lot of the other history.”
Our server approached to tell us that the special was a lovely portion of prime rib, served with potatoes and vegetables. Somehow I couldn’t bring myself to have it, still thinking of the knit shop being haunted by the spirits of all those dead cows. Silly, I know, but I ordered the chicken instead.
“All right,” Louisa said once we’d received our starters. “Let’s say Dolly really did dream the vision of the man in her shop last night. She obviously didn’t dream that her yarns were all scrambled or that the tea scalded her hand. What do you suppose happened on those occasions?”
“The thought came to me that someone is trying to scare her into moving out of the building. But how are they doing it, and why? I have to figure that out.”
“The thrift shop folks moved quite s
uddenly as well. It could be the same thing.”
“I checked on that. The manager told me that they’d received an offer of free rent in their new location. That’s the reason they moved, pure and simple.”
She pursed her mouth and pushed away her plate. I was still working on my mushroom caps but a new idea occurred to me.
“On the chance that someone may be coming back to look for something, I explored the cellar of Dolly’s shop yesterday. I found evidence of digging in the dirt under the stone flooring. She thought Archie had called a plumber awhile back. But what if he didn’t? She could be mistaken and someone else left the flooring in a mess.”
“Oh, my! A buried treasure or something? How exciting!”
“A bricked-up section of wall was another unusual thing,” I said. “When I asked about that she said there used to be a series of tunnels under the town. She assumed the doorway was part of that.”
Our entrées arrived then and I could tell that Louisa could hardly wait for our server to leave again.
“The part about the tunnels is true. The river flooded some and the town council voted to fill them in.” Her eyes grew bright. “But all that happened quite a way from Dolly’s part of town. I seriously doubt her shop was part of the network.”
“So what would that bricked-up doorway lead to?”
“What, indeed,” she mused.
I cut into my chicken breast. It was incredibly tender and the sauce was perfect.
“Charlie, I think we should offer to stay the night in the shop and see if we can catch the ghost!”
“What?”
“Something or someone is trying to frighten Dolly away. Maybe we can frighten them away instead. It would save her business.” With her blond curls and those bright blue eyes she looked like a kid on Christmas Eve.
“I don’t know . . .”
“If we caught someone in the act we’d call the police, immediately.”
And if we found something valuable down there . . . well, I have to admit to being a sucker for a good treasure hunt. Having devoured all those stories as a kid, a momentary vision of a chest of gold coins or a big pile of jewelry popped into my head.
“We might at least get a look at whoever’s coming into the shop and messing things up,” I said, practicality taking over again. “If we could stop them it would mean peace of mind for Dolly.”
And I could continue my relaxing vacation instead of feeling like I was working. I wouldn’t complain about that.
“I’ll call Dolly the minute we get home tonight,” she said.
We shared a slice of cheesecake and I picked up the check.
* * *
Wednesday afternoon found Louisa and me rummaging through the closet-sized garden shed at the back of her house. She’d spoken to Dolly and our offer to stay the night in the shop had been eagerly accepted. I got the feeling that Dolly would love to hand the whole mess over to anyone, rather than deal with it herself.
“Here’s a decent spade,” Louisa said, handing the short-handled implement out to me. “Hold on, I think I have another.”
I took each tool and set it on the ground. I had my doubts about the whole venture but Louisa had talked a volunteer into taking half of her shift at the office so she could prepare.
We’d decided that taking a few tools along would be smart. I wanted to dig around in that loose earth, just to see if there was more to the story than a simple water leak. And of course Louisa was convinced that a pry-bar would get us through the brick wall and into the realm of the unknown parts of Bury St. Edmonds. She handed one over her shoulder and I took it.
“What about a pail? It could come in handy.” She backed out of the small doorway and added a plastic bucket to the growing collection. “There. That should handle things, don’t you think?”
We put the bucket and tools into the back of her car.
“We’ll park around the corner,” she explained, “so the ghost won’t see it and realize we’re keeping watch.”
Uh-huh. I kind of didn’t think that was going to be a consideration, but we could do it that way.
Louisa had her practical side, too. At her suggestion we closed our bedroom drapes and took long naps to prepare for staying awake all night. My nap was fitful so I got up and tried phoning Drake, thinking I might catch him before he left for the airport and his helicopter job, but there was no answer on the home phone. His cell went immediately to voicemail, which probably meant he was airborne already and had it switched off. I left a longing-filled message to let him know how much I missed him and how frustrating it was to be on separate continents with all those time zones between us.
Louisa picked up a tote bag and suggested we stop by the market stalls for food.
Although we’d missed the prime morning hours, there were still plenty of goodies to be found. While I gawked at the variety on offer—everything from tulip bulbs to gourmet dog food to books and winter jackets—Louisa gathered bread, cheese, fruit and cookies to go along with the tea she’d packed into a thermos. We would have no excuse for leaving our post.
When The Knit and Purl closed at five o’clock we were watching from the corner. Gabrielle emerged, swinging her purse by its strap as her bouncy steps carried her down the block. I wondered where she lived—was it within walking distance? Or perhaps she rode the bus from another part of town.
Dolly signaled to us and we grabbed our tools and ducked inside. She pulled a shade over the door and locked up. The room went eerily silent when she turned off the background music.
“Arch and I aren’t planning on going anywhere tonight but if we change our minds, I’ll be sure we use the other door, the one directly to the apartment.”
“Is that one locked now?” I asked. No point in guarding the shop if someone could simply get up to the apartment by another means.
She assured me that it was.
I glanced toward the shop-front windows.
“Those remain uncovered at night. And there’s a small lamp which stays lit.” She indicated the one.
I could see how an intruder wouldn’t necessarily be afraid of being seen. The light might have been all of four watts, barely the size of a Christmas bulb, and the lampshade was a dark parchment color.
“I’m afraid there’s no comfortable furniture in here, only my desk chair,” Dolly was saying. “But feel free to borrow others from the cellar. Bring something up if you’d like.”
“We thought we might spend some time down there anyway,” I said with a nod toward the tools. “Checking out that freshly dug spot and all.”
She nodded. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it.”
We were standing in the stockroom at the back of the shop and she turned to head toward the stairs leading up to their apartment. “I’ve not told Archie about your being here tonight,” she said. “Didn’t really seem his concern, you know.”
“Does that mean we have to stay silent all night?” I asked. “I mean, I wouldn’t want him to hear a sound and come down with a pistol aimed at me.”
She laughed softly. “That’s not a problem. For one, he doesn’t own a pistol. And he’s half deaf once he takes off his hearing aids at night. Once the telly goes on, he’d not hear a bomb down here.”
That was only faintly reassuring.
We bade her goodnight and heard her reach the top landing, go into the apartment, and lock the upper door behind her. The deadbolt had a distinct squeal and I felt sure we would hear Archie coming well before he heard us.
I turned to Louisa. Her eyes were eager, her mouth fixed in an impish grin.
“Well then, shall we settle in?” she asked.
I stood in the doorway between stockroom and shop for a moment, getting the feel of the after-dark place, memorizing the shapes of shelving and merchandise, fixing the images in my mind so I could tell at a glance if anything was later out of place.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said.
Since it was doubtful that the intruder—human or ghostly�
��would put in an appearance in the early evening hours, we’d already decided to spend our time in the cellar first. Plus, as Dolly had now mentioned, the sounds of the television upstairs would mask any of our noises as far as Archie was concerned. I still wasn’t clear on exactly why she wouldn’t simply tell him we were here, but that was her choice.
Louisa took the long-handled shovel, while I picked up the bucket that held all the smaller tools. The cellar looked no different at night than it had when I’d seen it midday, but that was no surprise. I showed Louisa the two odd places I’d discovered.
“I’ll have a go at the brick wall,” she said, reaching into the bucket for the pry-bar and a hammer.
That left me with that enticing patch of loose earth so I took up the short garden spade.
A few taps at the wall and Louisa was already becoming discouraged. “This thing feels solid as a mountain.”
I’d barely turned two shovels of dirt but I set it aside and walked over to where she stood. Even though I’d told her that the bricks looked pretty solid, she’d apparently believed that she would just stick the pry-bar in and start pulling them away.
“Did you knock around on it and listen for hollow places?” I asked.
She took up the hammer and proceeded to hit at the bricks, lightly at first then a bit harder. Each tap brought back only a solid snick. No enticing reverberation at all.
“Do you want me to try it, or just keep going?”
“Oh, I’ll keep going for a bit. It could be along here somewhere . . .” She kept up the tapping.
For good measure I climbed the stairs to the shop level and then on to the apartment above. Television music from some type of action-adventure show blared loudly enough to reassure me that Archie couldn’t possibly hear the little tink-tink of our futile mining efforts below.
Back in the cellar again I took up my spade and began to lift shovels-full of dirt into the plastic bucket. The earth on top was loose, almost crumbly, which fit with what Dolly had told me about the recent workman’s visit. The puzzling thing was that I didn’t see any water pipes or much dampness. Perhaps they’d started this as a test hole and discovered that they really needed to be working elsewhere. I kept going until I’d reached a depth of about six inches spanning the entire two-foot square opening. The small plastic garden bucket had long since filled up and I’d begun piling the shoveled dirt onto the stone flooring beside the hole.
Phantoms Can Be Murder: Charlie Parker Mystery #13 Page 8