A Spot of Bother

by Magenta Wilde

  “You can admire the statue any time,” Zelda chastised. “They’re not what I’m showing you. Come around toward the side here.”

  We did as told, and Zelda clicked on a flashlight and aimed the beam at the ground.

  I was expecting to see a bit of frozen dirt, perhaps a few crumpled leaves, but a hint of blue caught my eyes. I leaned in for a closer look. “Are those forget-me-nots?”

  Zelda nodded.

  I drew nearer, eyeing the flowers. In the cold, with the wind blustering about, they seemed to be shivering as much from the chill as from the gusts. I reached out a finger to touch the dainty blooms. There was a bit of an aura around them, not a visible one, but one I could feel. The atmosphere around the flowers seemed charged and shimmering, and almost crackling with energy, like what you’d feel if you hovered your hands over an old TV. I jerked my finger back. “They’re warm, almost hot,” I said.

  Emily bowed down and peered at the blooms, waving her hand around them. “They’ve got quite a kick of energy,” she said. “Can any old body see them?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zelda said. “It’s in such a spot that a lot of people won’t look, even on a good day.”

  “Plus in the winter you won’t get many people stopping along here,” I mused. “Most everyone will want to rush into the courthouse and get out of the elements. Any other time of the year, you could almost blame it on some weird global warming fluke.”

  “True,” Emily agreed.

  “So what are they?” I asked. “Why are they here?”

  Zelda motioned us to follow her once again. This time she led us closer to the ornate building, near a cluster of lilac bushes that bloomed abundantly each spring.

  There, she trained the flashlight next to the base of the largest bush, and again we found several clusters of forget-me-nots. Reaching my hand out to those, they almost crackled with their own heat as well. I shut my eyes for a moment and picked up a warm spring breeze, heavily perfumed with lilacs.

  “Catching anything with your psychic sniffer?” Emily asked.

  I nodded and told her.

  “I’m not picking that up,” she said. “Rather, I’m getting kind of a picnic vibe here, like someone ate fresh bread and cheese here. Plums, too.”

  I inhaled more deeply and suddenly I did pick up the scent of bread and fruit, but the wind kicked up and took it away, almost like someone was blowing a candle out, but instead of light, they cast out the aromas that lingered.

  Zelda motioned for us to continue, heading back down the walkway and to the east in the direction of the small cemetery.

  It was surrounded by a tall wrought-iron fence, and Zelda unlatched the gate and directed us inside. “Go straight ahead and over to that willow toward the left. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  We did as instructed, stopping here and there to eye old headstones. Several dated back to the eighteenth century, and not many of those were of long-lived individuals.

  “Look, a baby,” Emily sighed. “Only lived a year. And there’s another one, same family name, but this kid made it to age four.” She shook her head. “Oh, and that one here, the baby only made it a week.”

  “Look at the one next to it,” I instructed. “I wonder if it was the mother of the three babies, since it’s the same last name, and she died the same year as the infant.”

  “Yes, they’re all the same family,” Zelda said, catching up to us. “The husband remarried not long after that — his tombstone is here — and to the left of him is his second wife and their five children. Three of those babies grew to adulthood, though only one to old age.”

  “We’ve come a long way with medicine and vaccinations and sterilizing medical equipment, haven’t we,” I tsked.

  “Thank the good Lord for that,” Emily agreed.

  Zelda strode toward the willow tree she’d mentioned previously and stood by a stone bench as she waited for us to catch up.

  As we approached she aimed the flashlight around the base. There were more blue flowers, both at the base of the bench and by the tree. They were more plentiful here and I could see them from several feet away.

  I came to a halt as two figures shimmered into view on the bench. It looked like the young woman from the locket and the drawing we’d found, and the young man from the locket — and from the river, thankfully not dead and bloated — seated and deep in conversation with one another. A pink aura glowed around them. I stood and watched their activity for a moment. I wondered if they’d notice me and try to speak, but the vision flickered and faded.

  “You saw them,” Zelda said.

  “Saw who?” Emily asked. “Were there ghosts here?”

  “Sort of,” I said. “They were more of an imprint rather than the real ghosts, weren’t they?”

  Zelda nodded. “Yes. I think this moment they shared here a century or so back was so significant that it left an impression. It wavers, but those with a touch of the sight can often catch a glimpse.”

  “Who are they?” I asked. “You said you knew.”

  “The young woman is my grandmother,” Zelda said. “Cora Parker, later Chapman.”

  “Oh,” I said, mulling the name in my head. “Oh. So she married the Chapman who owned the building on Ashmun?”

  Zelda nodded.

  “But this is Ernest — or was Ernest — under the tree with her. I’m guessing he’s not a Chapman.”

  “Most definitely not,” Zelda agreed.

  “So this leads me to believe that we have a love story that didn’t have a fairy tale ending,” Emily surmised.

  “You would be correct.”

  The young lovers flickered into view again. “They’re back,” I told Emily.

  She leaned in slightly and focused. “I see a bit of shimmering, and a pink haze sort of shaped like two bodies. Is she on the right?”

  I nodded.

  She continued to look. “It’s becoming clearer to me; I can make out a bit more. Not super clearly, but it’s apparent there’s a man and woman there. Oh wait, they’re fading, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, they’re gone now,” Zelda said. “Let’s go. I’ve got a couple more spots to show you, and then we’ll probably want to quit for the night, considering the chill.”

  I made a move to follow but something caught the corner of my eye. There, just outside the fence, I spied a shadow of a woman looking inside. In the dark she was difficult to make out, but she looked like she was wearing a long coat and a big floppy hat.

  “We’re just passing through,” I said.

  She didn’t acknowledge my words, instead staring in the direction of where Cora and Ernest had sat.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  I turned and found Emily and Zelda calling to me from several feet away. I craned my neck and pointed in the direction of the mystery woman, but she was gone.

  I shook my head and walked toward my two companions. “It was nothing. Someone was walking past is all.”

  “Hope he or she was bundled up warm,” Emily muttered. Zelda looked over her shoulder a couple times in the area of the bench.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked.

  “Not any longer. Let’s get this show on the road. It’s colder than a witch’s teat.”

  I cupped one of my breasts in response. “Nah, I think they’re warmer than that.”

  Emily chuckled. “Smart ass.”

  We followed Zelda a couple short blocks north, toward the St. Mary’s River. It took me a moment to realize that she was leading us near Ash’s rental, close to where I saw the young man leap into the water.

  “I have a feeling I know what happened here,” I said.

  “And what would that be?” Emily asked.

  Zelda simply watched me with a pointed gaze, waiting for me to go on.

  “Ernest took his life here,” I began. “Right? He threw himself into the river and drowned?”

  Zelda nodded. “Yes, he drowned. And yes, he and Cora courted,” she said, leading us west and
out of the park. Soon we stood near Ash’s house. I looked up to the window I had peered out of a few nights prior, and there stood the ghastly form of Ernest. I exhaled sharply in surprise. In response Emily and Zelda gazed to where I had just been looking.

  “Oh, my,” Zelda said. “No wonder you knew he’d drowned.”

  “All I can see is a bit of man-shaped haze,” Emily said. “Am I to believe that some of the details are eluding my vision?”

  “Most definitely,” Zelda uttered. “Oh God, he looks bad, even from this distance.”

  Emily was squinting, trying to get a better look, when the front door to Ash’s place opened and there stood Jordan.

  “What are you ladies doing out here? Trying to freeze to death?”

  Ash stepped into view, by Jordan’s shoulder. “Come on in, ladies. I’ve just mixed up a pitcher of sidecars. Come inside and warm up.”

  “Well, you don’t have to tell me twice,” Zelda said, stamping her feet for warmth a few times before striding in the direction of the invite. “I’ve always wanted to see the Parker house. And cognac only sweetens the deal!”

  Emily and I followed, though I darted my eyes in the direction of the upstairs window where I had just spied the specter.

  Emily, sensing my hesitation, turned to me. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  “Not quite,” I said. “It just gave me the willies. His ghost is a bit more gruesome-looking than what I normally see.”

  “That would be disconcerting,” she agreed. “If he gives you grief, threaten him with something Fiona-esque. That’ll set him in line.”

  “I’d say you’re shitting me with that suggestion, but my dad’s ghost has admitted he’s a bit scared of Mom. I bet she could inflict all kinds of misery on gruesome-looking ghosts.”

  “I’d be disappointed if she couldn’t.”

  “So would she. So would she.”

  23

  A few moments later we all had shrugged out of our coats and slid out of our boots and were standing near the fireplace. Ash added a few logs and we happily absorbed the heat as we sipped from martini glasses.

  “These are marvelous,” Zelda said, holding up the glass and admiring the amber liquid within. “You have fantastic taste. In both glassware and cocktails.”

  “Thank you,” Ash replied, his golden eyes serene. “I always did love a good cocktail. Now tell me, what on earth are you ladies doing wandering around in this cold?”

  Zelda explained the ghost tour.

  “And this was to be the last stop?” Jordan asked.

  “I have one more stop in mind,” Zelda said.

  “Scott’s pub,” I said.

  Zelda nodded.

  “And why is this a stop,” Emily asked. “Wait, you mentioned a Cora Parker and this is the Parker house. Did she live here?”

  “No,” Zelda said. “My grandmother didn’t live here, but her cousins did. They were sort of the black sheep in the family, not as well-to-do as my great-grandfather. Or, rather, they achieved black sheep status when they came on some hard times and, to help make ends meet, they began to rent out some of the upstairs rooms.”

  “So did Cora come here a lot or something?” Jordan asked.

  “For a while, yes,” Zelda replied. “She told me she was visiting a cousin, Elizabeth — she was closer to her than her own sister — and ended up making the acquaintance of several of the new boarders. One was a young woman who worked as a shopkeep — her name was Olivia, or Livvy, I believe — and they became friendly, too. They’d often play cards or embroider together, go walking in the park, things like that. My grandmother said her father and mother weren’t exactly thrilled about her associating with a couple girls down the social ladder, but they tolerated it. Then one day, a young man moved in.”

  “Ernest,” I said.

  “Yes, Ernest. And to hear my grandmother tell it,” Zelda continued, “it was love at first sight. Soon grandma visited even more often — often using the excuse of seeing her cousin Elizabeth or her new friend Livvy — when she really was just slipping away with Ernest.”

  “I’m going to guess your grandmother’s parents weren’t too thrilled when they found out,” I said.

  “You got that right,” Zelda drawled. “They picnicked and frolicked all over town, trying to fly under the radar.”

  “And wherever forget-me-nots sprouted up is something significant to them,” Emily said.

  “Exactly.”

  “So are they both buried in the cemetery?” I asked. “I saw the Cora Chapman grave there, but nothing for an Ernest Sloane.”

  “Wait, they never married?” Jordan looked distraught. “Or did he die, like, of tuberculosis or something … one of those diseases they died of way back when, and then she married some other guy named Chapman?”

  “No, they never married,” Zelda sighed. “They had plans to elope, make a go of it, but my great-grandfather found out and sent my grandmother away until he got things sorted out.”

  “How did he find out?” Jordan asked. He was literally on the edge of the chaise lounge he’d seated himself at, his eyes hungry for more of the sad story.

  “My grandmother was never sure,” Zelda said. “She thought maybe her cousin had told. Maybe someone spied them in town. They occasionally picnicked in the cemetery by the old willow tree, so there’s a chance someone saw them there.”

  “Did Ernest try and find her?” Emily asked.

  “I honestly don’t know,” Zelda said. “My grandmother was sent away for a few months, out east to visit distant relatives, and when she came back, Ernest was gone.”

  “Gone? Gone how?” Jordan asked.

  “Poppy already knows,” Zelda said.

  “He died,” I said.

  “Yes, he died.”

  “Drowning.”

  Zelda nodded.

  “How do you know that?” Jordan asked.

  “I’ve seen his ghost.”

  “Where?”

  “By the river,” I said. “But also here.” I motioned upstairs.

  “Here?” Jordan grimaced. “Oh wait … you saw him here the other day, right?”

  I nodded.

  “And I can see why seeing him freaked you out.”

  Suddenly I felt a chill race up my spine. Jordan raised a hand and pointed in the direction of the doorway. We all turned in unison. I hoped I wouldn’t see the bloated drowned man from earlier visions.

  I did.

  Jordan grimaced, and Zelda crossed herself. Ash and Emily looked unmoved. “I only see a faint shimmering,” she said. “What about you, Ash?”

  “The same,” he said. “I’ve never really been able to see spirits too well, only sense them. There is definitely something here, without a doubt.”

  “Is that what a drowned person looks like,” Jordan asked, shuddering with revulsion.

  “I guess so,” I replied.

  “What does he want?” the teen prodded.

  “Probably peace of some kind,” I said. I slowly approached the ghost. “Hello? Can you speak? My name is Poppy and I’d like to help you, um, move on to the afterlife. Would you like to do that?”

  The ghost gave an almost bored look and winked out of sight.

  “Is he gone now?” Emily asked. “The fuzziness is gone.”

  “He’s gone,” Jordan confirmed. Suddenly his hazel eyes took on a curious expression and he whipped his face in the direction of the doorway where the ghost had just stood. He cocked his head like he’d heard something and darted up the stairs.

  We all followed him to the small room overlooking the river, the one where I’d previously seen the spirit.

  Jordan went to the center of the floor and began turning, first left, then right. Finally he kneeled down and scooted over to one corner, testing and tapping at a couple floor boards. One gave a more hollow rap and he pressed down on the opposite end of the board. It quickly gave with a creaking pop, and some dust blew up, causing him to sneeze. We followed and peered over his should
er. Inside was a folded up handkerchief tied up with blue ribbon. Jordan reached inside and carefully extracted it. “Just a handkerchief?” Zelda asked.

  Jordan shook his head as he unraveled it. There he found a gold ring with some dried flowers tucked through the band and all held fast with another length of pale blue ribbon. Emily looked closer.

  “Those look like more dried forget-me-nots, if I’m not mistaken.”

  I drew nearer. I believed my friend was correct. I hovered my hand around the find and felt a wave of sadness so intense it nearly whooshed the air out of my lungs. I toppled backwards, landing on my butt.

  “Are you okay?” Ash asked, putting a steadying hand on my shoulder.

  I nodded. “I just felt a wave of emotion.” I turned toward the window, and there stood the figure of Ernest Sloane once again. This time he at least looked as he must have while still alive. “Is this yours?” I asked.

  “Cora!” was all he exclaimed before vanishing.

  “I guess that was meant for grandma,” Zelda said.

  “At least he didn’t look like a ghoul this time,” Jordan added. “He was actually kind of handsome.”

  “That sounds like a sign of progress,” Emily said, smiling.

  “How so?” Jordan asked.

  “If he looked a bit more lively, even though he’s dead, that sounds like a step in the right direction. It beats him looking all bloated and drowned,” she explained.

  “I’m not complaining,” I said. “But do we know what to do? I’m not feeling any better informed on the matter.”

  “We know more now than we did a few hours back,” Emily said.

  “I suppose so,” I agreed.

  “Do you think there’s a ring that matches the one Jordan just found?” Emily asked.

  I turned to look at Zelda, hoping she had an answer.

  She shrugged. “You might be onto something with that, but where it would be — if there is a matching ring — I honestly don’t know.”

  “Fortunately you have me around,” Jordan said. “I felt compelled to track down that safe and its contents, and I felt a strong itch to go and uncover this ring.”

  “Feeling any other itches or urges to pop open a heat vent or look under a table?” I asked.