Phantom in the Pond

by Dorothy Bodoin

  “I know the difference between a fish and a dog.”

  “This is the weirdest place, but I think I want to come back without Lucy,” Annica said. “It’s unhealthy for her. You and I appear to be immune.”

  “At present, for now anyway.”

  I took a final look at the pond, silent and still, and we walked back to the car.

  “I hoped Lucy would sense something helpful today,” I said. “I never wanted her to be sick.”

  “Well, no. She seems all right now.”

  “Because she’s out of the house. I don’t know how Brent can move his dogs and a caretaker in while everything is so unsettled.”

  ~ * ~

  “We shouldn’t have left,” Lucy said as I turned on the road that would take us to Dark Gables. “I feel all right now, just a little weak. But at the time…” She paused, frowning. “At the time I felt so sick. It came on suddenly.”

  “We can always go back another day,” Annica said.

  “You don’t know what would have happened to you if you’d stayed,” I added. “Look on those symptoms as a warning.”

  The house had sickened her. Suppose its intent was to kill her? How would it accomplish that?

  Don’t overreact, I told myself. A house can’t kill a person.

  My inner voice disagreed. Sure it can. With poisonous fumes. With fire. With water. With wind.

  But why would the house wish Lucy harm? Because eventually she could divine its secrets?

  “I won’t let a house get the better of me,” Lucy said. “After all, it’s only wood.”

  I thought it best to change the subject. “If you’d come with me to the pond, you’d have seen the resident phantom.”

  Immediately she brightened. “You saw Holly’s dog again. How exciting!”

  “If that’s who he is.”

  We amused ourselves with speculation. Assuming the dog in the pond was a true ghost, what part had he played in the old mystery? Why did he appear in the fishpond? The connection seemed obvious. The pond itself had been part of the mystery.

  I pushed away a sudden image of the dog drowning in the pond.

  “On the other hand, he could be a real dog, a stray.”

  “Maybe that dog I threw the crullers to came back,” I said.

  “Did anyone notice a doggy door?” Annica asked.

  No one had. The turn to Spruce Road loomed ahead. We would make Lucy comfortable, make her that cup of tea she craved, and go on with our day. I planned to call Helena and wanted to know if O’Meara was still among the living and if Lyle remained a fugitive.

  But my thoughts remained with the house on Loosestrife Lane. All I knew for certain was that Holly Wickersham hadn’t packed her suitcases and taken a trip from which she never returned. The mystery was in the house and the surrounding yard and the long-ago tornado.

  ~ * ~

  Helena had the answers to my questions. O’Meara was out of danger and had been released from the hospital. He denied running a crooked pet transport service and swore he knew nothing about the missing dogs. He cast blame on his boss, a man of mystery whose name he’d never known.

  As for Lyle, nobody had been home for several days. Neighbors thought he and his wife were somewhere in Tennessee.

  “And Arden is still missing,” Helena added. “She’s my dog, and I never even saw her.”

  I’d invited her over, and, as the morning was warm and balmy, we sat on the porch with the collies, drinking lemonade and eating ginger cookies, an unexpected gift from Camille.

  “I keep hoping that whoever has her will recognize her from the picture on TV and get in touch with me,” she said. “But Arden is so beautiful that whoever has her now won’t want to return her, especially if he paid for her.”

  “O’Meara caused this mess. They should force him to clean it up.”

  That was unlikely to happen as long as he denied any association with Sea-to-Sea Transport, as long as the elusive partner or boss stayed out of sight, and no one came forward with proof of O’Meara’s wrong doing. For all anyone knew, the other man could be a fabrication.

  “I don’t approve of what Lyle did,” Helena said, “but someone had to do something. Too bad it didn’t work.”

  “I’m out of ideas.”

  “So is Kate, I’m afraid. She’s investigating a tax man who left his customers high and dry, taking their confidential information with him.”

  “But surely she’ll be back with an update,” I said.

  Candy dashed off the porch, followed by Misty. The others came to attention, slowly or quickly according to their personalities. A white vintage Plymouth with long green fins was coming up the lane, slowing down, turning into our driveway.

  “You have company,” Helena said.

  “It’s Brent Fowler.”

  “I’d better go.”

  “No, stay. You know him,” I said, recalling that she boarded her horse at his barn. He hadn’t been part of our efforts to bring down Sea-to-Sea transport, though.

  Candy and Misty dashed to the car and circled around it, barking wildly. As soon as Brent stepped onto the ground, they jumped on him, pretending not to hear my shouted “Down!” They’d do this even if he hadn’t carried a bag from Pluto’s Gourmet Pet shop in his hand.

  They ran to me, then darted back to the car to escort Brent to the porch. He acknowledged the more sedate members of the pack with hasty pats and sank into the wicker rocker, transferring the Pluto’s bag of treats to my lap.

  “Hot out today. Hello, Helena. Any news yet about your dog?”

  I poured him a glass of lemonade while Helena brought him up to date on the latest developments.

  “What’s new with you?” she asked.

  “I think I found my caretaker,” he said. “Yes, I’m sure I have.”

  Thirty-five

  Brent had said that on previous occasions with the same optimistic tone. I hoped this time would be a charm, but I detected a slight reservation in his voice.

  “What’s the drawback?” I asked.

  “Near as I can tell, there isn’t any. Alberta Coulder is a widow who loves animals and old houses. I took her to the barn to meet the collies. It went well. Next I’ll show her the house. She’d like to move out of her apartment, but she can’t afford to buy a house of her own. It’s perfect.”

  “But there’s a drawback.”

  “Not with Alberta. The problem is I still can’t find a contractor as good as the last one.”

  “But he abandoned your job. That wasn’t good.”

  “He was supposed to be the best,” he said. “I can’t open the house with a kitchen all torn up.”

  “And a mystery unsolved,” I added quietly.

  “Do you mean the whereabouts of Holly Wickersham? We may never know what happened to her.”

  “That and…” I hesitated. Lucy hadn’t sworn us to secrecy, but she wanted to downplay her latest experience. “The disturbance in the house. Lucy was with us yesterday, and she got sick. As soon as she left the house, she was okay. Well, a little weak. She didn’t go near the landing.”

  Helena had been listening to us intently. “I’d love to see this house.”

  Brent’s natural good humor resurfaced. “If my rest home for older collies falls through, I can always sell tickets: Tour Fowler’s Mansion—See a ghost. Five dollars.

  “No one actually saw an apparition there,” I pointed out. “We’ve heard strange sounds. Lucy Hazen sensed a disaster from the past on the landing.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Helena said.

  I didn’t mention the phantom in the pond. I considered him my personal ghost. But I filled her in on the house’s strange properties, including the scratching sound that Annica thought was made by a gigantic rat.

  “May I have a tour sometime?” Helena asked. “A kind of rehearsal for the real one?”

  Brent laughed. “Why not? Everyone’s familiar with the house except my collies. I have seven waiting to move out
of the barn.”

  Brent’s stable was more comfortable—luxurious even—than some people’s houses, and at least one of his men was devoted to the collies. But the house on Loosestrife Lane would be so much better with Alberta at the helm. I pictured her as a loving, motherly woman, like Lila Woodville at the animal shelter.

  “You can go with us, Helena,” I said.

  “And next time I’ll be there,” Brent promised.

  “Lucy is determined to go back to the house,” I reminded him.

  Brent frowned. “I don’t think she should. This is her second serious episode.”

  “You know we mystery mavens don’t like to leave a puzzle unsolved.”

  “I’ve been told I’m a little psychic,” Helena said. “So was my mother.”

  That was a welcome surprise. With Lucy, Misty, and Helena, how could we lose?

  “All the better,” I said. “Can we get together tomorrow around noon?”

  The day and the time worked for everybody.

  “Tomorrow then,” I said. “I’ll call Lucy.” I glanced at Brent. “We need her, she wants to be there, and you’ll be on hand to protect her from the bad vibes.”

  “How can I do that?” he wanted to know. “I wouldn’t recognize a vibe if I fell over it.”

  “Be prepared for anything,” I said. “All right. Here’s what has to happen. You find a reputable contractor. Offer him a bonus if he finishes by your deadline. Our ghost catching team drives the restless spirits out of the house. Alberta and the collies move in.”

  “It sounds so simple,” Brent said. “It’s what I want.”

  “We’ll make it happen.”

  I had no idea what fired my confidence, but I truly felt that we were all due for a happy ending.

  ~ * ~

  I invited Brent and Helena to stay for dinner. Later, while we were relaxing over coffee and cake in the living room, Crane said, “I’ll stop by the house tomorrow. I’ve never seen it.”

  “The sheriff will lock the ghosts up,” Brent said.

  “I’m not that powerful,” Crane countered.

  The prospect of Crane’s visit cheered me immensely. Whenever he joined in one of my adventures, good things usually happened. In any case, he would provide an extra level of protection if the house turned surly.

  “Jennet,” Helena said, “it’s time for the news. Shall we see if Kate in Your Corner is on tonight?”

  “Good idea.” Crane turned the television on as the weather report was ending. Hot, hotter, hottest… Afternoon thunderstorms.

  “Maybe we should postpone tomorrow,” Helena said.

  “Not at all,” I said. “A little thunder will be good for atmosphere.”

  Kate’s report was next. In a deep pink suit with a chunky white necklace, she looked brighter and happier than we’d seen her to date. She must have good news.

  “There’s been a development in a story we’ve been following,” she announced. “Five of the missing Sea-to-Sea Transport dogs have been recovered. Motorists traveling on White Pine Trail in Grenville spotted the dogs making their way down this rural country road in an orderly line. Two good Samaritans stopped and coxed them into their cars…”

  Helena sat forward eagerly on the sofa. “At last.”

  “Shhh.” Brent turned the volume up.

  “The animals are currently being evaluated at Starfield Veterinary Hospital. At this time, Duncan O’Meara, suspected scam artist and dognapper, can’t be located to throw light on the situation.”

  “In an orderly line?” I pictured small children walking in line to the cafeteria. Wouldn’t unleashed dogs be more likely to run in a pack?

  Pictures of the dogs, previously shown, filled the screen. The last was a tricolor collie.

  “It’s Arden!” Helena rose from the sofa. “When can I get her?”

  “Listen,” Brent said.

  Kate continued. “The dogs will be turned over to their owners with proper identification.”

  “Where’s Grenville?” Helena asked.

  “It’s a little town northeast of Maple Creek. I’ll go with you if you like.”

  As the clock struck seven, Helena consulted her watch. “Oh, no. It’s too late now.”

  “We’ll go in the morning.”

  I remembered then that we’d made other plans for the next day. “Early tomorrow morning,” I said.

  She nodded. “As soon as they open. I’ll have to bow out of the haunted house tour. I’m not going to pick Arden up, then leave her alone.”

  “She comes first.”

  “I assumed she was sold to somebody else,” Helena said. “What was she doing walking down a country road with four other dogs?”

  “Maybe the people at the vet’s will know,” I said. “Or Kate.”

  Kate finished her report with a promise of an update as soon as she gathered further information.

  Part of the Sea-to-Sea mystery had been solved, but many aspects were still unknown. What had become of the other stolen dogs? Would O’Meara ever be found? Now that he had presumably recovered from his injury, would Lyle come out of hiding? He might still face charges.

  Well, I had done what I could, which wasn’t much. Now I would leave the tying of loose ends to Kate and concentrate on the many mysteries at the house on Loosestrife Lane.

  Thirty-six

  As soon as we set out for Grenville the next morning, Helena began to worry.

  “What will I do if they don’t give Arden to me?” she asked. “I’ve been thinking. Anybody could claim her.”

  “But you’re her owner. You must have proof.”

  She patted her purse. “I have her registration and the receipt the breeder sent me. I have her picture on my cell phone and messages dealing with her purchase, too. Oh, and I have her rabies tag.”

  “Well, then. What more do you need?”

  “She won’t know me. I’ll be a stranger.”

  Mmm. What Helena said was true. I thought about it for a moment, then knew what to say. “Sea-to-Sea was transporting other dogs to new owners. I’m sure most of you are in the same boat. The people at the animal hospital won’t expect her to know you.”

  “I won’t be happy until I have her under my roof.” She rested her hand on the new collar and leash in her lap.

  “It’ll be all right,” I said. “Don’t borrow trouble.”

  “It’s just that I’ve been through so much. We waited so long.”

  “It’ll all be over soon,” I assured her.

  Except, of course, not all of the missing dogs had been found. O’Meara and his elusive partner might have started a new transport service using a different name. And Lyle… I hoped he was back in Michigan and could avoid arrest for attempted homicide.

  What a tangle! Kate’s investigation was far from over.

  The drive was pleasant, through Maple Creek, a small, picturesque town, and on through farmland and pinewood countryside. I left the air conditioning off and powered down the windows so that fresh air could circulate through the car.

  The Starfield Veterinarian Hospital was charming, once a private two-story residence with banks of purple coneflowers blooming in the front yard. Rows of dark pink impatiens interspersed with silver mounds grew along the foundation, and a pair of stone spaniels flanked the entrance.

  “Here goes.” Helena looped the leash over her wrist, and we walked up to the hospital. Beyond the heavy door we found ourselves in a vestibule with leashes of all sizes hanging on a pegboard shaped like a generic canine.

  “Who comes to the vet without a leash?” Helena asked.

  “You never know what people will do.”

  Helena took her place in line behind a young girl holding a lethargic black puppy in her arms while I sat and surveyed the other patients. They were mostly small to medium sized. Not one of them looked as if they were enjoying the experience.

  At the counter, Helena produced her proof of ownership, and Gwen, a bubbly, brown-haired vet tech, escorted us to an empty
room.

  “We only have two Sea-to-Sea dogs that haven’t been claimed,” she said. “Which dog have you come for?”

  “A tricolor collie,” Helena said. “Her name is Arden.”

  “Ah, our pretty black Lassie. She’s a popular little girl. I’ll bring her right out.”

  As soon as she left, an ear piercing scream echoed through the hospital. I hoped with all my heart that the screamer was expressing fear and wasn’t in agony.

  “No wonder dogs hate coming to a place like this,” Helena said.

  I nodded. “The air is thick with trauma.”

  And whatever happened had taken place behind closed doors.

  “Here’s your girl.” Gwen paused in the doorway, her hand brushing lightly along the rib cage of a small black collie. Arden held her ears flat against her head. Her eyes were wary, and her tail seemed to have disappeared.

  “Come, beautiful girl,” Helena said.

  Arden gave a pathetic little whimper. She didn’t move.

  “She’s so pretty,” Helena murmured. “So thin…”

  She seemed disappointed that Arden hadn’t jumped into her arms. Gwen gave the leash to Helena.

  “She takes a few minutes to warm up to people, but she has a loving disposition,” Gwen said.

  “That’s what her breeder said.”

  “Is one of your Sea-to-Sea dogs an Irish setter?” I asked.

  “Yes. His owner claimed him this morning.”

  Helena cast me a meaningful look. Lyle was out of hiding, then, and out of trouble, I hoped.

  Gwen left the office and returned with Helena’s bill. “Your dog is in the best of health, just a little underweight.”

  “I hope they fed her, wherever she was.” Helena dropped her hand to Arden’s head. “You’re coming home with me where the living is easy.”

  Arden wagged her tail, and I felt the sting of tears in my eyes. Happy tears. The warm-up had already begun. I loved nothing more than a long-awaited reunion.

  ~ * ~

  I said goodbye to Helena, drove home to pick up Misty, then proceeded to Dark Gables where Lucy was waiting for us, ready for the day’s adventure.

  “Brent is going to meet us there.” Lucy set a box from the Hometown Bakery on the back seat. Let’s hope the storm holds off.”