“That’s all right,” said Jackie.
“Oh, that television I’ve had for almost fifty years,” said Mrs. Dayton finally taking notice of Jackie’s interest in it. “I remember when my father bought it. It doesn’t work anymore, but I couldn’t bear to part with it.
“And that sewing machine was my mother’s. Too many memories, which is why I still have it. It still works you know. But I don’t use it as much. Arthritis you know.”
Jackie and I both smiled as we took the cups of tea she handed us and sat on the couch.
“Oh, yes, I had something to give you.” Mrs. Dayton rummaged through a basket pulling out a wrapped package. She handed it to Jackie who carefully opened it. Inside was a pipe. Not just any pipe. This pipe was about 20 inches long and appeared to be made of ivory. A few decorative markings were on it.
I took the pipe from Jackie and examined it. It felt real enough. It felt like ivory, but I thought ivory was really expensive. “Mrs. Dayton, where did you get this?” I asked.
“From the flea market.”
“The flea market?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Dayton sat down in a flower covered chair. “There is this place down there that is selling all sorts of antiques. They specialize in items made from ivory. I got that pipe for $50.”
“$50?” I said. No way would someone sell an ivory antique for fifty bucks.
“Mrs. Dayton, are you sure this is real?” asked Jackie.
“Well the man at the store told me it was.”
“But why would he sell it so cheap?” I asked, more to myself than her.
“Well, he said that he had come upon a bunch of old antiques when he inherited some old family property. The man felt that to sell them to a rich collector would be a travesty. So he set up a place at the flea market where he is selling some of his items at affordable prices. Of course, the larger antiques he sold to a collector for a hefty sum. Isn’t that nice?”
I handed the pipe back to Jackie. “It just seems odd. But thank you for the pipe.”
“You’re welcome, dear,” said Mrs. Dayton with a wave of her hand. “I know neither of you smoke, but I thought it would make a nice decorative item for your apartment. Can never have too many of those.”
Jackie carefully rewrapped the pipe. I could tell she thought the same thing I did.
“What’s this?” asked Jackie as she pulled out an old photo album.
“Oh, I almost forgot I had that.” Mrs. Dayton moved over to the couch sitting between us taking the album. “This album has a lot of photos from my more carefree days.”
The book creaked as she opened it. “See. That’s me.”
She pointed at a girl in the photo who looked to be sixteen with her hair in braids and a big smile.
“Who are the others?” asked Jackie.
“Well, let’s see. That was a long time ago,” said Mrs. Dayton, “That there was George and his brother John. This girl here was Elizabeth. She and I were best friends. She died five years ago.”
“And who’s this?” asked Jackie pointing at a man who appeared to be middle aged and wearing a white shirt made from homespun material. He even wore a three pointed hat and had a pipe hanging out of his mouth. The guy did not look like he belonged in the photo with a bunch of teenagers. He also looked a bit—it’s the ghost!
“I’m not sure,” muttered Mrs. Dayton. “I don’t remember him, but he might have come with us. Hmm. Funny how memory is.”
The next two hours were spent with Mrs. Dayton flipping through her old memories with Jackie and I. It was actually very interesting learning about how the area looked decades before Jackie and I existed. Most importantly, Mrs. Dayton had someone to talk to for a change. I really did feel sorry for her.
Finally Jackie and I had to leave. We thanked Mrs. Dayton for the gift and the tea.
“Anytime, dears,” she said as we left.
“Did you see that man in the photo?” I asked.
“I know!” hissed Jackie. “It looked exactly like—”
“The ghost!” we said together.
“Ghost?”
I looked up and saw Greg standing by our door.
“What ghost?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said, giving him a hug. “When did you get home?”
“Just now,” answered Greg. “What ghost?”
Apparently he wasn’t going to let it drop.
I opened the door and all three of us stepped inside. “An elderly man, Mr. Kellmore, came into the Candle Shoppe yesterday claiming to have seen Smiley’s Ghost and then he died.”
“Yes, I heard about that,” said Greg. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did. Your phone was off.”
Greg pulled out his phone. “Sorry. I forgot to turn it back on.”
“Anyway, I couldn’t stop thinking about it so—”
“Let me guess,” interrupted Greg, “you went up there.”
“Guilty.”
“So what did you find out?” Greg sat in the plushy chair in the room.
“Well, there is definitely a ghost there, but I don’t think he is as dangerous as everyone thinks he is.”
“What makes you say that?” asked Greg.
“He ran when Mel and I stumbled upon him,” answered Jackie. “And I almost got trampled by another ghost.”
“What?” Greg sat upright.
“I don’t think it was a real ghost,” I said, “but there was this black figure on a horse who charged us.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a ghost?” demanded Jackie.
“Because ghosts don’t feel pain when hit by a rock. I threw a rock at the guy and he slumped over a bit when it hit him.”
“So why would some guy be dressed up and on a horse pretending to be a ghost?” asked Greg.
“Good question,” I said, “and I intend to find out.”
“Wait,” said Jackie, “you seriously are not considering going back up there?”
“Well, yeah, I am.”
“Now?”
“Why not? You both can come. We’ll be able to cover more ground.”
“Uh-uh,” said Jackie. “I’m home now and I am not going back there.”
“I’m game,” said Greg.
“Come on, Jackie. I’ll buy you a hot fudge sundae.”
“With sprinkles and a cherry and whip cream?” said Jackie.
“Yep,” I replied.
“Fine, but we’re taking some food.”
Jackie ran into the kitchen and filled three water bottles. She then made a few sandwiches and put them in a bag with some apple chips. “Okay,” said Jackie, zipping up the bag, “I’m ready.”
We took my car again since it needed gas and it wasn’t that difficult to fill it up on the way. In about an hour we had reached the old inn. Once again, we were about a mile away when my car had trouble again.
“What the?” I said as the engine just shut off. I turned the key. The engine whined some but would not turn over. What was going on? This was the second time in one day that my car was stopped at this exact spot: where the road forked.
“What’s wrong?” asked Greg.
“My car just shut off and now I can’t get it to start.”
“Pop the hood,” said Greg as he stepped out.
I did. Luckily, the sun was still up, though I knew it would be down in about an hour. Greg poked around under the hood checking the battery, oil, and brake fluid. “Well, I can’t see any reason why it would stop,” he said.
“I guess we can just walk the rest of the way,” I said.
“Oh no,’ Jackie jumped out. “We’re not walking. Not when it’s so close to being dark.”
“Well how are we going to start the car?” I asked.
Greg pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Jack. He can come up here and give us a jump.”
Works for me.
“Jack,” said Greg when Jack answered, “I need you to come up to the Bourtonson Inn. You know that haunted place everyone tries to avo
id?”
I could hear Jack’s protests. He did not want to come up.
“Jack…Jack…Now wait a minute…Jack!” Greg took a deep breath. “I guess I can tell mom why you missed her July fourth party.”
“You wouldn’t!” came Jack’s voice over the phone.
Greg smiled. He knew he had Jack where he wanted him. “Be here in an hour and bring jumper cables.” Greg hung up. “Ha—ha, it’s too easy.”
“How is it you always have something to blackmail him with?” I asked.
“Easy,” said Greg, “Jack is always missing family events or doing things that he doesn’t want the rest of the family to know about. All I have to do is pick an event he missed and pretend that I know what he was up to. He falls for it every time.”
“So you’re always guessing?” asked Jackie.
“Oh no,” said Greg, “Sometimes I really do know where he was.”
“I don’t know if I should be concerned about you blackmailing your cousin or not,” I said.
“Hey, it’ll get us on our ghost hunt.”
I laughed a bit and kissed him.
“Oh, please,” said Jackie, “I’m eating.” She pulled out the bag of food. This time I agreed with her. It was time to eat and the water certainly tasted good in the heat.
We had just finished our ham and cheese sandwiches and apple chips when Jack arrived in his blue pickup. “Okay,” he said as he slammed the door, “why are you all up here?”
“Mel is on another case,” said Greg.
“What a surprise,” said Jack. “I’m not going to spy for you. I’m not going to hack into any more files for you.”
“Look,” said Greg, “we wouldn’t have called you at all except that the car broke down. All we need is a jump.”
Jack noticed my car for the first time. “That’s it?”
“That’s it,” said Greg, “Unless you want to join us on a ghost hunt.”
“No way,” said Jack as he opened the hood of his truck. He attached the cables to his battery and handed the other end to Greg.
“Too bad,” said Jackie, “There seems to be more than one ghost at that place.”
“Impossible,” said Jack. “The legend only speaks about one.”
“Which is what makes this all the more interesting,” said Greg, “Mel and Jackie were up here earlier and saw two of them.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but Greg motioned for me to remain silent.
“Really?” Jack was clearly intrigued.
“Yeah,” said Greg, “That’s why we’re here. To check it out.”
“You can try turning it on,” said Jack to me.
I got in the car and turned the key. After several moments, the engine finally turned over. Grateful that it was working once again, I left the car running so the battery could charge. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” said Jack. “So you really saw two ghosts?”
“It seems that way,” I said, “except the second one didn’t seem to be a ghost.”
“What do you mean?”
“He seemed more solid and he felt the rock I hit him with.”
Jack arched an eyebrow.
“You could come with us,” said Greg.
“I don’t know,” said Jack.
“It beats sitting around in that office all day,” Greg urged.
“Sure why not.”
We got back in our vehicles and drove the last mile to the property. This time I parked outside the gate near the bushes hoping they would conceal it. I grabbed the flashlight I always kept in my car. Jack had a couple in his truck.
“Okay, we’ll go in pairs,” said Greg. “Jackie, you’ll go with Jack. But let’s not get too far away from each other. Stay within yelling distance.”
Greg and I headed over to the old stable while Jackie and Jack explored the grassy area around it. The door hung awkwardly on its hinges which didn’t surprise me. Carefully, Greg pulled it back making as little noise as possible. I slipped inside with him right behind. I focused the beam of my light on the rafters. Cobwebs hung everywhere which one would expect from an abandoned place. I noticed a second level accessible by a ladder.
“Look there,” I said to Greg pointing it out.
He walked over to it and inspected the rungs. “Seems to be in good condition. I’ll climb up.”
“No,” I said, “I will. I’m lighter and less likely to fall through the floor boards.”
“What if you do?”
“Then you can catch me.”
Grasping the surprisingly smooth wood, I hiked up the ladder making my way to the top. The floor creaked as I stepped on it.
“Be careful,” Greg called from below.
“Toss me the light.”
He threw it up to me and I caught it. The place appeared to be a storage area. A saddle harness hung on the wall next to me. I moved slowly among the spurs, rotted hay, crates, and piles of rope. Most of this stuff appeared to date back a few centuries. They weren’t kidding when they said that no one came here after Joseph Bourtonson died. Were people really that scared?
Glass shattered as I accidentally knocked over an oil lamp. So much for being quiet.
“You okay up there?”
“Yeah,” I said, “Just knocked over a lamp.”
I scanned the loft. A small window at the far end caught my eye. I made my way to it weaving around piles of junk and an old trunk. The trunk was not locked. I opened it. Instantly, dust and moths flew everywhere causing me to cough.
Once the dust cleared, I unfolded the wrapped linen inside revealing piles of clothes; but these were not just any clothes. I picked up a pair of breeches. If these were old, they were in good condition. Carefully, I pulled out a shirt. This looked a lot like one of those shirts that people wore in the eighteenth century. Hat, boots, even a dress was in these; I mean the kind with a poofy skirt and petticoats. These were genuine seventeenth or eighteenth century clothing, yet no one knew they were up here.
I heard a noise. Quickly, I looked out the window. Outside I saw three figures. Two were dark and difficult to make out. Their animated motions indicated that they were having an argument. I knew they weren’t Jackie or Jack. The third figure glowed slightly and seemed to be watching the other two; who remained unaware of his presence.
I flicked off the light. Despite straining my ears, I was unable to make out the nature of the argument.
“Mel?”
I ignored Greg. Who were these people?
“Mel?”
“There’s a couple of guys out here,” I whispered.
“What?”
I rushed back to the ladder not caring if I knocked anything over. The floor creaked with each step until—
The floorboards fell away beneath my feet and I dropped to the level below. Before I had time to fully realize what had happened, I felt Greg’s arms around me as we both hit the floor. “Oomph,” said Greg.
“Sorry,” I replied. “The boards must have been more rotted than I thought.”
“Lucky I was here to catch you.”
“Come on,” I said jumping to my feet. “Those guys! We need to know who they are!”
I ran out of the stable with Greg right behind me. “Mel!”
I stopped when I reached the outside corner of the building. Cautiously, I peeked around it spotting the two figures. The clomping of horse’s hooves caught my attention. “Do you hear that?”
Greg looked around. “There,” he said pointing at a cloaked figure on a horse. Suddenly, I found myself glad that the sun had dipped below the horizon. The guy on the horse stopped next to the other two. What was going on? They didn’t run from him. In fact, they seemed to know each other.
They talked for several minutes before the man on the horse rode off disappearing in the darkness. The two on the ground passed insults before parting. Well that confirmed it. The guy on the horse was no ghost.
The faint glow attracted my attention again. That had to be the ghost, but why would a gh
ost spy on a couple of guys having an argument? This was just too weird for me so I did what any self-respecting sleuth would do: I headed for it.
“Mel,” hissed Greg.
“See that faint light up there?”
Greg nodded.
“That is the ghost, but I don’t think he’s cursed like the legend says.”
I continued running across the field. Greg chased after me annoyed at my lack of caution. I flew over the landscape with my boots crashing through the grass. Just I reached the ridge where the ghost was, the light vanished. Great. A shy ghost.
“Mel,” huffed Greg as he caught up.
“He vanished,” I said annoyed.
“Maybe you only thought you saw something.”
I glared at Greg, not that he could see me since it had gotten really dark.
“Mel!” hissed Jackie.
I whipped my head in her direction. She and Jack had apparently decided to explore the ridge. She pointed below us. I watched as the figure on the horse pranced about in a circle before riding off again. What was the deal with the black figure on the horse?
Jackie and Jack hurried over to Greg and I. “Did you see that?” asked Jackie. “I think you’re right. He’s no ghost.”
“Yeah, so why is he pretending to be one?” I asked. “Did you see a faint light around here?”
“Yeah,” said Jack, “That was weird.”
“I think that was the real ghost,” I replied, “and I think he was spying on the two guys that I saw talking to the man on the horse.”
“Now this is getting really strange,” said Jackie.
Strange was right. Mr. Kellmore stumbled upon something. “Jackie, I think we need to go to the flea market tomorrow,” I said, “And we need to know who Mr. Kellmore’s immediate relatives are.”
“Fine,” said Jack, “I‘ll look them up.”
That was a first. Jack never volunteered to help on a case before. He must have been just as interested in this as we were.
“It’s all settled,” said Greg, “I think we ought to go home.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said.
Grudgingly, I left the estate. I didn’t want to, but it was doubtful that I would find anything else that night. But that antique place at the flea market was next on my list of places to investigate.
Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 07 - Two Ghosts Haunt a Grove Page 3