Rebecca nodded. “By all accounts, the captain and his wife were very happy for many years.”
“Until?” Something in her voice told me that the Harrisons’s happiness did not last forever.
“Shipping is a dangerous business, especially back in that time. When Captain Harrison was in his late fifties, he decided to retire from the sea and planned to enjoy his later years with his wife.
Unfortunately, his ship was lost on his final voyage, and he never made it home.” “That’s awful,” I said.
Rebecca ran a hand lovingly over the table’s beautiful wood. “Mrs. Harrison lived into her nineties and never remarried. She was twenty years younger than her husband, so it was a long widowhood. The story that was passed down through the family was that she set a place for the Captain every night, just in case fate brought him home to her.” She looked at me conspiratorially. “And according to family legend, it did. But not in the way she expected.”
“Oh?”
Rebecca gave me an impish grin. “According to family legend, Mrs. Harrison was walking down by the Battery and spotted something bobbing in the water next to the sea wall. She had a servant fish it out.”
Flotsam wasn’t unusual down by the harbor, but most of the time it consisted of obvious trash.
“The item turned out to be an oilskin pouch that had been sealed with wax. Inside were papers from Captain Harrison himself, along with a fine silver chain necklace. An unfinished letter in the pouch in the captain’s handwriting indicated that the necklace was a gift for her, and that he looked forward to being home as soon as they completed this last trip, and that he would bring her a fresh pineapple to celebrate.”
There was a reason so many houses in the Charleston area used carvings of pineapples in their decorations. Once upon a time, the fruit had been quite rare, and many a sea captain brought them home as highly desirable gifts.
Rebecca shook her head. “Of course, his ship never made it home, but somehow, the sea brought her his last gift and letter.”
“What a great story!” I said, although as a historian, I had my doubts about its authenticity.
“Oh, that’s not the end of it,” Rebecca said. “The story says that great-great Grandma Harrison put the chain around her neck and went home with the letter. She was giddy with excitement, and told the servants that the Captain was coming home that night.” “The poor old dear,” I murmured.
“In fact, she told the servants to serve dinner for two, and then leave her uninterrupted, because she and the Captain had a lot of catching up to do,” Rebecca said with a gleam in her eye.
My scalp began to prickle. “What happened?”
“According to the story, they found her dead at the table later that evening, slumped in her dining chair. But listen to this: the servants said that the food had been eaten at both place settings and that the room smelled of Bay Rum and pipe smoke, as it did when the Captain was in port.” She met my gaze.
“And there was a fresh pineapple in the middle of the table.”
I eyed the table once more. With all these stories, I’m more surprised that the inn wasn’t haunted before this. Both the house and the furnishings are prime spook material. So the real question is – why now? What set off the haunting?
“Their second son, Benjamin, also went into the shipping business with his brother, and was also lost at sea,” Rebecca added. “Good story, huh?”
“Very good.” I paused. “What about the linens from our shop?” I asked.
Rebecca crossed the room and opened the door beneath the huge sideboard. She took out a folded tablecloth and unfurled it over the dining table.
“I fell in love with this as soon as Debra showed it to me,” Rebecca said wistfully. “For its age, it’s in excellent condition, and the embroidery is just beautiful,” she said, caressing the old stitches between her thumb and finger. The stitching was as white as the cloth itself, but it formed a complicated tracery border that was a work of art.
“We only use it for show,” Rebecca said. “I don’t serve meals on it, because I’m afraid of stains. But I enjoyed putting it out at other times, until she showed up.” “She?”
Rebecca hesitated. “Actually, people have seen two old women in this room, but not at the same time.
One of them seems angry about something, and the other one has a darkness about her that has made people uneasy.”
Grumpy old lady ghosts, I thought. “No idea who they are?”
“I think one of them might be Mrs. Harrison,” Rebecca said. “I’ve only glimpsed her once or twice, but the way she had her hair made me think of an old photograph I saw as a child.” She looked sheepish. “Of course, there were probably thousands of women in her day who wore their hair like that. I could be wrong.”
“But no clue as to why one is angry and the other is out of sorts?”
Rebecca shrugged. “No idea. But one night, I heard a sound like china breaking, and when I came downstairs to see if something had fallen, there was nothing broken, but the doors to the sideboard were open, and I’m certain I had shut them before going to bed.”
I followed her to the very modern kitchen, where she poured us each a cup of coffee and we settled down at the breakfast nook.
“You’re sure there weren’t any sightings of ghosts or strange happenings before you bought the items from Trifles and Folly?” I asked, sipping and savoring my coffee.
Rebecca shook her head. “After everything I’ve told you, you’d think we’d have had a spook-a-palooza here, right?” She made a face. “Truth is, I used to envy the inns that claimed to be haunted. They always get mentioned more in the tourist brochures, and between the ghost tours and the annual Halloween Haunt write-up in the Post and Courier, it seemed to be good for business.”
“If that’s the case, why change it?” I asked. “You’ve got some great stories to tell, and Andrews Carriage Rides would probably be thrilled to have some fresh tales.” Some of our ghosts are famous enough to be celebrities in their own right. A new story with evidence to back it up could be valuable marketing.
Rebecca sipped her coffee, staring into the liquid like she might see an answer in the swirl of her cream. “I thought so too, at first…” She shivered.
“Tell me,” I urged, reaching out to touch her arm.
“The ‘sad’ bedroom upstairs certainly isn’t good for business, or staff turnover,” she said with a grim smile. “The mirror room is unsettling, and the spirit in that room has a habit of playing pranks that have gone from funny to creepy.”
“Oh?”
Her dark hair bobbed as she nodded. “At first, it was just little things like moving a guest’s glasses or sliding a key from one side of the dresser to another. Then later, items went missing, even when no one had been in the room.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t a member of staff playing a prank?”
Rebecca shook her head. “It’s usually just me and one assistant who helps out in busy times, plus a part-time cook and the cleaning lady. At the times guests reported the incidents, there was no one here but me.”
“Could the guest have staged it themselves for attention – or a refund?”
“I don’t think so,” Rebecca replied. “The guests didn’t ask for their money back. Two of the others asked for a change of room. But they were all really spooked by it. I don’t think they were acting.”
“What else?”
“The ghosts have gotten more vocal,” she said with a sigh. “We’ve heard children in the hallway when there weren’t any kids staying here, and a woman’s voice when the room was empty.”
“Anything else?”
Rebecca met my gaze. “I’m worried, Cassidy. In the last week, the activity’s gotten worse. Doors slamming and locking. Damage to the flower beds outside. That incident on the stairs. And in the mirror room, I found one of the feather pillows ripped to shreds.” She shivered. “These aren’t the fun type of ghosts.”
“Do you think the gh
osts are angry about something?”
Slowly, Rebecca nodded. “That’s exactly what I think.” She paused. “I told you about the shadow man in my room. But there’s someone else up there as well.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know her name, but I think she might have worked in the house a long time ago. Maybe that was her room. She’s a middle-aged woman with her hair in a top knot, and she looks like she should have a rolling pin in her hands, if you know what I mean. I think she shows up to protect me.”
“How?”
A smile touched her lips. “One night when I saw the shadow man, I thought he was going to come closer. That was the first time I saw Greta.”
“Greta?”
Again, the sheepish grin. “That’s my name for her. Greta was standing between the door and the foot of my bed. I could almost see through her, but her figure was very clear. She had her hands on her hips, and she looked like she meant business. The shadow man disappeared, and didn’t come back for several nights.”
I leaned forward. “Do you know anything about James Harrison being involved with smugglers?” I asked. “Have you ever heard of a man named Jeremiah Abernathy?”
Rebecca frowned, thinking. “Smuggling wouldn’t surprise me. That was practically the official industry in Charleston for a long while.” She paused. “I don’t know anything about Jeremiah Abernathy, but there was some talk about the pirate loot that James Harrison and his crew brought back on their last trip.” “Oh?”
She nodded. “Their ship, the Lady Jane, was just coming back from Barbados. Rumor had it, they had picked up some of the treasure of a pirate ship that had sunk in a freak storm, and James brought it back to Charleston. A couple of days later, they sailed out again never to return.” Rebecca paused.
“Mrs. Harrison’s diary made it sound like the treasure they had picked up brought trouble. Some of Captain Harrison’s sailors thought it was cursed, and wanted to throw it overboard. They were all relieved to set out again and leave it behind in Charleston. Maybe they should have left it floating where they found it,” she said with a sigh.
A chime sounded, and Rebecca looked up suddenly, glancing at the clock on the wall. It was quarter to eight. “Yikes! I’ve got to get ready,” she said, draining her coffee cup. “I offer light hors d’oeuvres and cocktails in the dining room at 8:30, so I’d better get a move on.”
I finished my coffee and stood. “Can I help?”
Rebecca made a tsk-tsk sound. “Thanks, but no. You’re my guest! Relax a little – I think you’ll enjoy meeting the other couple.”
With that, I left the coffee cup by the sink and headed up to my room. My room was just as I left it. So far, so good.
I had less than an hour before cocktails, so I unpacked my overnight case and laid out a fresh blouse.
Time to see what kind of a read I’ll get from these pieces, I thought. I wanted to be able to sleep tonight, so I was hoping none of the objects in this room were too highly charged with supernatural juice.
I picked up the kit we used on investigations and pulled out a small package of salt, and another bag with some charcoal pieces in it, good for neutralizing negative energy. I didn’t want to damage any of Rebecca’s lovely antiques, but I didn’t want to be damaged by any of them, either.
Gingerly, I touched the footboard of the large brass bed, and waited for my gift to kick in. The images were faint, but pleasant. I caught a whiff of lemon verbena, and saw an image in my mind of a plump older woman, her gray hair in a bun and apron strings tied over a work dress. Running my hand across the chenille bedspread reinforced the same mental picture. Rebecca’s grandmother? I wondered.
Whoever she was, the old woman was a comforting presence.
I felt a little more hesitation when I approached the lamp. I remembered handling it in the shop without any strange effect. This time, I felt a tingle that had nothing to do with loose wiring. But like the bed and bedspread, the feelings and images were safe and comforting. A few notes of a lullaby sounded in the distance, and murmured good-nights. I pulled my hand away, and the vision disappeared, but not the sense of being wrapped in a warm embrace.
None of the pieces in my room needed to be cleansed or neutralized, so I put my items back in the pack and set it near the door for later that evening. Relieved, I settled into the chair with my book for the remaining time, figuring that I’d prowl the inn this evening after my fellow guests retired for the night. Before I knew it, the time had come to spruce up for cocktails.
I brushed my hair, washed my face, and then pulled on my new blouse and put on some lip gloss.
Much better, I thought, appraising my reflection.
As I went down the stairs, I could hear low voices in the dining room and Rebecca’s laugh. When I reached the doorway, I stopped in my tracks, and my mouth may have fallen open in astonishment.
Teag and his partner Anthony stood leaning against the large sideboard, each holding a glass of wine, with Teag’s arm draped across Anthony’s shoulders.
“Hello, Cassidy,” Teag said with a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin. “Fancy meeting you here. Isn’t this a lovely place to get away for a couple of days?”
Chapter Seven
“YOU KNOW EACH other?” Rebecca said, confused. She looked from me to Teag and back again, as Anthony walked over and gave me a hug.
I chuckled, realizing I’d been set up. “Teag and I work together at the shop, and Anthony is a dear friend,” I said.
“We’re your back-up,” Teag explained, pressing a glass of wine into my hand. “I told Anthony about the email you got and about you coming here by yourself –”
“And I asked what he thought about getting away for a couple of evenings,” Anthony finished the sentence. He grinned broadly, flashing me a smile that no doubt was part of his stellar ability to woo juries and broker successful contract negotiations. Usually, I saw Anthony in a suit looking like he had just stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. Teag, with his skater-boy hair and jeans was Rolling Stone to Anthony’s GQ.
Tonight, Anthony had traded in a suit and tie for a collared polo shirt and crisp khakis over boat shoes, a popular upscale Charleston look. Other than changing into a fresh t-shirt from the one he had worn all day at the shop, Teag looked the same as he had a couple of hours earlier. They made a cute couple.
“Honestly, Cassidy, I didn’t think you should tackle this by yourself,” Teag said.
Rebecca looked abashed. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cause a problem.”
I patted her arm. “You haven’t. We sold you the items. So we’ve got a responsibility to figure out what’s going on.”
She put on her game face and managed a smile. “What can I do to help?”
“You’ve already given me the tour, and gotten me thinking,” I said. I gave her my best gung-ho smile.
“We’ll take it from here. Why don’t you go up to your room if you feel safe there and stay put for the night?”
Rebecca looked relieved. Now that I’d had time to study her features, I could see that there were dark circles under her eyes. If living in a newly-haunted house wasn’t wearing her down, then worrying about the ghosts’ impact on her livelihood certainly couldn’t help, especially if the haunts were becoming more active – and dangerous.
Teag and Anthony and I hung out in the dining room enjoying our wine and the plate of appetizers while Rebecca cleaned up the kitchen and made a tray to carry up to her room. At my request, she also put on a fresh pot of coffee, since it was likely to be a long night, and set out cups. We promised to rinse out our wine glasses and put the hors d’oeuvres plate back in the kitchen and bade Rebecca good night.
“I can’t believe you two came to help me out,” I said when Rebecca was gone.
Teag put his hands on his hips and cocked his head, giving me his best stern schoolteacher look.
“Really? After what’s been going on, you think I’m going to let you come to a whole h
ouse full of spookies by yourself? If the haints don’t scare Rebecca, seeing you go into a dead faint with one of your visions is sure to!”
I had to smile. ‘Haints’ was a local term for ghost, and it even had its own paint color, ‘haint blue’, named after the vivid shade some people painted their doors to keep away nasty spirits.
“I even brought an extra kit, just in case,” Teag said, and nodded toward the leather messenger bag he had placed next to the door. I knew it would contain everything that was in my own pack upstairs in my room.
Our kit for investigating questionable objects included several common, but supernaturally powerful items: salt, for protection; chalk, sometimes needed to mark an area to protect or avoid; charcoal; a small bundle of sage, and an abalone shell, to cleanse an area after a working. We usually carried several other useful items, including a wind-up flashlight (supernatural creatures tend to wreck havoc on batteries), and a pouch with dried fennel, hyssop, marigold, and rue, also useful for banishing negative energy. Just for good measure, we usually also threw in a couple of pieces of turquoise, agate, and onyx.
“I even made sure Anthony and I have our lucky agate stones with us,” Teag said with a grin, and held up a smooth polished small agate disk which he had hidden in his pocket. “We’re ready.”
“What can we do to help, Cassidy?” Practical as always, Anthony was the perfect foil to Teag’s unbridled enthusiasm. “Short of breaking and entering, I’m with you.”
I chuckled, knowing that with Anthony’s family and legal connections, he could probably get away with B&E in this town, but I wasn’t going to ask that of him. “Well,” I said. “We’re already inside, so no breaking necessary.
“I thought I’d start by trying to ‘read’ the objects room by room. After that, I figured on a stake-out to see some of this ghostly activity. Something changed these pieces. If we can figure out what made the difference, we should be able to make it stop.”
Anthony frowned. “Can’t we just remove the objects?”
I shook my head. “Now that it’s started, I don’t think just taking the pieces away is going to make it stop.” Briefly, I filled them in on what Rebecca had told me earlier in the day, and the sightings of the man with the broad-brimmed hat. Teag glanced out of the front windows, but no one was in sight.
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