Charity Shop Haunted Mysteries

by Katherine Hayton

  “Hardly a graveyard,” Emily said, letting Maude lead them away from the site. “Those bodies were being hidden, not interred.”

  “Do you think the mafia moved into Pinetar while we weren’t looking?”

  Emily screwed up her nose and uttered a small laugh. “No, I don’t think so. For one, the local gangs wouldn’t tolerate them moving onto their patch and for another, I can’t imagine what an old man or teenagers would need to do to get themselves assassinated.”

  “Maybe they were drug mules.”

  “Maybe someone should put her imagination to rest.”

  Crystal bent to pick a bright pink flower from the spray of valerian growing wild along the edge of the woodland. She sniffed it as they walked the border of the property, waiting for Maude to grow tired.

  “I should pick some of those for their roots,” Emily said, cupping a hand over her mouth to catch a yawn. “If I don’t get a good night’s sleep soon, I’ll be laid up by this time next week.”

  “Restless spirits keeping you awake, are they?” Crystal smiled but a hint of envy escaped in her voice.

  Emily nodded. “When I wished for a man in my bedroom, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

  It took her a second, then Crystal burst into laughter. “Oh, my,” she said, fanning herself. “Now, I’ve come over all peculiar.”

  “Could you take Maude’s lead?” Emily asked, handing it over before Crystal had a chance to answer. “I’m getting a cramp.”

  She plonked herself down, crushing half a dozen different species of wildflower. The large muscle along her right thigh stiffened into a slab of rock, and for the next few minutes, Emily couldn’t think past the pain.

  When the limb finally eased up, she gave a shaky laugh. “I really wish these things would give me a written warning.” She took Crystal’s offer of a hand, and stood up, shifting her weight slowly from one foot to the other.

  “We can go in the back of the home,” Crystal said, pointing. “That’ll be quicker than walking all the way around the outside.”

  “I hope you’ve got a better sense of direction than me,” Emily said, nodding to the suggestion. “The corridors from this side to the other are like a spider’s web.”

  “What? Sticky?”

  Emily was still giggling when she reached the door to the hospital side of the retirement home. She grabbed the handle, then frowned and tugged again, harder.

  “It’s locked,” she said in bewilderment. “Why would they do that?”

  “It’s getting late,” Crystal said, checking her watch. “Well, it’s after six-thirty.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows as she knocked on the door.

  “It’s late when you’re old,” Crystal said in a defensive tone. “If you eat your dinner at three thirty, the long summer evenings just drag on forever.”

  The nurse Emily had met the day before poked her head out. “What are you doing out here? This isn’t a public entrance.”

  “I’m sorry, my leg cramped, and I wondered if we could use this as a short-cut.”

  The nurse frowned at Emily for so long, she half expected the door to slam in her face. Then the woman sighed and stood back to let them pass. “You want to take magnesium to stop that happening. Adding bananas or salmon to your diet will clear that right up.”

  After they were through the door, the nurse locked it again. Emily frowned but didn’t pursue the issue, despite the large green exit sign hanging from the ceiling above them.

  “Is Frederick Wilmott or Gladys Angel about?” she asked instead. “I’d love the chance to talk to them.”

  The nurse waved at two doors down opposite corridors. “They’ll be in their rooms. We don’t stay up late in this wing. Most of the residents wake up before sunrise so they go to bed early.”

  “Frederick’s in room twenty-four, isn’t he?” Emily recalled Margaret’s words from last night.

  The nurse nodded but frowned. “You can’t take the dog in there. Our residents often experience anxiety and I’m sure an animal will upset them.”

  Emily’s immediate opinion was the opposite, but she nodded, ready to give up the idea.

  Crystal tugged Maude a few steps away. “I’ll take her back to Agnes and have a chat about how she’s settling in here. I haven’t caught up with her since she stopped being able to come to felting club.”

  She headed off and gratitude surged through Emily’s chest until it glowed. “I’ll meet you there, later.” It hadn’t even occurred to her that Agnes and Crystal might already be friends.

  Emily knocked on Frederick Wilmott’s door, holding her breath while she waited for an answer. When he told her to come in, she opened the door slowly, giving him a chance to get himself decent if he wasn’t already.

  “Frederick Wilmott?”

  “Who’re you?”

  The sharp tone caught Emily off-guard. She’d been expecting more of a befuddled air, similar to her ghost companion. For a second, her own name stuck on the end of her tongue, leaving her stuttering. “E… E… Emily.”

  Mr Wilmott’s room was the exact same layout as Agnes’s and he sat in the chair next to the desk, his head tilted to one side. “Nice to meet you, E-E-Emily,” he said, the mocking softened by a large smile. “What brings you to my bachelor pad at this time of night?”

  “I was hoping to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.” Her hands wrung together, the knuckles protesting. “About when you were at—Oh!”

  She saw the framed photograph sitting in pride of place on the man’s desk. An old school photograph with students lined up in neat rows, either grinning or scowling.

  The quality of the image was terrible, half of the students faces eradicated by the smear of movement. The varnished wooden frame had worn away over years of use, revealing the original light-coloured flesh beneath the stain.

  “Writing up a history of the school, are you?” Mr Wilmott asked, passing the photograph across to her. “If so, I can’t help you out, I’m afraid.” He rapped the side of his head with a knuckle. “This old case is mostly empty.”

  The wit behind his pronouncement and the twinkle in the man’s eye belied the words. Emily took quick peeks at his face in between studying the photograph. If this man actually suffered from confusion or memory loss, she’d eat her hat.

  “What about the people in this photo? Can you tell me who they are?”

  He shook his head, holding a hand out for her to return the picture but she kept hold of it, turning it over to inspect the back. A long-held habit formed by years of treasure hunting through auctions or pawing through garage sales on the weekend.

  A list, probably of names, was written in pencil, now so faded it blurred into smudges. Emily bit her lip in a burst of frustration. Even if the marks were legible, they wouldn’t tell her anything. She handed it back to the man, pointing to the scribbles. “You don’t need to rely on your memory.”

  A quick frown creased his brow then was lost in the reappearance of a sunny smile. “Fine, it’s my old gang from when I attended this place the first time. Under duress.”

  “You’re here willingly, now?”

  Emily had meant the question as a joke, but the locked door intruded on her thoughts and soured her tone. He jerked back as though she’d struck out at him.

  “Yes, I am. They take good care of me here. Nurse Rebecca is an absolute doll.”

  His tone was so defensive, she could tell Mr Wilmott meant every word. Still, Emily found it hard to reconcile the word doll with the stern woman she’d met twice.

  “I’m sorry.” Emily tried a smile on for size, running a hand through her hair and blowing out a breath. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we start again?”

  “No. I don’t think we can.” Mr Wilmott stood, towering a good six inches above her. Sat down, he hadn’t looked anywhere near that tall. “I’d like you to leave. It’s been a very tiring day and I need to get some rest.”

  “Just one thing,” Emily held up
a finger as he went to push her back towards the door. “Can you tell me Gladys Angel’s room number?” When he hesitated, she lied, “I picked up something of hers by accident yesterday and need to return it.”

  “She’s in room thirteen. It’s down the corridor opposite.” He gave a sad smile. “We’re not trustworthy enough to have men and women on the same side.”

  Before he could advance on her again, Emily left and hurried to Gladys’s room. The entire affair seemed an exercise in futility, but she forced herself to knock.

  “Can you let me out?” a small voice whispered from the other side. It sounded like the woman must be pressed up tight against the door. “They don’t let me have a key.”

  Emily turned the handle, her mouth falling open as it met resistance. To lock the exit door was bad enough, but to lock a resident in her room was unforgivable. She turned around, ready to stampede down the hallways to the nurse’s station. Nurse Rebecca stood right behind her, holding a key.

  “You’ll need this,” she said shortly, unlocking the door and pocketing the key again. “Don’t keep her up too late and if she gets upset, call me.”

  The woman strode away, gone around the corner before Emily could quite work out what was happening. She opened the door with care. Gladys crowded her as soon as it opened.

  “Are you here to take me home?” she whispered, bright spots lighting up on her cheeks like an old-fashioned doll. “I don’t want to stay here.”

  “Can you help me out with a few questions?” Emily asked, ignoring the hope in the woman’s eyes. “Do you remember when you were at school here?”

  Confusion clouded Gladys’s eyes. “School. I didn’t go to school.” She stamped her foot on the floor. “I’ve been held in this prison ever since I was a little girl and I want to go home!”

  With the woman’s voice rising, so too did Emily’s sense of alarm. She held her hands up, shushing the woman as she took another step into the room.

  “You’re not with them, are you?”

  “No.” Emily shook her head in an overly large gesture, sending her hair flying into her eyes. “I’m not. Do you remember Frederick Wilmott?”

  “Fred sent you?” Gladys went very still, her eyes as wide as saucers. “Did he make it to Astrid in time?”

  “I’m sure he did.” Emily thought about the school roll printout in her bag. She wouldn’t be able to read the answers even if Gladys could make head or tail of them. Still… It was what she’d come here to do. Talking to this time-confused woman wouldn’t get them anywhere but a name might.

  “You remember Astrid and Fred, but can you tell me about the other students you attended Oakhaven with?”

  Emily sat on the bed and patted the cover next to her. When Gladys perched beside her, she handed over the paper and a pen. “You remember the boys buried out in the back garden, don’t you?”

  Gladys jerked her head up to stare at Emily, her mouth pulled down in despair. “We’re not allowed to talk about that,” she said in a whisper, then checked over her shoulder. “You remember what Mr Leuf said?”

  “What did he say?”

  When tears welled in Gladys’s eyes, Emily reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. “He can’t hurt you. Not now. Tell me what he said.”

  She felt an utter bully, pressuring the woman even that little bit, but Emily’s selfishness forced her onwards. She didn’t want to spend another night in the same room as a man who stared at her intently while she slept. The thought sent a zap of electricity racing over her scalp, tingling unpleasantly.

  “No one will believe us, anyway. It’s no use telling anyone.” Gladys pulled her hand free and picked up the pen. “The police would just laugh in our face and send us straight back here if they don’t lock us up and throw away the key.”

  She circled a name and Emily felt a shiver of relief.

  “The police won’t lock you up,” she said in a firm voice. “I won’t let them.”

  Gladys circled another name, then another.

  Three names.

  Three dead boys in the ground.

  Emily reached out to pick the pages up, then paused as Gladys slowly drew another circle on the paper. And another. And another.

  Until the dive into disappointment took her breath away, Emily hadn’t realised how much she’d been hoping for a miracle from this woman. Was that why she’d pushed this visit all the way to the end of the day, despite being easily able to get out of her earlier obligations? She hadn’t wanted to be left in the doldrums with no rope available to pull her out?

  “You mustn’t tell on me,” Gladys said, returning the paper and pen.

  Emily made a big deal of putting it away in her purse just so she wouldn’t have to meet the woman’s eyes. She didn’t want her dip into depression to scare her.

  “Did the man find the axe?” the elderly woman asked, grabbing hold of Emily’s hand and crushing it until her bones shrieked in pain. “I saw him digging out there. Did he find it?”

  “The man was fixing the plumbing,” Emily explained, extricating herself from Gladys’s tight grasp with force. “He had to dig up the pipe to repair it, but the water flow is back to normal.”

  Gladys frowned, placing her trembling fingertips up to her temple. “But he cut the man down?” She stared down at the floor, shaking her head. “No, no. He cut the tree down. The oak?”

  “The tree is still out there. I’m sure if it needs to be cut down, Allain will organise it.”

  “Not Allain, the other one.” Gladys clicked her fingers together. “Samuel.” She giggled. “Samuel the animal.” She held her index finger up to her lips. “But you’re not allowed to say we call him that.”

  “I promise, I won’t tell Samuel anything.” Emily stood up, her thigh muscle protesting the movement and threatening to cramp once again. “Thank you for your time, Gladys.”

  “You can’t leave,” the woman said, aghast, struggling to her feet and running to the door. “Nurse!” She turned back to Emily, digging her fingers hard into her shoulder, her breath fetid and warm against her cheek.

  “They’ll never let you leave.”

  Chapter Eleven

  For once, Emily was glad to see Rebecca’s unsmiling face. While the nurse coaxed Gladys into bed, she kicked the door shut leaving Emily outside in the corridor.

  The spurt in adrenaline as a result of the elderly woman’s grip and muttered threats made Emily’s legs feel shakier than usual. As she walked through the interconnecting corridors, hoping to make it back to a recognisable location, she ran her hand against the wall for support.

  “There you go,” Crystal said in a cheerful voice when she made it to Agnes’s room. “We were just about to give up on you.”

  As Emily walked further inside, collapsing into the chair, the medium leaned forward, her face twisting with concern.

  “What happened? You look dreadful.”

  “Don’t tell her that,” Agnes scolded. “You look perfectly fine, dear. Just like you’ve had a bit of a shock.”

  Emily nodded and let the two women fuss over her, even Maude joining in by rubbing against her ankles.

  “I’m okay,” she said after a few minutes and felt it was the truth. With her heart settling back into its normal rhythm, her temporary fright retreated into the distance. “I was just talking to Gladys, and it all got a tad weird.”

  “Yeah, it gets like that.”

  “Knock, knock,” a woman’s voice called out, a knuckle tap following a moment later.

  Agnes opened the door on Suzanne Wilberforce, her dog Conker sitting obediently at her heel.

  “Oh, goodness. I didn’t realise you had company.”

  “The more the merrier,” Agnes said in good humour, waving Suzanne inside. “Since there’s so many of us, I might crack open a bottle of sherry. I’ve missed having a tipple and a chat in the evening since my Bertie passed on.”

  Emily took the drink with a grateful smile, though she’d steered clear of alcohol since h
er accident. Right now, her nerves were shouting louder than her common sense.

  “I’m sorry if I came off a bit rude when we first met,” Suzanne said, hitching herself up onto the desk. “I was scared if Allain got his knickers in a twist over Maude, he might re-examine the evidence for me keeping Conker here.”

  With the warm glow of sherry blooming in her stomach, Emily waved it off. “I don’t know why you’d be worried. At a guess, he never bothered to look too closely when you and Conker first arrived.”

  “No, he didn’t.” Suzanne took a large gulp, draining half the small glass, and gazed at her dog with an adoring expression. “I put on my most pompous voice and fixed him with a steely gaze, like this.” She narrowed her eyes and stared at Emily, who jumped.

  “I wouldn’t have checked anything, either,” she admitted. “Right now, I feel like I’ve done something wrong.”

  The group laughed and clinked their glasses together. Maude and Conker eyed each other, then each decided the other dog was the most boring animal in the world.

  “Did you get anything out of Gladys except a deep, unsettling fear?” Crystal asked when the conversation lulled. “Or was it all a bit of a goose chase?”

  “She circled some names,” Emily said, pulling the school roll out of her bag. “But I don’t know if they mean anything. I thought for a moment, she might’ve been naming the victims.” She jerked her head towards the window. “Except she circled far too many.”

  “Do you think there are more bodies out there to find?” Agnes said, her hand reaching up to massage her throat. “It’s been bad enough having those graves for a view since I moved in. If it’s going to be a recurring theme, I think I’d rather move to my second-choice retirement village, over in Christchurch.”

  “I hope not.” Crystal leaned forward, tapping Emily on the shoulder. “What does your ghost say? Are there more bodies out there?”

  “My ghost doesn’t say anything, that’s the problem.” Emily flattened out the pages and handed them to the medium. “And he’s not here.”