by Kate Danley
"Go on, Red," Clara urged him.
"So if I wanted to keep it secret, I would buy something small, but expensive. Something valuable that would be easy to miss. Maybe something I could carry around with me," said Red.
Clara stood quietly and thought. It seemed an interesting theory… and a plausible one. She looked back up at Red and smiled. "What would I do without you?"
Red tipped his tall, black hat at her. "A pleasure to be of assistance. I'll just take Daisy ‘round back."
As he drove off, Clara looked at the house. There was a face in the window watching them. Minnie had taken an interest in their conversation. It was strangely comforting, Clara realized. Minnie only showed up when there was something crucial to pay attention to and it made Clara feel perhaps Red had figured it out. She looked back at where the cab driver had turned the corner. Minnie had been the one to indicate that Red needed to become a part of their household. Was it for this purpose? To put these pieces together?
Clara walked up towards the steps. What would Thomas have purchased? If he knew of the dangers of the Quatre Portes, what would have been worth the risk? Clara's hand rested on the door. Was it something they wanted or something they were afraid of? She rested her hand upon the frame of the door. It had to be something very powerful. She thought of how Minnie kept leading her to the safe, to the deed to the house. Was there another message there that Clara was missing?
She opened the door and walked into the black and white tiled foyer. Mrs. Nan came down the steps.
"Ah! Clara. I thought that I heard you coming in. Were you able to get in to see your Wesley?"
Clara looked at her ghostly housekeeper. "I was," Clara replied, taking off her hat and gloves. "If you will excuse me, Mrs. Nan, I am going to sort through some of the old belongings I brought with me."
Mrs. Nan gave Clara a strange look. "I believe they are all up in the attic. Is there anything you might be looking for?"
Clara looked back towards the rear of the house. "Red came up with a fascinating theory. He believed that my husband may have taken the money he stole and purchased a valuable object. Something small which might be difficult to spot."
The hallway of the house suddenly became bitingly cold. Clara clutched her arms around herself tightly as her teeth began to shiver. Mrs. Nan merely placed her hands on her hips and looked around the room crossly. "Now, Minnie, if you have something that needs saying, you just get right out here and say it. None of this mucking about."
The chandelier in the hallway began to sway and bounce up and down.
"Minnie, I am warning you! This is no way to treat your mistress! You have until the count of three and then I will be dismissing you from our household staff!" Though her face was stern, when Mrs. Nan registered the horror on Clara's face, she gave her a reassuring wink. "One! Two!.." The room returned to its normal temperature and the chandelier ceased its swaying. Clara was comforted that she could no longer see her breath before her face when she exhaled.
"Really!" said Clara. "Something has got Minnie quite agitated."
"I suppose you ought to go look through your husband's things if we hope to have any peace at all around here," said Mrs. Nan clucking.
Clara shook her head and made for the stairs. She stopped halfway, though, with her hand upon the railing. "Mrs. Nan?" Clara asked.
"Yes, dear?"
"Red has come around back and will be looking for some sustenance."
"Oh! I'll get right on that!"
"I was just wondering…" Clara's sentence trailed off as she tried to determine the most delicate way to broach the subject. "I was just wondering if it would be appropriate to inform him of your current state…"
Mrs. Nan sighed. "Oh, I know we are going to have to cross that bridge soon. But not yet, duck. The time will reveal itself soon enough."
"You being… not entirely of this world is nothing to be ashamed of," said Clara.
"It is not that!" assured Mrs. Nan. "Nor do I think that Red is an untrustworthy person. He has proven his worth more times than I can count! It is just that these things take time and we'll know when he needs to be brought into our confidence."
"Very well," said Clara, returning to her upstairs journey. "I am sure you have much better judgment about these things than I do. Now, if you will excuse me."
"Happy hunting!" said Mrs. Nan. She began to laugh to herself. "I almost said 'haunting'. I suppose that also is something best left up to me."
Clara smiled as Mrs. Nan walked away. She looked up the staircase and was filled with a sense of dark foreboding. What was it that her husband brought into the house? What had caused Minnie such distress?
Clara went up into the upper hallway. She passed by the cold spot where she knew Minnie lurked. "I promise I shall find it, Minnie," she reassured the ghost. The spot seemed to get slightly colder in response, but Minnie did not make any appearance.
Clara continued on. There was a doorway on the left which led up to the attic. She realized that she had not ever fully explored the house. She placed her hand on the doorknob and once again was filled with a thrill of foreboding. What waited for her in her husband's things?
The door opened with a creak. The risers of the wooden stairs were unfinished and rough. The railing was no more than a piece of timber. The dormer windows allowed in dim light at the top. Clara took a deep breath and proceeded up to the attic.
She sneezed as she stepped into the room. The ceiling was low and sloped on the sides. The exposed beams did little to protect from the outside elements, but she knew the cold was not entirely due to the outside climate.
She had rid herself of almost everything Thomas had owned, hoping that somehow by not remembering, she would forget the pain. It had not worked. She kept only a single box of his mementoes. It had been placed in front of the farthest window. Though unmarked, she knew it by sight. Dread filled every footstep as she walked closer. She placed her hand upon the lid. Part of her heart told her to turn and leave, to leave well enough alone to molder unforgotten in its crate. And part of her heart told her that she had no choice.
She yanked on the wooden lid of the crate and then yanked again. It came off with force. Inside were just odds and ends. Items utterly worthless to the rest of the world, but represented the memories of their time together. A ticket to the county fair. A program to a theatrical production of Hamlet. A few love letters she could not bear to throw away. His housecoat.
It was his housecoat that drew her attention. She pulled it out of the crate, stroking its burgundy velvet. She held it to her nose. His scent was there for a single breath, and then faded when she tried to drink him in. Nothing. There was nothing here that was of any value to anyone but her. She put the coat back into the crate with frustration. Why had Minnie seen it fit to direct her here when there was nothing to be found?
It was then that her eyes fell upon Thomas's shaving kit. She had bought it for him for their first anniversary. It was a fine leather bag that fastened shut with brass fasteners. She had scrimped and saved on her household money to buy the bristle brush made of bone and silver razor. She had not actually opened the bag when she packed it. It smelled too much of him and the memories had been too overwhelming. She just put it in the crate and told herself she could sell it someday.
But this time, she turned the little metal fasteners and looked inside. It gave off that same familiar smell that she had been without too long. But in addition to his things, his aftershave and his soap, there was a square box. She reached in and pulled it out.
The box was royal blue in color and embossed in gold with the familiar four door symbol. She lifted the lid. Inside was the largest square emerald she had ever seen in her life. It was the size of a plum with perfect clarity. She gently touched it.
"STOP!" Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard screamed.
Clara fell back, terrified, dropping the box. The emerald rolled across the floor. Mrs. Nan, Mr. Willard, and Minnie were now in the attic with her, but acti
ng very peculiar. All three ghosts paced small circles of the floor like caged tigers. They pounded the air in front of them as if they were enclosed in some sort of invisible jail cell.
"What happened?" Clara asked.
"You called us!" they all said in unison. Even Minnie's voice joined the chorus.
Clara realized there was something horribly wrong about the emerald. She ran over and picked it up. "Stay right there!" she said to all of them.
It was as if she had given them a military order. They all immediately froze, standing completely still with their arms at their sides. Clara jammed the emerald back into the box and closed the lid. She threw it back into the crate and put the wooden top back in place as quickly as possible.
It was as if the entire house released a giant sigh. Minnie, Mr. Willard, and Mrs. Nan slowly were released from the grip of whatever held them. Minnie disappeared completely into thin air, her eyes wide and frightened. Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard fell to their knees in exhaustion.
"My god," Clara said. "What was that thing?"
11
"Are you well?" Clara asked, rushing forward to Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard. Both their outlines were as faded as they became when she had not been in the house for a time.
"I feel a bit weak, ma'am," confessed Mr. Willard.
Clara knew that when a man like Mr. Willard admitted to something making him feel a "bit weak", the situation was indeed dire.
"What can I do?" Clara asked, grasping his arm.
"Nothing to be done," said Mrs. Nan, her hand upon her bosom, as if trying to catch her breath. "Perhaps it might be best if we sit down, though."
Clara took them both by the arm, allowing them to each lean on either side of her. Their ghostly shapes were much too light and Clara found herself wondering what she would do if they ever disappeared from her life.
She helped them out of the attic, down the stairs, and into the parlor. She deposited them both on the couch. The fact neither of them made any protest gave Clara even more cause for concern.
What had her husband done? she wondered. Where had he gotten that gem? Was it with the money he stole from the Quatre Portes? She could think of no other explanation. They were not wealthy enough for him to have purchased an emerald of that size as a gift for her, and the fact it held such power made Clara believe, in light of recent events, that Thomas had known exactly what it was. Clara realized she was now the steward of this secret treasure and knew that her life depended on not allowing anyone else to know what lay upstairs in the attic.
"How did that stone get here?" asked Mrs. Nan interrupting Clara's thoughts.
Clara shook her head and walked over to the fire, poking at the embers until a warm glow filled the hearth. "I believe my husband purchased it with money he stole from Peter Nero." Clara looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. "Where he actually got the stone, though, is beyond me."
Mrs. Nan and Mr. Willard exchanged glances. Mrs. Nan still seemed out of breath, despite being a ghost and not needing to breathe. "That thing is terrible. I hope that there are not other emeralds like it around."
Clara thought who might be able to help her. "We made an acquaintance with Dr. Van Flemming…"
"Ah! That poor man with that cursed mummy in his basement." Mrs. Nan clucked her tongue like having a cursed mummy in one's basement was as unfortunate a decision as wearing a morning coat to dinner.
"He worked at the natural history museum," continued Clara. "Perhaps he has friends who are familiar with famous gems and might be able to direct me towards the emerald's history."
"Please do be careful," Mr. Willard cautioned in his rumbling voice. "That thing held such power, I should be frightened if someone with a cruel heart wielded it."
Clara sat down on one of the chairs. "What exactly did it do to you?" asked Clara. Immediately she apologized for having to make them relive it over again in their memories. "I only ask so that I can describe it to Dr. Van Flemming."
Mrs. Nan shivered. "The moment you touched it, it was as if we were nothing but wee kittens, and our mother had grabbed us up by the scruff of the neck and delivered us where she wanted us to go. And then that moment when you told us to be still, why, it was as if someone had put a straight jacket on us. There was no fighting this power."
"Imagine it in the wrong hands!" said Mr. Willard. "The ability to control an army of ghosts! Especially those like us who are solid enough to take form."
Mrs. Nan clucked her tongue. "It is a terrifying thought. That gemstone is a fearful thing."
12
The door to Dr. Van Flemming's house opened. His crotchety old housekeeper looked at Clara up and down. "Thought I had seen the last of the likes of you."
"Please let Dr. Van Flemming know I am here. I have come to check in on him," said Clara.
The bent old woman shuffled off down the hall, passing the stacks of books and papers in the hallway slowly. Several minutes passed and she shuffled back again. She gave a wave of her hand, not even bothering to go the whole way to the front door. "Come in then. Watch you don't track any mud on my clean floors."
Clara looked down at the carpet. It had a layer of gray dust over what was probably once a burgundy pile. Clara wondered if clean meant anytime in the past century. The housekeeper coughed a wracking, phlegmy cough.
Clara walked down the hallway and into Dr. Van Flemming's office. It actually appeared to have undergone a bit of a transition, and Clara realized why.
Standing by the window was the actress Pauline who had been possessed by the Egyptian Queen's curse. Dr. Van Flemming had held a candle for her, and from the way she glanced at Dr. Van Flemming, Clara deduced that perhaps the feelings had evolved to become mutual.
"Dr. Van Flemming! Pauline!" Clara said coming in. "How delightful to see both of you!"
"Come to destroy more of my life's work?" said Dr. Van Flemming.
"Shut your trap," chided Pauline affectionately.
"The correct words would be 'hush, please'," Dr. Van Flemming corrected her.
"Well, then hush your trap," She reached out to Clara. "Delighted to see you again. He's been helping me with my words and stuff."
"I supposed I do have you to thank," said Dr. Van Flemming.
"For what?" Clara asked.
"With Dr. Mallfeld's death, the museum was in need of someone to head his department and I have finally been able to introduce some real science in that place, outside of the flim-flammery that he was espousing."
"How lovely!" said Clara, not entirely sure what the correct response should be. "Congratulations."
"And he hired me to help him sort through his research here at the house and decide what needs to go to his office at the museum," said Pauline with a wink.
Dr. Van Flemming got a faraway look in his eyes, as if enraptured with the thought of his impact. "I'm sure it will be a great boon to the scientists there to have all my work there to inform their studies. One must ensure that they build their ideas off the backs of giants."
"So true," Clara said with a smile.
"Now, how can I be of assistance?" Dr. Van Flemming asked, "Because we really must be getting back to things."
From the way he was looking at Pauline, Clara wondered if their work was entirely of the scientific variety. But no matter.
"I am afraid that I must seek your assistance. Do you have any familiarity with famous gemstones?"
Dr. Van Flemming sighed. "Oh, why is it that everyone is always so interested in gemstones? Merely shiny rocks which reflect back the light and all of you female types go weak in the knees!"
Clara breathed deeply. Dr. Van Flemming had never been one for tact. "I am afraid that I am interested more in the history of a particular stone," she said.
"Ah! Well, that is a horse of a different color!" he replied, suddenly leaning forward with great interest.
"I am looking for the history of a large emerald," said Clara.
"I've always been partial to emeralds," said Pauline, meaningfully
to Dr. Van Flemming.
"This one has some superstition surrounding it," continued Clara.
Dr. Van Flemming rubbed his chin. "Superstition, you say?"
"Yes," said Clara. "Something akin to those scarabs and how they were used to hold a mummy's heart in place."
She saw that her thinly veiled allusions were not lost on her audience.
"You say like a scarab?" said Dr. Van Flemming. Pauline walked over and stood behind him, gripping his shoulder tightly.
"This emerald," said Clara, "perhaps may have been surrounded by rumors that it could control the dead."
Dr. Van Flemming got up and walked over to his shelves. "You are so fortunate that we had not sent all of my books off. Pauline, I feel very strongly that we should keep more at the house…"
Pauline rolled her eyes and Clara could tell she was concerned Dr. Van Flemming might use this incident as his excuse to hang onto his hoard.
The man ran his hand over several books, and then ran over to another shelf. He did not seem to find what he was looking for because he ran over to his stacks and began digging. Finally, he pulled out a black bound notebook and flipped through. He stopped on a page and nodded.
"I am pleased that my facilities have not completely abandoned me."
"Pardon?" asked Clara.
"He means that he's glad he's so smart," said Pauline, leaning against his desk with her hand upon her hip.
Dr. Van Flemming glared at her before turning back to Clara. "What I mean is that of all of the Egyptologists you could have been acquainted with, you are very fortunate that you associate with me."
Clara wondered how much of a coincidence it was that their paths had crossed. Between Thomas and Minnie, she felt as if lately every footstep she took was divinely guided.
"There was an emerald dug up from a tomb in the Valley of the Kings. According to the hieroglyphs we discovered on the wall, this emerald was rumored to have been able to control the dead. It was attached to a staff, which looks like this." Dr. Van Flemming turned his notebook over to Clara and showed her an Egyptian holding a stick. The top of the stick was shaped like a flaring cobra and held between the tips of his fangs was an emerald. "It allowed the user to focus their thoughts and control the dead. We believe that it was owned by a high priest of the era."