The Haunting of Crawley House (The Hauntings Of Kingston Book 1)

by Dorey, Michelle

  She gave a small wave of her hand. “You’re on the clock now, Jeff. I need a room upstairs opened up which the previous owners closed off.”

  “Sure, I know what you’re talking about. I’ve been in this house lots of times.”

  She put her elbows on the table and leaned across to him. “And that’s another thing. It took me three phone calls to find a workman willing to come here!”

  His chin jutted out. “Those guys are pu—” he stopped. “Pansies. There’s a bunch of handymen, especially in this part of town, who won’t come to this address.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “Any chance you spoke with Allan Alder?”

  “Yes! He was the first person I called! He hung up on me when I gave him the address!”

  Jeff nodded. “Yeah, his listing’s first in the phone book. I’m thinking of changing my listing to ‘AAA’ Home Improvements or something. We worked together doing jobs for the university on a lot of the houses on this street.” His gaze went to the ceiling and walls of the kitchen. “He’s scared to come here because of the stories his grandpa told him about the place, when he was a boy.”

  “What stories?”

  Jeff leaned over the table and lifted his teacup taking a long slurp. “Ahhh! You make a good cuppa, Maureen.”

  “What stories, Jeff?”

  He sat back in his chair, interlacing his fingers on his rotund stomach. “I don’t really know, to tell you the truth. That sort of stuff gives me the willies, so I stay away from it.”

  “What sort of stuff?”

  “You know,” he brought his hands up beside his ears waving his fingers. “Booga-Booga-Boo kinds of stories.”

  “Like ghost stories?”

  “Yeah. Hauntings, spooks, things going bump in the night… stuff like that.” He shook his head a little bit. “I never went for those kinds of movies or TV shows. Casper the Friendly Ghost was scary enough for me.” He tilted his head at her and drummed his fingers on the table.

  “What?”

  He looked over his shoulder to the door leading to the backyard and peered through the window. He turned back to Maureen with a strange look. “It’s still there…”

  “What is?” Maureen leaned over the table to look out the window over his shoulder.

  “The swing on the maple tree.”

  “What about it?”

  “It’s got a creepy story.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded and silently took a sip of his tea. Placing his cup back on the tabletop, he said, “I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I’ve heard you can’t get rid of the swing, nor cut the tree down.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  He held his hands up, palms out. “Hey, it’s just what I heard!” He looked away from her gaze, and said, “I was told that by a guy who tried three times to take the swing down. Each time he did, it was back up the next day. And when he tried to cut the maple tree down, the first two times, his chainsaw wouldn’t work, and then his ax broke.” He shook his head. “I always thought Alan Alder was pulling my leg.”

  “The handyman who hung up on me.”

  “Yeah. He said it happened to him.” Jeff tilted his head at Maureen. “He told me the other stories too.”

  “What other stories?”

  Jeff pointed toward the side and front of the house. “The rosebushes. Same thing. You can pull them out all you want, chop them to pieces, whatever.”

  “And the next day…”

  “Yeah. They’d be right back the way they were.”

  They both stared at each other in silence. What frightened Maureen the most wasn’t the stories. What scared her more was how they somehow made sense.

  “Well… Allan grew up in this part of the city; just a couple of blocks from here to tell you the truth. So he’d know all the old tales and whatnot. But it’s the third story that’s the creepiest.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait to hear this one.” Actually she could; but there was no way Maureen was going to stop now.

  “Yeah… well… It seems the guy who built this house… murdered his wife here.”

  “What?!”

  “Yeah, happened years and years ago—sometime between the First and Second World Wars. They had some kind of fight or something, and he chased her all around the house and killed her upstairs.”

  “In that room? Is that why the room is closed off?” If that was the case, she was going to bunk in the living room from now on.

  “No... I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, I’ve done work in this house, you know. That bedroom at the top, it’s been closed off as long as I can remember. They wanted to open it up for more bedrooms, but weren’t able to. Some kind of regulations about fire codes; it’s on the third floor with no fire escape, so it stayed closed off.” He shrugged. “It’s too bad, because I’m pretty sure it’s a huge room up there.” He drummed his fingers again. “No… I think the murder occurred in a bedroom at the back of the house.”

  Maureen grew very still. “Why do you say that?”

  “Nobody likes sleeping in it.” His gaze went to the staircase. “Tenants who slept in it said it stank at night.” He shook his head with a small laugh. “I never smelled anything in that room, and I checked it out a bunch of times.” He made a gesture with his fingers pinched before his lips. “I think it’s a case of college kids overdoing the wacky tabacky if you ask me.”

  “A bad smell.”

  “Yep.”

  “Any bad smells in the room that’s closed off?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing that I had heard about.”

  When Jeff headed out to his truck for his toolbox, Maureen sat there shaking her head smiling at the absurdity of it all. She bought a creepy house, no question about it. At that moment, it dawned on her that not one of their neighbors had knocked on their door since they moved in. Not. One. In fact, aside from that old codger who walked past the house every day and stopped to stare at it—which, as far as she was concerned was a little ominous in and of itself—she had never seen anyone on the block they lived on. Nobody coming or going to work, no mailmen or deliveries… nothing.

  It was as if the neighborhood was holding its breath, waiting.

  She jumped, startled when Jeff came through the front door carrying his toolbox. Pearl barely yapped at him, and he bent down and scratched her behind the ears.

  “I’ll have that open in no time flat, Maureen,” he said. Will you want me back to install a door?”

  His matter-of-fact tone, going about his business, anchored her to the present. “Yes, any chance you can do that today?”

  “Sure; we’ll head up to Home Depot after I get this done. You can pick one out as well as the hardware.”

  “Sounds like a plan, Jeff.” She waggled her fingers beside her head. “Watch out for spooks!”

  “That’s the ticket,” he said with a snort. Hitching up his toolbox, he left the sun-bathed kitchen and Maureen refilled her teacup.

  Minutes later his body was spread at the bottom of the stairs with blood seeping from his head.

  Chapter 44

  Maureen watched from the veranda as Jeff hauled himself into his truck, started it and backed into the street, driving one handed. His right arm was bent at the elbow and resting in his lap. Neither of them were sure if his wrist was sprained or broken; he was going to the ER at Kingston General Hospital and have it looked at.

  Neither of them knew what had happened upstairs which caused Jeff to tumble down.

  He was out cold when Maureen reached him. He was prone on the staircase, as if he had gone body surfing down the steps. There was a cut over his eye which was bleeding. She shook him, calling his name until his eyelids fluttered open.

  “Ow-wow-wow-OW!” he said. He began to gather himself together, sliding his legs from the stairs down onto the landing.

  “Jeff! What in the world happened?”

  He looked at her, blinking his eyes slowly. His hand went to the c
ut and he rubbed the blood away and looked at it dumbly, before looking back up at Maureen.

  “Wha—wha—happened where?” he said, squinting his eyes at her. He pushed his face up toward hers and squinted again. “Maureen, right?”

  “Yes! Don’t move!” She leapt to her feet and ran into the kitchen. She grabbed the roll of paper towels and a dish towel. She ran the dish towel under the faucet, soaking one end of it and flew back to where Jeff was. By this time he was sitting up on the stair landing. She bent forward and wiped the blood from his eyebrow gently. The bleeding was already slowing down, but he was going to have one heck of a bruise. He sat there quietly as she cleaned him up, then grabbing the newel post, he struggled to his feet.

  Maureen stepped into him to help him up but he brushed her away.

  “If I can’t stand up on my own, I’m in really bad shape, Maureen.” When he got to his feet, he let go of the post. He wobbled for a second. “Can we sit down in the kitchen for a minute?”

  When they got to the kitchen table, he put his hands on the tabletop to support himself as he sat down and let out a yelp of pain.

  “Oh man, that hurts like a bitch!” he said. Tenderly, he rubbed his wrist with the opposite hand.

  “Oh dear, Jeff… is it broken?”

  He moved his fingers and sucked his breath in through his teeth. “I don’t think so, but it’s taken a hell of a shot,” he said, his voice husky. He turned to Maureen. “What the hell happened?”

  Her eyes flew open wide. “I don’t know! You headed upstairs to start the job and the next thing I know I hear you tumbling down!” She took a seat at the table and looked into his eyes. There was something in books she read that the pupils of his eyes should look strange if he had brain damage, but she didn’t have a clue what she ought to be doing right now. “Let me get you a glass of water,” she said, getting back up.

  “What’s that supposed to do?” he asked.

  “I don’t know! I’ve got to do something, don’t I?”

  “Just give me a minute to catch my breath, okay?” He twisted his hurt hand in front of his face, his teeth drawing back in a hiss. “I think I need to get this looked at.”

  “What happened?” She was filling a glass at the sink.

  His eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know… I went upstairs… and went to where the room was sealed off…” He lowered his head and closed one eye. “I remember tapping along the wall to make sure I was in the right spot. I put down my toolbox…” He looked up at Maureen. “And that’s it. The next thing I know, you’re shaking me.” He shook his head from side to side slowly. “I was out cold.” He picked up the glass of water and took a long sip. As he put the glass back down, he said, “I’ve never been out cold before in my life.”

  “My car’s out front, let me run you to the ER.”

  He gave a short wave. “No, no. That’s okay, Maureen. I’m okay. I’ll take my truck up there and see a doctor or something.” He finished the glass of water and stared at the glass in his hand. “I’ve never lost time like that though…” he said, his voice growing quiet.

  No matter what Maureen said, he refused to let her accompany him to the hospital. Mike had been just as headstrong that time he broke two ribs falling off a ladder. But with Mike it didn’t make any difference—she was his wife dammit, and so they had gone together. But she wasn’t anything but a customer of Jeff’s, and so had no rank to pull. She extracted a promise that he’d call her and let her know how he was later that evening, but that was all she could get from him.

  After he started the truck, he rolled the window down and motioned to her.

  When she stepped up to the truck, his face was pensive. She rested her hand on the edge of the doorframe.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who buys into all that spooky crap, Maureen.”

  She nodded, silently.

  “Two guys I’ve worked with think this house of yours is creepy. One of them thinks its haunted.” He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and she again kept her peace. “Something just happened in there.” His gaze rose from the steering wheel and he turned his head from side to side. “I don’t get it. It’s a beautiful, sunny day, but it feels odd right now.”

  She felt it too. “Close. It feels close.”

  He shot a look at her. “Yeah, like it’s really muggy or something… but it’s not hot, right?” He rubbed the bandage above his eye. “I mean, I can breathe and everything… but it feels like I should be gasping for air or something.”

  She felt it too. The air was pressing in on her like a heavy winter coat. “I feel it too, Jeff.”

  When she said that, his eyes went wide and he gaped around again. “It looks so… so normal…” Turning back to her, he said the last words in a whisper, “but it’s not.”

  She whispered back. “No. No, it isn’t.” Her gaze flitted up and down the street. It was completely empty. And completely still.

  “What the hell is going on here?” For the first time since he walked in the door, he sounded frightened.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up when she replied. “Something did happen here, Jeff. And I’m going to find out what.”

  Chapter 45

  “I get to go to school too, don’t I, Mommy?”

  Gillian and Sarah were walking home from the university. They had been there for a couple of hours while Gillian finalized her schedule and completed the registration process. There was an orientation week which was going to begin right after Labor Day, but she didn’t think she’d be a part of it. From what she read about orientation week at Queen’s University, it looked more like some sort of glorified daycare for eighteen-year-olds than anything a twenty-four-year-old single mother would be interested in.

  “Sure, moppet, you’ll be starting Kindergarten right after Labor Day, and I’ll start classes the following week.”

  Gillian was holding Sarah’s hand, while they walked through the park, a shortcut to their house.

  “Will Alice and Agnes be going to school too?”

  A chill went down her back when her daughter mentioned their names. “Well… maybe if you ask them, they can tell you, okay?” She had to admit it to herself—this imaginary friend stuff was bothering her.

  Since Sarah had started talking about her two companions, Gillian had kept an eye on her, looking for—well, more like feeling for—any other signs of five-year-old psychosis or something. The ‘drawing prodigy’ was overshadowed by Sarah’s two outbursts during the past week. She had been so normal before they moved here, but now her kid was getting—strange. She’d see how Sarah handled starting school before she’d get all worked up over it.

  The path took them to the corner of the street their house was on. They paused before crossing and Gillian saw that old man standing across from the house. She shook her head. Mom had pointed him out to her just the other day saying the old fart came and watched the place from the opposite side of the street every day.

  Get a life, Grandpa, you’re weirding me and my mom out. And we’ve got plenty of weird already, okay?

  He looked harmless enough from where she stood, so she decided to walk right past him and check him out up close. Then they would just cross the street and go inside. They crossed the street from the park onto the same sidewalk where the man was standing sentinel. Glancing at the driveway, she saw the car was gone. Mom was probably doing some errands or something.