The Ghosts of Centre Street: A Haunting of Kingston (The Hauntings of Kingston Book 3)

by Michelle Dorey

  Myra smiled. “It shrunk a bit. Not too much, but it could use some taking out.”

  He gave a small wave and grin. “That’s the cigarettes. Two years off the butts and I really didn’t put that much weight on.” He brushed off his sleeve. “Pretty fly if you ask me. And considering that I spend my entire workday on my ass behind the wheel of a cab, pretty good.”

  Myra laughed. “Yeah. Right. Me kicking you out of the apartment every night to go for a half hour walk has nothing to do with it!” She lay back on the bed and pointed to her belly. “Time for the checkup.”

  “No problem.” He stepped over to the bed and laid his hand on her stomach. He smiled. “She says ‘Yo, mama’”

  Myra’s eyes flew open wide. “Really? She knows we’re here? Ohmygod!”

  He burst out laughing. “No! I’m just kidding! She’s asleep. She’s pretty much always asleep. And even when she’s awake, it’s like she’s dozing.”

  Myra thumped him in the shoulder. “Funny guy. You really got me.” She sat back up. “I’m glad that you’re using your touch again, Barry. It makes me feel good to know that you can sense her.”

  He never told her that he had sensed the previous two pregnancies that had ended in miscarriage. As soon as he felt Myra quicken, he knew those poor things were doomed. Instead, he nodded back to her. “Yeah, well...this one’s a keeper, and I don’t mind getting to know her early on.”

  Myra rubbed her stomach. “Early on? That’s an understatement.” She cocked her head at him. “You know it’s funny. It’s the first time since you told me about the touch that you’ve ever let me see you use it.”

  “I know.” He sat on the bed and slipped his shoes on.

  “Think you’ll use it more?” She bobbed her eyebrows at him. “You know, we can go to the casino and make a killing at roulette or something.”

  He laughed. “That has never worked for me!” He spread out his arms. “If it did, you think we’d be living in this dump?” Since they found out about Myra being pregnant, two days ago, their cozy ‘love nest’ of a one bedroom apartment had become almost claustrophobic to him. They barely had enough money salted away to move into a nice two bedroom in one of the newer high rises, and with Myra being two months along he was going to have to drive extra shifts and stretch out his other days. She wasn’t going to get much of a maternity leave from her waitress job.

  Myra nodded. “Yeah, I know; but still a gal’s gotta hope, right?”

  He patted her leg. “We’ll be okay. It’s a pretty good life so far, isn’t it?” The last eight years had been the happiest of his life, ever since their first date.

  She made a face and shrugged. “Doesn’t suck.”

  He barked a laugh and stood up. “And with that glowing testament, I shall take your leave!”

  Closing the apartment door and shrugging into his overcoat, the smell of cigarettes wafted in the air of the narrow hall and stairwell. The muscle in his jaw tightened. They really needed to move to a new place soon. The cigarette smell was so wrong. Sure he quit smoking, but there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t miss the old treacherous friend. He certainly didn’t want his daughter exposed to it.

  Outside, the day was typical November, grey and bleak, threatening rain—perfect for a funeral. He got into his taxi and started the engine. Stella. He sighed and drove out from the parking lot onto the street and headed towards Reid’s Funeral Home over on Johnson Street.

  ***

  The funeral, if that’s what one could call it, was as sad and forlorn as the cold autumn day. There was just himself and Stella’s lawyer, an older Asian man--Jack Chang. Barry knew the guy; he was fairly active in issues around the city, popping up at fund raisers for the United Way, Big Brothers and Sisters and other charities. His office was over on King Street in the older, gentrified part of the city.

  The two men shook hands in the viewing room before Stella’s casket and made their introductions.

  “Did you know Ms. Braithwaite very long?” the lawyer asked.

  “About three years or so,” Barry felt a little embarrassed. “I’m her favorite cabby, but that’s all.”

  “I see, I see,” the guy said, nodding. “Are you sure? Three years?” He was a slight guy, and peered up at Barry through his eyeglasses, tilting his head in curiosity.

  “Yeah, pretty sure. Maybe a little longer.” Barry shrugged. “I’ve only been driving a cab for the last four years— ever since those guys closed the old DuPont plant, you know?”

  “I see...” Jack looked puzzled.

  “What’s the big deal?” The expression on the lawyer’s face had gone from curiosity to outright puzzlement as he stroked his chin.

  “But no more than four years, correct?”

  “That’s right.” Barry put his hands on his waist.

  Chang looked down at his feet. “Very curious.”

  “Hey, Mr. Chang, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, I suppose.” Chang shrugged. “I’ll explain after the services. You know we need to return to my office after the interment, right?”

  “Yeah, you told me that yesterday. Thanks for letting me know about the funeral.” Barry held up a hand for a moment. “By the way, how did you get my cell phone number to get hold of me anyway?”

  Chang tilted his chin at Stella’s coffin. “Ms. Braithwaite stopped in my office the week before she passed away with the information.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  At that point, the funeral director came into the visiting room. He introduced himself and told them that there would be no prayers, eulogy or any such ritual. Misters Chang and Ryan were the only mourners expected per Ms. Braithwaite’s instruction, and when they arrived they were to immediately proceed to the cemetery.

  “That’s it?” said Barry. “Sounds kind of cold if you ask me.”

  “Those were her instructions, Sir,” the mortician said, holding out his hands palm up. “At least we can respect her final wishes, right?”

  “I guess.” Barry stepped over to where the plain casket rested. He placed his hand on the burnished maple surface. “If that’s what you want toots, it’s fine by me,” he said patting it. “Just for the record, I’m gonna miss you.” His breath hitched. He really liked the old woman; more than he knew until she died. God damn it.

  Watch your language young man!

  His head jerked up and he looked around. There was just the lawyer and undertaker standing there. He turned back to the coffin and said in the lowest of whispers, “Holy shit.”

  Barry! A little respect for the dearly departed! Say doodle!

  A tear formed in the corner of his eye when he heard the smile in that voice. “Holy doodle.” He turned to the two men. “Okay, let’s get this show on the road, okay?”

  As they wheeled the casket to the waiting hearse, his heart was light.

  ****

  At the gravesite, there were no prayers nor last words other than Chang saying ‘May she rest in peace’. After the attendants lowered the casket into the ground, Barry took a handful of earth that was piled at the side of the grave and threw it in.

  Bye, toots.

  I’ll see you around, big boy.

  He snorted and he and Chang headed to their cars. They would meet at Jack’s law office for the reading of the will.

  ****

  When he got out of the car, he noticed a guy in a dark overcoat step over to Mr. Chang at the entrance, extending his hand. Barry’s eyes narrowed watching the burly man talk at the old lawyer, his face flushed and angry, towering over the shorter man. It looked like Stella wasn’t exactly telling the truth when she said she had no relatives.

  As he walked up to the two men, he reached out with the touch. The weasel in the dark coat smelled money and was there to make sure he got his share. Barry’s gut tightened watching him. He seemed familiar somehow but he was sure he’d never met him before. His eyes narrowed. There was something bad about that guy. The three men entered the office.

&nb
sp; “It will take me a few minutes to prepare everything,” Mr. Chang said. “Make yourselves comfortable, please.” He stepped from the waiting room into his office.

  ****

  Gordon Braithwaite filled the chair in the waiting room at John Chang’s office. Barry, sitting across from him picked up a Yachting magazine and pretended to skim through it. Chang had introduced them at door and Gordon had barely acknowledged him, preferring to bend the lawyer’s ear with his puffery and self righteousness. It was obvious from the way the guy fidgeted in his seat, emitting long loud sighs that he was impatient with the whole thing. Just give him the money and he’d be off in a shot.

  The middle aged secretary sitting behind the high counter peered over her glasses and cleared her throat before speaking. “Mr. Chang will see you gentlemen now.”

  Before they were even on their feet, John Chang appeared in the crack of the door, giving a small nod of his head before disappearing inside.

  Gordon brushed by Barry, knocking his shoulder in the process and not even bothering to say he was sorry or ‘excuse me’. Barry’s jaw muscle worked as he walked by the secretary, following the rude hulk into Chang’s inner lair. If the occasion wasn’t so solemn, he’d be tempted to jostle him right back or say something sarcastic but for now, he’d just let it go.

  The guy was almost as tall as Barry’s six foot four, but where Barry was downright skinny, this guy had spent a lot of time making friends with the Burger King. His grey hair was slicked back and his gut billowed over the belt of cheap slacks. Barry could smell the booze on the guy’s breath and it wasn’t even ten in the morning. He shook his head and followed the oaf into the private chambers.

  He lowered into an empty chair, noting that Gordon was perched close to Chang’s desk, straining forward to scan the sets of paper on the worn, wooden surface.

  Barry’s eyes met Mr. Chang’s for a moment, before the lawyer cleared his throat to begin. “I knew Stella Braithwaite for a number of years. She was both a client and a friend. She drew up her last will and testament ten years ago and was here just last week to ensure everything was in order.” Again he shot a look at Barry that was puzzled. His nimble tan fingers pushed the two sets of documents towards Barry and Gordon.

  Barry reached for them and sat back, his eyes focused on the official document.

  Beside him Gordon blurted, “Just give us the Coles notes version. What did she leave me?” He tapped the papers and shoved them back at the elderly lawyer.

  For a moment the lawyer’s mouth fell open and even in the leathered, dark face, the flush of red in his cheeks was obvious. His words were clipped when he spoke. “Very well, Mr. Braithwaite.” He took a deep breath and the corners of his lips twitched. “Stella left the bulk of her estate to Mr. Ryan. You receive one dollar, ensuring that as a blood relative, your interests were considered in her decision.”

  Gordon burst out of his chair. “What the hell? She can’t do that!” Braithwaite looked like he was about to explode, his face a peppery red and voice booming in the small office.

  Barry paid little attention to the big lout beside him, the blood was roaring in his ears from what he'd just read on his copy of the will. He sat still, his hands shaking as he scanned the clauses and his eyes locked on the amount of money, written in bold font. Two million dollars!

  Gordon was still blustering, arguing with the lawyer, threatening to lodge a complaint with the bar association, go to the Supreme Court, the press, anything, while Jack Chang countered each threat in a soft-spoken, rational voice.

  It was a dull backdrop to the shock waves rippling through Barry’s body.

  He’d suspected she had a nest egg but this...this was way over the top. It was also the answer to their problems! They could afford a nice apartment. Hell! Even a house with that kind of money! Someplace nice with a back yard and mature trees for a swing and...

  “Bloody shyster!" Gordon, now screaming, broke through Barry's daydream. "How much of a kick-back do you get from this clown here?”

  Thud! The chair next to Barry, toppled onto the floor making Barry startle. Gordon towered high, bent over the desk like a gargoyle, the knuckles of his fists pressing against the dark wood.

  Gordon turned to Barry, “As for you, ya goof, don’t spend that money, yet!” Gordon stepped by him and continued the loud harangue from the doorway. “You’re not dealing with just anybody here. I know people, lawyers and judges, important people. I’ve worked in the penitentiary for forty years! It’s filled with con artists like you two. You won’t get away with this!” He stepped out into the hallway and slammed the door so hard the window across the room shook.

  Jack Chang sat there, his hands trembling. “I’m having a hard time being inscrutable, you know. What a prick!”

  Barry stood and put the chair back in place. “No wonder Stella didn’t leave him anything.” He sat back down in his own chair.

  “Stella warned me her nephew, Gordon Braithwaite, would try to make trouble.” Jack Chang sighed. He leaned over the top of his desk. “Now, Mr. Ryan, she set a condition in order for you to make claim of the inheritance.” He opened the black laptop computer on the side of his desk and peered down his nose eyeing the screen while his fingers tapped, booting the machine to life.

  Barry’s shoulders slumped and he pulled his chair closer to the desk, trying to keep the disappointment from showing on his face. Of course. The money had been too good to be true. There had to be strings attached.

  The lawyer’s sharp brown eyes flickered to Barry for a moment and he continued. “She had me videotape her as she explained the terms.” He looked sharply at Barry in silence for a full thirty seconds. “I had to transfer the tape to my computer a while ago, but it is still valid. Ms. Braithwaite and I watched it together just last week.”

  Finally, he took a deep breath and turned the screen so that Barry could see it. As he clicked the icon, starting the recording, he mumbled softly. “A bit unusual, but entirely legal.”

  Stella’s pale face, framed by her white hair filled the screen and for a moment she looked scared, her gaze darting past the focus of the camera to something behind the person filming. “Am I on? Is this thing working?”

  “Could you pause for a second?” Barry asked. When Jack pressed the button, he leaned forward to the screen. Stella looked terrific! She must have gone to a salon or something before making the tape. She looked years younger than his last memory of her. He shook his head. “Women, huh?” He smiled at Jack.

  “I suppose. May I continue?” When Barry nodded, he pressed the button again and the recording continued.

  On the screen, at the soft assent of the lawyer, Stella sat straighter and managed a small smile. “Barry, if you’re seeing this, then I won’t be needing any cab rides to the quack anymore.”

  Barry’s throat became tight and he swallowed hard, fighting a tear. He was trying to be strong—as strong and light-hearted as Stella recording this, had been. Her doctor’s appointments on Tuesdays, the wisdom and humor in her blue eyes, her kindness...all gone now. Even the expression she always used—holy doodle—not holy cow or holy mackerel—was quirky. She was like an ancient, eccentric aunt who brought a spark of joy to his day.

  “I am leaving my house and money to you, Barry. For over sixty years I have lived there. It’s a beautiful home but it’s also...” She sighed and looked away for a moment before continuing. “...also unique. I first came to live there when my aunt became ill. Aunt Evelyn had the ‘second sight’, and she wanted me to continue living in the house after she passed.”

  Her chin rose higher and a look of determination was in her piercing eyes. “It’s imperative that a person with the ‘sight’ live there. I have left the cash in my estate... to be dispersed to you upon the completion of a year that you reside in the house.”

  She chuckled and once more her gaze drifted higher, looking past the camera. “Listen to me. Ha! I’m starting to sound like a lawyer, Jack. You’re a bad influence.”r />
  The lawyer sitting behind his desk, dropped his gaze and his hand rubbed the back of his neck. There was a small smile on his face. He was probably remembering the recording session with Stella. She’d been such a tease.

  “In plain language, live there for a year and the money’s yours, Barry. I’m confident that you and your family will be happy there. You won’t want to leave, just like I never did. The house sits on very powerful land.” She chuckled. “Some would say hallowed ground but I was never much into that kind of thing.”

  Barry glanced over at the lawyer to see if he showed any sign of understanding. ‘hallowed ground’? The lawyer shrugged and shook his head.

  Stella’s voice continued and Barry turned back to the screen.

  “I can picture the bewildered look on your face and wish I were there right now to give you a poke in the ribs. Just trust me for now on this. As you live in the house over time, things will become clearer. You’ll see.”

  She leaned closer to the camera and her eyes were intense. “The house needs you as much as you need the house.” Her smile was like the burst of sunshine behind a bank of clouds. “Remember, my body may be dead, but energy cannot be destroyed. It just changes.” With a final smile, she said in the Mae West voice she had used so often in his cab; her last words were “See you around, big boy.”

  The recording ended and Barry wiped his eyes and looked up to see Mr. Chang again watching him closely.

  “What! What’s your problem! I never did nor said a single thing for her to do that!” he said. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  Jack tapped the surface of his desk, his chin resting in his hand. “You met her for the first time just four years ago.”

  “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “When you were a boy, did you mow her lawn or deliver her newspapers?”

  “What? No! I didn’t grow up in that part of the city!”

  Jack shook his head. “Very curious.”

  “You said that back at the funeral home. What’s your problem?”

  Jack tapped the side of his computer. “I made the original recording with a video camera.”