Case of the Highland House Haunting

by Jeffrey M. Poole

  “Are you talking about those big carved things up there in the corner?” I asked.

  Jillian nodded, “Yes! I think they’re spectacular. What about the windows? Do you see how the first floor windows are so much larger than the second’s?”

  “Now that you mention it, I do.”

  “That means this house has a piano nobile. It means the first floor contains the principal reception and main bedrooms of the house.”

  “How do you know so much about this stuff?” I incredulously asked.

  I set both dogs on the ground and, together, we stepped away from my Jeep. As we slowly walked up the steps of the house, I noticed some scaffolding along the left side of the house. How far it extended, I didn’t know. A quick check on the right confirmed that the scaffolding didn’t extend all the way around. An ambulance and two fire trucks were parked along the street and thanks to the front door being wide open, I could see uniformed medics walking around inside. A familiar form materialized in front of me, and he was holding a notebook.

  “Hey there, Zack. Hello, Jillian.”

  “No offense, Vance,” I began, “but you are not a sight for sore eyes.”

  Vance Samuelson is one of my good friends here in town. He just so happens to be a detective in the Pomme Valley Police Department. We first met when he, er, arrested me for murder. Yes, it was mistake. No, I didn’t do it. Thankfully, that’s a story I’ve already told, and don’t need to tell again. Sure, I can laugh now, but I wasn’t back then. Vance was also solely responsible for getting me involved with solving criminal cases. Well, getting the dogs involved, that is. Vance is a few years younger than me, has sandy brown hair, and is a few inches shorter as well.

  Vance nodded, “No offense taken. It’s mandatory, I’m afraid. Plus, in situations like these, an inspector has to come and check everything out. See if he can determine what was responsible, that sort of thing.”

  “I understand,” Jillian said.

  “It was just an accident, wasn’t it?” I asked, as I looked up at my friend. “Tell me you came over here for no reason.”

  “That’s what I’m waiting for the inspector to tell me. He arrived about fifteen minutes ago and is presently somewhere inside the house.”

  “Where’d the accident happen?” I asked. “And did they… er, have they removed the, uh…”

  Vance hooked a thumb towards the rear of the house.

  “It happened outside, on the other side of the house. It had something to do with the scaffolding. That’s all anyone has told me for now. And yes, Zack, the dead body has been removed.”

  Feeling tugs on the leashes, I looked down. Knowing Sherlock and Watson as well as I do, I assumed they’d want to go check out the area around back where the accident had occurred. But, did they? Nope. Sherlock wanted to go inside. In a matter of moments, both dogs morphed into their Clydesdale likenesses and tried to forcefully take me to where they wanted to go.

  “Knock it off, you two. This isn’t pre-meditated murder. It’s only an accident.”

  How wrong I was. More on that in just a bit.

  We looked at the overall activity of the house itself. Well, what we could see through the doorway, that is. Sherlock tugged on his leash, as though he expected to be allowed into the house to begin his own investigation. Watson, for her part, had apparently tired of waiting for us to do something, so she stretched out on the porch and was content to watch what was happening from the ground.

  A short, muscular Hispanic guy in his mid-thirties appeared in the doorway. He was wearing blue overalls, a belt full of tools around his waist, an orange safety jacket, and a bright yellow hard hat. He noticed Jillian standing next to me and hurried over to her side, taking off his hat as he exited the house.

  “Ms. Cooper,” the man hesitantly began, “I can’t even begin to imagine how to explain what happened.”

  Ah. This had to be Robert, the Foreman. I held out a hand.

  “Zack Anderson,” I said, introducing myself. “You’re Robert? Can you tell us what happened?”

  Robert sighed heavily, ran a hand down his face, and then noticed I was holding leashes. His gaze traveled down to land on the dogs. A brief smile appeared on his face as he squatted down to give the corgis a few pats on their heads.

  “I know who you are, Mr. Anderson. I’ve heard a lot about you, sir. And, of course, these two are Sherlock and Watson.”

  Upon hearing her name, Watson rose to her feet.

  “Robert Sanchez. I’m the foreman here.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Robert. I wish it was under better circumstances.”

  “You and me both,” Robert muttered. “I love your wine. My wife, too.”

  I nodded appreciatively.

  “What happened? Do you know?”

  Robert looked back at Jillian and his face hardened.

  “First off, Ms. Cooper, I want to let you know that I take everyone’s safety seriously. All safety protocols have been observed. I go through and check everything, and I do mean everything twice a day: first thing in the morning, and again at night, when everyone leaves.”

  “Was it another electrocution?” Jillian quietly asked.

  Robert shook his head, “No. It was nothing like that. And even then, the electrical circuits were not overloaded. The inspector insisted it was faulty wiring on the band saw’s plug, but I know for a fact that there was nothing wrong with it earlier in the day. As for today, it was the scaffolding. It collapsed.”

  “It collapsed?” I repeated, puzzled. “Aren’t there safety precautions in place to prevent such a thing from happening?”

  “Yes,” Robert reported.

  “By chance, was it overloaded?” Jillian asked.

  Robert vehemently shook his head, “Nowhere close, ma’am. I only had one guy up there, and he was working on removing the siding from the house. You should know, those scaffolds are rated to hold 875 lbs. That’s the equivalent of 3 guys weighing approximately 250 lbs. each and 125 lbs. of supplies.”

  “If he was removing siding,” I began, “then he might have had a few tools, but probably nothing else. It couldn’t possibly have been a weight issue.”

  Robert nodded, and gave me a thumbs up, “My sentiments exactly. Thank you.”

  A string of men began exiting the building. Tool belts were draped over their shoulders and a various mix of power tools were seen clutched in their hands.

  “Hey!” Robert called, as the men filed past us. “What are you guys doing? Where do you think you are going?”

  “You can keep your pay,” one man flatly stated, without bothering to turn around. “Life is too short, pal. I’ll find work elsewhere.”

  “This was an accident,” Robert called back. “Plain and simple!”

  One of the men, a dark-skinned man in his fifties, stopped in front of Robert and apologetically shook his hand.

  “I’m sorry, sir. I have to side with the guys. This was no accident. Scaffolding doesn’t just collapse like that.”

  “What do you mean?” I wanted to know.

  The contractor looked at me and then set his tools down. He noticed the two dogs staring up and him and gave each of them a friendly scratching behind their ears. I swear both dogs drooled a little.

  “If you think about how the scaffolding is assembled,” the worker began, “then you should have an idea how difficult it’d be to have it collapse, like a house of cards. The outer frames have reinforced welds to prevent breakage. There are crossbars in place to help keep it steady and secure. The planking is bolted in place so there’s no chance of it moving around when you’re walking. So, of all the scaffolding accidents I’ve ever heard about, none of it has ever collapsed straight down like that. Maybe a single weld might break, or perhaps a board snaps in half, but it’s rare. This? No, this thing collapsed inward, as though all the supports gave out at the same time. It’s like buying a new car and having everything go out on it at the same time. It just doesn’t happen. This is something I won’
t ever forget for as long as I live.”

  “And you saw the collapse happen?” Vance skeptically asked. “How, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  The contractor turned to point up at the top of the house.

  “I’m a roofer. I was called in to check the status of the slate roof. I was up there, inspecting several of the tiles. I knew someone was just below me, on the scaffolding, but he wasn’t on my team, so I paid him no mind. I had just discovered a couple of broken tiles, so I looked over the edge to see if my partner was still on the ground, watching me. And he wasn’t, by the way. That’s when it happened. The scaffolding shuddered, and then collapsed straight down.”

  “Where was your partner?” Robert suddenly asked, frowning. “He shouldn’t have left you alone like that. But, perhaps he spotted something?”

  “I already asked. The damn fool decided to take a bathroom break, with me on the roof. Oh, I gave him hell for it and I’ll be reporting him to my boss. We don’t screw around with safety.”

  I surreptitiously glanced at Vance and noticed he was jotting a few notes into his notebook.

  “What do you think happened to it to cause it to collapse the way it did?” I asked. “It sounds to me as though you have an opinion.”

  The roofer turned to watch the stream of workers file out of the house.

  “I think the same thing they’re all thinking.”

  “And what’s that?” Jillian quietly asked, as though she knew the answer and was dreading it.

  “They all think she is behind this, and I’m inclined to agree.”

  With that, the contractor walked off, leaving the four of us staring at each other with uncertain looks on our faces.

  “I’m going to go talk to them,” Robert announced. “I need to see if I can nip this nonsense in the bud before it gets out of control.”

  Jillian offered the foreman a smile, “Thank you, Robert.”

  I slowly raised a hand. Jillian, of course, was there to push it back down.

  “What is it, Zachary?”

  “She? Which she is he talking about? Wait. Is he talking about the previous owner of this place? Mrs. Whatshername?”

  “Dame Hilda Highland,” Jillian corrected.

  “Right. That’s her. So, all those people, who left the house… the contractors... they all think that Dame Highland’s ghost is responsible for this?”

  “It certainly looks that way,” Vance said, as he turned to look at the steady stream of cars that were pulling away from the house.

  Concerned, I looked back at Jillian, eager to see how she was taking all of this. Jillian had a look of resolve on her face that spoke volumes. Apparently, she ain’t afraid of no ghost.

  Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. What I meant to say was, here was a lady who wasn’t about to be scared off by a silly superstition, or story, or whatever else may be at the heart of it. I, for one, was proud of her.

  “I can’t believe,” I began, growing angry, “in this day and age that grown men – adults! – are actually afraid of ghosts. Yeah, there was a terrible accident, but it had nothing to do with some supernatural being.”

  Right about then, a big bald black guy exited the front door and walked across the terrace, heading directly for us. He was wearing a red short-sleeve dress shirt, blue jeans, black work boots, and sported an orange hard hat on his head. Strapped around his waist was a tool belt with a variety of gadgets and gizmos that I was unable to recognize. He was also holding a clipboard. He looked at Jillian and held out a hand.

  “Ms. Cooper? I’m Jerry Springer.”

  Before I could stop myself, I snorted with amusement. The big guy looked at me and grinned.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I get it all the time,” Mr. Springer explained. “If only my mother knew there’d be a famous trash talkin’ white guy on TV by that name, then I think she would have reconsidered her choice. Anyway, I assume you’re Ms. Jillian Cooper?” the inspector asked, as he turned to Jillian.

  Jillian held up a hand, “Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you, Mr. Springer?”

  “I’m with the PV Building Inspection Department. I hate to do this to you, but I have to shut this site down until I can do a full and complete inspection. We need to know what caused the accident today.”

  Jillian’s eyes filled again and she nodded.

  “I understand, Mr. Springer. I would also like to know what happened. So please, take all the time you need.”

  Jerry took a step back and stared at Jillian with astonishment written all over his face.

  “Really? You’re not going to cop an attitude with me, or insinuate that I need to be done by a certain time? I’ll be damned.”

  “I take it you hear that a lot,” I murmured.

  Jerry nodded, “Like, on a daily basis. All right, folks. If you could get everyone to clear out, then I’ll get to work.”

  “Out of curiosity, how long do these inspections typically take?” I asked.

  Jerry shrugged, “It obviously depends on the property. On average, I usually get each inspection done in an hour or two. Since I’m investigating an accident on a work site, I’ll need to be more thorough. I have to check everything, so I’d give me a day or two to get it done.”

  Jillian nodded, “Of course.”

  Robert reappeared then, and the look on his face wasn’t promising.

  “No luck?” I guessed.

  “The men are all refusing to step back inside the house,” the foreman angrily confirmed. “I told them that this was just a freak accident, but they won’t listen. You’d think I was working with a group of pendejos.”

  While I wasn’t exactly sure what Robert had said, I could tell from the way Vance started grinning that, whatever a ‘pendejo’ was, it was some sort of insult. I looked over at Jillian, but she wasn’t smiling. Clearly, my detective friend spoke a little Spanish. I’d have to ask him about that later.

  “Did you tell them that they weren’t expected to go back in right now, but in a couple of days, when the safety inspector has finished his job?” Jillian asked.

  Robert nodded, “I did, yeah. Didn’t do any good, though.”

  “Okay, let me ask you something, Robert,” I said, as I stepped forward. “Did you see anything in there that appeared, I don’t know, out of the ordinary?”

  Robert met my eyes and held them for a few moments.

  “Are you asking if I saw her? No, amigo, I did not. I didn’t hear anything and I didn’t see anything. If I did, you’d be the first to know. Did the inspector say how long it’ll be before we can get back to work?”

  “A few days, probably,” Jillian answered.

  “That’ll give me time to get some people back in here. Gracias, señora. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thank you, Robert.”

  “¡Aye, caramba!” Robert muttered, as he walked down the steps. “Mi equipo no es más que pendejos grandes.”

  We all watched as the foreman unlocked a newer model Chevy Silverado crew cab truck and drive away.

  “Anyone know what he said as he left?” I asked.

  Vance chuckled, “Essentially, he was complaining that he works with a bunch of stupid idiots.”

  Jillian turned to Vance, “I did not realize you spoke Spanish, Vance.”

  The detective shrugged, “I learned it in high school. I don’t really get a chance to use it too much.”

  I looked at Jillian and hooked a thumb back at the house.

  “Okay, what do we know about this ‘Dame Highland’ person? For the sake of argument, let’s just assume that she’s here, as a ghost. Now I realize that all the information I know about ghosts are based on movies, but aren’t ghosts here because they have refused to move on? Do we know what happened to her?”

  Jillian somberly nodded, “I know a little. Dame Highland was murdered in this house a long time ago. Since then, there have been dozens of reported sightings, in various parts of the house.”<
br />
  “Ghost sightings?” Vance hesitantly asked.

  Jillian nodded, “That’s right. Highland House, I’m sorry to say, is rumored to be the most haunted house in all the state.”

  “That explains the contractors’ reluctance to go back to work,” I sourly observed.

  My girlfriend had just purchased a haunted house. That’s just peachy.

  THREE

  Two uneventful days passed. I stopped by Cookbook Nook on what had come to be known as my daily foraging session. For soda. I know, I know. I could have saved a lot of money had I just bought cans of soda and kept them at home, in the fridge. However, heading out practically every day to Wired Coffee & Café, just to buy a soda, gave me a perfect excuse to stop by a certain specialty book store and see my girlfriend.

  Honestly, I never thought I’d be feeling like a love-struck teenager, not after losing my childhood sweetheart in a horrible car accident a few years ago. Neither could Jillian, for that matter. She had lost her husband to cancer, and neither one of us expected to fall this hard for another person. However, the two of us hit it off from the start and the rest, as they say, is history.

  Holding my mega 96 ounce mug of soda in one hand, and Jillian’s iced blended chai soybean drink in the other, and managing to keep Sherlock and Watson from yanking either drink out of my hand, we made it inside. Hurrying over to the counter so I could set both drinks down before they spilled, I cast a stern look at the dogs. Both corgis were staring up at me, as if to say, not bad for a human. We’ll get you next time.

  “That was close, guys. Too close. Do you know how much of a mess that would’ve made had I dropped my soda?”

  “Five gallons of soda would have definitely made a mess,” a female voice quipped from behind me.

  Turning, I saw a young redheaded teenage girl eyeing me with a smile on her face. However, the smile wasn’t for me, but for the dogs. The girl wearing the purple apron dropped to one knee and gave both dogs a hearty scratching.

  “We thought for certain you were going to drop them this time,” the girl told me.

  “Thanks for the support, kiddo,” I joked. Then, a thought occurred. “Hey, you haven’t placed any wagers on me, have you?”