7 Never Haunt a Historian

by Edie Claire

  Leigh bit her lip. Adith obviously wasn’t aware of the whole treasure-hunting scenario, which meant that Harvey had deliberately kept his mouth shut about Leigh’s earlier conversation with him. Lester was practically making himself apoplectic with zeal to protect the secret. Even Allison was sitting quietly as a mouse, saying nothing… although for her, that was status quo. The child had a one-way data valve.

  Leigh’s sense of fairness warred with her better judgment. She was no big fan of secrets, particularly crime-related ones. Getting them out in the open was often the best way to render them innocuous. On the other hand, when talking about one Adith Rhodis, a little information could most definitely be a dangerous thing.

  She decided to keep her own mouth shut too, at least for now. Adith could—and no doubt would—harass her about the omission later.

  Within half an hour they were ensconced in the second-floor end unit of Dora Klinger, who seemed more than delighted to settle them into her olive green Victorian wingback chairs and treat them to a bowl of hard candy that looked like it had survived the Great Depression. Allison and Adith both managed to politely take a piece, but every lump Leigh attempted to extract was permanently affixed to the mother lode.

  “I couldn’t believe it when Adith called,” Dora exclaimed as she lowered herself into a mechanized lift chair. Well-preserved for her age, with an unruly tuft of thick, snow-white hair covering her head like a mop, Dora’s animated eyes gave the impression of one tough cookie. Her long limbs suggested she was once a tall woman, but her stature was now reduced by the prominent hunch in her back. Getting around even this small, one-room apartment was probably an ordeal for her, yet she had insisted on rising to meet them and ushering them in. “I do love meeting people from the old neighborhood, but I wish it was under better circumstances. To think that Mr. Pratt has disappeared! I never liked living at that farm, myself. Always had my suspicions about it. But hearing this from Adith now, and thinking back to what I saw back then… it gives me gooseflesh!”

  Adith leaned forward in her chair, eyes bugging. “Ooh, tell us all about it! You thought the place was haunted, didn’t you?”

  “Every place is haunted,” Dora responded knowledgably. “It’s only a matter of whether the spirits are friendly or not.”

  Leigh restrained her eyes from rolling. Why exactly was she here?

  “Excuse me, Mrs. Klinger,” Allison said politely. “When did you live at Frog Hill Farm?”

  Dora’s dark eyes rested on the girl with a smile. “Why, many years ago, child. My husband and I bought the farm back in 1958, when the houses you ladies live in were just being built. Five acres, a couple of outbuildings, and a crumbling wreck of a farmhouse—that’s what we got. I didn’t care for it from the beginning, what with the bridge and the flooding and all, but Bert—that was my husband—he liked his privacy, and we couldn’t afford much else, so there we were. Little did we know!”

  “You bought the farm from Theodore Carr’s son?” Allison asked.

  Leigh tensed. How did Allison know—. She stopped herself with a head shake. Any question beginning with that phrase was better left unanswered.

  Dora beamed. “What a clever child you are!” she praised. “And such a pretty bow!”

  Allison slid her eyes toward her mother and smiled smugly.

  Saints preserve us, Leigh thought, borrowing a quote from her own mother. Most ten and a half year-old girls would be embarrassed to use their small size to their advantage, but Allison had the ruse down to a science. Both twins had both been born prematurely, but while Ethan came out ready to roll, Allison had required four agonizing weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit and had always been the smallest child in her grade. Nevertheless, blessed (or cursed, depending on your perspective) with her grandfather Koslow’s ageless visage, Allison could—with a flip of her short hair this way or that, or an adjustment in clothing, posture, or eye wear—pose for any age between six and twenty. At present, she was shooting for “young, innocent, and adorable.”

  At least two of them were true.

  “We bought the farm from a man named Trout,” Dora answered. “But he wasn’t the son of the soldier, he was the grandson, a nephew to the man who had just died. Mr. Trout was trying to sell off and settle everything. He gave us a good price because of the shape it was in… while his uncle was still alive it had been let out as a rental, and it was all run down. Of course, we didn’t know then why none of the renters would stay in it!”

  “Well, I can tell you that right now,” Adith chortled. “Spooks! The place is crawling with them. My Pansy knew it from the beginning, that’s why she always turns her head to the left and sniffs when she’s on the deck. Never to the right, mind you. Always to the left!”

  Dora threw Adith a derisive glance, and Leigh hid a grin. It looked like Dora had heard all about Adith’s clairvoyant poodle over the phone already. It also appeared that even among believers, some paranormal claims were deemed more legitimate than others. “Yes,” Dora drawled critically, “Well. In any event, the renters didn’t last. And no sooner had the ink dried on our deed than we started hearing the stories.”

  Adith leaned forward further.

  “There were rumors, you see, that the man who’d lived on the farm for the last fifty years, Tom Carr, had murdered his own father. That was supposed to have happened way back in the twenties, but the neighborhood was still abuzz about it, because Tom was a loner and everybody thought he was touched in the head. Nobody visited the farm; people didn’t let their kids play anywhere near it. Getting the man into a nursing home was a terrible mess, I heard. Nephew had to go through the state and get him committed or some such. Bert and I knew all that when we bought the place, but Bert, he never had the ESP, not even a touch, so it didn’t bother him. Me, I was leery from the beginning.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “When bad things happen in a place, bad energy lingers.”

  “Oooh,” Adith crooned. “Ain’t it so, ain’t it so! Can I use your bathroom?”

  Dora cocked one thin eyebrow, then waved a hand dismissively. “Of course, of course. Help yourself. Now, as I was saying…” she faltered.

  “You were telling us about Theodore Carr’s son,” Allison prompted sweetly. “And the rumors about him? Strange things he did, maybe?”

  “Yes,” Dora continued, granting Allison an indulgent smile. “Tom was a queer bird. They said he was unfriendly even before his father died, and afterward, he became a recluse. Most likely, his father’s vengeful spirit was what drove him to madness. Now Tom, he didn’t die at the farm. But unlike what some may tell you, a spirit can travel, if they’ve got a mind to.”

  Leigh stiffened. Over Dora’s shoulder, she could see Adith prowling around in the bathroom, first popping open the vanity and now peering into her hostess’s medicine cabinet. She tried to catch Adith’s eye with a glare, but as Leigh was directly in Dora’s line of sight and Adith was paying no attention, a discreet reprimand was impossible.

  “And from the moment I stepped foot on that farm,” Dora continued, “I sensed not one, but two centers of energy… and both were as vile and hostile as anything I’d ever felt before!”

  Leigh’s cheeks flared red. Adith was pulling pill bottles off the shelves, unscrewing the lids, looking inside…

  “Of course the nephew, Mr. Trout, he was the nicest man you’d ever meet,” Dora digressed. “He knew his uncle had problems, and he seemed to feel pretty bad about the way things had gotten with the neighbors. Once he took control out there, he did what he could to get the place put right. But some things you can’t just pick up and haul away on a truck. And evil is one of them.”

  Leigh squirmed in her chair, trying to catch Adith’s attention, but the woman was oblivious.

  “Do you know if either of the Carrs left a journal or… anything like that?” Allison asked.

  Dora’s lips twisted in thought. “I don’t remember Mr. Trout mentioning such a thing, but we wouldn’t know—I’m sure he remove
d all his relatives’ personal property when his uncle went in the home, before the renters moved in. Why would you ask?”

  Leigh breathed a sigh of relief as Adith at last exited the bathroom.

  “Theodore Carr led a really interesting life, being a Union soldier and all,” Allison answered. “I like local history. I’m reading A History of the Harmony Line right now.”

  Dora’s wrinkled face beamed. “Why, how nice! I used to walk down the creek and pick blackberries along where the tracks used to be. I remember one time…”

  Leigh tuned out as, instead of returning to her seat, Adith took a U-turn into the bedroom area. With Dora’s attention temporarily turned to Allison, Leigh frantically gestured for Adith to cease and desist, but the older woman merely grinned at her and proceeded to examine the contents of a chest of drawers.

  “Well, he buried his father’s body right there on the property, you know,” Dora was saying as Leigh tuned back in. “You could do that back then if you wanted—no law against it. Just have to mark it clearly and tell people when you sell.”

  Leigh’s attention shifted back to Dora. “Theodore Carr is buried at Frog Hill Farm?”

  “Of course,” Dora responded. “Hasn’t anyone seen the stone? It was downstream from the house a ways, by a little willow tree, near the edge of the woods.”

  “But there isn’t any gravestone!” Allison interjected. “I’m sure there’s not. We would have seen it.”

  Dora shrugged. “Well, it was just a little flat thing. Probably got moved.”

  But did Theodore? Leigh thought grimly. The thought of an unmarked grave on the property was disturbing. Surely that wasn’t what the map led to?

  But if the “treasure” was buried with his body…

  Leigh fought a shiver.

  “Is that why people thought it was haunted?” Allison asked. “Something to do with the grave?”

  “Oh no,” Dora said defensively. “It was much more than that. Lots of farms have family graveyards. But an evil presence… that’s something else. There are signs. Clear signs, if you’re able to read them. And I can. Floating lights in the wee hours… those are the orbs, you know. Harbingers.”

  “Ooh! I love orbs!” Adith exclaimed, pausing in her analysis of the top drawer to retrieve a brassiere she’d sent dangling over the side. “I’ve seen ’em myself, out by the creek!”

  Dora did not appear to hear the voice coming from directly behind her, which under the circumstances was fortunate.

  “I know a boy who sees floating lights,” Allison said quickly, seemingly as anxious as her mother to distract attention from Adith. “I always thought they were probably just fireflies. Or maybe somebody with a flashlight.”

  Dora’s lips turned down into a scowl. “Now don’t be a cynic, my dear. You sound just like my Bert. Flashlights, indeed. They may look indistinguishable from ordinary lights, but when you have The Sight, you know. You can feel it.”

  “Amen to that!” Adith added, putting one hand on Dora’s mattress and attempting some sort of squat.

  “From the very beginning, I saw the orbs,” Dora insisted. “Always in the wee hours. I had trouble sleeping, you know, so I was up while Bert snored away. The renters saw the same thing. Lights, sometimes sounds along with them, disappearing well before dawn. Not in one place, but all over. When the place was empty, the ghosts got bolder. Vandalism… that’s what really scared the renters away.”

  “Vandalism?” Leigh repeated. Adith had all but disappeared from view as she painstakingly lowered herself to hand and knees, presumably to look under the bed.

  “Oh, yes,” Dora insisted. “We heard about all sorts of things. Belongings moved, but never stolen. Tools, shovels, that sort of thing. Poltergeist activity, of course. Windows left open, doors ajar. Coins dropped, but no money ever taken, which only goes to prove it wasn’t people doing it!”

  Adith remained out of view. Leigh’s jaws clenched.

  “It happened to us, too, but Bert wouldn’t believe it. He always said I left things out of place and didn’t remember. But I knew. The spirits at that farm were disturbed. Whether Tom killed his daddy I don’t know, but they say insanity runs in families, so who could swear that he didn’t? Either way, it’s clear they both still haunt the place. Misery and unhappiness… and hostility. That’s what I sensed. And I don’t mind telling you it scared the living daylights out of me.”

  Adith’s gray head at last popped back up, and Leigh breathed a sigh of relief. But her respite was short lived. Adith had to struggle to pull herself up by hanging onto the bedframe, and as she rose she accidentally caught her shoulder under Dora’s bedside commode. Leigh watched in horror as Adith unknowingly pulled the entire contraption off the ground, the pot swinging square against her backside.

  “Well, what the—” Adith swore like a sailor as, to add insult to injury, the potty lid flipped down on the back of her head.

  Leigh was halfway out of her chair, but Allison was quicker. “Excuse me, Mrs. Klinger,” the girl said loudly, covering the vulgarity spewing from behind, “But could I use your bathroom, too?”

  “Why of course my dear,” Dora answered, still mercifully oblivious. “Now, as I was saying…”

  Allison leapt to Mrs. Rhodis’ rescue as Leigh pretended not to see the octogenarian flapping her arms and spinning in circles while the potty seat’s rubber feet careened dangerously close to an antique lamp.

  “Bert didn’t believe a bit of it, of course, until he started having to make weekend trips to Steubenville to take care of his folks. There I was, first time all alone, just me and the chickens, and I wake up in the dead of night to find some man—dead or alive I never knew—rattling on my back door! Well, I got up and turned on the lights and he disappeared quick as he came. Happened more than once after that—every time Bert left town.”

  Leigh relaxed slightly as Allison succeeded in freeing Mrs. Rhodis, then replaced the commode where it belonged and scooted dutifully off toward the bathroom.

  “Now isn’t that just like a man!” Adith chirped, returning to her chair and the conversation as smooth as butter. “Never believe a thing you say until it bites ’em on the nose. Then they say ‘why didn’t you tell me!’”

  “Indeed,” Dora nodded. “He said it was all in my head, until his mother passed and we went to Steubenville for the funeral. That was the first time we were both gone from the farm, and when we came back, even Bert had to admit someone had jimmied the back door open. He knew because I’d made him lock it himself.”

  “That’s thinking,” Adith praised.

  “Well, after that, he told me to wake him up next time I saw those lights bobbing, and I did, and he went running straight out there with his shotgun. Said he didn’t see anybody running away, but of course he wouldn’t. Never did admit the place was spooked, but he did decide right then and there to pull up stakes and sell it—and that’s what we did.”

  “The time someone broke in,” Leigh asked, her trepidation growing again. “Did they take anything?”

  Dora shook her head. “Not a toothpick. But we did find something strange afterward. One of the stones in the cellar wall was loose. It had been chiseled all around, like someone wanted to take it out. Bert said that was fool nonsense, the mortar was just old, it was crumbling everywhere and a lot of the stones were loose, but I knew better. It was a sign.”

  “A sign of what?” Adith asked breathlessly. “The apocalypse?”

  Dora scowled with disapproval. “Of course not! A sign that the evil spirits were staking their claim. They didn’t want anyone else to live in that house. Ever.” Her scratchy voice lowered to a growl. “Or else.”

  Leigh thought of Archie, and despite herself, a wave of goose bumps crept up both her arms.

  “If you ask me,” Dora continued, “I’d guess poor Mr. Pratt must have seen something he couldn’t quite handle. I expect he’ll come back when he’s ready. And when he does, he’ll put that cursed place right back on the market—yo
u see if he doesn’t!”

  The toilet flushed.

  A few seconds later, Allison emerged. “You have a nice bathroom, Mrs. Klinger,” she flattered. “I like the ocean pictures.”

  “Why thank you, dear,” Dora answered. “It seems quite” —she stifled an obvious yawn— “popular tonight.”

  Taking the cue, Leigh rose, thanked their hostess profusely, and readied the trio for their exit. Dora graciously showed them out, thanked them for an evening’s conversation, and urged them to come back for another visit any time. She warned them all to be on their guard around the farm and made Adith promise to keep her updated about Archie.

  The second they were out of earshot, Adith practically burst. “You can trust what she says, I can tell you that!” she assured proudly. “No psych meds at all, not even a sleep aid! Just something for thyroid and blood pressure. She had her vitamin D and the bone meds, but nothing heavy for pain—just over the counter stuff. Now, if she was on the narcotics I’d be a little wary, but with a profile like that her mind’s good to go!”

  “That’s why you were snooping in her medicine cabinet?” Leigh asked incredulously, “To assess her mental state?”

  “Well, of course,” Adith said innocently. “Why else would I?”

  “And her underwear drawer?” Leigh accused.

  Adith’s lips pursed. “Some people keep their drugs in their undies.”

  “You missed half of what she was saying!”

  Adith waved a dismissive hand. “I’d heard it all on the phone already anyway.”

  Leigh’s face grew hot. “Then why on earth did you insist I drive you out here on a Saturday night?”

  Adith gave a shrug, her merry eyes sparkling with mischief. “Some stories, you really need to hear firsthand. Besides, she sounded lonely. When I’m old, I can only hope three such young and gorgeous ladies will want to spend a Saturday evening chatting with me.”