Fixing to Die

by Miranda James

  “Me either.” Dickce shivered. “Part of me wants to go upstairs right now and pack as fast as I can so we can drive home.”

  “I know how you feel,” An’gel said, “but I’m not going. You can go if you want, but I’m staying here. I’m not going to be intimidated by little tricks like closing the door on us.” She stood up and turned around, glancing all over the room. She raised her voice as she continued, “Do you hear me? I’m not going anywhere.”

  An’gel braced herself for a response of some kind, but although she waited nearly a minute, nothing happened. She glanced at Dickce and Benjy. “Are you staying? Or are you going to pack up and leave?”

  “I’ll stay if you and Miss Dickce are going to,” Benjy said.

  “Oh, I’m not going anywhere, Sister,” Dickce said crossly. “You know I’d never go off and leave you to face anything like this on your own.”

  “I didn’t think so,” An’gel said. “Thank you both.” She walked over to the door and stood there, staring at it, for perhaps half a minute. She wasn’t convinced that the door had been moved by a spirit. Benjy was a clever young man, but there might be something he missed. For the life of her, however, she couldn’t see what it might be.

  An idea occurred to her. “I wonder what is beneath us. Is there a basement?”

  “I don’t ever remember hearing talk of one,” Dickce said. “That doesn’t mean there isn’t one, though.”

  “I haven’t heard any mention either,” An’gel said. “Another thing to ask Mary Turner.”

  “What made you think of a basement?” Benjy asked.

  An’gel walked back to her chair and resumed her seat. “It suddenly occurred to me that if there’s open space beneath this room, a clever person could figure out a way to manipulate the door from beneath the floor.”

  “Like with magnets?” Benjy’s face lit up. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Yes, exactly,” An’gel said. “There’s enough metal in the door that a strong enough magnet could move it from under the floor, I think.”

  “You really don’t want to believe in ghosts, do you?” Dickce laughed.

  “As long as there’s a rational explanation, no, I don’t,” An’gel retorted.

  “Since Mary Turner isn’t here, why don’t we ask Marcelline?” Dickce said. “She probably knows as much about this house as anyone, she’s been here so long.”

  “Good idea,” An’gel said.

  Benjy rose from the sofa. “I’ll go. She wasn’t in the kitchen when I came in a little while ago, but she might be back now.”

  “Thank you,” An’gel said.

  Benjy departed the parlor, and An’gel turned to her sister. “Did you bring any old clothes with you? If we’re going to go grubbing around in a basement, I don’t want to get my dress filthy.”

  “You’re assuming that, if there is a basement, it hasn’t been cleaned in decades.” Dickce laughed. “I didn’t bring any old clothes because I didn’t think they’d be needed. Let’s wait to hear what Benjy finds out, and we’ll worry about clothes later.”

  “Very well,” An’gel said. “I suppose I always think of attics and basements as dirty places. And that reminds me, it’s probably time we gave ours a good turnout. They could both use a good cleaning, and goodness knows there are things stored in both that we could probably part with.”

  “I agree with you,” Dickce said. “At our age, though, I don’t really think we need to be doing all the cleaning and organizing. We can get help for that.”

  “I’d already thought of that,” An’gel said. “Give me credit for some sense. I’m no more keen on clambering around over things and risking a fall than you are. I’d like to keep my bones intact.”

  “With you, I’m never completely sure,” Dickce said. “You’re inclined to forget your age sometimes and get into things that you shouldn’t.”

  “I could say the same thing about you,” An’gel retorted. “Let’s face it, Sister, we’re exactly alike in that regard.” She paused for a moment. “I suppose I simply don’t want to admit I’m an old woman, with more time behind me than I’ve got ahead of me.”

  Dickce winced. “Don’t go getting morbid on me, for heaven’s sake. After all, I’m only about four years behind you.”

  “As you remind me quite often,” An’gel said.

  Dickce did not reply, and An’gel did not say anything further. They waited in silence for Benjy’s return.

  An’gel checked her watch, and though it seemed an eternity until Benjy reentered the front parlor, it was probably no longer than six or seven minutes.

  “Marcelline was back in the kitchen.” He paused near An’gel’s chair. “She told me that there is a basement, used mostly for storage. She keeps some canned goods down there, old furniture, things like that. She thinks it runs under most of the house, too.”

  An’gel smiled. “Excellent. I think an investigation of the basement is in order.”

  “That will have to wait,” Benjy said. “Marcelline looked for the key. It’s usually kept there in the butler’s pantry. The door to the basement is there. The key was missing, though, and she doesn’t know where it is.”

  “That’s interesting,” Dickce said. “Someone has taken the key to keep others out of it. No investigation.”

  “We’ll have to ask Mary Turner about it,” An’gel said. “Did you happen to ask Marcelline where Mary Turner is?”

  “She told me Mary Turner has gone into town to pick up more food,” Benjy said. “Because of the additional people who will be needing breakfast the next few days. She hadn’t left long before I talked to Marcelline in the kitchen, according to her, so it will be a while before she gets back.”

  “And Henry Howard is gone until sometime this evening,” An’gel said. “Then we have no choice but to wait.” She felt thwarted. She really wanted to get into the basement and dig around in it and didn’t want to have to wait.

  “I need to go check on Peanut and Endora,” Benjy said. “They’ve been alone in the room for probably half an hour now. They’ll be getting restless. Do you think it would be okay to bring them into the house?”

  “I think so,” An’gel said. “Mary Turner and Henry Howard are both fond of animals.”

  “I think as long as we keep an eye on them and don’t let them scratch up anything, it should be fine,” Dickce added. “Besides, I’d like to take them through the house and see how they react.”

  Benjy frowned. “I don’t want to frighten them.”

  “No, I don’t either,” An’gel said. “Dickce has this idea that animals are supposed to be sensitive to otherworldly presences and thinks they’ll react if there is one present.”

  “I’ve read that, too,” Benjy said.

  “If they act like they’re afraid of anything,” Dickce said, “of course we won’t force them to stay. It would be a shame for them not to be able to come in the house, though.”

  “I’ll go get them, and then we’ll see how they react,” Benjy said. “Back in a few minutes.”

  Moments after Benjy left the parlor, Marcelline came in.

  “Beg pardon, Miss An’gel, Miss Dickce. I was wondering if y’all would like something to drink, like tea or coffee? And maybe a little something to nibble on? I just baked a lemon loaf cake.”

  Dickce smiled. “That sounds wonderful, Marcelline. I sure would love to try your lemon loaf cake. How about coffee to go with it, An’gel? Or would you rather have tea?”

  “Coffee is fine,” An’gel said. “Thank you, Marcelline. It’s thoughtful of you to offer.”

  “My pleasure, ma’am,” Marcelline said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy. Coffee’s almost ready, and I’ll slice up the cake.” She hurried from the room.

  “I don’t know what Mary Turner will do when Marcelline decides to retire,” An’gel said.

  “
The same thing we’ll do when Clementine decides to retire,” Dickce said. “Feel like we’ve lost our rudder.”

  “What a depressing thought,” An’gel said. “I will feel really old then, because she’s younger than we are.”

  Peanut rushed into the room, woofing happily at the sight of An’gel, who never failed to make a fuss over him. She did so now, and Peanut rested his head on her knee. He gazed adoringly up at her while she stroked his head and told him how handsome and clever he was.

  Benjy, carrying Endora, walked into the room moments later. He resumed his seat near Dickce, and Endora jumped from his arms to climb into Dickce’s lap. She accepted Dickce’s stroking as her due and meowed to encourage its continuance.

  “Did they show any signs of hesitation or fear when you came by the stairs?” Dickce asked.

  “No, ma’am,” Benjy said. “They’ve been fine since the moment we walked into the kitchen.”

  “I think the true test will be when we take them upstairs,” An’gel said. “Other than the business with the door, we haven’t experienced anything except on the stairs and on the second floor.”

  “So you’re admitting that animals might be able to sense spirits?” Dickce said.

  “Not necessarily,” An’gel said. “We’ll have to see what, if anything, happens.”

  Marcelline interrupted the discussion by rolling in the tea cart. “Here we go,” she said as she brought the cart to a halt near An’gel’s chair. “Would you like me to serve?”

  “Thank you,” An’gel said, “but we’ll do that.”

  Marcelline nodded and turned to go. Then she turned back, her expression hesitant. “Miss An’gel, I couldn’t help overhearing what y’all were talking about.” She gestured toward Peanut, sniffing at the cake slices atop the tea cart, and Endora, resting in Dickce’s lap.

  “That’s all right,” Dickce said. “Do you have something to tell us? Please do.”

  “Well, it’s about Miss Mary’s little dog,” the housekeeper said. “He died a few months ago. He was old, and Miss Mary’d had him since he was a pup, before she and Mr. Henry got married. Anyway, that little dog, there were times when he wouldn’t go up or down those stairs to save his life.” She shook her head. “Miss Mary’d have to carry him, and he’d whimper the whole time.”

  “Other times he was fine?” An’gel asked.

  “Sure was.” Marcelline nodded. “He’d run up and down the stairs without a care in the world. Until he got too old and crippled, that is. It always gave me the chills when he wouldn’t go near those stairs without being afraid of whatever was there the rest of us couldn’t see.” She shivered suddenly. “I felt it myself. Coldest feeling I ever had.”

  An’gel took hold of Peanut’s collar to keep him from investigating the enticing smells from the cart any closer. “When did this start? The cold on the stairs, I mean.”

  Marcelline shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. Ever since I’ve been working here, and that’s a mighty long time. There’s somebody else occupying this house besides us living folks, that’s all I can tell you.” She turned and walked out of the parlor.

  CHAPTER 15

  Dickce felt both chilled and excited by Marcelline’s parting words. Her own experiences with the unexplained at Riverhill notwithstanding, Dickce had tried to maintain a stance of intelligent inquiry about the whole business. Granted, she and An’gel had not personally encountered another situation like the one at Cliffwood before, though friends of theirs in Athena and other places had occasionally owned up to odd goings-on in their old houses. An’gel had always been the one who refused to give much credence to the existence of lingering spirits while Dickce was more willing to believe that some things couldn’t be easily explained away. Dickce did not doubt the housekeeper firmly believed that a spirit or a revenant of some sort remained at Cliffwood from a time in the distant past.

  Now Dickce looked at her sister and wondered what An’gel was thinking about Marcelline’s statements. She doubted An’gel was ready to commit fully to the fact of a resident ghost, but perhaps she might be less inclined to dismiss the possibility as they continued to investigate. She decided to ask her sister, knowing that An’gel likely wouldn’t say anything unless pressed to do so.

  “What do you think of what Marcelline just told us?” Dickce asked.

  An’gel shrugged before she picked up the coffeepot and began to pour. She didn’t say anything until she had filled all three cups and set the pot down again. “I’m sure Marcelline isn’t making things up to frighten or titillate us. She sounded completely sincere, I thought.”

  Peanut woofed and looked hopefully again at the lemon cake slices on dessert plates atop the tea cart. “No, Peanut, that isn’t for you,” An’gel said. “Or for Endora.” She glanced at the cat, apparently asleep in Dickce’s lap.

  Benjy waited until An’gel finished with the cream and sugar for her coffee before he doctored his own and Dickce’s. He placed Dickce’s cup and saucer on the coffee table in front of her, then picked up a dessert plate and fork and set them beside the coffee. Then he helped himself.

  “I thought she sounded sincere, too,” Benjy said. “I think she really believes there’s a ghost here.” He took a bite of lemon cake, chewed for a moment, swallowed, and smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

  “I agree,” Dickce said. “I also agree with her that there is another presence here along with us. Not necessarily at this moment, but there was certainly something on the stairs with me earlier.” She adjusted the sleeping cat in order to lean forward, pick up her cup, and sip from it. “Excellent coffee.”

  “Have a bite of the cake,” An’gel said. “We ought to ask Marcelline for the recipe, if she’ll share it. This is one thing I wish Clementine would bake.”

  “The only thing I’ve seen—so far—is the door closing on its own,” Benjy said. “That could have been rigged somehow, though it’s not clear yet how it was done, if it was. This cold thing on the stairs sounds really creepy to me.”

  Dickce caught a movement in her peripheral vision as she leaned forward to get a bite of her lemon cake. She looked up to see Nathan Gamble advancing toward them from the doorway.

  “Are y’all talking about the Terrible Specter of Cliffwood?” He laughed. “That’s a bunch of hooey, you know that, right? I’ve been in and out of this house for years, and I’ve never seen one weird thing.”

  “Because you haven’t experienced it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened to someone else, young man,” An’gel said tartly.

  Gamble shrugged and dropped down on the sofa across from Dickce and Benjy. “Have it your way, ma’am. I think it’s all part of the plot to keep me from my rightful inheritance. Mary Turner thinks if I think the house is haunted, and especially the French room, then I’ll stop asking for my rights and leave her with that fortune in antiques. Marcelline would do anything or say anything to help her precious Mary Turner, believe you me.” He folded his arms across his chest and shrugged again.

  Dickce itched to point out to Gamble that his boorish behavior was hardly an aid to his cause, but she doubted he cared in the least. He seemed obsessed with owning the contents of that room, and nothing apparently would deflect him.

  “You can scoff all you like,” Dickce told him, trying to keep her tone mild, “but odd things have happened here since we arrived this morning. More could happen while you’re here.”

  “Have you ever stayed here?” Benjy asked. “In the French room?” He ate another bite of lemon cake.

  Gamble got up from the sofa and went to the fireplace, where he rang the bell on the wall near it for Marcelline. Dickce hadn’t noticed it earlier. She was surprised it was in working order. Theirs at home wasn’t because they had never bothered with keeping the wiring up-to-date.

  Gamble leaned against the mantel and regarded Benjy. “No, I’ve never been allowed to spend the night in tha
t room. In fact, I’ve never spent a night here before in any room. This is a first.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Not sure why Mary Turner finally let me. Her parents never would.”

  Dickce exchanged a quick glance with An’gel. She knew they both recalled Mary Turner’s jest earlier about Gamble’s being frightened. She wasn’t about to tell Gamble about that, however, and neither was An’gel, she knew.

  Marcelline appeared in the doorway, and when she spotted Nathan Gamble, she frowned but quickly suppressed it, Dickce noticed. She wasn’t surprised he hadn’t endeared himself to the housekeeper. Had he ever endeared himself to anyone?

  “Yes, Nathan? Did you ring?” Marcelline asked, her tone flat. She waited in the doorway.

  “Yes, I did, Marcelline.” Gamble pointed to the tea cart. “How about another coffee cup? And some of that cake they’re having? I could use a snack about now.”

  “I’ll see if there’s any of the cake left.” Marcelline turned and disappeared.

  Gamble snorted. “Thank you very much.” He walked back to the sofa and dropped down.

  Dickce winced. Gamble wasn’t a heavy man, but the sofas were antiques and shouldn’t be treated so roughly. She had to bite her tongue to keep from admonishing him. She was surprised An’gel didn’t, but her sister didn’t speak, only glared at the man.

  Gamble seemed impervious to their response to him. For the first time, he paid attention to the fact that there were four-legged creatures in the room. “Hello, there, doggie. What’s your name?” He held out a hand toward Peanut.

  The dog growled, and Gamble snatched back his hand. An’gel placed a hand on Peanut’s head to quiet him and keep him by her side.

  Benjy said, “His name is Peanut. He can be shy around strangers.”

  Dickce wondered what it was about Gamble that put Peanut off. Normally the dog was friendly, almost to a fault, with everyone. There was obviously something about the man that Peanut didn’t like, however.