The Ghosts and Hauntings Collection

by Cat Knight

  “We understand,” Monica said. “Lots of nicknames for lots of blokes. Can you tell us where we can find the rat, er, Percy?”

  Shanty grinned and nodded at the bartender. Monica smiled and gestured to the bartender who grabbed a glass. She thought the cost of a pint or two was cheap at twice the price

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  The address Shanty had given Monica was a one-room flat in a section of the city that she had avoided most of her life. And, despite her courage, she didn’t find Percy.

  Percy had moved out. Where? The new address wasn’t in such a poor neighbourhood, but Percy wasn’t there either.

  “He’s in the hospital,” Percy’s sister said. Percy’s sister possessed the sour face of a scold, a woman who could find the wrong in everything. Overweight, grey-headed, arms thick from hard labour, Percy’s sister was the mother whose children never came to visit. Monica had met her share of scolds, people for whom nothing was ever done “correctly”. Percy’s sister was maybe the queen of scolds. Her flat had all the warmth of an igloo, and the single orange pumpkin cut out of tabloid didn’t help. “Why are you lookin’ for him?” Percy’s sister asked.

  “I have a morning show,” Monica began.

  “I know. I seen you. And I have to tell you that you need a new producer. Your guests have been awful lately. Except for that Gustan fellow. He knew a lot about ghosts. Not that I believe in ghosts. As far as I’m concerned, spirit stuff is a scam. A bunch of people make a lot of money on those ghost tours if you ask me.”

  “I know. You’re perfectly correct, but I need to talk to Percy. He knows something I can use in my show.”

  “What can Percy know? He’s as dumb as paint. Of course, I’m not telling you your business. I just don’t think Percy is the person you’re looking for.”

  “Trust me.” Monica flashed her best smile. “Percy has some unique knowledge that I must have. I wish I could tell you what that is, but I’m afraid that would give away my entire show.” Percy’s sister’s face said she didn’t believe Monica, but what could Percy’s sister do? She told Monica where Percy could be found.

  “There’s a woman I wouldn’t claim as a sister,” Charlie said as they drove to the hospital.

  “You can choose your friends,” Monica said. “But you can’t choose your family.”

  “Don’t remind me.”.

  Chapter Twelve

  Percy Stonewright did indeed look like a rat. To Monica, his pointed nose needed nothing more than some whiskers to complete the image. His pale face and beady eyes indicated that he was not well. Of course, Monica could surmise that from the array of tubes imbedded in Percy’s arms. Healthy people weren’t attached to monitors and bags of drugs.

  “I don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” Percy said.

  “But you knew Elrod?” Monica asked.

  “We didn’t call him Elrod. We called him Pockets on account he never had nothin’ in his pockets. Never saw a man beg for a pint like he done.”

  “I have to be honest with you,” Monica said. “I don’t like what I learned about Elrod, but I need to know about the night he died. You were with him in the pub, correct?”

  “Aye, I was with Pockets, but it’s not like I liked it. He was beggin’ and sassin’ like he always done.”

  “And you got in a fight with him.”

  “Nobody in his right mind would spot that fool a pint. And he had a mouth that wouldn’t stop. So, yeah, we had a go that night.”

  “You lost and left?”

  “I didn’t lose. I ran out of quid. That’s why I left.”

  “You remember how Elrod died?”

  “Damn arse drowned hisself in a puddle. How daft can a man be?”

  “And it was raining.”

  “Like heaven itself was emptying the tub.”

  Monica gave him her very best smile. “And he was just lying there.”

  “Aye, like the drunk…” Percy’s voice faded, Monica nodded.

  “You saw Elrod, face in the puddle. What did you do?”

  “Nothin’.”

  She reached out and touched Percy’s arm. “You’re dying. Anyone can see that. Don’t you want to confess before it’s too late?”

  “I ain’t dyin’.

  Monica looked to Charlie. “Charlotte is a doctor I brought along to ensure you were cogent enough to talk to me. Charlotte, would you read Mr. Stonewright’s chart?”

  Charlie forced a smile and picked up the clipboard hanging on the end of the bed.

  While Monica and Percy looked on, Charlie leafed through the pages. “Have you read this?” Charlie asked Percy.

  “It ain’t like I understand doctor babble,” he answered.

  “I thought not,” Charlie said. “I’ll spare you the medical jargon, but bottom line, I think it’s time to set your affairs in order.”

  Percy paled. “You…you’re sayin’?”

  “I’m afraid I am.”

  “Christ, I thought I was in for some tests. You’re sure?”

  Charlie nodded. “If I were you,” Monica said. “I would do what I could to make things right.”

  He looked at Monica. “It’s not like Pockets didn’t deserve it. He punched me that night, just hauled off and hit me, me who never done him a bit of bad.”

  “No man deserved it more than Elrod. Did you use your hands or did you just step on his head?”

  Percy squinted. “Was you there or somethin’?”

  “You’ll feel so much better,” Monica said softly.

  He rubbed his narrow nose for a moment.

  “Why not? Why not tell you? It ain’t like I got a lot of time left, right doc? The Bobbies won’t come after a corpse.”

  He laughed, a narrow, small laugh, almost a squeal. “Yeah, I seen him, and I knew he was dead out. I could see the water fillin’ up that hole, almost over his nose. I watched it rise, and

  when it went over his nose, he snorted, like he was gonna wake up. But he wasn’t gonna wake up. I saw to that. I wasn’t about to touch him, so I use me boot. He didn’t last long.”

  Percy laughed. “He didn’t last long at all.” Percy laughed harder.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “What are you going to do?” Charlie asked.

  Monica looked over the steering wheel at the traffic. “The only thing I can do. I’m calling the Bobbies.”

  “So, he won’t get away with it. And you, you can tell Elrod that his murderer is going to be served justice.”

  “Which should let Elrod move on and leave my house alone!”

  Monica drove straight to the cemetery. Dusk sank over them as Monica and Charlie walked through the graves, right up to Elrod’s plot, to that headstone that had shown up so prominently on Charlie’s phone. Monica laid her hand on the cold stone and tried her best smile.

  “We did it,” Monica said. “Charlie and I did it. We found the bloke who killed you, and we’re going to turn him in and see justice done. So, you can move on, Elrod. You can go to the light or whatever it is you go to. No need to hang around. No need to haunt anyone who had to take a wee and accidentally wound up on your grave. And I’m sorry about that, I really am. If I had known…Well, I didn’t, but in a way, I’m sort of glad it happened. You’re set free, and I get my house back. So, so, I know you’re as grateful as I am. That’s all, Elrod. We’re grateful.”

  “Do you think that did it?” Charlie asked as they drove back to Monica’s house.

  “God, I hope so,” Monica answered. “I don’t know what else we can do.”

  They walked into the kitchen from the garage, and Monica heard it.

  “What’s that?” Charlie asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Monica answered and started into the hall. That’s where they found a large puddle on the floor and a steady drip from the ceiling. The discoloured plaster showed the extent of the leak.

  “No,” Monica said. “No.”

  Charlie stepped toward the puddle and looked at the ceiling. “Is that the upstairs loo?”<
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  Monica heard the creak above them, and for a moment she didn’t understand. As enlightenment arrived, she grabbed Charlie’s arm and jerked her away.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Just before the ceiling gave way, and the old tub crashed down.

  Monica stood staring at a tub that had splintered the floor and spilled water all the way down the hall. She looked up through the ceiling and spotted the spigot still spewing water that rained down. Tears spilled from her eyes.

  “It…it probably started before you told Elrod,” Charlie said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Monica said. “I can’t take any more.”

  Charlie gathered Monica and held her. “You’ll stay with me for a bit,” Charlie said. “You’ll stay with me.”

  Monica stayed with Charlie for one night. The next day she set about righting the mess that was her home. The needed repairs were begun, and she went to work.

  As stepped into her small office, she vowed to dump the Victorian albatross before it killed her…or Charlie. She contacted the realtor who had been involved in the original purchase.

  “I don’t have anyone looking for a home like yours,” the realtor said. “But we can look into the couple you bought it from. They might be liable for failure to disclose?” The realtor gave her a hopeful yet highly doubtful look.

  “Good luck finding them,” Monica said. “They’re a needle in a haystack in New York.”

  “New York? I don’t get it.”

  “They said they were moving to New York. That’s why I got such a good deal.”

  “I may be mistaken, but I think they’re still in London.”

  Monica’s eye’s bulged, “Do you have an address or phone number?”

  “I believe I can find it.”

  Three hours later, Monica drove to the address the realtor had given her. When she knocked, the door was opened by Bonnie who had sold Monica the house. And Bonnie immediately blushed.

  “I guess you skipped Broadway,” Monica said.

  “I…we…won’t you come in?”

  Monica sipped tea and looked out the window where sat a neat, small garden. The house was nothing like the Victorian. This one was modern and modest, something not apt to contain an angry ghost or two. The couple could probably sleep at night and not have to worry about tubs crashing through the ceiling. Soon, the Halloween decorations would be replaced by Christmas ones.

  “Here,” Bonnie said and set down a plate of biscuits. “Please, help yourself.” Bonnie sat with her tea in hand. She was young and thickish, and to Monica, Bonnie looked pregnant.

  “Thank you.” Monica took a biscuit to be polite. “But getting back to the Victorian.”

  “Ah, yes, that. Well, I suppose you discovered some…irregularities.”

  “It’s haunted,” Monica said. “And I think you knew that when you sold it to me.”

  “I don’t believe in ghosts,” Bonnie said. “But I’ll grant you that there were some inexplicable events while we were there.”

  “Like knocks and blasts of cold air? Like all the appliances setting off their alarms at the same time? Like a gas pipe leaking and almost killing me? Like an overfilled bathtub crashing through the ceiling? Are those the irregularities you were talking about?”

  “We never had a tub fall through the ceiling.”

  “So, I guess the house wasn’t a place where you could raise kids.”

  Bonnie blushed deeper, and Monica knew the truth. Bonnie and husband had unloaded an albatross.

  “I don’t know if I can take legal action,” Monica said. “But I do want the truth. When did the haunting begin?”

  Bonnie bit her lip a moment. “As soon as we moved in. I suppose that was why we got a good deal. But the house hadn’t been lived in for a while. We didn’t have anyone to tell us about the…whatever it is.”

  Monica thought a moment and determined that Elrod’s anger with her had nothing to do with the house. It was haunted long before her drunken escapade. And that meant she had investigated Elrod and the Rat for no payback. Elrod wasn’t haunting anyone.

  “What do you know about the last people to live in the house?” Monica asked.

  “Very little,” Bonnie answered. “I mean, we didn’t need to know anything, if you know what I mean.”

  “But you did some investigation, didn’t you?”

  Bonnie nodded. “Their names were Arnold and Thelma Brooks.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Arnold and Thelma Brooks. Why do those names sound familiar?” Charlie asked.

  “Because we watched the same TV shows. Anyway, it’s all over google if you punch it in.” Monica said. “Arnold Brooks was almost eighty when he married Thelma, a solid twenty-seven. Everyone knew she married him for his money, and he didn’t seem to mind. When he died a few years after the wedding, Thelma thought she was living in high clover. After all, Arnold had showed her his new will, one that left virtually everything to her. Unfortunately, that will never came to light. An older will went into effect, and Arnold’s children siphoned off the money. Thelma received a pittance, nothing like what she had expected. Of course, she sued, and she lost since she never produced the new will.”

  “I remember it now, but what does that have to do with your house?”

  “The children evicted Thelma who swore that they would never enjoy a moment’s peace in that house. No one ever believes in curses of ruination, and I think the children lived quite happily in the house—for a time.”

  “Don’t hold back,” Charlie said. “What happened?”

  “Thelma’s income didn’t match her acquired tastes. In no time, she had lost every penny and was living on the street, or so the story goes. She got pneumonia and died in the hospital. According to the nurse who was with her, Thelma’s dying words were a curse on the Brooks family.”

  “And that’s when the house became haunted?”

  “It appears so.”

  Monica’s car pulled around the workmen’s trucks and into the drive.

  “So, what are we going to do?” Charlie asked.

  Monica led the way into the house. “If you were Thelma, what would you want? What would stop you from haunting this house?”

  “I don’t know,” Charlie answered. “I suppose that if that new will suddenly appeared…but what good would that do Thelma?”

  “I wish I knew, but I think it will do at least two things. It will prove that Arnold loved her, and that she wasn’t a liar or a gold-digger. That might be enough.”

  Inside the house, a number of workers were repairing the damage done by the water and tub. In order to stay out of their way, Monica and Charlie went to the master bedroom.

  “So, you’re saying the new will, the one Thelma believed in, is in this house?” Charlie asked.

  “Where else would it be?”

  “In a pile of ashes if the children found it.”

  “I don’t think Thelma would still be here if the will had been destroyed. After all, the children aren’t here to be haunted. So, if the will is gone, why stay?”

  “Because she’s a crazy bitch who likes to scare the bejabbers out of people?”

  Monica grimaced. “Perhaps. And if that is the case, then there’s nothing we can do.”

  Charlie flopped on the bed and looked at the ceiling. This is a gorgeous room.”

  “I know,” Monica said. “But we have to think like Arnold. Where did he hide the will, and why wasn’t it ever found?”

  “I want to point out that the house has been renovated in the past, and the will never popped up.”

  Monica went to the window and looked down on the garden, a garden that might be spectacular if given some care. “The only way to ensure the will isn’t here is to take the house apart board by board, and we’re not going to do that.”

  “Then, what do you propose?” Charlie asked.

  “I don’t yet know,” Monica said. “I don’t yet know.”

  Charlie slipped off the bed. “I have err
ands, and I’m sure you’re safe as long as the workers are here.

  I’ll come back with dinner. Don’t try to talk me out of staying. You’re not going to be here alone.”

  They hugged, and Monica watched Charlie leave. Monica had been honest. She didn’t have a clue as to how to find the lost will. She looked at the ceiling.

  “But I’m going to find it, Thelma,” Monica said out loud. “I promise.”

  If Thelma’s ghost heard, it didn’t show. Monica sat at a small table and tried to think.

  She was still thinking when the last workman yelled up the stairway that he was leaving. Monica emerged from the bedroom and walked down the stairs. Charlie had not yet returned. Perhaps Thelma knew that because the knocking started.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Monica followed the sound. It wasn’t difficult. The knocking was coming from the kitchen. When she entered, she went to the oak block, removed all the knives, and dropped them in a drawer. While that didn’t guarantee that the knives would remain there, she felt more comfortable.

  “OK, Thelma,” Monica said. “Why did you bring me here?”

  The knocking moved. What had been over the sink moved to the corner, to the pantry. Pantry? What was in the pantry.

  Monica opened the door to the pantry and looked around. The knocking was definitely coming from the pantry, but the cans and supplies weren’t moving. They weren’t making noise. What was? She turned slowly, trying to pinpoint the sound, and she saw it.

  The dumbwaiter.

  She knew the dumbwaiter was a mechanical device used to deliver food and things from the kitchen to the upper floors. But as far as Monica knew, the device hadn’t been used in decades. In fact, she wasn’t at all sure it even worked.

  It was more a curiosity than a working machine. What did Thelma want with a dumbwaiter?