by Shelly West
“That’s Thor,” Abigail said, relieved to put off entering the house.
“I hope he gets along with other doggies.”
“He’s well-behaved. Doesn’t pull on the leash when he sees other dogs or anything. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good.” Sally straightened back up and faced the house. “Well, how do you like the place? A bit spooky, huh?”
Abigail looked up at the house and shrugged, finding a certain charm to its exterior. Even from the outside, one suspected that there must’ve been a lot of cubby-holes and mysterious closets within. “I think it’s kinda quaint.”
“Ah, from your accent, I’m guessing you’re a big city girl. I can see how it’d look quaint to you.”
Abigail peered at the front bay window, noticing some words etched into it. “‘Whodunit Antiques—Solving the Mysteries of the Past.’ Huh, kind of an interesting name and slogan. What does it mean?”
“Oh, people come from all over with antiques they inherited, found in the attic, or what have you. And Granny—well, she helps them research the origin of the antique. That is, if she doesn’t know its story already. Your grandmother has quite the encyclopedic memory.”
Abigail didn’t mean to be a cynic, but she had to wonder aloud, “What’s the point when you can just Google stuff nowadays?”
Sally gave her a knowing look. “Maybe you can ‘just Google it’ if it’s about comic books or baseball cards, but some stuff has been lost to the past. Granny can give Google a run for its money when it comes to the more obscure and local antiques, trust me. She’s helped me identify a few books that I couldn’t find much information on.” Sally then added, “I collect antique books, you see.”
Abigail nodded thoughtfully. “Ah.”
Sally shoved her hand into her pocket and retrieved an old key. “Let’s enter, shall we?” Abigail and Thor followed her up the steps of the wooden porch and watched as Sally unlocked the door.
Sally hesitated for a moment, peering through the door’s windows as if there might be a burglar around the corner. She then opened the door slowly, the hinges creaking in the otherwise silent night. Right about now, Abigail was thankful to have such a big dog by her side.
Sally stuck her hand in and flipped on the lights. Abigail followed behind Sally, taking in a deep breath. The house had an odd combination of scents, a mixture of musty old fabric and the perfume of flowers.
Thor decided to take charge, heading straight in and investigating the store. Abigail and Sally both watched as he dutifully cleared each room, his claws clacking on the wood floors as he disappeared into the back rooms. After a minute, he returned to them and gave a satisfied sneeze.
Sally laughed. “Guess it’s all clear then! You won’t have to worry about intruders with this guy patrolling the house, that’s for sure.” Sally then gasped, making Abigail jump. “Oh, I’m such a scatterbrain. I nearly forgot poor Missy. Be right back.” She handed the key over to Abigail and hurried off.
Abigail barely had a chance to catch her breath when Sally reappeared with a dog crate. “Here she is, little Missy!” She set the crate down and unlatched the door, letting a frantic cream and gold Shih Tzu out. The little dog looked like she might explode from all her nervous energy, and that was before she noticed Thor. When Missy laid her big doe eyes on him, she yipped in surprise then ran off into a back room.
“Wow,” was the only word Abigail could muster. She wasn’t a fan of yippy dogs. She hoped Missy wasn’t always like that.
Sally let out a sigh, said, “Well, guess I’ll let you settle in. The downstairs, as you can see, is mostly the store, but there’s a kitchen in the back. There are two rooms upstairs. One’s Grandma’s room and the other is a guest room where you can sleep. There’s also a spiral staircase up to the attic, but I don’t recommend going up there all by yourself. It’s pretty spooky. Oh, and…” She pulled out a business card and handed it to Abigail. “Here’s my number, in case you need directions or have any questions—any questions at all! Granny should be up and running soon, but until then, feel free to call me for any reason.”
Abigail pocketed the card. “Thank you. Will do.”
Sally picked up the crate, left, and the house fell silent once more. Boy, was everyone around here as friendly and energetic as Sally? Abigail was lucky if she got so much as a friendly glance back in the city, with everyone being so busy with their own lives.
But then again, perhaps this town wasn’t so friendly deep down. Abigail rarely heard about old ladies getting bonked over the head back in Boston. What could ever possess a person to do that, anyway?
Abigail certainly wasn’t about to let it go. Whoever assaulted Grandma was still out there, and who knew how reliable the police were in such a Podunk town? Come daylight, Abigail planned on doing a bit of investigating herself.
Abigail returned to her car to get her suitcase and backpack, then brought them inside as she carefully locked the front door. She took a moment to forage for Thor’s food and bowls, figuring he’d be hungry or at least thirsty. Oddly enough, she wasn’t hungry in the slightest, but she wrote it off as nerves.
“Come on, Thor,” she said. “Let’s find the kitchen.”
They walked past the shop area to the back room where she found a roomy kitchen and a small living room. She flipped on a light and found a spot to place Thor’s bowls, which she filled before calling him over. Thor lapped up the water as Abigail sat at the table, tired. Then she remembered. “Missy!”
She called out the dog’s name as she headed back into the store, finding an empty dog bed on the floor by the stairs. Abigail glanced around the quiet room. “Guess we’ll search for Missy in the morning.” She figured the dog could borrow from Thor’s bowls if she needed to in the meanwhile.
Once Thor had his fill, she whistled for him to follow her as she grabbed her bags and started up the stairs.
Even though she had her massive dog with her, she still hurried up each step as if someone might appear behind her at any moment. Someone had attacked Grandma only the night before, so her imagination couldn’t help but run wild.
Just as she was halfway up the stairs, an ominous bang echoed from the store, followed by a very loud grandfather clock chiming. Dong, dong, dong…
Given the time of night, it was probably going to chime seven more times, but Abigail didn’t stick around for the rest. After the first bell chimed, she had bolted to the top of the stairs.
Once she reached the landing, she peeked into the first door in the hallway, finding a large master bedroom with a bathroom beside it. She continued down the hall, finding at the end of it a spiral staircase to the third floor, along with another door to a smaller room facing the street.
“This will do nicely, right, Thor?” Light from the street cast a soft blue hue through the sheer curtained window into the darkened room. She couldn’t see much, but it looked homey enough.
Thor snorted, which suggested to her he’d prefer the larger room, but she suspected that was Grandma’s.
“Too bad. This is plenty of room for us.” She flipped on a small table lamp, illuminating the room. Abigail placed her backpack and small suitcase at the foot of an antique white metal bed. Just seeing its cozy comforter made Abigail want to go straight to sleep.
She closed the door, turned off the light, and pulled the thick flowery comforter back as she kicked off her shoes and climbed in. Thor followed, claiming the foot of the bed so he could watch the door.
Abigail lowered her head onto the thick feather pillow, worried for a few minutes that she might not fall asleep with all this excitement. But, thankfully, her exhaustion was stronger than her excitement, and she soon found herself drifting off.
Chapter 5
The sound of chirping birds pulled Abigail out of her deep slumber. She thought it was quaint at first—until her phone revealed to her that it was 5 a.m. “What?” she shouted upon seeing the time, startling Thor from his dreams. She plopped back down in the b
ed and groaned. “Don’t you birds know it’s the weekend?” Regardless, it was no use cursing the songbirds; she was wide awake now.
Sirens, horns, random yelling—those were all things her brain had learned to tune out after years of living deep in Boston. But cute little chirping birds? She wasn’t used to that one bit.
Abigail rubbed her eyes and looked around the room. She had been so tired last night that she barely remembered getting into bed. Last night, this room had seemed like it was made up for guests, though now that she could get a better look, she realized the room was something more.
The decorations were oddly feminine and whimsical, like those of a child’s. Abigail wanted to poke around, but at the same time she didn’t want to intrude too much. She decided to investigate only what had been left out in the open, so as to not be too nosy.
Something on the nightstand caught her eye: an old diary, once again seeming to belong to a child. She decided to open it up, just for a quick look. If it seemed too personal, she’d set it down right back where she found it.
When she opened the first page, Abigail didn’t expect to find her mother’s name in it.
‘Dear Diary,’ the messy handwriting began. ‘You may not know me yet, but you’re about to! The name’s Sarah Lane! I’m 10, and I live with my mom and dad in an old old house. I don’t have any pets but I sometimes play with the neighbor’s cat.
‘I’m a pretty good bug catcher. Today, I caught a grasshopper. I put him in an empty lemonade pitcher with some dirt and leaves. My mom says I can keep him for the night, but I have to let him out in the morning so he can go back to his wife and children.
‘I’m sorry to cut this short, Diary, but I have to go to bed early for school tomorrow. Don’t worry, though. You’ll be hearing from me again soon!’
Abigail stifled a laugh and took out her phone to take a picture of the entry for posterity. She half wanted to show it to her mother, but she had a feeling the response would be more negative than positive.
Abigail started scanning the diary, looking for any hint of what tore the family apart. She got about halfway with no luck, finding only the musings of a carefree child. Whatever had happened, it must’ve occurred later in her mother’s life.
Worry started to set in as Abigail wondered what exactly had torn the family apart. She hoped whatever caused the separation wasn’t Grandma’s fault. She decided to stop snooping around, wanting to hear the story in Grandma’s own words instead.
Abigail got dressed, Thor staring at her like she was crazy all the while. “Yeah, I know it’s early,” she said. “But we have a long day ahead of us.” Thor plopped his head back down, falling right back to sleep. Abigail wasn’t about to head downstairs by herself, so she mumbled, “Want a treat?”
Somehow, Thor found the energy to jump right up and come to her side.
She didn’t expect him to call her bluff. “Let’s… erm, see if Grandma keeps any treats around for Missy.” As she headed down the hall, she paused, noticing framed pictures on the wall of people she didn’t recognize.
These people could’ve been long-lost relatives for all she knew. She studied the pictures a little more closely until she found a few photos of herself.
Abigail figured these were the pictures Sally had mentioned. But how did Grandma get a hold of them? Abigail grabbed one of the frames and turned it around, seeing her mother’s handwriting on the back of the photo. ‘Abigail, Grade 8’ it read.
“Huh…” Abigail hung the picture back up and frowned to herself. So her mother sent Grandma these photos? Abigail had to wonder why, when her mother didn’t even acknowledge Grandma’s existence to her for all these years. Maybe her mother had some pity for the old woman… Though knowing her mother, it was probably a gesture made out of spite.
Abigail had a sudden urge to call her mother up and demand an explanation, but she knew how useless it was trying to get any truth out of her. Her mother tended to run away from her issues, cutting off people at the drop of a hat to avoid confrontation. Now Abigail would have to make up for her mother’s cowardice and uncover what happened.
But not until Grandma woke up, of course.
*
The stairs creaked with each step as Abigail made her way down. Now that she could get a look at the place in the morning light, she had to stop and soak it all in.
The whole house was crammed with antiques. From shelf-to-shelf and wall-to-wall, there didn’t seem to be a square inch of the place that didn’t have something to look at.
And yet, somehow, it all came together, warmth emanating from the wooden furniture, the faded paint on the toys, the stained glass of various lamps, and the gold gilt decorations on several antique books.
Abigail then noticed a plethora of hanging plants, all in beautiful shape. “Jeez,” she mumbled to herself. “And I can barely keep a cactus alive…” She wondered if she should water them, then realized the plants were the last thing she needed to worry about. It was Missy who could probably use some water right now!
“Missy,” Abigail called out in the most coaxing voice she could muster. She heard the jingle of Missy’s dog tags, but saw no hint of the dog. “Skittish little thing, aren’t you?” Abigail said as she peaked around various corners.
She sighed before noticing two dog bowls on the floor, presumably one for water and one for kibble. Abigail went on the hunt for Missy’s food, finding a bag in the nearby dresser. Perhaps the sound of kibble filling the dog’s food bowl would bring her out.
As Abigail filled up the bowl, Thor watched from the bottom of the stairs, licking his chops. “No,” Abigail tutted him. “You’re going to let her eat, mister.” She then opened the door to the front porch and motioned that Thor sit outside. She knew he’d stay put—and there was the added bonus of him keeping guard too, as she was a little worried about the granny-bonker who was still on the loose.
When she headed back inside, she found the ever-elusive Missy gobbling up her kibble. The moment the dog spotted Abigail, however, she bolted back into her hiding place.
“Am I that intimidating?” Abigail mumbled. Well, perhaps it had nothing to do with her at all, and had more to do with the giant that was Thor. If that were the case, then Abigail didn’t blame the dog. Thor’s front leg probably weighed as much as Missy’s entire body.
“Come on, Missy,” she attempted. “Wanna go outside?”
The prospect of going outside did little to excite the frightful dog. Weird. She hadn’t been out since Sally brought her over, so what was her deal?
Abigail headed toward the back of the house, curious what the backyard situation was like. She found the back door, seeing a doggy door just big enough for Missy. “Oh, so she takes care of herself,” Abigail surmised, opening the door to see a large fenced-in backyard.
Besides a few benches and bricked-in gardens, she noticed a shed, the door partway open, with a pink golf cart inside. She wondered if that was how Grandma got around, because she could hardly imagine the old woman walking everywhere, and she hadn’t seen a car in the parking lot.
She returned inside to see Missy had managed to finish what was left of her breakfast, besides a few kibbles that had fallen on the floor. Abigail bent down to clean up the mess when she noticed something glinting in the sunlight. A closer look revealed some broken glass underneath the cabinet. Odd, since Grandma seemed like a tidy person.
That was when Abigail heard Thor growling at something on the porch.
Chapter 6
Abigail peered out the front door’s window, wondering who would be here at such an early hour. Could it be the intruder, wanting to cover up his tracks? She shook her head, telling herself not to be so paranoid.
Outside stood a harmless-looking man about her age, in his later twenties. He was a lanky fellow, one of the taller men she’d ever seen, and he might’ve been intimidating if he weren’t wearing such a flowery shirt.
The man looked surprised as he stood there with his hands up, as if Thor w
ere about to arrest him. Abigail opened the door and stepped out, putting a hand on Thor’s head. “Easy, Thor.” The Great Dane sat down, but he didn’t take his eyes off the stranger for a second.
The man stared at her dumbly, seeming to have trouble introducing himself. Too tired to care, Abigail said, “Sorry, sir, we’re closed. You’ll have to come back some other time.”
The man finally found his words. “I-I just wanted to check in on Mrs. Lane’s place. Water her plants. I wasn’t sure if anyone else was going to.”
Abigail spotted a house key in his hand, which he quickly tucked into his back pocket. That meant he had easy access to the house, and it seemed like he thought he could barge in at any time… Abigail took a step forward, demanding, “And just who are you?”
He took a step back, aghast at her audacity. After all, she barely stood as high as his chest. “Lee,” he said, once he gathered himself. “Lee Lebeau. And who are you?”
“Mrs. Lane’s granddaughter.”
Lee’s tone became just as questioning as her own: “I didn’t know Mrs. Lane had a granddaughter.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
An awkward silence fell between them, before Lee questioned further, “Are you staying long?”
“No idea. At the very least I’m staying until she’s well again.”
“Oh, they expect her to get better? Because I heard she wasn’t likely to recover.”
Abigail rolled her eyes at the exaggerated gossip. Or was it wishful thinking on his part, because Grandma knew something she shouldn’t? “Yes, the doctors say they will bring her out of it soon, when she’s stable enough. And hopefully once she does, she can tell us exactly who attacked her.” Abigail narrowed her eyes at Lee, looking for any hint of alarm in his expression.
