Leighann Dobbs - Mystic Notch 02 - A Spirited Tail (3 page)

Gertie picked up the bag she’d set on the grass beside her. It reminded me of an old doctor’s bag from the 1800s. I found myself thinking it wouldn’t surprise me to find it was that old … or even that Gertie herself was.  

More popping noises came from her knees as she squatted beside Ranger. 

“You be a good boy, now.” She looked from the dog to me. “You’re in good hands.”

Ranger’s big brown eyes followed Gertie as she stood and walked to her car.

“Okay, boy. Let’s go out front.” I tugged the rope. Ranger looked up at me uncertainly, then stood and followed me, taking one heart-breaking glance back at Bruce.

Ophelia turned from her post at the open doorway where she was peering into the house, trying to get a glimpse of what was inside. 

“It’s just like he said. Everything is in here,” she whispered, then frowned at Ranger. “Are you taking him?”

“Yep. Well, at least until I can find him a good home. Maybe one of Bruce’s relatives wants him.”

“Well, don’t bring him near my car.  Tatters is in there and I don’t think she likes dogs.”

I jerked my head around to stare at her brand new Lincoln with the cream-colored leather interior. I was relieved to see that she had the windows cracked and the air conditioning on so the cat wouldn’t overheat, but a little surprised that she brought her cat to work with her. As I stared at the car, a little black and white head poked up on the passenger side. I noticed one of its ears was still a little tattered. The engine of the car purred so quietly, I hadn’t even noticed it was running.

I’d been surprised earlier that summer when Ophelia had adopted the little homeless kitten with the tattered ear, because I couldn’t picture the selfish real estate agent caring for anything but herself. She’d proved me wrong, and it looked like she’d grown very attached to the kitten. 

“You bring your cat to work with you?”

“Yes, of course. Tatters comes to the office with me every day. Just like you bring Pandora with you to the bookstore. You don’t think I’d leave her home alone, do you?”

I glanced down at Ranger and wondered if he liked cats. Then I wondered if Pandora, the cat I’d inherited along with the bookstore and house, liked dogs. I took Pandora to the bookstore with me every day and, since that was where I was headed after I finished up here, I guessed I was going to find out soon enough.  

The ambulance arrived, interrupting my vision of bookshelves clattering to the ground spilling books all over my store as Ranger frantically tried to escape the hissing and clawing cat.

When the EMT’s appeared from the back with the body on a stretcher, Ranger stood at attention and let out a series of barks. I put a reassuring hand on his head as they loaded his former master into the back. He looked up at me with pleading eyes that squeezed my heart.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get a good home.”

They shut the door on the ambulance and Ranger lay down, pushed out his breath in a big sigh and curled in a ball, looking for all the world as if the life had been drained from him. 

Gus came around the corner, snapping off her gloves just as Jimmy appeared in the doorway.

“Did you find anything in there?” she asked.

“Nope. It doesn’t look like anyone had been in here in years.” Jimmy pointed to the floor. “The dust hasn’t been disturbed in any of the rooms.”

Gus nodded to Ophelia and me. “Okay. I guess you two can go in, but if you find anything suspicious, let me know.”

“Great!” Ophelia practically pushed Jimmy out of the way in her haste to get inside. I hesitated, looking down at Ranger. He appeared to be sleeping, but I wondered if he’d be okay out here while I was inside. I didn’t want him to wander off, so I looked for a safe place to tie the other end of the rope where he couldn’t get tangled or stuck. I squatted and slipped my fingers under his collar, just to make sure it was loose enough that he could slip it off if he did somehow get tangled in the rope.

Jimmy eased his way down the steps, giving Ranger a wide berth. 

“He won’t bite,” I said as I made a loose knot in the rope.

Jimmy cast a few glances in the dog’s direction. Ranger opened one eye and looked at Jimmy, then sighed and closed it again.

I rubbed Rangers ears and he rewarded me with a meager twitch of his tail. “See, he likes being petted.”

Jimmy tentatively held out his hand and Ranger opened both eyes while he sniffed at it. Stretching even closer, Jimmy touched the dog’s head, petting him cautiously with his fingertips.  Ranger gave him an unenthusiastic tail wag and then tucked his head back under his tail and went to sleep. 

“I guess he’s probably kind of depressed,” Jimmy said.

“You comin’?” Gus called from the car. Jimmy whipped around and scurried off toward her. 

Gus opened the driver’s door, then looked over the top of it at me, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Now remember, Willa, no investigating or I’ll have to tell Striker on you.”

I felt my face flush at the mention of the handsome sheriff from nearby Dixford Pass. I’d met him during the investigation for the last dead body I’d found and we’d been on a few dates. A few very good dates. Just the thought of him made my heart flutter like a teenager, which felt downright embarrassing at the age of forty-eight. 

I remembered that Striker had lots of homicide experience and Gus had none and found myself hoping she’d call him in to consult on the case. Which made my face even warmer and tied my tongue in a knot.

Gus’ laugh interrupted my thoughts and I tried to give her a mean look. 

“Seriously, Willa, A killer is on the loose and I don’t want you getting hurt, so no investigating.”

“I know. I’ll stay out of it.” 

“Good. See ya.” Gus slipped into the driver’s seat and started up the car.

I turned toward the open door as she drove away, glancing at the windows to see if my ghostly friend was there waiting for me. He wasn’t. 

“Willa, are you coming? Better bring a flashlight. It’s kind of dark in here.” Ophelia’s voice drifted out from somewhere in the house.

The few windows that hadn’t been boarded up let minimal light into the house. I hadn’t thought to bring a flashlight, though, so I guessed my eyes would just have to get used to the dark. 

Hesitating on the threshold, I took a quick look back at the warm, sunny outdoors before heading into the dark gloom of the house.

Chapter Three

The blanket of humidity left by the rain shower made my red curls frizz into an unruly mess.  I pushed the hair out of my eyes as I looked around the large foyer. To my right, a wide staircase curved upwards, the ornately carved railing thick with dust. 

An opening on my left led to what appeared to be a living room. The sheet-covered furniture gave the dimly lit room an eerie appearance.  Shafts of sunlight filtered in between the cracks of the boards used to cover up the windows. It was the perfect setting for a ghost … except there was no sign of the one who had seemed so anxious to talk to me before.

“Come in here and check out this china—it’s Limoges!” Ophelia’s excited squeal rang out from the end of the hall and I followed it to a butler’s pantry. Ophelia had her head buried in a cabinet, the paneled, mahogany doors wide open. 

“It’s a full set.” Ophelia’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “And look at this cut crystal.”

I opened another cabinet to reveal a hoard of sterling silver candlesticks, salt shakers and serving trays. “Looks like the nephew is going to make a bundle just on the contents of the house alone.”

“Yep. And the house isn’t actually in that bad of shape on the inside.” Ophelia squinted into the dark kitchen where I could barely make out a large commercial range and dark wood cabinets complete with Victorian drop knobs. “Did you find the library?”

“Not yet.” 

“I think it’s over there.” Ophelia pointed to a hallway on the left. “I’m going to poke around in here and uncover some of the furniture while you check out the books. I lost a lot of time with everything going on this morning so I only have about a half hour now before I have to meet another client.”

“Me, too. I have to open the shop. I’ll just take a quick look now and come back later to do a more in-depth evaluation.” 

Ophelia nodded, then returned to rummaging in the cabinets and I headed off in the direction she’d indicated. On my way, I kept my eyes peeled for the ghost, but he didn’t seem to be around. Probably just as well, since I couldn’t actually talk to him in front of Ophelia without her thinking I was crazy.

The house was bigger than it had looked from the outside. I passed a dining room complete with an ornate chandelier, a bathroom, and a strange room lined in dark velvet drapes that had only a large oval table and chairs in the middle. 

The ceilings were twelve feet high and the hallway paneled with mahogany.  A large portrait of a man in eighteenth century garb hung on one wall. My neck prickled as I looked at it and I was reminded of those old movies where the eyes of the portraits move to follow the innocent victim.  I walked past, then stopped short and turned quickly. The eyes didn’t move, and I laughed at myself for being so silly.

The further I got into the hallway, the darker it became, but I could see one room at the end that had light spilling from it. I headed toward it and found myself standing in the doorway of one of the most stunning private libraries I’d ever seen.

Bookshelves covered three of the walls from floor to the twenty-foot high ceiling. The fourth wall was dominated by a fieldstone fireplace, the opening almost large enough for me to stand in. A moose head mounted in the center kept watch over the room. 

The tall, hand-rounded top windows were framed by long, sweeping curtains. A sheet-draped sofa sat opposite the fireplace with a chair on either side. A rolltop desk sat open at one end of the room. A pen and paper lay on top, almost as if the former inhabitant had just gotten up from writing. But the best part of the room was the scent of leather and vanilla musk—the smell of old books.

I stepped inside as if in a dream. Looking down at the rug, I could see it was once a beautifully colored oriental, but centuries of dust had dulled the color. I didn’t care so much about that, though. It was the books that held my interest.

I started at the bookshelf closest to me, just looking at first. The dust lay thick on the shelves and tops of the books, but otherwise, most of the volumes seemed to be in good condition. Most were leather-bound, which would add to the value.  

Walking down the row of bookcases, I could see the previous owner had varied tastes. My heart thudded with excitement as I walked past volumes of poems, history books and some of the popular novels from the 1950s and ‘60s. A polished mahogany ladder ran on a track around the room allowing access to the books on the higher shelves, but I didn’t need to venture up there yet—I had plenty to occupy me within reach.

At the end of the row, I noticed a large section devoted to books on the occult, including some rare books from the 1700s, and a later edition of Leonardo Vairo’s
Major Treatise of Demonology: Three Books of Charms, Spells & Sorceries
.  I knew the original had been printed in the 1500s, but this book` surely couldn’t be that old. If it was, it was worth thousands.  

Glancing around the room, I realized the books in here could be worth tens of thousands … maybe even more. I had yet to crack one of them open and was itching to find out if any were first editions.

I moved away from the occult section. Call me superstitious, but I felt creeped out looking at books on the occult in a haunted, abandoned house, outside of which, a murder had just happened. I stopped in front of an early edition of Poe’s
The Raven
, its spine bound in tan leather with stamped gold lettering. I reached out, pulling the spine toward me gently with my index finger to reveal the gold-leaf tops of the pages inside. A cloud of dust floated out, causing me to sneeze and dislodge more dust, causing more sneezing.

After the sneezing stopped, I pulled the book out and opened it carefully. A slightly spicy mildew aroma wafted out and I closed my eyes, savoring the smell. Inside, the yellowed paper was of high quality, almost silky to the touch. I thumbed through the book, engrossed in looking at the fine print and wonderful illustrations.

“Hands off the books!”

I spun around, the rapid movement causing a sharp pain in my leg. Fumbling the book, I dove forward, catching it just in time. My heart thudded against my ribcage and I sucked in a deep breath, cradling the book to my chest. 

“Who are you?” I demanded of the swirling mist before me, which I figured was the ghost I’d seen in the window earlier. 

At first, I’d just assumed it would be the ghost of the recently deceased, but now that he was in front of me, I could see it wasn’t. The face and hair looked different, though it was hard to tell through all the swirling mist. This gentleman was dressed in formal-wear and was somewhat old-fashioned looking, with a large mustache and a regal air about him.

“I’m Charles Van Dorn.” The ghost bristled at me. “Who might you be and what are you doing with my books?”

“I’m Willa Chance. I own the bookstore downtown.” I resisted the urge to extend my hand out for a handshake.

“Last Chance Books?” Van Dorn cocked an eyebrow at me, referring to the bookstore I’d inherited from my grandmother.

I nodded, glancing uneasily toward the door. Could Ophelia hear us? Hopefully, she was too busy with the china and silver to come looking for me down here. 

“You must be Anna’s granddaughter, then. She was a nice woman.” Van Dorn leaned in toward me as if sharing a secret. “She parted the curtain to the other side a while ago.”

I nodded, waiting patiently for him to get to what he wanted.

Van Dorn glanced out the window, where the crime scene techs were still taking pictures and searching for evidence. “What is going on here? It’s like Grand Central Station. I really just want to be left alone in my own home … like I have been for all these years.”

“There was a murder out there.” I jerked my chin toward the window.