“It’s no wonder she wanted to be rid of the glasses once she knew the story. I imagine it haunted her dreams.”
“I’m sure that made it impossible for her to enjoy using them, once she knew about it,” I agreed.
Mrs. Morrissey adjusted her necklace. “Ah well, so long as you and Trinket are both well, that’s what counts.” She narrowed her eyes. “Aren’t you getting your floors redone soon?”
I nodded. “The work starts tomorrow. Baxter is going to the dog spa, and I’m going to stay at Gardenia Landing.”
“I imagine you’ve heard about the ghosts?”
Did everyone know? “I didn’t know Gardenia Landing was haunted,” I said, hoping I could feign surprise.
“Hmmph,” Mrs. Morrissey said. “I’d be more surprised if it weren’t. What with all that’s happened there.” I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Mrs. Morrissey nodded. “For all their wealth, the Harrison family had more than their share of tragedy. Several children died young, including a daughter who came down with what used to be called consumption. It’s said that the babies were buried in the home’s garden because Mrs. Harrison couldn’t bear the thought of them being far away from her. Then the wife of one of the sons went mad. She drowned in the garden fountain.”
She frowned. “But the worst of it was when Mr. Harrison got caught up in the unpleasantness about those smugglers and that awful Jeremiah Abernathy,” she said, as if it were a story everyone had heard.
Mrs. Morrissey checked the tasteful, diamond-studded watch on her thin wrist. “Oh dear, I’d better run. Stop down sometime at the Archive and I can tell you more. Gardenia Landing’s address has been well-known in Charleston for a long time.”
With that, she bade Baxter and me good night and headed off toward her next social engagement. I watched her go for a moment, then turned back to Baxter, who was eagerly pulling toward the remainder of our route. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” I said, letting him take me down the sidewalk.
I was glad Baxter knew the route, because Mrs. Morrissey had given me several new things to think about. If Gardenia Landing had a sordid past, could that have made the items we sold Rebecca ‘come alive’? I wondered. Obviously, I needed to do some digging, and Mrs. Morrissey seemed quite willing to take me on a tour of the B&B’s dark side.
It was late afternoon, and in Charleston’s picturesque narrow streets and historic alleys, the shadows were lengthening. Only when we were halfway down a pretty little cobblestone sidestreet did I realize that the shadows seemed to be a lot darker than they should be for this time of day. I picked up my pace, but the shadows felt like they were closing in.
Baxter has the heart of lion in the body of a guinea pig. He wheeled on the shadows with a snarl and began to bark a shrill alarm. I scooped Baxter up in my arms and started to run, feeling like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, except instead of flying monkeys, we were being chased by shadows.
I only dared one glance over my shoulder. Shapes were stirring in the shadows, things with long, outstretched arms and grasping hands. I managed a burst of speed, and we ran out into the light of the cross street, right into the path of a Toyota Corolla. The driver slammed on the brakes and laid on the horn.
I was quick to put the Corolla between me and the alley, but the shadows did not venture past the sidewalk. I pantomimed apologies to the driver, and scooted away, glad we were only a block from my house. That’s when I spotted a tall, thin man in a broad-brimmed hat, standing on the corner. I might not have paid any attention, except that he seemed to be staring at me, and although the hat hid much of his face, what I could see looked not just wrinkled, but withered. Something about his silent regard gave me the creeps, and I walked off in the opposite direction as quickly as I could.
No one was around as I unlocked the door, and I let the wash of cold air revive me. Baxter went straight to his water dish, lapping thirstily. I locked the door and pulled the curtains back to look at the street again. I spotted the tall, thin man again. He was slouched so I couldn’t make out his features.
Baxter destracted me for a moment and when I glanced again the man was gone.
After I checked the deadbolt again, I went to the kitchen for some ice water. I poured some kibble into Baxter’s bowl, then opened the fridge to figure out what to make for dinner, and decided I wasn’t hungry.
Trying to get my mind off the attack in the alley and the man outside my house, I flipped through the magazine. One paragraph in an article on organizing closets caught my eye. “Many people hold on to items because they’re really using them as ‘memory anchors’. They’re afraid that if they get rid of the item, they’ll lose the memories they’re reminded of by the piece.”
What if you wanted to get rid of bad memories that a particular item brought to mind? I wondered. What if certain pieces soaked up memories and events more than others?
Normally, I could tell right away whether or not a new item had any kind of supernatural residue, good or bad. That’s what was baffling me about the B&B problem. Did something happen after we sold the pieces that turned regular objects into dangerous items?
Soon enough, I’d get the chance to see the Gardenia Landing ghosts up close. The more I heard about the B&B’s new haunting, the more it looked like trouble.
Chapter Five
I WAS READY for the floor refinishing crew when they knocked on my door bright and early. I’d already dropped Baxter off at the puppy spa. As much as I hated to be away from him for a few days, I knew he would have fun at the dog resort. And while Baxter enjoyed his occasional visits to Trifles and Folly, he wouldn’t like being there alone at night, especially since dogs are sensitive to supernatural activity. Even I didn’t want to be there overnight. I’d lived in the apartment over the shop when I first inherited Trifles and Folly, but being that close to some of the sparklers and spookies was just too much.
Once I’d gone over the instructions for refinishing the floors with the workmen and handed off my keys, I tossed my laptop and luggage into my little blue Mini Cooper and headed for the shop.
Thankfully, there were no new reports of perfectly normal old items suddenly turning into haunted horrors. I basked in the boredom, compared to the unsettling events of the last few days.
“I’ve got a list of contacts for the people who sold us Gardenia Landing’s items,” Teag said. “I made a few calls yesterday evening, and some this morning. Want to know what I found out?”
“Sure,” I said, pouring a cup of coffee to fortify my resolve.
Outside, a steady rain deterred shoppers, giving us the chance to talk undisturbed. Teag leaned against the counter with his cup of tea.
“The tea set came from Avery’s Auctions,” he said. “Belinda Avery remembered it. G.R. Collis silver.
She wasn’t aware of anything unusual in its background, but she said she’d call the former owner and ask.”
“I had to leave a message for the mirror lady,” he continued. “Helen Butler used to own the tablecloth.
She was pretty hesitant about talking at first, but I finally got her story. Seems the tablecloth belonged to her grandmother, and it was used for holiday dinners. One holiday, Mr. Butler’s grandfather had a heart attack at the table and died.”
“Oh my,” I said. “Still, lots of linens and furnishings are present when someone dies, and they don’t become haunted.”
He nodded. “Unless there’s something else at work. The vase originally held funeral flowers and was used for special occasions for fifty years or so. The owner’s daughter sold it because she didn’t like the style.”