Mystery of the Windowed Closet Read online

  “What do you mean by that?” she asked.

  “I was just thinking. Friday night when I was in the shower, I turned the hot water faucet slightly to make the water warmer. I only turned it slightly, but it seemed like it went from warm to extremely hot. I had to literally jump out of the way to keep from getting scalded.”

  After what looked like a few moments of thought she replied, “Then your manifestations may be harmful.

  If you’re going back by yourself during the week, I’d use caution until we can figure out why they’re so restless.”

  “You said ‘we’. Do you mean that literally?”

  “Hell yes! You didn’t think I’d just sit here listening and not want to get involved, do you? When are you going back?”

  “I guess you realize you already answered the question I was going to ask. I’m going to try and go back this Friday if I can get the day off again.”

  With what she said, I was beginning to realize maybe these events were on purpose, and the spirits I inherited with the house weren’t harmless, as Delores suggested. With her help, I’d like to see if I can find out more about these spirits. Don sat silent during our discussion and I think by the look on his face, he would have liked the opportunity to make an excuse to be busy.

  Delores enthusiastically exclaimed, “What time will you pick us up?”

  “How about 10 o’clock? I was thinking about staying a few extra hours every day and getting ahead of my work. If I’m caught up, there’s no reason why my boss wouldn’t let me take off this Friday again. After listening to you, I absolutely have to try and get a handle on this thing.”

  “Why 10 o’clock: why so late?” she asked.

  “Ok! How about you telling me, when should I pick you up?”

  “We’ll be ready at 8 o’clock, if that’s ok with you?”

  “Fine, I’ll see you then.”

  I was happy she wanted to leave earlier, and the real reason I said 10, was not to impose on their already generous offer to go.

  After saying goodnight I returned to my apartment. I had some contracts at home I could work on just to get ahead of things at the office, and began delving into the small details of the contracts. Before I realized it, when I glanced at the clock, it was already past 11:00. I told myself, ‘There, that’s finished. I’ll be well ahead of things at the office.’ Preparing for bed, I began rehashing my conversation with Delores. Brushing my teeth, I began to laugh thinking about Don’s facial reaction to being involuntarily volunteered. Glancing up in the bathroom mirror I said, “Boo!” Writing the word on the steam covered mirror, and taking the conversation out of my mind for the rest of the night, I went to bed.

  All week as hard as I tried, I couldn’t keep from thinking about the spirits at the farm. They kept invading my mind and I had to fight back the thought so it wouldn’t interrupt my work. I stayed late every day to get contracts finished, and on Thursday asked my boss Mr. Johnson, if I could take off again on Friday.

  “Did you take care of the policy from last Thursday? I tried to get you before you left the office,” he asked.

  “Yes, I did Mr. Johnson. I saw your note and called Mr. Lawrence first thing Monday morning. I worked on a policy with him before. He remembered me and welcomed my services again.”

  “I thought you wrote a policy for him. That’s why I wanted you to handle it.”

  “I just finished, it’s on your desk for approval.”

  “You’re a valuable asset to the company Ray. As long as you’re on top of everything, I can’t see any reason to deny you.”

  “Thanks Mr. Johnson. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Early Friday morning, I drove to Don’s house to pick them up. When I pulled onto their street, I saw them anxiously waiting at the curb.

  As I pulled to the curb Don said, “Good morning Ray. I see you didn’t have any problem getting off work.”

  “No, I wrote a few big policies this week. They’re happy about that.”

  “Is old Mr. Johnson still your boss?” he asked.

  “Yes, he’s due to retire soon. I don’t know who’ll take over, but I have a strong suspicion he’s grooming me as his replacement.”

  “I remember Mr. Johnson from when I worked there, he’s a good egg. The company’s going to miss his services. Does he still wear a bow tie?”

  “Yes, he still wears a bowtie, and you’re right- They’re really going to miss his services. He mentioned to me he’s thinking about relocating to Florida after he retires. Since his wife died several years ago, and he doesn’t have any relatives, I think that’s a good move on his part.”

  “Yeah, he didn’t have children,” Don replied.

  I helped load their bags in the trunk, then headed out hitting the turnpike north, talking about my experience pretty much all the way to where we exit.

  On the way, Delores questioned me about what the farm looked like and why I bought it.

  “Look, Delores, staying overnight at the farm is out of the question. There’s too much work to be done, and I don’t have furniture to accommodate sleeping. It would be alright for a man like me or Don to rough it, but not for a woman.”

  Don replied, “Sorry to disappoint you Ray, but I don’t want to stay there either.”

  Delores looked disappointed, but hearing me say I didn’t have any sleeping accommodations didn’t fight the issue.

  “How were you able to stay there overnight?” she asked.

  “I have my sleeping bag. I roll it open on the couch. It’s fine. There’s a Comfort Inn close by. We’ll check in there and make the 17- mile trip to the farm every day.”

  Don seemed more relieved than Delores. Her interest in the psychic world took preference over everything else in her life, even her own comfort. I guess dealing with different spiritual situations made her more callous and less afraid of spirits. Where, on the other hand, Don was less afraid of spirits, especially the ones that read, ‘Johnny Walker Red or Johnny Walker Black Scotch.’ Driving through the Poconos, it was colorful with the autumn leaves and we finally arrived at the Comfort Inn in Wysox, a small town just outside the city of Towanda.

  Chapter 8

  After checking in, we unloaded our bags into adjoining rooms. A few minutes after putting my bags down, there was a knock at the door.

  “Hey Ray, are you ready to eat? I’m kind of hungry,” Don said.

  I replied, “There’s a small restaurant in town near where I live. We could have lunch there, unless you’re hungry now and don’t want to wait.”

  Delores replied instantly, “We’ll wait; I’m enjoying the trip. The fall colors are beautiful, they haven’t quite changed in the city yet.”

  As Don closed the door, I could hear him grumbling in a low but audible tone. “Thanks a lot answering for me Delores about postponing lunch, but I’m hungry now,” he continued in a louder tone, “We passed a few nice restaurants right here in town,” She ignored him as we walked to the car.

  I commented, “Delores, up here, the leaves turn color earlier. Sometimes with an early snow, they’d be almost all gone by now. The people that live up here have a funny saying: ‘You have to buy a Halloween Costume big enough to fit over a snow suit.’

  She laughed as we headed out for Canton. The 17-mile drive to the farm passes through two small enclaves of houses, not really big enough to be considered a town.

  The houses are a smattering of designs from different periods in the past, between the late 1700s, a few built right after the Civil War, and a few Victorian homes, quite an expanse of time.

  Pointing to one, I asked, “Do you see that style house?”

  “Yes: Why?” Don asked.

  “The design is called French Federalist. They were built for those that were able to escape the guillotine during the French Revolution. Some of the houses have been added to since then, but they�
��re still distinguishable from the newer homes. There’s even an area here called French Azilum. It was set aside for Marie Antoinette and her entourage, but she never escaped. The area’s now a historical site.”

  Delores replied, “I guess that’s the reason there are so many French names. I noticed as we passed through them. La Plume, Wysox, Leroy, Laporte, they’re all very French.”

  I turned off the main road onto the dirt road leading to the farm.

  “Is this the road the farm’s on?” Don asked.

  “Yes.”

  As we approached Frank’s house, he remarked, “Is this it?”

  “No, that’s where my neighbor Frank and his wife June live. That’s my house and barn at the top of the hill.”

  The grade uphill is a little steeper, and at the top I pulled up in front of the barn.

  “So, this is it?” Getting out of the car, Don looked back down the hill at the dust still settling from the dirt road. “You better be prepared to do a lot of car washing.”

  “I know Don. I didn’t say living in the country was perfect, but I think the positives outweigh the negatives.”

  As we walked up the front lawn from the barn, they were taking in the panorama of the countryside. Delores seemed to enjoy the view.

  “Look, Don! You can see across the valley. Those farms on that distant hill must be two miles away.”

  “Yeah Ray, you’re right. It does have a hell of a view. Why don’t we get lunch before looking at the inside of the house?” he suggested.

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  Returning to the car, we drove to the Chatterbox for a late lunch. Most of the crowd was already gone, and finding an empty table wasn’t a problem. After sitting down, Ruthie who served me twice before, came to our table handing us menus.

  After Delores opened it, she quickly closed it again. Laughing, she said, “The cost of what all three of us will eat wouldn’t buy one meal in Philadelphia.”

  The waitress, hearing what she said replied with a smile__ “Expensive, ain’t it?” then took our order.

  “I can’t get over this menu. A full breakfast for six bucks, that’s a real scream.”

  “Yes, I know. It’s the same thing I thought when I looked at it. The bread’s homemade too. So, what do you think of the property without being able to judge the inside?”

  Don said, “I like the lay of the land with the cleared fields and the wooded mountain as the backdrop. I know whatever condition the house is in, with what you know about working with tools, the place would be habitable in no time. But I’ll reserve my full opinion until I get a chance to see the inside.”

  When Ruthie returned with our food she asked, “Are these friends from the city to help you with the work?”

  “No Ruthie, they’re just friends I’m showing the property to.”

  “So you remembered my name huh?” she replied before continuing, “Makes me feel real important!”

  Turning to Delores and Don she said, “Pleased to meet ya! Hope you enjoy your lunch.”

  “Thanks, I’m sure we will.” Delores replied.

  Ed, Frank’s friend from the coffee clutch approached our table.

  “Hello Ray, is this a work party?”

  “No Ed, just friends visiting.”

  Don stood up and shook his hand. “Nice country you have here.”

  “Yeah, we like it!” Ed replied, “Ray, I saw Frank this past week. He told me you mentioned my name.”

  “Yes, I told him you introduced yourself to me.”

  “Yeah, me and Frank go back, oh; about 60 years. We went to school together. Well, nice meetin’ you folks.” as he headed for the door.

  After he walked away, Delores looked at me remarking, “It didn’t take you long to start knowing people.”

  “No, that’s life in a small town.”

  Still amused at the menu, she kept commenting on it.

  After finishing our meal we drove back to the farm. When we pulled up in front of the barn, Delores said, “I want to go inside and examine it first.”

  Without telling her which section of the barn was older, she entered the newer section with Don and me following.

  “Be careful where you’re stepping,” I told them, “A few of the floor boards are soft. I wouldn’t want you to fall through.”

  Walking carefully looking at the floor, she was about to pass through to the older side, then suddenly hesitated.

  “I feel an immediate change in temperature right here.”

  I guess I was right, she sensed the same thing I had. I never mentioned where the barns came together, but she stopped at the exact spot. The spot where I felt the temperature change when the hairs on the back of my neck rose. Continuing through she exited the side of the barn where my car was parked. We walked up the front lawn to the porch and I took out the keys for the front door.

  Unlocking it, I pushed it open, Delores immediately stepped back.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, “Is the place that much of a shock?”

  “No, but when you opened the door, I felt an immediate presence. Even before I stepped inside.”

  After going in the house, it was a little chilly from me having the thermostat turned down in my absence all week. I went to the dining room and raised the temperature to 72 degrees and the heater kicked on. After closing the door, I took them on a tour of the house.

  Don looked around and said, “Ray, I’ve seen some piss-poor properties you fixed up before like that duplex, but this place has that beat by a mile. This has to be one of the most challenging I’ve ever seen. I could never see your ex living here.”

  Replying, “I know, and to quote the waitress that served us lunch the first day I met her, ‘Maybe that’s why she’s an ex.” they laughed.

  “It seems like everyone up here don’t have any trouble speaking their mind.” Delores commented.

  “That’s for sure.”

  When we reached the landing on the second floor, I pointed out the windowed closet to Delores. “This is where I saw the apparition of the woman go. The image of a toddler’s leg was sticking out from behind several bolts of cloth that were leaning against the wall in that corner,” pointing to it.

  She laughed at my description of the closet with a window.

  “Why the laughter, do you know something I don’t?”

  Still chuckling she answered, “It’s probably a sewing room. It’s a place where the woman of the house could recluse herself and make or mend clothing. That’s the reason for its small size and the window. The room didn’t have to be that big, and the window was for sunlight so she could see what she was working on. It could also be the reason you saw the bolts of cloth.”

  I laughed to myself thinking, ‘I’m not so stupid, Frank’s family lived here for 40 plus years and didn’t know its purpose.’

  “Why is it much cooler upstairs, is it a gathering of ghosts?” Don asked.

  Delores looked at him, not enjoying the idea that he seemed to be mocking my dilemma.

  “No Don, in old houses there was only one source of heat. It was probably a wood burning stove centrally located downstairs. The oven for the kitchen would be the same and heat on the second floor was strictly gravity controlled.”

  As we walked through the bedrooms, Don asked, “What are you going to do for heat upstairs?”

  “I’m going to put individual electric baseboard radiators with separate controls in each room instead of all the trouble with running duct work.”

  Delores seemed to be annoyed at our delay wanting to examine the rest of the house. Cutting our conversation short she said, “I’d like to look in the basement now Ray, I want to see if I feel any reaction.”

  Going back down the steps I could hear the old furnace clanking, making noise putting out a little heat. We went to the kitchen, a
nd I suddenly remembered my friend the rat. I thought, ‘I hope when I open this basement door he isn’t staring us in the face to embarrass me.’ Slowly opening it, I peered into the darkness of the landing. To my relief, he wasn’t there.

  As we were going down the stairs, the light bulb I had replaced at the bottom of the steps only the week before, grew brighter with intensity far beyond its capability of 60 watts, then seemed to explode.

  “That’s strange Ray. I’ve seen bulbs burn out, but never saw a light bulb turn that brilliant, then burst like that.” Don remarked.

  Stopping momentarily, I used my flashlight to guide our way safely down the rest of the steps. Finding the light bulbs I purchased the week before, I replaced the one that burst.

  “They must be cheap bulbs,” Don suggested.

  “Maybe: There, that one works. Let’s see how long it lasts.”

  “Ray, where did you see the shadow passing behind you?” Delores asked.

  “Right here in front of the furnace. There’s the cardboard I was kneeling on. I saw the shadow come from that direction where the shelves are. It passed behind me.”

  Walking slowly over to the shelves, she paused for a moment, closing her eyes. After a few moments she said, “I don’t feel anything right here.”

  I felt discouraged but the examination wasn’t complete. I opened the door to the stairs that led to the outside showing her the stone with the name “Smythe 1742” inscribed on it. She reverently touched the stone and closed her eyes obviously trying to feel any psychic connection. She didn’t say anything, but by the look she gave me, it told me she seemed to know more than what she was revealing. Although she kept silent, I was happy there seemed to be some reaction on her part. Whether it was good or bad, I didn’t know, but it was something we could try to deal with.

  Scanning the room, Don shook his head again at the site of the old furnace and the dirt-caked floor. Before going up the stairs, he said, “This is going to be one hell of a major project in itself.”

  Going back to the kitchen, I brewed a pot of coffee. We sat down at the kitchen table and I asked, “Well Delores, now that you examined it, what are your thoughts?”