7 Never Haunt a Historian Page 17

  “Which they will, of course,” Emma added proudly. “Smart bunch of kids, I’d say.”

  “Sounds like it,” Leigh agreed, glancing at Emma. The woman had seemed a trifle miffed ever since Leigh had arrived, which was out of character. Leigh sat awkwardly and watched as the couple proceeded to stare at each other for several seconds without speaking.

  “All right!” Emma said finally, gathering up her purse and rising. “I’ll leave! But I’m not going any farther than the cafeteria, you hear me? Such nonsense! Men and nonsense…” She was still muttering as she closed the door behind her.

  “Sorry about that,” Lester apologized. But he did not explain. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble for you to come out here, but I had to ask…”

  Leigh moved closer.

  “Well, they tell me you were the one who found me. You know, after I passed out.”

  Leigh nodded. “You don’t remember?”

  Lester started to shake his head, but winced at the motion.

  “Yeah, I know,” Leigh said with a smile. “I got conked on the head once, too.”

  Lester’s eyes widened. “I don’t think I… I mean… well, what did you see, exactly?”

  Leigh wanted to ask questions a whole lot more than she wanted to answer them, but she forced herself to proceed carefully. The fear in Lester’s eyes was hard to miss; it was in his voice as well. “I went down to the cellar to feed the dog,” she explained. “The dog was gone but you were there, lying curled up on the floor. I didn’t know if you were asleep or unconscious at first, but then you started moving. You had a bump and a cut on your head, so I called an ambulance.”

  “When you… Did you…” Lester stammered. He seemed unable to choose the right words. “You didn’t see anyone else around?” he asked finally.

  Leigh shook her head. Then she took a chance. “Did you?”

  Lester’s pupils dilated; his breathing sped up. “Oh, no. I just went to check on the dog too, you know.”

  Leigh’s jaw tensed. The man was about as convincing as a child who insists, through a mouth smeared with frosting, that he never touched the cupcakes. “Was she there when you got there?”

  Lester stiffened. “Who?”

  “The dog,” Leigh replied. Whom did he think she meant?

  “I’m…” Lester hesitated again. “I’m not really sure. I can remember walking down the steps to the cellar. But that seems to be the last thing I can remember, until the EMTs were talking to me.”

  Leigh believed him. “Why did you go down the steps?”

  “Well, to see… I told you. I wanted to check on the dog.” Fine beads of sweat broke out on his bald forehead.

  Leigh exhaled sadly and softened her voice. “Lester, I know you’re worried about Archie. I am, too. I also know you didn’t go outside and walk across the creek in the middle of the night to check on a stray dog you knew perfectly well I was already taking care of. You went there because you thought that, somehow, you were going to help Archie. Am I right?”

  Lester drew up against his pillows. His face reddened. “No, I wanted… I mean, the dog was… why would I do that?”

  Leigh tried not to cringe. But she had seen better acting in her kids’ kindergarten Thanksgiving pageant. We Native Americans bring you food. Be thankful for future holiday. We eat now.

  Of course, one could only act so well when the script was ludicrous. And Lester’s script was as ludicrous as they came.

  Leigh decided to go ahead and lay it on the line. “Lester, please listen to me,” she pleaded. “I’m not sure why you think it would be a bad idea to level with the police, but I have to disagree with you on that. If someone has… well, if someone has Archie, that’s kidnapping. The police know how to deal with these things—they have the experience to handle these situations so nobody gets hurt. You and I do not. Don’t you see, that’s why such people don’t want the police involved!”

  Lester’s face paled. “I didn’t say anything about kidnapping!” he insisted, his voice breaking in the middle of the last word. “Why are you talking like that?”

  “Because you’re not talking at all, so I can only guess at what you’re hiding,” Leigh retorted. “I told you about the map my kids found. I know you and Archie were looking for something. It’s pretty obvious that someone else is looking for it, too. What I don’t know is why you thought that going to the cellar of the tool shed in the wee hours of the morning was going to help anything. Can you make me understand?”

  “Who else is…” Archie’s breathing had become distressingly rapid again. “I mean… what makes you think anyone is looking for something?”

  “Who else do you think is looking for it?” Leigh pressed.

  “I don’t know who!” Lester stammered. “I mean… I didn’t say anyone was… Oh, hell!”

  Leigh softened her voice again. “I’m only trying to help you help Archie,” she assured. “If you know who might be trying to keep Archie from finding this… this whatever it is, then please, you’ve got to tell the police. I don’t know. I have no clue. I can’t tell them anything. Right now they’re not taking the risk of foul play to Archie seriously, but they will if you cooperate… all you have to do is be honest with them about what you and Archie were doing and what really happened to you down in that cellar.”

  Lester’s eyes turned away from her. He grabbed a tissue from off his bedside table and dabbed at his sweating forehead. “I don’t know, Leigh. I just don’t know. Arch said…”

  Leigh leaned in. “What did Archie say?”

  Lester went mum. He pressed his lips together stubbornly.

  “Lester,” Leigh said, drawing sudden inspiration. “Perhaps it would help your decision to know that a 10,000 pound hydraulic excavator was delivered to Archie’s driveway this morning?”

  Lester stared at her a moment. Then he uttered several words no teddy bear should hear. “I forgot all about that,” he added.

  “Yeah, we figured as much,” Leigh said sympathetically. “But now that the police know about both the excavator and the map—”

  “Arch was having troubles with his septic, you know,” Lester offered.

  Leigh raised one eyebrow and looked at him.

  After a long moment, he sighed. “I made a promise,” he said miserably.

  “Archie couldn’t possibly have anticipated these circumstances,” Leigh reasoned. “Besides, it doesn’t really matter what he was after. All that matters is figuring out who else was after it. Does that help?”

  Lester made no response.

  Leigh took a breath. “Here’s what I think. I think that you looked out your window Saturday night and saw a light out by the creek heading toward Archie’s place. You went to see who it was, and you followed them to the cellar. But before you knew what happened, they hit you with something and knocked you out—or at least knocked you down. How close is that?”

  Lester blinked back at her, his eyes confused. “I didn’t see any light,” he said softly.

  “You didn’t?”

  His moved his head slowly from side to side. “I went out on my own, like I said. To… to check on the dog. But when I got closer, I heard something.”

  Leigh’s pulse sped up. She was getting somewhere at last. “What did you hear?”

  His eyes assumed a distant look. “A buzzing sound. Like a motor of some kind. It was strange. There’s no electric down there, you know. I thought maybe… but I don’t remember. I wanted to see you so I could ask… what was down there? I mean, when you found me?”

  Leigh shook her head. “There was no machine. The only thing I saw on the ground was your flashlight. But…” she hesitated only a moment. “Since yesterday, someone has chiseled out a good bit of mortar from around one large stone.”

  Lester’s eyes widened. “No,” he said bleakly, barely above a whisper. Then he repeated, much louder, “No!” His hands scrabbled at his blankets and he attempted to swung his feet toward the edge of the bed.

  “Lest
er, don’t!” Leigh begged, trying to settle him back on his pillow.

  “Do you really think they hit me?” he asked. “Really, honest to God, knocked me out? If they’d do that, what would they do to Arch?!”

  “Tell the police,” Leigh pressed. “Tell them everything you can. It’s the best thing we can do.”

  “The police!” Lester said derisively. “They think Archie’s hiding out to commit fraud!”

  “Not after you tell them the truth, they won’t!”

  Lester grunted and leaned back. His face was flushed and he looked terrible, but at least he was no longer trying to get out of bed.

  “My head is killing me,” he said gruffly. But his sulky pout once again put Leigh in mind of a teddy bear. She felt like a heel.

  “I’m going now,” she said apologetically. “You rest. And try not to worry. But do think about what I said. Okay? Please?”

  Lester grunted again. He closed his eyes.

  His head hurt; Leigh could see it in his face. She rose and walked toward the door.

  “Leigh?” he called.

  She stopped and turned around. “Yes?”

  “Thanks. For caring so much about Arch. But you need to be careful. You need to stay out of this. It could be… dangerous.”

  No freakin’ kidding.

  “And could you…” he continued. “Would you tell Harvey to stay out of it, too? I worry about that man.”

  Harvey knows.

  “Why?” Leigh asked softly. “Why are you worried about Harvey, Lester?”

  Lester closed his eyes again, and Leigh knew she could harass the poor man no further. At least not today.

  His voice drifted into a mumble. “Too smart by half, that old man. Can’t have… I don’t want anybody hurt…”

  Leigh slipped quietly out of the room and closed the door behind her.

  Neither do I, Lester, she thought to herself grimly. Neither do I.

  Chapter 17

  Leigh was pulling into the elementary school parking lot when her cell phone rang. She swung the van into the nearest spot, threw it into park, and picked up. She had a special ringtone for calls from Maura’s office… a wailing siren.

  “Hello, Maura?” she said anxiously, wondering if her friend had news from the obstetrician. “What’s up?”

  “Nothing,” the policewoman answered. “At least not with… the results. They’re saying midafternoon now. But I didn’t call about that. I called to let you know that the guys in General Investigations now officially have a fire lit under them. I’m sorry, Koslow—it was worse than I thought. The chumps hadn’t done jack. Archie’s description hadn’t even been loaded in the databases yet—whole damn thing was stuck in clerical.”

  Leigh’s shoulders slumped. “Oh.”

  “I got it moving again,” Maura assured. “Shouldn’t take long to hear back if there’s a match in the system.”

  Leigh didn’t want to think about a match with what.

  “At least they’re open to seeing the obvious now,” Maura continued. “They’re planning to interview Lester again sometime today. You think he’ll level with them this time?”

  “I certainly hope so,” Leigh said earnestly, rubbing her face with her hands. “But I don’t know. Lester’s loyal to a fault, and he swore to Archie that he’d keep the whole thing a secret.”

  Maura did some swearing herself. “That won’t help either of them now.”

  “I know,” Leigh agreed. “I’ll keep trying.” She got out of the van and walked toward the school office, summarizing for Maura on the way her conversation with Adith and her suspicions about Archie’s having made a recent breakthrough. But when she reached the office and saw Allison waiting for her, she promptly cut the call short. “I have to go now,” she explained. “Orthodontia calls. Allison has an early dismissal.”

  “Gotcha,” Maura responded.

  “Was that Aunt Mo?” Allison said innocently as she skipped alongside her mother out the front door and across the parking lot toward the van.

  “What makes you think that?” Leigh asked, quite positive she hadn’t identified her caller.

  Allison shrugged. “I just thought maybe you’d be talking to her. Any developments on the case?”

  Leigh tensed. It was going to be a very long orthodontist appointment.

  ***

  It was a very long orthodontist appointment. The only thing saving Leigh from Allison’s continual peppering of questions was the fact that the waiting room was packed and Leigh insisted that discussing the issue in public would be inappropriate. At least the van ride over had been short. Short enough for Leigh to get away with divulging only the merest highlights of her day, focusing on her finding the mother dog and the delivery of the excavator—which she was certain Allison was bound to hear about anyway.

  To Leigh’s surprise, her daughter did not immediately resume the interrogation when the appointment was over. As they got back into the van Allison appeared thoughtful, and asked only if the orthodontist’s office was anywhere near the driving range.

  The driving range? “It’s about a mile that way. Why?”

  “Can we go home that way?”

  “Whatever for?”

  Allison fidgeted in her seat. “Well, the truth is, Mom… I was really hoping you would take me to see Dora Klinger again.”

  Leigh steadied herself. Of course. The driving range was right across the highway from the assisted living facility. Allison might not be savvy with driving directions, per se, but she did have a near-photographic memory.

  Leigh asked the obvious question. “Why do you want to see Mrs. Klinger?”

  Allison fidgeted again. “Because… well, I want to ask her exactly where Theodore’s grave is. We have to know for sure in order to read the map right. It’s not like I’m going to the actual grave or anything. There’s no danger involved. And you know she would love to see us again. She practically begged us to come back! Please, Mom?”

  Leigh’s jaw clenched. She had, in fact, been planning to return to Dora’s just as soon as Ethan got home from school and she could safely stash both children at their Aunt Cara’s. But she knew her daughter well enough to know that when it came to ferreting out information, frustration only bred more frighteningly bright ideas. If the orthodontist trip hadn’t presented itself, the child would probably have spent the evening convincing her father she needed to work on her tee shot.

  Twenty minutes later, Leigh and her daughter were once again settled into uncomfortable chairs, politely declining more hard candy. Their hostess, as promised, was delighted to see them. Yet even as she sat smiling pleasantly, all hunched over in a baby-pink cardigan sweater, it was clear she sensed the urgency behind their visit. “I’ve been thinking quite a bit about poor Mr. Pratt,” she said sympathetically. “I hope you don’t have bad news about him.”

  “Oh, no,” Leigh said quickly. “We don’t have any news, I’m afraid. But the police are working on finding him even as we speak.”

  Dora’s crooked fingers fussed with the hem of her sweater. “I’ve got to say, of all the hauntings I’ve heard tell of, I can’t remember a person ever just disappearing. Meeting their maker in mysterious ways, unfortunately, yes. Going missing for a spell, absolutely. But people go missing because they get frightened off. I’d think if that were the case with Mr. Pratt, he would have come home by now. Sweet, friendly man like that—he must know that people are worried about him. I don’t understand it.”

  Given that no suggestion Leigh could offer was fit for her daughter’s ears, she decided to change the subject. “We’re trying to help the police however we can,” she began, starting the speech she had constructed during the car ride over. If it hadn’t occurred to Dora in the sixty some-odd years since she’d lived at the farm that she and her husband had been the victim of fortune-hunters rather than ghosts, it was probably best not to enlighten her now. It was also best, for any number of reasons, not to increase the number of interested individuals who actuall
y laid eyes on Archie’s map. “We think it was only a short time after Archie talked to you that he started making plans. He rented some equipment… as if he were going to make some changes to the farm. We just aren’t sure what. I was hoping, if you thought back on your conversation with him, maybe you might have some idea? Was there something in particular about the farm that he seemed interested in? Kept asking you about in more detail?”

  Dora’s lips twisted in thought. She was silent for a long moment. “Well, he mainly wanted to know about the haunting, of course. We compared orbs—what paths they took, the seasonal patterns. He was particularly interested in the physical manifestations of the poltergeists.”

  I’ll bet, Leigh thought to herself. He wanted to know where everyone else had been looking.

  “Did he ask,” she posed carefully, “about any ‘manifestations’ in the area of the tool shed?”

  Dora’s eyebrows rose. “Well, yes, actually. Now that you mention it. We talked quite a bit about that shed. It was my Bert that built it, you know.”

  Leigh remembered Lydie saying that the shed looked newer than the cellar underneath it; she had thought as much herself. “He built it on top of the root cellar?” she asked.

  The wrinkles in Dora’s brow deepened. “Oh no, that wasn’t a root cellar. There used to be a root cellar dug into the hill over by the barn, but it had long since caved in when we got there. No, the cellar you’re talking about was built for the old house. Bert and I tore that awful mess down ourselves, and he put up the shed in its place. Ew, Lordy!” Dora’s face screwed up into a pucker. “Was that place ever foul!”

  Leigh found herself perched on the edge of her seat. In her peripheral vision, she could see her daughter responding likewise. “The old house?” Leigh squeaked. “You mean there was more than one?”

  Dora looked at her quizzically. “Mr. Pratt said the same thing. I don’t see what’s so shocking about it. The cabin was built way back—late 1800s, maybe earlier, I don’t know. If Theodore and Tom Carr built the farmhouse you see now, where do you think they were living at the time? You can’t build something like that overnight, especially not with a farm to run.”