“Jo.” He sounded exasperated. “I specialise in experimental and
transcendental films exploring the human psyche. If my colleagues find out
I’m ghost hunting, they’ll never take me seriously again. ”
“All right, if you won’t do it for her, do it for me. You’re the closest thing
I have to family, and there’s no one else I can go to for help.”
The silence stretched out for a long gap, then he groaned. “Fine.
Manipulative little weirdo. I’ll be there in a few hours.”
“You’re the best. I’ll bake you two trays of brownies.”
“You’d better.”
I grinned as I hung up. The cameras might not actually catch anything,
but I would sleep a little easier knowing they were there.
That just left one avenue of enquiry: learning Marwick House’s history. I
turned on my laptop, stretched as it booted up, then typed in the house’s
address.
There were a lot of results. I scrolled through the list, scanning titles and
web pages, and found a disturbing trend. All of the pages were old house
listings. Marwick had been changing hands frequently from since long before
I’d moved in. Some of the listings were only months apart. Occasionally, an
occupant made it a year or a year and a half, but that seemed to be the
maximum. My earlier elation faded. If Ruby was right—if the spirits
inhabiting the building were friendly—what was making the tenants move so
often?
Despite the numerous search results, I couldn’t find any actual
information about the house. It didn’t appear on any history sites or haunted
location blogs.
I shut down the computer, thought for a moment, then went downstairs. I
took a fruitcake out of the cupboard, wrapped it in a cloth, collected my
jacket, and stepped through the front door.
P ENNY C RAWFORD LIVED across the street from me. She was notorious for two
things: staying in the same house for more than sixty years and knowing
everything about everyone’s business. Some days, when the curiosity bug bit
me, I watched the other houses through my front windows. Almost
invariably, I would look towards Sonia’s house and see her looking right
back.
I crossed the street and followed the stone pavers leading to the front
door. Sonia’s house was old-fashioned, and her garden was edging towards
being badly overgrown, but the building had charm. She’d supposedly moved
in there with her husband when they married, and had never moved out. She
had to be at least eighty, but she moved and spoke with the agility of
someone half her age .
Sonia opened the door before I had a chance to knock. I was fairly
certain she’d been watching me come up her driveway, but I didn’t make a
fuss about it.
“I’ve got a whole lot of questions and think you might have some
answers. Can I come in? I brought cake.”
“Of course. Sitting room’s through there. In you go, chop-chop.” Sonia
took the cake, pulled out a corner of the cloth to examine it, then nodded in
satisfaction. She disappeared into the kitchen.
It wasn’t my first time in Sonia’s sitting room. I’d visited several times in
my four years there, most recently when the previous family had fled in the
middle of the night. Sonia had been the most help out of all of my
neighbours… which wasn’t saying much. She’d heard the screams, seen thegunshots, and watched the family drive away. But she hadn’t called the
police and didn’t know what had caused them to leave.
The living room’s furniture was from another decade. The chairs were all
faded floral print with white doilies thrown over them, and a fake fireplace
complete with real dust-covered logs decorated the back corner. I admired the
curio cabinets filled with fine china until Sonia returned, carrying a plate of
sliced cake, two teacups, and my folded towel on a tray.
“Go ahead, ask away,” she said as she passed me a cup. That was one
thing I liked about Sonia—she didn’t spend time on preambles or waste
words.
“Okay, so, the Marwick house. You know Ruby, moved in,
don’t you?”
It was a stupid question, and I deserved the scornful look Sonia gave me.
“You’ve been quite friendly with her. Visiting often. Sleeping over last night.
Well, most of last night, anyway.”
Of course she would have seen us leave. It was unreasonable to expect
Sonia to sleep through the night like a normal human. “Well, I wanted to
know about the house’s history. I’m trying to find out if it had anything…
violent or unsavoury in its past. Something that could be affecting the
building now.”
“You mean ghosts.” That was another thing I liked about Sonia—she cut
straight to the point and didn’t judge the questions. “Certainly. Did you want
me to give you the abridged version, or would you like the whole story?”
With three hours until Lucky arrived, it was a no-brainer. “Whole story,
please.”