Adduné - the Vampire's Game (7 page)

“
I know how it sounds, sir, but what I’m sayin’ is God’s honest truth.”

Reginald needed to amend the situation so that the tenuous connection with Figgs wasn’t severed. He leaned forward earnest in his attempt to hear more.

“
Please understand that I’m only trying to assimilate what you’ve said. I am not rejecting it. There are so many questions.”

“
For instance?”

“
Well, how do you know it wasn’t someone from the village? Sometimes intruders will make themselves at home. I’ve heard cases where thieves raid refrigerators, or sleep in someone’s bed. You said yourself that the pipes were on prominent display in the library. The person could have seen them and simply helped themselves. What with you keeping irregular hours, you most likely interrupted whoever it was in the middle of having a smoke. Probably wasn’t expecting you.”

Figgs turned to look at Reginald. His body was jerking with nervous excitement – his eyes rounded with fear.

“
I know because I seen it! With my own eyes,” he said pointing to his dark, bleary eyes. They really did look haggard. Reginald averted his glance, not wanting to know anymore, but he had to. Figgs was his only chance.

“
I’m listening, Figgs. I’ve never known you to tell a falsehood and don’t think you’re starting now.”

“
I appreciate that vote of confidence, sir. I swear on my mother’s grave that what I’m sayin’ happened as I’m sayin’ it did. Believe me, you’re not thinkin’ anything that I haven’t considered. I had the same reaction as you that something needed to be done about whoever it was breakin’ in. It’s why I put an extra lock in the kitchen. Look, see for yourself.” Reginald turned and saw the added deadbolt. “I figured it was the only way they could’a been entering, but it didn’t work. I know that I’m the caretaker. As such, it was my job to stop them! I couldn’t allow someone comin’ and goin’ as they pleased so I determined I’d catch them in the act!” Trap ‘em!”

“
You didn’t have to do that, Figgs. You could have gotten hurt or…”

“
Yes, I did have to do it, sir. It was part of my job to make sure everything was kept nice and safe and stopping someone lookin’ around was part of that job! I was mad, too, sir. Touching Mr. Perry’s things like that! It ain’t right! It just ain’t right. After I found that pipe smoked, I went home and told the Missus that you needed me for some project. I told her it would require me stayin’ the night. I figured the last thing this person was expecting was for me to be sleepin’ on the couch and stayin’ the night.

I came that very night, it was colder than ever. I turned on the telly and watched a bit, but all night I kept seeing these shadows out the corner of my eyes. When I’d turn and face them head-on, they’d disappear. It went on like that until I must’a dozed off. I woke up – I guess it was after midnight. I was still groggy, but awake. I wasn’t dreamin’, sir. I was discussing with myself whether I should get up and have a look around, but before I could move, I heard this noise. Like someone walkin’ around – only it was right in the same room as I was, sir! The telly was still on so there was light in the room. I could see everything, but when I looked to where I thought the footsteps were coming from, all I saw was this shadow … black, but you couldn’t see through it to what was behind it. It was the outline of a man!”

Figgs lowered his voice. It was now a dull whisper. His eyes continued to hold onto Reginald’s face for dear life.

“
This time that blasted shadow didn’t go away, sir. It was there – lurking in the corner of the living room. Right in front of where the pipe was left. I saw it as clearly as I’m seeing you. Watched it for almost a minute. And then … then … it moved! Its legs were moving – walking – and I heard another noise, like the floorboards creaking, and realized it was the shadow making the noise. I was hearin’ it walking around, but it weren’t no shadow no more. It was a person. I couldn’t make out who it was because he moved so fast, sir! So quick – like they was a blur! I only saw a series of pictures – still pictures! Even then I couldn’t really see all of him, only bits and pieces – like what he was wearing. He had on satin pants – fancy ones!”

“
Satin pants? You mean, like a woman wears?”

“
No, I mean how gentlemen used to dress. Short britches ending at the knee. They was black – shiny like. White stockings. Buckled shoes. I watched this … this … whatever it was travel the length of the room in seconds! It was blazin’ fast. No human being moves that way!”

Reginald’s mind was in turmoil. He was trying to keep up with what was being said, but he couldn’t process it. It just didn’t make any sense and yet it was Figgs saying it. That fact alone compelled Reginald to not disregard the entire experience as a bad dream. If it had been anybody else, he would have been tempted to, but not with Figgs. He tried desperately to find a solution … an answer that would explain it all away. Reginald centered in on it being a dream. It had to be the cause. What else could it be?

“
But you were sleeping, William. It might have been part of your dream. I’ve done that myself. Not really been awake and just thought that I saw some …”

“
No, sir, it twern’t no dream.”

“
But how do you know?”

“
Cause it dropped the pipe, sir.”

“
What?”

“
That’s right, sir. It had hold of Mr. Perry’s pipe in its mouth. It was in such a hurry, that when it darted, it dropped it on the floor! I sat on the couch for a minute trying to collect myself. I was doing what you’re doing now – trying to convince myself it was a bad dream. I didn’t want to see what I’d just seen, but I knew I’d heard something. I got up to investigate. See for myself that there was nothing there. I walked to the spot in the living room where that gentleman was, and looked down. There was Mr. Perry’s pipe on the floor … lit and full of tobacco … just like it fell from someone’s mouth! And I knew I weren’t imagining that because there were embers still lit and I had to stomp them out. You can still see a bit of a burn if you look, sir. The marks are still there, but you have to look closely.”

Reginald resisted the urge to pull his arms in around him. He grasped his hands together – knitting his fingers tightly closed. He didn’t believe in the supernatural. What Figgs was saying couldn’t be true and yet he couldn’t deny the feeling he had in his bones. It had gotten worse as he sat at the table listening to Figgs’ ghost story. Reginald always relied on his intuition about witnesses in the courtroom and his inner voice was telling him that Figgs was telling the truth, but it couldn’t be. Figgs voice penetrated Reginald’s inner dialogue.

“
I left the house right after that. I started spending less and less time here and that’s when the dreams started.”

“
Dreams?”

The cold seeped into Reginald’s skull like a dull rain drizzling down his body. It washed over him in a wave and then evaporated in a cold fog that wrapped around him like a shroud of frozen air. Reginald shivered from the unnerving cold.

“
Yes, sir, dreams. At night. I’d be home in my own bed with my Missus next to me. I’d fall asleep and I’d dream of being here and …” Figgs’ head lolled to the side. He held his hands over his eyes, shielding himself from Reginald’s rigid stare. He felt humiliated and he didn’t like feeling that way. He was a proud man that had taken care of himself and his family all these years. Suddenly, he felt he could no longer control things. He felt helpless and exposed.

“
I can’t, sir.”

“
I assure you that what you say to me will never leave this room. You have my word as a gentleman and a friend.”

Figgs remained silent. He needed more convincing. Reginald tried once more. He reluctantly loosened his hands and laid one of them gently, yet firmly across Figgs’ arm.

“
Please, William, I need to know,” he prodded softly. “If you don’t want to do it for me, please, do it for Arthur.”

Figgs lower jaw flinched. There was a torrent of words locked inside. A decision was reached – the floodgate opened.

“
I dreamt of a coffin.”

“
A coffin?”

“
Yes, a plain wooden coffin. It were nailed shut.”

“
Nailed, you say? But why?”

“
To make sure whatever was in there didn’t get out. You see, at first, I didn’t know it were a coffin. It looked like a plain pine box to me. I found out what it was and what it wanted because in my dreams, it whispered to me.”

“
It whispered? You mean the corpse inside?”

“
Twern’t a corpse, sir.”

“
You mean someone was alive? And locked inside?”

“
You could say that, sir. It’d be more the truth, but not quite. Oh, sir,” Figgs gasped, his eyes fluttering shut and blocking out the memories like blinds. “Over and over, the same dream. First, it’d whisper to me and tell me to come, and I’d come. I’d walk to Weatherly in my bedclothes with just a hammer in my hand. I’d enter the house and go straight downstairs – into the basement. That’s where it was. Hidden in some sort of tunnel.”

“
How peculiar! You had the identical dream?”

“
One in the same, sir.”

“
And did you ever see a coffin at Weatherly?”

“
No, sir, and I’ve been all over.”

“
And what about this tunnel? Did you ever attempt to find out if there is a secret passage downstairs? These old houses sometimes had escape routes.”

“
No, sir, I didn’t dare.”

“
Well, if the dream was that disturbing, I can’t say I blame you, but the hidden passage may well be where this intruder is entering.” Reginald placed his hands on his thigh ready to end the conversation. He thought Figgs had finished his story. “So is that it? You’d walk here and find a coffin in a tunnel?”

“
I wish it were all, sir. The rest is the hard part,” Figgs stopped and held his head in his hands. He ran his hands through the sides of his thinning, wiry white hair. Reginald watched it spring back into position. Figgs raised his head. There were fresh tears in his weary, bloodshot eyes. His face was quivering.

“
You don’t understand, sir! It gets to ya, having that dream – night after night. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, it got worse. I started having it in the day! Only it weren’t no dream! I was wide awake! I’d come here and hear my name and …” Figgs collapsed, gently banging a clenched fist down on the table.

There was an inner struggle going on. Reginald had seen it before in witnesses and clients alike. People had boundaries, and when a piece of knowledge crossed that inner boundary, they’d act like this. They’d be torn between keeping the secret safe or letting it out. Reginald tried to do what he could for Figgs to get it out. He knew it would help him in the long run.

“
Would you like some water, William?”

“
Yes, sir, I would.”

Reginald retrieved a glass from the cupboard and ran the tap until the water was cool. He filled it and brought it back to the table. He was giving Figgs some needed time to collect himself. It was a tactic he’d often used. He placed the glass in front of Figgs. He grabbed it and drained it in several desperate gulps. He ran the back of his hand over his mouth several times ridding it of moisture.

“
Thank you, sir. That was very kind of you indeed.”

“
You’re welcome, William.”

Figgs stared into the glass. It acted as a catalyst for him to tell Reginald the rest of his story. Figgs’ eyes remained on it – staring into it as if it could capture his dream and make it go away.

“
In the dream, I’d walk down this tunnel. I’d push this one stone to get to it. The stone would move and a tunnel would be there. It scared me even in the dream, but I heard my name being called and I had to follow. I’d walk into the tunnel and inside the tunnel was …” Figgs paused. Reginald could guess the rest.

“
The coffin?”

“
Yes, sir, it were right there.

“
And where was this entrance to the tunnel? Where in the basement?”

“
In the room where Mr. Perry keeps part of his collection, sir.”

Reginald knew where he meant. Arthur kept his 19
^th
century European collection downstairs. There had been no space for it upstairs. Strangely enough, that was the collection Miranda planned on sending to Fairfield. They would be heading down to that very room to tag the rest of Arthur’s collection as soon as lunch was over. Reginald tried to pull-up from memory exactly what the interior looked like. He didn’t remember any loose stones, but then he hadn’t gone pressing on any walls. He shook his head remembering that this was just a dream … none of it was real. If Reginald didn’t know any better, he would have sworn he was caught up in one now. He heard Figgs’ voice come at him as if out of a thickening mist.