Cluttered Attic Secrets

CLUTTERED ATTIC SECRETS

Jan Christensen

Copyright 2015 by Jan Christensen

LEGAL STUFF

All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any printed, audio, electronic or any other form without permission.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is purely coincidental.

WEBSITE

www.janchristensen.com

“Tina?” Leslie whispered when Tina answered her cell phone. “What are you doing?”

“Reading a book. Why are you whispering?”

“Can you come over?” Leslie continued to whisper.

Tina put her book down and sat up straight on the couch. “Sure. What’s going on?” She glanced at the grandfather clock. Just after midnight.

“Something strange in the attic.”

Tina stood up and walked to the hall closet. She grabbed her light jacket and put it on while heading toward the back door. “You’re in the attic?”

“Yes, but I’m going downstairs now to let you in.”

“Okay. Talk to me while you go.” Tina scribbled a note at the small kitchen desk telling her mother and great-uncle where she’d be. Then she stepped outside the back door and inhaled a deep breath of the early spring air. She looked up at the moonlit sky filled with scudding clouds and smiled. She loved Newport in the spring. Her yellow VW stood waiting in the driveway. The old house had a one-car detached garage, and naturally her mother had dibs on it. The only way the night could be improved was if she put the top down, but it wasn’t quite warm enough for that.

“Okay, I’m downstairs,” Leslie said in her ear as Tina climbed into her car.

“That’s good. Can you stop whispering now?” Tina backed out of the driveway and headed toward Leslie’s Victorian house only a few blocks away.

“I’m not sure.”

When Leslie didn’t elaborate, Tina’s alarm rose. “Why not?”

“Maybe it can still hear me down here.”

“It? What it?”

“The ghost. I think it’s a ghost.”

Tina almost slammed on the brakes, but stopped herself in time. “A ghost? In the attic?”

“Yes.”

Tina heard Leslie fumbling around with something in the kitchen. Probably the coffee maker. She shivered. A ghost. Impossible.

“What exactly did you see, Leslie?”

“It’s hard to describe. I think they call it an apparition? Or something like that.”

“Sounds right.” Tina made a left turn onto Leslie’s street. “Sort of a ghostly outline of a person? Male or female?”

“Hmm. Male, I think. I only saw it for a second or two.”

At least she’d stopped whispering. “Where exactly? I’m pulling into your driveway, by the way.”

“Okay. I’m in the kitchen. I’ll be at the side door. I saw it in the attic in the back corner.”

Tina parked and headed to the door. Leslie stood there, phone at her ear. They laughed when they saw each other. “I guess we can end the call now,” Tina said and did so. Then she hugged Leslie. “You okay?” She pulled away and studied her best friend. Her hazel eyes were a little, should she say “haunted looking?” Wide, anyway. Ash blonde hair with its usual honey-blonde professional coloring framed her heart-shaped face. She may have lost a few pounds during the move into her aunt’s old house, but she still had a great figure.

“Better now you’re here.”

“What are friends for? I mean, who you gonna call?”

Leslie giggled and closed the door behind them. She walked to the coffee maker and watched it until its final drip dripped.

“I hope that’s decaf.” Tina took off her jacket and sat down at the round kitchen table. “It smells good.”

“Oceans’ brand
Swiss Water Process Kenya AA Decaf
.” Leslie laughed as she read from the label.

“Oh la la. That’s some expensive stuff.”

“We deserve it. With a shot of brandy.” Leslie pulled a bottle out of a lower cabinet and set it on the table. Then she poured the coffee and sat down. “Okay, I was probably imagining things. Shouldn’t have gone into the attic late at night, in the dark. But now that I’ve gotten most of the downstairs and second floor done, I’m itching to get to work. My aunt must have put every discard she ever had up there.”

“You never showed me the attic.”

“If you’d seen it, you would have wanted to start on it first thing. I needed to fix up where I live first. Help yourself to the brandy.”

Tina poured some into her coffee and took a sip. “Wow. This is good. I don’t suppose you want to go back up there now?”

Leslie shrugged. “I’m not sure. Maybe after coffee. I don’t think I can sleep tonight.”

“Well, whatever you want to do. I’ll stay here, asleep or awake. We can look at the attic together, or not.”

“You’re the best.” Leslie added a bit more brandy to her mug and sighed. “I think I need to go back up there to convince myself I was seeing things. Maybe we’ll be able to figure out what I really saw. A play of the moonlight or something.”

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Tina had known Leslie forever, but they’d never discussed the subject before.

“Not really. I mean I haven’t thought much about it, and when they’re mentioned I tend to scoff. How about you?”

“The same. I don’t totally discount them, but I’m skeptical, for sure. What you saw probably did have something to so with the lighting. Let’s finish our coffee and go see.”

“If you insist.” Leslie smiled. “What I’ve always wondered about is why people are afraid of these supposed ghosts. I don’t understand how they could harm you.”

“I never thought about it a lot, but you’re right. From what little I’ve read or heard, they can’t even open doors or pick things up. So, how could they attack you and do any damage? And why would they want to in the first place?”

“Well, I’m feeling better about going back up there.” Leslie stood up. “You ready?”

Tina hesitated for a second. “Sure. But do you want to take a weapon?”

“What, a gun? A baseball bat? A stake? How about a silver cross? If I could find one.”

Tina laughed. “Silly me. But I do recommend a high-powered flashlight. You have one of those?”

“Yes. Every woman who lives alone needs one, or several.” Leslie opened a drawer and pulled one out. “Let’s go.”

“You first.”

Leslie stared at her.

“What?” Tina asked. “You know the way. I’ve never been up there, remember?”

“I could tell you where the door is.”

“Leslie, if you don’t want to do this, we can just stay down here drinking coffee.”

“You’re right. Onward!”

Leslie led the way down the second-floor hallway. When they arrived at a closed door, Leslie hesitated. “Here we are.”

“I see.” Tina waited.

Leslie put her hand on the glass doorknob, then stood without turning it.

“You have to open the door for us to go up. I’ve got your back. Literally, and figuratively.”

Leslie sighed. “Okay. Here goes.”

She opened the door with a flourish, flipped on a light switch, and ran up the stairs, Tina at her heels. At the top, with just enough room for Tina to stand beside her, Leslie paused abruptly and turned on the flashlight. She pointed the light toward the back corner, then played it around the rest of the cluttered, open-spaced attic.

“You were right,” Tina whispered. Why was she whispering? In her normal voice, she continued, “You aunt must have kept everything she ever owned. And some stuff other people owned.”

“I know.” Leslie took a few steps into the attic, the flashlight beam bouncing around in her unsteady hand.

“Here, let me hold that.” Tina took the light and went around Leslie to weave her way through the clutter toward the far corner. A window in the center of the wall let in ghostly moonlight, but without the flashlight, the corner was pretty dark.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Neither do I. Now.” Leslie stood so close, Tina could feel her breath on her cheek.

“Anyone there?” Tina asked, her voice a little louder than normal.

Silence.

Tina turned and scanned the rest of the attic again. Since everything was out of place, she couldn’t tell much about it, except that Leslie’s Aunt Margaret hadn’t liked to throw anything away. Tina recognized some pieces from her few visits with Leslie before her friend refurbished or replaced most of the furniture downstairs. So Leslie hadn’t thrown much away, either.

“Whatever you saw, I think it’s gone now. Probably a cloud going past the moon or something.”

“I’m sure you’re right. But it did look like a person, or the outline of a person.”

Tina patted Leslie’s arm. “I understand. Probably not a great idea to work up here alone at night. Next time you get an urge to do that, call me to help you.”

“Okay. Thanks. Will you stay the night, though?”

“Sure.”

“Let’s go have another cup of coffee. Spiked.”

“Sounds good to me. Back to the kitchen.”

When they reached the second floor landing, a muffled crash from the attic made them both gasp. They stood still, listening.

“Should we go back up?” Leslie asked.

“I don’t think so. Can you lock the attic door from this side?” Tina shone the light at the doorknob and saw an old-fashioned keyhole underneath it, but no key.

“Maybe. There’s a bunch of keys in the desk in the library. Could be one of those fits.”

“Let’s go see.” Tina followed Leslie down the main center staircase to the library at the front of the house. It was twice the size of the other downstairs rooms, and true to its name, lined with bookshelves and furnished with a huge rolltop desk, a few comfortable reading chairs and a long library table. It even had a reading stand with a big old dictionary open on its slanted shelf. A bronze bust of the Status of Liberty had pride of place on a small table near one corner. Best of all, it smelled of books.

Leslie opened the top drawer of the desk, took out a handful of keys, and placed them on the open desktop. Then she scooped up another handful. “I didn’t dare throw any of these away.”

“I wouldn’t have, either.” Tina started sifting through the keys, setting aside old skeletons to try on the attic door.

Leslie helped. “What do you think caused that noise?”

“One of us probably brushed against something while we were up there, and it fell after we left. Like a bowling pin—you’ve seen them wobble and take what seems like forever to fall.”

“I suppose.” Leslie sounded dubious.

“Let’s see if one of these works.” They each took a bunch of keys, and Tina led the way up the main staircase to the attic door. They stood listening a moment, then she tried one of her keys. It didn’t work, and neither did any of the rest. “Your turn.” She moved away to give Leslie room.

On the third try, they heard the snap of the lock, and they both froze. “Okay,” Tina finally managed to say. “That should help.”

Leslie heaved a sigh. “That makes me feel a little better.”

Tina didn’t mention the belief that ghosts could walk through walls. But she herself felt better with the door locked. They turned to leave, but stopped short when they heard the groan of a floorboard above. Leslie grasped Tina’s arm so hard, Tina was sure she’d left a bruise. “There’s something up there, Tina.” She shook Tina’s arm.

“This is an old house. You know how they moan and groan. That’s all it is. It happens at our house a lot. You’re spooking yourself.” She wanted to tell Leslie to calm down, but she knew what a hot button that was when anyone told her to do it, so she bit her lip and watched Leslie, hoping she’d relax.

Leslie finally loosened her grip on Tina’s arm. “I’m sure you’re right. In my head. The rest of my body isn’t so sure.”

“Okay. Let’s go straight for the brandy bottle. The heck with the coffee.”

When they walked away from the attic door Tina heard another, fainter groan. She shivered.

After they settled at the kitchen table again, brandy snifters at the ready, Tina said, “Tell me more about your aunt. I only met her a few times at some of your family gatherings.”

“She was my father’s older sister. About ten years older, so seventy-two when she passed away.”

Tina nodded. She knew that from reading the obituary. She knew Aunt Margaret had died of lung cancer; one of those poor souls who never could quit smoking.

“You liked her.”

“Yes. She was a lot of fun. Never married, independent. She traveled all over, especially on cruise ships, which is why you didn’t see a lot of her. Neither did we. She and Dad were raised in this house. It’s been in the family for generations. She retired at fifty-five and started traveling as if it were her second career.”

“Did she talk much about the house?” Tina twirled the brandy glass in her fingers and admired the ruby color. “Ever mention she thought it might be haunted or say anything about strange noises?”

“Not that I remember. I’ll ask Mom and Dad. Thinking back, it seemed once she inherited it from Grandpa and furnished it to her own taste, she didn’t care that much about it. She was hardly ever home. She went to lots of parties, had lots of men friends throughout the years, worked long and odd hours. My parents seemed both exasperated and amused.”

“You liked her.”

“I loved her. I thought she was glamorous. Exotic even.” Leslie took a sip of her brandy. “When I was younger, she’d have me over for tea parties. She had a housekeeper. Maybe you remember her from when you came a few times for tea. Older woman. She herself just passed away a couple of weeks ago.”

“Mrs. Benson! Yes, I remember her. She was cheerful, but sometimes seemed really sad. Moody.”

“You do remember her. She got really frail the last couple of years and had to stop working. No family, so Mom and Dad used to check on her every so often. My aunt hired Maureen after Mrs. Benson had to quit. I don’t think you ever met her.”

“No. Did either of the housekeepers mention a ghost to you? Or anything out of the ordinary happening in the house?”

Leslie shook her head. “And Maureen even lived in. Aunt Margaret wasn’t too well herself by the time Mrs. Benson left. She said she felt better with someone staying overnight.”

Tina raised an eyebrow. “Maybe she was hearing or seeing things by then.”

“Could be.” Leslie shivered.

Tina took a last sip of her brandy. “I think we should try to get some rest.”

Leslie stood up and carried the empty snifters to the sink. “Let’s sleep in the guest room that has twin beds. I’ll lend you some nightclothes. I bought everything a guest might forget to bring, so there’s a fresh toothbrush, a little tube of paste, soap and so on.”

“That’s great. I’m going to leave a message on the answering machine for my mother so she won’t worry in the morning when I don’t show up for breakfast.”

When they were nestled into the twin beds, Tina asked, “You got the house. What about your parents and Brandon? Did your Aunt Margaret leave them anything?”

“Yeah. The equivalent, or about, in cash to my dad and my brother. She made a killing in real estate.”