McCann's Manor (18 page)

She was turning to leave the room when an irregularity on the wall at the end of the chamber caught her eye. She came closer to it, examined it. Once she had a closer view of it, she couldn't decide what about it had attracted her attention. Maybe it was because the energy of the wall
felt
different; she reached out and tapped first at it, then at one of the other walls. This wall on the end
sounded
hollow, but the others didn't. Interesting. In fact, there was just a panel about four feet wide that had a hollow sound to it when she tapped on it. To either side of this panel, the wall sounded solid.

She looked around the panel for some indication as to why this part of the wall seemed different, but found nothing. It
was
different, but she didn't know why she thought so—just that it was, and she was certain one of the
famous
hidden passages must be secreted behind it. She gave it a shove, but found it wasn't
that
insubstantial. It didn't budge. She tried pushing it sideways, but that also served no obvious purpose. Then as she looked down at the floor, she was taken with the idea of trying to push it up from the bottom. She leaned over, pushed her fingers against the base board, lifted.

To her surprise, the panel began to slide up to reveal a dusty staircase on the other side. “Well,” she said to herself, “that wasn't hard, now was it? Hmm—wonder where this will take us?” She peered up into the darkness. She would have to get the flashlight to check it out. “Maybe tomorrow; Liz and I can go up and see. Tonight, I'm supposed to be resting."

So she had decided; the exploration of this passage could wait. It had been there for two hundred years, give or take, and it would still be there tomorrow. She reached up, pulled the panel back into place, then turned off the closet light, closed the door and headed back up the front stairs, turning off the extra lights as she went. In her room, she turned her stereo on. “There; that should keep me from hearing anything
else
that isn't there,” she said as she pulled off her robe and crawled back under the covers to continue reading her book.

She hadn't been back in bed more than five minutes when she heard a tap on her door. Liz poked her head inside the room. “Hi! Just wanted to let you know I made it back."

"How long have you been in here?"

"What?"

Kim looked at Liz, frowned, “I said, how long have you been here?"

"I just got in; walked up the stairs and came to let you know I was here, why?"

Kim shrugged. “No reason, really. I was reading and just a few minutes ago, I thought I heard voices. I called out because I thought it was you, but no one answered. So I got up and made the grand tour of this and the first floors and didn't hear anything else or see anything, except one of the closet doors downstairs was open—so I came up and got back in bed—and then you showed up."

Liz shrugged, replied, “Well, it wasn't me; just told John goodnight in the car, got out and came straight up."

"You mean he didn't even walk you to the door?” Kim asked.

"Why should he? He would have and was going to, but I told him not to bother. I told you it wasn't a date or anything—just two friends coming home from dinner,” Liz shrugged.

"Who are you trying to convince?"

"Huh?"

"Well, you keep saying it's not a date and you're just friends and all that, but you do have that certain rosy glow about you—” Kim observed.

Liz rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, walked into the room and plopped down on the foot of Kim's bed, petted the stretching black cat. “Come off it, Kim,” she said. “If I have a rosy glow, it is probably because of the wine we drank with dinner."

Kim smiled, laid down her book and asked, “So, how was dinner?"

"We went to The Landing and had mahi-mahi. It was delicious. And how about you and Wade—how was lunch?"

Kim sighed, shook her head. “The man is insane!"

"Well, we did kind of already
know
that, you know,” Liz said.

"Yes, I know—but he asked me to go to California with him and
get married,
” Kim exclaimed.

Liz chuckled, “Whoa! Just like that?"

"Well, not
just
like that, but that was what he had in mind,” she said.

Liz gave her a mischievous grin, “So, when is the big day?"

Kim picked up her pillow, threw it at Liz and asked, “Are you crazy, too? I didn't say yes!"

"Oh,” Liz said as she dodged the pillow. “So?"

"So what?"

"So—you said no? You're going to think about it? What?"

Kim crinkled up her nose, answered, “Well, I told him I had to have time to think about it—but now that I'm here, safe in my own bed and not tangled up in his arms, there's nothing to think about, is there?"

Liz shrugged, asked, “Well, I don't know—is there?"

"Liz! What on earth are you talking about? I don't
want
to make the same mistake for the third time! Subject closed."

"Okay. Subject closed. What about this thing with the APG and having them over here for Halloween?"

"Well, you know Max—I sort-of got railroaded there, too. He wants to be in on anything paranormal that happens in the whole state. I don't want a bunch of other parapsychologists out here trying to figure out the mysteries of this house. That is why we're here and if we don't tend to it ourselves, then the house won't be ours—will it? I mean, wouldn't that be cheating?” Kim asked.

"Well, I agree with you about that; we should talk to John about it, I guess. Did you know he's a lawyer?"

"No, I didn't know that,” she said. “He is full of surprises, isn't he?"

"Well, he got the law degree for his dad and he is licensed in Texas and California—he uses it to help Betty manage her estate. He never wanted to be anything but an actor."

"So what's the scoop with you and him?"

Liz let her shoulders droop. “There isn't any scoop."

"You sure? Why did you channel Missy for him?"

"John needs to find a completion to him and Missy. He was in Boston finishing his law degree when Leonard shot himself—when Leonard
died
,” she corrected herself. “When he came home to be with her, Missy wouldn't see him, so he went back to Boston. Next thing he heard, Missy was dead. I thought it would help him to be able to talk to her—and
she
wanted it so much."

"And did it help?” Kim asked.

"Now
there's
a sixty-four thousand dollar question for you—I don't know whether it helped either of
them
, but it sure as anything confused me,” Liz said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it has me wondering if Missy is
always
here with me now—just how
linked
are the two of us? Has she latched onto me full-time, or was she just close-by, watching for a chance to talk to John?” Liz mused.

Kim stared at Liz. “What you're talking about has some pretty far-reaching implications, you know."

Liz smiled, replied, “I
do
know. I'm not sure of anything yet, though. What I do know for certain is that there is something
not right
in all this. So I need you to start meditating on it with me. I can't trust my own feelings right now. We need to ask the angels for extra protection."

"Is it John or Missy that is causing the problem?"

Liz thought for a moment, looked at Kim, “I don't know. John says Ptarmigan doesn't exist; Missy says he is real and that he's a monster. They can't both be right, can they?"

"Not likely, though they may both completely believe what they say. Of course, you must remember, Missy is not a spirit of the light yet. She isn't bound to tell you the truth if it suits her purposes more to lie,” Kim reminded.

Liz thought about Kim's statement. “Why would she lie?"

"
Someone
is. You know I have had trouble trusting John, but Wade says he is trustworthy and Wade has known him a long time. Still—"

"Yeah, I know. I think we just need more information. Help me stay clear, can you?"

Kim studied Liz's face, “I can try. You know that's what I'm here for. Do you feel Missy here with us now?"

"No, but that doesn't mean she isn't, does it?"

Kim shook her head, replied, “It just means if she is here, she is very clever at hiding out, because I can't feel her presence, either."

"Have you
ever
felt her presence?"

Kim was silent.

"Kim, have you?” Liz pried.

"No. She picked you, not me, and she has never revealed herself to me at all."

Liz nodded. It was not unheard of for a spirit to choose to communicate with one of them and not the other, but it was
uncommon
for only one of them to be able to perceive
any
spirit. That was an issue Liz was having a bit of trouble with, but they could talk about it later. “Well, I'm tired. It has been a long day since four o'clock this morning,” she said.

"Didn't you ever take that nap?"

"No, I was too anxious to find the passage to the library—then the rest of the day just kind-of fell in on top of me. The wine helped to relax me, though and now I'm about to drop here on the spot,” Liz confided.

"Yeah, you had better go to bed. We will talk in the morning,” Kim said.

"Right. Good night."

"Night."

Kim peeped in on Liz, who was still fast asleep at eight-thirty in the morning, then eased the door closed and called Spooky and Ghost to follow her downstairs. Once downstairs, she fed the dog and cat and picked up the phone, dialed.

"Hello, John? Hi, it's Kim."

"Good morning, Kim. How are you?” the voice on the other end asked.

"Oh, much better, thanks."

John put down the towel he had been drying with, squinted into the mirror, combed his hair out of his eyes, “And how is Liz feeling?"

"She's still sleeping and I thought I would let her slumber on as long as she can. She was awake most of night before last and then it seems she had the day from hell yesterday,” Kim said.

"You're right about that. That was quite an ordeal she went through with the whole thing with McCann; and Humphrey was not at all nice to her,” John reported.

"Yeah, I know. I'm hoping today will be a better day for both of us. Listen, the reason I'm calling is to get your advice."

"My advice? Sure, what can I do for you?” he asked.

"Is there any way we can get Missy's records from the institution?"

"Probably. I can check it out,” John said. “Since Missy has been dead for more than thirty years, they shouldn't have any objections. Why do you want them?"

"I was just thinking there could be something in the transcripts of her sessions that might give us a clue about the whole thing with her dad and whatever it was she learned; you know, the events leading up to her death—or do you think someone might have destroyed it if it incriminated Dr. Winter or something?” Kim asked.

"That is interesting; wonder why I never thought of that? Sure, I will call my attorney friend in New York and see what hoops we would have to jump through to get her records sent out here—
if
they are still anywhere to be found. I don't know if they would have kept them around, even in the archives, this long."

"Well, if you will see, I would appreciate it,” she said.

"Sure, Kim; I'd be happy to do that."

"Oh, and John—"

"Yes?"

"This is just a shot out of the blue—I didn't discuss it with Liz because I didn't want to get her hopes up, in case they won't release the records to us or they can't find them. She has pretty high aspirations that we can prove Missy's story—"

"I understand. Does she always take her investigations this seriously?"

"Well, yes—I guess we both do, now that you mention it,” Kim confessed.

"I'll get back with you later today and let you know what I find out, okay?"

"That sounds good. Can you email it to me?” she asked.

"Yeah, I could do that; what's your email address?” he said.

"It's Psyche482 at AOL-dot-com."

"All right; got it. Look for something by around noon at least."

"Thanks, John. I appreciate it."

"Well, I appreciate what you and Liz are trying to do. Just let me know anytime you think I can help with something like this. I may not like to be in the house, but that doesn't mean I'm not available to help,” he said.

"Thanks. I'm grateful you were here with her all afternoon, the kind of day it turned out to be for her."

"No problem; it's not as hard for me to go to the house now the two of you are there. I can tell a difference in the house already. It is more like it used to be when—when Missy was alive."

"Maybe it won't be too long before the place will feel good to you, and Betty can come see it for herself,” Kim said.

"That will be nice."

"Okay, well, I'd better let you go. Thanks again."

"Sure, Kim. Talk to you later. Bye"

"Goodbye, John."

Kim was still sitting at the breakfast bar in the end of the kitchen working a logic problem when Liz wandered down from her room at ten o'clock. “Well, good morning, glory,” she said. “How did you sleep?"

Liz climbed on one of the other barstools, yawned, said, “Oh, I'm still asleep—can't you tell?"

Kim grinned. “Yeah, now that you mention it, you do look to be still a little out of it."

Liz nodded. “Yes, that is the ticket, all right. Did you close my door so the beasties couldn't get in to wake me up?"

"Yes, I did. I peeped in about eight-thirty and you seemed to be snoozing so well, I tiptoed back out and closed the door, brought them down with me and closed off the halls so they couldn't go back up to scratch on your door."

"Thanks; I needed that,” Liz smiled.

"So—was it peaceful sleep?"

"Yes, it was. Thanks. No dreams or visitations; just lots of soft floating and rest."

"Are you hungry?” Kim asked.

"Mm—no. What did
you
have?"

Kim pouted, “Nothing but coffee and doughnuts."

"Doughnuts? Where did we get doughnuts?” Liz asked her interest piqued.