Fixing To Die

“The same thing we’ll do when Clementine decides to retire,” Dickce said. “Feel like we’ve lost our rudder.”

“What a depressing thought,” An’gel said. “I will feel really old then, because she’s younger than we are.”

Peanut rushed into the room, woofing happily at the sight of An’gel, who never failed to make a fuss over him. She did so now, and Peanut rested his head on her knee. He gazed adoringly up at her while she stroked his head and told him how handsome and clever he was.

Benjy, carrying Endora, walked into the room moments later. He resumed his seat near Dickce, and Endora jumped from his arms to climb into Dickce’s lap. She accepted Dickce’s stroking as her due and meowed to encourage its continuance.

“Did they show any signs of hesitation or fear when you came by the stairs?” Dickce asked.

“No, ma’am,” Benjy said. “They’ve been fine since the moment we walked into the kitchen.”

“I think the true test will be when we take them upstairs,” An’gel said. “Other than the business with the door, we haven’t experienced anything except on the stairs and on the second floor.”

“So you’re admitting that animals might be able to sense spirits?” Dickce said.

“Not necessarily,” An’gel said. “We’ll have to see what, if anything, happens.”

Marcelline interrupted the discussion by rolling in the tea cart. “Here we go,” she said as she brought the cart to a halt near An’gel’s chair. “Would you like me to serve?”

“Thank you,” An’gel said, “but we’ll do that.”

Marcelline nodded and turned to go. Then she turned back, her expression hesitant. “Miss An’gel, I couldn’t help overhearing what y’all were talking about.” She gestured toward Peanut, sniffing at the cake slices atop the tea cart, and Endora, resting in Dickce’s lap.

“That’s all right,” Dickce said. “Do you have something to tell us? Please do.”

“Well, it’s about Miss Mary’s little dog,” the housekeeper said. “He died a few months ago. He was old, and Miss Mary’d had him since he was a pup, before she and Mr. Henry got married. Anyway, that little dog, there were times when he wouldn’t go up or down those stairs to save his life.” She shook her head. “Miss Mary’d have to carry him, and he’d whimper the whole time.”

“Other times he was fine?” An’gel asked.

“Sure was.” Marcelline nodded. “He’d run up and down the stairs without a care in the world. Until he got too old and crippled, that is. It always gave me the chills when he wouldn’t go near those stairs without being afraid of whatever was there the rest of us couldn’t see.” She shivered suddenly. “I felt it myself. Coldest feeling I ever had.”

An’gel took hold of Peanut’s collar to keep him from investigating the enticing smells from the cart any closer. “When did this start? The cold on the stairs, I mean.”

Marcelline shrugged. “I don’t rightly know. Ever since I’ve been working here, and that’s a mighty long time. There’s somebody else occupying this house besides us living folks, that’s all I can tell you.” She turned and walked out of the parlor.

CHAPTER 15

Dickce felt both chilled and excited by Marcelline’s parting words. Her own experiences with the unexplained at Riverhill notwithstanding, Dickce had tried to maintain a stance of intelligent inquiry about the whole business. Granted, she and An’gel had not personally encountered another situation like the one at Cliffwood before, though friends of theirs in Athena and other places had occasionally owned up to odd goings-on in their old houses. An’gel had always been the one who refused to give much credence to the existence of lingering spirits while Dickce was more willing to believe that some things couldn’t be easily explained away. Dickce did not doubt the housekeeper firmly believed that a spirit or a revenant of some sort remained at Cliffwood from a time in the distant past.

Now Dickce looked at her sister and wondered what An’gel was thinking about Marcelline’s statements. She doubted An’gel was ready to commit fully to the fact of a resident ghost, but perhaps she might be less inclined to dismiss the possibility as they continued to investigate. She decided to ask her sister, knowing that An’gel likely wouldn’t say anything unless pressed to do so.

“What do you think of what Marcelline just told us?” Dickce asked.

An’gel shrugged before she picked up the coffeepot and began to pour. She didn’t say anything until she had filled all three cups and set the pot down again. “I’m sure Marcelline isn’t making things up to frighten or titillate us. She sounded completely sincere, I thought.”

Peanut woofed and looked hopefully again at the lemon cake slices on dessert plates atop the tea cart. “No, Peanut, that isn’t for you,” An’gel said. “Or for Endora.” She glanced at the cat, apparently asleep in Dickce’s lap.