More Harry Hogan stories!
Harry Hogan leaned back in his desk chair, both hands cupped around a mug of coffee, just staring at the wall across from him.
Bertie noticed the faraway look in his eyes as she came in. “Daydreaming about your next fishing trip?”
He shook his head, drank a mouthful of coffee and placed the mug on his desk. “Nope. I can’t stop thinking about that cave. Something just doesn’t feel right.”
“You mean the cave Joe took you to?”
“Yeah, the more I think about it, the less sure I am about the source of that light.”
“The Restless Spirit is haunting you, is it?”
“In a way, I guess. I’m not sure that someone using a light in the cave is the source.”
“Then what do you think is causing it?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but I can’t get it out of my head.”
“Then do something about it,” Bertie said. “That’s what my mother always said when I worried about something.”
“Good advice,” he replied, with a chuckle. “Will you see what you can dig up on the lighthouse, as far back as you can get, from all possible sources?”
Bertie grinned. “Right up my alley. What’s your plan?”
“I’ll talk to Joe again, and see where it goes from there.” He stood up and grabbed his jacket from the peg by the door. “We’ll catch up later.”
She nodded but didn’t see him leave. Her fingers were already flying over the computer keyboard.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A short time later, Harry parked his truck and walked up to the door of Joe Grant’s little mobile home with coffee and donuts in hand. He knocked and then went in.
Joe was sitting at his table, reading the newspaper. He looked up as Harry entered. “You come bearing gifts. You want information.”
Harry chuckled. “You know me too well.” He sat down across from Joe, placed his ‘gifts’ on the table and opened the donut box. Two hands reached in at the same time.
After the first bite of donut and mouthful of coffee, Joe said, “What’s on your mind?”
“I’ve been thinking about the cave,” Harry said.
“What about it?,” Joe asked.
“I’m not convinced about the source of this spirit light.”
“Does it really matter?”
“Maybe not,” Harry said. “But I don’t like to leave things unsolved.”
Joe laid his cup on the table and quietly said, “Been keeping an eye on it… now and then.”
Harry frowned. “Why?”
“No reason. Just did.”
“Did you learn anything?” Harry asked.
“Saw someone… twice… Isaac Marshall.”
“Isn’t he related to Miss Pinkerton’s housekeeper?”
Joe nodded. “Nephew.”
“Did he actually go in the tunnel?” Joe nodded again. “Do you know if he went down to the cave?”
Joe shrugged. “Don’t know. Didn’t follow.”
Harry shook his head and drew a deep breath. Sometimes, getting information from Joe was like pulling teeth – painful! “Did you speak to him?” Joe shook his head.
Harry got to his feet. “Okay, let’s go.”
