“Let’s start with the cold draft. Where do you notice it most?”
“Up in the attic is the only place I feel it. Follow me.”
Harry followed him up a wide, enclosed flight of steps, to a large space. The back wall was practically all glass, admitting lots of natural light. A couple of easels occupied one side of the room, with a partly finished canvas on one, and several paintings were propped up against the wall behind them. The other side contained a long work bench, with several large tubs underneath, while a large lump of clay on the bench showed signs of a work in progress.
“This must be a great place to work,” Harry said, “with so much natural light.”
“That’s what really sold me on the place.” Whitley moved to the right and took several paces forward. “I seem to feel it most on this side of the room.”
“Does it get colder if you move closer towards the window?”
Whitley shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought of doing that.”
Harry grinned and shook his head. This young man had a lot to learn about DIY home maintenance. He was pretty sure he had the answer to this. “Now what about the sound, the soft thud that you hear. Do you hear it more often in any particular spot, different times, or always at the same time?”
“That’s downstairs, in the bedroom.” He shivered as he led the way down again. “Whenever I hear it, I also hear – or think I do – little rodent feet pitter-pattering across the floor.”
“I’m not sure you’d hear them running across the floor, not unless there was a bunch of them.”
Whitley pointed at the wall. “There, the section between the closet and the end of the room.”
Harry walked over. “What’s on the other side?”
“Just the hallway, as far as I know.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Not really… except when I catch a glimpse of something…. a shadow that isn’t really there. Sometimes I think I’m losing my mind.”
“I doubt that,” Harry said. “I’m going to see if the building manager can put me in touch with the former tenant and get her story firsthand. Meanwhile, Ms Blackett is doing some research. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“The sooner, the better,” Whitley replied. “I’m worn out… not sleeping…and not eating right because I’m too tired.”
Harry took the elevator down to the ground floor. He had noticed the sign on the manager’s door when he entered the building earlier. He walked over and knocked.
The door opened almost immediately. “Hello. Can I help you?” The man was tall, thin, with white hair and glasses.
Harry introduced himself. “Are you the manager?”
“That’s me, Arthur Simms. What can I do for you, Mr. Hogan?”
“I have a couple questions concerning one of your tenants on the fourth floor.”
Simms took a step back to let Harry enter. “You’re right on time. I just made fresh coffee.”
“Sounds good,” Harry went in and sat down.
