“It’s a farm… there’s grass… probably some other old buildings…”
“A barn where winter hay used to be stored and another which housed some farm equipment. Why?”
“Mice are common in such places and they could have gotten into the house,” Harry said. “That would be my first guess.”
“I haven’t heard anything myself but several of the others have. But mice are nocturnal, so wouldn’t you hear them mostly at night?”
Harry nodded. “Most likely.”
“They hear things at all hours. One won’t go near the back pantry anymore. I need it checked out before I lose roommates.”
“No problem. I’ll be there tomorrow morning around ten and I’d like to speak to each person who heard anything.”
“Ten will be fine. That’s coffee break time so everyone will be together. Thank you, Mr. Hogan.” She rose and went to the door.
“Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything,” Harry said, with a chuckle.
“Yes, you have… you listened.” She went out, closing the door behind her.
Harry looked at Bertie. “I suspect she’s used to getting what she wants. How well do you know her?”
Bertie laughed. “Just from the library. She read a lot of history books and survival stories.”
***************
Harry pulled his truck into the newly finished parking lot at Black’s Farm with five minutes to spare. He sat for a few minutes, looking at the exterior of the house. It was quite a large place and it really did have an old-fashioned charm. The front door looked like solid wood and featured some intricate carving. Getting out of the truck, he walked across to the door, and knocked.
The door opened almost immediately. “Mr. Hogan, please come in. You’re just in time,” Ida Pinsent said. “We can discuss this ‘ghost’ thing over coffee.” He followed her to the dining room. She introduced the three ladies already seated, and Ella, who placed a platter of baked goods on the table before sitting down.
Ida directed Harry to a seat at the end of the table. There was silence as Ida poured the coffee and everyone helped themselves to the pastries.
Harry took a mouthful of coffee, thankful that they used mugs… not cups and saucers. “Don’t look so serious, ladies. Things that go ‘bump in the night’ usually have simple explanations. That’s what we’ll look for.”
He took a pen and notebook from his pocket. “First, I want you each to tell me what you heard and what it sounded like to you… starting on my left.. Ms Pinsent hasn’t heard anything, so we’ll start with the next in line. I’ll be concentrating on what you say and what I’m writing, so please start with your name.”
“Full name?”
“First names will do. When I stop writing, the next person in line can speak. Any questions?” They shook their heads. “Okay, go ahead.”
“Okay… well… I’m Shelia. To me, it sounds like an old-fashioned straw broom, like the scratching sound it makes when you’re sweeping a patio.”
“My name is Alice and, to me, it sounds like… you know that swishing sound you hear when the waves sweep up on the beach… like that.”
