“Must be twenty… no, twenty-five years,” Joe said. “Said she talked to him.”
“What happened to her? Is she still around?”
“Arthritis… crippled her… in long-term care.”
“Is it nearby?” Harry asked.
Joe shook his head. “South of here… new place.”
When he got back to the office, Harry asked Bertie to check online and see if he could find out where Mrs. Peters was because he’d like to talk to her if possible. Minutes later, she had the answer.
“Unfortunately, Mrs. Lillian Peters died three days ago.Listen to this.” She pointed at her computer screen. “These are comments from some of the other residents she often talked to.
“She told Sadie how her husband, Rufus, would visit her every night after he died. She would tell him about her day, what she had done, if she had been out and who she had seen, even shared news about their neighbours. She said it kept her from being lonely and it kept her from losing her mind.
“Maud said that Lillian told her she had not experienced her husband’s ghostly visits since moving; she thought that maybe the house was the only place he could visit, or maybe it was just all in her own head.
“Apparently, Lillian had always said that her husband had loved roses and her one regret was that she had never had any success with growing them.”
********************
Harry returned to visit Phoebe the following morning with the intention of checking for drafts. Since the house was old, it was possible that the insulation wasn’t up to code. Or the windows might need caulking. “This is what we could find about the house and the Peters couple. My associate printed it out for you.” He handed her an envelope. “You can read it later, and maybe do further research for a more complete history. Meanwhile, have you noticed any drafts anywhere?”
She shook her head. “Not really, but now that you mention it, there is something I forgot,” she said.
“And what might that be?” Harry asked.
“Music,” she said. “Sometimes I hear music. But it doesn’t happen very often and I forgot about it until I heard it again last night.”
“What kind of music?”
“It’s not very loud and, as I said, I don’t hear it often. I think it depends on how much wind there is… and probably which way it’s blowing. But it’s a lot like the tinkling of wind chimes.”
“Where does it sound like it’s coming from? The trees in the back yard would be a great place for chimes.”
Phoebe tipped her head to one side and looked at him. “That’s the strange part, because it sounds like it’s coming from the attic – which is ridiculous. No one would put wind chimes up in the attic.”
“Have you looked outside?” Harry asked.
“Yes, but I couldn’t see anything. I think… I think it might be how the ghost is making his – or her – presence known.”
