“We both grew up in small towns,” Winnie added, “and I think I always knew we’d move after retirement. We both liked this place at first, but now I’m not so sure.”
“What changed your mind?” Harry asked.
“It’s this ghost problem, I’m not entirely sure I’m prepared to live with a ghost.”
“Winnie, there is no ghost.” Cyril reached over to pat her hand.
“You haven’t heard the story behind it,” she said.
Harry’s eyebrows went up. “Would you care to tell us the story?”
Winnie drew a deep breath. “A young couple named Simmons used to live here, apparently very much in love, recently married. She was always home from work before him and would have supper ready when he arrived.”
“My late wife used to do that, but often had to keep it in the oven until I got home. Police hours are not always predictable,” Harry said. “Continue.”
“Anyway, when the husband got home, he would ring the doorbell and present her with some small gift, just as he did before they married… a cupcake, a bunch of wildflowers, a small package of mint-flavoured chocolates… things like that.”
“Still in the honeymoon stage,” Cyril said.
Winnie smiled and continued, “The day before their third anniversary, when the doorbell rang, she opened it to find a policeman standing there. James Smmons had been killed in a head-on collision on the way home from work.”
Harry briefly closed his eyes. “Not easy news to receive – or to give. Did she stay here after that?”
“She stayed and raised her daughter, born seven months later. She used her husband’s life insurance to pay off the mortgage. She continued to work, and her mother-in-law came to live with her and care for the child until she was fifteen. At that time, the mother-in-law, who had mobility issues, went into a retirement home.” Winnie paused to sip her coffee.
“By the time we bought the place, the daughter had finished college and was living in the city,” Cyril added. “The mother moved to be closer to her daughter.”
“So where does the ghost come in?” Harry asked.
“According to Janet, Mrs. Simmons always claimed that her husband’s ghost rang the doorbell precisely at 5:45 pm every day, Monday to Friday, which is the time he used to get home from work.”
“Where did Mrs. Thorne hear the story?”
“She said Mrs. Simmons told her. She also said it was sort of comforting, as if he was still watching out for her – and their daughter.”
Harry rubbed his chin. “Why would he still be ringing the bell now that she no longer lives here?”
“Janet and I think he’s confused because he can’t find his wife.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake! A ghost who’s confused? Wouldn’t he be aware of when she moved and follow her to her new place?” Cyril asked.
“Not necessarily,” Harry said quietly.
Cyril looked at him, eyebrows drawn down. “I didn’t think you believed in ghosts.”
Harry laughed and shook his head. “I don’t, but I try to keep an open mind because other people do believe. We know a young woman, very knowledgeable about these things. She is making it part of her university studies,” he explained. “According to her, a ghost who dies away from home often returns to his or her last known dwelling because it is familiar.”
