More Harry Hogan stories!
Max Marshall walked into the Sunset Seniors’ Home and looked around. Bingo White, a long-time friend had called earlier that morning, asking him to stop by. Bingo said he needed a favour and that he’d explain when Max got there. He’d also said Max was to come up to his room, so Max headed for the stairs.
When he reached Bingo’s door, which was just across from the elevator, he knocked.
“It’s unlocked,” Bingo called from inside. “I didn’t hear the elevator,” he added, as Max entered and closed the door behind him.
Max shook his head. “I can still manage one or two flights of stairs, but more than that might be a challenge.”
Bingo laughed. “Approaching wet weather is my problem. On such days, I have to content myself with walking back and forth in the hallways. Can only do stairs on good days and, even then, I’m slower than I used to be.”
“The perks of growing old, I guess,” Max said as he sat down in the armchair across from his friend. “Now, what did you want to see me about?”
Bingo took a deep breath. “I think you’re familiar with the Baker Farm.”
Max nodded. “I suppose Sol Baker and I were what you might call casual friends. But he’s been dead a few years.”
“I’m aware of that,” Bingo said. “Do you know if the place has been sold… or perhaps rented out?”
“Not that I’ve heard about,” Max said. “It’s empty, as far as I know. Do you know someone interested in it?”
“No,” Bingo said slowly, “but I’m not sure it’s empty… at least, not all the time.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe it’s nothing, but I can see it from my window, and during the past three or four months, I think someone’s been over there. Don’t know if someone’s actually living there… or just using the place on weekends for something.”
“What makes you think that? Have you seen someone over there?”
“Not exactly, but I’ve seen light shining out from the window in the top floor of the silo that Sol had built onto the house,” Bingo explained. “And, if memory serves me, you can only get into the silo from inside the house.”
Max nodded. “Yes, from the back porch. I asked him about that once, and he said that way he didn’t have to shovel snow to get inside during the winter, and there was no way anyone could sneak in to steal the grain.”
“I heard he had the silo’s top floor done up like a kind of private library, or reading room, or some such thing. Were you ever up there?” Bingo asked.
“Once,” Max said. “I helped him carry some boxes of books up. Sol was a reader… had been ever since he learned how… still had every book he’d ever bought or been given, right back to his early childhood.”
“I know his wife died when their daughter was young… don’t remember her name… an only child, I believe.”
