I Still Dream About You

Dalton had given her. When none fit, Maggie was glad. But then Brenda pulled a screwdriver out of her purse and started jiggling it up and down in the lock.

“Don’t ruin the door, Brenda, let’s just wait.”

But Brenda, determined to get in, said, “Stand back,” and banged the door as hard as she could with her right hip, and they heard something snap with a loud crack.

Maggie said, “What was that?”

Brenda stood perfectly still for a moment, then said, “I don’t know… I just hope to God it wasn’t my hip. I don’t want to have to spend my money on a new hip.”

“Oh, no. Does it hurt?”

Brenda waited another moment. “No, I’m all right.” Then she hauled off and hit the door again, with her other hip. This time, the nails in the rusty lock gave way and the door opened with a loud screech, just wide enough so that Brenda was able to stick her arm inside. She felt around for a light switch but couldn’t find one, so she took the flashlight from Maggie and said, “Stay here.”

Maggie was not happy about being in the dark and said, “Brenda, I wish you wouldn’t go in there,” but Brenda had already pushed herself inside. She flashed her light all around the room and saw a large window with floor-to-ceiling curtains. She walked over and pulled the cord, and the curtains, rod and all, fell to the floor in a dusty heap with a loud thud.

“Uh-oh,” said Brenda.

Maggie called from the hall, “What was that? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a curtain.” After some of the dust settled, Brenda looked around. The room seemed almost empty, except for an easy chair, a small table placed by the window, and two huge steamer trunks standing over in the corner. She flashed her light up at the beams in the ceiling and in all the corners and then called out to Maggie, “No bats. Come on in.”

Maggie stepped in and looked around and was pleasantly surprised. “This is a nice-sized room.” She walked over to the window and gazed down into the gardens. “Oh wow, you can see the whole yard from here. I’d fix this room up as an office, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you call this a bonus room?”

Brenda didn’t answer; she was in the corner, inspecting the steamer trunks. “Look at the size of these things. They’re as tall as I am. Imagine trying to check these at the airport. Hey, look, they still have an address on them.” Brenda took out a tiny feather duster from her purse and dusted the trunks off to see what was written on the large faded yellow tags.

DELIVER TO:

Mr. Edward Crocker

c/o Crestview

1800 Crest Road, atop Red Mountain

Birmingham, Alabama

SENT FROM:

Miss Edwina Crocker

1785 Whitehall

London, England S.W.

PLEASE HOLD FOR ARRIVAL

June 2, 1946

Maggie walked over. “Oh, for gosh sakes, I wonder if there’s anything in them?”

“I’m about to find out,” Brenda said, pulling out the screwdriver again. “You said Mrs. Dalton didn’t want any of this stuff; if we find anything of value, we could always sell it and give the money to charity, couldn’t we?”

“Well… yes, I guess so, but I really don’t think we should open things until we ask her.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it; she won’t care.” Brenda then proceeded to snap open all four locks and pulled the trunks apart. One trunk was packed full of ladies’ evening gowns, and the other was full of men’s formal clothes.

“Oh heck, it’s just a bunch of old clothes,” said Brenda.

But Maggie was delighted and pulled a gown out of the lady’s trunk. “Oh my goodness, these are just beautiful! I think most of these are originals from Paris!” Brenda held one up. Sadly, they were too small to fit either one of them. Maggie then opened up one of the small drawers on the side and found a pair of black beaded evening slippers with a purse to match. “Oh wow. If Mrs. Dalton doesn’t want them, these will be great period costumes for the theater.”

“Great,” Brenda said, “but before you start giving anything away, let’s see if there’s anything else in here.” While Maggie continued to examine the gowns, Brenda was busy pulling aside each one of the men’s suits. Suddenly, she jumped back and said, “Woooooo…!”

Maggie looked over. “What? Did you find something?”

Brenda did not answer, but stood there with her eyes wide, pointing. “Woooooo,” she said again.

“What is it?” Maggie walked over and looked where Brenda was pointing. At that same moment, a ray of golden sun shot through the window and lit up the inside of the trunk like a spotlight. What Maggie saw then nearly scared her to death. Hanging neatly on a hanger, among the men’s evening clothes, was a man’s skeleton, completely dressed in a formal Scottish kilt and a plaid sash, with one bony hand still stuck in the pocket of a black velvet jacket.

Maggie grabbed Brenda’s arm. “Good God, is it real? That can’t be a real skeleton, can it?”

“I don’t know, but I’m about to find out. Stand back.” Brenda leaned in a little closer and poked it with the screwdriver, and what she hit was definitely hard bone. She dropped her purse and yelled, “Hell, yes, it’s real… Let’s get out of here!”

And the two of them sounded like a herd of buffalo, running back down the narrow stairs. When they finally got to the first floor and caught their breath and could speak again, Maggie said, “I have to sit down.”

“I thought I was going to have a heart attack.” Brenda, still breathing heavily, held out her hand. “Look at me, I’ve got the willies-I’m shaking all over. I need a cookie or a piece of cake or something or I might pass out. My emergency chocolate is upstairs in my purse. Will you go get it?”

Maggie looked at her. “Me? No, I’m not going back up there! What emergency chocolate?”

“Never mind,” Brenda said and flopped down on the sofa and started fanning herself with a pillow. Maggie collapsed in the chair across from her and said, “I told you we shouldn’t have gone up there. I don’t know why you don’t listen to me.”

“How was I supposed to know there was a dead man up there?”

“We should have just left those trunks alone then-” Maggie stopped in mid-sentence and put her hands over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

“ ‘Oh my God’ is right,” said Brenda. “That thing was looking right at me.”

“No, Brenda. I mean really, oh my God.”

“What?”

Then Maggie uttered the dreaded word: “Disclosure!”

Brenda stopped fanning herself. Suddenly, all their dreams of a big fat commission began to fade away. Both having been in real estate as long as they had, they knew from past experience that people were very reluctant to buy a house where a dead body had been found. And certainly not at anywhere near the asking price.

“Well. There goes my TV,” Brenda wailed.

Maggie was shaking her head. “I just can’t believe it. Why did it have to be this house?”

“What are we going to do now?” asked Brenda.

“I don’t know…” she sighed. “I guess the first thing we have to do is call the police. Oh, I hate