They wandered through the dark house, staying close to each other. Floorboards squeaked underfoot. Shadows swirled just outside their beams of light, forming into nocturnal creatures-bats, wolves, clawed animals. Gretchen was getting edgier by the second.
When she found herself lagging behind and alone in one of the rooms, she almost panicked. That’s when she decided to get a better grip on her runaway emotions. She wasn’t going to let a ghost reduce her to a babbling ball of blubber. Even if this house contained an authentic spirit, what could it do to her? It had no substance. It couldn’t pick up a vase and break it over her head.
She was in a large room, obviously the master bedroom at one time. A triple armoire with a beveled mirror loomed directly ahead, taking up most of the space on the wall. On her left was a king-size bed with a heavy wood frame. The mattress was protected with a dustcover. Beneath her feet was a faded Persian rug.
Gretchen peered out a set of French doors that led to the balcony overlooking the street. The ground seemed far below.
Two beams of light in the hallway assured her that Nina and Caroline were right outside. Nina’s husky voice floated on the air, speaking to her mother. Another assurance that she wasn’t really alone.
With a rush of nervous excitement, Gretchen realized that she did believe in ghosts. Why else would she feel this frightened by the prospect? Could she communicate with it?
Gretchen focused on reaching out to the apparition.
If you exist, let me feel your presence.
She listened.
Nothing.
She had conveyed doubt with her thoughts. No ifs.
Let me feel your presence.
Gretchen waited.
Nothing.
Come on. Help me out. Show yourself.
She strained to hear sound. Was there a chill in the air? She’d heard about cold spots.
Silence.
Then a sound.
A noise, like a mouse. An old house like this could have nests of them. Rats, even. Gretchen hated insects and rodents, and Arizona had especially nasty ones, poisonous things with stingers and teeth. And pack rats.
The sound again, coming from over by the wall near the armoire.
She shined her beam of light directly into the mirror. Her reflection was distorted. She looked pale, as Nina had said. Ready to flee. At least nothing stood behind her. Wouldn’t that be frightening? To look in the mirror and see something not quite human behind her?
She opened the armoire doors and peered inside, finding nothing but emptiness and a faint smell of cedar.
“There you are,” Nina said from right behind her. Gretchen gave in to her fears and let out a scream.
“Shhh,” her aunt scolded. “You’ll frighten the spirit.”
Her mother stood next to Nina.
“You scared me almost to death!” Gretchen’s heart pounded at full throttle.
“We came to find you.” Nina was admiring the armoire. “Antique and in perfect condition. Some of the really old ones had secret compartments built into them.”
“To hide an illicit lover?” Gretchen’s petrified imagination was going strong tonight.
“Exactly. Let’s check it out.”
“I was over by the door when I heard a sound from this direction,” Gretchen said. “It must have been a mouse running along the wall behind the armoire.”
“I’ll take a look,” Caroline said.
Gretchen stepped inside the armoire and tapped the back wall of the enormous walk-in wardrobe. Her curiosity over the possibility of a secret place was stronger than her fear. Besides, she wasn’t alone anymore. She tapped the back panel again. “It sounds hollow, doesn’t it?”
“Do it one more time.” Nina came closer and put her ear against the panel. Gretchen tapped with her knuckles again, staring at her aunt, waiting for her opinion. Nina’s eyes grew wide and she nodded.
“No sign of rodent droppings back there,” Caroline said, coming around. “I’ll call an exterminator tomorrow to be on the safe side.”
“Come inside,” Nina called out. “Gretchen’s found a real honest-to-goodness secret room.”
“How does the door open up?” Gretchen ran her hand over the wood, feeling for a latch or release.
“How would I know?” Nina answered. “I’ve never been inside one before. But hurry. Maybe it leads into the secret world of Narnia.”
Gretchen couldn’t help chuckling. “Why am I not surprised that you believe in fantasy worlds?” she said.
Her fingers felt something, a patch of felt, followed by the cold touch of metal. She felt it give and heard the lock release. The secret door moved ever so slightly, allowing her to get her fingers between it and the wall of the armoire.
“Ready for another universe, Nina?”
The secret door swung open. Gretchen backed up, trying to remember where she’d left her flashlight. She bumped into Nina, who moved sideways and swung her own flashlight beam into the gaping cavern of darkness they had uncovered. Her light flicked along the top of the armoire compartment then swept lower along the rich wood panel. Nina worked the light downward until it lit up something near the floor.
Gretchen felt the room spin.
Nina gasped and dropped the flashlight. Her aunt screamed.
Caroline grabbed at Gretchen’s arm, trying to pull her out of the armoire.
She felt paralyzed, too shocked to move, riveted in place.
The skeletal remains of a human being were crumpled on the floor of the secret compartment.
Gretchen turned and ran with her mother and her aunt, but not before she’d seen the rest.
On the wardrobe’s floor, beside the fleshless bones, lay a small cloth body.
The doll’s head was nowhere in sight.
Neither was the skeleton’s.
20
He gazes curiously up the street, not that he can see the house from where he stands. He’d have to walk two blocks, then over one more if he wants to stand right in front of it.
His cherry pipe tobacco, the first bowl of the day, catches the flame from the matchstick. Smoke swirls upward on this gray morning, the first overcast sky in weeks. Let it rain for a change, really come down in buckets. He likes when the earth can’t take the load and water runs in streams, flooding streets. Weather reporters in Phoenix have a mundane job. The same old, same old. Pollen counts aren’t interesting for long. But rain, that’s something to start a conversation.
Traffic-cars and pedestrians-hurries along. Already, early this morning, he has waved to some, called out to others, listened patiently while neighbors griped about this and that, pollution, smog, neighborhood pets, you name it.
All the while his thoughts bubble like a shaken can of soda, ready to explode. Especially now, with what he’s just heard.
“Mr. B.,” she says, calling him back from wherever his mind has wandered. “Want one?” Cramming Dunkin’ Donuts into her piehole. Offering friendship. He waves it away without transferring his eyes from up the street. Nice try, but no thanks.
He hears a growl from inside a bag on her shoulder. Ratlike thing with beady eyes stares out at him. Growls again. They exchange glares. The dog looks away first.
She’s finished with the tale, but he has questions. “Skeleton in the closet, you say? Imagine that.” Everybody has ’em, only this isn’t what she means. These are real bones. He wonders what they look like. “Anybody get a
