Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ here. Poor kid. She lost her way in the dark basement.”

      “Bet that scared the crap out of her. Creepy old basement—especially in the dark! I’ll check the outside wires. This time of year we get a lot the gale force winds blowing in from the Atlantic. Might be a loose connection. Or could be some wires shorting out. I’ll get right on it, wouldn’t want to take any chances of a fire.”

      Tom rummaged through the cupboards. Finding a bag of blueberry bagels, he handed one to Joe. Through a mouthful of bagel he said, “I need to make a few calls; I left my cell phone in the living room. Have another cup of coffee. I’ll be right back.”

      Chapter 6

      Looking around the kitchen, Joe was troubled that it seemed so unfamiliar to him. He’d been in there many times. Apparently he hadn’t paid much attention. He always thought he was very observant. Now he wondered what else he’d never noticed around the place.

      The kitchen could be entered from either end of the dining room, though the south door was bolted shut. There was an immense fireplace, probably used at one time for cooking, but now only for warmth and ambiance in the large, drafty kitchen. The fireplace was about ten feet wide in the middle of a brick wall that was painted white, as was the rest of the kitchen. Various cooking utensils hung from the wall and high ceiling—copperware, cast iron skillets, hammered brass utensils and several huge, iron ladles.

      In the center of the kitchen was an oak table surrounded by eight ladder-backed chairs. The oak-planked floor was varnished to a high sheen, with braided rugs in shades of blue scattered throughout. The southern wall had built-in upper and lower cabinets running the full length of the kitchen, about 20 feet. It was obvious the Lindemans had spent some money to modernize the room. He wondered who they hired to do the work. The counter tops, with double sinks, were tiled in white ceramic with periwinkle blue tile bordering the edge. There was a restaurant-sized gas stove and a double-door refrigerator with a doublewide freezer below. Joe opened the doors; someone had made sure it was well stocked.

      There was only one wall in the kitchen with windows, though they took up most of the wall. It overlooked a forest of beech trees, now rigid and stark in the morning shadows— sentinels to the ocean-side estate. Just beyond the beech trees was a forest of white pines.

      Joe snooped around some more. Why not? He’d be spending a lot of time here and better re-familiarize himself with everything. He opened a door into a small room that housed the hot water heater and more storage shelves. The water heater looked new, high capacity, too. Another door opened to a short hallway leading to a bathroom that had been added. Joe peeked inside. A claw foot bathtub was visible through the half-open door. There was a door to the upstairs and another doorway next to the bathroom leading to the back porch.

      Joe pushed against the door, the hinges squeaking dryly, swollen from the damp air. He breathed deeply. The cold, biting autumn air proved briskly refreshing after the warmth of the kitchen. Stepping out onto the freshly painted porch, he walked the length to the railing. In the distance he could see the solitary figure of a woman walking along the water’s edge. She darted in and out, running from the waves as they crashed against the shore, spraying water over her. Her shouts of glee could be heard even from this far away. He heard Tom come out the door onto the porch.

      With his mug of coffee in his hand, Tom stood beside him at the railing. “Amazing view,” he said. It was breathtaking. The house was built on a point of land, and from this perspective you could see the ocean to the north and east.

      “I’d like to take a look around.”

      “Sure. I’ll grab our coats. It’s freezing out. Wait here,” Joe said.

      Pulling their collars up against the stiff, cold wind, they walked down the steep porch stairs. A patio extended beyond the end of the house and along the east side. Beech trees surrounded the house to the north. Flower gardens, overrun with dead growth, went almost to the edge of the cliff. There was a long path though the middle of the gardens that led to beach access stairs built into the side of the cliff. The beach lay some thirty feet below.

      Joe and Tom hurried down the narrow walkway to the cliff’s edge. The view was spectacular. Squinting against the bright sun, they gazed far out across the ocean and both would swear, with the sky so clear, they could see the Isles of Westmoor, at least seven miles out.

      “Awesome isn’t it?” Joe asked.

      “Absolutely spectacular. I’ve missed the ocean. It’s magnificent. Untamed nature. There’s such a feel of power unleashed with the waves crashing against the rocks. Makes me feel insignificant. Yet, even with all the chaotic wildness of the surf, it makes me feel tranquil.”

      “You’re right. It’s mesmerizing,” They stood in silence, each lost in his private thoughts.

      A gust of cold Atlantic air whistling through the trees interrupted the silence. They decided to finish touring the grounds so they could get back to the shelter of the house. Following another path that led along the east side of the house, they came to a landscaped area thickly planted with withered, berry-covered viburnum bushes and wind-dried flowers. It was easy to imagine how lush and beautiful the garden must be in the warmer months.

      The ground sloped gradually uphill as they got closer to the front of the house. The front of the house was only about three feet above ground level, whereas the back porch of the house was about ten feet above ground. Joe explained that since the ground was composed of granite, most houses along the ocean were built according to the rock formation. Many of the homes, like this one, were built into, rather than on, the granite.

      Tom had his first view of the house in daylight. It was a splendid home. The three-story house had been newly painted pale gray with charcoal-gray shutters and trim around the windows and white doors. The floor of the veranda was painted dark gray, the porch railings white. The house had a serene and comfortable look about it. All along the veranda, sheepberry bushes grew to shelter the south side of the house from the summer heat.

      Joe and Tom ventured to the west side. Like the north, it was planted with beech trees. Beyond them was the white pine forest. Wanting to see the house from a more distant vantage point, they walked down the gravel driveway for about a quarter of a mile and turned to look back.

      “It’s a great place, really well-constructed. A credit to the architect and contractor,” Joe said to a smiling Tom. “Yes, sir, this is a fine house. It’s been well cared for, for the most part. So many of these old coastal homes have been let go. Such a shame. Although I see a lot of properties are being bought up and renovated.”

      “Glad to know things are looking up around here.” Tom began walking toward the house.

      “I better get to work while the weather’s holding,” Joe said. “Think I’ll start by doing some testing on the electrical connections at the back of the house. Go from there.”

      “I don’t know much about wiring, but I’d be glad to help,” Tom offered.

      “Naw. Not now. I’m sure you have things to take care of. If I find something though, I’ll hunt you down,” Joe replied, walking away.

      Chapter 7

      Tom watched Joe disappear around the side of the house. Joe's quite an interesting fellow. I’m glad our paths crossed. Tom returned to the kitchen, his mind full of plans for the rest of the morning. His cell phone was upstairs, so he decided to put off making any calls for a while. He decided to make a list of everything he needed to СКАЧАТЬ