― Lloyd Auerbach
There was nothing in the history of Poppy's house that suggested it might be haunted.
I searched the land title and the records of previous owners but it seemed commonplace enough. The house was originally built for a William Gladstone, an entrepreneur, who financed the building of a railway in the area.
After Gladstone's death, the house was passed on down through the family for a hundred years until it was purchased by a local pharmacist who sold the house to Poppy and retired to live in Turks and Caicos.
Nothing untoward at all. I was almost disappointed.
I returned to work on the Monday feeling dispirited but my mood changed rather quickly when I ran into Gail after my last lecture and invited her to an early supper at Pinnocho's, my favourite Italian restaurant.
We sat in the intimate dining room sipping wine, chatting predictably about department politics, until she asked about my weekend trip to Poppy's house and I was finally able to unburden my angst about not producing any results.
"I'm sure Poppy will be happy to get a bound book of her house and its history, even if its past isn't particularly remarkable," she consoled me. "After all, it could be worse--you could have discovered something dreadful, such as a murder."
"That's true," I smiled bleakly, "but even a murder might have added a certain notoriety to the houses's history."
"Well, it's all good," Gail reassured me. "Poppy's been through a lot. Her fiancé died in a rafting accident two years ago. I wanted to gift her with a history of the house to lift her spirits, so notoriety aside, a mundane coffee table book is probably for the best."
"Sorry to hear about her loss. I guess you're right."
A shadow crossed her features and I could sense there was something else.
"There's more to the story isn't there? That's why you commissioned me to investigate her house."
She grew somber and lowered her head. "There is," she whispered. I thought she might began to cry.
"What's troubling you, Gail? You can confide in me. I'll be discreet."
"It's just that there really is something about the house. Poppy changed after she moved in. I think it's the house that's influencing her mood."
"Are you sure she's not just working through grief , struggling to accept her loss?"
"No, it's something else," she said adamantly. "Frankly, the house creeps me out."
”why would you say that?” I asked.
“Because I saw something last time I was at the house—or maybe I should say, I think I saw someone, but it was more a shadow.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t a tree shadow or a trick of light?” I prompted.
“No, it wasn’t anything commonplace like that. It was more like a form or a man’s figure and I could feel a presence. My hair doesn’t stand on end when I see an ordinary shadow.”
“And where was this in the house?”
Gail shivered as she recalled the scene.
“That’s just it—it wasn’t in the house at all but leading down to the ravine. It was twilight and Poppy asked me to bring in the lawn chairs from the back patio and while I was doing that I caught a movement from the corner of my eye. It was definitely a person, of that, I’m certain.”
“So, basically you’re saying you saw a ghost?”
She bit her lip and wiped away a tear. “I know it sounds mystical and typical of what people imagine about an old house. I just hope you don’t think I sound crazy.”
I patted her hand. “I believe you and I don’t think you sound crazy at all because I saw much the same thing when I went back to visit Poppy on the weekend. I think Poppy’s house has a unique history, just not the kind I think she was expecting.”
Thank you!