Old Man Smell

Or Pop Rhymes With Top

Michelle D. Baillargeon
 One

T he sound of gravel crunching under car tires caught Topper’s

attention enough to wake him from his nap. His spirit lifted
as he awoke, anticipating company. He was lonely, company
would be a nice change. But he didn’t want just any company, he’d
learned to be cautious. Topper moved quickly but carefully to the
cobweb covered window that looked out on to the parking lot. He
stood just to one side, in the shadows of an old cabinet, so that he could
not be seen. All he needed was to be rousted by a cop. Cop rhymes
with Top.
Topper raised the bottle in his left hand to his lips and took a sip,
briefly swishing the small mouthful around before swallowing it. He
hadn’t tasted the liquid or felt its fire for some time now, but he drank
it anyway, more out of habit and ritual than desire. He took a moment
to remember the warmth that used to spread over his chest as it worked
its way to his stomach and smiled.
He held his breath as he scanned the parking lot. Maybe it’ll be
those teenagers again. The smile stayed on his lips as looked for them.
They were never bothered by him, nor did they chase him off. And
they were always laughing and having a good time. He liked it when
they were here, it made the place less lonesome and he’d enjoyed their

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company very much. They usually picked out a spot in the back of the
building and drank beers and smoked a bit, laughing and joking about
their teenage lives. When he got up the nerve to join them that first
time, no one seemed to mind. Or the second time, for that matter.
Topper turned his attention back to the view outside his window.
An SUV was coming to a stop halfway between the roadway and the
building. There were two people inside, a man and a woman. He
exhaled as relief washed over him, followed by disappointment. It was
not a cop, but it wasn’t the kids either.
He took a half step back to further conceal himself in the shadows.
Top bit his bottom lip and watched the couple. He was curious but
wary, these were people he’d never seen before. What could they
possibly want?
He took another sip and tried to comfort himself. Maybe they won’t
even come in. That thought gave him some relief, but it also made him
sad. Maybe they’re nice. They could be nice. Topper’s heart beat a little
faster, fear and hope battled it out inside him.
He thought about retreating to the space he’d created out of
discarded cardboard and old blankets and looked back at its general
direction. He smiled again, proud of his little sleeping nook. Nook was
a pretentious, designer term. He didn’t care though, that’s what it was.
It was cozy, comfortable and sheltered him from the cold. But, it also
kept him out of sight of prying eyes. Passing time, and a bit of weather
here and there, disguised the outside of his nook so that it blended with
the rest of the crap in here. Top knew that people only see what they
want to see. To the untrained eye, his nook was just another pile of
junk that had been left behind. But to Topper, it was home and he was
proud of it. He turned back to the window, the people were out of the
SUV now. I can always hide if I have to. Pride rhymes with hide.

2
 Two

A ggie yawned quietly as she turned into the empty parking lot.
She glanced over at her best friend Rider, who shifted in the
passenger seat and opened his eyes as the vehicle slowed
and came to a stop.
“You Ok?” he asked her, realizing at once that this was not their
destination.
“Yeah, I just needed to stop and stretch.” Aggie nodded and smiled
at her friend, “I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open.”
Aggie turned off the engine, unbuckled her seatbelt and got out,
Rider followed from his side and they met at the front of the SUV. The
friends both took a moment to stretch. Rider spread his arms wide for a
moment and then placed his hands on his hips, turning at the waist.
Aggie touched her toes then stood up straight and rolled her neck until
she felt, and heard, a crack, “that’s better.”
“I hope so, I could hear that all the way over here.” Rider gave his
own neck a roll, but was not as successful as Aggie and was not
rewarded with a crack. He shrugged and they both chuckled.
“Maybe after you take the next shift,” Aggie hinted, still smiling,
“you’re probably too rested for a good, satisfying neck roll.”
“How much longer until we get back?” Rider looked around at

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their surroundings. Beyond the empty parking lot were two giant, obvi-
ously abandoned, buildings. They appeared to him to be held up by
nothing more than rusted metal and weathered plywood. Towering
over the site like ancient twin sentinels were two long-dead silos.
“We’ve still got a few hours to go,” Aggie replied, following
Rider’s gaze. “I wonder what this place used to be. See any signs?”
They both looked around, searching for a sign that would indicate
the name or type of business that used to occupy these buildings. There
were none, either on the building or at the road side. The only thing
nearby with any writing on it was a rickety billboard that asked you to
“Eat at Mama’s - Ten Miles Ahead!” It sat patiently (for many years
Aggie guessed, judging by the amount of faded and torn spots on the
billboard) in the middle of the field across the street, keeping watch
over a promising crop of weeds. Aggie had a feeling that Mama was
probably Grandma by now.
Rider shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the nearest build-
ing. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in ages.” He approached
the window, which was inexplicably intact, and leaned against it
cupping his hands around his eyes so that he could see inside. “The
silos make me think it used to be a farm,” he backed away from the
window and tapped the glass, “but there’s some old equipment in there
along with a few stray pieces of lumber. So, maybe a sawmill too?”
“Really?” Aggie smiled and followed him to the window. She
peered through the glass, mimicking Rider. “Wow. Look at the light in
there! Well, the shadows.” Aggie dropped one hand from the window
and poked Rider with it, “think we could get in?”
Aggie’s smile was frozen on her face. She was already imagining
the stark black and white photos she’d take: light pouring over the old
rusted machinery, the gritty dark shadows lingering at the edges, dust
glimmering in the sun rays.
Not waiting for a response from her friend, she backed away from
the window to search for a door. She found one at the far right end of
the building, padlocked. Undeterred, she decided to circle the building
and said so to Rider. “There has to be another door, or at least a loose
board somewhere. Right?”

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 Old Man Smell

“You’re not serious, are you? Look.” Rider indicated a pair of

black metal signs with white print posted along the front of the
building ‘No Trespassing.’ Aggie finally paused long enough in her
excitement to pay attention to her friend and what he was saying. He
was shaking his head and getting ready to laugh. Rider pointed to the
locked door, “they locked it for a reason, they obviously don’t want
anyone in there.”
Aggie considered what he said and agreed, for a moment. “I
know,” her shoulders slumped and her smile faded in defeat, “you’re
right.” She wasn’t quite ready to give up completely, she really
wanted to get into that building. The edgy, industrial looking photos
she could take in there called to her. She took a breath, put a non-
confrontational smile on her face and gave it another shot. “There’s no
one around,” she gestured to the abandoned buildings and the empty
lot, “see.” “Oh, come on. It’s not like I’m going to take anything but
photos.”
Rider took a deep breath, looked at Aggie and raised one eyebrow,
exasperated. He had a feeling this was going to be a losing argument,
“Aggie… we shouldn’t.” He paused for effect, “trespassing?” He had
another thought and pointed at the building, chuckling, “besides, have
you seen what’s in there? You’re going to need a tetanus shot before
the day is over. At the very least.”
“You think you’re so funny,” Aggie chuckled back at her friend and
punched him good-naturedly on the arm, “I’m not that clumsy, plus,
I’ll be careful.” She flashed her best “pretty please” smile at Rider.
“How about a compromise?” He smiled back at Aggie and gave her
one raised eyebrow again for good measure.
“I’m listening,” she chuckled at his tactics.
“What if we just circle the buildings?” He waved his hand at the
building and the grounds, “there has to be plenty to photograph here on
the outside that would appeal to you, if you give it a chance.”
Aggie stepped back and took in the scene. The outside did have its
own charm, and there were a few rusted and crippled pieces of equip-
ment here and there that she hadn’t noticed before. It wouldn’t be the
same as going in (the shadows in there were amazing), but she could

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Michelle D. Baillargeon

probably still get some neat photos. She glanced at the padlocked door
and the No Trespassing signs again. Maybe he was right.
“OK, a compromise.”
“Thank you.” Rider breathed a sigh of relief.
Aggie smiled at her friend, “this time.” She chuckled as she headed
to grab her camera bag from her SUV.

6
 Three

R ider tagged along beside Aggie as they worked their way

around the first corner of the first building. They decided on
attacking it the same way they covered a flea market, clock-
wise. Compromise in place, Aggie opened herself up to the photo-
graphic possibilities of the building itself and the rusted metal has-
beens that dotted the surrounding grounds. Rider found himself appre-
ciating the faded colors and harsh edges all around him and pulled out
his cell phone and readied the camera app.
The friends were drawn to different sections of the side yard and
started taking photos of the parts and pieces that appealed to them, but
they kept within sight of each other out of unspoken habit. Occasion-
ally, one would call to the other to share their find and they’d join up.
“You might get your dark shadows, after all, Aggie.” Rider
shielded his eyes with one hand as he looked first to the sky and then
to her.
“What do you mean?” She asked the question without looking up,
but smiled to herself thinking that he’d reconsidered their compromise.
“There are some rain clouds moving in,” he pointed across the field
to a dark patch of clouds, “we might have to hustle if you want to stay
dry.”

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Michelle D. Baillargeon

She looked at the sky and nodded her head, “ah, gotcha.” Aggie
took the opening, “you know, I have an idea about how we can stay dry
if it starts to rain.”
Rider laughed, “nice try, Ag.” He stuck his phone in a pocket and
rubbed his arms against a cold breeze that had blown in with the
clouds.
Aggie replaced the lens cover and let her camera dangle from the
strap around her neck. She nodded at Rider as a shiver ran through her.
The day had been nice enough ’til now, but she was starting to get cold.
She weighed the pros and cons of going back for a sweater and made
her decision, “I’ll try to hurry, no need getting cold and wet. Let’s go
‘round back.”
He nodded in agreement and they hustled their way through the
overgrown weeds and long forgotten debris with the cool wind at their
backs.
Aggie rounded the corner first and came to an abrupt stop. She
turned and looked at him with raised eyebrows and her best pretty-
please smile, “Rider, look. It’s a sign.”
Rider made it around the corner only to realize his continued resis-
tance would be futile at this point. There was a gaping hole in the
center of the rear wall of the building. Time, weather, and probably not
a little help from restless teens, had created the entrance Aggie needed.
Plywood and siding had crumbled, rusted, and been pulled away to
form a man-sized opening in the back wall.
He threw his hands up in the air and laughed, “Ok.” He looked at
Aggie who was still smiling, “I can’t argue with that.”
“Yes!” Aggie approached the hole eagerly.
Rider hurried to close the distance between them, “just watch
where you step.”
Aggie laughed, “Ok, Nellie.”
“At least we’ll be out of the wind.”

8
 Four

T opper crouched behind a stack of pallets and took another

pull from his bottle as he waited anxiously for the couple to
enter. He had been watching them surreptitiously from the
moment they climbed out of their vehicle. He dodged a close call at the
window by managing to back further into the shadows just in time to
not be seen as they looked in. Then, he had been relieved to hear the
man talk the woman out of coming in. But, now he was nervous again
at their approach. Would they understand his being here? Should he
hide, or would they be nice to him? Hide rhymes with pride.
Aggie held her camera with one hand and grabbed onto the side of
the hole with another, bracing herself as she entered the building. She
was expecting loose boards with rusty nails sticking up and broken
glass strewn about. She was pleasantly surprised to see a relatively
clear path ahead of her. She took a few steps in and Rider followed.
They paused to orient themselves and to let their eyes adjust to the
darkened building. Light came in only from the windows up front and
the few holes in the roof and the back wall. The approaching rain
clouds helped reduce the available light. Although it was warmer
inside, away from the increasing winds, it was louder. The wind was

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blowing against age weary walls and roof causing them to groan
complain.
“Kind of sets the mood, huh?” Aggie shivered and she put it down
to the breeze coming through the hole in the back wall.
“You could say that,” Rider took a few more steps into the building
and looked around, “are you ready? I’m not so sure we should linger
very long.” The storm outside was building and it concerned him, but
he was also still nervous about trespassing. He didn’t do well with
crossing boundaries.
“Ready, Freddie.” Aggie stepped around him and moved deeper
into the building. She removed the lens cap and put it in her pocket,
anxious to capture this ray of light against that dark shadow.
Rider saw what she saw and could appreciate it, but he held himself
back. He pulled out his phone, but didn’t activate the camera app. He
was torn between keeping an eye on Aggie and capturing a few images
himself. He followed in her footsteps for a few minutes and when he
decided that she wasn’t too distracted to watch where she was going
and stepping, he relaxed. He left her with a “be careful” and started his
own hunt for dark, edgy photos. They roughly followed the same
pattern as before, they worked clockwise and stayed mostly within
sight of each other. Old habits die hard.
“Rider, this is great,” her excitement was audible.
“Let’s just hurry up a little, OK?” Rider was enjoying himself, but
still nervous. Usually, the roles were reversed. Something just felt off,
so he tried to stay aware; listening for strange sounds, looking for
something out of place.
After a few minutes apart, the friends worked their way to the far
wall and managed to join up in their search. Aggie was photographing
a stack of broken pallets and Rider was photographing a rusty piece of
metal resting against the wall.
Aggie paused and looked around, “can you smell that?”
“What?” Rider answered without looking up. “It smells like it’s
going to rain. That?”
“No, not that. There’s something in here.” Aggie took a deep breath

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 Old Man Smell

as she continued to search the rubble around her, “It’s strong. You
don’t smell it?”
“I can smell decaying wood, dust, mold…”
“No,” she laughed. “I can smell that too, but that’s not it. It’s under
that,” Aggie responded.
“Under it? I don’t know what that means,” Rider said, taking a
deep breath. “I got nothing.”
Aggie shook her head and smiled, “I’ve got it now, it’s old man
smell.”

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 Five

A ggie rounded the stack of pallets and Topper froze in place as

she took his photo. He had been watching them enjoy them-
selves and had forgotten that he was supposed to be hiding.
She took him by surprise and he stood there in shock. When she didn’t
scream in surprise, or yell at him, he relaxed and decided these people
were going to be OK after all. He smiled and his spirits lifted; nice
people, nice company. One more sip.
“Old man smell? Now you’ve lost me,” Rider stopped and looked
at Aggie, waiting for her to explain.
Aggie raised the camera to her eye, something intrigued her
about the broken pallets and rusty nails. She snapped some photos as
she spoke and took a deep breath. “Well, first of all, it smells like
love.”
Topper took a step closer to Aggie and smiled, he really liked her.
She reminded him of… well, no one, to be honest. But, more than
anything, right then, he wished she did.
“I don’t understand,” Rider prompted her, but waited patiently.
Aggie lowered the camera and turned on its digital display, the
most recent photo appeared on the small screen. She looked up and
spoke to her friend, “when I was a kid, my family would go on summer

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vacations up north. We would always stop at my grandparents’ house

in Vermont.”
She looked back at her display and made a face. She pushed the
button to look at previous photos, “that’s weird.” She clicked back a
few more photos, “huh.” She turned the camera around and looked at
the front of the lens. “It doesn’t look like there’s anything on it,” Aggie
spoke more to herself than to Rider.
“Ag?”
She presented the display to Rider, “see that foggy spot? It’s in a
few of the pallet photos, but not the earlier ones. Weird, right?”
“Old man smell?” he prompted her again.
“Sorry.” She lowered the camera as she spoke, “my favorite part of
summer vacation was getting to see my Grandfather, we all called him
Poppy. He was always happy and smiling, joking around with us. He
was full of love, and he gave the best bear hugs. And when he hugged
you, you breathed it in. Sweet and sharp. It’s what I thought old men
smelled like. Well some old men, anyway. Because, well - it was
always there, a part of him, his essence. Old man smell, love, and bear
hugs.”
Topper wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, he wished someone
had memories of him like that. His heart swelled at Aggie’s memory.
Pop rhymes with Top.
“I wish I knew what that was,” Aggie was looking at her camera
display again.
“Maybe it’s just a fluke, or some dust,” Rider suggested. “It’s not
on all of them, shake it off.”
Aggie took another deep breath and nodded, “that’s exactly what it
is.” She closed her eyes and breathed in again and held her memories
close for a few more moments. “Weird.”
“So, tell me. What was it? Bengay?”
“No,” she chuckled. Memories of Pop played on a reel in her head.
“You know, when you’re a kid, you just accept some things as they are.
It never occurred to me that he smelled like anything besides Pop.”
Rider nodded and smiled, waiting for her to continue.
“It took me until I was grown to realize that it was something else.

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Michelle D. Baillargeon

That’s a whole other story in itself, and a little embarrassing.” Aggie

looked at her friend and raised her eyebrows, pausing for effect, “turns
out, it was whiskey.”
The answer surprised Rider, and for the moment he was out of
questions.
“Pop smelled like whiskey, and whiskey smells like Pop. That’s not
something a little girl getting a bear hug realizes.” Aggie waved her
hand in the air, “and this smells like love. I can smell love.”
Topper looked down at his bottle as another tear spilled from the
corner of his eye. Pop rhymes with Top.

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 Six

A gust of wind rattled loose barn boards and made the old
building groan again. A few small pieces of trash blew
across the littered floor and the quiet moment between the
friends was interrupted.
“Anyway,” Aggie shrugged and looked around, “I still miss him.
It’s nice to think about him again, though.”
Rider nodded, unsure what to say or do next. A trip down Memory
Lane can be bittersweet.
“It looks like things are picking up outside, let me just take a few
more photos and we can go.”
“OK, good.” They each continued on the path they began before
meeting up at the stack of pallets, Rider headed one direction, Aggie
the other. Each on their own quest for ‘just one more’.
Aggie worked her way to what would have been the far right side
of the building, had she been looking at it from the street. There was an
interesting pile of cardboard boxes, with an interesting combination of
mold build-up and decay partially covering some of the wording on the
boxes. There were old blankets below that, and God knows what below
that. Scattered in front of the pile was a miscellaneous pile of rubbish
and old junk mixed with fallen leaves that had blown in from outside.

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Michelle D. Baillargeon

The wind howled once more and a chill passed through Aggie. Just
one or two more, then I’ll go. She remembered the old machinery she’d
seen looking through the window earlier. She glanced in that direction
and felt a twinge of regret. These photos would just have to do.
Aggie crouched down and photographed different sections of the
pile before her. Time had faded the colors of everything to various
shades of brown, but the shadows falling across it gave it character.
She tried to capture what remained of the light, which fell harsh against
the dark, neglected pile. A fragment of light fell on an old army blanket
jutting out from under the cardboard. A shard of light from a crack in
the roof lit up the warn soles of a pair of shoes. She worked quickly but
carefully, momentarily forgetting about the scent that reminded her so
fondly of her grandfather.
Rider looked up from his quest to take stock of the weather. The
storm outside continued to gain strength, the old building shuddered
against its force. Luckily, it’s not raining yet. He headed towards Aggie,
she needed another nudge. They had to go before it got worse.
Topper was tagging along a step or so behind Aggie. They were
friends now and he was content just to be near her. A loud metallic
crack, lost to Aggie and Rider in the howling wind, sounded from
somewhere above. The strangely familiar sound filled Top with panic,
although he wasn’t sure why. Fear gripped his heart and gave it an
unrelenting squeeze. He reacted instantly and instinctively; dropping
his bottle, he used both hands to give Aggie a hard shove. He
connected with the middle of her back and, in a heartbeat, his new
friend was safe and out of harm’s way.
Aggie called out from the unexpected force and, unable to brace
herself in the crouched position, fell forward. For a second or two she
managed to balance herself against the stack of cardboard with her
forehead. A patch of damp, decaying cardboard held her up as she tried
to balance herself. One arm held her camera safely off to one side, the
other arm tried to provide a counterbalance. In the end, it was the
camera that threw off her balance. Gravity took over and she slid, as
gracefully as she could, to the floor.
Rider, who still had several yards to go before reaching his friend,

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 Old Man Smell

watched her valiant but momentary balancing act, and then her fall.
Great. This is what I was afraid of. He was hurrying towards Aggie
when something just above her caught his eye and he froze in place. A
piece of corrugated metal roofing, broken off in the wind, was gliding
towards her like a giant toy airplane. He watched in stunned silence as
it passed directly over the spot she’d been in and clattered harmlessly
to the ground a few feet away from her.
“Aggie! How’d you do that?” Relieved, Rider was laughing by the
time he reached her side, he closed the distance in a few seconds.
“I’m fine, Rider, thanks for asking.” She laughed, pushed herself
into a sitting position, and cradled her camera in the crook of her arm.
“Do what?”
“Dodge that piece of flying metal,” he pointed behind her, “I didn’t
see it until you were already down.”
Aggie she looked wide-eyed at the piece of roofing and then back
at Rider. “Easy,” she looked him in the eye, “I didn’t dodge it. I was
pushed.”
“Aggie, I watched you fall.” He shook his head, still chuckling, “it
looked like you just tipped over.”
“Rider, it’s not funny.” She was indignant now and held her
ground, “I didn’t tip over or fall, I know the difference. I was pushed.”
Rider pointed behind him, “I was all the way over there.”
“I didn’t say it was you.”
Topper closed his eyes and bowed his head for three full Mississip-
pis, Thank God! I tried to help and she’s safe. Tried rhymes with pride.
He stood a little taller in his worn, secondhand wingtips and congratu-
lated himself with a hearty swallow from his bottle. Pop rhymes
with Top.

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 Seven

A ggie motioned for Rider to help her up, “give me a hand,

please?”
“Wait, don’t get up yet.” The nurse in him waved her
hand away, “did you hurt yourself? Are you seeing stars?”
Aggie sat there as he requested, but she wanted to roll her eyes. She
looked herself over quickly, then she checked out her camera. “No, I’m
Ok. I think we’re both fine.” She reached into her pocket for the lens
cover and placed it back on her camera.
“Good. Hold on,” Rider brushed a damp smudge off his friend’s
forehead and then wiped his hand on a nearby piece of cardboard. He
grimaced but chuckled, “that was gross.” He made her wait for another
few moments until he was done looking her over. When he was sure
she wasn’t hurt, he reached down to help her stand. “You certainly
keep things interesting.”
“Ow! Crap,” Aggie grimaced and stood on one foot, shaking the
other slowly while pointing the toe of her shoe towards the floor.
“What?” Rider kept his hand on her elbow to steady her, “did you
twist it?”
“No.” She shook her head and rolled her eyes at last, “I’ve just got
something in my shoe.”

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 Old Man Smell

“That sounds about right.” He laughed and she joined him.

“Shut up.”
Aggie handed her camera over to her friend so she could empty out
her shoe. She paused about half way through her task, “hey. Shoes.”
“Shoes?”
“Yeah,” she stood up and slid her foot back into her shoe. “I was
just remembering something I saw before I was… went down.” She
smiled at her Rider, choosing her words carefully. That would be an
argument for later.
“You saw shoes?” He looked around at the spot she fell and she
followed his stare. “What about them?”
“I don’t know, I just saw shoes. They looked old.” She reached for
her camera and then placed the strap around her neck, “but there was
also something strange about them. I was just thinking about it when I
was pushed.” Screw it, I was pushed and I’m using that word.
Rider saw the look in her eyes when she said the word ‘pushed’.
He was familiar with that look, rare though it was; translated, it said
“go ahead, try me.” Nope. Instead, he responded to the subject at hand.
“I don’t see any shoes. Where were they?”
They both turned and searched around the spot Aggie had been
crouching in just a few minutes ago. There was cardboard, scrap wood,
and junk littered about. But no shoes.
Aggie stopped looking and thought for a moment. The wind
howled and cold air swirled around them. Goosebumps appeared on
their bare arms and rain drops threatened to fall at any moment. The
weather was getting worse, but leaving would have to wait for a few
more minutes. She picked up the camera and turned on the digital
display, “I know we’ve got to go, but something weird is going on
here.” She held the camera out so they could both see.
The display came to life and the last photograph taken appeared.
Rider moved closer to Aggie and they both stared at it. At first, their
eyes were drawn to a large sheet of cardboard, dark lettering ran down
the length of it, a small wedge of sunlight pointed to the edge of the
cardboard.
Aggie pushed a button, and the image was magnified. She pushed

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another button and brought the corner of the photo to the center. “There
they are,” she tapped the screen and nodded, “I knew it.”
Rider laughed, but kept looking. “I see what you mean. Why are
they stacked like that?”
It might have been a coincidence, it might have been a trick of the
light, or it might have been Aggie’s unconscious mind at work as she
took the photo. The small wedge of light was not pointing to the edge
of the cardboard after all, it was pointing at a pair of shoes. They were
set back, in the dark and under a piece of cardboard, and they were
lying on their side. One stacked on top of the other, with worn soles
facing outward.
“Makes it look like someone’s lying down in there, doesn’t it?”
Rider looked up from the display and stepped over to the stack of
leaning cardboard, “strange, huh?”
Aggie, who was still staring at the photo, nodded her head.

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 Eight

T opper paced back and forth, a few feet behind his new
friends. He took three steps, looked at them, then turned
around and retraced his three steps. He did this a few times,
but it did little to calm his nerves.
He stopped pacing, took a long pull from his bottle, and stared at
Aggie and Rider. He wiped his brow and frowned. They were his new
friends, but they were getting a little too close. A lump formed in his
gut and he said a silent prayer that they wouldn’t disturb his nook.
Please? Please, no. They were getting closer and closer, though. And it
had been hidden so well, too. Near rhymes with fear.
Rider was deep in thought, his attention on the strangely stacked
pair of shoes. Must’ve been teenagers. Odd sort of prank, though. He
smiled as his mind went back to a photo he’d seen on social media
where road workers had stuck an empty pair of boots into the side of a
freshly paved roadway. That must’ve been where they got the idea.
He turned back to face Aggie. She was still staring at the camera
display.
“You know,” she spoke to Rider without looking up, “something is
still off about this picture.”
“Like what?”

21
Michelle D. Baillargeon

She pushed one of the buttons beside the display a few times and
held it out to him, “look.”
“What am I supposed to see?” He looked at the photo and then at
his friend.
Aggie pointed to the edge of the display, “I didn’t notice it at first,
but there’s fog in this picture, too. Like in the ones I took over there.”
She pointed at the stack of pallets. “The lens is clean, it’s not the
camera. I’m positive.”
“Can’t it just be dust particles, or something like that?” Rider
offered.
“Maybe,” Aggie considered the suggestion, “but it just doesn’t look
like dust. Look at the way it curls around the shoes.”
“Well, what do you think it is?”
“I don’t know. It’s just weird.” Aggie looked up at Rider and
smiled, “you know how I am, it’s going to bug me unless I find out
what’s doing that.”
Rider shivered involuntarily, the wind outside was still howling and
now the air felt damp. They were really pushing their luck. But he did
know how she could be, so he nodded, “I know. So, what now?”
Aggie took a step towards Rider, who hadn’t moved. “I couldn’t
see the fog with my bare eyes either time, it only shows up in the
photo.” She shrugged and pointed at the shoes, “and there’s nothing
there now.”
“Let’s move the shoes to a different spot and then take another
picture,” Rider moved even closer to the shoes and bent over, “maybe
it’s a weird reflection or something.” He reached for the top shoe, but
paused as he waited for Aggie’s answer. “How does that sound?”
“That sounds good,” Aggie smiled at her friend’s patience, “let’s
do it.”
“Here goes,” Rider crouched down and grabbed both of the shoes,
lifting one in each hand. When he felt resistance, his mind flashed back
to his idea of a teenagers’ prank. Why would they glue them down? He
tugged until they gave up their hold. The shoes broke free faster than
he expected and the sudden movement threatened to topple him over,

22
 Old Man Smell

much like what Aggie had just been through. But, he was able to catch
his balance and held the shoes out to Aggie, smiling.
Aggie stepped back and gasped, “oh my God.”
“Ag?” Rider stood up holding the shoes, eyebrows raised, “what?”
She pointed to the spot where the shoes had just been.
Rider presented the shoes to Aggie once more and looked at her,
confused, “I’ve got ‘em.”
Aggie’s eyes were fixed on the spot she had pointed out, that hand
now covering her mouth. Rider followed his friend’s stare until he
spotted what had upset her. The shoes he had struggled to get a hold of
fell from his hands, making a soft thud as they landed on the floor.
He could see that the shoes had not been glued to anything after all.
They’d been held down by the feet that had been wearing them. More
accurately, the bones of the feet that had been wearing them. Bones
that were now sticking out of worn pant legs and stained, threadbare
socks. The socks hadn’t quite given up on their task altogether by
coming off with the shoes; instead, they clung to the front half of each
boney foot like a flag at half-mast.
Topper continued to watch his friends. When the time came, he too
followed Aggie’s stare. This new discovery easily distracted him from
his previous worries. He saw the socks and the bones. He watched the
old shoes fall to the floor. A well-worn pair of brown wingtips. Hey,
they have a pair just like mine. He looked down at his own well-trav-
eled shoes, his spirits lifting with along with the bottle to his lips.
Booze rhymes with shoes.

23
 Nine

A ggie, Rider, and Topper stared at the feet in silence. The wind
at their backs made the only sound as it whistled through the
cracks in the walls and roof. It was just pure chance that it
hadn’t started pouring yet.
Rider took a step towards the large cardboard pile in front of them,
“well, it can’t be real. Can it?”
“You tell me,” Aggie replied while backing up a step, “you’re the
nurse.”
One more step brought Rider to the stack, he placed one hand on
the top of the outer-most cardboard panel and hesitated. “Doesn’t it
make sense to you that this would be a prank?”
“What kind of prank?” Aggie shook her head from side to side and
gestured around her, “and who is it being played on?” The question
died on her lips as her mind caught up with the question she just asked,
“us.”
Rider let go of the cardboard and bent over to look at the bones
again more closely. “They don’t look fake.”
“I’d really like them to be fake.” Aggie wrapped her arms around
herself and looked to Rider for confirmation.
Rider held her stare while he thought about the situation. He turned

24
 Old Man Smell

back and grabbed the first cardboard panel with both hands. “We
should find out.”
Aggie hesitated, swallowed on a dry throat, set her camera bag out
of harm’s way and then joined Rider at the stack, “you’re right. I’ll
help.” She reached for the panel he was holding and dragged it to a
spot where she could lay it down.
Topper’s heart sank. He’d been distracted by the wingtips and now
his nook had been found out. Desperation filled his being, “please,
wait!” Topper jumped in front of Aggie to block her path, “stop!” She
brushed right past him. He spun around and reached beyond her to
Rider, “wait!” He grabbed at Rider’s shirt to pull him away but he just
got air. Topper tried again, and again. He got air.
“It’s back,” Aggie paused and closed her eyes for a moment,
breathing deeply.
“What’s back?”
“Old man smell,” she raised her brows at Rider and then reached
for the next piece of cardboard from her friend.
They repeated these steps several times, the scraps were in various
stages of decay and covered in varying amounts of dirt, mold (and
probably mouse droppings, Aggie thought). They worked in silence,
Aggie wishing for a pair of gloves and Rider deciding his prank idea
was losing credibility.
Topper stood aside, his head and his spirits down. The efforts to
protect his space had been futile, the only thing left for him to do was
to watch them peel away layer after layer of his nook.
The further into the stack the friends got, the more randomly placed
they were. The cardboard in this section of the pile looked like any
other pile of junk.
“These look like they were just blown here over time,” Rider
paused to wipe his hands on his shorts.
“They probably were. Why?”
“I don’t know, it’s just weird.” Rider shook his head side to side,
“At first, it looked like there was an order to the way they were stuck
here. Didn’t it? Now, it just…”
Aggie waited for him to finish his thought.

25
Michelle D. Baillargeon

“I guess it doesn’t matter.” Rider shrugged and shook his head

again, turning back to the task at hand.
Finally, they came upon the last piece. It was large and resting
against the far wall, forming a weary lean-to in front of them. Below
that, on the floor, was a layer of cardboard. A mattress of sorts, they
imagined. At one end of the lean-to, a pair of boney feet, half clad in
threadbare socks, sticking out from their shelter.
“Moment of truth.” Rider paused to catch Aggie’s eye, “this looks
like the last one. Are you ready?”
Aggie shook her head, “not really.” She took a deep breath and
shook her hands out at her side. A shiver ran down her spine and she
wrapped her arms around herself once more.
“Aggie,” Rider turned to face her, “I’m not really ready, either.” He
glanced to the back of the building to where they had entered earlier,
and up to the ceiling where a drizzle of rain was beginning to fall
through the openings in the roof. “We just can’t stay very much
longer.”
“No, I know.” Aggie took a step towards him, “I was just thinking
while we were working.”
“And?”
Aggie put her hand out, acknowledging that she felt the drizzle
making its way through the openings in the roof, “I know, I know.
We’ve gotta go. I’ll be quick.” She pointed at the lean-to and the feet.
“It’s probably just the setting, and my mind is probably working over-
time, but if you put together everything that happened in here today,
you can almost only come to one conclusion.”
Rider took in what she said and followed her train of thought, “do
you mean with the foggy spots on your photos?”
“Yes, that and there was the old man smell that kept hanging
around, and my fall…” Aggie looked at Rider to make sure he was
looking at her, “I did not trip. I was pushed. I felt it.”
Top’s attention was back on his new friends once again. He smiled,
raised his bottle to her and took a sip. You’re welcome.
“You’re saying that it’s real, then,” Rider held her stare, “all that
was from…” Rider raised his eyebrows and nodded to the lean-to.

26
 Old Man Smell

“Maybe?” Aggie shrugged, but held her ground. “Exactly. What

else could it be?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t smell anything.”
“I know, but I did. I still do. And, you weren’t the one that was
pushed, either.” She shrugged, “Stranger things have happened, right? I
mean, it’s possible.”
Rider smiled, “well, I guess. You know what that means?”
“What?” Aggie smirked and waited for the inevitable mocking
comment from Rider.
Rider turned to face the lean-to, “whatever, whoever pushed you,
saved you from being hit by that piece of roofing.” He turned back and
locked eyes with Aggie, “you could’ve been hurt really bad. Or killed.”
Topper stood tall beside his new friends. Tried rhymes with pride.
“In that case,” Aggie nodded, her mind was made up, “I guess I
owe it to him to step up.”

27
 Ten

A ggie tucked her dampening hair behind her ears and moved
alongside Rider in front of the last, large piece of cardboard.
They each took a deep breath, in turn, and before they
could talk themselves out of it, removed the last barrier between them-
selves and the possible owner of the wingtips.
They carefully placed the large floppy sheet on top of the others
and turned back slowly. Aggie held her stomach with one hand and
reached out for Rider’s with the other. Topper stood to Aggie’s right,
caught up in the discovery. He waited expectantly to see what would be
uncovered.
“Huh,” Rider squeezed Aggie’s hand once and then let it go.
“I know.” Aggie took half a step backwards, “and I was ready,
too.”
The group stood staring at another piece of corrugated metal,
perhaps shed by the roof by a similar storm long ago. It stretched out
horizontally in front of them, blanketing and concealing what they
sought. Both ends jagged and rusty, the near end bent at a right angle
and the far end not quite long enough to hide those shoeless, fleshless
feet sticking out the other end.

28
 Old Man Smell

“That’s bigger than the piece that almost hit you,” Rider stated
matter-of-factly.
Aggie rubbed her neck as she nodded her response. Her stomach
turned on itself. If someone was under there, what could it have done
to them? She took a deep breath to calm herself. Then another. Old
man smell surrounded her. She closed her eyes and stayed in that
moment as memories of Pop came to her, comforting bear hugs
enveloping her. Comfort washed over her, her stomach settled, her
nerves relaxed. It was a good sign. They were supposed to do this.
Whatever this was.
“OK,” Rider signaled to Aggie, “you ready? Just watch the edges.”
“I’m ready,” Aggie approached the metal sheet and searched for a
clean edge to grab and tried not to roll her eyes at her friend, always
the nurse.
A cool, damp wind passed between them as they removed the piece
of roofing. They set it down gently on top of the discarded pile of card-
board and turned back to their discovery. Rider shivered and Aggie
hugged herself to ward off goosebumps.
Before them on the floor, on top of an army blanket, which was on
top of a long flat piece of cardboard, was a jumbled pile of clothing
and blankets. As seconds passed, the rough shape of a person appeared
out of the jumble. On the near end was a baseball cap, next to that was
a dark green football jersey. On top of the jersey was another army
blanket. It had gotten bunched, which caused the pant legs to pull up.
That explained why the legs and the feet jutted out the far end uncov-
ered. Between the figure and the wall were a few plastic and paper
bags that contained small, unknown items.
“That looks like a rib cage,” Aggie pointed to the shape inside the
green jersey.
“Looks like he just rolled over on his side and went to sleep,” Rider
crouched down near the figure, “a while ago.”
“It is real, huh?” Aggie asked the question she already knew the
answer to.
“Yeah,” Rider leaned over the figure for a better look, “this is defi-

29
Michelle D. Baillargeon

nitely not a prank.” He looked at Aggie, “I think this was someone

named Topper.”
Rhymes with… he didn’t want to see anymore, the rhyme died on
his lips as he turned away.
“Topper?” A chill that did not come from the mist falling around
them ran through her bones and a strange emptiness that hadn’t been
there before settled in. It felt like a silent echo inside of an empty
room.
Aggie inhaled. Something was wrong. Missing. The comforting
scent that had reassured her, surrounded her, was gone now.
“That’s what it says here on the back of the jersey, anyway.” Rider
stood up so he could step around the figure without disturbing
anything. “It looks like old Topper has been hanging out here for a
while.”
“Do you think that could have been what…” Aggie took a breath
and began again, “we have to call somebody.” A tear slid down her
cheek, “it’s so lonely here. What about his family? We can’t leave him
here like this.”
Rider held an arm out to Aggie, “Come here, look.” He was
pointing to a small bag near lying near the body.
Aggie took his hand and stepped closer, she saw a paper bag
wrapped around a something shaped like a bottle, “oh.” She nodded.

30
 Eleven

“
A g, I think that’s probably where your whiskey smell came
from.”
Another tear welled up in Aggie’s eyes and followed
the first one down her cheek. Then a third. She dropped Rider’s hand
and covered her eyes, shaking her head side to side. Finally, she wiped
her eyes and looked up, “no, you don’t understand. Old man smell, it’s
not so much that they smell like whiskey from a bottle. It’s more like
what happens between the person and their whiskey. Over time, it
becomes part of them, their essence. It’s not really the same thing.
Besides, I can’t smell it anymore.”
Rider wanted to argue his point about the empty whiskey bottle. He
wanted it to be the source of the scent that wafted out to her and jogged
her memory. He wanted it to be that simple. But it wasn’t. He hadn’t
smelled anything before, and he couldn’t smell anything now. And, he
was even closer to the bottle than she was. If that was the source, he
should be smelling it now. Rain or no rain.
“We’ve got to go,” she gave her eyes one last swipe and squared
her shoulders, “we’ve got to get help for Topper.”
“Help?” Rider’s eyebrows went up as he swept his arm across the
space just above Topper.

31
Michelle D. Baillargeon

“You know what I mean, we can’t leave him here like this. He
should be resting in pea…” Aggie spun around, the toe of her shoe
caught on a corner of the army blanket and sent the baseball cap spin-
ning like a top towards Rider.
It was a slow spin, but it managed two full revolutions before it
came to a stop. Aggie gasped and her hands flew to cover her mouth,
Rider hopped sideways at the last moment and avoided making
contact. The cap had become one with the dislodged skull and the
friends watched as a merry-go-round of horror spun at their feet.
Cap-jaw-eye sockets-cap-jaw-eye sockets.
“Oh no! Oh no!” Aggie stepped back and hugged herself once
more, this time to calm the tremors rushing through her limbs. Her
heart beat in time with the rain on what remained of the roof and a rock
settled in the pit of her stomach.
Rider stood up straight and caught his breath and his balance.
When the spinning cap stopped, he moved back around to Aggie’s side
of the body and stood by her side in silence.
Aggie turned her back on the body, eyes closed, “I am so sorry.”
Her voice was a shaky whisper.
“I’m sure he knows, Ag.” Rider turned and put an arm around her
shoulder, “it’s OK.”
Aggie cleared her throat and looked her friend in the eye, “Ok, I’m
just going to ask.” She unwrapped her arms and placed both hands on
her stomach. “Do they,” she paused searching for the words, “just
come loose like that?”
“Oh, Aggie. I don’t know,” he ran a hand through his damp hair
and shrugged, “that’s not really in my skill set.”
“It’s just that, well,” she turned back to face Topper’s remains,
scanning him from the green jersey all the way to the feet, each still
half-wearing a sock, “everything else seems to have stayed connected
to itself.”
Rider nudged her with his shoulder, “let’s go to the car and then we
can figure out what to do next.”
Aggie nodded in agreement but held her hand out in front of her. It

32
 Old Man Smell

quickly grew damp from the rain blowing in. “Do you think we should
at least cover him up?”
“I think we’ve done enough. Let’s just go. The faster we get to the
car, the faster we can get him some help.”

33
 Twelve

A ggie pulled the blanket tight around her shoulders. She

watched as Rider did the same. They were no longer trying
to ward off the chill of the rain storm, that had blown over.
The chill they fought came from inside. Yeah, inside the barn. At least
she could still joke about it a little, she thought and then, feeling
slightly ashamed of herself, she added, not that a dead body is some-
thing to joke about.
They were sitting on the bumper of an ambulance that had initially
been dispatched for Topper. After realizing he couldn’t use their brand
of attention, they turned to Aggie. A fresh bandage now covered the
minor scrape on her forehead. She and Rider had both tried to decline
medical attention, but in the end it was easier to give in and let them
treat her. A Band-Aid would have been adequate, maybe even
overkill. But the paramedics had sprung for antiseptic spray, a full
blown square of gauze bandage, and an assessment that she did not
have a concussion. She could have told them that, but they didn’t
want to listen. They’d been dispatched, after all, and they had a job
to do.
“This old town probably hasn’t ever had this much action,” Rider
nodded to the half dozen police and sheriff’s vehicles scattered around

34
 Old Man Smell

the parking lot. Their lights were flashing (every last one of them, he
was pretty sure), but at least they’d finally turned off the sirens.
“I think they sent every cop they have,” Aggie answered automati-
cally, her thoughts were elsewhere. “I hope they’re being careful with
him.”
“I’m sure they are.”
Neither had anything new to offer up in the way of small talk so
they sat in the silence of whirling lights, scattered cruisers, and the
occasional stray officer. Waiting was usually hard in any situation, and
this was no different. They had already given their statements to the
police and were free to leave. Aggie, though, wanted to wait until
they’d gotten Topper safely out of the building.
The sound of gravel crunching footsteps began softly and got
louder as they got closer. The stopped alongside the ambulance. Aggie
bent down and saw two sets of feet and legs just beyond the ambulance
door: one with black shoes and pants, one with tan shoes and khakis.
She sat back up and waited for them to round the corner.
“It should just be another few minutes, Joe. They’re done with the
photographs now, so your guys will be able to bring him out.” A deep,
official sounding voice. Aggie pictured the black shoes and pants,
a cop.
“Did they really need to go through all that?” A softer male voice.
Aggie pictured the tan shoes and khakis. Paramedic.
“Ah, they just want to be sure. Don’t get anything like this around
here, you know. You saw the mark on the back of the skull, right? Plus,
gives ‘em a chance to use all their fancy equipment,” the cop chuckled.
Aggie caught her breath and looked at Rider, she mouthed the word
“mark?” to him. He shrugged and nodded towards the overheard
conversation.
“I saw it, almost didn’t. It was right along the edge of the cap.
Pretty good one, too.”
“Well, that’s probably what all the photos are for, never know what
did that to him. Guess they want to be sure to get it all documented,
just in case. Even if it’s been a while, and it looks like it has.”
“Makes sense. Hey, I’ll catch up to you later,” footsteps sounded on

35
Michelle D. Baillargeon

the gravel, a metal door opened and closed, “I told ‘em I we had a bag
in here. I gotta bring it back or we’ll be here all night.” The footsteps
started again but faded into the distance.
Aggie shrugged off the blanket and hung her head, she bit her lip
and rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. When she looked up at
Rider, he was already looking at her. He nodded his head. They were
both thinking the same thing.
“The roofing,” she whispered. It hung there in the air between them
as she recalled the push and the sound of the metal roofing clanging to
the floor harmlessly beside her as she fell. She’d had a near miss, but
poor Topper hadn’t. No one had been there to push him out of the way.
Rider slid closer to her on the bumper until their shoulders touched.

T
opper stood beside the dark and dusty window but, still wary,
hung back in the shadows. He exhaled the breath he’d been
holding and watched as the last in a long line of vehicles
pulled out of the lot. A cruiser, lights flashing, no siren. Finally.
It seemed like he’d been waiting for ever for the commotion to die
down and for all the people to leave. That was the wrong kind of
company. He thought for sure he was going to get the bum’s rush out of
here. Finding another spot as nice as this one would be tough in such a
small town. Dodged that one! He raised his bottle to his lips and took a
long pull. Cop rhymes with Top.

36
 Also by Michelle D. Baillargeon

The Lights, Unresolved Book 1

The Haunted Promise, Unresolved Book 2

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 About the Author

I grew up in a small town in North Central Massachusetts with three

siblings and, over the years, an assortment of pets.
From early on, I remember listening to my dad tell stories that had
us all laughing, or on the edge of our chairs, or both. I got my love of
reading from my mom, as well as my love for a good mystery and a
quirky detective (Columbo, Poirot, etc.).
In 2006, my best friend and I moved to Arizona, leaving the harsh
winters of New England behind us for the warmth, beauty, and energy
of the Sedona area.
I have always loved creating things, including, but not limited to:
hand bound journals, photography, lamp working (glass beads), and
jewelry.
Writing was always there in the background, too. Mostly in the
form of journaling. I've always appreciated a well written story, quote
or lyric. Their authors are some of my heroes.
One day, I realized I could write a book - just because I wanted to,
and also because it was inside me trying to get out. I was hooked. The
Lights is my first novel. My second, a sequel, is called The Haunted
Promise out in June 2023.
I hope my stories entertain, and maybe even keep the reader on the
edge of their seat.