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A MURDER ON POET’S HILL

AN ELLA DANIELS MYSTERY BOOK 2

J. A. WHITING
Copyright 2019 J.A. Whiting
Cover copyright 2019 Melody Simmons:
www.bookcoverscre8tive.com
Formatting by Signifer Book Design
Proofreading by Donna Rich

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales,
actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from J. A. Whiting.

To hear about new books and book sales, please sign up for my mailing
list at:
www.jawhiting.com

Created with Vellum

For my family with love
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24

Thank you for reading!

Also by J. A. Whiting
About the Author
 1

It was late afternoon when Ella Daniels sat at her desk in her
university office correcting papers while her black cat, Raisin,
snoozed on the sofa by the windows in a circle of golden sunlight.
The office door was open to invite in any students who might have a
question to ask and when she heard a knock on the doorframe, Ella
looked up to see her brother, Ben, standing at the threshold.
“Hey. Am I interrupting?”
Ella gave him a smile. “Not at all. Come on in.”
Raisin stood and stretched before jumping down to greet Ben.
“How’s the best black cat in the whole country?” Ben scratched
the feline behind the ears before taking a seat next to his sister’s
desk. He seemed low energy which was out of character for him and
Ella wondered what might be bothering him.
“What are you doing here at the university?” Ella asked.
“You know I applied to teach one of the fire science courses in
the spring semester?” Ben had worked as a firefighter with the city
of Quinsigamond for the past decade. “Well, the department head
called and asked me to come in to speak with him. He seems like a
good guy. We got along well. I think he’s going to hire me.”
“That’s great.” Ella reached over and hugged Ben. “You’re going
to be super busy when the semester starts.”
“I’m looking forward to teaching actually. It’s one more thing to
add to my resume.” Ben grinned. In addition to being with the fire
department, Ella’s brother was also a blacksmith and he had a great
setup in the barn behind his house where he made all kinds of
things out of iron and steel… tools, door handles, lanterns, hinges,
hooks, gates, railings, light fixtures, and helmets and weapons for
historical reenactors.
Ella said, “I hope it works out and they offer you the position.”
“Thanks. Are we still on for tomorrow evening?”
“Kari called me about an hour ago. She’s working on an
interesting case. She didn’t give me any details, but she told me
she’s looking forward to talking with us about it.”
“Is the ghost dangerous?” Ben asked.
“He’s riled up, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”
Ella and her family were the owners and part-time employees of
Green Hill Investigations, a ghost investigation company. The family
members assisted ghosts with crossing over, coming to terms with
their new forms, and working things out between a ghost inhabiting
a home or a building and the people who currently lived in those
places. Ella likened what they did to being counselors. She, her
siblings, and other family members often met with other spirit
investigators to discuss cases and share ideas. Kari Waltham worked
closer to Boston and the North Shore. She was having some
problems with a ghost and wanted some input from her friends and
colleagues.
“Are you working tonight?” Ella asked.
Ben shook his head. “Ava and I might go see a movie later.” Ben
and Ava had been dating for the past five years and frequently
endured teasing from the family about when they were going to get
married.
Running his hand through his black hair, Ben let out a sigh. “You
remember Joe Bigelow?”
“Yeah.” Ella nodded, and fixed her bluish-green eyes on her
brother. “He’s an historical reenactor. You got to know him after he
asked you to make a sword for him. He owns a restaurant in town,
right?”
“That’s him. He’s been coming by the shop sometimes to talk,
have a beer. I don’t know him very well, but he’s seemed kind of
down lately. I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks so I went by
the restaurant. The hostess told me Joe called in and would be out
due to illness.”
When Ella cocked her head to the side, her long black hair
shifted over her shoulders. “Are you worried about him?”
“I am.” Ben’s eyes held Ella’s gaze. “I don’t know why. I just have
a funny feeling about it.”
As a jolt of electricity raced through Ella’s body, Raisin let out a
rumbling growl.
“Is Joe married?”
“Divorced.”
“Does he live alone?”
“I’m pretty sure he does. I don’t think he has a girlfriend right
now.”
“Did you text him? Call him?”
Ben nodded. “He doesn’t answer.”
Ella tried to be nonchalant about it. “He might have the flu. It’s
going around. Lots of people are out in different departments.”
“Yeah. That’s probably it.”
Ella studied her brother’s face. “Do you want to go by Joe’s
house?”
“I’d like to, yeah.” Ben hesitated, but then said, “Will you come
with me? When will you be done here?”
“I can be done now.” Ella shut down her laptop, placed some
student papers into a folder, and slipped it into her briefcase. “Have
you been to Joe’s house before?”
“A few times. It’s a nice place over on Poet’s Hill.”
Putting on her jacket, Ella glanced over at her brother. “Should
we ask Livvy to meet us there?” At thirty-five, Livvy was the oldest
of the Daniels siblings. She owned a coffee shop and gift store in
town, was happily married, and had a four-year-old son.
“I don’t want to bother her. She’s probably going to pick up Jack
soon and then head home. My worries are most likely nothing at all.
I’d just like to see if Joe needs anything.”
Despite the heaviness she was feeling, Ella put on a reassuring
smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”
 She, Ben, and Raisin left the office and headed out to the parking
lot.
“Want to ride with me?” Ben asked. “I can drop you back here to
get your car when we’re done.”
The threesome got into Ben’s vehicle and made the short drive to
Poet’s hill, a pretty, affluent neighborhood of Quinsigamond
consisting of tree-lined streets, older, well-maintained homes, a park,
and a central common with a few shops clustered around it.
“Do you know much about Joe?” Ella asked.
“Not a whole lot. He grew up here in the city, owns a few
restaurants, owns some houses he rents out along with a couple of
office buildings.”
“He must do very well,” Ella noted.
“He’s a regular guy though, down-to-earth, easy-going. He’s
close to my age, maybe thirty-five, he was married for about five
years, no kids. He’s big into historical reenacting.”
“What time period?”
“Revolutionary War,” Ben said as he turned the car down a quiet
lane. The sun was setting and long shadows covered the street.
In the backseat, Raisin growled causing Ella and Ben to exchange
looks.
“What’s up, Raisin?” Ella asked.
The black cat let out another low growl.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Ben admitted. “Here’s Joe’s
house.”
A huge, sprawling Colonial stood back from the road on a well-
landscaped lot of three-quarters of an acre. A tall oak tree stood at
the front of the home. There was a red truck parked in front of the
carriage house to the right of the home.
“This is beautiful.” Ella admired the fine house. “Is that Joe’s
truck?”
“Yeah, it is so he must be home.”
Ella opened the back door of the car to let Raisin out. The cat
stood warily eyeing the Colonial.
“I’m going to text Joe before we go to the door,” Ben told his
sister. He waited for a response, and when one wasn’t forthcoming,
he took in a deep breath. “I hope he isn’t napping. I don’t want to
wake him if he’s sick.”
Lamplights placed near the driveway and along the brick
walkways lit up the darkness as the siblings walked to the front door
where Ben rang the bell. Raisin prowled near the edge of the flower
beds that were full of yellow and red mums.
“Joe keeps the place looking really nice,” Ella pointed out.
Ben pressed on the doorbell again, but no one came to see who
was ringing. He turned to his sister. “Do you sense anything?”
Ella admitted, “I’ve felt uneasy since you started talking about
Joe. You must feel the same way since you wanted to come out and
check on him.”
Ben shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think something’s wrong.”
Raisin hissed from the bottom of the granite steps.
“Raisin seems to agree,” Ben said. “Let’s go around back.”
When they reached the rear of the home, Ben rang at the
backdoor and got the same results. He looked over to the carriage
house. “Why don’t we check Joe’s truck?”
Ben used the flashlight on his phone to light up the interior of the
vehicle. “Nothing inside.”
“Joe could have gone away for a few days,” Ella suggested.
“Maybe he’s out of town with a friend.”
“But Joe told his restaurant workers that he was sick and staying
home.”
“Was he fibbing for some reason?” Ella asked before noticing
Raisin near the door to the carriage house and headed over to
where she was standing under the light of the overhead lantern.
“What are you doing, Cutie Cat?”
The fur on the feline’s back was ruffled up and she had her eyes
glued to the door.
“Ben,” Ella’s voice seemed to tremble a little. “This door is slightly
ajar.”
Hurrying to his sister’s side, Ben could see the door was open.
“I’ll take a look inside.” He put his hand on the door handle and
pulled it wider, and using his flashlight, shined it inside the first floor
of the carriage house.
 When Ben screamed, his sister rushed forward.
Ben wheeled around, placing his hand on Ella’s arm to keep her
from advancing. His words caught in his throat. “Don’t go in there.
Don’t look inside.”
Ben’s face was deathly pale. His breathing was fast and shallow.
“What is it?” Ella held her brother’s arms. “What did you see?”
Ben was nearly hyperventilating.
“Do you need to sit down?” Ella’s heart raced. “Sit on the ground.
Should I call the police?”
Ben coughed several times and he wiped the back of his hand
over his forehead. “Joe. It’s Joe.”
Ella took a quick look at the carriage house door. “Does he need
help?”
Shaking his head, Ben’s expression was a mix of horror and
disbelief. “Joe … he’s … he’s dead. There’s a noose, Ella. Joe’s
hanging from one of the beams.”
 2

Ella made the emergency call and the police showed up within
fifteen minutes, and she and her brother were interviewed by
officers and a Quinsigamond detective.
“Is Detective Damon back to work yet?” Ella asked the man when
his questioning was coming to a close.
“Jonas is working two days a week doing desk work. The docs
won’t let him in the field yet.” The detective eyed Ella and
recognition passed over his face. “You’re the one who saved Jonas,
aren’t you?”
Ella shook her head. “I didn’t save him. I’m just the one who
found him.”
“Same thing,” the detective told her.
Detective Jonas Damon had been investigating the murder of a
young chef and he’d crossed paths with Ella and her sister who were
trying to help the ghost. Initially, Jonas was not receptive to the idea
of spirits, but over the course of the investigation, he became more
open-minded. Ella suspected something was wrong when Jonas
didn’t answer her texts, and she and Raisin found the man in a
lawyer’s office stabbed, unconscious, and bleeding.
Ella, Raisin, and Ben stood at the end of the dark driveway
watching the crime scene professionals process the scene.
Ella put her hand on her brother’s arm. “How are you doing?”
 Ben’s shoulders drooped. “I’m okay. It was a shock finding Joe in
the carriage house, but being a firefighter, I have to admit I’ve seen
worse … unfortunately.”
“You knew something was wrong.”
The medical examiner’s car pulled into the driveway and parked
near the carriage house.
Ben nodded, his eyes pinned on the emergency workers. “I’ve
felt off for days. I didn’t connect my feelings to concern for Joe until
last night. I realized Joe hadn’t been by recently. He really enjoyed
watching me in the blacksmith shop. He asked a ton of questions. I
showed him how to make a simple candleholder.”
Holding a flashlight, an athletic young woman with shoulder-
length, straight, black hair hurried up the sidewalk to Ben and Ella.
“Here you are. Are you okay?” Livvy Daniels Smith zipped up her
jacket and looked at her brother and sister with a worried
expression.
“We’re okay, just very rattled,” Ella said.
“And the Cutie Cat?” Livvy bent down to scratch Raisin’s cheeks.
“Is she okay, too?”
“She’s better than we are,” Ben pointed out. “Raisin knew
something was wrong before we did. I’ve felt concern for Joe since
yesterday, but I’ve been blowing it off as needless worry.”
“I guess it wasn’t needless.” Livvy took a look around at the
people hurrying about the carriage house. “Did you happen to
overhear any of the officers? Do you know how long Joe has been
dead?”
“We don’t know,” Ben explained. “The coroner just arrived. From
my quick look at him, I would guess he hasn’t been gone very long.”
“How well did you know him?” Livvy questioned.
“Not well. Sometimes, he’d come by the shop and watch me
work. He was interested in blacksmithing. He did seem down the last
time I saw him.”
“Did he say why?”
“He didn’t, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t know Joe well enough to ask
him personal questions like that.”
“Are you picking up on anything?” Ella asked her sister.
 Livvy took a deep breath and slowly moved her eyes around the
shadow-covered grounds of Joe’s property. She knelt down and
when she placed her palm on the driveway, her eyes flicked up,
gazed at the front door and then focused like lasers on the carriage
house. “Did you hear any of the personnel say the word suicide?”
Ben stared at his sister.
“We haven’t overheard anything,” Ella told Livvy before taking
another glance at the carriage house. “Oh.”
“Oh, what?” Ben questioned.
“Is Joe’s spirit lurking around here?” Livvy asked.
“Not yet,” Ella said. “But I think we should come back tomorrow.”
Raisin trilled.
“Good idea,” Livvy agreed.
Running his hand over his hair, Ben asked, “What are you two
thinking?”
Livvy looked down at Raisin for a second, and then she made eye
contact with her brother. “I know it seems like he did, but Joe
Bigelow didn’t kill himself.”

Eating chicken pot pie, Ben, Ella, and Aunt Jin gathered around
Livvy’s dining table in front of the fire in the huge hearth of her
antique home located two blocks from Ella’s house. Raisin snoozed
in a comfy chair by the fireplace.
Sixty-five years old with short blond hair and blue eyes, Aunt Jin
was a medical doctor and Ph.D. who studied and researched
learning disabilities at the same university-medical complex where
Ella worked as a professor.
“Mike took Jack to a bowling event sponsored by Jack’s
preschool,” Livvy told the group.
Even though Jack could see ghosts and listened to his family
discuss ghost investigations, they preferred not to talk about crimes
in front of the little boy.
“Liam is going to come by later for dessert,” Ella told the family.
 Liam Turner was a freelance journalist who had recently done a
feature story on the Green Hill ghost investigators and had become
friendly with the family. He enjoyed the central Massachusetts city
and its neighborhoods so much that he’d given up his Boston
apartment and had moved into a place in Green Hill just a few
weeks ago.
“Tell me what happened at the man’s home this evening,” Jin
said. “What did you see? What did you sense? And tell me why you
decided to go out there?”
Ben explained his association with Joe Bigelow and his feelings
that something wasn’t right with the man. “My concerns centered
around the idea Joe needed help, that maybe he was ill. He lived
alone. I sure didn’t think we were going to find him dead.”
Ella reported her feelings of doom and dread when she and Ben
arrived at Joe’s home. “When I spotted Raisin sniffing at the slightly
opened door to the carriage house, I knew it wasn’t going to be
good.” She paused for a moment and then went on. “Ben went
inside, saw Joe’s body, and hurried back out. I called the police. We
were interviewed by a couple of officers and a detective.”
“Not Jonas Damon?” Jin asked.
With a shake of her head, Ella said, “Jonas isn’t well enough to
be working full time, but he’s back working at the station doing
paperwork two days a week.” Ella took a bite of her chicken pie. “I
called Livvy and she came out to Joe’s house to meet us.”
“And what did you pick up on?” Jin asked her niece.
Livvy set her water glass on the table. “Joe didn’t commit
suicide.”
Jin’s eyes widened as her eyebrows raised. “The man was
murdered?”
“That’s what I sensed when I was there. I felt that someone
drove up the driveway, and the person had ill-intentions. I’m not
sure when it happened, but it wasn’t that long ago, maybe
yesterday. It wasn’t yet dark when the person paid the visit to the
house.” Livvy shrugged. “That’s all I could feel riding on the air.”
“Well done,” Jin praised her. “Could you tell if the attack was
random or not?”
 “It was a targeted attack,” Livvy told them.
“The man’s spirit wasn’t lingering?” Jin asked.
“We didn’t see or sense him,” Ella told her aunt. “We want to pay
a visit to the house tomorrow though in case Joe hasn’t crossed over
yet.”
Jin nodded her approval. “You said Joe was a Revolutionary War
reenactor. Where did the reenactments take place?”
“All over the state,” Ben said.
“And the man owned restaurants, rental houses, and office
buildings here in the city?” Jin asked.
“He did. Joe did well for himself,” Ben said.
Jin lifted her napkin to her lips. “It’s clear that someone wasn’t
happy with the man. A disgruntled employee? An angry tenant? A
jealous competitor? An unhappy business partner? A jilted lover? You
told me Joe was divorced. Did his ex-wife live nearby?”
“I don’t know,” Ben shrugged. “He didn’t talk much about her.”
“How about a partner? Was he seeing anyone? Had he recently
broken up with someone?” Ella asked her brother.
“Like I said, I didn’t know much about Joe. We’d talked sports,
reenacting, blacksmithing, our careers. We didn’t get into a lot of
personal stuff. I don’t remember Joe ever saying anything about a
girlfriend or a partner.”
“If the man’s ghost shows up and requests our help, we’ll get
involved,” Jin told them. “Otherwise, the investigation will be left to
the police.”
As the three siblings nodded, the doorbell rang and Ella hurried
to the door.
Livvy chuckled and whispered to Ben and Jin, “Do you think Ella
is eager about Liam coming over for dessert?”
Raisin lifted her head from her cozy spot in the chair by the
hearth and meowed.
“Hi, all.” Thirty-year old Liam was six feet tall, athletic, and had
brown hair and brown eyes. Raisin jumped down from the chair to
greet the man and received some patting behind her ears. “Hi there,
best cat.” When Liam straightened, he said, “Sure smells good in
here.”
 “Have you had dinner?” Livvy asked him. “There’s plenty of pot
pie left.”
“Thanks, but I did eat. I’m looking forward to your Boston cream
pie though.”
“We’ll clear the dinner dishes away and bring out the dessert.”
Once they were settled with coffee, tea, and pie, Liam asked
about their days and got an unexpected earful of information.
The young man’s face held an expression of shock. “I didn’t think
I’d be hearing about a murder, and so soon after Leo was killed at
the inn. It’s only been a month since that happened. Are you going
to investigate?”
“Only if Joe Bigelow’s spirit is seen,” Ella explained. “The violence
of his death may impact his ability to cross. We’ll check tomorrow to
see if his spirit is lingering.”
“That makes sense.” From shadowing the family members for his
article on ghosts and ghost investigations, Liam had learned a few
things about spirits and he’d found it all fascinating. He had the idea
of turning his article into a book and continued to go with Ella, Livvy,
and Ben when there was an issue with a ghost. “Will we still be
going to see the Boston area ghost investigator tomorrow evening?”
“We will,” Livvy said. “We’re meeting her in Lexington.”
Ella made eye contact with Liam. “It might prove to be a very
interesting meeting.”
Liam swallowed hard as a look of worry passed over his face.
 3

The late afternoon showed a sliver of the moon shining in the inky
November sky. A cold breeze had come up and the air felt raw and
damp as if some snow might be in the forecast. The bare limbs of
the oak tree in the front yard looked menacing with the branches
stretched out looking as if they might grab you when you passed by.
When the sisters drove by the house, a few of the investigators
were milling about outside so Ella and Livvy decided to park down by
the Common and walk the few blocks back to Joe’s house. A police
officer was stationed at the end of Joe’s driveway to keep people
from driving up, parking, and gawking.
“Liam walked you home from my house last night,” Livvy said.
“Did you invite him in?”
Ella rolled her eyes at her matchmaking sister. “No, I didn’t. I had
a bunch of papers to grade, and even though I didn’t know the
deceased man, I was worn out and upset about what happened to
Joe Bigelow. I just wanted to sit by the fire, do my work, and go to
bed early.”
“Yeah, I understand. The whole mess went round and round in
my head all night. I barely slept.” Livvy gave her sister a gentle poke
on the arm. “If you invited Liam in, he might have been able to
comfort you.”
“Oh, stop, will you? I like Liam. He’s kind and smart. We’ve gone
hiking and we’ve had dinners together. We’re friends. I enjoy his
company. Let’s leave it at that for now.”
“Being friends can turn into something more,” Livvy pointed out.
“I’m not in a hurry for anything more,” Ella explained. “So don’t
push.”
“You’re thirty already. You’ll be an old maid soon.”
Ella groaned. “Then I’ll be an old maid.”
Raisin let out a hiss and flicked her tail.
Confused, Livvy eyed the feline. “Is the cutie cat siding with me
or you?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
As they approached Joe’s house, the big Colonial looked lonely
and forlorn in the darkness. A few of the windows were lit up from
the inside and the sisters and Raisin could see silhouettes of people
walking back and forth.
The sisters stood on the other side of the road looking at the
house.
“What in the world happened here?” Ella asked. “Who could have
been so angry at Joe that they did something so terrible to him?”
“And over what?” Livvy’s face clouded. “Couldn’t the killer just
shoot or stab him and get it over with quickly? He had to hang him
from his own carriage house rafters?” She shivered involuntarily at
the thought. “How would someone even do that?”
Ella gave her sister a look.
“I’m asking because it’s important to figure out. Joe would have
fought back. How would the killer get Joe into the carriage house?”
“That’s a good point. Drug him?”
“Or maybe there were two attackers?” Livvy proposed. “Or
maybe Joe was already dead before they hanged him. The hanging
might have been a statement the killer was making.”
“What sort of statement would that be?” Ella asked.
“I have no idea. I’m just shooting out ideas.” Livvy blew on her
freezing hands and then rubbed them together. She looked at her
watch. “Do you think Joe crossed over? How long should we wait to
see if he shows up? We have to get to Lexington to meet Kari.”
“Let’s give him a little more time. He didn’t know us. Maybe he’s
being cautious.”
 Livvy frowned. “The time for caution is past.”
“Are you getting any sense of what happened here?” Ella asked.
“Nothing more than what I felt yesterday.”
A dark SUV pulled up and parked next to the curb. A man got out
and started up the driveway.
Ella recognized him. “Jonas,” she called.
The man turned and glanced to the other side of the street as
Ella, Livvy, and Raisin hurried across.
“Jonas,” Ella smiled. “How are you? You look like you’re doing
well.”
Detective Jonas Damon stepped forward and gave Ella a long
hug. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you properly. When you
came to see me in the hospital, I was pretty drugged up. Thank you
for what you did. Thank you for saving my life.”
Ella smiled shyly, feeling embarrassed by the detective’s kind
words. “I’m just glad I found you in time.”
Jonas shook hands with Livvy. “It’s nice to see you again. How’s
that little boy of yours?”
“He’s doing fine. Are you feeling well?”
Jonas shrugged. “I’m getting there. Some days are better than
others.” The detective leaned down to pat Raisin. “And hello to you,
too, Raisin. I heard you had a hand, or should I say a paw, in saving
me.”
Raisin trilled and rubbed up against Jonas’s legs.
“Are you working this case?” Ella gestured to the Colonial.
“Unofficially. I’m not allowed to actively investigate yet, but the
case is unusual and I wanted to come by to see how the preliminary
work was going.”
“I’m sure they could use your help,” Ella smiled.
Jonas’s expression changed suddenly. “Why are you here?”
“Our brother, Ben, knew Joe Bigelow,” Ella explained. “Ben was
concerned about him so he and I came out late yesterday afternoon
to see if he was okay. Ben heard that Joe had been feeling sick. We
rang the bell, walked around the house, and noticed the carriage
house door was ajar. Ben went in and….” Ella’s voice trailed off.
Jonas’s eyebrows raised. “You’re the ones who found the body?”
 “Ben did. I didn’t go inside.”
Livvy told the detective, “I wasn’t with them until later.”
“How is it that you’ve been at the scene of two unexpected
deaths within a month of each event?” Jonas asked, aghast.
“Just lucky?” Livvy deadpanned.
“We’ve been in the wrong place, at the wrong time.” Ella
shrugged. “It isn’t exactly how I like to spend my free time.”
“What are the odds?” Jonas glanced over his shoulder, and then
stepped closer to the sisters. “Are you here because of a ghost?”
“Possibly,” Ella told him.
“Joe Bigelow?” Jonas voice was almost a whisper.
Livvy shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Did Joe not cross over? Or did he stay on this side because of
the violent death he experienced?” Jonas looked from Ella to Livvy.
“We aren’t sure yet about any of it,” Ella said. “We came by to
see if Joe might appear to us. He might need some help.”
Jonas’s head turned from side to side examining the dark
property. “You haven’t seen him yet?”
“Not yet. Maybe he crossed and all is well for him now.”
“You think so?” Jonas asked. “Not all violent deaths result in a
spirit not crossing?”
“No,” Livvy said. “Some cross no matter what the circumstances
were.”
“Good then.” Jonas’s head bobbed up and down.
Ella gave the detective a smile. “You remembered some of the
things we talked about when you visited our office.”
“Yeah.” Jonas rubbed at his face. “All that information, ghosts,
crossing, not crossing over, it kept me up a couple of nights. I
couldn’t shut off my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s all so
… unbelievable.”
Ella nodded, and then asked, “Do you know if Joe was dead
before he was hanged?”
The quick change of topic momentarily threw the detective off.
“Before he was hanged?” Jonas tilted his head in question. “He
hanged himself, so I assume he was alive when he did it.”
“Are you sure he committed suicide?” Livvy asked.
 Jonas’s mouth opened and then quickly closed. “What are you
getting at?”
“We think Joe was murdered,” Ella told him.
“Murdered? I haven’t heard this theory yet.”
“No one discussed it back at the station?” Livvy asked.
“I was in Cambridge today. I haven’t heard much of anything,”
Jonas said.
“Well,” Livvy started. “Joe didn’t kill himself. I’m sure of that.”
“How can you know this?” Jonas moved his hand around. “Did
you get a mysterious message on the air?”
“As a matter of fact, I did feel something on the air.”
Jonas’s mouth slammed shut.
Livvy’s voice was forceful. “The man was killed. It’s a fact.
Someone hung him in the carriage house. But we were wondering if
Joe was dead prior to the noose being put around his neck.”
“I don’t know. I need to speak with some of the investigators.”
Jonas looked flustered. “I guess I’ll go inside and talk to them.” The
detective took a few backwards steps.
“I’m glad you’re doing so well,” Ella smiled. “You’ll be as good as
new soon.”
“Thank you again.” Jonas nodded to the sisters and to the cat,
and then he wheeled around and strode up to the house.
“We freaked him out.” Livvy watched him go.
“Yeah, well, that’s par for the course.” Ella checked the time on
her phone. “We should probably head home. Liam is going to meet
us at my house and drive to Lexington with us.” She took a quick
look around the yard, and then turned to leave, but stopped short.
Ella slowly turned back to the front of the house. “He’s here.”
“What? Joe? He’s here? Where?”
“By the front steps. He’s looking over at us.”
Raisin meowed.
Ella gestured to the ghost that he should come closer.
Joe moved a little towards the sisters, then halted, then started
up again. He easily floated over the lawn.
Stopping at the edge of the opposite sidewalk, the ghost’s face
showed fear and anxiety.
 “The police won’t allow us to be on the property.” Ella spoke in a
soft voice. “We’re Ben’s sisters, Joe. We can see you. Do you
understand that you died?”
Joe’s face crumpled and his shoulders shook.
Raisin ran across the street and trilled at the spirit.
“You’ll be okay. It takes time to become accustomed to the
change. Would you like to cross over?”
Joe shook his head hard. He looked back at his house and his
body began to tremble.
“You can stay at the house. It’s okay to do that. The investigators
will leave soon. Just ignore them. Rest. You don’t need to be afraid.
We’ll help you.”
Joe looked into Ella’s eyes.
“Do you want us to stay?” she asked.
Joe gave a slight shake of his head.
“You know where Ben lives. If you need help, go to him. He
understands,” Livvy said.
Ella’s heart ached for the ghost and she had to blink back her
tears. “We’ll come back tomorrow night. You’re not alone, Joe. We’re
here for you.”
 4

Kari Waltham was a self-employed occupational therapist working

near the towns of Concord, Lexington, and Acton outside of Boston.
She was also a ghost investigator in that area as well as on the
North Shore. At thirty-three years old, Kari had shoulder-length
brown hair, brown eyes, and a kind and gentle demeanor.
Ella, Livvy, Liam, and Raisin met her at her office.
“I’m so glad you came.” Kari patted the cat and then invited
everyone to take a seat around the conference table. After a few
minutes of discussion about the murder on Poet’s Hill and Ella and
Livvy’s sighting of the victim’s ghost, they turned their attention to
Kari’s problem.
“After doing some research, I’ve pieced together that my spirit is
a soldier from the Revolutionary War. I believe his name was Henry
and he lived in Lexington. He died during the Battle of Lexington and
Concord,” Kari shared what she’d learned.
“What’s going on with him? Why is there an issue?” Ella
questioned.
Kari sighed. “He’s causing trouble around the historic sites and at
some homes near the battle road. Unlike most spirits, he doesn’t
stay in one place. He moves around Minuteman Park causing
trouble. He’s been seen by some tourists who were frightened by his
antics. They complained to the park rangers and the management
that the reenactor was too real.” Kari couldn’t help but smile. “They
had no idea how unreal Henry was.”
“What does Henry do?” Liam questioned with a hesitant tone.
“He behaves in a threatening manner towards the tourists, he
has caused some damage to the Battle Road, to the Minuteman
statue in Concord, the old North Bridge, some of the historic homes
and the restored tavern on the Battle Road. Sometimes, he can be
heard wailing in the woods. I’ve heard him. It’s a chilling sound.”
“Are you able to communicate with him?” Livvy asked.
“A little. When I ask a question, he’ll sometimes nod, shake his
head, or gesture. He doesn’t say anything to me.”
“Have you tried the flashlights for yes-no questions?” Ella asked.
“I tried. He walks away from them.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About a month,” Kari told them.
Ella asked, “Have you been able to pick up any auditory or visual
recordings?”
“I’ve tried to capture some sounds or images, but I haven’t had
any luck. It makes me think Henry shies away from any modern
devices.”
“That’s interesting.” Livvy wrote some notes in a small notebook.
“It’s one of the reasons I decided to call you in,” Kari said. “Since
Ella can often hear or see more than the rest of us can, I wanted to
reach out.” Kari looked at Ella. “You don’t need the equipment to
pick up things about the spirit. I thought you might have better luck
gathering information and communicating with him.”
“I’ll try.” Raisin sat in Ella’s lap and the young woman ran her
hand over the cat’s soft fur. “Has the ghost been aggressive towards
you?”
Kari gave a shrug. “Not really. He might throw something now
and then, but he doesn’t really seem to want to hit me.”
“Does Henry hang out more often in one particular place?” Livvy
questioned. “Or do you have to travel around to make contact with
him?”
“He’s often near the river that runs through the woods. I find him
there most of the time.” Kari looked at the three people sitting
around the table with her. “Would you like to go and meet him
now?”
“No time like the present.” Livvy stood and the small group
followed her from the office and out to Kari’s SUV.
Traveling through the winding roads of Lexington, they passed
stately antique homes and beautiful stretches of woods before Kari
turned the vehicle onto a bumpy dirt lane. Moving slowly through
the dark forest away from the town roads, the headlights were the
only source of light cutting between the trees.
After two miles of jostling over the wooded path, Kari pulled to
the side and parked. “Here we are. We have to walk down this trail
to the river.”
Ella removed the metal case from the SUV and Liam offered to
carry it. Everyone switched on their flashlights and headed down the
trail deeper into the woods.
Thankfully, because it was November, there were no mosquitoes
or other bugs to bother them as they trudged carefully along the
path. In a few minutes, the sound of water could be heard and a
little further along, they stopped by a small, dark river.
“This is where Henry often shows up,” Kari told them.
Raisin moved along the edge of the water sniffing the moist
ground.
“Do you think he’ll show up?” Liam whispered to Ella.
“I have a feeling he will, but it’s only a guess.”
The foursome walked around a little trying to stay warm on the
cold evening. Livvy pulled her knitted hat down around her face and
Ella took a scarf from her pocket and wound it around her neck.
“I should have brought a thermos of hot chocolate,” Livvy
lamented.
As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could make out
more of the river and its banks.
“It’s very pretty here,” Ella noted. “So peaceful.”
“It must be why Henry likes it,” Livvy pointed out.
The four humans chatted for a while until they heard Raisin
meowing and saw her staring off down the narrow trail that ran by
the water.
 “He’s here,” Ella said. “I can see the glow of his atoms.”
The others saw nothing as Ella stepped forward.
“Hello, Henry. I’m Ella Daniels. I’m here with my sister, Livvy, and
a friend, Liam. That’s our cat, Raisin. She can see you, too. Kari
asked us to come and meet you.”
Henry’s atoms glowed more brightly, but his form did not take
shape.
“Kari tells us that you fought in the Revolutionary War,” Ella said
gently. “You were in the early battle that happened right around
here.”
“In my peripheral vision, I can see the glow of his particles,” Kari
whispered.
Sometimes, the best way to see a spirit was by looking with
peripheral vision. Some ghosts would not allow themselves to be
seen straight on.
“Why don’t we try the flashlights,” Livvy suggested and she and
Liam opened the metal case and removed three flashlights.
Ella and Kari set them up on the ground, and Ella explained what
the ghost could do to communicate. “I’ll ask a question and if you’d
like to respond, you can light up the flashlight on the left for yes and
the right one for no. If you’re unsure, you can light the center
flashlight.”
Ella began. “Are we correct in assuming your name is Henry?”
The flashlights stayed dark.
“Did you live during the Revolutionary War?”
Nothing.
Ella turned around suddenly and walked over to the metal case.
“Let’s use candles.” She removed three white candles and, keeping
one for herself, she handed one to Kari and one to Livvy. “Let’s stand
in a straight line next to each other.”
When the three women were shoulder-to-shoulder, Ella spoke to
the ghost and asked again, “Is your name Henry?”
The candle on the left sputtered and lit up to indicate yes.
“Oh, look at that.” A broad smile crossed Kari’s face. “Brilliant
idea to use the candles. Henry prefers something he’s familiar with.”
“Did you live in Lexington?”
 Yes.
“Did you fight the British in Concord and Lexington?”
Yes.
“Did you fight in other battles on other days?”
No.
Ella and Livvy shared a look.
“Did you die on the first day of fighting?”
Yes.
A terrible, haunting wail filled the air as if it was coming from all
sides of the forest.
“We’re sorry to hear that.” Ella had to raise her voice to be heard
over the sorrowful cries. “We’d like to help you.”
While the wailing continued, Raisin walked forward along the
river and when she sat down, she looked up at the glowing atoms in
front of her.
Slowly, slowly, the crying lessened in intensity until only soft
whimpering sounds could be heard.
Livvy leaned closer to her sister. “It seems Henry likes Raisin.”
Although the humans couldn’t see Henry’s form, Raisin appeared
to be rubbing against the man’s legs. In less than a minute, the
whimpering ceased.
“Can I ask you a few more questions, Henry?” Ella spoke to the
ghost.
The candle on the left lit up. Yes. The flame went out.
“Sometimes, spirits decide not to cross right after they pass away
and the white ball of light that shows the way to the other side
disappears. It can be hard to locate it again, but we can help you
find it. Are you ready to cross now, Henry?”
The candle on the right lit up. No.
“You want to stay here a little longer?” Ella asked.
Yes.
“That’s okay. It’s fine for you to stay. There’s something we’d like
to ask you to do though. Some of the tourists don’t understand and
become frightened when they see you. Would you be able to keep
out of their view and try not to scare them?”
 The candles stayed unlit for thirty seconds when suddenly the
middle one lit up and quickly went out.
“That’s a maybe? Okay. Thank you for that. We’d appreciate it,”
Livvy said.
“Is there something you need? Is there something we can help
you with?” Ella asked.
Again, it took a while for a reply, but when it came, the left
candle lit up.
“Yes, there’s something we can help you with.” Ella smiled. “Can
you speak to us, Henry?”
No.
“Okay. It will take us a little longer to figure out what we can do
to help, but we’ll find the answer eventually. It will take patience
from you and us, but I promise we’ll figure it out.”
Suddenly, the visible atoms that could be seen of Henry flared
bright and began to spin faster and faster until they sparked and
disappeared.
“I guess that’s all for tonight,” Ella said as she watched the last
particle flash and go out.
“That was a heck of a lot more than what I’ve been able to get
from him.” Kari sounded relieved. “It’s a coincidence, huh, that
Henry is from Revolutionary times and your most recent ghost, Joe,
was a Revolutionary reenactor?”
Ella, Livvy, and Liam exchanged looks of unease as Raisin let out
a long, loud howl.
 5

All the way home from Lexington, Ella and Livvy, with Liam piping in
from time to time, discussed the strange coincidence of Joe and
Henry’s connection to the Revolutionary War.
“I think it’s weird,” Livvy said. “There must be some significance.”
“But what is it?” Ella asked. “Joe was just a reenactor. He had an
interest in the birth of the nation. Lots of soldiers fought in the war
and lots of them lost their lives, just like Henry did.”
“Has Henry always been hanging around Minute Man Park?” Liam
asked. “Or is his appearance something new?”
“He has been seen during the month of November previously, but
his antics are something new. He’s been stirring up trouble for about
a month,” Ella explained.
“Why, I wonder?” Liam questioned. “Has he been on this side of
things since he died or did he cross over and come back just
recently? Can spirits cross and then return?”
“It’s unusual for a spirit to do that,” Livvy reported. “We’ve never
met one who did so. Usually, when a ghost crosses, they don’t come
back.”
“But it’s possible?” Liam asked.
“Yes, it’s possible.” Ella slowed the car as it went into a curve.
Liam asked another question. “So does Kari know if the ghost
has been on this side of the worlds since 1775 or did he cross over
and then return?”
 “She doesn’t know.” Livvy texted her husband telling him they
were on the way home.
“I think the main question is why is Henry making a fuss now,
after nearly two-hundred-and-fifty years?” Liam asked.
“You ask good questions,” Livvy told the man. “But the answers
are often hard to find.”
Ella dropped Livvy at her house and promised to stop in to her
store, Sit A Spell, sometime tomorrow, then she drove to her own
place where Liam had left his car.
“Do you want to come in for some tea?” Ella asked her friend.
“I would like to, but I have a deadline for an article so I need to
get back to my apartment and get it finished.” Liam carried Raisin
out of the car and gently placed her on the driveway. “Do you still
want to hike tomorrow?”
“I definitely do. I need the exercise. I’ve been spending a lot of
time planning the curriculum for the new course I’m teaching in the
spring.”
“What course is it?”
“Introduction to ghost hunting,” Ella told him.
Liam’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Ella. “Really? The
administration is allowing you to teach that?”
A wide grin spread over Ella’s lips. “I’m teasing you.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “And I believed you for a second.”
“More than a second,” Ella kidded him. “The new course is
actually The Genius of Benjamin Franklin.”
“Maybe I’ll come by some days and sit in,” Liam smiled.
“You’re welcome to come.”
After Liam said goodnight to Ella and Raisin and drove away to
his apartment, Ella opened the backdoor to her antique Cape Cod
house, and in fifteen minutes, she and the cat had eaten, Ella had
changed into comfortable clothes, and she’d made a fire in the
woodstove. When she and Raisin curled up on the sofa, the heat
from the stove made them both sleepy and Ella had to fight to stay
awake in order to do her grading for her class.
Raisin lifted her head and looked to the family room’s big
windows that looked out over the backyard. Ella noticed the cat’s
attention had shifted right when a knock came on the backdoor
causing her to startle.
“Ella? It’s me.” Ben peeked into the room through the glass
window in the door.
Ella unlocked the door and pulled it open for her brother. “Ben. I
wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?”
Ben sat down next to Raisin and patted her while he spoke. “I
had a visitor a little while ago. I didn’t want to talk to you on the
phone so I jogged over from my house.”
Ella waited to hear about Ben’s visitor. “Who was it?” The words
were barely out of her mouth, when her eyes widened. “Was it …
Joe?”
Ben ran his hand over his face. “It was. I could only see his
particles. He never fully formed. I was surprised, to say the least.”
Ella leaned closer to her brother. “Were you able to
communicate?”
“Barely. I was in the barn working on a piece. A cold wind
whipped into the space. I knew it wasn’t a naturally-occurring
breeze. I couldn’t see anyone, but when I looked around with
peripheral vision, I spotted the glowing particles. I sure wished you
were there.”
“Are you sure it was Joe?” Ella asked as Raisin curled up on Ben’s
lap.
“I know it was him. After the breeze came through, a crushing
sadness pressed on me and pulled me down. It was a heavy, heavy
grief.” Ben’s words caught in his throat for a moment.
Ella reached out and took her brother’s hand.
Ben shook his head. “Then there was an awful wailing sound. It
went on and on. I thought my eardrums would explode. Thankfully,
it stopped after about two minutes, but it was a very long two
minutes.”
“Did Joe leave then?”
“No. His atoms grew brighter, but he still didn’t fully materialize. I
spoke to him, told him I knew he was here, explained that he had
passed, and that everything would be fine. I told him he didn’t need
to be afraid or worried, and we’d help him … he isn’t alone. I
explained that we could see spirits and had a lot of experience
helping them out. I told him he could stay at my house if that would
make him feel better or he could return to his own place.”
“Do you think he understood?” Ella asked.
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I think so. He went quiet. The atoms moved
closer to me. I think Joe wanted to watch me make something. I
know that sounds strange, but when he was alive, he really enjoyed
watching me craft something from the iron. I think it was a calming
process for him. So I continued with what I was making. I talked to
him, told him what I was doing, who the lantern was for, and what
I’d be making later.” Ben smiled. “If anyone walked up while I was
talking, they would have thought I’d lost it. I was chattering on and
on and no one was in the barn with me … at least, no one who was
visible.”
Raisin trilled at the young man.
“I think what you did was perfect,” Ella praised her brother. “I bet
going about your business and talking normally to Joe helped ease
his anxiety. You did the right thing. Is Joe still at your house?”
“No. He stayed for about two hours and then his atoms lost their
brightness and he disappeared.”
“I bet he went home.”
“It made me feel really bad,” Ben admitted. “I did ask Joe if he
wanted to cross over, but he didn’t give me any indication that he
was ready to do that.”
“We’ll go back tomorrow evening to see Joe. Hopefully, the police
will have finished examining the house and they won’t be around.
Livvy and I will spend some time telling Joe what happened to him
and explain about crossing to the other side.”
“Good. I have to work tomorrow night so I won’t be able to go
with you.”
“It’s okay. He knows us now. He saw us earlier today.”
As Ben ran his hand over the cat’s silky fur, he seemed like he’d
shaken off the gloom he’d arrived with. “You’ll help Joe. What
happened to him was shocking. We have to expect he’ll have a
difficult time coming to terms with his fate, but you have a calming
influence and you’ll be able to make him feel less lost.”
 Ella squeezed her brother’s shoulder. “Do you want some tea? Or
maybe, a beer?”
“I would, but I’m feeling exhausted. I’m going to head home.”
“Want me to walk with you?”
“Yes.” Ben looked down at the cat. “What about you, Cutie Cat?
Will you walk me home?”
Raisin meowed, jumped off Ben’s lap, and padded to the door.
When they were heading down the sidewalk, Ava, Ben’s girlfriend,
came walking towards them. She hugged Ben and asked if he was
all right.
“Did you see the ghost?” Ella asked the young woman.
“Briefly,” Ava said. “I came home from work and saw Ben in the
barn. I could see the glowing atoms beside him. I didn’t want to
disturb the encounter so I went into the house. I did hear the
terrible wailing sound though.” She rubbed at her ear, and then
looked at her boyfriend. “I thought I’d walk over and see how you
were.”
“I’m okay.” Ben put his arm around Ava’s shoulders and smiled at
her. “Thanks for coming to check on me.” Ben reached for Ella’s
hand and held it for a moment. “Thanks.”
“You bet,” Ella smiled.
“Good night, Raisin,” Ben told the cat and received a purring
sound in response.
When Ella and the cat arrived back in the family room, there was
a glowing presence standing by the woodstove. Raisin trilled a
welcome.
“Hello, Dorothy,” Ella said.
Dorothy Browning and her husband, Myles, were the original
owners of Ella’s 1789 Cape house, and when Dorothy passed, she
made the decision to remain in the dwelling she’d loved and raised a
family in.
“Some trouble?” Dorothy asked Ella by using her mind, not
spoken words.
“Some,” Ella told her.
“Your gift comes with responsibility,” Dorothy said.
 “I know. I’m grateful for my ability and I’m glad to be able to
help.”
“That’s good, because you’re going to have to give a whole heap
of help this time. Keep your eyes open for danger.”
Ella eyed the ghost who was always speaking cryptically to her,
giving her warnings, but with no details to prepare for. “Do I need to
have a family circle?”
“Not yet, but probably, later.” Dorothy’s form glimmered and then
she was gone.
Raisin meowed at Ella.
“Every time,” Ella muttered. “Dorothy warns me of something,
but never tells me what it is or when it will strike. Every darn time.”
 6

Bright and early the next morning, Ella and Livvy sat, shoulder-to-
shoulder, at one of the small round tables in Livvy’s shop reading Joe
Bigelow’s obituary on Livvy’s phone.
“He was only thirty-five.” Ella shook her head.
Livvy scrolled down on the article. “Look. Here is Joe’s former
wife’s name. Jennifer Chandler. She lives two towns over from here.”
Ella scribbled the name on a slip of paper so they could arrange a
meeting with her.
“The obituary also mentions the name of the reenactors
organization Joe belonged to.” Livvy was excited. “We can contact
them and talk to some of the reenactors Joe was friendly with.”
“Is anyone else listed? A friend? A relative?” Ella hoped there
would be other people who knew Joe well.
“His parents are both deceased. Oh, he had a sister, Penelope
Dixon. She lives in Newburyport.”
“Okay, great. Another person to speak with.” Ella looked up from
the paper she was making notes on. “Is a girlfriend mentioned?”
Livvy shook her head. “No girlfriend.”
Ella cocked her head to the side and her eyes narrowed in
thought. “Who gave the funeral home the information then? The
sister?”
“Maybe a friend? Maybe someone Joe worked with? We need to
visit his Quinsigamond restaurant and talk to some of the
employees.”
Checking the time, Ella said, “I need to be in class in thirty
minutes. I’ll meet you late this afternoon to go talk with Joe?”
“I’ll walk over to your house and we can ride to Poet’s Hill
together.”
As they were deciding on a time to meet, a tall man approached
their table and they looked up to see Detective Jonas Damon
standing over them.
Ella was surprised to see the man. “Oh, hi.”
“Want to join us?” Livvy asked.
With a nod, Jonas sat and set down the coffee he’d ordered at
the take-out counter. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to
stop for a coffee. I forgot you owned this place until I walked in. My
injuries from the attack have left me with some memory issues.” The
detective absent-mindedly rubbed his forehead. “The doctors tell me
it will pass eventually.”
“You’ve made a remarkable recovery, and in such a short time,
too,” Ella said encouragingly.
Jonas gave a weary smile. “To be honest, it feels like a century
has passed. I need to learn to be patient. I’m not used to being an
invalid.”
Livvy shook her head. “You’re hardly an invalid, but I understand
a little of what you’re saying. When I broke my leg and had to have
surgery a few years ago, I felt really down, I didn’t have much
energy. Everything was so difficult, I couldn’t drive, I needed help
carrying things. We take our physical abilities for granted and it’s
hard to adjust when something happens. An accident or injury can
show us our vulnerabilities.”
“And our mortality.” Jonas lifted his coffee to his mouth.
“We see that a lot,” Ella said softly, referring to the spirits they’d
helped along the way.
“I guess your family understands mortality better than most
people do,” Jonas admitted. “Talking with you about your
investigations has made me hopeful there is something on the other
side. I just don’t want to go there for a long time.”
 “I’m with you on that,” Livvy chuckled. “With any luck, we’re all
like cats and have nine lives.”
“Well, I must be down to eight lives now,” Jonas told them.
“Speaking of cats, where’s Raisin?”
“She’s spending the day at home,” Ella smiled. “I have a full load
of work at the university today.”
“Are you working on the Joe Bigelow case?” Livvy asked the
detective.
“Still unofficially. Sitting at the desk doing paperwork at the police
station is driving me nuts. Thankfully, it’s only two days a week. I’ve
been assisting the team informally. It gives me something to do and
keeps me from going stir-crazy.”
“Good idea.” Ella nodded. “Has suicide been ruled out?”
“It has, yes.”
“Are there any suspects?” Ella asked.
“Not yet.”
“Do you think there was more than one attacker?”
“I don’t think so, but a final determination hasn’t been made.”
“Why do you think there was only one attacker?” Livvy wondered
if Jonas would share any details with them.
Jonas looked from Livvy to Ella and lowered his voice. “It seems
that Mr. Bigelow might have been drugged prior to being hanged.
We believe the man was dead before the noose was placed around
his neck.”
“So if Joe was already dead, what was the point of hanging him?
Was it some sort of message?” Livvy asked. “Was it something
symbolic?”
“Unknown,” Jonas said.
“It must not have been an easy task to handle a dead body and
get him in position like that,” Ella pointed out. “If Joe was already
dead, why bother? Unless the killer was sending a message or was
trying to make a point.”
“If the intended message is figured out, maybe it will help point
to the attacker,” Livvy said.
“Possibly,” the detective said.
 “Is there anything in Joe’s house that could indicate who the
killer might be?” Ella questioned.
“The house is beautiful, tastefully and carefully decorated with
period furniture and artwork. Joe must have had a designer to help
with it. There were signs of a struggle in a few of the rooms.”
“Nothing unusual, as far as the struggle is concerned?” Ella
asked.
Jonas shrugged.
Livvy leaned forward. “Anything interesting about the house
besides it being so fine?”
“Joe was a collector. He had cabinets displaying Early American
and Colonial items. He had several objects dating back to the
Revolutionary War. We understand the items are worth a good deal
of money.”
Ella sat up. “But they’re still in the house? Nothing was stolen?”
“It doesn’t seem so. The investigators are still looking into that,”
Jonas said.
“Then the attacker didn’t know the worth of the items,” Livvy
assumed.
“Could that mean the attack was an act of revenge or rage?” Ella
questioned.
“The motivation is unknown,” the detective reported.
The sisters were getting the impression that Jonas probably knew
more than he was letting on and was being evasive about the
details.
“Is Joe Bigelow … still around?” Jonas was clearly uncomfortable
asking the question. “Did you see him the other night?”
Livvy took a quick glance at Ella. “Yes, we did.”
“He didn’t cross.” Jonas took in a long breath. “Did you
communicate with him?”
Ella sighed. “It was difficult. The man was distraught. We tried to
console him and explain what had happened. Joe was at our
brother’s barn last night. He doesn’t fully form, but we’re able to see
his particles and we can feel his grief. We haven’t reached the point
where we can communicate meaningfully with him.”
 “I see.” Jonas swallowed and looked down at the table. “Will you
be able to communicate with him eventually?”
“Possibly,” Livvy said. “Every spirit is unique.”
“Well, I hope you can help him.” Jonas stood up abruptly. “I’d
better get going. Nice to see you both.” He turned and hurried out of
the shop.
“I think Jonas is still reeling from the attack he suffered,” Ella
pointed out. “It seems to have taken an emotional toll on him as
well as a physical one. It’s not surprising. Death, spirits, distress …
he seems more impacted by it all than he was when we first met
him.”
“Like he said, the attack made him think more about vulnerability
and mortality. I bet he’ll be more open to believing that a spirit lives
on after the body has passed away. Maybe that notion will be
comforting to him,” Livvy said.
“He seems to still be wrestling with the ideas. It’s a lot to absorb.
You spend your life thinking one way, and then your belief system
gets shaken. He needs time.”
“Any thoughts about the little bit of information Jonas shared
with us?” Livvy asked her sister.
“Whoever killed Joe didn’t know the worth of the collection in his
house. Nothing has been obviously stolen so robbery mustn’t have
been the sole motive.”
“I’d agree with that especially since the killer seems to have
drugged Joe, killed him, and then strung him up after he was dead.
It’s weird. There’s a more compelling reason to hurt Joe in the killer’s
mind besides simple robbery.”
“To commit a crime like that points to some deep-seated hate or
rage, or revenge as the reason,” Ella suggested.
“Yeah,” Livvy groaned. “If we work on this case, we’ll be wading
into some dangerous territory.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Dorothy already showed up with a warning
for me.”
Livvy made a face. “Did she suggest a family circle?”
During the last case the family was involved with, Dorothy told
Ella to have the family take part in a circle … where the family
members perform a ceremony designed to protect each other or
someone in particular.
“She brought it up, but implied that it was something to do later
on, not right now.”
Livvy blew out a breath. “Okay. We’re safe … for now. Maybe
tonight, we’ll see Joe, he’ll be ready to cross over, we’ll do our thing
to help him, and then we’ll be off the hook. The police can
investigate on their own.”
With a smile, Ella said, “Ever the optimist.”
Livvy nodded. “We’ve still got the Revolutionary War soldier to
deal with.”
“Yeah. Isn’t it strange that we’ve got two ghosts with connections
to Revolutionary times?”
“It sure is,” Livvy agreed, and with a slow shake of her head, she
added, “We’ve got a lot of work to do, sis.”
 7

Jennifer Chandler was thirty-five years old with chin-length sandy

blond hair and blue eyes. Ella and Livvy sat with her in the
comfortable and nicely-decorated living room of the woman’s home
in Westborough.
“My husband took the kids and went out for an hour so we could
have some quiet time to talk,” Jennifer told them with a smile. “We
have two-year twins and they run us ragged.”
“I have a four-year-old,” Livvy told the woman. “He’s a great kid,
but being a mom is demanding. I don’t know how you manage
twins.”
Jennifer laughed. “I don’t have any choice.”
After a few more minutes of chatting, Ella said, “We’re very sorry
about your ex-husband.”
The young woman’s eyes darkened. “Thanks. Joe and I have
been apart for a little more than five years. A year after our divorce
was finalized, I met my husband. The year after that we got
married, and a year later, we had the twins. It’s been a whirlwind,
but a good whirlwind.”
“You and Joe were married for five years?” Livvy asked.
“That’s right. Things were great at the beginning, but two years
into the marriage, Joe informed me he’d changed his mind about
having children. I’ve always wanted a family and he and I discussed
it before we got engaged. Joe told me he wanted kids. I was pretty
surprised and shaken up by his announcement he’d decided it wasn’t
for him. Really, right then and there, I knew we wouldn’t stay
married. I resented him after that. I didn’t feel like he took my wants
and needs into consideration. I thought we should talk about it, but
he wouldn’t. He’d made up his mind and that was the end of it.”
“Was there a reason Joe changed his mind?” Ella asked. “Did
something happen that soured him on having a family?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Jennifer said. “If I brought it up, he
refused to discuss it. He told me he would never change his mind. I
even suggested couple’s counseling, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“You were the one who initiated the divorce?” Livvy said.
“Officially, yes. Unofficially, Joe was the one who ended our
marriage.” Jennifer shook her head and looked down at her hands.
“The worst part of it was that Joe wouldn’t talk to me about how he
was feeling, why he’d come to the decision. I couldn’t understand
why he didn’t take my feelings into account. I thought if we talked,
we could explain our needs to each other, we could come to a
mutual decision. That’s not how it was. I thought if he handled that
decision so individually, then that was probably how he would
behave all the time. I didn’t want that. I was very sad about it.”
“Did you and Joe live together in the Colonial on Poet’s Hill or did
he buy the house after you broke up?” Ella asked.
“We lived there together.” Jennifer sighed. “That was a mistake
on my part. Joe owned the house while we were dating. I thought
we should buy a place that we picked out together, but he wouldn’t
agree to sell the Colonial so that’s where we lived. I never felt like
the house was mine. I always felt like I was visiting Joe in his house.
I didn’t have a say in decorating the place. All of the decisions were
made by Joe. That should have been a tipoff to me, but I loved him
and let it go.”
“Joe’s obituary reported he had a sister,” Livvy said.
“Yes. Penelope. She lives in Newburyport. Joe and Penny didn’t
see each other very much.”
“Did they have a falling out?”
“There was no falling out. Joe was fond of his sister. Penny is
about seven or eight years older. She went away to boarding school
for middle and high school, and then for college. I don’t think she
and Joe lived together more than four years.”
“Did Joe come from money?”
“He did. His father started a hedge fund. They were millionaires
many times over. Joe’s father gave him the money to start his
restaurants. Joe was a good business person, but without that initial
infusion of cash, I don’t know if things would have been so
successful for him.”
“Where did Joe grow up?”
“He grew up in Weston, attended private schools. He started his
restaurants in Quinsigamond because the cost of starting up was so
much lower than in the Boston area, and we both liked central
Massachusetts.”
“Had you been in touch with Joe recently?” Livvy asked.
“We’d talk a few times a year. We had an amenable breakup. We
wanted to stay friends. Joe even came to my wedding and he always
sent gifts to our kids. I think it was about a month ago that we
talked last.”
Ella nodded, impressed by Joe and Jennifer’s ability to remain
cordial with one another.
“Did Joe seem like himself when you talked?”
“He did.”
“Did he mention anything that was bothering him? Any issues
with someone? Anything going wrong?” Ella asked.
“A friend and I went to his restaurant in Quinsigamond and Joe
was there that night. He seemed really busy and maybe a little
stressed out, but he was friendly and happy to see us.”
“In the past, did Joe have any enemies or maybe ran into some
trouble with anyone?”
“Nothing serious. There are always squabbles or issues at work
or with a contractor or a supplier,” Jennifer said. “Just the usual little
annoyances.”
“Can you think of anyone who seemed to hold a grudge against
Joe?”
Jennifer’s forehead scrunched in thought. “No one.”
“Do you have any idea who could have killed him?”
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 »Isä!» huudahti hän. »Oletko sinä opastanut vihaamasi Englannin
kuninkaan omaa poikaasi vastaan!»

»Sinä et ole minun poikani, Norman of Torn», vastasi vanhus. »Se

aika, jolloin olet minulle ollut hyödyksi, on mennyt; nyt edistät
tarkoituksiani parhaiten roikkumalla hirsipuussa. Vangitkaa hänet,
herra kreivi! Väitetään, että pihalla on oivallinen, vankka hirsipuu.»

»Antaudutko, Norman of Torn?» huusi de Montfort.

»Kyllä», kuului vastaus, »sittenkun tällä lattialla on nilkan

korkeudelta englantilaisten verta ja sydämeni on tauonnut
sykkimästä; sitten antaudun.»

»Joutuin!» kivahti kuningas. »Käskekää miestenne vangita se

koira, de
Montfort!»

»Käykää hänen kimppuunsa siis!» komensi kreivi, kääntyen

odottavien sotilaiden puoleen, joista kukaan ei näyttänyt kovin
kiihkeästi pyrkivän tuhoon tuomitun henkipaton kimppuun.

Mutta muuan vahtiupseeri näytti heille esimerkkiä, ja sitten he

kaikki työntyivät yhtä aikaa Norman of Tornia kohti, kaksikymmentä
säilää yhtä vastaan.

Nyt oli Tornin henkipatolta leikki kaukana; kysymyksessä oli tuima

taistelu, ja hänen ainoa toivonsa oli hirvittävästi harventaa
ahdistajainsa joukkoa, ennenkuin hän itse sortuisi.

Ja niinpä hän taisteli niinkuin hän ei ollut milloinkaan ennen

taistellut, tappaakseen niin monta ja niin nopeasti kuin suinkin. Ja
katsojista näytti, ettei nuori kaartinupseeri ollut ehtinyt tuon
peloittavan säilän ulottuviin, ennenkuin hän jo virui kuolleena lattialla,
ja sitten kuoleman ota tunkeutui erään sotilaan keuhkoihin, tuskin
seisahtuen, ennenkuin se jo lävisti kolmannen sydämen.

Sotilaat vetäytyivät heti takaisin säikähtyneinä tuon valtavan käden

tekemästä tuhosta. Ennenkuin de Montfort ennätti hoputtaa heitä
uuteen hyökkäykseen, syöksähti pienen, yksinäisen vastustajansa
vastassa seisovan miesryhmän lävitse pitkään ratsastusvaippaan
puettu tyttömäinen hahmo.

Päästäen hiljaisen raivon ja paheksumisen huudahduksen

Bertrade de Montfort heittäytyi Tornin paholaisen eteen, kääntyi
hämmästyneeseen seurueeseen, kuninkaaseen, prinssiin, sotilaihin
ja ylimyksiin päin, oikaisihe täyteen mittaansa ja, osoittaen koko sitä
rodun ja veren ylpeyttä, jonka hän oli saanut perinnöksi.

Ranskan kuninkaalta isänsä puolelta ja Englannin kuninkaalta

äitinsä puolelta, hän sinkautti heille uhmansa ja halveksumisensa
yhdessä sanassa:

»Raukat!»

»Mitä tämä merkitsee, tyttö?» kysyi de Montfort. »Oletko tullut

pähkähulluksi? Tiedätkö, että tämä miekkonen on Tornin
henkipatto?»

»Jollen olisi tietänyt sitä ennen», vastasi tyttö kopeasti, »olisi se

nyt minulle selvinnyt nähdessäni neljänkymmenen pelkurin
epäröivän ahdistaessaan yhtä ainoata miestä. Kuka muu mies koko
Englannissa kykenisi tällä tavoin vastustamaan neljääkymmentä?
Puolustautumaan pakotettu leijona, jonka jalkojen juuressa nalkuttaa
neljäkymmentä shakaalia!»
 »Jo riittää, tyttö!» kivahti kuningas. »Mitä tämä lurjus merkitsee
sinulle?»

»Hän rakastaa minua, teidän majesteettinne», virkkoi Bertrade

ylpeästi, »ja minä rakastan häntä».

»Sinä rakastat tätä halpasyntyistä hirtehistä, Bertrade», kiljui

Henrik. »Sinä, de Montfort, sisareni tytär, joka olet nähnyt tämän
murhaajan kirotun merkin sukulais-vainajiesi otsassa, joka olet
nähnyt hänen syytävän uhmaansa vasten kuninkaan, enosi, kasvoja
ja omistavan koko elämänsä omaistesi ryöstämiseen; sinäkö
rakastat tätä hirviötä?»

»Minä rakastan häntä, teidän majesteettinne.»

»Rakastatko häntä, Bertrade?» tiedusti Ranskan Filip hiljaa,

työntyen likemmäksi tyttöä.

»Kyllä, Filip», myönsi neito äänessään hieman surullinen, mutta

varma sointu, samalla kun hän avoimesti ja rohkeasti katsoi prinssiä
silmiin.

Heti singahti nuoren prinssin miekka tupestaan, hän pyörähti de

Montfortia ja muita ahdistajia kohti ja peräytyi Norman of Tornin
rinnalle.

»Se, että Bertrade rakastaa häntä, riittää minulle, hyvät herrat»,

lausui hän. »Sen, joka vangitsee Bertrade de Montfortin rakastaman
miehen, täytyy myöskin vangita Ranskan Filip.»

Norman of Torn laski vasemman kätensä prinssin olalle.

 »Ei; sinä et saa tehdä näin, ystäväni», kielsi hän. »Tämä on minun
taisteluni, ja minä tahdon taistella sen yksin. Mene, pyydän sinua, ja
vie hänet muassasi pois vaaran jaloista!»

Heidän väitellessään olivat Simon de Montfort ja kuningas

puhelleet keskenään, ja edellisen käskystä sotilaat äkkiä hyökkäsivät
jälleen. Se oli raukkamainen sotajuoni, sillä he tiesivät, ettei pari
voinut taistella, kun tyttö oli heidän ja heidän vastustajiensa välissä.
Ja siten he ylivoimallaan kiskoivat Bertrade de Montfortin ja prinssin
pois Norman of Tornin luota niin, ettei iskuakaan sivallettu, ja
senjälkeen astui pieni, tuikea harmaapäinen vanhus esille.

»Koko Englannissa, niin, koko maailmassa on ainoastaan yksi

miekka, joka pystyy yksin nujertamaan Norman of Tornin», sanoi hän
puhuen kuninkaalle, »ja se miekka on minun. Käske karjasi pysytellä
loitommalla, poissa tieltäni!» Ja vastausta odottamatta tuikea
harmaapää hypähti miekkailemaan sitä miestä vastaan, jota hän
kahden vuosikymmenen aikana oli nimittänyt pojakseen.

Norman of Torn astui nurkastaan ottelemaan vanhusta vastaan,

jonka hän nyt oli oppinut tuntemaan vihamiehekseen, ja silloin
taisteltiin Englannin kuningattaren huoneessa Battelin linnassa
sellainen kaksintaistelu, jollaista yksikään siellä olevista katselijoista
ei ollut ennen nähnyt ja jollaista ei luultavasti ole suoritettu sitä
ennen eikä sen jälkeen.

Maailman molemmat parhaat miekkailijat, opettaja ja oppilas —

toinen voimakas kuin nuori härkä, toinen ovela kuin vanha, harmaa
kettu, ja molemmilla elinkautinen harjaannus takanaan ja verenhimo
ja viha kannustajinaan — pistivät, väistivät ja sivalsivat, niin että
tämän ihmeellisen miekkailun kauhuiset katselijat tuskin hengittivät
jännityksen ja ihmettelyn vallassa.
 He siirtyivät sinne tänne huoneessa, samalla kun ne, jotka olivat
tulleet surmaamaan, painautuivat taaksepäin tehdäkseen tilaa
kamppailijoille. Nyt nuori mies pakotti vanhempaa vastustajaansa
yhä enemmän puolustuskannalle. Hitaasti, mutta yhtä varmasti kuin
kuolema hän pääsi yhä likemmäksi voittoa. Myöskin vanhus oivalsi
sen. Hän oli omistanut vuosia elämästään harjoittaakseen tuota
valtavaa kättä, jotta se pystyisi kylvämään kuolemaa muiden
keskuuteen, ja nyt, kostavan kohtalon julman oikeudenmukaisuuden
määräyksestä, hän itse vihdoin sortuisi sen pirullisen taidon
kaatamana.

Hän ei voinut voittaa Norman of Tornia rehellisessä taistelussa,

sen kavala ranskalainen tajusi; mutta kun nyt kuolema oli niin likellä
häntä, että hän tunsi sen kylmän hengityksen tiivistyvän otsalleen, ei
häntä lainkaan haluttanut kuolla, ja niinpä hän mietti keinoja, joiden
avulla hän voisi välttää ajattelemattoman yrityksensä seurauksen.

Äkkiä hän huomasi tilaisuuden. Norman of Torn seisoi erään

aikaisemman vastustajansa ruumiin vieressä. Verkkaisesti vanhus
siirtyi sivulle, kunnes ruumis oli suoraan henkipaton takana, ja
pinnistäen sitten vielä kerran erinomaista miekkailutaitoa hän pakotti
Norman of Tornin peräytymään yhden ainoan askeleen — se riitti,
henkipaton jalka osui lattialla viruvaan ruumiiseen; hän horjahti, ja
lyhyeksi hetkiseksi hänen oikea kätensä kohosi, vaikka vain hiukan,
hänen koettaessaan säilyttää tasapainoaan; mutta se vähäinen oli
kylliksi, juuri sitä oli vanha käärme odottanut, ja hän oli valmis.
Salamannopeasti hänen säilänsä sujahti aukosta, ja ensimmäisen
kerran elämänsä aikana, joka oli ollut täynnä alituista taistelua ja
kuolemaa, Norman of Torn tunsi kylmän teräksen leikkaavan
lihaansa. Mutta ennenkuin hän kaatui, totteli hänen miekkansa
rautaisen tahdon viimeistä rajua komennusta, ja samalla kun hänen
ruumiinsa vaipui hervottomana lattialle, kierähtäen käsivarret
levällään selälleen, sortui myöskin pieni, tuikea harmaapäinen
vanhus maahan, suonenvedontapaisesti puristaen rintaansa
uponnutta, välkkyvää säilää.

Hetkisen katselijat seisoivat ikäänkuin kivettyneinä, ja sitten

Bertrade de Montfort riistäydyttyään irti isänsä pidättävistä käsistä
syöksyi rakastamansa miehen elottoman ruumiin ääreen.
Polvistuttuaan hänen viereensä hän hoki ääneen hänen nimeään
päästäessään irti hänen kypäriään. Hän kiskoi teräksisen päähineen
kaatuneen päästä, hyväili hänen kasvojansa ja suuteli kalpeata
otsaa ja liikkumattomia huulia.

»Voi, hyvä Jumala! Voi, hyvä Jumala!» jupisi hän. »Minkä tähden
otit hänet pois? Vaikka hän olikin henkipatto, oli hänen
pikkusormessaan enemmän kunniantuntoa, ritarillisuutta ja todellista
miehuutta kuin virtaa Englannin kaikkien ylimysten suonissa.

»En ihmettele sitä, että hän ryösti teiltä», huusi hän, kääntyen
takanaan seisovien ritarien puoleen. »Hänen elämänsä oli puhdas,
teidän on mätä; hän oli uskollinen ystävilleen ja poljetuille, te olette
kaikki sydämeltänne kavaltajia; ja aina te tallaatte maahan
sortuneita, jotta he vaipuisivat yhä syvemmälle mutaan. Mon Dieu!
Kuinka teitä vihaankaan!» lopetti hän. Ja ne sanat lausuessaan
Bertrade de Montfort katsoi suoraan isänsä silmiin.

Vanha kreivi käänsi päänsä toisaalle, sillä hän oli pohjaltaan uljas,
laajasydäminen, hyväntahtoinen mies ja katui jo suuttumuksen
ajattelemattomassa kiihkossa tekemäänsä tekoa.

»No, no, lapsi», tyynnytti kuningas, »olet kiihtynyt, sanot sellaista,

mitä et tarkoita. Maailma on parempi, kun tämä mies on kuollut. Hän
oli järjestetyn yhteiskunnan vihollinen, hän ryösti aina
kanssaihmisiltään. Elämä on Englannissa turvallisempaa tämän
päivän jälkeen. Älä itke sellaisen nimettömän seikkailijan ruumiin
ääressä, joka ei tuntenut omaa isäänsä!»

Joku oli nostanut pienen, tuikean, harmaapäisen vanhuksen

istuvaan asentoon. Hän ei ollut kuollut, Silloin tällöin hän yski, ja
silloin hänen ruumistaan aina puistatti tuska, ja verta vuoti hänen
suustansa ja sieraimistaan.

Vihdoin hän näytti koettavan puhua. Hän viittasi heikosti

kuninkaaseen päin. Henrik tuli hänen luoksensa.

»Olet voittanut itsellesi hallitsijasi kiitollisuuden, kelpo mies»,

virkkoi kuningas ystävällisesti. »Mikä on nimesi?»

Vanhus koetti puhua, mutta ponnistuksen seurauksena oli uusi

yskän puuska. Vihdoin hänen onnistui kuiskia.

»Katso — minua! Etkö — sinä — tunne — minua? Miekkailussa —

isku — kaksikymmentä — pitkää vuotta. Sinä — syljit — kasvoilleni.»

Henrik polvistui tähystämään kuolevan kasvoja.

»De Vac!» huudahti hän.

Vanhus nyökkäsi. Sitten hän osoitti lattialla viruvaa Norman of

Tornia.

»Henkipatto — rosvo — Englannin — vitsaus. Katso — hänen —

kasvojaan.
Avaa — hänen — ihokkaansa — vasemmassa — rinnassa.»
 Hän keskeytti puhelunsa pelkästä heikkoudesta. Mutta seuraavalla
hetkellä hän pinnistäytyi vielä kerran supattamaan: »De Vacin —
kosto. Jumala — kirotkoon — englantilaisia.» Sitten hän retkahti
eteenpäin heinille kuolleena.

Kuningas, de Montfort ja kuningatar olivat kuulleet. He seisoivat,

silmäillen omituisen jäykästi toistensa silmiin, kuten tuntui,
kokonaisen iäisyyden, ennenkuin kukaan heistä uskalsi liikahtaa. Ja
vasta sitten he, ikäänkuin peläten, mitä näkisivät, kumartuivat Tornin
henkipaton ruumiin puoleen.

Kuningattarelta pääsi hiljainen parkaisu, kun hän näki ylöspäin

kääntyneet liikkumattomat, rauhalliset kasvot.

»Edward!» kuiskasi hän.

»Ei Edward, madame», virkkoi de Montfort, »vaan —»

Kuningas polvistui ruumiin viereen, jonka päällä Bertrade de

Montfort virui tiedottomana. Hellävaroen hän nosti tytön Ranskan
Filipin odottavaan syliin, ja sitten kuningas omin käsin kiskoi pois
rautapaidan ja vapisevin sormin repi auki ihokkaan Tornin paholaisen
rinnan vasemmalta puolelta.

»Voi, hyvä Jumala!» voihkaisi hän ja kiersi käsivartensa päänsä

ympärille.

Myöskin kuningatar oli nähnyt, ja hiljaa ähkäisten hän vaipui toisen

lapsensa ruumiin viereen valittaen:

»Voi, Rikhard, poikani, oma poikani!» Ja kun hän kumartui vielä

syvempään suudellakseen liljamaista merkkiä tämän poikansa
rinnan vasemmalla puolella, jota hän ei ollut tuntien nähnyt yli
kahteenkymmeneen vuoteen, pysähtyi hän ja painoi sitten rajun
hätäisesti korvansa kaatuneen rintaa vasten.

»Hän elää!» hän melkein kirkaisi. »Nopeasti, Henrik, poikamme

elää!»

Bertrade de Montfort oli tullut jälleen tajuihinsa jo melkein ennen

kuin Ranskan Filip oli nostanut hänet lattialta, ja nyt hän seisoi
prinssin käsivarteen nojautuneena, silmät levällään ja kysyvästi
katsellen jalkojensa juuressa näyteltävää kummallista kohtausta.

Hitaasti Norman of Tornin silmäluomet avautuivat tajunnan

palatessa.
Hänen edessään oli veren tahraamilla kaisloilla polvillaan Eleanor,
Englannin kuningatar, vuoroin silitellen, vuoroin suudellen hänen
käsiään.

Paha haava totisesti, koska se aiheutti niin hurjia näkyjä, tuumi

Tornin henkipatto.

Hän tunsi olevansa puolittain istuma-, puolittain makuuasennossa

nojallaan jotakuta hänen taaksensa polvistunutta henkilöä vasten, ja
kun hän kohotti päätänsä nähdäkseen, kuka häntä tuki, katsoi hän
silmiin kuningasta, jonka rinnalla hänen päänsä lepäsi.

Sekaantuneiden aivojen omituisia harhakuvia! Niin, sen täytyi olla

hyvin hirveä haava, jonka Tornin pieni vanhus oli häneen pistänyt;
mutta minkä tähden hän ei voinut uneksia Betrade de Montfortin
tukevan häntä? Ja sitten hänen katseensa lipui pitkin hänen
ympärilleen tunkeutuneita naisia, ylimyksiä ja sotilaita, jotka seisoivat
hatutta päin ja pää kumarassa. Äkkiä hän löysi neidon.
 »Bertrade!» kuiskasi hän.

Tyttö tuli ja kumartui hänen viereensä vastapäätä kuningatarta.

»Bertrade, olethan sinä todellinen; ethän sinä ainakaan ole

unikuva?»

»Olen ihan todellinen, armas», vakuutti tyttö, »ja myöskin nämä

toiset ovat todellisia… Kun voimistut, ymmärrät kaiken sen
kummallisen, mitä on tapahtunut. Nämä, jotka olivat vihollisiasi,
Norman of Torn, ovat nyt parhaita ystäviäsi — se sinun pitää tietää,
jotta voit levätä rauhassa, kunnes olet parempi.»

Norman hapuili hänen kättänsä ja löydettyään sen sulki silmänsä,

huoahtaen heikosti.

Hänet kannettiin kuningattaren huoneen viereisessä huoneessa

olevaan vuoteeseen, ja koko sen yön istuivat Tornin henkipaton äiti
ja hänen vaimokseen lupautunut tyttö, hautoen hänen kuumeista
otsaansa. Myöskin kuninkaan henkilääkäri oli saapuvilla, kun taas
kuningas ja de Montfort kävelivät käytävässä.

Ja aina on ollut niin sekä hökkelissä että palatsissa, sekä

Mooseksen päivinä että meidän aikoinamme: kadonnut ja sitten
jälleen löydetty lammas on aina rakkain.

Aamupuolella Norman of Torn vaipui rauhalliseen ja luonnolliseen

uneen; kuume ja hourailu olivat väistyneet hänen mainion
terveytensä ja rautaisen rakenteensa syrjäyttäminä. Lääkäri kääntyi
kuningattaren ja Bertrade de Montfortin puoleen.

»Teidän olisi paras poistua lepäämään, hyvät naiset, prinssi jää

henkiin.»
 Norman heräsi myöhään iltapäivällä, eivätkä kuninkaan lääkärin
mitkään suostuttelut eivätkä komennukset jaksaneet estää häntä
nousemasta pystyyn.

»Rukoilen teitä lepäämään rauhassa, armollinen prinssi», pyysi

lääkäri.

»Minkä tähden nimitätte minua prinssiksi?» kummasteli Norman of

Torn.

»Oven takana odottaa henkilö, jonka oikeus on selittää teille se»,

vastasi lääkäri, »ja kun olette pukeutunut, jos tahdotte nousta
jalkeille, saatte tavata hänet, mylord.»

Lääkäri auttoi häntä pukeutumaan ja avattuaan oven lausui jotakin

sen takana seisovalle vahdille. Vahti kertasi sanat siellä odottavalle
nuorelle aseenkantajalle, ja pian ovi sysättiin ulkoapäin jälleen auki,
ja ääni ilmoitti:

»Hänen majesteettinsa kuningatar!»

Norman of Torn katsahti oveen päin teeskentelemättömän

hämmästyneenä, ja sitten hänen mieleensä muistui edellisenä iltana
kuningattaren huoneessa tapahtunut kohtaus. Se kaikki oli hänestä
kiusallisen kummallista; hän ei jaksanut sitä käsittää eikä sitä
yrittänytkään.

Ja ikäänkuin unessa hän nyt näki Englannin kuningattaren tulevan

kädet ojossa häntä kohti pienen huoneen lattian poikki kauniit kasvot
säteilevinä onnesta ja rakkaudesta.

»Rikhard, poikani!» riemuitsi Eleanor, tullen hänen luoksensa,

ottaen hänen päänsä käsiensä väliin ja suudellen häntä.
 »Madame», huudahti ällistynyt mies. »Onko koko maailma tullut
hulluksi?»

Ja sitten kuningatar kertoi hänelle Englannin pienen, kadonneen

prinssin kummallisen tarinan.

Hänen lopetettuaan poika polvistui hänen jalkojensa juureen,

tarttui hänen käteensä ja nosti sen huulilleen.

»En tiennyt sitä, madame», virkkoi hän. »Muutoin ei miekkani olisi

milloinkaan paljastunut kenenkään muun palveluksessa kuin sinun.
Jos sinä voitkin antaa minulle anteeksi, madame, en itse voi koskaan
antaa anteeksi itselleni.»

»Älä ota sitä niin ankarasti, poikani», kielsi Englannin Eleanor. »Se
ei ole sinun syysi, eikä ole mitään anteeksiannettavaa; meidän pitäisi
tuntea vain onnea ja riemua nyt, kun sinut on taaskin löydetty.»

»Anteeksiantoa!» lausui miehenääni heidän takanaan. »Totisesti,

meidänhän pitäisi anoa anteeksi, koska olemme vainonneet omaa
poikaamme miekoilla ja hirttosilmukoilla.

»Kaikkien muiden paitsi hupsujen olisi pitänyt arvata, ettei se mies

ollut halpasyntyinen lurjus, joka lähetti kuninkaan armeijan
alastomana takaisin kuninkaan luokse ja sulloi kuninkaan
tiedonannon hänen sanansaattajansa kurkkuun.

»Kautta kaikkien pyhimysten, Rikhard, sinä olet läpikotaisin

kuninkaanpoika, ja vaikka kasvomme olivatkin happamet silloin,
olemme nyt sinusta sitäkin ylpeämpiä.»

Kuningatar ja henkipatto olivat kääntyneet kuultuaan ensimmäiset

sanat, ja nähneet kuninkaan seisovan takanaan. Nyt Norman of Torn
puolittain hymyillen nousi tervehtimään isäänsä.

»Ne ovat murheellisia piloja, sire», sanoi hän. »Minusta tuntuu,

että olisi ollut parempi, jos Rikhard olisi pysynyt kateissa.
Plantagenetien kunnialle ei ole kovinkaan hyväksi, jos Tornin
henkipatto tunnustetaan hallitsijasuvun prinssiksi.»

Mutta he eivät tahtoneet sitä, ja erään Englannin myöhäisemmän

kuninkaan tehtäväksi jäi pyyhkiä se suuri nimi pois historian lehdiltä
— kenties kateellisen kuninkaan.

Pian kuningas ja kuningatar, jotka yhtyivät lääkärin vetoomuksiin,

saivat hänet taivutetuksi paneutumaan uudelleen makuulle, ja hänen
tehtyään niin he poistuivat hänen luotansa, jotta hän saisi taaskin
nukkua; mutta heti kun ovi oli sulkeutunut heidän jälkeensä, nousi
hän pystyyn ja poistui huoneesta toisesta ovesta.

Sattumalta hän löysi etsimänsä henkilön syvästä

ikkunakomerosta. Tyttö istui silmäillen kaihoisesti avaruuteen
kauniilla kasvoillaan puolittain murheellinen ilme. Hän ei huomannut
lähestyvää tulijaa, ja hetkisen mies seisoi paikallaan, katsellen
sivulta päin hänen rakkaita kasvojaan ja hänen kohoavaa ja
laskeutuvaa rintaansa, jonka kätkemä uskollinen ja vilpitön sydän oli
niin ylväästi sykkinyt mahtavan valtaistuimen koko voimaa vastaan
Tornin halveksitun henkipaton puolesta.

Rikhard ei hiiskunut mitään, mutta pian se omituinen, hieno

kuudes aisti, joka varoittavasti ilmoittaa meille, ettemme ole yksin,
vaikka silmämme eivät näe eivätkä korvamme kuule, sai tytön
kääntymään.
 Hiljaa huudahtaen hän nousi pystyyn; niiaten sitten hovin tapaan
hän virkkoi:

»Mitä haluaa mylord Rikhard, Englannin prinssi, poloiselta

alamaiseltaan?» Ja vakavammin hän lisäsi: »Mylord, minut on
kasvatettu hovissa, ja ymmärrän, ettei prinssi mene avioliittoon
harkitsemattomasti, joten unohtakaamme, mitä Bertrade de
Montfortin ja Norman of Tornin välillä on tapahtunut.»

»Englannin prinssi Rikhard ei millään tavoin tahdo rikkoa

kuninkaallisia perinnäistapoja vastaan», vastasi mies, »sillä hän ei
mene avioliittoon harkitsemattomasti, vaan perin viisaasti, koska hän
ei mene naimisiin kenenkään muun kuin Bertrade de Montfortin
kanssa». Ja hän, joka oli ollut Tornin henkipatto, otti ihanan nuoren
tytön syliinsä, lisäten: »Jos hän vielä rakastaa minua nyt, kun olen
prinssi?»

Tyttö kiersi kätensä hänen kaulaansa ja veti hänen poskensa

omaa poskeaan vasten.

»En minä rakastanut henkipattoa, Rikhard, enkä nyt rakasta

prinssiä; minusta on ihan yhdentekevää, prinssikö vai rosvo — sinua
minä rakastan, armas — juuri sinua.»
 *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KADONNUT
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