Barbara Michaels - The Walker in Shadows

"Let's eat," he said.

"What about a drink before dinner?" Josef suggested, eyeing the white cartons without enthusiasm.

He made himself a drink; no one else joined him. Mark seated his ladies with a flourish. He was obviously in a euphoric mood. Pat wished she could say the same for Josef. Conversation was almost nonexistent until Mark had satisfied the first pangs of hunger.

"Any luck on your research?" Pat asked.

"Not much," Mark answered. "We've pretty well exhausted what the library had to offer. The historical association was closed today; but I thought maybe we'd stop by Jay's place tonight."

"Jay?" Josef asked.

"He's the curator of the historical association," Pat answered for her son, whose mouth was full. "He lives down the street. I didn't realize you knew him, Mark."

"I know him slightly," Mark said, reaching for another egg roll. His mother gave him a sharp look. It had not dawned on her until that moment that the bachelor pad on the street might offer attractions to other young males in the neighborhood. She sent forth a silent prayer to whatever powers-might-be that Jay was neither gay nor in trouble with the police, and said moderately, "Then you still cling to your-excuse me-nutty idea that we have a historical ghost?"

"Nicely put," Mark said. "Now as I see it, what we have to do is find out more about the families who lived here. There are all kinds of things we can try. I made a list." He tilted to one side so that he could reach his hip pocket, and flourished a grubby piece of paper. "First Jay and the local historical association. Then the state association in Baltimore, and the Library of Congress manuscript division. Genealogical societies, like the DAR and the Daughters of the Confederacy. I want to track down the descendants, if any, of the Bateses and the Turnbulls. There might be family records-diaries, old photo albums, letters. They wrote diaries like crazy in those days, especially the women. Some of 'em have even been published. We ought to check the Library of Congress card catalog, just in case Louisa or Lavinia got their memoirs into print. Old army records, too. I also want to search both houses."

"What on earth for?" Pat demanded. "I can assure you, Mark, that when we moved in, there were no mysterious trunks or boxes of books lying around. Your father stripped the wallpaper down to the plaster, and-"

"I know, I know," Mark said impatiently. "We did that here. But what about Halcyon House? Have you looked in the attic and the basement, Mr. Friedrichs? People sometimes pack things away and stick them in corners and they remain there for years."

"I went over the house from top to bottom," Josef said shortly. "I cannot remember seeing anything of the sort you are thinking of. What the hell are you thinking of, Mark?"

His tone, Pat felt, was deliberately offensive. Before Mark could answer, Kathy, who had been demurely silent, spoke up.

"We don't know, Dad, we're just investigating every possibility. There could be a secret room or something, where people kept money or records-"

"Fantasy," Josef snapped. "Where do you kids get these ideas? I thought the younger generation had stopped reading books like The Count of Monte Cristo. I suppose it's TV."

"I've read The Count of Monte Cristo," Mark said. "But we're talking about fact, not fiction, Mr. Friedrichs. The Civil War was the last romantic war. People actually did do things like that. And if you don't like my ideas, what do you propose-to let Kathy sleep in that room again tonight?"

Josef's eyes were as dark and cold as basalt.

"I propose to sleep there myself," he said.

There was a brief pause.

"Wait just one moment," Pat said. "After what happened last night-"

Josef turned to her. His cold stare might have softened infinitesimally, but Pat wasn't sure.

"There are two ways of going at this, Pat. One is to delve into the background; and at the risk of being rude I must say that I find Mark's theories poorly based on fact. The other is the pragmatic approach. I admit that something decidedly abnormal is occurring in my house. Mark has suggested that it is purposeful-directed by a conscious intelligence. All right. One way of testing that is to see what it-if it exists-does want. Mark has implied that it wants Kathy." Mark started to object at that point, and Kathy let out a gasp. Josef waved them both to silence and went on. "That is certainly a possibility. So we'll test it. I will stay in her room tonight; I don't claim I'll be able to sleep. If the… presence is sentient and directed at Kathy, it will not disturb me. If nothing happens tonight-"

"Then we try Kathy again, tomorrow night, just to make sure?" Pat demanded angrily. "Josef, do you realize what you are saying?"

"We try Mark tomorrow night," Josef said.

This time the silence lasted longer.

Night had fallen. Through the open kitchen windows the soft scent of spring filled the room. The noise of rushing traffic, voices raised in Saturday-night social activities, all these sounds were muted by distance. Across the table the eyes of the two men met and locked. Mark had accepted, and approved, the challenge. His response enraged Pat even more than Josef's original suggestion.

"You are crazy," she said. "If you think I'll stand for-"

"Right on," Kathy exclaimed. "Dad, you're nuts."

"Quiet," Mark said. "He's right. Only tonight I stay in Kathy's room."

"What about me?" Pat shouted. "You two male chauvinists… If you think you can keep the women safe behind the lines of battle-"

She had not realized Josef could speak so loudly. His voice overrode hers, and Mark's reply to her suggestion.

"The problem began when we moved in-never mind old Hiram, Mark, his ramblings are not evidence. We need not risk Kathy again. It obviously reacts to her. I am the most logical person to try next. As for the charge of chauvinism-"

"I'm bigger than you are," Mark said, glowering at his mother. "You just try."

"Your father would have let me try," Pat said.

It was dirty pool, and she knew it. Mark's face went white. Pat was only dimly aware of the reactions of the other two; she was concerned with Mark.

"You're bigger and stronger and younger and tougher than I am," she said. "If any material danger comes along, I'll gladly let you rush to my defense. But this is not a physical danger."

For once, Mark was incapable of speech. It was Josef who replied.

"You're crossing bridges too far in advance, Pat," he said mildly. "The first attempt is mine, that's only fair. If nothing happens tonight, we'll discuss the next step. Okay?"

Pat could only nod. The sight of Mark's hurt face made it impossible for her to pursue the discussion, which had to do with basic issues far more important than the trivial question of ghosts or no ghosts. Some day it would have to be settled, but she couldn't push her son any farther now. At any rate, her argument had stupefied Mark to the point where he was not battling with Josef for the honor of being next in line for the poltergeist's attentions.

"That's settled," Josef went on. "You can all perch on the tree outside and watch, if you like; I'm not so stupid or heroic as to refuse help. But if you plan to spend the night on guard, you might consider having a nap this evening."

Mark, recovering, shook his head.

"I'll be perching in the tree, Mr. Friedrichs, don't worry. But I want to talk to Jay tonight."

"You aren't going to tell him what happened, are you?" Pat asked.

"Out of the question," Josef said.

"Why?" Mark demanded. "We'll get more help from him if he knows all about it."

"Oh, Mark, no," Pat said. "We can't have this spread all over the neighborhood."

"Especially," Josef added, "if I have to sell the house. It would certainly have an adverse effect on the price."