The shop was advertised as a gift shop, but James thought it was more of a mess. There was a little bit of everything in here and while he wasn’t too familiar with what was fashionable or aesthetic these days, it seemed like several types of houses had all vomited their decorations directly onto the floor of this small building. 

He and Graham were here right now to interview Daphne, the owner of the building and the shop. James’s first impression was that Daphne was very enthusiastic and more than a little strange. She’d greeted them at the door, then hurried to help a customer up at the cash register, leaving the two of them to look around the shop while they waited.

“What do you think of these for the kitchen table?” James asked Graham, holding up two giant pink flamingo candle holders.

“They’d look better at Headquarters,” Graham said. “With this.”

He pointed to a giant fake floral display on the window beside him. The flowers were dusty, but the display itself was actually nicer than James originally gave it credit for. But a quick glance at the price tag took all the fun out of the idea of bringing it back and dropping it on the coffee table without explanation.

He pushed through a rack full of sweatshirts whose sleeves were taking up the small aisle between it and a rack of earrings. Contrary to his initial impression, about half the small store seemed to be made up of clothing racks filled with extremely nice pieces. James was generally fine with the fact that he had no fashion sense beyond staying clean and wearing mostly flannel shirts and blue jeans, but he felt somewhat out of his depth again in what was being advertised as Vintage Fashion Treasures. Not quite in the same way he had when walking through Delinsky’s back during that awful case, but like he was unfashionable in a totally different and equally inferior way.

Not right here with the sweatshirts, of course. They were mostly for the surrounding towns, big names written on them in peeling letters, along with the year each community was established. But the earrings on the rack beside them were carefully crafted, with the price tag to show it. And beyond the sweatshirts was a rack of beautiful dresses and another filled with vintage menswear. Graham was already looking through it, carefully considering some of the pieces. Even though an estimated forty percent of Graham’s closet consisted of terrible t-shirts from the shops along the Hampton Beach boardwalk, he had been a college professor for a long time. And he did logistical work for fundraisers for historical societies on his days away from the Foundation, so James knew he had excellent fashion sense outside of work.

James wasn’t a child. He owned a suit, and it was in good shape. And contrary to popular belief, he knew how to use an iron. He was in his mid-thirties after all. So he could look good when it mattered. But when his job more often than not left him on the dusty floor of an old cellar, he wasn’t going to waste money on good clothes.

And it turned out he didn’t have to feel bad anyway, because Graham had just migrated to the next clothing rack, which was filled with awful t-shirts on sale for four dollars apiece.

“Don’t,” James said.

“Don’t what?” Graham asked mildly as he pulled out a bright pink t-shirt featuring a picture of the Grimace with sloppily X’d out eyes. He looked it over appraisingly, then put it back.

“Those are fucking awful.”

Graham just shrugged and took out another. It had palm trees on a pale blue background, and in between each of them was some guy’s face, smiling over and over, both on the front and back of the shirt. Not a celebrity or anything, just some guy. “I need new work shirts,” Graham said.

“I’ll fire you. I don’t care.”

Graham put the t-shirt back, then pulled out one that said Titty Inspector in white print. “A classic.”

“I don’t care that we’re understaffed and I don’t care that we live together. I will fire your ass.”

He pulled out another as James looked desperately toward the front of the store, where Daphne was helping her customer with their credit card. The shirt in Graham’s hand now was extremely large with a majestic horse sketched on the front. “‘I saved a horse,’” Graham read from the back. “James, what do you think that means?”

“I’m not indulging you. You know what that means.”

Deliberately ignoring the next shirt Graham was already pulling off the rack, James went over to the next non-clothing shelf, which was filled with small plants, cheerful plant holders, and soothing little lights. One of these would look nice on his desk, even if it would inevitably get crushed under the folders the Foundation kept sending them. 

“Sorry to keep you gentlemen waiting,” Daphne said as she finally made her way back over to them. “What can I do for you? I believe I spoke to someone from your organization on the phone yesterday, correct?”

“Yes, that was us. We’re here about some potential activity that happened on this property in 1920,” James said as Graham pushed aside the sweatshirts to join them. “Do you happen to have any records from that time?”

Daphne shook her head. “No, I just bought the place in 2007,” she said. “And I think the building is from 1982, most of it at least. What kind of activity?”

Here went nothing. “Paranormal,” James said as Daphne’s eyes widened. “There were reports of unexplained phenomena on the property and we’re here to investigate them.”

“This was in 1920?”

“There was a backlog.”

“I would say so.”

Daphne didn’t look like she was about to toss them out. But as she slowly shook her head, James’s hopes for a quick finish to this case evaporated. “I have no connections to the building outside of the years I’ve been here,” she said. “I’m from Minnesota originally. But do you think it is haunted?”

“We think there’s reason to believe it was at some point,” Graham said.

“Hmmm…”

She looked around the crowded space thoughtfully. “I only planned some small Halloween displays,” she said, more to herself than to either of them. “But maybe if it has a history of being haunted, I could use that…”

James waited a second, then cleared his throat quietly. “Right,” Daphne said with a laugh. “Sorry, the proprietor’s brain, you know how it is. It never turns off!”

“Have you ever seen or heard anything odd here?”

“No, never.”

“Is there a cellar?”

“No.” Then she thought for a second as James’s plans evaporated in front of him. “Well, there might have been at one point, but it was filled in. I never had any access to it.”

“Do you have cameras?”

“All over.”

She pointed to a sign underneath a small security camera that proclaimed SMILE! YOU’RE ON CAMERA. “You’re welcome to the footage, though it deletes every seventy-two hours, so I don’t know how helpful it’ll be.”

Not helpful in the slightest. “Did you know anything about the property before this building went up?”

“No,” Daphne said lightly. “Nothing at all. But if it’s haunted…”

She trailed off again, looking around the shop. “I do have the property line map,” she said. “We needed to figure that out for the parking spaces, the dentist next door was arguing with me that I was a foot over the line onto her practice’s land. Which was bullshit, it’s just a foot. But I have those in my email. I can pull that up for you if you want to just wait a few minutes.”

“Could you email it to me when you have time?” James asked, pulling out his business card from the mess in his wallet. He handed it to her. “I don’t want to put you out when you’ve got customers.”

“No, it’ll just take a moment,” Daphne said, already on her phone.

James looked over at Graham, who looked as happy about it as he did. Daphne was humming over her phone as she scrolled, clearly in no hurry.

“Sorry, this will just be a second,” Daphne said. “If you gentlemen want to look around…”

She was still looking at her screen as she scrolled, frowned, then continued to scroll. If James had thought ahead like the captain he was supposed to be, he would have brought equipment so that he could scan the entire building and install cameras in the time Daphne was scanning her email. But of course he’d gone into this with nothing more powerful than his second-favorite pen for note-taking.

“I need to check in, anyway,” James said to Graham. “Mind if I just step outside?”

Graham was already back at the t-shirt rack. “Yeah, no problem.”

James stepped out of the shop. It was raining and humid outside, but that space had been rapidly closing in on him and the rain on his face felt good as he walked over to the van and climbed inside.

Amelia and Madelyn were out checking in on a new case, with Bradley on comms with them, so he called Gabriella directly.

“Do you have the property map?” he asked her after explaining the situation. “The owner is trying to pull up the modern one, but I bet the parcel was completely different back then.”

“Yeah, I just saw it,” Gabriella said. “Hang on.”

He felt a little guilty remembering how he snipped at her last time for trying to help, even though she’d said she was completely over it. He was better than that. It couldn’t ever happen again.

“Found it,” she said seconds later. “Want me to send you a picture or are you coming back soon?”

“She’s looking through years of email to find hers, we may never come back.”

His phone buzzed against his ear with an incoming message. “Sent,” she said.

“You’re the best, Gabs,” James said. “How’s everything there?”

“Fine,” she replied. “Amelia and Madelyn are on their way back and I’m going to interview for Viscoloid later.”

“Just interviews?”

“Just one interview. The night watchman is meeting me at Panera.”

“That works. Don’t go back to the location, not without comms.”

“Did you and Bradley, like, make plans to both tell me that?” Gabriella said with a laugh. “I won’t. I won’t even leave Panera until he’s gone if that makes you feel better.”

“It does, so do that.”

“Roger.”

Now he laughed. “I’ll check in once we get that map. If the property line is different, we might need to stay out longer.”

He wasn’t sure if he hoped for that or not. It would be more time trudging around Leominster in the rain, but it would hopefully wrap this case up faster.

So then they could move on to the next vintage case. And the next one after that. Forever and ever, amen.

“Oh, Bradley found the family,” Gabriella said. “Nobody is in the Northeast anymore, let alone Leominster. But we have the number for someone who appears to be a granddaughter. She’s a little older and lives in Alabama.”

“Great, thanks,” James said. “I can take that call this afternoon.”

“Bradley said he’ll do it if you’re busy.”

“Not a chance in hell, but tell him thanks for me.”

He hung up and went back into the building, where Graham now had a bag of clothes he’d clearly just purchased. James gave the brown paper bag a pointed look and shook his head, but Graham just smiled.

“She sent me the map,” he said.

James waved goodbye to Daphne, who was behind the counter again. She waved back, thanking them and reminding them to send any ghost information her way. The rain was still pounding down outside as they left her shop and walked across the small parking lot to their van and James was thoroughly soaked by the time he got in.

“Let’s just ignore the contents of that bag for a second,” he said as Graham placed it in the middle seat of the van, then got out and slid into the passenger seat. “And the fucking atrocity that is your wardrobe. Gabriella sent me the map from LeRoux’s files. You got the map from Daphne?”

“Yeah,” Graham said, pulling out his phone. “Hang on.”

Unlike Daphne, Graham had it up in a matter of seconds. James got out the map that Gabriella sent, and they held their phones side by side, comparing them. 

“Yeah, this is maybe a third the size of LeRoux’s case’s parcel,” James said. “That lines up with what Gabriella was saying. But I can’t see…come on.”

James opened the door and got out, Graham reluctantly following. He was immediately soaked again, water pouring down the back of his coat and down his neck as he walked to the sidewalk and stood in front of Daphne’s shop. He pulled out his phone, shielding it from the rain with his hand. 

“Look,” he said as Graham did the same. “The river back there runs along only part of the property on yours, but it’s across the entire thing here. So that means the property line must have been…”

He followed the small river in front of them with his finger, tracing through the rain to where it turned. The dentist’s office was on the other side of the shop, still along the river, but it turned and moved away from the auto body shop beside Daphne’s. “There,” he said, pointing to the auto body. “That’s where the field would have been.”

It wasn’t a huge parcel of land, but based on what Gabriella had said, the farm had been small, if it even was a farm. James was having his doubts on that. But there was a large parking lot of scrap behind the auto shop. And Daphne’s shop was on the part where the house had been. House. Field. Gift shop. Auto body.

“We’ll need to get some readings from them if we can,” James said.

“Right now?”

James turned as water spilled down his face. “Do you think they’d let us in the door?”

***

As a gracious and kind captain, James let Graham shower first when they got back to Headquarters. He stayed by the door on an old bath towel, updating Gabriella and Bradley, who were at the top of the stairs. Madelyn and Amelia were on their way back as well, but – as Bradley had told him – they’d been smart enough to pack umbrellas on the way out. 

“I’ll call the auto body when I’m back in my office,” James said through chattering teeth. It had been so hot earlier, how was he so cold now? “And the cousin. You got her number?”

Bradley threw another towel down the stairs. “Dry off, Jesus Christ,” he said. “Yeah. It’s on your desk. You’re sure-”

“I’ll call.”

James took the towel gratefully, scrubbing it over his hair. It made a minimal difference, but the chill was slightly lessened as he draped it around his neck. 

“It’s not really a farm, is it?” Gabriella asked.

“No, more of a large yard,” James said. “If I had to guess, it was a cute nickname that the Foundation took seriously when they filed it away unfinished for whatever reason. But if there’s no activity in the shop, then maybe the reason for it is in the auto body.”

“I kind of get the feeling that I didn’t get all of LeRoux’s notes,” Gabriella said as James shifted squishily on the towel under his feet. “They said they were when I was at the Foundation, but they seem incomplete.”

“Maybe she wasn’t too thorough?” Bradley suggested.

“Based on what’s here, I doubt that.”

James had taken his jacket off, but the t-shirt underneath was clinging to his skin and drops of water were sliding down the small of his back and unpleasantly into his jeans. Nobody was keeping him from squelching his way up the stairs and down to the one of the bedrooms to strip off everything until Graham was done with his own fast shower, except that he didn’t want to soak whichever bedroom he ended up in. And he wanted to get this information from the team now so he could get straight to work once he was dry.

“The files I do have are meticulous,” Gabriella continued, her finger grazing lightly, maybe unconsciously, over the scar on her face. “She used shorthand for some of it, so I’ve been translating that. But some of it seems to be transcribed already, like she never got back to some of her notes after the interviews. But even with the shorthand pages, it still seems incomplete.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Bradley said as James tried to keep his teeth from chattering too loudly. “There’s no one in the records office now, and they’ve had things weirdly split between the archives and the records for years for what can’t be good reasons. So maybe the rest of her files are in the other department and- will you please just go dry off?”

The last part was snapped over at James. “My options are to soak the carpets or take my clothes off right here,” he pointed out. “Up to you.”

It was fairly satisfying how red Bradley turned at that. But before he was forced to make that decision, the bathroom door opened and Graham came out. James hurried toward it, leaving only a couple wet footprints he’d definitely remember to clean up after.

---

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 15