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“Full moon this coming Thursday,” said Monica with enthusiasm to Erin as they sat down in Bonita’s Bakery and Tea Shop. Their weekly fix of tea, scones, jam and Devonshire cream was more than welcome after the grueling, but financially successful three day Christmas in July weekend. Haggis was looking very cheerful in Tuesday’s colors: Red leash with matching collar. He lay down under the table. He was used to the routine, and knew exactly what to do before his treat arrived.
“Oh really, replied Erin frowning, “and what are we going to do under this full moon? Dance naked under the stars, create a blazing fire, and burn effigies of people we don’t like?”
Monica had no time to reply. Bonita had arrived. “What can I get you gals today? The usual?” asked Bonita, a superb baker, and chef who, with her husband Guy had renovated the old barn on the main street of Coppin’s Locks and had transformed it into a bakery and tea shop that was rarely empty.
“Oh yes, the usual thanks,” answered Erin, “one pot of English breakfast tea, one pot of Earl Grey, scones with all the trimmings, and a scone for my wee pal down here.”
Bonita didn’t even have to look under the table. She knew that Haggis would be lying there, pink tongue hanging out just waiting for his treat. He was always welcome. Thanks to Monica and Erin who had understood the “look” and atmosphere that Bonita wanted in her establishment, the place had been fitted out with lovely old pine and butternut tables, an eclectic collection of tea cups, tea pots, creamers and sugar bowls. Each had a history, and a story, and no two were alike. The original wide pine barn floors had been sanded and varathaned, and the ceiling beams above had been cleaned and left in all their massive glory. Even the ladder nailed to the wall that had once led to the hay loft had been left as a conversation piece. Outside, large maple trees let dappled sunshine onto the brick patio, and the patrons enjoyed the shade and sun as they sipped and ate.
“No, we are not dancing naked under the full moon,” laughed Monica when Bonita had gone. “We are going to be brave, and go over to the old hospital in Keysville, and do some snooping.”
“Oh, I can hardly wait. I hoped you had forgotten all about that. Our date with the dark and the rats,” said Erin in a tone laced in sarcasm. “Remember, he who laughs last, laughs longest. I may have the last laugh when you slip in some slimy, murky water. And I suppose Patrick is going to come along and encourage us as we sort of break and enter?”
“Gone!” whispered Monica loudly. “He will be gone from Tuesday morning till Friday afternoon at a conference in New York. Perfect timing eh?”
Erin could see that Monica was like a runaway horse. She was determined to get into that old hospital, and nothing was going to stop her. “Right, I guess I have no choice. What time?”
“It is completely dark by 10:30. We will need rubber boots, flashlights, some knapsacks, baseball or gardening hats, gloves, coffee, snacks and....”
“Are we going for an hour or a week? Should I bring a tent too? Some marshmallows?” quizzed Erin arranging tea cups and plates.
“We have to be prepared,” answered Monica, “and I am assuming that the rats, snakes and raccoons have all gone, but you never know. We need to get into some of the offices. I think we should focus on the maternity ward since that’s where Enid Black worked.”
“Listen, I know you are determined to go snooping in the hospital, but I want to do some digging into that weird set up at Deerfield Cottage. I may need your help.” Erin had shown Monica the torn scrap of paper with HELP ME on it. Both girls had agreed that the situation did indeed need some action, and they were both keen.
“What’s your plan?” asked Monica waving at Shakira from Shakira’s New Age Emporium down the street. Shakira—real name Donna Riley—was a wealthy businesswoman from Boston who had given up the corporate life, had moved to Coppin’s Locks, and had transformed herself from corporate whiz into new age middle age expert. She knew about chakras, energy flow, crystals, tarot cards, and spirituality in all forms. She was harmless, amusing and had some wonderful stories about corporate big shots that came out after a few glasses of wine.
“I want to get back into that house, and unlock a window or door so I can go in and snoop. I am convinced that there is something wrong going on up there, said Erin slipping a small piece of scone to Haggis.
“Do they ever leave the house, the couple I mean?” asked Monica.
“More to the point, do they ever leave it together? I noticed a bag from Fred’s vegetable and butcher shop in their kitchen. Maybe I should pay him a visit?” suggested Erin, “but I have no idea how to find out their shopping schedule apart from coming right out and asking which is kind of suspect.”
“If I know you, you’ll think of something,” said Monica, “so why don’t I drop you off at Fred’s place when we leave here, and you can see what he says? Then once you know which days the house might be empty, we can figure out how to get inside and go see poor old Mr. Andrews.”
Monica and Erin finished their tea and scones, and Monica drove up the street and left Erin and Haggis off at Fred’s Vegetable and Butcher Shop. It had been a fixture at the corner of Main and Pond St. for decades, and Fred, like his father and grandfather before him, prided himself in sourcing local fruits, vegetables, and flowers along with meat selections that had to pass his discerning eye. Shopping at Fred’s was an experience far nicer than going to a large grocery store, and the green awning, jingling bell, and old wooden floors added to its popularity and old world charm
“Miss Erin,” said Fred bending over to pat Haggis, “what can I do for you today?”
“I think I might like some chicken breasts, some sausage, and I’ll go have a look at the veggies at the back.”
A few minutes later Erin was back at the counter with her string shopping bag full of onions, potatoes, and peas from local farms. Her meat was wrapped in brown waxed paper and tied with string as it had been done for years, and would continue for years to come.
“I just don’t know how people find the time to go shopping these days,” Erin exclaimed digging out her wallet from the depths of her huge purse. “Life is so busy these days isn’t it? I recall in Ireland, most of the women would go shopping every day, or every other day.”
“Every day?” answered Fred counting out change, “and why would they do that?”
“Well, if you didn’t have a fridge, you had to buy your meat and fish fresh every day, and your bread too. In the country some of the bakeries baked every day for the housewives, and day old buns and rolls were always on sale.”
“Well, most people in Coppins come in here once a week and stock up.”
“Now, I was in a house the other day, let me think who was it? Oh, yes, it was Michael and Janine Page and I was checking out some of the antiques in the house for our store. Well, it wasn’t their antiques. The house and contents belong to old Mr. Andrews. Do you know them? Anyway, I don’t know how they cope with their lives, and his, and the shopping, cleaning and caring. Such a huge responsibility. When would they find time to shop I wonder?”
“I know them,” answered Fred taking the bait, and slicing a piece of scrap steak in small pieces and tossing them to Haggis who was wild with delight, “and they come in twice a week like clockwork. Mr. Andrews used to come in himself. Did so for years and years. Then he had a stroke, and the Page couple stepped in. I hear he is in a wheelchair.”
“Yes, he is. I saw them all the other day during Christmas in July. Now, I might just go back up and see him this week. Since you know what days they come in, can you tell me so that I don’t miss them, and go to visit on the wrong day?”
“Monday and Thursdays are their shopping days,” replied Fred putting on a clean white apron. “Excellent clients, even if not the friendliest.”
“Is that right?” asked Erin trying to sound light. “Do they ever bring old Mr. Andrews in here with them?”
“Not for a long time. He used to come in and pick his own groceries himself. He had simple tastes: meat, vegetables, fruit, and he loved salads. I’d get him Boston lettuce in specially. Now, between you and me,” Fred said leaning a little closer to Erin over the counter and looking around to see if anybody was listening, “since the Page’s have started the shopping themselves, they have been buying filet mignon, thick steaks, imported cheeses and candy. Pretty fancy foods.”
“The grocery bills must be very high,” said Erin raising her eyebrows.
“Well, they come in, shop, charge it and leave.”
“Charge it to whom?”
“All the bills go right to the lawyer, Mr. Mark Patterson here in town.”
I bet they are good clients thought Erin putting her heavy bag over her shoulder and walking out the door. I bet they are buying things for themselves, and eating like royalty up there while old Mr. Andrews pays all the bills.”
***
“I’ve been watching the weather reports for our late night hospital visit,” mumbled Monica who was unwrapping tiny silver tea spoons from an estate sale, “and things look good: Full moon, no rain, and warm temperatures.”
“Oh goodie,” answered Erin with mock enthusiasm, “I can’t say I am exactly looking forward to it, but at least the weather is in our favor.”
“We’ll be fine. Just fine,” chided Monica though even she felt a little trepidation at the thought of going into a deserted building with crumbling walls, and heaven knows what living inside. However, the die was cast. They would venture forth and do their best.
The jingle jangle of the brass bell by the front door caught their attention and they looked up to see Jerry from The Thirsty Toad Pub walk in. “Hello ladies,” he said in his English accent that hadn’t faded one bit since his arrival in Coppin’s Locks years ago. “I trust you had a good and profitable weekend during Christmas in July.”
“We sure did,” answered Monica enthusiastically, “and wasn’t the weather just perfect. I looked over your way a few times, and you were going a mile a minute all three days.”
“I was exhausted by the end of Monday afternoon. Never so happy to close that front door and go home for a well-earned rest,” replied the man who had bought the crumbling old building on Main St., brought it back to life, and had decorated it like an old English pub right out of the Yorkshire Dales.
“Are you here to shop?” asked Erin, “We got some terrific old wooden signs the other day from Mr. Andrews at Deerfield Cottage. Do you know him?”
“No, I’m not really here to shop, but it is funny you should mention old Mr. Andrews. That’s why I’m here. The other day on Christmas in July Saturday I was serving customers outside, and he arrived with those two people. Caregivers I imagine.”
“They were here too,” said Monica.
“Well, first of all I haven’t seen him in about a year,” said Jerry walking over to a beautiful harvest table that had seen at least one hundred years’ worth of meals laid upon it. “He used to come into the pub a few times a week for a meal or a beer. Nice fellow. Never spoke too much and kept to himself. He was never any trouble at all. Then I saw him less and less, and even though we were not close, I worried a little bit about him. Anyway, long story short, I was stunned when I saw him last weekend. He was skin and bones, and I guess he had had a stroke recently. Very sad.”
Monica and Erin looked at each other. Jerry noticed. “Have I said something wrong?” he asked.
“No, not at all,” said Erin walking towards him, “in fact you have said everything right.” Erin went on to tell Jerry about her trip up to Deerfield Cottage to get the antiques, and how she felt uneasy about the visit, and especially about old Mr. Andrews mouthing the word ‘help’ when he was at the window.
“That’s weird,” agreed Jerry, “sounds like something odd is going on up there.”
“Well, that’s not all,” said Erin adding the story of her encounter with the trio on the weekend, and the HELP ME note pressed into her hand.
“Well, I wasn’t going to say anything,” Jerry continued, “in case it was my fuddled brain working overtime on a three day weekend, but I made a special trip out on the patio when I saw old Mr. Andrews sitting there in his wheel chair. The Pages had gone inside to order beers and food. When I saw the old guy, we gave me a crooked smile, and then he grabbed my arm. He grunted a bit, and when I looked at him, I am sure he was trying to say ‘help me’ over and over. The Pages arrived just then, and I went back inside.”
“Well, he is clearly trying to get help anyway he can,” said Monica grasping her cane and standing up to stretch her leg. “Erin wants to get back into the house and see Mr. Andrews on his own,” said Monica. “She knew they shopped at Fred’s Grocery and he said that the Page’s do their shopping Monday and Thursday without fail. We are going to try to figure out a way to get into the old man’s house when they are out.”
“Ha,” laughed Jerry, “I knew that I had come to the right place. I knew that if something was wrong in this town, you two would be the ones to fix it.”
“Have you got any brilliant ideas?” asked Erin. “We don’t want to be nailed for breaking and entering, so how are we going to get into the house?”
“Let me work on that,” said Jerry with a wink. “I know somebody who could get in and out of Fort Knox with a pin and a nail file! I will call you soon, and we will set something up.”
After Jerry had left, Erin felt a surge of relief. Even though the thought of the hospital trip the next day was filling her with dread, at least the dilemma and problem with Mr. Andrews was moving towards some sort of solution.
***
“Are you ready?” whispered Monica to Erin at 9.00pm the next night as she stuffed a long handled flashlight into her knapsack.
“Why are you whispering?” laughed Erin. “We are not at the hospital yet.”
“Practicing,” replied Monica feeling silly and patting Haggis who was wondering why his two best friends were packing knapsacks, an activity that always had him just the teeniest bit worried.
“When do you want to leave?” asked Erin grabbing a bottle of water, and four cookies.
“Anytime now. We should take your car I think,” said Monica, “because it is quieter and smaller. The Land Rover is due for a transmission overhaul, and I certainly don’t want to get stuck on some back road or at the hospital with a breakdown.”
By the time they got to Keysville, the sky was black as pitch, but the full moon illuminated houses, fields, and buildings along the way. Neither of them said much, and Erin suspected that Monica’s bravado was waning. The hospital was on the outskirts of Keysville down a tarmac road that had probably been well cared for at one time, but was now nothing but ruts and weeds. Erin drove her Mini past the massive building, and hid it in a tall patch of weeds.
“This is it,” whispered Monica tensely.
“Now, you can whisper,” laughed Erin grabbing her knapsack from behind her on the passenger seat. She stuffed her unruly red mass into a ponytail, Monica smoothed her short blond locks, and they both pulled baseball caps over their heads. Erin put the car keys under her seat, and both girls got out of the car and quietly shut the doors. There was no turning back.
Despite the darkness of the night, the light from the full moon gave the girls a perfect view of the massive building. It was certainly past its prime. Doors hung at angles, window glass was broken, brickwork was crumbling and weeds were everywhere. A low wind had risen and it was making unearthly moaning sounds as it wound its way in and out of the broken building through doors and windows.
Monica went first pushing tall plants out of the way with her long flashlight. She was aiming for a broken back door that had clearly had an aggressive visitor in the past. The stench hit the girls as soon as they stepped over the broken glass that lay at the bottom of the door frame. The smell was a mixture of stagnant water and something rotten like old meat.
“That is disgusting,” mumbled Erin.
“Unreal,” answered Monica putting her gloved hand over her mouth and feeling like she needed to retch. She swept her flashlight back and forth. It really was something out of a horror film. The ceilings dripped water that plopped into large puddles in the hall and rooms, the lights had been pulled from the walls, the paint was peeling and cracked, and old gurneys and wheelchairs lay broken in the hallway. Inside it was pitch black and deathly silent except for the drip-drip of water on the wet, slimy, slippery floors.
A sign hung above Monica’s head, and she shone her flashlight up towards it. The different floors and wards were written on it though age had made most of them illegible. “Maternity, second floor,” she whispered to Erin.
“Where are the darn stairs?”
“Over there, just past the offices.”
Suddenly both girls heard a shuffling noise. They froze. Then a low growl came from a room to their left. Monica put her finger to her lips and walked across the hall towards the room. She stopped at the doorway and shone her flashlight into the blackness and moved it left to right. Erin stood behind her speechless with fear. Monica’s flashlight stopped. She pointed with her hand. In the far corner of the room was a dog. It was the skinniest, saddest mongrel that either girl had ever seen.
“Oh, my heavens,” whispered Erin, “that poor dog must be starving. We have to do something.”
“Get the sandwich out of my knapsack,” said Monica, “For now that’s the best we can do.”
The dog was torn between being frightened, and being desperate for food when he smelled the ham and cheese. Monica threw the food towards the poor creature, and he lunged at it and devoured it. Erin then threw her sandwich towards the dog, and once again, he grabbed it and wolfed it down in a second.
“Ok, excitement over,” whispered Monica, “let’s go upstairs.”
The girls made their way down the hallways towards an arrow with letters pointing up that read ‘airs’, the damp having peeled the paint off the rest of the word. Just as Monica put her foot on the first stair she heard another sound. She froze and listened. It came again. It was a chattering sound. She flashed her light back along the hall but the little dog was nowhere in sight. She put her foot on the second step, and heard the sound again, but this time it was joined by a few other growling and chattering noises. It sounded like it was coming from above their heads. Monica and Erin shone their lights upwards and looked up to see five bandit faces looking down at them.
“Raccoons!” whispered Erin, “and they don’t look very cute and friendly. What should we do?”
Monica took her walking stick, and banged the stairs. The raccoons stood their ground, and the largest one was baring his or her teeth in a nasty growl. Monica banged her stick again, and the group backed off a little.
“Go! Get out of here,” yelled Monica trying to sound braver than she felt. Erin joined in and began to wave her arms, and shone her flashlight into the bright little eyes above her. Slowly the girls moved up the stairs yelling and banging and eventually the family of raccoons decided they had had enough. They turned tail and scampered into a large hole in the wall. Monica grabbed an old chair and a broken card table at the top of the stairs, and pushed the table against the hole, and anchored it with the heavy chair.
“That should keep them at bay for a while,” she said grimly looking around. Like the main floor, the second floor hall offered nothing more than peeling paint, dripping water, and broken equipment scattered about. Monica and Erin walked down the hall looking into large rooms where tiny cots were lined up in rows. A once colorful mural, now faded and almost indiscernible, was painted on the wall of the largest room. Half way down the hall, was a room that had clearly been an office. Old fashioned style wooden desks, many tipping over with three legs; heavy oak chairs on wheels, and massive filing cabinets sat before them like an ad for office furniture from forty years or more ago.
“You check out this file cabinet, and I’ll look in this one,” suggested Monica moving towards open an old metal filing cabinet.
“What are we looking for exactly?” asked Erin putting her knapsack on a desk that still had three thick china coffee mugs on it.
“I don’t really know,” answered Monica, “Enid was up to something, and that is why she left the hospital before the final day it closed. But she also came back here looking for something. Maybe we’ll know what it was when we see it.”
The metal file cabinets were dented and rusty and both girls had to brace a foot against the bottom, and yank hard to open them. Inside were old brown files dotted with water marks, and mould and the papers inside stuck together. The file folder tabs gave a clue to their contents, and most were patient files, employee assessments, and day to day memos.
“Not much of any consequence here,” sighed Monica pulling open the second file cabinet drawer.
Erin’s file cabinet had been emptied more thoroughly decades ago, and there was nothing in the second and third drawers. She began to walk towards a closet in the wall. It too opened with protest, the hinges thick with rust. Inside were cracked buckets, mops with rotten sponge ends, brooms, and broken bottles of cleaning products. In the corner was a box of rags. Erin pushed it out into the room with her foot knowing that it would have been the ideal place for a rat or mouse nest. She pushed it over, and sprinkles of black mouse dirt scattered. She shoved the old rags to the side, and that is when a small wooden box rolled onto the floor. It was the size and shape of an old wooden recipe box, the kind that was favored before the internet made recipe searches less of a leisurely stroll down Grandma’s cooking memory lane, and more of a two second dash. Notes and index cards fell out of the box, stuck together with damp and age. Erin collected them, placed them on the table, and called Monica over to look.
“Look, this card says, ‘MGY Morrisville Boy June 22, 1973 Delivery: postponed.’”
“I wonder what they mean by delivery postponed, and why on earth would a birth record be in a recipe box on a recipe card? Hardly the way a hospital operates.” asked Erin spreading the cards and notes on the table. Slowly, she began to get the feeling again; that tingle that alerted her when something was not quite right. “Monica, I think that this box might be worth taking and having a really good look at. The other files seem to be just regular hospital stuff. I am getting that tingling feeling again, and it is rarely wrong.”
“I agree, I think we need to take that box and especially if you are getting twitches and twinges. Put it in a plastic bag just in case there are fingerprints on it. Now, let’s get out of here; the damp is chilling me to the bone.”
“I wonder if that dog will let us take him home? He or she is starving and scared,” commented Erin closing up the box and placing it in a plastic bag, and then into her knapsack.
“Needs a good meal, a flea bath, and a trim,” answered Monica as she began to move down the hall swinging her flashlight left and right. The raccoons could be heard moving about in between the walls and Erin couldn’t get away from their entrance hole and down the stairs fast enough.
“I was actually thinking of getting a dog,” answered Erin rushing down the stairs, “but thought that Haggis might get jealous.”
“Haggis might enjoy a playmate,” answered Monica as they came to the downstairs hall. She moved towards the room where the dog had been lying on the old mattress. Two eyes shone back as her flashlight found the dog. His tail thumped timorously, and he cocked his head to the left as if to say, “Please can I come home, is it ok?” He was, from what the girls could see a mix of terrier and a small poodle, but his hair was so matted and dirty that it was hard to tell with certainty. Erin crouched down, and the dog slowly, with tail between his legs began to walk towards her. She let him sniff her hand, and he moved closer. She gently patted his head, and then moved her hand down to his thin back and shoulders. Within seconds he had moved against her, and she could feel him shivering.
“That’s ok boy,” she said quietly, “You are alright now, and nobody will hurt you.”
She stood up, and they girls walked out the door into the sweet smelling night air. The little dog followed, and they slowly made their way down to the hidden car. Erin opened the back door, arranged an old blanket on the seat, and the mongrel jumped in as if he had been in the car hundreds of times.
“This little guy has obviously been somebody’s pet, he knows the ropes for sure,” commented Erin tossing the two knapsacks into the tiny trunk. She found her keys under the seat, and was just about to put them into the ignition when both girls were blinded by a light in front of their eyes. Erin immediately reached cross and grabbed Monica’s arm. Neither girl could speak.
“Get out!” demanded a male voice, “Slowly!”
The stray dog growled in the back seat. Erin began to pull her door handle, but was able to reach for the long, heavy flashlight sitting between the seats. Both girls got out of the car and once outside the car, Monica came around to stand beside Erin who was hiding the flashlight behind her back. The light from the man’s flashlight was still blinding them.
“Put that light down,” croaked Erin trying to sound braver than she really felt, “we can’t see a darn thing.”
Slowly the light was lowered, and the girls saw a grizzled old man standing in front of them. He had a full beard, and was wearing combat fatigues and army boots.
“Now, suppose you gals tell me why you were snooping around here?” he said leaning up against the car and turning off his flashlight.
“Well, we wanted to get inside the building, and check it out,” said Monica.
“Now, ladies, I may be old, and grey, and maybe I don’t have a university education, but I am no fool. What on earth would two ladies like you be wanting inside a deserted, smelly old building? Dangerous too. What are your names anyhow?”
Monica and Erin were not sure how much they could or should tell this man. “Ok, look, I am Erin, and this is Monica. We are not here to break or damage this place. Now, who are you?”
“Name is Jacob Anderson. I live just around the corner. I was a security guard here until it closed down. Now the town gets me to come by every night just to make sure the local kids aren’t here getting into trouble, setting fires, and vandalizing. But, this place is so bad even they don’t want to come here.”
“So you were here when this place closed?” asked Monica.
“Yes, sad day that. But the hospital was out of date, and inefficient.”
“Were there funny or strange things going on around here at that time?” said Erin beginning to relax a little.
“Like what?”
“Dunno? That is why we are here. Did you ever see or hear anything that seemed abnormal?”
Jacob thought for a few minutes, and stroked his grey beard. “Well, for about six months before the hospital closed there was an awful lot of activity here at night when most people were asleep. I never thought too much about it back then, but now that you are asking.”
“Can you give us more details?” asked Erin feeling a tinge of excitement.
“Well, usually the hospital went pretty quiet after around 10:00pm except for the occasional ambulance of course. My job was to walk around the building, and sheds, and check ‘em. Nothing much ever happened around here. The kids threw toilet paper in the trees at Hallowe’en, and roamed around and smoked in the woods over there on long hot summer nights, but nothing worse than that.”
“So, tell us about the night time activity that was strange,” prompted Erin.
“About twice a month around two or three in the morning, a car would drive into the back here and park. Then a couple would get out, and go in that rear door over there. Nobody but the staff and suppliers used that. A short while later the couple would come out carrying something. I never saw what it was.”
“That is weird,” agreed Monica. “Did you hear about the dead baby that was found a few weeks ago in Coppin’s Locks?”
“Oh yes. This whole town was talking about it. But what’s it got to do with this place?”
“Well,” answered Monica, “it stands to reason that if this was the regional hospital, then perhaps the baby was born here. We were told that there were files that had been left here. That is what we were looking for. A long shot but....”
“What are you two? Cops?” asked the old man.
“We often help Police Chief Van Dyck in Coppin’s Locks with investigations when he is short on time and staff. We have been successful solving mysteries in the past,” answered Erin, “Did you know a nurse called Enid Black? She was head of the maternity ward?”
“Oh, I knew her. She resigned before the hospital closed. Nobody knew why she up and left so fast. She never explained. Here one day and gone the next. Very strange.”
“Uh, look, can we leave now?” asked Monica. “As you can see we mean no harm, and we are certainly not vandals.”
“Sure, I guess so, but I wouldn’t be creeping inside that old place again. It is nasty in there.”
“It certainly is,” agreed Erin, “there’s a family of raccoons on the second floor.”
“Almost impossible to get rid of them. There was a little dog in there a while back, and I tried to get him to come out for some food, but he was afraid of me I guess.”
“Was he short, with curly hair?” asked Erin.
“Yup, that’s the one: Short, curly, and very dirty hair.”
“We have him,” admitted Monica with a smile as she indicated the back seat of the car. “We gave him some food, and we will take him home, clean him up and try to find him a good home.”
“Ah, I am glad. I would take him but I think he is afraid of men. I worried about that poor little guy. He wouldn’t survive in there in the winter.”
“Thanks for the information,” said Erin opening her car door. “You have been very helpful. If we need to speak to you again where can we find you?”
“I live just up the street, 56 Melrose Lane. I’d be happy to help you in any way possible.”
On a whim, Erin asked, “Jacob, were there any other staff members or nurses who made an impression on you? Perhaps somebody that, well, I don’t know, seemed to be acting strange at all.”
Jacob was thoughtful for a moment, and went back to stroking his beard. “Well, I did notice that on the nights that the couple arrived, there were always the two same two maternity nurses on duty.”
“Do you remember who they were?” asked Monica.
“I didn’t know their names, but one had a very distinctive face. It was unusually long. She wasn’t a pretty woman but I remembered her very narrow face, and small eyes.”
Erin was thinking hard. She had seen somebody recently with a face like that. A woman who Erin thought had a ruthless and unkind streak in her.
Two hours later, Erin and Monica, both exhausted, but pleased with their night of sleuthing, had their feet up, their pajamas on, and hot cups of tea in hand. Erin had gently trimmed off chunks of matted hair from the little stray in the bath and the black dog was slowly transformed into a white dog. He felt so renewed and refreshed by the warm bath, the hair cut, and plate of food that he dashed about the house chasing and teasing Haggis. The animal was clearly a young dog so Haggis felt no aggression, but pretended to be above such silly puppy games.
“Haggis is trying to be so cool,” laughed Erin, “but I think that he is probably delighted to have a friend to play with. As for me, I am too tired to think. I am going to bed, and thank heavens you organized Joanne to open the store tomorrow. It’s 5:00am in the morning! C’mon Scruffy, you can sleep with me.”
“So, his name is Scruffy, is it?” asked Monica turning lights out, and checking doors.
“It suits him,” said Erin, “but he sure looks a lot better than he did before. I will take him to the vet as soon as I can find a minute.”
“Big date night tomorrow,” reminded Monica.
“Oh, I had almost forgotten,” said Erin picking up Scruffy.
“Liar,” said Monica laughing. “I know you! You’ve been excited about your date with Wickens for days!”
The two girls felt refreshed when they finally surfaced the next day. Scruffy had slept through the night in an old dog bed that had once belonged to Haggis, and the two dogs ran outside in a frenzy barking with delight.”
“I’d say forget about trying to find a home for Scruffy,” suggested Monica, “I think he and Haggis have become good pals already.”
“Well, he has certainly been trained somewhere along the way. He understands commands like sit, and stay. He cleaned up pretty well didn’t he? Once his matted hair was cut out, his coat was really very nice.”
“Yes, and he’s a friendly little fellow. You can borrow one of Haggis’s collars and leashes for him. Listen, we need to put this recipe box someplace safe. Maybe at the store? I don’t think Patrick would really approve of our late night snooping at the hospital.”
“That’s for sure, but it’s easy to hide the box; how am I going to explain the dog? He’s a little harder to hide?”
“Yes, you’re right. Maybe just say you found him wandering the streets, or that he was at the beach near your house.”
“That works for me,” agreed Erin picking up Scruffy and walking to her car. “See you at the store in a minute, I am just going to go see Jerry.”
Jerry was wiping tables getting ready for the lunch time rush, and waved Erin over as soon as he saw her.
“Listen, I am going to try to get into Mr. Andrew’s house this Monday. Can your friend get over to the house and open a door for me?”
Jerry looked around before answering, “That will be fine. I will send him over at 2:00 exactly, and he will be out of there by 2.15 if not earlier. He will try to open the front door. Nobody around here has sturdy locks on their doors. A kid could break into most of the houses in this town.”
“Ah, who is this person?” asked Erin.
“Can’t tell you. Sorry. We might both get into trouble so the fewer people who know that I am organizing a break in the better. I am doing it for poor old Mr. Andrews. Listen, do me a favor and let me know what happens ok?”
“Will do,” agreed Erin turning to go.
“Hey, that’s a cute little doggie,” said Jerry noticing Scruffy. “Where did you get him?”
“Ah, let’s just say he was one of the spoils of war,” laughed Erin.
“You going to keep him?” asked Jerry wiping off the bar counter.
“I have no choice. Haggis has decided that Scruffy is his new best friend, so yes, I think he will be staying.”
