with Miranda until he found out for sure. And even if there wasn’t anything missing, it wouldn’t hurt to put extra locks on the doors, or consider moving the collection to a more secure warehouse with more modern methods of safekeeping.
The more Reginald mulled it over, the surer he was that someone had been entering surreptitiously. They may have been staying in the house – in one of the upstairs rooms or basement. That would account for Figgs’ feeling he was being watched. Reginald had no doubt a stranger roaming the grounds could account for changing a residence’s atmosphere.
“ Yes, sir.”
“ Is that it? Just the pipe?”
“ No, sir, there’s more to the incident. The pipe had tobacco in it – burned tobacco and when I touched it … it was warm – as if someone had been smokin’ it. And the smell was in the room, sir. That smell of Mr. Perry’s favorite blend. I even checked Mr. Perry’s supply – the one he kept in his credenza. Sure enough someone was using it up.”
“ But why didn’t you tell me? Or call the authorities? They could have dealt with an intruder.”
Reginald waited for a response. Figgs evaded his eyes and looked around the room. He covered Reginald’s hand and whispered his response.
“ Because no one can help. What was here weren’t human.”
Reginald took a deep breath. There was a chill running up his arm beginning at the exact spot Figgs had taken hold. The tingle reminded Reginald of the old nursery rhyme about a mouse running up a clock. It felt that way – as if evil traveled on small, fleet feet.
He quickly pulled his hand back. He realized how it seemed, but he had no choice. He didn’t want it to be held – not when the touch was producing such an unnatural sensation. He ran his other hand up and down the affected area. He was as uncomfortable about the direction the conversation was taking as he was about the chill now running throughout his body. Reginald remembered that there were no such things as ghosts. He was being as ridiculous as Miranda. He reassured himself that it was safe to continue even though his gut told him it was a bad idea. He pressed on thoroughly vested in discovering the rest.
He still rubbed the spot that felt as if an ice cube were taped to it. He turned his attention from it to Figgs, who was gazing out a window. He tried hard to discern any tell-tale signs that Figgs was drunk or crazy. Neither was apparent and that left the possibility that what Figgs was saying was the truth. He considered apologizing for recoiling from Figgs' touch, but decided against it. It looked as if Figgs had come to terms with it and was at peace with the slight.
Figgs hung his head, not sure if Reginald wanted him to continue. He broke the dreadful silence.
“ I know how it sounds, sir, but what I’m sayin’ is God’s honest truth.”
Reginald needed to amend the situation so that the tenuous connection with Figgs wasn’t severed. He leaned forward earnest in his attempt to hear more.
“ Please understand that I’m only trying to assimilate what you’ve said. I am not rejecting it. There are so many questions.”
“ For instance?”
“ Well, how do you know it wasn’t someone from the village? Sometimes intruders will make themselves at home. I’ve heard cases where thieves raid refrigerators, or sleep in someone’s bed. You said yourself that the pipes were on prominent display in the library. The person could have seen them and simply helped themselves. What with you keeping irregular hours, you most likely interrupted whoever it was in the middle of having a smoke. Probably wasn’t expecting you.”
Figgs turned to look at Reginald. His body was jerking with nervous excitement – his eyes rounded with fear.
“ I know because I seen it! With my own eyes,” he said pointing to his dark, bleary eyes. They really did look haggard. Reginald averted his
The more Reginald mulled it over, the surer he was that someone had been entering surreptitiously. They may have been staying in the house – in one of the upstairs rooms or basement. That would account for Figgs’ feeling he was being watched. Reginald had no doubt a stranger roaming the grounds could account for changing a residence’s atmosphere.
“ Yes, sir.”
“ Is that it? Just the pipe?”
“ No, sir, there’s more to the incident. The pipe had tobacco in it – burned tobacco and when I touched it … it was warm – as if someone had been smokin’ it. And the smell was in the room, sir. That smell of Mr. Perry’s favorite blend. I even checked Mr. Perry’s supply – the one he kept in his credenza. Sure enough someone was using it up.”
“ But why didn’t you tell me? Or call the authorities? They could have dealt with an intruder.”
Reginald waited for a response. Figgs evaded his eyes and looked around the room. He covered Reginald’s hand and whispered his response.
“ Because no one can help. What was here weren’t human.”
Reginald took a deep breath. There was a chill running up his arm beginning at the exact spot Figgs had taken hold. The tingle reminded Reginald of the old nursery rhyme about a mouse running up a clock. It felt that way – as if evil traveled on small, fleet feet.
He quickly pulled his hand back. He realized how it seemed, but he had no choice. He didn’t want it to be held – not when the touch was producing such an unnatural sensation. He ran his other hand up and down the affected area. He was as uncomfortable about the direction the conversation was taking as he was about the chill now running throughout his body. Reginald remembered that there were no such things as ghosts. He was being as ridiculous as Miranda. He reassured himself that it was safe to continue even though his gut told him it was a bad idea. He pressed on thoroughly vested in discovering the rest.
He still rubbed the spot that felt as if an ice cube were taped to it. He turned his attention from it to Figgs, who was gazing out a window. He tried hard to discern any tell-tale signs that Figgs was drunk or crazy. Neither was apparent and that left the possibility that what Figgs was saying was the truth. He considered apologizing for recoiling from Figgs' touch, but decided against it. It looked as if Figgs had come to terms with it and was at peace with the slight.
Figgs hung his head, not sure if Reginald wanted him to continue. He broke the dreadful silence.
“ I know how it sounds, sir, but what I’m sayin’ is God’s honest truth.”
Reginald needed to amend the situation so that the tenuous connection with Figgs wasn’t severed. He leaned forward earnest in his attempt to hear more.
“ Please understand that I’m only trying to assimilate what you’ve said. I am not rejecting it. There are so many questions.”
“ For instance?”
“ Well, how do you know it wasn’t someone from the village? Sometimes intruders will make themselves at home. I’ve heard cases where thieves raid refrigerators, or sleep in someone’s bed. You said yourself that the pipes were on prominent display in the library. The person could have seen them and simply helped themselves. What with you keeping irregular hours, you most likely interrupted whoever it was in the middle of having a smoke. Probably wasn’t expecting you.”
Figgs turned to look at Reginald. His body was jerking with nervous excitement – his eyes rounded with fear.
“ I know because I seen it! With my own eyes,” he said pointing to his dark, bleary eyes. They really did look haggard. Reginald averted his
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