The House on Peri Lane

"I looked it up in the hall of records. There was a big dispute over who inherited what back in the eighteen sixties. The owners died and left no will. The kids, seven of them, had a big battle over custody of the place. They all finally went broke trying to win the law suit and after several years the county took title for abandoned property.

"When did you have time to find all this out?" Page asked. Babs short history had piqued her interest.

"Couple of elderly gentlemen were hanging around the store a couple of weeks ago. They got to talking and the subject came up. I was helping my folks at the time and took it all in from behind the counter. They sat, sipping coffee and discussed the place for quite some time. The place is supposed to have a resident ghost. They say the brother of the last owner killed his mistress in one of the third floor bedrooms. They hung him and she is supposed to walk the halls carrying a lantern, looking for him."

"Gee!" Page breathed. "Sure would hate to meet her."

"Shall we have a look?" Babs asked.

"May as well," Page replied. "I didn’t dress in this old plaid shirt and denims to make a style statement.

Page was used to the finer things in life. She lived in the richer part of town. Her parents could afford the best of everything accept for time to share with Page. They were up to their eyeballs in work. Her Father had more cases on the docket than he could handle and her mother was up to her elbows in someone’s guts half the time and involved in community projects the other half. Denims and Plaid didn’t exactly suit her. As a matter of fact, they didn’t go with the new MG her parents had given her for her sixteenth birthday.

Babs wandered down the hall, stopping to examine the portraits. They would probably be quite valuable. Being a part time store proprietor, she had an eye for things of value. Her parents sold a little of everything in their store. She tried the knob to the door at the end of the hall. It swung inward on creaking hinges.

"I guess this is what they used to call a mud room. A place to leave boots, coats and such," Page commented, following along in Babs footsteps. The Gouache loafers didn’t exactly go with the Denims and Plaid.

"Probably. They wouldn’t have had paved streets and sidewalks when this place was built." Babs replied.

"Don’t suppose you came across that tidbit of information while you were snooping?"

"Yes, I did as a matter of fact. Construction was started in eighteen oh three, was halted for the war of eighteen twelve and continued again soon after," Babs answered. She had proceeded a few steps into the room revealed by the second door. It was a huge room with a very large fire place at the far end. Furniture covered with dust covers filled the room.

"Must have been a sitting room," Page observed. "Got a clock and everything." She pulled the cover from an ancient grand-father clock that stood against the wall a few feet from the entry hall door. The clock had stopped at four fifteen. She wondered idly if it had been morning or afternoon.

"Probably worth a small fortune," Babs commented as she lifted the cover from a huge black oak table.

"Wow!" Page exclaimed. "Now that is a real beauty. Wonder what they used it for?"

"Hard to say. Maybe they kept the ghost of that lady in one of the drawers." Babs said in a joking manner, opening several of the drawers, she found a lot of papers written in long hand.