“This story is about the mansion behind my house.” Viv’s excitement shook Lin from her near-doze.

“What’s it about?”  Lin blinked.

“It’s telling about a ghost who lived there.  Every day at the same time, a door from a room the family was using as a den would open.  Anyone standing nearby would feel an incredible sense of cold.  Some members of the family would see a glowing figure in a long dress move out of the room, float along the hallway and head up the stairs.  The owners had an alarm system in the house and at that same time every day, the alarm would go off.”  Viv continued reading.  “The family had to have the alarm disarmed.”  She turned to Lin.  “That happened in my house.  Remember?  Every evening at the same time the alarm would go off.  I had the electrician come out several times to check it.  He could never figure out what the cause was, so I had him disarm it.”  Viv’s cheeks were pink with excitement.

“So what does it mean?”  Lin stared at her cousin.  “The ghost from the house behind yours moved into your house?”

Viv’s mouth hung open.  “Is there a ghost in my house?”

“Would a ghost in your house make Greg Hammond want to buy it?  There must be a lot of houses on the island that have a ghost in them.  Why would this ghost be so important?”

Viv narrowed her eyes and whispered.  “Have you ever seen a ghost in my house?”

“No.  Never.”  Lin shook her head.

“Really?  You’re not keeping that information from me because you know I’ll freak out?”

“I haven’t seen anything in there.  I swear.”  Lin held her hand up as if she were taking an oath.  She didn’t want to tell her cousin that sometimes she had the sensation of a presence or some unusual movement in the old Cape.  “Who is the ghost supposed to be?  Does the book mention a name?”

Viv bent over and scanned the pages silently.  A minute passed and then she let out a gasp.

“What?  What is it?”

“The people thought the female ghost in their house was a Witchard and the male ghost was her husband, a Coffin.  They owned my house and the house behind mine.”

“We don’t know much about the Witchards.”  Lin pulled the book closer so they both could see the pages.  “Homeowners speculate that the ghosts were Emily Witchard and her husband Sebastian Coffin.”  Her eyes went wide.  “My ghost must be Sebastian Coffin.  Our ancestor.  But why?  What does he want?”  Lin read more about Coffin and Emily Witchard.  “The book doesn’t give much information about them.”  Lin looked up from the page and blinked.  “Anton Wilson.  He must know all about the Witchards and Coffins.  I’m doing his garden tomorrow.”  She turned to her cousin.  “He told me that the next time I worked in his yard I should stay and he’d show me my family trees.”

Viv’s voice shook.  “Do you think it’s safe to be with Wilson alone?  Remember Nate Johnson said he saw Anton Wilson near Greg Hammond’s boat right before the murder took place.  What if…?”

Lin’s face took on a serious expression.  “When I talk to him, maybe I can find out what he was doing on the docks that morning.”

“You need to keep safe.  Listen to your intuition.  Leave his house if you feel something is off.”

        Lin said, “I’ll be careful.”

“Wait.”  Viv looked worried.  “Will you be done with Wilson in time to get to my house?  You’re supposed to let the workman in to do the repair on the wall near the fireplace.”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll be sure to be there to let him in.”

Viv leaned closer.  She had a twinkle in her eye and a wicked grin on her face.  “So enough about ghosts and murder, tell me all about your good-looking carpenter and how he happened to end up having dinner here with you tonight.”

That particular topic took a good hour to discuss and it was well past one in the morning when Viv left for home and Lin stumbled into bed.  Before turning out the light, she glared at the alarm clock sitting patiently on the side table right next to the bed.

Chapter 13

Anton Wilson yanked open his front door and flew outside when he saw Lin’s truck pull up and park at the curb. He crossed the small front lawn and was nearly breathless when he reached Lin’s vehicle.

“I was hoping it was you.”  Wilson’s eyes flashed with excitement.  “I couldn’t remember if today was gardening day or not.”

Lin lifted her garden bag of tools out of the truck bed and Nicky, eyeing the animated man, stayed close to her leg.  She was wary of the historian and had to force a smile.  “Last stop of the day.”  She’d decided to keep her tools close at hand at all times so that if Wilson threatened her she would be able to fight back.  She took a deep breath.  When Lin bought the business, she sure didn’t think she might have to defend herself against one of her clients.

Following the winding path set between flowering hydrangea bushes, Wilson led the way along the side of the house to the rear gardens.  “You’ll be able to stay after you finish the work?”

Lin nodded.  “I have a bit of time.  I have to be somewhere in an hour and half though.”

Wilson clapped his bony hands together.  “It won’t be enough time, but it’s certainly a start.  I’ll go gather the books and folders.  Just knock on the kitchen door when you’re ready.”  He hustled off into the house.

Watching him go, Lin was surprised by the small man’s energy.  Wilson was so thin that it made him seem weak.  He looked like he might blow away in a strong wind, but Lin wondered if his wiry build could provide the strength necessary to stab Greg Hammond to death.  She shuddered and pushed the thought from her mind.

When she’d finished the gardening, she washed her hands under the hose and splashed cool water on her face.  The dog hadn’t budged from her side the entire time she worked.  “It’s okay, Nick.  We can handle him if we have to,” Lin whispered.  She picked up a weeding tool and stuffed it in her back pocket just in case she had to defend herself.

As she was heading to the house to knock on the door, Wilson opened it.  “Why don’t you come inside?”  He held the door wide open.  “We can go over the things at the kitchen table.”  Wilson gestured to the long, wooden table set in front of the huge brick fireplace.  Books and folders and sheets of paper spilled over most of the table’s surface.

Lin admired the beautiful restoration of the space.  “It’s a lovely room.”

“I’ve been living here for a long time.  Every room of the house has been lovingly restored.”

Wilson pulled out a chair for Lin and the two sat side by side.  He reached for a folder and a book.  “I’ve done exhaustive research on the Coffin and the Witchard families, among others of course.”  He flipped open the folder to display a meticulous family tree.  He pointed.  “Here you are.  You see, as a direct descendant, you go all the way back to two of the first families that founded Nantucket.”  Wilson’s finger hopscotched over the paper stopping for a moment on one member of the family before jumping to the next, all the way back to the mid-1600s.

The historian moved his finger to the section indicating the 1700s.  “But this is where things become interesting.  Here is your ancestor, Sebastian Coffin, a businessman and lawyer.  He was also a director of a newly-formed bank.  He did quite well for himself until the bank was robbed.  Thanks to an enemy he gained over a disputed business deal, suspicion fell on Sebastian.  Many people in town turned away from him despite the lack of evidence that he had anything to do with the robbery.  He was removed from his directorship at the bank and lived his life shunned by many townsfolk.  Years later, the real robbers were found, but it was too late for Sebastian’s reputation.  It is a sad tale of how public opinion can ruin a man’s career and life.