Harrison Investigations 1 Haunted Read Online Free PDF Page B

haul Harry off to jail.
    Somehow, he endured the rest of the week, staying in the main
house, hearing the honeymooners in the pool at all hours, day and
night.
    Jeannie came to thank him personally for not throwing them out.
Her honeymoon, between the pool and the horses and the incredible
Jacuzzi in the caretaker's house, was bliss.
    She had forgotten about the ghost. She admitted that she'd had a
lot to drink.
    Penny kept insisting that there was a ghost, and he was being a
blind fool to ignore it. Either something bad was going to happen,
or-on the bright side!-were they to prove that a ghost existed,
they could get so rich they'd never have to worry about the upkeep
of the place again.
    Finally the honeymooners departed and everything went back to
normal. Then, Penny started at him again. She wanted to have a
seance.
    He said no.
    She persisted.
    He begged her to leave him alone. He had too much work on his
plate at the moment.
    At last, Penny backed off and contented herself with her tours.
Matt thought that life was pleasantly back to routine.
    Until she came to him with the letter from Adam Harrison,
Harrison Investigations.
    It was a month later that Clara Issy, one of the five daytime
housekeepers, stopped dead in her tracks.
    It was a sunny morning. The beautiful old bedroom in Melody
House was as it always was. The bed she had just made with its
shiny four-poster and quilted cover sat against the right wall. The
polished mahogany bureau held the modern touch of the entertainment
center within it. The television was off. The French doors to the
balcony and the wraparound porch were ajar because it was such a
nice day and the breeze was fresh and clean, causing the white
draperies to stir and dance. That was natural, and she was
accustomed to the smell and feel of fresh air. She loved it, and
she wasn't at all fond of the air-conditioning that ran through the
summer months. No, the room itself was just as it always was.
    She stood near the open French doors, jaw agape, and stared.
    Because she was alone in the room, yet something else was
moving. Something that drifted from the bed. Something in a
hazy form, something cold, something that felt threatening.
    It approached Clara. She felt something touch her face, almost
like the stroke of fingers against her cheek. Very cold fingers.
Dead fingers. She thought she heard a whispering. Scratchy,
against her ear. Something that pleaded... or threatened.
    Her hands were frozen in a vise around her broom handle.
Her body felt as if it had jelled into ice. Fear raced up and down
her spine.
    The cold...wrapped around her. Tightly. More and more
tightly.
    At last, her jaw snapped shut. She broke the sensation of
terror. She screamed, not a bloodcurdling sound, but one that
barely held a gasp of air.
    Then she found life, and ran.
    Out to the second floor landing; there was no one there. Down
the flight of stairs to the grand foyer, where again, the house was
empty. She headed toward the second doorway to the right of
the sweeping stairway. Surely, for the love of God, someone would
be in the house office- Penny, a tiny bastion against anyone evil,
but someone, at the least.
    Clara breathed a sigh of relief. Matt was there. Bursting out
the doorway before she could reach it. He was in his work uniform,
but he hadn't headed out for the station yet; it was still very
early. Thank God.
    He hurried toward her, as if he had heard her cry-being Matt, of
course, he had heard it!-and had been preparing to rush to her
rescue. Except that she had fled the room upstairs with greater
speed than a greyhound. And so she was here, spurting into bis
arms.
    "Clara! What is it?"
    She was fifty-five. Twenty years older than Matt, at least. But
he was Matt; solid as a rock. A tall man in his prime with a way
about him that commanded respect which in turn offered her a
feeling of security that allowed her to speak when her mouth was
still all but completely contorted.
    "I-I-quit!" she gasped