Moon Island

 

After dressing and hailing a cab, I was soon standing outside of Professor Abraham Gunthrie's quaint little home.



A typical Washington home, I discovered: clapboard siding, cute herbal garden, and a stone path through roses.



There was a wooden wraparound porch with views of the University and his equally charming neighbors' homes. I wondered if he ever suspected a creature of the night would be descending upon his idyllic world.



Probably not. Then again, he probably never expected a private eye to come knocking, either.



Which is exactly what I did. Three times, loud enough to be heard throughout the small home. I watched a squirrel make a mad dash out into the storm and cross the manicured lawn. About halfway, it paused, no doubt regretting its decision to leave its cozy, acorn-filled nook somewhere high in the tree. Finally, it continued on, running and hopping alternately.



As it disappeared from view, I heard footsteps creak across a wooden floor and approach the front door. I already had my business card in hand as I waited.



The man who opened the door was older, as I knew he would be. Abraham Gunthrie sported a Van Dyke goatee, pointed at the end, and some errant ear hair. His eyebrows looked bushy enough for that squirrel I'd just seen to hide its acorns in.



"May I help you?" he asked. His voice was stronger than he looked. I briefly imagined him standing before his students, his deep voice easily reaching the back rows.



"Are you Professor Gunthrie?" I asked.



"For you, I'll be anyone you want."



Whoa. There was still some pep to his step. I smiled, perhaps bigger than I'd intended. He smiled, too, and showed me a lot of coffee-stained teeth.



"Professor Gunthrie, I'm a private investigator and I'd like to ask you a few questions about a shipwreck on Skull Island."



He blinked, absorbed what I said, then accepted my proffered business card, which he looked over carefully. He said, "You sound very official, Detective Moon." He winked. "I supposed I'd better invite you in, then."



"Thank you," I said.



And as I stepped past him, the old guy might have - just might have - checked out my ass.



The interior was as warm and cozy as the exterior promised. A fire burned energetically in the fireplace. Pictures of kids and grandkids adorned the wall. An elderly woman was in many of the pictures. The photos were of his deceased wife, I knew, because her spirit was presently standing in the room as well, watching us silently.



I'd gotten used to such spirits. Mostly, they didn't expect me to see them, and mostly, I pretended not to see them. In this case, I gave her a small nod and smile.



The woman, who was composed of hundreds, if not thousands, of particles of white light, seemed to do a double take, then slowly nodded toward me.



"Beautiful home," I said, noting the maritime theme mixed with the family photos.



"Made more beautiful now," he said, winking at me. Slightly embarrassed, I looked over at his departed wife. She simply shook her head and appeared to chuckle, although it was hard to tell because her features weren't fully formed.



"Well, thank you," I said.



"Would you like some tea, Ms.



Moon?"



"Water would be great."



"I can do water. Have a seat." He gestured toward a well-worn couch with a colorful afghan blanket thrown over the back.



Professor Gunthrie shuffled off into the kitchen, where I next heard water dispense from a cooler. Shortly, he returned with two glasses of water, which he set before us on little doily coasters at the coffee table. I sipped from my glass politely. He seemed pleased. In fact, he seemed pleased just to have any company at all.



Even vampire company.



A model of a clipper ship stretched across the length of the coffee table.



Tammy and Anthony would have broken that in two hours. Maybe one hour. Maybe instantly.



"So, what can I do for you, Ms.



Moon?" he asked, glancing at my business card again. He seemed impressed. Or maybe that was wishful thinking on my part.



"I'm looking into a shipwreck that occurred on Skull Island in the late nineteenth century."



"The Sea Merchant," he said, nodding.



"What can you tell me about that shipwreck that, well, didn't make it to the papers?"



"Or onto the Internet?" he asked, winking.



"That, too," I said, grinning.



"Perhaps the most interesting would have been that The Sea Merchant was transporting a small amount of treasure."



"Treasure?"



"Of sorts," he said, and drank long and hard from his own glass of water. "A man by the name of Archibald Maximus lost his fortune. Lots of gold, and other valuables. Apparently, he was quite the collector. Are you okay, Ms. Moon?"



Had I any color in my cheeks, I'm sure it would have drained. As it was, I'm fairly certain my mouth might have dropped open. I tried to recover valiantly.



"Any idea what this treasure might have contained?"



"Gold, from the reports. Not a king's ransom, granted, but certainly enough to keep the treasure hunters searching, which they continue to do to this day."



"I see," I said. "Thank you."



"Is there anything else I can do for you, Ms. Moon? Would you like something to eat? I just made a wonderful quiche - "



"No, thank you. I appreciate your help."



I stood to leave. He stood, too. "Do you have to leave so soon?" He was lonely and I knew it.



"I'm afraid so."



He looked briefly pained, and then nodded. As he walked me to the front door, I reached out to the female spirit watching us from the corner of the room.



"Your wife is here with you, Professor Gunthrie," I said.



"Excuse me?"



"I'm a sort of...medium. Your wife is here, in this room."



"Why would you say - "



"Her name is Helen, and she says she will always love you."



He blinked rapidly, and actually looked toward the area where the spirit of his deceased wife was presently watching us. "Well, you're a private eye, I'm sure you could have found that out - "



"She wants to thank you for planting the roses in her honor. She knows you think of her every time you see them."



His mouth opened, and then closed. He tried again, and then closed it again.



I continued. "She loves you now more than ever, and is with you always."



"Samantha...I don't understand."



"It's okay if you don't understand, Professor. She wants me to tell you that when you lie in bed and feel all alone that you are never alone. Not ever. She's lying right there with you, in spirit."



He rubbed his eyes. "I...I feel her, sometimes."



"When you see her in your dreams, she wants you to know that's her, coming to you."



"I dream of her all the time."



I smiled sweetly at him. "And there's something else she wants me to give you."



"What?"



I leaned in and kissed him ever-so- softly on the corner of his mouth. "That's from her."



He broke down for a minute or two and I waited, checking my watch. I nodded toward Helen, who had drifted over and was now standing nearby.



She thanked me, and I smiled at her, then squeezed Professor's Gunthrie's hand, and left him weeping in the doorway.



Alone. In theory.