A Murder on Poet's Hill (Ella Daniels

Mystery 2) 1st Edition J. A. Whiting

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A MURDER ON POET’S HILL

AN ELLA DANIELS MYSTERY BOOK 2

J. A. WHITING
Copyright 2019 J.A. Whiting
Cover copyright 2019 Melody Simmons:
www.bookcoverscre8tive.com
Formatting by Signifer Book Design
Proofreading by Donna Rich

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, or incidents are products
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales,
actual events, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from J. A. Whiting.

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For my family with love
 CONTENTS

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24

Thank you for reading!

Also by J. A. Whiting
About the Author
 1

It was late afternoon when Ella Daniels sat at her desk in her
university office correcting papers while her black cat, Raisin,
snoozed on the sofa by the windows in a circle of golden sunlight.
The office door was open to invite in any students who might have a
question to ask and when she heard a knock on the doorframe, Ella
looked up to see her brother, Ben, standing at the threshold.
“Hey. Am I interrupting?”
Ella gave him a smile. “Not at all. Come on in.”
Raisin stood and stretched before jumping down to greet Ben.
“How’s the best black cat in the whole country?” Ben scratched
the feline behind the ears before taking a seat next to his sister’s
desk. He seemed low energy which was out of character for him and
Ella wondered what might be bothering him.
“What are you doing here at the university?” Ella asked.
“You know I applied to teach one of the fire science courses in
the spring semester?” Ben had worked as a firefighter with the city
of Quinsigamond for the past decade. “Well, the department head
called and asked me to come in to speak with him. He seems like a
good guy. We got along well. I think he’s going to hire me.”
“That’s great.” Ella reached over and hugged Ben. “You’re going
to be super busy when the semester starts.”
“I’m looking forward to teaching actually. It’s one more thing to
add to my resume.” Ben grinned. In addition to being with the fire
department, Ella’s brother was also a blacksmith and he had a great
setup in the barn behind his house where he made all kinds of
things out of iron and steel… tools, door handles, lanterns, hinges,
hooks, gates, railings, light fixtures, and helmets and weapons for
historical reenactors.
Ella said, “I hope it works out and they offer you the position.”
“Thanks. Are we still on for tomorrow evening?”
“Kari called me about an hour ago. She’s working on an
interesting case. She didn’t give me any details, but she told me
she’s looking forward to talking with us about it.”
“Is the ghost dangerous?” Ben asked.
“He’s riled up, but I don’t think he’s dangerous.”
Ella and her family were the owners and part-time employees of
Green Hill Investigations, a ghost investigation company. The family
members assisted ghosts with crossing over, coming to terms with
their new forms, and working things out between a ghost inhabiting
a home or a building and the people who currently lived in those
places. Ella likened what they did to being counselors. She, her
siblings, and other family members often met with other spirit
investigators to discuss cases and share ideas. Kari Waltham worked
closer to Boston and the North Shore. She was having some
problems with a ghost and wanted some input from her friends and
colleagues.
“Are you working tonight?” Ella asked.
Ben shook his head. “Ava and I might go see a movie later.” Ben
and Ava had been dating for the past five years and frequently
endured teasing from the family about when they were going to get
married.
Running his hand through his black hair, Ben let out a sigh. “You
remember Joe Bigelow?”
“Yeah.” Ella nodded, and fixed her bluish-green eyes on her
brother. “He’s an historical reenactor. You got to know him after he
asked you to make a sword for him. He owns a restaurant in town,
right?”
“That’s him. He’s been coming by the shop sometimes to talk,
have a beer. I don’t know him very well, but he’s seemed kind of
down lately. I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks so I went by
the restaurant. The hostess told me Joe called in and would be out
due to illness.”
When Ella cocked her head to the side, her long black hair
shifted over her shoulders. “Are you worried about him?”
“I am.” Ben’s eyes held Ella’s gaze. “I don’t know why. I just have
a funny feeling about it.”
As a jolt of electricity raced through Ella’s body, Raisin let out a
rumbling growl.
“Is Joe married?”
“Divorced.”
“Does he live alone?”
“I’m pretty sure he does. I don’t think he has a girlfriend right
now.”
“Did you text him? Call him?”
Ben nodded. “He doesn’t answer.”
Ella tried to be nonchalant about it. “He might have the flu. It’s
going around. Lots of people are out in different departments.”
“Yeah. That’s probably it.”
Ella studied her brother’s face. “Do you want to go by Joe’s
house?”
“I’d like to, yeah.” Ben hesitated, but then said, “Will you come
with me? When will you be done here?”
“I can be done now.” Ella shut down her laptop, placed some
student papers into a folder, and slipped it into her briefcase. “Have
you been to Joe’s house before?”
“A few times. It’s a nice place over on Poet’s Hill.”
Putting on her jacket, Ella glanced over at her brother. “Should
we ask Livvy to meet us there?” At thirty-five, Livvy was the oldest
of the Daniels siblings. She owned a coffee shop and gift store in
town, was happily married, and had a four-year-old son.
“I don’t want to bother her. She’s probably going to pick up Jack
soon and then head home. My worries are most likely nothing at all.
I’d just like to see if Joe needs anything.”
Despite the heaviness she was feeling, Ella put on a reassuring
smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”
 She, Ben, and Raisin left the office and headed out to the parking
lot.
“Want to ride with me?” Ben asked. “I can drop you back here to
get your car when we’re done.”
The threesome got into Ben’s vehicle and made the short drive to
Poet’s hill, a pretty, affluent neighborhood of Quinsigamond
consisting of tree-lined streets, older, well-maintained homes, a park,
and a central common with a few shops clustered around it.
“Do you know much about Joe?” Ella asked.
“Not a whole lot. He grew up here in the city, owns a few
restaurants, owns some houses he rents out along with a couple of
office buildings.”
“He must do very well,” Ella noted.
“He’s a regular guy though, down-to-earth, easy-going. He’s
close to my age, maybe thirty-five, he was married for about five
years, no kids. He’s big into historical reenacting.”
“What time period?”
“Revolutionary War,” Ben said as he turned the car down a quiet
lane. The sun was setting and long shadows covered the street.
In the backseat, Raisin growled causing Ella and Ben to exchange
looks.
“What’s up, Raisin?” Ella asked.
The black cat let out another low growl.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Ben admitted. “Here’s Joe’s
house.”
A huge, sprawling Colonial stood back from the road on a well-
landscaped lot of three-quarters of an acre. A tall oak tree stood at
the front of the home. There was a red truck parked in front of the
carriage house to the right of the home.
“This is beautiful.” Ella admired the fine house. “Is that Joe’s
truck?”
“Yeah, it is so he must be home.”
Ella opened the back door of the car to let Raisin out. The cat
stood warily eyeing the Colonial.
“I’m going to text Joe before we go to the door,” Ben told his
sister. He waited for a response, and when one wasn’t forthcoming,
he took in a deep breath. “I hope he isn’t napping. I don’t want to
wake him if he’s sick.”
Lamplights placed near the driveway and along the brick
walkways lit up the darkness as the siblings walked to the front door
where Ben rang the bell. Raisin prowled near the edge of the flower
beds that were full of yellow and red mums.
“Joe keeps the place looking really nice,” Ella pointed out.
Ben pressed on the doorbell again, but no one came to see who
was ringing. He turned to his sister. “Do you sense anything?”
Ella admitted, “I’ve felt uneasy since you started talking about
Joe. You must feel the same way since you wanted to come out and
check on him.”
Ben shoved his hands in his pockets. “I think something’s wrong.”
Raisin hissed from the bottom of the granite steps.
“Raisin seems to agree,” Ben said. “Let’s go around back.”
When they reached the rear of the home, Ben rang at the
backdoor and got the same results. He looked over to the carriage
house. “Why don’t we check Joe’s truck?”
Ben used the flashlight on his phone to light up the interior of the
vehicle. “Nothing inside.”
“Joe could have gone away for a few days,” Ella suggested.
“Maybe he’s out of town with a friend.”
“But Joe told his restaurant workers that he was sick and staying
home.”
“Was he fibbing for some reason?” Ella asked before noticing
Raisin near the door to the carriage house and headed over to
where she was standing under the light of the overhead lantern.
“What are you doing, Cutie Cat?”
The fur on the feline’s back was ruffled up and she had her eyes
glued to the door.
“Ben,” Ella’s voice seemed to tremble a little. “This door is slightly
ajar.”
Hurrying to his sister’s side, Ben could see the door was open.
“I’ll take a look inside.” He put his hand on the door handle and
pulled it wider, and using his flashlight, shined it inside the first floor
of the carriage house.
 When Ben screamed, his sister rushed forward.
Ben wheeled around, placing his hand on Ella’s arm to keep her
from advancing. His words caught in his throat. “Don’t go in there.
Don’t look inside.”
Ben’s face was deathly pale. His breathing was fast and shallow.
“What is it?” Ella held her brother’s arms. “What did you see?”
Ben was nearly hyperventilating.
“Do you need to sit down?” Ella’s heart raced. “Sit on the ground.
Should I call the police?”
Ben coughed several times and he wiped the back of his hand
over his forehead. “Joe. It’s Joe.”
Ella took a quick look at the carriage house door. “Does he need
help?”
Shaking his head, Ben’s expression was a mix of horror and
disbelief. “Joe … he’s … he’s dead. There’s a noose, Ella. Joe’s
hanging from one of the beams.”
 2

Ella made the emergency call and the police showed up within
fifteen minutes, and she and her brother were interviewed by
officers and a Quinsigamond detective.
“Is Detective Damon back to work yet?” Ella asked the man when
his questioning was coming to a close.
“Jonas is working two days a week doing desk work. The docs
won’t let him in the field yet.” The detective eyed Ella and
recognition passed over his face. “You’re the one who saved Jonas,
aren’t you?”
Ella shook her head. “I didn’t save him. I’m just the one who
found him.”
“Same thing,” the detective told her.
Detective Jonas Damon had been investigating the murder of a
young chef and he’d crossed paths with Ella and her sister who were
trying to help the ghost. Initially, Jonas was not receptive to the idea
of spirits, but over the course of the investigation, he became more
open-minded. Ella suspected something was wrong when Jonas
didn’t answer her texts, and she and Raisin found the man in a
lawyer’s office stabbed, unconscious, and bleeding.
Ella, Raisin, and Ben stood at the end of the dark driveway
watching the crime scene professionals process the scene.
Ella put her hand on her brother’s arm. “How are you doing?”
 Ben’s shoulders drooped. “I’m okay. It was a shock finding Joe in
the carriage house, but being a firefighter, I have to admit I’ve seen
worse … unfortunately.”
“You knew something was wrong.”
The medical examiner’s car pulled into the driveway and parked
near the carriage house.
Ben nodded, his eyes pinned on the emergency workers. “I’ve
felt off for days. I didn’t connect my feelings to concern for Joe until
last night. I realized Joe hadn’t been by recently. He really enjoyed
watching me in the blacksmith shop. He asked a ton of questions. I
showed him how to make a simple candleholder.”
Holding a flashlight, an athletic young woman with shoulder-
length, straight, black hair hurried up the sidewalk to Ben and Ella.
“Here you are. Are you okay?” Livvy Daniels Smith zipped up her
jacket and looked at her brother and sister with a worried
expression.
“We’re okay, just very rattled,” Ella said.
“And the Cutie Cat?” Livvy bent down to scratch Raisin’s cheeks.
“Is she okay, too?”
“She’s better than we are,” Ben pointed out. “Raisin knew
something was wrong before we did. I’ve felt concern for Joe since
yesterday, but I’ve been blowing it off as needless worry.”
“I guess it wasn’t needless.” Livvy took a look around at the
people hurrying about the carriage house. “Did you happen to
overhear any of the officers? Do you know how long Joe has been
dead?”
“We don’t know,” Ben explained. “The coroner just arrived. From
my quick look at him, I would guess he hasn’t been gone very long.”
“How well did you know him?” Livvy questioned.
“Not well. Sometimes, he’d come by the shop and watch me
work. He was interested in blacksmithing. He did seem down the last
time I saw him.”
“Did he say why?”
“He didn’t, and I didn’t ask. I didn’t know Joe well enough to ask
him personal questions like that.”
“Are you picking up on anything?” Ella asked her sister.
 Livvy took a deep breath and slowly moved her eyes around the
shadow-covered grounds of Joe’s property. She knelt down and
when she placed her palm on the driveway, her eyes flicked up,
gazed at the front door and then focused like lasers on the carriage
house. “Did you hear any of the personnel say the word suicide?”
Ben stared at his sister.
“We haven’t overheard anything,” Ella told Livvy before taking
another glance at the carriage house. “Oh.”
“Oh, what?” Ben questioned.
“Is Joe’s spirit lurking around here?” Livvy asked.
“Not yet,” Ella said. “But I think we should come back tomorrow.”
Raisin trilled.
“Good idea,” Livvy agreed.
Running his hand over his hair, Ben asked, “What are you two
thinking?”
Livvy looked down at Raisin for a second, and then she made eye
contact with her brother. “I know it seems like he did, but Joe
Bigelow didn’t kill himself.”

Eating chicken pot pie, Ben, Ella, and Aunt Jin gathered around
Livvy’s dining table in front of the fire in the huge hearth of her
antique home located two blocks from Ella’s house. Raisin snoozed
in a comfy chair by the fireplace.
Sixty-five years old with short blond hair and blue eyes, Aunt Jin
was a medical doctor and Ph.D. who studied and researched
learning disabilities at the same university-medical complex where
Ella worked as a professor.
“Mike took Jack to a bowling event sponsored by Jack’s
preschool,” Livvy told the group.
Even though Jack could see ghosts and listened to his family
discuss ghost investigations, they preferred not to talk about crimes
in front of the little boy.
“Liam is going to come by later for dessert,” Ella told the family.
 Liam Turner was a freelance journalist who had recently done a
feature story on the Green Hill ghost investigators and had become
friendly with the family. He enjoyed the central Massachusetts city
and its neighborhoods so much that he’d given up his Boston
apartment and had moved into a place in Green Hill just a few
weeks ago.
“Tell me what happened at the man’s home this evening,” Jin
said. “What did you see? What did you sense? And tell me why you
decided to go out there?”
Ben explained his association with Joe Bigelow and his feelings
that something wasn’t right with the man. “My concerns centered
around the idea Joe needed help, that maybe he was ill. He lived
alone. I sure didn’t think we were going to find him dead.”
Ella reported her feelings of doom and dread when she and Ben
arrived at Joe’s home. “When I spotted Raisin sniffing at the slightly
opened door to the carriage house, I knew it wasn’t going to be
good.” She paused for a moment and then went on. “Ben went
inside, saw Joe’s body, and hurried back out. I called the police. We
were interviewed by a couple of officers and a detective.”
“Not Jonas Damon?” Jin asked.
With a shake of her head, Ella said, “Jonas isn’t well enough to
be working full time, but he’s back working at the station doing
paperwork two days a week.” Ella took a bite of her chicken pie. “I
called Livvy and she came out to Joe’s house to meet us.”
“And what did you pick up on?” Jin asked her niece.
Livvy set her water glass on the table. “Joe didn’t commit
suicide.”
Jin’s eyes widened as her eyebrows raised. “The man was
murdered?”
“That’s what I sensed when I was there. I felt that someone
drove up the driveway, and the person had ill-intentions. I’m not
sure when it happened, but it wasn’t that long ago, maybe
yesterday. It wasn’t yet dark when the person paid the visit to the
house.” Livvy shrugged. “That’s all I could feel riding on the air.”
“Well done,” Jin praised her. “Could you tell if the attack was
random or not?”
 “It was a targeted attack,” Livvy told them.
“The man’s spirit wasn’t lingering?” Jin asked.
“We didn’t see or sense him,” Ella told her aunt. “We want to pay
a visit to the house tomorrow though in case Joe hasn’t crossed over
yet.”
Jin nodded her approval. “You said Joe was a Revolutionary War
reenactor. Where did the reenactments take place?”
“All over the state,” Ben said.
“And the man owned restaurants, rental houses, and office
buildings here in the city?” Jin asked.
“He did. Joe did well for himself,” Ben said.
Jin lifted her napkin to her lips. “It’s clear that someone wasn’t
happy with the man. A disgruntled employee? An angry tenant? A
jealous competitor? An unhappy business partner? A jilted lover? You
told me Joe was divorced. Did his ex-wife live nearby?”
“I don’t know,” Ben shrugged. “He didn’t talk much about her.”
“How about a partner? Was he seeing anyone? Had he recently
broken up with someone?” Ella asked her brother.
“Like I said, I didn’t know much about Joe. We’d talked sports,
reenacting, blacksmithing, our careers. We didn’t get into a lot of
personal stuff. I don’t remember Joe ever saying anything about a
girlfriend or a partner.”
“If the man’s ghost shows up and requests our help, we’ll get
involved,” Jin told them. “Otherwise, the investigation will be left to
the police.”
As the three siblings nodded, the doorbell rang and Ella hurried
to the door.
Livvy chuckled and whispered to Ben and Jin, “Do you think Ella
is eager about Liam coming over for dessert?”
Raisin lifted her head from her cozy spot in the chair by the
hearth and meowed.
“Hi, all.” Thirty-year old Liam was six feet tall, athletic, and had
brown hair and brown eyes. Raisin jumped down from the chair to
greet the man and received some patting behind her ears. “Hi there,
best cat.” When Liam straightened, he said, “Sure smells good in
here.”
 “Have you had dinner?” Livvy asked him. “There’s plenty of pot
pie left.”
“Thanks, but I did eat. I’m looking forward to your Boston cream
pie though.”
“We’ll clear the dinner dishes away and bring out the dessert.”
Once they were settled with coffee, tea, and pie, Liam asked
about their days and got an unexpected earful of information.
The young man’s face held an expression of shock. “I didn’t think
I’d be hearing about a murder, and so soon after Leo was killed at
the inn. It’s only been a month since that happened. Are you going
to investigate?”
“Only if Joe Bigelow’s spirit is seen,” Ella explained. “The violence
of his death may impact his ability to cross. We’ll check tomorrow to
see if his spirit is lingering.”
“That makes sense.” From shadowing the family members for his
article on ghosts and ghost investigations, Liam had learned a few
things about spirits and he’d found it all fascinating. He had the idea
of turning his article into a book and continued to go with Ella, Livvy,
and Ben when there was an issue with a ghost. “Will we still be
going to see the Boston area ghost investigator tomorrow evening?”
“We will,” Livvy said. “We’re meeting her in Lexington.”
Ella made eye contact with Liam. “It might prove to be a very
interesting meeting.”
Liam swallowed hard as a look of worry passed over his face.
 3

The late afternoon showed a sliver of the moon shining in the inky
November sky. A cold breeze had come up and the air felt raw and
damp as if some snow might be in the forecast. The bare limbs of
the oak tree in the front yard looked menacing with the branches
stretched out looking as if they might grab you when you passed by.
When the sisters drove by the house, a few of the investigators
were milling about outside so Ella and Livvy decided to park down by
the Common and walk the few blocks back to Joe’s house. A police
officer was stationed at the end of Joe’s driveway to keep people
from driving up, parking, and gawking.
“Liam walked you home from my house last night,” Livvy said.
“Did you invite him in?”
Ella rolled her eyes at her matchmaking sister. “No, I didn’t. I had
a bunch of papers to grade, and even though I didn’t know the
deceased man, I was worn out and upset about what happened to
Joe Bigelow. I just wanted to sit by the fire, do my work, and go to
bed early.”
“Yeah, I understand. The whole mess went round and round in
my head all night. I barely slept.” Livvy gave her sister a gentle poke
on the arm. “If you invited Liam in, he might have been able to
comfort you.”
“Oh, stop, will you? I like Liam. He’s kind and smart. We’ve gone
hiking and we’ve had dinners together. We’re friends. I enjoy his
company. Let’s leave it at that for now.”
“Being friends can turn into something more,” Livvy pointed out.
“I’m not in a hurry for anything more,” Ella explained. “So don’t
push.”
“You’re thirty already. You’ll be an old maid soon.”
Ella groaned. “Then I’ll be an old maid.”
Raisin let out a hiss and flicked her tail.
Confused, Livvy eyed the feline. “Is the cutie cat siding with me
or you?”
“You’ll have to ask her.”
As they approached Joe’s house, the big Colonial looked lonely
and forlorn in the darkness. A few of the windows were lit up from
the inside and the sisters and Raisin could see silhouettes of people
walking back and forth.
The sisters stood on the other side of the road looking at the
house.
“What in the world happened here?” Ella asked. “Who could have
been so angry at Joe that they did something so terrible to him?”
“And over what?” Livvy’s face clouded. “Couldn’t the killer just
shoot or stab him and get it over with quickly? He had to hang him
from his own carriage house rafters?” She shivered involuntarily at
the thought. “How would someone even do that?”
Ella gave her sister a look.
“I’m asking because it’s important to figure out. Joe would have
fought back. How would the killer get Joe into the carriage house?”
“That’s a good point. Drug him?”
“Or maybe there were two attackers?” Livvy proposed. “Or
maybe Joe was already dead before they hanged him. The hanging
might have been a statement the killer was making.”
“What sort of statement would that be?” Ella asked.
“I have no idea. I’m just shooting out ideas.” Livvy blew on her
freezing hands and then rubbed them together. She looked at her
watch. “Do you think Joe crossed over? How long should we wait to
see if he shows up? We have to get to Lexington to meet Kari.”
“Let’s give him a little more time. He didn’t know us. Maybe he’s
being cautious.”
 Livvy frowned. “The time for caution is past.”
“Are you getting any sense of what happened here?” Ella asked.
“Nothing more than what I felt yesterday.”
A dark SUV pulled up and parked next to the curb. A man got out
and started up the driveway.
Ella recognized him. “Jonas,” she called.
The man turned and glanced to the other side of the street as
Ella, Livvy, and Raisin hurried across.
“Jonas,” Ella smiled. “How are you? You look like you’re doing
well.”
Detective Jonas Damon stepped forward and gave Ella a long
hug. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you properly. When you
came to see me in the hospital, I was pretty drugged up. Thank you
for what you did. Thank you for saving my life.”
Ella smiled shyly, feeling embarrassed by the detective’s kind
words. “I’m just glad I found you in time.”
Jonas shook hands with Livvy. “It’s nice to see you again. How’s
that little boy of yours?”
“He’s doing fine. Are you feeling well?”
Jonas shrugged. “I’m getting there. Some days are better than
others.” The detective leaned down to pat Raisin. “And hello to you,
too, Raisin. I heard you had a hand, or should I say a paw, in saving
me.”
Raisin trilled and rubbed up against Jonas’s legs.
“Are you working this case?” Ella gestured to the Colonial.
“Unofficially. I’m not allowed to actively investigate yet, but the
case is unusual and I wanted to come by to see how the preliminary
work was going.”
“I’m sure they could use your help,” Ella smiled.
Jonas’s expression changed suddenly. “Why are you here?”
“Our brother, Ben, knew Joe Bigelow,” Ella explained. “Ben was
concerned about him so he and I came out late yesterday afternoon
to see if he was okay. Ben heard that Joe had been feeling sick. We
rang the bell, walked around the house, and noticed the carriage
house door was ajar. Ben went in and….” Ella’s voice trailed off.
Jonas’s eyebrows raised. “You’re the ones who found the body?”
 “Ben did. I didn’t go inside.”
Livvy told the detective, “I wasn’t with them until later.”
“How is it that you’ve been at the scene of two unexpected
deaths within a month of each event?” Jonas asked, aghast.
“Just lucky?” Livvy deadpanned.
“We’ve been in the wrong place, at the wrong time.” Ella
shrugged. “It isn’t exactly how I like to spend my free time.”
“What are the odds?” Jonas glanced over his shoulder, and then
stepped closer to the sisters. “Are you here because of a ghost?”
“Possibly,” Ella told him.
“Joe Bigelow?” Jonas voice was almost a whisper.
Livvy shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe.”
“Did Joe not cross over? Or did he stay on this side because of
the violent death he experienced?” Jonas looked from Ella to Livvy.
“We aren’t sure yet about any of it,” Ella said. “We came by to
see if Joe might appear to us. He might need some help.”
Jonas’s head turned from side to side examining the dark
property. “You haven’t seen him yet?”
“Not yet. Maybe he crossed and all is well for him now.”
“You think so?” Jonas asked. “Not all violent deaths result in a
spirit not crossing?”
“No,” Livvy said. “Some cross no matter what the circumstances
were.”
“Good then.” Jonas’s head bobbed up and down.
Ella gave the detective a smile. “You remembered some of the
things we talked about when you visited our office.”
“Yeah.” Jonas rubbed at his face. “All that information, ghosts,
crossing, not crossing over, it kept me up a couple of nights. I
couldn’t shut off my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. It’s all so
… unbelievable.”
Ella nodded, and then asked, “Do you know if Joe was dead
before he was hanged?”
The quick change of topic momentarily threw the detective off.
“Before he was hanged?” Jonas tilted his head in question. “He
hanged himself, so I assume he was alive when he did it.”
“Are you sure he committed suicide?” Livvy asked.
 Jonas’s mouth opened and then quickly closed. “What are you
getting at?”
“We think Joe was murdered,” Ella told him.
“Murdered? I haven’t heard this theory yet.”
“No one discussed it back at the station?” Livvy asked.
“I was in Cambridge today. I haven’t heard much of anything,”
Jonas said.
“Well,” Livvy started. “Joe didn’t kill himself. I’m sure of that.”
“How can you know this?” Jonas moved his hand around. “Did
you get a mysterious message on the air?”
“As a matter of fact, I did feel something on the air.”
Jonas’s mouth slammed shut.
Livvy’s voice was forceful. “The man was killed. It’s a fact.
Someone hung him in the carriage house. But we were wondering if
Joe was dead prior to the noose being put around his neck.”
“I don’t know. I need to speak with some of the investigators.”
Jonas looked flustered. “I guess I’ll go inside and talk to them.” The
detective took a few backwards steps.
“I’m glad you’re doing so well,” Ella smiled. “You’ll be as good as
new soon.”
“Thank you again.” Jonas nodded to the sisters and to the cat,
and then he wheeled around and strode up to the house.
“We freaked him out.” Livvy watched him go.
“Yeah, well, that’s par for the course.” Ella checked the time on
her phone. “We should probably head home. Liam is going to meet
us at my house and drive to Lexington with us.” She took a quick
look around the yard, and then turned to leave, but stopped short.
Ella slowly turned back to the front of the house. “He’s here.”
“What? Joe? He’s here? Where?”
“By the front steps. He’s looking over at us.”
Raisin meowed.
Ella gestured to the ghost that he should come closer.
Joe moved a little towards the sisters, then halted, then started
up again. He easily floated over the lawn.
Stopping at the edge of the opposite sidewalk, the ghost’s face
showed fear and anxiety.
 “The police won’t allow us to be on the property.” Ella spoke in a
soft voice. “We’re Ben’s sisters, Joe. We can see you. Do you
understand that you died?”
Joe’s face crumpled and his shoulders shook.
Raisin ran across the street and trilled at the spirit.
“You’ll be okay. It takes time to become accustomed to the
change. Would you like to cross over?”
Joe shook his head hard. He looked back at his house and his
body began to tremble.
“You can stay at the house. It’s okay to do that. The investigators
will leave soon. Just ignore them. Rest. You don’t need to be afraid.
We’ll help you.”
Joe looked into Ella’s eyes.
“Do you want us to stay?” she asked.
Joe gave a slight shake of his head.
“You know where Ben lives. If you need help, go to him. He
understands,” Livvy said.
Ella’s heart ached for the ghost and she had to blink back her
tears. “We’ll come back tomorrow night. You’re not alone, Joe. We’re
here for you.”
 4

Kari Waltham was a self-employed occupational therapist working

near the towns of Concord, Lexington, and Acton outside of Boston.
She was also a ghost investigator in that area as well as on the
North Shore. At thirty-three years old, Kari had shoulder-length
brown hair, brown eyes, and a kind and gentle demeanor.
Ella, Livvy, Liam, and Raisin met her at her office.
“I’m so glad you came.” Kari patted the cat and then invited
everyone to take a seat around the conference table. After a few
minutes of discussion about the murder on Poet’s Hill and Ella and
Livvy’s sighting of the victim’s ghost, they turned their attention to
Kari’s problem.
“After doing some research, I’ve pieced together that my spirit is
a soldier from the Revolutionary War. I believe his name was Henry
and he lived in Lexington. He died during the Battle of Lexington and
Concord,” Kari shared what she’d learned.
“What’s going on with him? Why is there an issue?” Ella
questioned.
Kari sighed. “He’s causing trouble around the historic sites and at
some homes near the battle road. Unlike most spirits, he doesn’t
stay in one place. He moves around Minuteman Park causing
trouble. He’s been seen by some tourists who were frightened by his
antics. They complained to the park rangers and the management
that the reenactor was too real.” Kari couldn’t help but smile. “They
had no idea how unreal Henry was.”
“What does Henry do?” Liam questioned with a hesitant tone.
“He behaves in a threatening manner towards the tourists, he
has caused some damage to the Battle Road, to the Minuteman
statue in Concord, the old North Bridge, some of the historic homes
and the restored tavern on the Battle Road. Sometimes, he can be
heard wailing in the woods. I’ve heard him. It’s a chilling sound.”
“Are you able to communicate with him?” Livvy asked.
“A little. When I ask a question, he’ll sometimes nod, shake his
head, or gesture. He doesn’t say anything to me.”
“Have you tried the flashlights for yes-no questions?” Ella asked.
“I tried. He walks away from them.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About a month,” Kari told them.
Ella asked, “Have you been able to pick up any auditory or visual
recordings?”
“I’ve tried to capture some sounds or images, but I haven’t had
any luck. It makes me think Henry shies away from any modern
devices.”
“That’s interesting.” Livvy wrote some notes in a small notebook.
“It’s one of the reasons I decided to call you in,” Kari said. “Since
Ella can often hear or see more than the rest of us can, I wanted to
reach out.” Kari looked at Ella. “You don’t need the equipment to
pick up things about the spirit. I thought you might have better luck
gathering information and communicating with him.”
“I’ll try.” Raisin sat in Ella’s lap and the young woman ran her
hand over the cat’s soft fur. “Has the ghost been aggressive towards
you?”
Kari gave a shrug. “Not really. He might throw something now
and then, but he doesn’t really seem to want to hit me.”
“Does Henry hang out more often in one particular place?” Livvy
questioned. “Or do you have to travel around to make contact with
him?”
“He’s often near the river that runs through the woods. I find him
there most of the time.” Kari looked at the three people sitting
around the table with her. “Would you like to go and meet him
now?”
“No time like the present.” Livvy stood and the small group
followed her from the office and out to Kari’s SUV.
Traveling through the winding roads of Lexington, they passed
stately antique homes and beautiful stretches of woods before Kari
turned the vehicle onto a bumpy dirt lane. Moving slowly through
the dark forest away from the town roads, the headlights were the
only source of light cutting between the trees.
After two miles of jostling over the wooded path, Kari pulled to
the side and parked. “Here we are. We have to walk down this trail
to the river.”
Ella removed the metal case from the SUV and Liam offered to
carry it. Everyone switched on their flashlights and headed down the
trail deeper into the woods.
Thankfully, because it was November, there were no mosquitoes
or other bugs to bother them as they trudged carefully along the
path. In a few minutes, the sound of water could be heard and a
little further along, they stopped by a small, dark river.
“This is where Henry often shows up,” Kari told them.
Raisin moved along the edge of the water sniffing the moist
ground.
“Do you think he’ll show up?” Liam whispered to Ella.
“I have a feeling he will, but it’s only a guess.”
The foursome walked around a little trying to stay warm on the
cold evening. Livvy pulled her knitted hat down around her face and
Ella took a scarf from her pocket and wound it around her neck.
“I should have brought a thermos of hot chocolate,” Livvy
lamented.
As their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could make out
more of the river and its banks.
“It’s very pretty here,” Ella noted. “So peaceful.”
“It must be why Henry likes it,” Livvy pointed out.
The four humans chatted for a while until they heard Raisin
meowing and saw her staring off down the narrow trail that ran by
the water.
 “He’s here,” Ella said. “I can see the glow of his atoms.”
The others saw nothing as Ella stepped forward.
“Hello, Henry. I’m Ella Daniels. I’m here with my sister, Livvy, and
a friend, Liam. That’s our cat, Raisin. She can see you, too. Kari
asked us to come and meet you.”
Henry’s atoms glowed more brightly, but his form did not take
shape.
“Kari tells us that you fought in the Revolutionary War,” Ella said
gently. “You were in the early battle that happened right around
here.”
“In my peripheral vision, I can see the glow of his particles,” Kari
whispered.
Sometimes, the best way to see a spirit was by looking with
peripheral vision. Some ghosts would not allow themselves to be
seen straight on.
“Why don’t we try the flashlights,” Livvy suggested and she and
Liam opened the metal case and removed three flashlights.
Ella and Kari set them up on the ground, and Ella explained what
the ghost could do to communicate. “I’ll ask a question and if you’d
like to respond, you can light up the flashlight on the left for yes and
the right one for no. If you’re unsure, you can light the center
flashlight.”
Ella began. “Are we correct in assuming your name is Henry?”
The flashlights stayed dark.
“Did you live during the Revolutionary War?”
Nothing.
Ella turned around suddenly and walked over to the metal case.
“Let’s use candles.” She removed three white candles and, keeping
one for herself, she handed one to Kari and one to Livvy. “Let’s stand
in a straight line next to each other.”
When the three women were shoulder-to-shoulder, Ella spoke to
the ghost and asked again, “Is your name Henry?”
The candle on the left sputtered and lit up to indicate yes.
“Oh, look at that.” A broad smile crossed Kari’s face. “Brilliant
idea to use the candles. Henry prefers something he’s familiar with.”
“Did you live in Lexington?”
 Yes.
“Did you fight the British in Concord and Lexington?”
Yes.
“Did you fight in other battles on other days?”
No.
Ella and Livvy shared a look.
“Did you die on the first day of fighting?”
Yes.
A terrible, haunting wail filled the air as if it was coming from all
sides of the forest.
“We’re sorry to hear that.” Ella had to raise her voice to be heard
over the sorrowful cries. “We’d like to help you.”
While the wailing continued, Raisin walked forward along the
river and when she sat down, she looked up at the glowing atoms in
front of her.
Slowly, slowly, the crying lessened in intensity until only soft
whimpering sounds could be heard.
Livvy leaned closer to her sister. “It seems Henry likes Raisin.”
Although the humans couldn’t see Henry’s form, Raisin appeared
to be rubbing against the man’s legs. In less than a minute, the
whimpering ceased.
“Can I ask you a few more questions, Henry?” Ella spoke to the
ghost.
The candle on the left lit up. Yes. The flame went out.
“Sometimes, spirits decide not to cross right after they pass away
and the white ball of light that shows the way to the other side
disappears. It can be hard to locate it again, but we can help you
find it. Are you ready to cross now, Henry?”
The candle on the right lit up. No.
“You want to stay here a little longer?” Ella asked.
Yes.
“That’s okay. It’s fine for you to stay. There’s something we’d like
to ask you to do though. Some of the tourists don’t understand and
become frightened when they see you. Would you be able to keep
out of their view and try not to scare them?”
 The candles stayed unlit for thirty seconds when suddenly the
middle one lit up and quickly went out.
“That’s a maybe? Okay. Thank you for that. We’d appreciate it,”
Livvy said.
“Is there something you need? Is there something we can help
you with?” Ella asked.
Again, it took a while for a reply, but when it came, the left
candle lit up.
“Yes, there’s something we can help you with.” Ella smiled. “Can
you speak to us, Henry?”
No.
“Okay. It will take us a little longer to figure out what we can do
to help, but we’ll find the answer eventually. It will take patience
from you and us, but I promise we’ll figure it out.”
Suddenly, the visible atoms that could be seen of Henry flared
bright and began to spin faster and faster until they sparked and
disappeared.
“I guess that’s all for tonight,” Ella said as she watched the last
particle flash and go out.
“That was a heck of a lot more than what I’ve been able to get
from him.” Kari sounded relieved. “It’s a coincidence, huh, that
Henry is from Revolutionary times and your most recent ghost, Joe,
was a Revolutionary reenactor?”
Ella, Livvy, and Liam exchanged looks of unease as Raisin let out
a long, loud howl.
 5

All the way home from Lexington, Ella and Livvy, with Liam piping in
from time to time, discussed the strange coincidence of Joe and
Henry’s connection to the Revolutionary War.
“I think it’s weird,” Livvy said. “There must be some significance.”
“But what is it?” Ella asked. “Joe was just a reenactor. He had an
interest in the birth of the nation. Lots of soldiers fought in the war
and lots of them lost their lives, just like Henry did.”
“Has Henry always been hanging around Minute Man Park?” Liam
asked. “Or is his appearance something new?”
“He has been seen during the month of November previously, but
his antics are something new. He’s been stirring up trouble for about
a month,” Ella explained.
“Why, I wonder?” Liam questioned. “Has he been on this side of
things since he died or did he cross over and come back just
recently? Can spirits cross and then return?”
“It’s unusual for a spirit to do that,” Livvy reported. “We’ve never
met one who did so. Usually, when a ghost crosses, they don’t come
back.”
“But it’s possible?” Liam asked.
“Yes, it’s possible.” Ella slowed the car as it went into a curve.
Liam asked another question. “So does Kari know if the ghost
has been on this side of the worlds since 1775 or did he cross over
and then return?”
 “She doesn’t know.” Livvy texted her husband telling him they
were on the way home.
“I think the main question is why is Henry making a fuss now,
after nearly two-hundred-and-fifty years?” Liam asked.
“You ask good questions,” Livvy told the man. “But the answers
are often hard to find.”
Ella dropped Livvy at her house and promised to stop in to her
store, Sit A Spell, sometime tomorrow, then she drove to her own
place where Liam had left his car.
“Do you want to come in for some tea?” Ella asked her friend.
“I would like to, but I have a deadline for an article so I need to
get back to my apartment and get it finished.” Liam carried Raisin
out of the car and gently placed her on the driveway. “Do you still
want to hike tomorrow?”
“I definitely do. I need the exercise. I’ve been spending a lot of
time planning the curriculum for the new course I’m teaching in the
spring.”
“What course is it?”
“Introduction to ghost hunting,” Ella told him.
Liam’s mouth dropped open as he stared at Ella. “Really? The
administration is allowing you to teach that?”
A wide grin spread over Ella’s lips. “I’m teasing you.”
Liam rolled his eyes. “And I believed you for a second.”
“More than a second,” Ella kidded him. “The new course is
actually The Genius of Benjamin Franklin.”
“Maybe I’ll come by some days and sit in,” Liam smiled.
“You’re welcome to come.”
After Liam said goodnight to Ella and Raisin and drove away to
his apartment, Ella opened the backdoor to her antique Cape Cod
house, and in fifteen minutes, she and the cat had eaten, Ella had
changed into comfortable clothes, and she’d made a fire in the
woodstove. When she and Raisin curled up on the sofa, the heat
from the stove made them both sleepy and Ella had to fight to stay
awake in order to do her grading for her class.
Raisin lifted her head and looked to the family room’s big
windows that looked out over the backyard. Ella noticed the cat’s
attention had shifted right when a knock came on the backdoor
causing her to startle.
“Ella? It’s me.” Ben peeked into the room through the glass
window in the door.
Ella unlocked the door and pulled it open for her brother. “Ben. I
wasn’t expecting you. Is everything okay?”
Ben sat down next to Raisin and patted her while he spoke. “I
had a visitor a little while ago. I didn’t want to talk to you on the
phone so I jogged over from my house.”
Ella waited to hear about Ben’s visitor. “Who was it?” The words
were barely out of her mouth, when her eyes widened. “Was it …
Joe?”
Ben ran his hand over his face. “It was. I could only see his
particles. He never fully formed. I was surprised, to say the least.”
Ella leaned closer to her brother. “Were you able to
communicate?”
“Barely. I was in the barn working on a piece. A cold wind
whipped into the space. I knew it wasn’t a naturally-occurring
breeze. I couldn’t see anyone, but when I looked around with
peripheral vision, I spotted the glowing particles. I sure wished you
were there.”
“Are you sure it was Joe?” Ella asked as Raisin curled up on Ben’s
lap.
“I know it was him. After the breeze came through, a crushing
sadness pressed on me and pulled me down. It was a heavy, heavy
grief.” Ben’s words caught in his throat for a moment.
Ella reached out and took her brother’s hand.
Ben shook his head. “Then there was an awful wailing sound. It
went on and on. I thought my eardrums would explode. Thankfully,
it stopped after about two minutes, but it was a very long two
minutes.”
“Did Joe leave then?”
“No. His atoms grew brighter, but he still didn’t fully materialize. I
spoke to him, told him I knew he was here, explained that he had
passed, and that everything would be fine. I told him he didn’t need
to be afraid or worried, and we’d help him … he isn’t alone. I
explained that we could see spirits and had a lot of experience
helping them out. I told him he could stay at my house if that would
make him feel better or he could return to his own place.”
“Do you think he understood?” Ella asked.
Ben nodded. “Yeah, I think so. He went quiet. The atoms moved
closer to me. I think Joe wanted to watch me make something. I
know that sounds strange, but when he was alive, he really enjoyed
watching me craft something from the iron. I think it was a calming
process for him. So I continued with what I was making. I talked to
him, told him what I was doing, who the lantern was for, and what
I’d be making later.” Ben smiled. “If anyone walked up while I was
talking, they would have thought I’d lost it. I was chattering on and
on and no one was in the barn with me … at least, no one who was
visible.”
Raisin trilled at the young man.
“I think what you did was perfect,” Ella praised her brother. “I bet
going about your business and talking normally to Joe helped ease
his anxiety. You did the right thing. Is Joe still at your house?”
“No. He stayed for about two hours and then his atoms lost their
brightness and he disappeared.”
“I bet he went home.”
“It made me feel really bad,” Ben admitted. “I did ask Joe if he
wanted to cross over, but he didn’t give me any indication that he
was ready to do that.”
“We’ll go back tomorrow evening to see Joe. Hopefully, the police
will have finished examining the house and they won’t be around.
Livvy and I will spend some time telling Joe what happened to him
and explain about crossing to the other side.”
“Good. I have to work tomorrow night so I won’t be able to go
with you.”
“It’s okay. He knows us now. He saw us earlier today.”
As Ben ran his hand over the cat’s silky fur, he seemed like he’d
shaken off the gloom he’d arrived with. “You’ll help Joe. What
happened to him was shocking. We have to expect he’ll have a
difficult time coming to terms with his fate, but you have a calming
influence and you’ll be able to make him feel less lost.”
 Ella squeezed her brother’s shoulder. “Do you want some tea? Or
maybe, a beer?”
“I would, but I’m feeling exhausted. I’m going to head home.”
“Want me to walk with you?”
“Yes.” Ben looked down at the cat. “What about you, Cutie Cat?
Will you walk me home?”
Raisin meowed, jumped off Ben’s lap, and padded to the door.
When they were heading down the sidewalk, Ava, Ben’s girlfriend,
came walking towards them. She hugged Ben and asked if he was
all right.
“Did you see the ghost?” Ella asked the young woman.
“Briefly,” Ava said. “I came home from work and saw Ben in the
barn. I could see the glowing atoms beside him. I didn’t want to
disturb the encounter so I went into the house. I did hear the
terrible wailing sound though.” She rubbed at her ear, and then
looked at her boyfriend. “I thought I’d walk over and see how you
were.”
“I’m okay.” Ben put his arm around Ava’s shoulders and smiled at
her. “Thanks for coming to check on me.” Ben reached for Ella’s
hand and held it for a moment. “Thanks.”
“You bet,” Ella smiled.
“Good night, Raisin,” Ben told the cat and received a purring
sound in response.
When Ella and the cat arrived back in the family room, there was
a glowing presence standing by the woodstove. Raisin trilled a
welcome.
“Hello, Dorothy,” Ella said.
Dorothy Browning and her husband, Myles, were the original
owners of Ella’s 1789 Cape house, and when Dorothy passed, she
made the decision to remain in the dwelling she’d loved and raised a
family in.
“Some trouble?” Dorothy asked Ella by using her mind, not
spoken words.
“Some,” Ella told her.
“Your gift comes with responsibility,” Dorothy said.
 “I know. I’m grateful for my ability and I’m glad to be able to
help.”
“That’s good, because you’re going to have to give a whole heap
of help this time. Keep your eyes open for danger.”
Ella eyed the ghost who was always speaking cryptically to her,
giving her warnings, but with no details to prepare for. “Do I need to
have a family circle?”
“Not yet, but probably, later.” Dorothy’s form glimmered and then
she was gone.
Raisin meowed at Ella.
“Every time,” Ella muttered. “Dorothy warns me of something,
but never tells me what it is or when it will strike. Every darn time.”
 6

Bright and early the next morning, Ella and Livvy sat, shoulder-to-
shoulder, at one of the small round tables in Livvy’s shop reading Joe
Bigelow’s obituary on Livvy’s phone.
“He was only thirty-five.” Ella shook her head.
Livvy scrolled down on the article. “Look. Here is Joe’s former
wife’s name. Jennifer Chandler. She lives two towns over from here.”
Ella scribbled the name on a slip of paper so they could arrange a
meeting with her.
“The obituary also mentions the name of the reenactors
organization Joe belonged to.” Livvy was excited. “We can contact
them and talk to some of the reenactors Joe was friendly with.”
“Is anyone else listed? A friend? A relative?” Ella hoped there
would be other people who knew Joe well.
“His parents are both deceased. Oh, he had a sister, Penelope
Dixon. She lives in Newburyport.”
“Okay, great. Another person to speak with.” Ella looked up from
the paper she was making notes on. “Is a girlfriend mentioned?”
Livvy shook her head. “No girlfriend.”
Ella cocked her head to the side and her eyes narrowed in
thought. “Who gave the funeral home the information then? The
sister?”
“Maybe a friend? Maybe someone Joe worked with? We need to
visit his Quinsigamond restaurant and talk to some of the
employees.”
Checking the time, Ella said, “I need to be in class in thirty
minutes. I’ll meet you late this afternoon to go talk with Joe?”
“I’ll walk over to your house and we can ride to Poet’s Hill
together.”
As they were deciding on a time to meet, a tall man approached
their table and they looked up to see Detective Jonas Damon
standing over them.
Ella was surprised to see the man. “Oh, hi.”
“Want to join us?” Livvy asked.
With a nod, Jonas sat and set down the coffee he’d ordered at
the take-out counter. “I was in the neighborhood and decided to
stop for a coffee. I forgot you owned this place until I walked in. My
injuries from the attack have left me with some memory issues.” The
detective absent-mindedly rubbed his forehead. “The doctors tell me
it will pass eventually.”
“You’ve made a remarkable recovery, and in such a short time,
too,” Ella said encouragingly.
Jonas gave a weary smile. “To be honest, it feels like a century
has passed. I need to learn to be patient. I’m not used to being an
invalid.”
Livvy shook her head. “You’re hardly an invalid, but I understand
a little of what you’re saying. When I broke my leg and had to have
surgery a few years ago, I felt really down, I didn’t have much
energy. Everything was so difficult, I couldn’t drive, I needed help
carrying things. We take our physical abilities for granted and it’s
hard to adjust when something happens. An accident or injury can
show us our vulnerabilities.”
“And our mortality.” Jonas lifted his coffee to his mouth.
“We see that a lot,” Ella said softly, referring to the spirits they’d
helped along the way.
“I guess your family understands mortality better than most
people do,” Jonas admitted. “Talking with you about your
investigations has made me hopeful there is something on the other
side. I just don’t want to go there for a long time.”
 “I’m with you on that,” Livvy chuckled. “With any luck, we’re all
like cats and have nine lives.”
“Well, I must be down to eight lives now,” Jonas told them.
“Speaking of cats, where’s Raisin?”
“She’s spending the day at home,” Ella smiled. “I have a full load
of work at the university today.”
“Are you working on the Joe Bigelow case?” Livvy asked the
detective.
“Still unofficially. Sitting at the desk doing paperwork at the police
station is driving me nuts. Thankfully, it’s only two days a week. I’ve
been assisting the team informally. It gives me something to do and
keeps me from going stir-crazy.”
“Good idea.” Ella nodded. “Has suicide been ruled out?”
“It has, yes.”
“Are there any suspects?” Ella asked.
“Not yet.”
“Do you think there was more than one attacker?”
“I don’t think so, but a final determination hasn’t been made.”
“Why do you think there was only one attacker?” Livvy wondered
if Jonas would share any details with them.
Jonas looked from Livvy to Ella and lowered his voice. “It seems
that Mr. Bigelow might have been drugged prior to being hanged.
We believe the man was dead before the noose was placed around
his neck.”
“So if Joe was already dead, what was the point of hanging him?
Was it some sort of message?” Livvy asked. “Was it something
symbolic?”
“Unknown,” Jonas said.
“It must not have been an easy task to handle a dead body and
get him in position like that,” Ella pointed out. “If Joe was already
dead, why bother? Unless the killer was sending a message or was
trying to make a point.”
“If the intended message is figured out, maybe it will help point
to the attacker,” Livvy said.
“Possibly,” the detective said.
 “Is there anything in Joe’s house that could indicate who the
killer might be?” Ella questioned.
“The house is beautiful, tastefully and carefully decorated with
period furniture and artwork. Joe must have had a designer to help
with it. There were signs of a struggle in a few of the rooms.”
“Nothing unusual, as far as the struggle is concerned?” Ella
asked.
Jonas shrugged.
Livvy leaned forward. “Anything interesting about the house
besides it being so fine?”
“Joe was a collector. He had cabinets displaying Early American
and Colonial items. He had several objects dating back to the
Revolutionary War. We understand the items are worth a good deal
of money.”
Ella sat up. “But they’re still in the house? Nothing was stolen?”
“It doesn’t seem so. The investigators are still looking into that,”
Jonas said.
“Then the attacker didn’t know the worth of the items,” Livvy
assumed.
“Could that mean the attack was an act of revenge or rage?” Ella
questioned.
“The motivation is unknown,” the detective reported.
The sisters were getting the impression that Jonas probably knew
more than he was letting on and was being evasive about the
details.
“Is Joe Bigelow … still around?” Jonas was clearly uncomfortable
asking the question. “Did you see him the other night?”
Livvy took a quick glance at Ella. “Yes, we did.”
“He didn’t cross.” Jonas took in a long breath. “Did you
communicate with him?”
Ella sighed. “It was difficult. The man was distraught. We tried to
console him and explain what had happened. Joe was at our
brother’s barn last night. He doesn’t fully form, but we’re able to see
his particles and we can feel his grief. We haven’t reached the point
where we can communicate meaningfully with him.”
 “I see.” Jonas swallowed and looked down at the table. “Will you
be able to communicate with him eventually?”
“Possibly,” Livvy said. “Every spirit is unique.”
“Well, I hope you can help him.” Jonas stood up abruptly. “I’d
better get going. Nice to see you both.” He turned and hurried out of
the shop.
“I think Jonas is still reeling from the attack he suffered,” Ella
pointed out. “It seems to have taken an emotional toll on him as
well as a physical one. It’s not surprising. Death, spirits, distress …
he seems more impacted by it all than he was when we first met
him.”
“Like he said, the attack made him think more about vulnerability
and mortality. I bet he’ll be more open to believing that a spirit lives
on after the body has passed away. Maybe that notion will be
comforting to him,” Livvy said.
“He seems to still be wrestling with the ideas. It’s a lot to absorb.
You spend your life thinking one way, and then your belief system
gets shaken. He needs time.”
“Any thoughts about the little bit of information Jonas shared
with us?” Livvy asked her sister.
“Whoever killed Joe didn’t know the worth of the collection in his
house. Nothing has been obviously stolen so robbery mustn’t have
been the sole motive.”
“I’d agree with that especially since the killer seems to have
drugged Joe, killed him, and then strung him up after he was dead.
It’s weird. There’s a more compelling reason to hurt Joe in the killer’s
mind besides simple robbery.”
“To commit a crime like that points to some deep-seated hate or
rage, or revenge as the reason,” Ella suggested.
“Yeah,” Livvy groaned. “If we work on this case, we’ll be wading
into some dangerous territory.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Dorothy already showed up with a warning
for me.”
Livvy made a face. “Did she suggest a family circle?”
During the last case the family was involved with, Dorothy told
Ella to have the family take part in a circle … where the family
members perform a ceremony designed to protect each other or
someone in particular.
“She brought it up, but implied that it was something to do later
on, not right now.”
Livvy blew out a breath. “Okay. We’re safe … for now. Maybe
tonight, we’ll see Joe, he’ll be ready to cross over, we’ll do our thing
to help him, and then we’ll be off the hook. The police can
investigate on their own.”
With a smile, Ella said, “Ever the optimist.”
Livvy nodded. “We’ve still got the Revolutionary War soldier to
deal with.”
“Yeah. Isn’t it strange that we’ve got two ghosts with connections
to Revolutionary times?”
“It sure is,” Livvy agreed, and with a slow shake of her head, she
added, “We’ve got a lot of work to do, sis.”
 7

Jennifer Chandler was thirty-five years old with chin-length sandy

blond hair and blue eyes. Ella and Livvy sat with her in the
comfortable and nicely-decorated living room of the woman’s home
in Westborough.
“My husband took the kids and went out for an hour so we could
have some quiet time to talk,” Jennifer told them with a smile. “We
have two-year twins and they run us ragged.”
“I have a four-year-old,” Livvy told the woman. “He’s a great kid,
but being a mom is demanding. I don’t know how you manage
twins.”
Jennifer laughed. “I don’t have any choice.”
After a few more minutes of chatting, Ella said, “We’re very sorry
about your ex-husband.”
The young woman’s eyes darkened. “Thanks. Joe and I have
been apart for a little more than five years. A year after our divorce
was finalized, I met my husband. The year after that we got
married, and a year later, we had the twins. It’s been a whirlwind,
but a good whirlwind.”
“You and Joe were married for five years?” Livvy asked.
“That’s right. Things were great at the beginning, but two years
into the marriage, Joe informed me he’d changed his mind about
having children. I’ve always wanted a family and he and I discussed
it before we got engaged. Joe told me he wanted kids. I was pretty
surprised and shaken up by his announcement he’d decided it wasn’t
for him. Really, right then and there, I knew we wouldn’t stay
married. I resented him after that. I didn’t feel like he took my wants
and needs into consideration. I thought we should talk about it, but
he wouldn’t. He’d made up his mind and that was the end of it.”
“Was there a reason Joe changed his mind?” Ella asked. “Did
something happen that soured him on having a family?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Jennifer said. “If I brought it up, he
refused to discuss it. He told me he would never change his mind. I
even suggested couple’s counseling, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
“You were the one who initiated the divorce?” Livvy said.
“Officially, yes. Unofficially, Joe was the one who ended our
marriage.” Jennifer shook her head and looked down at her hands.
“The worst part of it was that Joe wouldn’t talk to me about how he
was feeling, why he’d come to the decision. I couldn’t understand
why he didn’t take my feelings into account. I thought if we talked,
we could explain our needs to each other, we could come to a
mutual decision. That’s not how it was. I thought if he handled that
decision so individually, then that was probably how he would
behave all the time. I didn’t want that. I was very sad about it.”
“Did you and Joe live together in the Colonial on Poet’s Hill or did
he buy the house after you broke up?” Ella asked.
“We lived there together.” Jennifer sighed. “That was a mistake
on my part. Joe owned the house while we were dating. I thought
we should buy a place that we picked out together, but he wouldn’t
agree to sell the Colonial so that’s where we lived. I never felt like
the house was mine. I always felt like I was visiting Joe in his house.
I didn’t have a say in decorating the place. All of the decisions were
made by Joe. That should have been a tipoff to me, but I loved him
and let it go.”
“Joe’s obituary reported he had a sister,” Livvy said.
“Yes. Penelope. She lives in Newburyport. Joe and Penny didn’t
see each other very much.”
“Did they have a falling out?”
“There was no falling out. Joe was fond of his sister. Penny is
about seven or eight years older. She went away to boarding school
for middle and high school, and then for college. I don’t think she
and Joe lived together more than four years.”
“Did Joe come from money?”
“He did. His father started a hedge fund. They were millionaires
many times over. Joe’s father gave him the money to start his
restaurants. Joe was a good business person, but without that initial
infusion of cash, I don’t know if things would have been so
successful for him.”
“Where did Joe grow up?”
“He grew up in Weston, attended private schools. He started his
restaurants in Quinsigamond because the cost of starting up was so
much lower than in the Boston area, and we both liked central
Massachusetts.”
“Had you been in touch with Joe recently?” Livvy asked.
“We’d talk a few times a year. We had an amenable breakup. We
wanted to stay friends. Joe even came to my wedding and he always
sent gifts to our kids. I think it was about a month ago that we
talked last.”
Ella nodded, impressed by Joe and Jennifer’s ability to remain
cordial with one another.
“Did Joe seem like himself when you talked?”
“He did.”
“Did he mention anything that was bothering him? Any issues
with someone? Anything going wrong?” Ella asked.
“A friend and I went to his restaurant in Quinsigamond and Joe
was there that night. He seemed really busy and maybe a little
stressed out, but he was friendly and happy to see us.”
“In the past, did Joe have any enemies or maybe ran into some
trouble with anyone?”
“Nothing serious. There are always squabbles or issues at work
or with a contractor or a supplier,” Jennifer said. “Just the usual little
annoyances.”
“Can you think of anyone who seemed to hold a grudge against
Joe?”
Jennifer’s forehead scrunched in thought. “No one.”
“Do you have any idea who could have killed him?”
Another random document with
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by shrieks of “Welcome!” and spears most unpleasantly rattled over
our heads expressive of the same feeling. This annoyance was not
however of long duration; Barca Gana, the sheikh’s first general, a
negro of a noble aspect, clothed in a figured silk tobe, and mounted
on a beautiful Mandara horse, made his appearance; and, after a
little delay, the rear was cleared of those who had pressed in upon
us, and we moved on, although but very slowly, from the frequent
impediment thrown in our way by these wild equestrians.
The sheikh’s negroes, as they were called, meaning the black
chiefs and favourites, all raised to that rank by some deed of bravery,
were habited in coats of mail composed of iron chain, which covered
them from the throat to the knees, dividing behind, and coming on
each side of the horse: some of them had helmets, or rather
skullcaps, of the same metal, with chin-pieces, all sufficiently strong
to ward off the shock of a spear. Their horses’ heads were also
defended by plates of iron, brass, and silver, just leaving sufficient
room for the eyes of the animal.
At length, on arriving at the gate of the town, ourselves, Boo-
Khaloom, and about a dozen of his followers, were alone allowed to
enter the gates; and we proceeded along a wide street completely
lined with spearmen on foot, with cavalry in front of them, to the door
of the sheikh’s residence. Here the horsemen were formed up three
deep, and we came to a stand: some of the chief attendants came
out, and after a great many “Barca’s! Barca’s!” retired, when others
performed the same ceremony. We were now again left sitting on our
horses in the sun: Boo-Khaloom began to lose all patience, and
swore by the bashaw’s head, that he would return to the tents if he
was not immediately admitted: he got, however, no satisfaction but a
motion of the hand from one of the chiefs, meaning “wait patiently;”
and I whispered to him the necessity of obeying as we were
hemmed in on all sides, and to retire without permission would have
been as difficult as to advance. Barca Gana now appeared, and
made a sign that Boo-Khaloom should dismount: we were about to
follow his example, when an intimation that Boo-Khaloom was alone
to be admitted again fixed us to our saddles. Another half hour at
least passed without any news from the interior of the building; when
the gates opened, and the four Englishmen only were called for, and
we advanced to the skiffa (entrance). Here we were stopped most
unceremoniously by the black guards in waiting, and were allowed,
one by one only, to ascend a staircase; at the top of which we were
again brought to a stand by crossed spears, and the open flat hand
of a negro laid upon our breast. Boo-Khaloom came from the inner
chamber, and asked “If we were prepared to salute the sheikh as we
did the bashaw?” We replied “Certainly:” which was merely an
inclination of the head, and laying the right hand on the heart. He
advised our laying our hands also on our heads, but we replied, “the
thing was impossible! we had but one manner of salutation for any
body, except our own sovereign.”
 From a Sketch by Major Denham. Engraved by E. Finden.

BODY GUARD
OF THE SHEIKH OF BORNOU.
Published Feb. 1826, by John Murray, London.

Another parley now took place, but in a minute or two he returned,

and we were ushered into the presence of this Sheikh of Spears. We
found him in a small dark room, sitting on a carpet, plainly dressed in
a blue tobe of Soudan and a shawl turban. Two negroes were on
each side of him, armed with pistols, and on his carpet lay a brace of
these instruments. Fire-arms were hanging in different parts of the
room, presents from the bashaw and Mustapha L’Achmar, the sultan
of Fezzan, which are here considered as invaluable. His personal
appearance was prepossessing, apparently not more than forty-five
or forty-six, with an expressive countenance, and a benevolent
smile. We delivered our letter from the bashaw; and after he had
read it, he inquired “what was our object in coming?” We answered,
“to see the country merely, and to give an account of its inhabitants,
produce, and appearance; as our sultan was desirous of knowing
every part of the globe.” His reply was, “that we were welcome! and
whatever he could show us would give him pleasure: that he had
ordered huts to be built for us in the town; and that we might then go,
accompanied by one of his people, to see them; and that when we
were recovered from the fatigue of our long journey, he would be
happy to see us.” With this we took our leave.
Our huts were little round mud buildings, placed within a wall, at
no great distance from the residence of the sheikh: the inclosure was
quadrangular, and had several divisions formed by partitions of straw
mats, where nests of huts were built, and occupied by the stranger
merchants who accompanied the kafila: one of these divisions was
assigned to us, and we crept into the shade of our earthy dwellings,
not a little fatigued with our entré and presentation.

FOOTNOTES:

[9]The surface is of a dark colour, with here and there patches

and streaks of a snowy white. It is uneven from the heaping, as it
were, of large flat clods on each other: these are all hollow
underneath, and have a very uneven surface, from the number of
projections. What I have remarked was observed in all the salt
fields we have seen. The heaping of the salty clods, and the
circulation of air underneath, are phenonema attending this
formation which it is difficult to explain—Are they the production of
art, or of nature alone? In the numerous gardens at Traghan, and
other places left fallow, we observe, on the small scale, an
appearance like this, and the earthy clods soon became strongly
impregnated with salt: the degree is not comparable to what is
seen in the large salt plain. The salt is of two kinds; one a white
snowy-looking efflorescence, that is often several inches thick, the
other with an earthy-coloured shining surface.—W. O.
 [10]The sand of a fine cream colour: yesterday it had many
particles of a black substance mixed with it.
Exposed rocks, sandstone of different kinds, mostly red, and a
black kind like basalt from iron; fine specimens of petrified wood;
the centre, sap, vessels and knots filled with a calcareous matter,
the woody fibre changed into a siliceous substance; beautiful
conical layers, and lines running like rays, from the centre to the
circumference. Many columnar mounds of clay in the first basin,
about ten feet high—the clay as if semi-baked: many are round,
and the one we went to about thirty feet in circumference; these
were probably the original height of the surface: the present form
arises from the other part being washed away.
The depth of the well at Meshroo is from sixteen to twenty feet:
the water good, and free from saline impregnations: the ground
around is strewed with human skeletons, the slaves who have
arrived exhausted with thirst and fatigue. The horrid
consequences of the slave trade were strongly brought to our
mind; and, although its horrors are not equal to those of the
European trade, still they are sufficient to call up every sympathy,
and rouse up every spark of humanity. They are dragged over
deserts, water often fails, and provisions scarcely provided for the
long and dreary journey. The Moors ascribe the numbers to the
cruelty of the Tibboo traders: there is, perhaps, too much truth in
the accusation. Every few miles a skeleton was seen through the
whole day; some were partially covered with sand, others with
only a small mound, formed by the wind: one hand often lay
under the head, and frequently both, as if in the act of
compressing the head. The skin and membranous substance all
shrivel up, and dry from the state of the air: the thick muscular
and internal parts only decay.
Course through basins, having low, rugged, conical hills to the
eastward. The hills have a great similarity of geological structure
to those of western Fezzan and Ghraat.
a Sandstone of fine texture, of a black colour, giving it the
b appearance of basalt.
c Aluminous shistus.
d Clay iron stone, with here and there strata of bluish clay.
e Fine white sandstone, mixed with a large quantity of lime.

There is a fine blue, very hard stone, with slender white lime
streaks, forming the surface of many of the lower grounds,
evidently of recent formation. A similar formation is seen in the
large sterile plain between the hills of Fezzan to the westward,
and the Tuarick range: the fine white sandstone is found deep in
the same hills; the aluminous slate in abundance. The kind of
sandstone, the other rocks and similarity of appearance, show a
sameness of geological structure as far as we have gone.
From a fine pass between two of the hills, the view from above
had something of the grand. A rocky and sandy space, about two
hundred yards broad, bounded on each side by a high rugged
black hill, below a fine level plain, with low hills in the distance.
The descent of the camels fine, and accomplished without an
accident.
 a sandstone.

b red and yellow iron ore, in

very thick beds.

c sandstone.

d white shistus.

e white sandstone.

The surface of the plain has strata of a slatiform blue stone;

frequently, however, massive, and so hard as not to be scratched
by iron; imbedded in it is a large quantity of periform iron ore.
After traversing this plain, we ascended a low hilly range, and
passed across its stony surface. From here we saw El-Wahr, or
Difficult: it is between two high hills. We passed many skeletons,
both of human beings and camels, which always kept us in mind
of the dangers we were exposed to.—W. O.
[11]El-Wahr. The surface sandy till we approached the hills,
then it changed to stony. The black hills with cones, peaks, and a
columnar-looking cap, reminded us of what we had seen before.
The gloom of these places in the dusk has something grand and
awful. We winded up, with the light of a moon not a quarter old,
and that lessened by a cloudy sky. Some sandy and pebbly beds,
as of a stream, and in one place high clayey banks, with iron ore
underneath. Skeletons lay about, mangled in a shocking manner;
here a leg, there an arm, fixed with their ligaments, at
considerable distances from the trunk. What could have done
this? Man forced by hunger, or the camels? The latter are very
fond of chewing dried bones, but whether they ever do so to
those with dried flesh on them, I cannot say.—W. O.
[12]Several of our camels are drunk to-day: their eyes are
heavy, and want animation; gait staggering, and every now and
then, falling as a man in a state of intoxication. It arose from
eating dates after drinking water; these probably pass into the
spirituous fermentation in the stomach.—W. O.
 [13]Our road by the side of detached hills, and several small
chains, having rocky and sandy windings among them. The
detached hills were mostly conical, with fine columnar tops, as if
capped with basalt,—all, however, was of sandstone. The sombre
appearance and solitariness of the situations, the form of the hills,
and the dreariness of nature around, gave a gloomy cast to every
object, which the beauty and life of a large kafila could not
eradicate.—W. O.
[14]The Tibboos were positive as to this distance, which we
could scarcely credit; they must mean, however, Tuarick days, or
a maherhy, equal to forty miles at least.
[15]We passed two salt water lakes at a short distance on the
west, which add much to the beauty of the scenery. There is
something to-day quite cheering: large groves of palm trees,
many beautiful acacias both in flower and fruit, and two fine, small
salt lakes. The lakes are about two miles in circumference, have
salt islands, and marshy borders: no salt, I believe, is taken from
them. They are the abodes of a beautiful bird of the plover
species.—W. O.
[16]The lakes have marshy borders, and high salt islands, as if
formed by man, which however are natural, and, the people say,
have existed since their remembrance. The saline materials are a
carbonate and muriate of soda: we saw no incrustations on the
bottom or surface: at this season, the same is the case in the
Bahr-Trona, in Fezzan. Each lake is not more than half or three-
fourths of a mile in circumference.—W. O.
[17]The hills run nearly north and south, edging a little to the
westward; they have numerous small bays or recesses, which
produce a fine echo; many places with saline incrustations, and
some of the large black patches like the frozen surface of a
recently ploughed field. Almost all the salt formations are in low,
protected situations; the water is near; and, often in the very
centre, you have fine fresh springs.—From whence is this salt
derived? I have already suggested that the air has a powerful
effect, and is a principal agent. There is no reason to believe
there are large subterranean salt beds; if these existed to any
great extent, we should not have the fresh springs so prevalent.—
W. O.
[18]We had a fine wadey the greater part of the way, and many
patches of saline incrustations; some exposed beds of red
sandstone, containing numerous nodules of iron ore. Hills of
much blacker colour; and a few have the appearance as of ruins
of towns and castles, on their summits. Passed three springs, like
the oozings at Traghen. A large tract of black surface, as if the
situation of an extensive salt bed, from which the salt had only
been removed a few years; it extends more than four or five miles
to the eastward, and was more than a mile across, on our road. It
is black and crispy, but has none of the irregular heapings taken
notice of in other salt plains.
There is another small town about two miles to the westward,
of the same name. Round it are a number of mud elevations,
which appear as if produced by mud volcanoes; but these are
artificial, and made for the preparation of salt. I had long wished
to see the extensive salt plain that afforded such copious
supplies: originally, no doubt, the large spaces I have several
times noticed afforded abundance, but the re-production could not
keep up with the quantity taken away. Art was employed to obtain
Nature; shallow pits were dug, which soon filled with water, and
its evaporation left thick layers of salt: high embankments were
raised round these, evidently to prevent currents of air. These
places have much the look of our tanyards, with small pits
partitioned from each other. The water is now strongly
impregnated; in summer a thick crust is formed, which is the salt
in use. One of these works apparently yields a large quantity of
salt every year. When removed, the sordes are heaped up on the
embankments. In the recesses there are many stalactites, of a
beautiful white colour, which consist of muriate and carbonate of
soda.
The great mystery is, the origin of the salt in all situations in
which the water is near the surface, and the inclemency of the
water prevented by shelter. It is highly probable all this vast
country was once a salt ocean; its height is nothing, considering
its distance inland. What effect has the want, or almost want of
rain,—for, as far as I can learn, no salt formations exist within the
boundaries of the rains? There are many fine fresh springs
issuing from the soil, and none of the wells are brackish; when the
water, however, remains some time stagnant, it gets impregnated
with saline matter.—W. O.
[19]Some curious tubular, hollow, coralliform productions were
picked up in the sand: they appear of very recent formation, and
evidently produced by rain and wind acting on the sand. The
particles are most minute; when broken, the substance has a
shining glassy appearance: some lie horizontally, but the general
position is perpendicular. The external surface is rough: the size
varies, both in length and circumference, from a few lines to an
inch and a half in the latter, and from an inch to a foot in the
former direction.
The wells are holes, about eighteen inches deep: the water has
a slight taste of carbonate of soda, that was strong at first, but
diminished greatly after some water had been drawn. The holes
fill very fast. The saline impregnation arises, very probably, from
the earth around falling, and being blown into the holes. Dibla is
bounded on the north by black sandstone and quartz hills, which
extend some way to the eastward; on the south by sand hills, and
by a winding wadey on the east. In the middle there are several
small conical hillocks with table-tops: the lower part is formed of a
fine schistus, of different colours, that next the base light and
white; over that, green, exactly resembling large well-dried leaves
of plants, which separate into the finest layers; the top is a black
bituminous matter, which crumbles into small pieces by the
slightest touch: these hillocks are from thirty to forty feet high, the
probable height of the valley in former days; and it is not unlikely
that the bituminous matter is a vegetable deposit. There are a few
acacias, but so few, that we could procure no firewood, and the
camels very little food.
A number of round semi-vitrified small stones were found on
the sands, which the people collected to use as bullets. The mode
of formation appears the same as the coralliform substances I
have mentioned. These substances, in great quantities, are said
to be formed after the rains that every now and then occur in this
quarter.
[20]There is grass in abundance, and small mounds covered
with a tetrandrous plant, called suag: its fruit a small drupa, which
is in great request in Bornou and Soudan, for removing sterility in
females. Boo Khaloom related one instance of a female, who had
been in that state eighteen years, but was cured by the fruit. It is
sweetish and hot to the taste, approaching to the Sisymbrium
nasturtium. In passing the plant, a heavy narcotic smell is always
perceived.—W. O.
[21]There is a very common grass which is grievously
annoying from the prickles on its husk: it adheres to the dress and
penetrates the skin. There is not one prickle, but the calyx is
studded round, and they fasten themselves like grappling irons.
These prickles may be considered one of the pests of the country:
there is scarcely a place free from them. Our dog Niger is unable
to walk, for they have got between his toes, and are adhering to
every part of his long silken hair.
 CHAPTER II.

KOUKA.

Our huts were immediately so crowded with visitors, that we had

not a moment’s peace, and the heat was insufferable. Boo-Khaloom
had delivered his presents from the bashaw, and brought us a
message of compliment, together with an intimation that our own
would be received on the following day. About noon we received a
summons to attend the sheikh; and we proceeded to the palace,
preceded by our negroes, bearing the articles destined for the sheikh
by our government; consisting of a double-barrelled gun, by
Wilkinson, with a box, and all the apparatus complete, a pair of
excellent pistols in a case, two pieces of superfine broad cloth, red
and blue, to which we added a set of china, and two bundles of
spices.
The ceremony of getting into the presence was ridiculous enough,
although nothing could be more plain and devoid of pretension than
the appearance of the sheikh himself. We passed through passages
lined with attendants, the front men sitting on their hams; and when
we advanced too quickly, we were suddenly arrested by these
fellows, who caught forcibly hold of us by the legs, and had not the
crowd prevented our falling, we should most infallibly have become
prostrate before arriving in the presence. Previous to entering into
the open court, in which we were received, our papouches, or
slippers, were whipped off by these active though sedentary
gentlemen of the chamber; and we were seated on some clean sand
on each side of a raised bench of earth, covered with a carpet, on
which the sheikh was reclining. We laid the gun and the pistols
together before him, and explained to him the locks, turnscrews, and
steel shot-cases holding two charges each, with all of which he
seemed exceedingly well pleased: the powder-flask, and the manner
in which the charge is divided from the body of powder, did not
escape his observation; the other articles were taken off by the
slaves, almost as soon as they were laid before him. Again we were
questioned as to the object of our visit. The sheikh, however, showed
evident satisfaction at our assurance that the king of England had
heard of Bornou and himself; and, immediately turning to his
kaganawha (counsellor), said, “This is in consequence of our
defeating the Begharmis.” Upon which, the chief who had most
distinguished himself in these memorable battles, Bagah Furby (the
gatherer of horses) seating himself in front of us, demanded, “Did he
ever hear of me?” The immediate reply of “Certainly” did wonders for
our cause. Exclamations were general; and, “Ah! then, your king
must be a great man!” was re-echoed from every side. We had
nothing offered us by way of refreshment, and took our leave.
I may here observe, that besides occasional presents of bullocks,
camel-loads of wheat and rice, leathern skins of butter, jars of honey,
and honey in the comb, five or six wooden bowls were sent us,
morning and evening, containing rice, with meat, paste made of
barley flour, savoury but very greasy; and on our first arrival, as
many had been sent of sweets, mostly composed of curd and honey.
In England a brace of trout might be considered as a handsome
present to a traveller sojourning in the neighbourhood of a stream,
but at Bornou things are done differently. A camel-load of bream,
and a sort of mullet, was thrown before our huts on the second
morning after our arrival; and for fear that should not be sufficient, in
the evening another was sent.
We had a fsug, or market, in front of one of the principal gates of
the town. Slaves, sheep, and bullocks, the latter in great numbers,
were the principal live stock for sale. There were at least fifteen
thousand persons gathered together, some of them coming from
places two and three days distant. Wheat, rice, and gussub, were
abundant: tamarinds in the pod, ground nuts, ban beans, ochroes,
and indigo; the latter is very good, and in great use amongst the
natives, to dye their tobes (shirts) and linen, stripes of deep indigo
colour, or stripes of it alternately with white, being highly esteemed
by most of the Bornou women: the leaves are moistened, and
pounded up altogether when they are formed into lumps, and so
brought to market. Of vegetables there was a great scarcity—onions,
bastard tomatoes, alone were offered for sale; and of fruits not any:
a few limes, which the sheikh had sent us from his garden, being the
only fruit we had seen in Bornou. Leather was in great quantities;
and the skins of the large snake, and pieces of the skin of the
crocodile, used as an ornament for the scabbards of their daggers,
were also brought to me for sale; and butter, leban (sour milk),
honey, and wooden bowls, from Soudan. The costumes of the
women, who for the most part were the vendors, were various: those
of Kanem and Bornou were most numerous, and the former was as
becoming as the latter had a contrary appearance. The variety in
costume amongst the ladies consists entirely in the head ornaments;
the only difference, in the scanty covering which is bestowed on the
other parts of the person, lies in the choice of the wearer, who either
ties the piece of linen, blue or white, under the arms, and across the
breasts, or fastens it rather fantastically on one shoulder, leaving one
breast naked. The Kanemboo women have small plaits of hair
hanging down all around the head, quite to the poll of the neck, with
a roll of leather or string of little brass beads in front, hanging down
from the centre on each side of the face, which has by no means an
unbecoming appearance: they have sometimes strings of silver rings
instead of the brass, and a large round silver ornament in front of
their foreheads. The female slaves from Musgow, a large kingdom to
the south-east of Mandara, are particularly disagreeable in their
appearance, although considered as very trustworthy, and capable
of great labour: their hair is rolled up in three large plaits, which
extend from the forehead to the back of the neck, like the Bornowy;
one larger in the centre, and two smaller on each side: they have
silver studs in their nose, and one large one just under the lower lip
of the size of a shilling, which goes quite through into the mouth; to
make room for this ornament, a tooth or two is sometimes displaced.
The principal slaves are generally intrusted with the sale of such
produce as the owner of them may have to dispose of; and if they
come from any distance, the whole is brought on bullocks, which are
harnessed after the fashion of the country, by a string or iron run
through the cartilage of the nose, and a saddle of mat. The masters
not unfrequently attend the fsug with their spears, and loiter about
without interfering; purchases are mostly made by exchange of one
commodity for another, or paid for by small beads, pieces of coral
and amber, or the coarse linen manufactured by all the people, and
sold at forty gubka[22] for a dollar. Amongst other articles offered to
me for sale by the people (who, if I stood still for an instant, crowded
round me) was a young lion and a monkey; the latter appeared really
the more dangerous of the two, and from being a degree or two
lighter in complexion than his master, he seemed to have taken a
decided aversion to me.
The lion walked about with great unconcern, confined merely by a
small rope round his neck held by the negro, who had caught him
when he was not two months old, and having had him for a period of
three months, now wished to part with him: he was about the size of
a donkey colt, with very large limbs, and the people seemed to go
very close to him without much alarm, notwithstanding he struck with
his foot the leg of one man who stood in his way, and made the
blood flow copiously: they opened the ring which was formed round
this noble animal as I approached; and, coming within two or three
yards of him, he fixed his eye upon me in a way that excited
sensations I cannot describe, from which I was awakened by the
fellow calling to me to come nearer, at the same time laying his hand
on the animal’s back; a moment’s recollection convinced me that
there could be no more danger nearer than where I was, and I
stepped boldly up beside the negro, and I believe should have laid
my hand on the lion the next moment; but after looking carelessly at
me, he brushed past my legs, broke the ring, and pulled his
conductor away with him, overturning several who stood before him,
and bounded off to another part where there were fewer people.
Feb. 22.—Boo-Khaloom came to us this morning, after seeing the
sheikh, and said, “that he had explained to him our anxiety to see
every thing, and take home the skins of birds, and gather the plants
that appeared most interesting to us, and to take notes of what we
saw.” The sheikh’s reply was, that “we, or any of our countrymen,
whom the bashaw thought proper to send, should be welcome to see
any part of his dominions, but that out of them he could not suffer us
at present to go.” Boo-Khaloom, who was fully aware of the ulterior
objects we had in view, and whose advice I always found dictated by
an anxious desire to serve us, was of the greatest use, from his
intimate acquaintance with the dispositions of the people; and he
was of opinion that we should, in the first instance, be satisfied with
this offer of the sheikh, and not alarm him, by declaring too abruptly
all our intentions. Accustomed as they are to plunder, and to be
plundered, at the sight of strangers, apparently possessing superior
powers, and superior weapons to themselves, their alarm is not to be
wondered at; and when these strangers were represented to them
as having come from a distance almost beyond their belief, for
purposes they could not in the least comprehend the importance of,
it required extreme delicacy and great management to tranquillize
their minds, and obtain their confidence.
A report had gone abroad, that one of our purposes was to build
ships, in which we should embark on the lake, return to our own
country, and then that the white people would come and destroy
them all. For these reports we had, I have no doubt, to thank some
of the Mourzuk merchants who had preceded us; and whose
frequent visits were as injurious to our stores as their advice would
have been to our interests, had not circumstances prevented the
latter from being acted upon.
Boo-Khaloom assured us “these reports had gained considerable
ground, but that he had explained to the sheikh how unfounded they
were; and what we proposed doing here was what had been done
during the last year by the bashaw’s permission, in many parts of the
regency of Tripoli.”
All the Arabs, who had formed our escort, were in great glee by
the report of the approach of the sultan of Begharmi, with a large
force, to within four short days of Kouka. The sheikh-el-Kanemy had,
in former expeditions, laid waste his whole country, each time driving
the sultan from Kermuk, or the capital. On the last occasion he had
destroyed, by fire, the towns which the natives had deserted, and
had remained nearly three months in the country. The sultan, with all
his family and slaves, had, as before, retired to the other side of a
large river, to the south of his dominions, inhabited by Kaffirs or
savages; but who, nevertheless, always afforded him shelter and
protection. This people were described as resembling the sands of
the desert in number; and they had now accompanied him to
revenge himself on the sheikh of Bornou. The prospect of plunder,
and making slaves, which these reports held out to the Arabs, raised
their spirits to such a degree, that they passed half the night in
debating how their booty was to be conveyed across the desert:
without remembering that their enemies were first to be conquered.
A gun being merely presented, they all declared sufficient to drive
away a thousand negroes. Could these poor creatures but once be
made to understand the real state of an Arab’s pouch, with seldom
more than one or two loads of bad powder, and the little dependence
to be placed in his firelock, a miserable French piece, of the original
value of about twelve shillings, that misses fire at least every other
time, how much more justly would they estimate the Arabs’ strength!
Feb. 24.—We heard this day that the Begharmis had halted at a
place called Gulphi, on hearing that Boo-Khaloom was here with a
party of Arab warriors; but it was strongly reported that the sheikh
would immediately send a force into their country, in order to punish
the sultan for even thinking of revenge.
Feb. 26.—Boo-Khaloom was to have seen the sheikh, in order to
convince him that all, and more than the presents destined for him
by our government, had been delivered to him; and we were
afterwards to see him ourselves, and request permission to visit
some of the neighbouring towns. After this interview, Boo-Khaloom
came to our huts, and explained to us that the sheikh had mentioned
merely to his chief attendant, that he had heard of a watch being
intended for him as well as the powder, and that as he had not seen
it, he was disappointed—he, however, desired us to visit him the
next day. The sheikh had given all Boo-Khaloom’s people a blue
tobe, and himself two very handsome female slaves from Soudan, of
a deep copper colour, under twenty years of age, with two others,
negresses, to attend on them. We had news this day that the people
of Begharmi had left Gulphi on their return home, and were about to
rebuild their capital.
Feb. 27.—We attended the sheikh, about three hours before
noon. He received us with considerable affability, and appeared
satisfied that his presents were all delivered to him: when the
explanation was given, he said nothing was necessary to secure his
good will; but they told him the articles he mentioned were brought,
and therefore he asked for them. Indeed, if the things had been
properly delivered at first, no question, I am sure, would have arisen
on the subject. He again inquired what were our wishes; no mention
was however made of the orders of our government, that any one
should remain for any time near him. He made numberless inquiries,
wished that the nature of a map should be described to him, and
begged that Ali (as Hillman the carpenter was called) should make
some boxes for him.
We asked to see the Tchad and the Shary, both of which waters,
with the old town of Bornou, he promised us we should visit in a few
days. He asked many questions about our manner of attacking a
walled town; and on our explaining to him that we had guns which
carried ball of twenty-four and thirty-two pounds weight, with which
we breached the wall, and then carried the place by assault, his
large dark eyes sparkled again, as he exclaimed, “Wonderful!
wonderful!” He inquired if we had any thing with us like wild-fire,
which could be thrown into a place and burn it; and was greatly
disappointed on our answering in the negative. I could not help
however consoling him by an assurance that what we had brought
him was that which we considered as likely to be most acceptable;
that before our coming he was a stranger; that now we should see
what he was most in need of; and that two camel-loads of
gunpowder were easier for us to send him than the like quantity of
dates from Fezzan. We promised at night to show him two rockets;
and we had scarcely eaten our dinner when Karawash, one of his
chiefs, came to say the sheikh was impatient, and very fortunately
there were in the town several of the hostile Shouaas—a dangerous
race of Arab origin, who occupy the frontier of his kingdom, and he
was anxious they should see the effect of these terrible fire-engines.
Mr. Clapperton fixed them on a rest of three spears in front of the
sheikh’s residence, before a crowd of persons; and the shrieks of the
people, both there assembled and in their huts, were heard for some
seconds after the rockets had ascended.
 Feb. 28.—There was a disturbance in the camp this morning that
nearly approached to direct mutiny, amongst Boo-Khaloom’s Arabs.
He had brought with him a very large assortment of valuable
merchandize, for which there was but little sale at either Kouka or
Angornou, and he was anxious to proceed to Soudan. The tghrees,
or infantry, refused to accompany him: they said the bashaw had
ordered them to come thus far with the English, and that Soudan
was bhaid (distant), and go they would not. Some one had hinted to
them that the sheikh wished to send a ghrazzie (marauding
expedition) to Begharmi, and that Boo-Khaloom opposed such wish,
as not consistent with his orders; and their profit being greater by an
expedition of plunder and cruelty, than by one of peace and
commerce, they preferred the east to the west. Boo-Khaloom
certainly had refused to proceed on one of these marauding
expeditions, much to the credit of his humanity, and highly
complimentary to the English nation; whose servant, he often
assured me, he felt himself to be on this mission. The Arabs,
however, knew the sheikh’s wishes, and things remained in a very
unsettled state.
I paid a visit this evening to Sooloo, one of the sheikh’s principal
Shouaas, to whom I had given a silk handkerchief in the morning: his
habitation consisted of two inclosures, besides one for his two
horses, cow, and goats, and may be taken as a sample of the best
residences in Kouka. In the first of these divisions was a circular hut,
with a cupola top, well thatched with gussub straw, something
resembling that of the Indian corn: the walls were of the same
materials; a mud wall, of about two feet high, separated one part
from the rest, and here his corn was kept; and a bench of like simple
composition, at the opposite side, was his resting-place: this was
covered with mats; and his spears, and wooden bowls for water and
milk, hung on pegs, completed the furniture: here was his own
apartment. In the second division there were two huts, rather
smaller, about ten paces from each other, in which dwelt his two
wives: they were called to the door, and desired to salute me; but on
looking up, uttered a scream, and hiding their faces with their hands,
crept back again so quickly, as to make me almost ashamed of my
complexion.
 March 1.—A few yams were sent us by the sheikh, the only ones
we had seen, and a great treat they proved to us, for it was the only
vegetable we had tasted for many months. A meeting took place this
morning at day-break, under a large tree in front of the sheikh’s
residence, and in his presence, between the Arab sheikhs and Boo-
Khaloom. The Arabs had appealed to him as their umpire; and
although he appeared not to take any part in their disputes, yet I
thought a disposition was very apparent in him to increase the feud:
he offered to mount one hundred of the Arabs, and send one of his
chiefs, under Boo-Khaloom’s orders, to Begharmi, with fifteen
hundred or two thousand horsemen; and great part of the produce of
this expedition was to be sent as a present to the bashaw. Nothing
could be more distressing than Boo-Khaloom’s situation; he knew
the disposition of his master too well not to feel what his fate would
be, if he refused such an opportunity of taking him at least two
thousand slaves,—his own inclinations led him to proceed to
Soudan; but he was still anxious to avoid becoming the scourge of
one people, to gratify the revenge of another. The Arabs were also
divided. The people of Begharmi had, on the last expedition, nearly
foiled their invaders by abandoning their towns, driving off their
flocks and cattle, and obliging the sheikh’s people to subsist entirely,
for twenty-five days, on a little prepared paste made of flour and
curd, which they always take with them to the field. This the mounted
Arabs dreaded a repetition of, while the more adventurous infantry,
who had nothing to trade with but their gun, and consequently
nothing to lose but their lives, exclaimed loudly for the ghrazzie.
March 2.—Boo-Khaloom went this day to Birnie, for the purpose
of paying his respects to the sultan, who resides there, and we
accompanied him. Angornou, a very large and populous town, where
the sheikh resided previous to his building Kouka, is about sixteen
miles from that place, and two miles from Birnie. Boo-Khaloom took
with him presents to the amount of about one hundred and twenty
dollars, but by some strange mistake we went empty-handed.
On our arrival at Birnie, which is a walled town, with huts of the
same description as those in Kouka, and probably contains ten
thousand inhabitants, we were first conducted to the gate of the