Notes from the Past

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Same as always.

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Part 2, Chapter 3

It was about eleven the next morning when they arrived in Clarksville. After quickly checking into the inn and dropping off their bags, they piled back into the jeep for the ride to Catamount Construction. Sydney pulled up in front of one of Clarksville's few modern buildings, ignoring Nigel and Claudia's bickering.

"So, remember our story," she said, pushing the button on her seatbelt.

"We're researching the man who wrote that gross poem," Claudia piped up.

"We were fascinated by the imagery," Karen added.

"And we are?"

"Some sort of poetry club," Nigel answered, fighting with his own seatbelt.

"Okay, I guess we're ready."

Sydney was sure they made an odd group, standing there on the sidewalk—a tall, thin girl with a wide grin who looked as if she were about to dance in excitement; a small, bespectacled, studious looking man; a shapely blond who looked only half dressed despite the cold; and a black clad, slightly older woman with a satchel. Hopefully, this wouldn't make the Harringtons suspicious.

In the lobby, there was a plastic message board encased in glass that displayed the different offices in the building. Sydney put her fingers to the glass and ran through the list quickly. She could feel the others behind her twitching impatiently.

"It looks like they have the whole third floor."

She reached into her satchel and withdrew pens and notepads for each of them so that they would look their parts. Then, the four of them crowded into the tiny elevator near the doors and silently rode to the third floor.

The elevator opened to reveal a curly haired, red headed secretary. She looked to be about sixteen, though she was probably closer to twenty, and was pale and freckled. From the desk, two hallways headed in opposite directions, and they were filled with doorways.

At the opening of the doors, the secretary, Amanda Harrington by the nameplate on her desk, looked up. Sydney noticed absently that her eyelashes were so pale that they were almost invisible.

"Yes?" she asked crisply.

Sydney stepped forward, smiling her sweetest smile. "Hello. My name is Sydney, and these are my friends, Nigel, Claudia, and Karen. We were hoping to speak to someone."

"You're planning a renovation? Or are you building from scratch?"

"Oh, it's nothing like that," Claudia said, waving her hand.

"We're interested in the family history," Sydney admitted.

The girl looked puzzled. "Our family history?"

"Yes. We're fans of a poem called "Hunger". Do you know it? It was written by Ezekiel Harrington about a hundred years ago."

"Uh..." she said, "One moment..." She picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Dad? There's a group of people here who want to talk to you about Ezekiel Harrington...They say their names are Sydney, Nigel, Claudia, and Karen...No last names...Are you sure?" Her puzzled look deepened. "All right. You're the boss."

Sydney kept the frozen smile on her face as the secretary hung up the phone. "Will he see us?"

"Yeah. Go on in. He's the third door on the left, down that hallway."

"Thank you very much, Amanda," Karen said, her smile a lot more genuine than Sydney's.

At the door the secretary had indicated, Sydney knocked, fixing her fake smile more firmly on her face. She glanced at Nigel, who made a face and her and whispered, "You look like a jack-o-lantern."

"Shut up," she hissed, "and smile."

Claudia giggled behind her.

"Come in," came a voice from the other side of the door, cutting off any reply Nigel might have made.

Sydney threw all of her friends a 'behave yourselves' look before turning the knob. Behind the door, she found a tall man in his fifties rising to meet them. She studied his face, which was long and thin, though not unattractive. His eyes were the same green as his daughter's, but his hair was more blond than red.

He smiled, crinkly lines appearing at the side of his eyes. "Hello, come in. My name is Alfred Harrington. Amanda said you have some questions."

"Yes, Mr. Harrington, about one of your ancestors and his poem called "Hunger"."

"Oh, yes, Ezekiel Harrington, the poet."

"We're part of a poetry club from Boston," Nigel told him, "and we find the imagery of "Hunger" amazing—all that ripping and blood and so on."

"Yes, all of my great grandfather's poems were like that."

"So, he was your great grandfather?" Karen asked with so much enthusiasm that even Sydney almost believed it was real.

"Unfortunately." He then indicated a group of five chairs. "Please, sit. What would you like to know about Ezekiel?"

"Oh, anything you can tell us," Sydney said as they took the offered seats. "We'd just like to have some interesting information to bring to our group."

"Interesting, huh? Well, Ezekiel was nothing if not interesting. They said he had awful, terrible nightmares of being eaten alive by some sort of beast."

Sydney glanced at Nigel, who was sitting beside her, before asking, "What kind of beast?"

"I have no idea. It certainly makes his poetry make more sense at any rate. Which poem was it you said you found so enthralling?"

"'Hunger'," Karen reminded him.

"And where did you find it?"

"On the Internet while searching out early twentieth century poets."

"His poetry wasn't widely published. It's surprising you found any at all."

"Too gory?" Nigel asked.

"I think it had more to do with my great grandfather himself. You can't continue to make conversation about death without eventually being considered mad."

"Speaking of mad," Nigel continued, "while researching your family, we came across the story of a Nicholas Parker. Do you know him?"

Harrington seemed to go into thought for a moment. "I believe I do know the name. If I remember right, he used to work for my father about...maybe twenty-five years ago. He did odd jobs and the like. He wasn't very reliable, and I seem to recall he was a bit of a gambler. My nephew took a liking to him and followed him around a lot. Didn't his wife leave him and drive him insane? Tragic, really."

Sydney clenched her teeth, letting Nigel answer for her once again. "We heard that his wife disappeared...that she may even have been..."

"Murdered!" Claudia piped up loudly.

Harrington shrugged. "That may be so. It was so long ago, I can't be sure."

"Well," Sydney said, still trying to hold on to her forced smile. "They say he rambles on and on about a coin or medallion of some sort. Since his last lucid memories are from when he worked for you, we were wondering if the two of them were connected."

"Coin? What kind of coin?"

"Not money," Karen said brightly. "More of a medallion, really. It has a cougar on it...well, from what the crazy guy says."

Harrington shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know anything about a coin."

He was obviously lying. Sydney wondered if the others caught it.

"That's too bad," she said. "It was an interesting mystery. What does a coin with a cougar on it have to do with a poem written so long ago? What can you tell us about Ezekiel?"

They spent the next fifteen minutes listing to Alfred talk about a depraved man who suffered from delusions and paranoia, one who was fascinated by death and the spilling of blood. Alfred seemed to relish telling these things, but even so, Sydney could tell he was leaving something out.

Karen took notes diligently while Nigel and Claudia asked questions. Sydney listened very carefully to the answers. Harrington gave almost no clues as to why the coin was so important or why her aunt had disappeared because of it.

Sydney's eyes narrowed as she watched Harrington. He would have been in his twenties back then. Had he personally had something to do with Melody's disappearance? Had he killed her himself? Of course, all they had to go on in believing that the disappearance was somehow connected to the coin and the Harringtons were the feverish ramblings of a lunatic. But, if Harrington didn't have anything to hide, why had he lied to them about the coin, and why was he still lying about his great grandfather?

Harrington was just finishing up a particularly gruesome story when he glanced at his watch.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but I have another appointment in ten minutes. I hope you have enough to take back to your club."

"More than enough," Karen gushed.

"Good. Good." Harrington looked at the petite secretary with interest, and a chill went down Sydney's spine at the glint of hunger she saw in his eyes.

"We must go, anyway," Sydney replied, grabbing Karen by the arm and steering her towards the door. "Thank you for your time."

"If you have any other questions, be sure to come see me again."

"Oh, we will," Nigel assured him.

"Good-bye," Sydney threw over her shoulder, pushing Karen ahead of her. She heard Nigel and Claudia also saying good-bye behind her.

The four of them were silent until they reached the elevator, only sparing the secretary, Amanda, the barest of waves.

As soon as the doors closed, Karen demanded, "What was that all about?"

"What was what about?" Sydney asked innocently.

Instead of babbling at her feigned misunderstanding as Nigel would have done, Karen just crossed her arms and gave her a look.

"I just don't like that guy, all right?"

"I didn't like him much myself," Nigel agreed. "Did you see his creepy eyes?"

Claudia shivered. "Like they could look right through you."

It wasn't only Harrington's eyes that made Sydney's spider sense tingle. There was something about the man, despite his being pleasant enough, that told her he was dangerous.

"Do you think we learned anything useful?" Nigel asked. "Or was this a waste of time?"

"I'm not sure if we actually learned anything we can use, but I don't think it was a waste of time. If we could only find out what he didn't say, I'm sure we'd have all the answers. I think he knows what happened to my aunt."

"You do?"

"Yes. He was obviously lying when he spoke of Melody's disappearance—and when he denied knowledge of the coin."

"Where do we go from here?" Claudia asked.

"Nigel?"

"Look in the local archives to see if we can find any references to either the coin or the poem?"

"Right. And newspapers from the time my aunt disappeared. There may be mention of something we can use."

"But first lunch?" Nigel asked hopefully.

Sydney rolled her eyes. "Yes, we'll eat first. I saw a little diner just down the road a bit. We should be able to walk from here."

Claudia curled her nose. "The sidewalks are slushy."

"Would you rather cut across the playground?" This was about knee deep in snow it had gathered in the blizzard.

"The sidewalk's fine."

Nigel smirked at her, so she stuck her tongue out at him. Karen looked at Sydney helplessly.

"Oh, this is nothing. They get worse. They've been on their best behaviour because of Christmas."

"You love us, Syd, and you know it," Claudia announced, throwing one expensively clad arm around Sydney's shoulders.

Sydney fought another eyeroll and surprisingly succeeded. The thing was, she did love them. The three of them were more precious to her than if they had actually been born family. Claudia and Karen could have been her sisters, and her feelings for Nigel were extremely complicated. A sudden impulse made Sydney reach up and pinch Claudia's nose as if she were a child.

"I love you more when you behave."

Claudia's eyes widened momentarily, and then she laughed and gave Sydney a gentle push. "Syd!"

The four of them made their way down the sidewalk towards a sign that proudly said, "Flora's Diner". There weren't very many people out, despite the time of day and the appearance of the sun.

One man that passed them turned and stared briefly. He was about Sydney's age, or a little older, with sandy hair and a handsome face. His eyes were a startling green. She was drawn to them and, even though she told herself it was annoyance at being stared at, a part of her denied this was the reason. She met those eyes, and the man blushed and turned away to continue on. She stopped and watched him for a moment.

Nigel's hand on her arm made her start. "Syd?"

"That man was staring at us."

Nigel smirked for the second time in five minutes. "Of course he was. How often does a man get to see three women like you all at once? You probably made his day."

"Was that a compliment?" Claudia asked, feigning surprise.

Karen did the same, answering, "I think it was."

"Must be the hunger," Nigel replied.

"Must be," Sydney agreed.

The diner had only a few people in it, despite the fact that it was lunch time. There was a table full of teenagers, laughing and showing off, another table with a harried young couple with three children, and a woman sitting alone and drinking coffee.

There was one waitress, probably in her late forties, wearing a cheesy pink uniform and a pristine white apron. Her hair was dark and piled up on top of her head.

She came over quickly, bringing their menus. Her eyes scanned them over quickly.

"You're not from around here, are you?" She opened with.

"How do you know?" Karen asked curiously.

"I've been working in this diner for thirty years, and pretty much everyone in town eats here sooner or later. You get to know the faces." She then studied Sydney for a few extra seconds. "You do look familiar, though. Have you been in here before?"

"No, I haven't...I used to have relatives in town, though."

"Really? Names?"

"Melody and Nic Parker."

Surprise went over her face. "Oh, yes! I did know them. Melody was a friend of mine. We weren't that close, but we used to belong to the same fitness club. Once in awhile, we went to the movies or shopping. When she disappeared...The whole town searched for her, but she was never found...but then, you knew that..." She trailed off, looking as if she thought she might have gone too far.

"You knew her? Did she seem agitated before her disappearance?"

"Is that what you're in town for? To find out what happened to her?"

Sydney nodded. "Can you tell me anything?"

The waitress glanced at the counter, where a big man was glaring at her. "Not now. George hates me talking to the customers. I don't know much, but if you want to talk about Melody, I'm off tomorrow. Come by my place; I'll write the address for you when I bring the bill."

"Thanks."

As she walked away, Karen whispered, "Well, that was quite a coincidence."

"I'm wondering if it's too much of a coincidence."

"I guess we'll find out tomorrow," Nigel said.

They sat and ate their meal, and the waitress brought them her address with the bill as she had promised. Sydney thanked her, and the four of them left to find the library, which turned out to be closed on Mondays.

"I guess that's another thing that has to wait until tomorrow," Sydney sighed.

"Don't worry, Syd," Claudia said perkily, "I'm sure there's something to do in Clarksville—like shopping!"

"Does this look like a hot shopping spot to you?" Sydney asked.

"Not really, but you never know."

"I do not want to go shopping," Nigel protested firmly.

"How about a movie?" Karen suggested.

"Something about blood sucking ghouls?" Claudia said hopefully.

"Claudia," Nigel answered in exasperation, "you've got to stop watching horror movies. They give you nightmares." All three women looked at him in surprise, so he just shrugged and continued, "If you had to listen to her ranting about them as many times as I have..."

The four of them wandered off to find a matinée, still lightly bickering. Afterwards, they went back to the hotel and gathered in Sydney's room to talk about their current hunt. They went over their clues, from the letter, to the poem, to the coin, to Nic, to the Harringtons. Something was missing in all of it, and somehow the cougar was supposed to give them some much needed answers.

Sydney held it in her hand and studied it as she had so many times since its discovery. It was the key, but the key to what, she had no idea. She didn't even know where to find the lock. She just hoped Clarksville wouldn't prove to be a dead end.

"I'd still like to find out what Alfred Harrington knows that he's not telling us. Maybe I should pay him another visit."

Nigel reached out and gently took the coin from her. "We should find out what we can from the library and the waitress first, don't you think?"

"Yeah. You're right, Nigel."

"But we can't find out anything from them until tomorrow," Claudia said. "I'm bored."

"You could have gone back to New York," Nigel reminded her.

"And miss out on the fun? No way!"

Sydney lay back on the bed, her hands linked behind her head. Karen was sitting in the room's only chair, an old, faded, and well padded thing. Nigel was sitting on the floor, his back resting against Sydney's mattress. Claudia was perched on Karen's chair arm, her long legs swinging back and forth, barely missing Nigel.

"So, what do you want to do?" Karen asked her.

"I don't know. Syd, what do you and Nigel do on hunts in your down time?"

Sydney turned her head to look at her, but it was Nigel who answered, "Down time? What down time?"

"There must be some time when you're not hunting."

"Then, we rest."

"Or, in Nigel's case," Sydney teased. "We drink."

"What?" Claudia and Karen exclaimed together.

"Oh, the stories I could tell if I were not an honourable woman," she continued. "I can't tell you how many times I had to undress him and put him to bed."

"Syd!" Nigel sounded appalled. "Don't listen to her. I may have been drunk ten times in the last four years. That's not a lot."

"It's because he can't hold his liquor," Karen said seriously.

"Don't you start. What is this? The pick on Nigel holiday?" He actually pouted as he said this.

Sydney rolled over on her side, reaching over to ruffle his hair, "But it's so much fun."

"It's not like I couldn't tell some stories on you of my own." At those words, Sydney's ruffle turned into a gentle pull.

"Oh," Claudia looked way more interested in Sydney's indiscretions than Nigel's.

"Nigel," Sydney said sharply.

"What's good for the goose," he replied smugly.

"Geese don't sign your pay cheque."

Claudia laughed. "She's got you there."

"Yes. I think we should talk about something else before I fall any further behind. Have you still got those cards in your satchel, Syd?"

"Sure. Why? Do you want to play?"

"It's an idea."

"Can we play..." This again was Claudia, but Nigel cut her off.

"No."

"But..."

"No."

"It'll be..."

"No."

"You're no fu..."

"No."

"All right. Fine. What do you want to play?"

"How about rummy?"

"Rummy, is that a drinking game?"

"Certainly not!"

Sydney held up her hand, stalling Claudia's next question. "We'll show you how to play."