I quickly closed the book, and glancing at my watch decided to head for the staff common room. Rebekah would be breaking for lunch soon. I promised myself I’d erase the eye from the picture as soon as I got home.
The staff common room was towards the front of the building in what had once been a rather grand living space. There was an open fireplace, bookshelves, comfortable chairs, and a low coffee table with newspapers and magazines strewn over it. I picked one up, the Nursing Times, not exactly my favorite choice of reading material.
Throwing it down, a manila folder lying on the edge of the table caught my attention. It looked like a file of some kind. It was open and the corner of a document was peeping out. Curiosity and cats aside I couldn’t resist taking a quick look.
I slipped the document further out and saw that there was a photograph attached to it. The picture was of a man in his forties. He looked vaguely familiar. I studied it more closely. Could it be the man in the wheelchair? The same man who had grabbed my arm in the garden? It certainly looked like him, though it must have been taken some time ago. In the picture he was nowhere near as thin as he was now, and looked quite a bit younger.
Was there a name to go with the picture? I scanned down the document which seemed to be a patient record sheet until I saw it. Doctor Daniel Masterson. Doctor Masterson? The same surname as Jem and Circe, it was a pretty big coincidence; if it was a coincidence.
“Someone knows you are here?”
“Of course.”
He nodded slowly, his solid bulk was between me and the door. Fortunately at that moment it opened and Rebekah came in. Lechkov shifted slightly to one side to let he pass, and then stood watching me like a sumo wrestler preparing for a bout.
“Ready to go TT?” said Rebekah ignoring Lechkov completely.
After lunch I made my excuses and skedaddled back to Rose Cottage. I couldn’t bring myself to look at the drawing I’d done, it was too creepy. I just threw the sketchpad down on the couch, and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
A slight creaking noise from the ceiling made me look up. It was followed by a faint scraping. Was there someone upstairs? A thief ? Not that there was anything in the house worth stealing.
I debated calling the police. Though what if it turned out to be a pigeon or something equally stupid and I hadn’t taken a look first? I’d never live it down. So dialing 999 into my cellphone, and letting my finger hover over the green button ready to press at a moment’s notice I picked up the poker from the fire grate and crept out into the hallway.
“Hello,” I called out, a tad nervously it has to be said. “Is there anybody there?”
I drew back the poker ready to strike, and only just managed to stop myself from braining Shanty with it. She blinked at me through her purple lenses, a handful of my favorite books of myths and legends tucked under one arm. She was holding up the necklace with the amulet on it I’d left by the sink months ago and waving it at me.
“This is much better protection than a poker. Now put it on for goodness sake!”