You may or may not know, depending on how long you have been reading about the Chicken, that I have a ghost in my house. It is a relatively benign ghost, mostly showing itself by entering the door on the side of the house, shaking some keys around, and convincing anyone in the house that someone has just entered. Upon inspection, sometimes, no one has. Everyone in the Chicken family has experienced it at one time or another.
Well. This past summer when we went on vacation, we had a wonderful time. When we got back home, we found another curious "episode" had occurred. I haven't written about it because we needed time to research and gather details, but you are reading it now. Live. From New York.
Just kidding. Or maybe you are reading it in NY.
Anyway, after vacationing with my family in Maine, we arrived home in the early evening. BigB set about unloading the car while I went inside to check out the damage and rearrange the evidence, if necessary, before BigB came in the house and blew a gasket (in Jetsons talk). This would be because R had been in charge of the house during our absence. R is 21. I'm sure I do not have to explain any further.
Everything looked just as we left it, down to the one leftover dirty glass in the sink, and the dust on the coffee table. There was no evidence that R had invited all her crazy friends for a midsummer night dream party anywhere. Chicken was pleased. She's finally growing up, is what Chicken thought.
Then Chicken went upstairs. I went upstairs to unload a suitcase in our bedroom. Our bedroom has an eye and hook lock on the inside of the door, used to keep littleb in our room during his younger days when he slept with us most nights and we were afraid he would wake up, wander out to the landing, and fall to his death down the stairs. Yes, we are THAT dramatic. Yes, littleb is totally capable. littleb is one of those kids you read about in the newspaper who take their parents' car out for a drive on Sunday morning because they figure Dad and Mom do it, how hard can it be? And if you were the one to question him after the inevitable crash, he would have politely explained that he was getting coffee for Daddy.
You've probably already guessed, but the lock. was. engaged. Since no one could possibly engage the lock from outside of the room (I had to slide in a very thin metal ruler to pop the hook), someone either had to be inside the room (dead? Gulp). Or someone had to have locked the door and gone out through the window.
(Cue Silence of the Lambs music)
Well, friends, I'm relieved to report that no one was inside the room, either alive or dead. The kicker is that the windows were locked. There is no way to lock the window from outside the room. Also, the bedroom is on the second floor on the corner of a house that faces two well-traveled streets, so someone would have needed a 20 foot ladder and some chutzpah to pull that off.
But. Because we are cynics-well, mostly BigB is a cynic, I was already flying the ghost flag-we needed to check with all possible witnesses.
D the handyman: Had a ladder. Could have thought he was protecting our bedroom from nefarious thieves and post-teenage lovers. Also highly intelligent in a not-so-handyman way, and totally capable of screwing with us. Nope, he didn't see nuthin'.
J the nephew: Had access to the house due to being the handyman's assistant and also unofficial house watchdog. Also playful, though. Could have played trick? Somehow? "What r u talkin' about? That's crazy, man." Not so highly intelligent.
R, the main suspect, gregarious, hipster party girl. Had party in the house? Invited tricksters? Is trickster? Denies everything. I believe her, World, because R is the world's worst housekeeper. If she were trying to cover up a party, she would either miss something very telling, like a six foot pile of wine cooler bottles, or she would clean too well including the lone glass in the sink, and the dust on the coffee table, which would have immediately outed her, because, again, R is not known for her mad domestic skillz. Like the Egyptians, I leave sneaky little traps behind to trip up my kids. My traps are not attached to crushing boulders, however. That would be going too far.
So there you have it. Door locked from the inside, windows locked from the inside. Who did it?
Of course, I am disqualifying James Bond level thieves, with rappleing and robotic capabilities. Even I am not that dramatic. Give me a hope diamond type treasure and I might be, but not even my change disappeared.
I think our ghost was displaying his anxiety at our absence. Or saying good riddance. Either/Or. We are kind of loud.
I love a good ghost story, so if you have one please share. Don't make me crawl through your window.
Chicken out
