Harry’s next stop was the police station where he was greeted warmly by his former colleagues. Bruce offered the use of his desk so he could review Miss Pinkerton’s file in comfort and Sharon brought him a mug of freshly-brewed coffee. “Almost like old times,” he said. “Thank you.” He looked at dates and times and noted what they had checked each time. Then he called Bruce over. “Can you get me a copy of this photo?” he asked, holding out the one in his hand.
“Just this one?” Bruce asked and Harry nodded. “Sure.” He located the photo on his computer and hit the print button. Then he looked at Harry. “Why that one? You have an idea, don’t you?”
“Just a vague impression so far.” Harry picked up the photo, said his goodbyes, and left.
Once back in his office, Harry sat down and stared at the photo for several long minutes. Then he realized one thing had not been in the reports, not a single one of them. He turned on his computer and did some research. And then he smiled, for he felt sure he now knew the origin of Miss Pinkerton’s ghost. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.
“Hello Mr. Hogan.”
She obviously had caller ID. Good. “Miss Pinkerton?”
“Yes, Mr. Hogan. You have more questions?”
“More of a request, actually. The next time you hear any of those sounds I want you to call me immediately.”
“Even if it’s late at night?”
“Yes. Doesn’t matter what time it is. I want to hear it for myself.”
There was a brief pause. “Mr. Hogan, do you doubt what I told you? Do you think I am hearing things?”
“No Ma’am, I don’t doubt you. I’m just a very hands-on kind of person.”
“I understand. Very well, but don’t be surprised if my call disturbs your rest.”
“Believe me, I’m used to that.” He ended the call and knew the next step would be the worst – the waiting.
* * * * * * * * * * * *