Ghost Memory Read Online Free Page A

still hadn’t seen any renovation in a
very long time. Wallpaper with designs from another century covered
the walls. Still, it was a house with a lot of potential, and I
loved it.
    “We hadn’t gotten this far, when we
decided we needed to conserve our money. We took care of updating
the things that were necessary, but not the decoration.” Mr. Quinn
gave a small sigh of regret.
    “It’s a wonderful old house, Mr.
Quinn. I think it’s awesome.” I said with a smile.
    The will turned up in the attic in
the bottom of a box, buried beneath other boxes. The letter was
taped underneath an old bureau on the second floor.
    Mr. Quinn gave up tagging along
after Thulu presented him with the letter. He simply waved us on
and made his way slowly downstairs. I asked him if he needed my
help, but he smiled sadly and shook his head. I kept an eye on him
anyway, until he was back in the parlor.
    Even the basement was neat, with a
workshop area that showed no signs of what had been made there, but
held some tools on a pegboard attached to the wall.
    Once Thulu was sure he had
recovered everything in the house, we made our way back downstairs
to Mr. Quinn. Thulu gave him the last of the envelopes.
    “He kept track of everything he set
aside,” said Mr. Quinn. “Even at the end, he was recording his
‘little deposits.’ That’s what he called them.” He looked up at us.
“Could you please help me count it?”
    He handed us several sheets of
paper, spreadsheets carefully documenting all of Mr. Swanson’s
deposits over the years. I was impressed that he had kept that up
in spite of his Alzheimer’s. Especially since the last entry was
made the month before. According to the figures, there should have
been a little over a hundred thousand dollars.
    We counted each envelope separately
and noted the amount on the outside. I pulled out my phone and
accessed the calculator, adding up the totals of each envelope. We
went through every envelope twice more, double checking the
numbers. Every time we came out to eighty-four thousand dollars and
change.
    “That means there’s about sixteen
thousand dollars missing,” Thulu said after the third time resulted
in the same numbers.
    “Still, this is more than enough
for me to live on the rest of my life,” said Mr. Quinn.
    Thulu sat back, his fingers
steepled as he thought. He closed his eyes to concentrate as he did
when a job required a little more effort than what he’d expended so
far. I felt the familiar energy gather around him. It went out in
waves and pulses, with him at the center. No one else ever seemed
to notice it, except my grandmother, who was an empath, but it was
obvious to me.
    Thulu had tried to explain what it
felt like when he was in finder mode, but I think it was one of
those “you had to be there” things. Certainly, I never really
understood what he meant.
    I looked at Mr. Quinn and smiled
encouragingly while we waited. He had refreshed the tea, and I
sipped at a lovely spicy blend and nibbled on homemade cinnamon
cookies. We stayed silent, so as not to disturb Thulu, who opened
his eyes after about five minutes.
    His face bore his familiar grin, as
he dimpled at the two of us.
    “Okay, the bad news is that it’s
scattered all over the place. Part of it is in several banks. The
good news is that there were several stops when it was still
together before that.” He stared at me thoughtfully for a moment.
“Let’s go home, Fi, so I can do some more research and check these
locations.”
    “Before we do, Mr. Quinn, would you
like us to go with you to the bank? I really don’t think you should
keep that money here.” I said to him gently.
    The old man was staring at the easy
chair where Peter Swanson had once more settled. “But it’s been
here all this time with no problem,” he protested.
    “That was before someone realized
there was money in this house. Who knows when they might decide to
come back and look for more? Do you really want to take