Read Online 7 Never Haunt a Historian by Edie Claire - Free Book Online

It barely touched the ground as she walked, and she seemed to have no trouble getting up or sitting down. Nor did she have trouble standing, as was made clear when she stopped in the hallway, raised her cane high in the air, and banged it violently against a door. “Har- vey!” she yelled. “Get your nose out of those books and come bore this woman to death with your fool stories!” Then she turned on a heel, walked through the door of the room across the hall that she shared with Adith, and closed it behind her.
    No sound came from behind Harvey’s door, and Leigh looked around with indecision. Adith must have taken whatever despised medication it was that made her sleepy, or she would have appeared by now. And the infant in question must belong to their mutual neighbors; Leigh knew that the baby-adoring Emma was only too happy to play grandma whenever Nora needed to get out for a while.
    “Mr. Perkins?” she called out tentatively through the still-closed door. “Don’t bother getting up if you don’t want to. I can always come—”
    The door swung open. Leigh was met by the pleasant smile of a thin, frail-looking man in his early eighties. Harvey was bald except for a wispy fringe of white hair that wrapped around the back of his head from ear to ear; his forehead was dominated by an impressively large liver spot. “Good day, Mrs. Harmon,” he said politely, with all the decorum that would be due if her arrival had been heralded by a British butler instead of a thwacking cane. “Is there something I can help you with?”
    Leigh smiled back. She had always liked Harvey, though she saw very little of him, as he spent the vast majority of his time alone in his room with his cat and his books. According to Adith, he had spent his life running the family hardware store and was never able to go to college. But he was a born intellectual, and both Lester and Archie frequently praised his acumen as a local historian.
    “I hope so,” she responded. “I’m curious about the man named Carr, who settled Frog Hill Farm. Scotty O’Malley was telling me stories about him that supposedly came from Archie Pratt, but I’m not sure how much of them to believe.”
    Harvey studied her for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. “Please,” he said finally, extending a hand in the direction of the sitting room. “Come and sit down.”
    Leigh complied. The room was empty except for Pauline’s canary, which hopped from one perch to another with an occasional chirp. The cheerful bird seemed an odd choice of pet for someone like Pauline; Leigh had always thought a hawk would be more appropriate. Or perhaps an iguana.
    “So, if you don’t mind my asking,” Harvey began as he eased into a chair opposite Leigh. “What brought about your interest in Theodore Carr?”
    Leigh considered. “Several things, actually. I’m worried about Archie, as we all are. And with nothing much else to go on, I can’t help wondering if something odd has been going on over at that farm. Not that I believe in ghosts, of course!” She amended quickly.
    Harvey’s thin lips drew into a smile. “Nor do I. But you are correct in supposing that Frog Hill has a somewhat… colorful past associated with it. A past about which Archie has always delighted in telling stories. Whether the history of his farm has anything to do with his disappearance…” Harvey’s voice trailed off a moment, lost in thought. Then he shook his head. “That, I couldn’t say.”
    Leigh leaned forward. “Could you tell me about Mr. Carr? Is it true that he might have been” —she nearly choked on the word— “murdered?”
    Harvey tented his bony fingers and took a slow, theatrical breath. Leigh couldn’t help but wonder how much he watched PBS television. For a man who never went to college, he bore a suspiciously strong resemblance to a host of Masterpiece Theater. “Theodore Carr fought in the Union Army during the Civil War. He was one of the 71st