The Phantom Photograph

By Sandra Whinnem

“I think I found it,” Ryan said. He used a surgical instrument to pull a small, plastic wrapped package from Grace’s abdomen. He handed it to Lana.
Ryan stitched the incision, while Lana rinsed the strange little package in the sink.
“They look like c-coins,” she said. “B-But I don’t recognize the c-currency.”
Lana carefully opened the package to reveal three gold disks. They had strange markings and appeared to be very old.
Once the incision was closed, Ryan carefully laid the unconscious dog on the blanket to recover. Zena padded over and sniffed the wound on Grace’s belly while Ryan and Lana looked at the coins.
“I don’t recognize them either,” Ryan said. “Usually if a dog swallows a coin, it’s a common penny or quarter... these coins are very unusual, and were packaged as though they were put there on purpose. Smugglers sometimes use animals to transport contraband.”
Zena gave a sudden, warning growl. Ryan felt a blinding pain right before the world went black and he crumpled to the floor.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandra Whinnem
• Release date: Jul 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310570599

Sandra Whinnem

Sandra Whinnem lives in Connecticut with her husband, teenage son and a variety of very spoiled pets. When she is not writing, Sandra enjoys reading, gardening and walking her dogs. Sandra works as a water fitness instructor, and each fall she enjoys leading haunted graveyard tours for the West Hartford Historical Society. She is a devoted foster volunteer for the CT Humane Society and has opened her home to over 120 homeless dogs and cats so far.

Book preview

The

Phantom

Photograph

The Haunted Seniors of Specter County: book 2

By Sandra Whinnem

Cover design by Rita Toews/ Art by KJPargeter

Copyright 2015 Sandra Whinnem

Published by Sandra Whinnem/Distributed by Smashwords

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In loving memory of Zena

Chapter 1

All was quiet in the Museum of Human History, which was closed for the evening.

Two museum guards stood watch over the Exhibit of Ancient Civilizations. In the center of the display, three gold coins sparkled in a glass case.

One of the guards yawned. I tell you, Stan, I’ll never get used to working the night shift, he complained to his partner.

Stan nodded, though he was not at all sleepy. He looked at his watch; it was after midnight.

Almost time, he thought.

I hear you, Howard; I’m tired too. I’m going to stretch my legs, Stan lied.

Howard nodded tiredly, and yawned again.

Stan strolled to the end of the room, where a video camera hung from the ceiling; focused on the glass display case.

Stan walked beneath the camera, out of its viewing range. He casually dropped his name badge near a large trash can before heading to a display of Egyptian artifacts. He passed a mummy wrapped in cloth, and models of pyramids and sphinxes.

When Howard looked away, Stan climbed inside a stone sarcophagus, crouched down, and put his fingers in his ears.

A moment later, the garbage can exploded with terrific force. Debris rained down around Stan; who was protected by the ancient stone coffin. The blast had completely destroyed the surveillance camera and blew a hole through the side of the building, revealing the night sky.

Alarm bells rang and water sprayed from the overhead fire sprinklers.

Stan emerged from the sarcophagus and picked his way over the wreckage to the glass case. He smashed it with his nightstick, and took the ancient gold coins.

Stan paused, and looked at Howard, lying unconscious among the rubble. The injured museum guard moaned as Stan walked past.

I hope he’s not too badly hurt, Stan thought.

He took a small object from his pocket. It was a molar he’d extracted from his own jaw.

I plan to be the only death here, he thought, as he tossed the tooth amongst the wreckage.

Chapter 2

Henry walked across his apartment building’s parking lot toward the senior center, where a bundle of newspapers waited on the sidewalk. After untying the bundle, he began carefully rolling the newspapers and placing them in his worn satchel. As he worked, an elderly woman passed by.

Hello, Henry, she said.

Hi, Mrs. Michaud, Henry replied, looking up from his papers. He noticed the little old lady held a large bag along with her cane and her purse, and was tottering unsteadily toward the senior center stairs.

Henry dropped his satchel. Wait, Mrs. Michaud! he called, hurrying to her before she reached the steps. Here, let me take that, he said, taking the bag and offering his arm.

Mrs. Michaud smiled gratefully and held tightly to the boy’s elbow as they climbed the stairs. Careful, Henry, she warned My glass punch bowl is in that bag. I’m loaning it to Sal and Phyllis for their wedding reception… I hear you’re going to be the ring bearer, is that right?

Yeah, Henry answered. I’ve never been in a wedding before, he added nervously.

Don’t worry, you’ll do fine, the old lady reassured him and patted his arm.

They entered the senior center, and as they walked through the building, Henry was greeted warmly by the elderly people they encountered. Wanda, who was recovering from a hip replacement, kissed Henry’s cheek and thanked him for feeding her cats while she was in the hospital. They then came upon Smitty, a bald man with a white moustache who enjoyed regaling Henry with tales of his misspent youth.

Henry! How have you been? Smitty began when he spotted the boy. Say, have I ever told you about the time I lost my clothes while sneaking a swim at the churchyard pond? The old man didn’t wait for Henry to answer before proceeding. Well, it wouldn’t have been so bad, except there was a funeral service taking place that day and…

Smitty! Mrs. Michaud interrupted. Can’t you see the boy is on a mission?

Henry nodded, pointed to the bag, and waved to Smitty as they walked on. Henry usually enjoyed listening to the old man’s stories, but his fragile cargo was getting heavy, and Smitty could go on for hours, if you let him.

They reached the ballroom where the reception was to take place. Henry put the bag on the table and said goodbye to Mrs. Michaud.

See you at the wedding! she called after him.

Henry’s stomach flip-flopped at the mention of the upcoming wedding. It was an important occasion, and he’d be performing his duty as ring-bearer in front of a large audience.

On his way out of the senior center, Henry cringed as he held the door for a group of old ladies entering the building. They reeked of perfume and wore lots of make-up and jewelry. One of the women stopped to thank Henry; she petted him on the head as though he were a dog, and gushed about his superior door-holding skills.

You’re welcome, Miss Agnes, Henry replied warily.

Agnes opened her purse and took out a bill. There’s a good boy; here you go, she said, offering Henry the money.

Henry blushed. No, thank you… it was nothing; really, he insisted, taking a step back.

Agnes reached out and shoved the bill into Henry’s satchel. There, she said, now you can buy yourself something nice… perhaps a haircut. Agnes looked disdainfully at Henry’s shaggy brown locks.

Er… um… thank you, Henry finally said, deciding that it would be easier to accept the money than to try to argue with the stubborn old lady.

Henry exited the Senior Center to the sound of Agnes pompously declaring the virtues of charity to her friends, Mildred and Priscilla; who eagerly agreed that it was their sovereign duty to help the poor unfortunates of the