The Haunted Bed & Breakfast

     We both froze, staring and astounded.

      Neither of us whispered. The crow seemed exactly like a messenger, as it began to strut in a tight circle as if marking off the centre for later examination, offering the earth an occasional peck.

      Then, as quickly as it had come, it flew up, sudden and graceful, like a black cloud lifting, and disappeared.

      "Wow," breathed Malinda. "What was that all about?"

      In answer, I walked to where the crow had been, and dropped to my knees on the turf. I leaned forward, feeling with my fingers at the roots of the grass, to see if the ground had been disturbed.

      And I had my reward. My fingertips told me a groove led around the four sides of what must have been a single shovel-full of turf, perfectly square, like the rows of cut turf on newly laid lawns where people had build a new house and didn't want to rely on seeds.

      I pushed my fingers into the narrow space around this square shape until I found that I coud reach under both sides and grasp the turf to lift it. This can't have been here long, I thought, as it came up whole in my hands, and I lifted it away from the earth.

      "What in the world is that?" Malinda exclaimed, and we both looked to see.

      A small, colourfully decorated metal box, the same shape and size as the uplifted turf, peeked back at us, prim and demure. The sort of box you get shortbread and biscuits in, at Christmas time, I thought.

      Lifting it from what must have been a very recent burial there, I set it beside me in the grass, and sat back on my heels, ready to open it.

      "Do you think it's all right to be doing this?" Malinda asked.

      I opened that tin box, of course, and my heart jumped inside me at what I saw: a careful pile of books, three of them. As Malinda watched, I lifted those books out one at a time, and placed them in a row.

      "Mercy," I whispered, in a perfect echo of what my mother would have said.

      The first book was The Pale Horse; the second was By the Prickling of my Thumbs; the third was Sleeping Murder.

      At first I thought I would throw up. "I'll put these back," I whispered, as if I might be overheard. Out loud, I continued, "Did the person - the woman we saw last night - do this?"

      "For heaven's sake," Malinda gasped. "Let's get out of here!"