Chapter Five
by RJ

"And why would you say something like that Dr. Jamison?"  Barnabas asked, his demeanor outwardly calm, interested but not panicked.

Patrick smiled wryly.  "Oh my Mother has stories about this apartment and I've always felt the presence of one or more ghosts here.  Too much fun back in the Roaring Twenties or the spirit of the holiday season, I suppose."  He cocked his hear toward the melody.

"Patrick, ghosts of Christmas past?"  Julia laughed, trying to play off her concern.

"Surely you hear the music?"  Patrick watched her, he knew she did and so did her guest.  Why ever were they pretending they didn't?  Especially Julia with him? His inquisitive stare forced her to slowly nod.  "And do you recognize it?"  She shook her head, no.  The trio stood listening, Patrick began to gently sing along.  "Oh my man I love him so, he'll never know, oh my life is just despair but I don't care, when he takes me in his arms, the world is right, all right-Know it now?"

"Fanny Brice?"  Julia's voice raised in disbelief. 

"Who?"  Barnabas's brow furrowed in confusion.

"A vaudeville singer, comedienne from the Ziegfield Follies, this was her signature song.  It's been recently resurrected with the play and movie about her, with that Barbra Streisand prima dona.  My Mother said Valerie used to play it over and over again-" Patrick stopped talking when Julia's eyes opened wide

"Valerie?"  Barnabas asked. 

"When my Mother lived across the hall, she was very chummy with two women who lived in this very apartment, a Valerie Blair and Rosa Chilblain."  Patrick did not miss the subtle knowing glance Julia exchanged with the debonair guest.

"You mother lived here?"  Barnabas questioned, hoping to sidetrack what was happening underneath the social pleasantries. It was obvious Patrick was too observant of Julia.

"Yes, I've often been envious of Julia living in this grand building.  I wished my Mother hadn't given up the apartment. But then again she fell inlove with an Englishman and decided to hop the pond." 

Julia put her hand on the man's arm, still trying to keep the situation light. "Patrick, tell us about Rosa and Valerie, what do you know of them?  Why do you think they'd still be hanging around here?"

Patrick took his mug and led the way from the kitchen to the large sitting room overlooking Central Park.  "I'm not sure why any spirits remain, unfinished business would be a guess but only a guess.  But Mother did say that Valerie was a beautiful blonde temptress with a heart of ice. Rosa,  a raven haired beauty with a peculiar streak of gray, a widow's peak even though she was quite young. I gather they threw rather grand parties."

Julia communicated silently to Barnabas that pressing further was unwise.  He understood, no need to raise too many questions or involve an innocent party by their own probing.   She then looked down at her housecoat and slippers.  "I think I'll get ready for the day, you two can amuse yourselves with ghost stories."  Julia left the room hoping Patrick wouldn't guess of their intense interest in a certain 'Valerie Blair'.  The idea that Angelique was still around to haunt not only Barnabas' heart but her actual apartment was very frustrating.  How far away would she have to move this time to rid herself of the unnamable longing she saw in Barnabas' eyes and Angelique's talons?

Patrick turned from the vision of snow falling onto the greenery beyond.  "So, I do believe Julia has mentioned you in passing-" Barnabas only nodded.  The man before him was quite comfortable in this apartment.  "You're from Maine?"

"Yes, Collinsport.  Julia lived with my relatives for a time."

"Yes, she's spoken of Maine and the work she did there, very interesting but then again, she's a fascinating woman."

Deliberately pausing before responding, Barnabas noted the man's poise, patience.  "I could not disagree.  Julia is quite brilliant." 

Patrick placed his coffee on a side table.  "If you'll excuse me I have to tell her something before I forget, it's rather urgent."  The man swiftly exited the room, his patience vanished. Barnabas drained the remaining coffee from his cup while staring out at the falling white fluff. After ten minutes and Patrick's complete disappearance, he returned the coffee cup to the kitchen sink and then went down the hallway toward the small room Julia also used as a den/guest room. He tried not to think too much about Patrick and what place he now had in Julia's life.  He tried to pretend he'd come here just to deal with business but that was a secondary excuse that finally got him down here.  He missed her terribly.  He never knew just how much she'd meant to him until she was gone.  And now?  Had she replaced him?  How could he have been so foolish as to let it slip out that his family owned this building? When she'd left, Julia had not written him for several months.  So bruised was her ego and heart.  He knew he was responsible for her hurt feelings just as he'd borne some responsibility for Angelique's.  This, at last, he finally knew.  He'd made it up to Angelique just as she lay dying, could he repair his relationship with Julia?  Would she be willing to entertain the notion now that they could be more or would she be skittish?  He'd engineered the circuitous route by which she'd gained apartment two years ago wanting to know she was someplace safe, someplace he could observe from afar.  With this apartment he'd gained the services of the doorman for regular updates. He knew even when Julia had colds or worked too much.  He hadn't been informed she had a close male friend.  Sighing, Barnabas sat on the pulled out sofabed.  What had he been thinking, remotely spying all these years and now just showing up with the flimsiest of excuses?  But the presence of the spirits and the names, Valerie Blair and Rosa Chilblain, these were certainly not coincidences.  What was Angelique up to this time? And who was Rosa, was she a part of this haunting?  Obviously they were the spirits Ben had warned him about in the dream?

"So if you spend the day with him, can I see you tonight?"  Barnabas tried to not overhear Patrick's words emanating from Julia's bedroom.

"Can we play it by ear?"  Julia's voice was coy.

"I'm not sure I like the sound of that, this is the love of your life your talking about spending the day with.  I'm afraid he might've realized what a dolt he's been and is here to whisk you away-"

At this Julia laughed, she tried to kept it light but a certain poignancy was audible.  "Don't be absurd, Patrick you're so over-protective like my grandmother-"

"Hardly.  My ideas aren't very maternal or grand mere-ish."  Barnabas heard someone tinkering with glass bottles and bureau drawers. Had he stayed in there while she changed?  "Now do tell, I saw the eye action between the two of you-why so interested in the ghosts of two flappers who lived here fifty years ago?"

"You know-"  Julia stopped suddenly. The sound of a million mirrors shattering filled the room. Julia cried out. "Patrick! What is it?"

Part Six