Secrets of the Greek Revival

by Eva Pohler

  Secrets of the Greek Revival (Mystery House #1)

  Eva Pohler

  Published by Green Press

  Copyright 2015 Eva Pohler

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Eva Pohler is a USA Today bestselling author of over twenty novels for teens and adults.

  To learn more about Eva and her books and to find freebies and frequent giveaways, visit her website at http://www.evapohler.com.

  For free ebooks from Eva Pohler in both young adult fantasy and adult mystery/suspense please visit: https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/e4o8n7

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: First Impressions

  Chapter Two: The History File

  Chapter Three: The Séance

  Chapter Four: The Man with the Axe

  Chapter Five: Mrs. Forrester

  Chapter Six: The Attic

  Chapter Seven: The Psychic and the Locksmith

  Chapter Eight: The Doctor’s Ledger

  Chapter Nine: Mothers

  Chapter Ten: Murphy’s Law

  Chapter Eleven: Plan Hatching at the Coffee Shop

  Chapter Twelve: Marcia Gold

  Chapter Thirteen: The Hunt for Gold

  Chapter Fourteen: Halloween Night

  Chapter Fifteen: Mitchell Clark

  Chapter Sixteen: The State Hospital

  Chapter Seventeen: Bud’s Story Begins

  Chapter Eighteen: Revelations

  Chapter Nineteen: Who Are You?

  Chapter Twenty: Creature of Habit

  Chapter Twenty-One: Cynthia Piers

  Chapter Twenty-Two: The Hunt for Amy

  Chapter Twenty-Three: The Ghost of Marcia Gold

  Chapter Twenty-Four: Clues in the Attic

  Chapter Twenty-Five: Near Misses

  Chapter Twenty-Six: The Search Continues

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Last-Chance Meetings

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Cranberry Sauce

  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Christmas Day

  Chapter Thirty: The Gold House Museum

  Chapter One: First Impressions

  Ellen pulled up to the curb and took a deep breath. The September sun set behind the old house, framing it with a halo. Although the grass, the vines, and the one big tree out front were dead, there was something picturesque about the dilapidated building with its peeling yellow paint. Maybe it was Ellen’s vision of what it once was—or of what it could, one day, be.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked her two best friends. “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “Well, it looks a little more like a ruin than a fixer upper,” Sue said from behind the driver’s seat.

  “That’s why we can afford it.” Ellen’s stomach tightened as she turned to Tanya, who was sitting up front. She hadn’t expected this outright rejection from Sue. “What do you think? Too much work?”

  “I don’t know, maybe,” Tanya said in a lyrical voice that meant she was considering it. “I need to see the inside before I can get a good feel for it.”

  Although her best friends were opposites in every way—where Tanya was tall, thin, blonde, and blue-eyed, Sue was short, plump, brunette, and brown-eyed; where Tanya slanted toward liberalism, Sue slanted toward conservatism—if one wanted to do something, the other always, invariably, climbed on board.

  Okay, maybe not always, invariably, but often.

  Ellen, being in the middle of her two friends in size, color, and politics, was usually the odd woman out, but if she could get one of them on her side, there’d be a chance.

  “Then let’s go look inside.” She stepped onto the street in the still hot air and gazed at the house as she waited for her friends.

  Sue cracked open her car door but didn’t get up. “Aren’t we waiting on Paul?”

  “He had to show another house at the last minute.” Ellen dangled the key her husband had given her. “Come on. This will be fun.”

  Ellen hid her frustration with Sue as they made their way up the cracked sidewalk of the dilapidated two-story Greek revival, with its broken window and rotted siding. Of the three friends, Sue had been the one pushing the idea of doing something like this. For six months, she’d been the one saying they needed an adventure, now that they were all empty nesters. And if the adventure could make them extra money for more vacations (Sue was addicted to Disney cruises), all the better. So why was she frowning?

  “You’ve got to admit that this house is a lot better than the one you showed us last month,” Ellen said to Sue. “I mean, this one has major potential. Since it’s right here on the edge of the historic King William district, it would make the perfect bed and breakfast. Downtown San Antonio is just a few blocks away. The river is right over there. It backs up to a wooded green belt and is on a much bigger lot than most of the other homes in this area. This is the perfect spot.”

  “So now we’re running a bed and breakfast?” Sue’s tone was laced with sarcasm.

  “Selling a bed and breakfast,” Ellen explained. “If that’s what we want.”

  “I think it could be fun to run a bed and breakfast,” Tanya said as they carefully took the rickety steps up to the front porch between what were once amazing columns now strangled with dead vines.

  Ellen didn’t want a long-term commitment, but she wanted to keep Tanya’s support. “I’m open to that.” She put the key into the lock. “I mean, we can at least consider it.”

  Sue looked up at the ceiling of the portico. “Are you sure this is safe? It looks like it could all come crashing down on top of us.”

  The columns were rotten, as were most of the boards beneath their feet. “The state of Texas wouldn’t be showing it if it wasn’t safe.” Ellen looked up and saw three big holes.

  “I think there’s a bird living in there,” Tanya said.

  “The state of Texas?” Sue asked. “What do you mean?”

  “The state owns it,” Ellen said. “It’s been pretty much vacant since the last owner died in 1994.”

  “Well, I can certainly see why,” Sue said.

  Tanya giggled. “Oh, come on. Give it a chance.”

  “Apparently the last owner had no one to leave it to and the mortgage had been paid,” Ellen added. “And there was no will.”

  “That’s strange,” Sue said.

  Ellen’s heart ramped up as she opened the door. She’d been admiring this one for a few weeks on her way home from work and had been anxious to see the inside. Having already developed a strange attachment to this house, she hoped it wasn’t going to be disappointing.

  Why did she already care so much about this damn house?

  Maybe it was because she had become desperate for a change. She longed for something new to fill the void that was now her life.

  Oh, stop being so melodramatic, she told herself.

  They entered a foyer with stairs to the second floor. Her heart felt tight, like it was going to burst, and she felt like she was floating outside of her body looking down from the ceiling at them. The three of them together made her think of a Fruit-of-the-Loom commercial. Tanya was the banana. Sue was the bunch of grapes. Ellen was the apple. Why was she thinking of this now? What was happening to her? This whole experience of going in together to buy a fixer-upper was surreal. Up until a few months ago, it had been nothing but talk. Were they really going to do this? Ellen felt a weight pushing her down un
til she was back inside her own body. Instead of relief, she found herself dizzy and unable to breathe.

  She gulped in air and steadied her head with one hand.

  “Are you okay?” Sue asked.

  Ellen nodded and was finally able to take note of her surroundings. After blinking several more times, she was relieved to see the interior framing intact and most of the plaster still on the walls. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be. Her mind began to imagine the place restored and fully decorated—the eighties’ wall paper and shiny brass fixtures replaced with paint and chrome.

  “This is actually pretty nice in here,” Tanya said. “I wonder why it hasn’t sold yet.”

  “Well, now don’t freak out,” Ellen said. “The house has a reputation for being haunted.”

  Tanya and Sue gawked at one another.

  “What do you mean a reputation?” Tanya asked. “Has something evil happened here? Was someone murdered here?”

  “Now hold on, Tanya,” Sue said. “Don’t assume it’s an evil ghost. It might be friendly.” She turned to Ellen. “Tell us what you heard.”

  Ellen was pleased to see Sue’s interest in the house piqued by the mention of a haunting. “The state realtor told Paul that every time they got close to selling this property, the owners bailed within three days after closing.”

  Sue’s face lit up. “Did Paul get any more details? Did the buyers say what made them suspect a ghost was haunting this space?”

  Ellen shook her head, though she was tempted to make something up, just to keep Sue on the hook. “They all thought they heard or saw something in the attic. Should we look around?”

  “We might as well,” Sue said. “If we do make this into a bed and breakfast, a ghost could attract more tourists. The Crocket Hotel does really well with its history of ghosts.”

  Ellen beamed. Sue was practically pulling out her wallet to buy, and she hadn’t even seen the whole place. But now Tanya was the one frowning.

  “What’s wrong, Tanya?” Ellen asked.

  “I’m not getting a good vibe,” she said. “Did Paul say how many different buyers bailed? That concerns me.”

  Ellen had hoped neither would ask that question. “Um, six.”

  Tanya’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “Six different buyers? And they all bailed within three days of closing?”

  Ellen sucked in her lips and nodded. “But come on, guys. There’s got to be a logical explanation. Paul says there’s probably a draft in the attic that makes noises when the wind blows. He was supposed to be here today to check it out for us, but he’s really close to selling another property and had to meet the client for a second showing.”

  Tanya folded her arms. “Oh, come on. A draft wouldn’t fool six people. That’s odd. That’s really odd.”

  Sue had already started the tour without them. She called to them from the front room. “Come check this out. The fireplace seems in excellent condition.”

  Ellen stepped into the living room and was pleased with what she saw. “The hardwood floors and crown molding are in good shape, too.”

  The room was empty except for a single painting over the mantle that had the look of a Victorian portrait. The subject of the painting was a beautiful young woman with dark eyes and dark curly hair and pale skin. She wore a red brocade jacket over a white dress, and one of her breasts was nearly exposed. The painting was both sensual and enigmatic, for the woman’s expression was difficult to read.

  “You’re an art teacher, Ellen,” Sue said. “Do you recognize that painter?”

  “Just because I teach college art—part-time, mind you, as an adjunct—doesn’t mean I’m aware of every painter who ever lived.”

  “I was just asking,” Sue said. “Sounds like you might have a complex.”

  The truth was, Ellen’s memory was failing her. She used to be able to name off all the great painters of the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the Romantic Period, the Modern Period, the Post-Modern-Period, and so forth, but somewhere along the way, between the ages of forty-nine and fifty-five, only a few of her favorites remained accessible in her mind.

  Tanya giggled, and Ellen ignored them as she continued to look around.

  Beyond the living room through a pair of columns was a dining room with an old wooden table and four chairs. It led through to the kitchen at the back of the house, attached to a laundry and mud room. The cabinetry was falling apart and would have to be gutted, but the bones were good. She also found a half bath beneath the stairs and another full bath shared by two bedrooms. Although both bedrooms were vacant, there was an old trunk in the bathroom. Ellen lifted the lid to find it full of dust and cobwebs, but nothing else. Except for the crack in the mirror above the sink, the bathroom was in decent condition.

  “Well, I’m pleasantly surprised,” Sue said at the bottom of the stairs. “It looks a lot better on the inside than on the outside, that’s for sure.”

  “What do you think so far, Tanya?” Ellen asked.

  “I don’t know. It’s nice, but I’m still not happy about the six buyers and the ghost.”

  “There are no such things as ghosts!” Ellen said, forgetting that she needed the ghost card to keep Sue interested.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” Sue said. “You go first, Tanya, since you’re the skinny one, just in case these stairs lose their integrity.”

  “Oh, it’s okay for me to risk my life?” Tanya teased.

  “It’ll just be easier to carry the dead body out of here.” Sue chuckled. “If I broke the stairs and my neck along with them, the state would just decide to leave me here and burn the whole place down.”

  “Oh, stop,” Tanya said.

  “I’ll go.” Ellen tested the first step. “So far so good.”

  They made their way up the creaky stairs and were surprised to find that the second story had a completely different look from the first. Where the downstairs had eighties’ floral wallpaper, along with shiny brass fixtures still intact, the upstairs looked as though it hadn’t been updated since the house was built in 1860. The much older wallpaper was peeling off the walls in many places, and the floors were badly scratched. The second floor looked as dilapidated as the exterior of the house.

  “Well this is disappointing,” Sue said.

  They entered the first bedroom to find it had its own bath. Both the sink and toilet looked ancient, and the tub was badly stained.

  “It stinks up here.” Tanya covered her mouth and nose. “It’s making me nauseated.”

  The second bedroom looked exactly the same, along with another horrid bathroom.

  “It’s very rare to have so many bathrooms in an old house like this,” Ellen said. “I wonder if it might have been turned into a bed and breakfast by the previous owner.”

  “The floorplan is conducive to that,” Sue agreed. “Back in the late 1800’s, it would have been called an inn.”

  “It had to be later than that,” Tanya said. “Weren’t they still using outhouses in the late 1800’s?”

  “Good point.” Ellen followed the others back to the hall. “I think in the thirties and forties a lot of these historic homes were turned into apartments.”

  “What is with these windows?” Tanya asked as she entered the third bedroom. “I noticed them in the other rooms, too.”

  Ellen crossed the floor to see what Tanya was looking at. There were strange holes in the window frame on both the bottom and the top. They were evenly spaced and perfectly round.

  “Burglar bars, maybe?” Ellen offered.

  “But those would be on the outside, not on the inside,” Sue said as she walked into another room. “Oh, wow. Look at this.”

  Ellen and Tanya followed Sue into the last of the four bedrooms.

  “Bars on the inside?” Tanya asked. “But why?”

  “Maybe this was a storm room or something,” Ellen said.

  “And look at this,” Sue pointed to the bed. The other rooms were vacant, but this room had a bed with an
iron frame. “The frame is bolted to the floor. Try to lift it.”

  Ellen and Tanya both attempted to lift the iron footboard. It wouldn’t budge.

  “Someone was a prisoner in this room,” Sue said. “And maybe that person is the ghost that haunts this place.”

  Ellen turned her back to Sue and rolled her eyes.

  “I saw that,” Sue said. “I saw your reflection in the window.”

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “We know that,” Tanya said. “But just because you don’t believe in them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. I told you about that experience with Dave and his mother’s spirit. Do you think I made that up?”

  Ellen sighed. She didn’t want to have this conversation. “No, I don’t think you made it up. But sometimes people see what they want to see.”

  “You never did come up with an explanation for the story I told you,” Sue accused.

  A few months ago, Sue had told Ellen and Tanya that she had been awakened in the middle of the night several times by the sound of someone whispering her name. Her husband had been out of town, and her youngest had already moved into his college dorm. She had convinced herself that it had been her imagination—that maybe a tree had been rubbing against the window, making a sound like a whisper. But then her mother called her in the morning and said she hadn’t been able to sleep either, and when Sue had asked her mother why, her mother had said, “Because all night long, I kept hearing someone whisper my name.”

  Even Ellen had to admit that Sue’s story was pretty freaky. And she didn’t think Sue would make it up just to “prove” Ellen wrong about the nonexistence of anything spiritual in the universe. “You’re right. I have no explanation. But why is the default explanation always ghosts with you people?”

  She followed Sue and Tanya out of the bedroom to the hallway across from the stairs. There was a door they hadn’t opened. Because there were bedrooms with baths on either side of it, Ellen thought the only thing it could be was a closet. When she opened it, though, she found stairs leading up to the attic. At the top of the stairs was another door, and it was closed.