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The Halloween Haunting

Page 6

by Kathi Daley


  Tony slowly bobbed his head. “I’ve been looking at the walls and how their placement interacts with the roofline ever since we found the secret room. I think there might have been stairs connecting the landing on the second floor to the widow’s walk and clock tower via the back staircase at one time. The wall is really wide in this area as if a staircase once existed but was removed or walled in.”

  “Maybe Edward walled it in after Elizabeth fell to her death,” I suggested.

  “If she fell and wasn’t pushed,” Bree added.

  “I assumed the wall was solid,” Tony continued, “but maybe it isn’t. Maybe there is a trick to accessing the space via a moving panel in either the second-floor hallway or the attic.”

  It was at this point that the four of us headed for the stairs. Tony suggested starting with an access point from the end of the existing staircase. Currently, the narrow stairs led to a small landing which featured a closet that might have been designated for linens on the back wall. If you turned right at the top of the stairs, you could access the second-floor rooms. If at some point the staircase had continued on to the widow’s walk and clock tower, it would have been located where the closet now existed. Tony and Mike set to work to try to find the lever that would open the wall assuming one actually existed.

  “I think I have something,” Mike said after a good twenty minutes of us tapping on the walls, pushing on shelves, and looking for any sort of lever or knob. Bree, Tony, and I gathered behind Mike as he pushed one of the shelves to the side, and the wall opened, revealing a wooden staircase.

  “Well, look at that,” Bree said.

  The staircase was narrow and steep and led straight up toward another wall. Eventually, Mike found the lever to open that wall as well. The opening led out to the widow’s walk. There was a narrow ledge which led from the widow’s walk to the clock tower. “I think we know how Joe and his killer got up here,” Mike said.

  “I think you might be right.” I pointed to the dusty steps. “Footprints. And not just yours.”

  Chapter 9

  Saturday, October 19

  I reached out to find the bed empty beside me. Slowly opening my eyes, I looked toward the window to find the sun high in the sky. It had been late by the time we’d gotten back to my cabin last night, and I hadn’t slept well the night before, so once my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light. I considered pulling the covers over my head and going back to sleep, but I could smell bacon and coffee that seemed to accompany the sounds coming from the kitchen, and I figured bacon and coffee were worth getting up for. I glanced over the side of the bed to see that even Tilly had deserted me. Not that I blamed her. As I’d already established, bacon and coffee were a heck of a good reason to pull ones tired body out of bed.

  Tugging on my robe, I headed toward the kitchen, a short journey in my little cabin. “Wow, what’s all of this?”

  Tony handed me a cup of coffee already splashed with cream. “We never did eat dinner last night, and I suspect we won’t be having much of a dinner tonight, so I decided to make a big breakfast to tide us over. How do you want your eggs?”

  I looked at the muffins, home fries, bacon, and sausage already on the table. “Scrambled is fine.” I really didn’t see how we were ever going to eat all this food, but I was committed to doing my part in the effort.

  “So what time did you want to head over to the haunted house?” Tony asked, refilling my coffee.

  “It opens at six, and the volunteers are due to arrive at five, so I’d like to be there by four at the latest. Maybe even earlier just in case our prankster has been busy and has locked us out again.”

  “I sort of doubt that whoever is pranking us would pull the same prank twice, but I get what you are saying.” Tony poured the eggs he’d beaten into a pan.

  “Was there something specific you wanted to do today before we have to head over to the house?” I asked, as I broke a muffin in half and buttered one side.

  “I’ve been thinking about the hidden staircase and the fact that Joe must have found it, which is how he came to be in the clock tower when he died. It occurred to me we might want to have a heart to heart with Grange. I mean Joe and Grange had been friends and coworkers before Joe went solo, and Joe did come to the house in the first place at Grange’s invitation. I think he might know something we don’t about Joe’s motivation for returning to the house that night.”

  I took a bite of the muffin I’d just buttered. “Okay, so do you want to stop by Grange’s house later?”

  “I called Grange, and he is taking his boys to the fishing derby they are holding out at the apple farm today. He said if we wanted to stop by, he would be happy to chat with us.”

  The Harlow Family Apple Farm was a well-known fall destination in the area. Not only did they sell everything apples, including pick your own apples and apple pie, but they had a pumpkin patch, hay maze, and fishing pond as well.

  “Okay,” I said. “That could actually be fun. I’ll get ready as soon as we eat. I don’t think they allow dogs, so I guess we should walk the kids before we go.”

  “I took the dogs for a walk while you were sleeping. They should be fine until we get home.”

  “And the cats? Have they been fed?”

  “All the animals have been fed. Do you want orange juice or just coffee?”

  “Just coffee.”

  After taking a minute to fill my plate with the delicious food Tony had made, I sat back to consider the situation. “I’ve been thinking about the fact that it looks as if Joe found the hidden passage that led to the widow’s walk, but how did he know it was there in the first place?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m hoping Grange might know. We didn’t talk long when I called him this morning, but he did say that one of the reasons he approached Joe about helping out with the repairs on the house in spite of the fact that he really isn’t a dog person who would think to volunteer for a shelter fundraiser is because he has been interested in the house for a long time and figured he would welcome the opportunity to get a peek inside.

  “So maybe he knew something about the history of the place before he even showed up to work.”

  “That would be my guess. I don’t know to what extent he’d studied the history of the house, but perhaps Grange will know.”

  “Perhaps. By the way, Shaggy is going fix a malfunctioning coffin this morning. Do you know if he has a key to the place? If not, we’ll need to go by to let him in.”

  “He doesn’t have a key. We talked about it last night, and he decided to show up early for his shift this evening. He said he’d be there no later than four. We should be there by then, so we can let him in, and I can give him a hand if need be.”

  “He really has done a great job with the props. Sometimes I forget that behind the childlike exterior is a pretty smart guy.”

  “He is smart. But I know what you are saying. He does have a quality about him that makes one wonder if he isn’t a perpetual child.”

  In spite of the massive quantity of food Tony had prepared, we actually managed to do a pretty good job finishing it off. He really was a good cook, and I enjoyed the meals he prepared. Having a huge breakfast would not keep me away from the apple fritters at the apple farm. Eating everything apple during the fall was a long-held tradition in the Thomas family.

  After we arrived and parked, we headed toward the fishing pond which is where Grange had told Tony he’d be. I hoped we’d have time to pick some apples and maybe gather a few pumpkins before we had to leave since being at the farm had put me in the mood to do both. I remembered coming here with Mike and my mom and my dad when I was a kid. Every year we’d taken a full day to enjoy all that the farm had to offer. At some point, we’d stopped coming. I supposed it was after my dad died, or at least after we’d been informed of his death despite his very undead state of being.

  “I forgot how much I loved coming here,” I said to Tony as we walked hand in hand across the well-groomed lawn toward the
fishing pond. It was nice being in the midst of families enjoying the perfect autumn day. Kids ran in every direction playing games of tag, while their parents sat on blankets in the shade sharing a bottle of apple wine. When was the last time Tony and I had sat and simply relaxed? It seemed that as of late when I wasn’t delivering mail, and he wasn’t working with his software customers, he was working on his video game with Shaggy, and I was either volunteering at the shelter or at one of the multitudes of community events the town held.

  “There he is,” Tony pointed toward a picnic table where Grange was sitting with another man about his age watching a group of kids fish.

  “Tess, Tony,” Grange greeted as we walked up. “This is my friend, Bob.”

  “Happy to meet you,” Tony and I both responded.

  “Pull up a seat,” Grange offered.

  Tony and I sat down on the bench across from him.

  “I’m going to go into town and get some more bait like we discussed,” Bob informed Grange. “Do you want me to get more beer as well?”

  “Always.”

  Once Bob left, Tony got right to the point. “As I indicated when I called, we wanted to talk to you about Joe and his relationship with the Vandenberg house. We figure that if we can find out the reason he went back that night, we might be able to track down his killer.”

  “I’m happy to share what I know,” Grange answered. “Joe was a good guy. I want his killer brought to justice.”

  “As do we,” I agreed.

  He cleared his throat. “I guess Joe first found out about the house three or four years ago. He was still working for Greg and me then, and we had this kitchen remodel just outside of town. Joe and I live in the same neighborhood, so we’d carpool to and from work. The job took us past the Vandenberg house each day, and it seemed like we’d end up talking about it. Joe was fascinated by the architecture. I’d actually studied architecture before deciding to go into construction with my dad and brother, so while I didn’t finish college, I knew enough to make the conversation interesting.”

  “It certainly is an interesting house,” Tony said. “What exactly would you call that style?’

  “Early American Hodgepodge,” Grange chuckled.

  “It is eclectic,” I agreed.

  “I know that Edward Vandenberg was from England,” Grange said. “He came from a wealthy family, and he used his inheritance to come to the States and make a name for himself. He settled in the area early in its history and was actually one of the first men to own and operate a lumber mill. He didn’t stay, so he isn’t considered to be a town founder, but he was influential in the development of what was to come after.”

  “And Elizabeth?” I asked.

  “She was English as well. I guess she came to the area to be with Edward. They married but never had children. And as you know, she fell to her death from the widow’s walk. Edward eventually married a woman named Barbara, and they had one child, a girl named Ethel. Barbara fell down the stairs and broke her neck. At some point after that, Edward went back to England, and Ethel lived in the house alone.”

  I raised a brow. “I thought Edward died.”

  “Not as far as I know. I did a bit of research at one point, and I never found evidence of his death. I did find a news article where Ethel told the reporter that her dad had moved back to England, although she didn’t elaborate as to when or why he returned and left her alone in the house.”

  “Was she an adult by this point?” I asked.

  “A young adult. I’d say early thirties, although I’m uncertain as to the exact year.”

  I glanced at Tony. His expression was thoughtful.

  “So the dad moves away, and Ethel lives alone in the house for the rest of her life?” I asked.

  “As far as I know,” Grange answered. “I really have no idea why she never married, but I was never able to find any sort of evidence that she had, so I have to assume she hadn’t.”

  “The widow’s walk looked as if it was added to the structure for ornamental reasons. Did you know there was a hidden passage that would allow access?” I asked Grange.

  “Did I know there was one? No. Did I suspect there was one? Yes. On many occasions, Joe and I discussed that it made no sense to build a widow’s walk and clock tower and not include a means of accessing them. We both suspected that Edward walled in the access to the stairs leading up to the roof area after Elizabeth fell. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Joe went back to the house to look for the access. He was even more fascinated in the mystery surrounding the Vandenberg house than I was. I was curious, but at times, I was convinced that Joe was obsessed.”

  “As it turns out, there is a hidden passage, and it does appear that someone, probably Joe, found it,” Tony said. “I guess if Joe was as fascinated with the mystery as you say, it is conceivable that he unlatched a window so he could get back in to take a look around after everyone had left, and if he found the hidden passage, it makes sense he might have used it to check out the clock tower. What we don’t know is who killed him. Joe must have had someone with him. Any idea who?”

  Grange paused. He tilted his head and drummed his fingers on the table in front of him. “Honestly, if Joe did have plans to go back and look for the hidden passage, I’m surprised he didn’t call me. We’d talked about it often enough, and even though some people assume we had a falling out since he went into business for himself, nothing could be further from the truth. Joe and I have been friends for a long time. I understood his desire to have his own business. I felt the same way when I decided to work for my dad instead of pursuing a career as an architect. In spite of what others have said, the two of us were fine. Good even. There isn’t a single reason I can think of why he would have called anyone other than me to go on this adventure with him if that is what he planned to do.”

  “And yet, that seems to be exactly what he did. If not you, who do you think he would be most likely to ask?”

  Grange slowly shook his head. “I really don’t know. Maybe his neighbor. I think his name is Jack. The two weren’t close the way Joe and I were close, but their wives are friends, and I know they barbecue and hang out from time to time. I suppose the two men might have chatted about the house at some point along the line, and if they did, Joe might have thought to include Jack in his treasure hunt.”

  “Treasure hunt?” I asked. “Are you talking about a real treasure as in money and jewels and treasure like that?”

  Grange nodded. “Like I said, Edward was a rich man from a rich family. It is a well-held belief that he brought his millions to America with him. Some people say that Edward took his riches home with him when he left and returned to England, and others say he was murdered and never left, and that the riches he brought to America with him are still hidden somewhere in that house.”

  Chapter 10

  “Well, the rumor about a treasure certainly lends itself to an interesting twist to this story,” I said to Tony as we headed back toward my cabin.

  “It certainly does. It would seem a treasure worth millions might be a pretty good motive for murder.”

  “So are we thinking that perhaps Joe and Jack were participating in a neighborhood barbecue and somehow they got on the subject of the Vandenberg house? The men began to talk, theories were shared, and after a few beers, Joe finds himself telling Jack about the treasure that is rumored to be hidden somewhere in the house. When Grange offers Joe the opportunity to get a peek inside the house as a volunteer, he takes it. He has a look around and notices the odd roofline the same as you did. Being a contractor, he suspects a secret room or passage of some sort. The place is packed with volunteers, so he unlatches a window and plans to return later. He waits for his wife to go to bed and then sneaks out. Either he knows he’ll need help and hits up the neighbor, or the neighbor sees him leaving and asks him about it. One way or another, they both end up at the house. They find the secret staircase leading to the widow’s walk. Once they have accessed the widow’s walk, they
realize they can also access the clock tower. They do so and then Jack, figuring that if Joe is dead, he can have the treasure to himself, kills Joe and leaves him where he is certain that no one will find him.”

  Tony adjusted his hands on the wheel. “That all fits, but why kill Joe? I sort of doubt they found the treasure in the small amount of time they might have been at the house. Why kill him at that point?”

  “Maybe Jack assumed that Joe was the only one who knew about the treasure and he didn’t want to risk him telling someone else,” I said, but I was actually less than sure of this.

  “I guess we should call Mike when we get back and let him sort this out.”

  “Yeah,” I sighed, feeling down about not being there for the kill. “I guess that would be best. Mike can talk to Jack, and if he is guilty, he can arrest him. You and I have a fundraiser to prepare for.”

  By the time we returned to the cabin, called Mike, and filled him in on everything we knew as well as everything we suspected, we barely had time to grab a light lunch and head to the haunted house. Neither of us had reason to believe the pranksters had struck again, but they’d been making regular appearances to this point, so we figured it was prudent to be better safe than sorry.

  As it turned out, we were glad we’d arrived at three instead of four since it looked as if the prankster had struck again during the overnight hours.

  “I don’t get it,” I said, staring at the house on which someone had painted red tears dripping down from the upstairs windows. It looked as if the house was crying blood.

  “It’s just someone needing to leave their mark.” Tony looked at the house. “I have time to paint over it if you want. The paint won’t have time to dry, but the tears are on the exterior of the house so it should be fine.”

  “Let’s look inside first to make sure we don’t have an even a bigger issue to deal with in there.”

  Thankfully, the interior of the house was undisturbed, so Tony and I went back to deal with the tears.

 

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