The Haunting of Bechdel Mansion: A Haunted House Mystery- Book 0

by Roger Hayden

  “Yes, but I was scheduled for activation yesterday.” He paused, annoyed. “Your company was given plenty of notice to turn our power on.”

  It wasn’t looking good. Mary said hi to the movers as they breezed past her. She wasn’t sure what was in each box that they set down. She and Curtis had packed everything the prior weekend, and her head still wasn’t clear. Once their possessions were inside, she figured they could decide where to move things later.

  To almost anyone, she thought, the mansion would seem excessive in its size. Everything they owned could probably fit in the downstairs ball room alone. The thought of having so much space was overwhelming, and the thought of living behind these walls felt unreal.

  Curtis had spent the last few weeks convincing her they were making the right decision. She knew him to be impulsive, but in the end, she agreed to it. As she stood in the foyer, surrounded by boxes, she wondered when the reality of their choice would settle in.

  “Just send someone out today. Please,” Curtis said on the phone. “We can’t wait until Monday. That is final.” He hung up the phone and shook his head in frustration.

  Mary gazed up the staircase, eager to see the rooms above, but before she jaunted off into the unknown upstairs, she approached Curtis for an update.

  “Everything okay?”

  Curtis turned to her, flustered. “Yeah, the power company is playing games. Completely dropped the ball on us.”

  She touched his arm. “I’m going to look around some more. Want to join me?”

  Curtis brought his hands up to his head, massaging his temples. “Nah. That’s all right. Why don’t you go check out the master bedroom while I have them move in the rest of our stuff?”

  “Sure thing,” she said with a smile.

  She walked away toward the stairs and climbed the white marble steps, which curved to the second floor. The faded brass railing had circular see-through patterns that ended at two thick rail posts at the top of the stairs. A crystal chandelier hung within eye level over the floor below. She could see the foyer below as well as the lounge, where they had been standing. Everything had a strange and familiar feel to it that she could not look past.

  She turned to the right and went down the hall toward the master bedroom. The doors on both sides of the hall were open halfway, exposing dark, empty rooms. She pushed the master-bedroom door open and walked in with a sense of awe and wonder.

  There was a pair of long windows at the end of bedroom that overlooked the backyard. They were less dirty than most, and sunlight beamed in, illuminating the bare hardwood floors, which were so dusty, she left footprints as she walked across. The white ceiling was high, and the walls were gray-patterned, with tarnished sterling light fixtures at intervals along the way.

  She approached the windows, curious to see the view from their bedroom. The backyard was enormous, with grass so high it covered a stone walkway that led to a sizable gazebo covered in vines. Beyond the gazebo was thick forest, seemingly untouched by man. With its abundance of trees and underbrush, there was no denying that the backyard needed considerable work. She couldn’t imagine the amount of upkeep it was going to take to keep everything under control. She attempted to quell her doubts that they could afford it all. They belonged here. This was their home.

  She turned toward the bathroom at the other end of the room, and decided to have a look. With a click of her flashlight, the room brightened, and she looked inside, taking in its vast size. There was a bathtub, a standing shower, a bidet, an old toilet, and a long counter with two sinks.

  “Mary, where are you?” Curtis’s voice shouted from the hall.

  “Back here,” she said, walking out of the room to meet him. He was leading the movers down the hall as they carried a mattress.

  “We should really clean these floors before moving anything in here.”

  The movers stopped with a large sigh between them as they lowered the mattress. Curtis stood nearby, dazed but understanding. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He turned to the movers. “Hold up, guys. Sorry, we’re going to have to get the cleaners in here first.”

  They leaned against the mattress and shrugged. Curtis went back down the staircase as Mary followed. They walked through the foyer and back outside, where the collective work of a dozen landscapers, painters, and movers continued.

  As she walked into the courtyard, Mary glanced up into the window near the second-story balcony. She could see someone standing there watching them. At first, she assumed it to be one of the movers, but it wasn’t. Her attention went to the front door, where both men walked outside. Her heart seized as she glanced up to the window again, but no one was there.

  ***

  With most of the moving and work done, Mary and Curtis sat on the floor of their master bedroom, their first night in the house. Their mattress sat in the corner with blankets strewn over it. On the floor close by sat two burning candles, a pizza box, and an open bottle of wine on the floor.

  “I heard some scratching in one of the rooms downstairs,” Mary said, taking a sip of wine from her glass.

  Curtis tipped his wine glass with a smile. “Not to worry, my dear, pest control is on it.”

  Mary looked around the room, still feeling overwhelmed. The floor had been cleaned, and there was a startling difference from what it had looked like a few hours ago. The same couldn’t be said of every room. There was still a lot of work to be done.

  “A lot of things still don’t make sense to me,” she said, looking up at the high ceiling.

  Curtis scratched his head. “Like what?” he asked.

  “Like why we moved here,” she answered, touching her forehead. “Everything happened so fast, I really never got a chance to think about it.”

  Curtis smiled, took both empty wine glasses, and stood up. “I know you’re concerned, but you need to stop worrying. I don’t like to see you like this.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mary said. “I really do.”

  Curtis set the wine glasses on their dresser, walked over to Mary, and took her hands in his, pulling her up. “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “We are going to make this work.”

  “Part of me wishes that we just waited a little longer,” Mary said. “Now it’s too late.” She then backed away as Curtis tried to hug her.

  Slighted, Curtis threw his arms down. “Mary, you need to stop this!”

  Suddenly, both candles erupted in a bright burst of flame and then immediately extinguished, leaving the room pitch black. Mary and Curtis stood silently for a moment in the darkness.

  “Just great,” Curtis said, leaning down. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and tried to relight the candles, but the wick wouldn’t catch fire on either one.

  “What the hell’s wrong with these candles?” he asked with increasing frustration.

  “I don’t know,” Mary said. “But that was really strange.”

  He slouched onto their bed, deflated. “How about we just call it a night?”

  “Might as well,” she said, feeling exhausted herself. She joined him on the bed as he kissed her forehead. Slivers of smoke flowed from each candle in the darkness. She still couldn’t wrap her head around it.

  “That was so weird…” she said softly.

  “Did you feel a draft?” Curtis asked. “I felt a slight draft.”

  “Me too,” she said.

  “Must’ve been from outside,” Curtis said, pointing to their open windows. That would have made sense, but the air that evening was still, and there hadn’t been a breeze for hours. They sat together for a moment, lost in their own thoughts. Their first evening in the house was a quiet one, and Mary couldn’t shake the feeling of an unexplained presence. For the moment, she kept such thoughts to herself. There was no sense in trying to convince Curtis of something she couldn’t fully explain herself.

  We can make this work, she thought, drifting asleep. I know we can.r />
  A Stroll through Town

  Mary awoke to sunlight beaming into their room, feeling disoriented. Curtis’s side of the mattress was empty, and she could hear movement downstairs. For a moment, she lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It felt strange to wake up in a new place, especially when she remembered where she was. To her, the Bechdel mansion was a repository of undiscovered secrets, and she found what little she knew about its history to be fascinating.

  As she lay in bed alone, she heard a large thud downstairs followed by several voices. She stretched and leaned over the side of the bed, retrieving her cell phone.

  “Oh no…” she said upon seeing that it was five past ten. She had overslept, and there was still much work to be done. Settling in seemed a mammoth task that could take weeks. She remembered that Curtis also wanted to go into town that day.

  It would take a good shower and a big cup of coffee to get her up and moving. She sat up as she heard footsteps clamoring up the stairs and the sound of Curtis’s voice. “So far, only a few rooms have power. We might have to gut some of the wiring. It’s an old place.”

  She heard them shuffle around in the room next door and stepped out of bed. Her bare feet touched the warm hardwood floor as she went to the door and closed it, muffling the commotion. She turned around and looked at the two open windows across the room overlooking the backyard and felt a slight comforting breeze.

  She walked to her suitcase and placed it on the bed, unzipping it. Hastily packed clothes were crammed inside. The double closet in the room was large enough to hold her entire wardrobe and then some, but for the time being, she was living out of a suitcase.

  She grabbed a T-shirt and white shorts and headed for the bathroom, where she would find out just how well the plumbing worked. A small window illuminated the vast bathroom, and as she walked toward the standing shower, loosening her nightgown, she heard the bedroom door open.

  She froze and held her nightgown on. “Curtis?” she said, feeling nervous with the bathroom door open a crack. The footsteps continued as she walked to the door, calling for Curtis again. As she pushed the door open, she was taken aback to see a large bearded man, sweaty and panting, wandering through the room like a lost child.

  “Excuse me,” she said, backing into the bathroom.

  She heard the man halt. “I-I’m sorry, ma’am. I was just looking for a restroom.”

  She clutched her chest and backed against the wall. “Well, this is our room. Please talk to my husband and find another.”

  The man apologized and stumbled out of the room, closing the door behind him. Mary remained half-clothed and pressed against the wall, her heart pounding. She lowered her arms, sighing in frustration, and closed the door fully. She then went to the shower, which the cleaners had scrubbed down the day before.

  The orange-and-white checkered tile inside looked old-fashioned, to say the least. There were two knobs below the showerhead. She turned the left knob, assuming it was for hot water, and the pipes rumbled and shook, spraying out water intermittently.

  She held her hand into the spray and felt a dash of warmth. After a moment, more water began to flow, but it had an almost sulfuric smell. The last thing she wanted to do was to have a strange odor on her. Beyond the unwelcome intruder from a moment ago, she had the feeling that she was being watched.

  She then heard the bedroom door open again. Her head whipped around, but she heard nothing else. She turned the water off, frustrated. “Damn it, Curtis. That better be you.”

  “What are you so afraid of?” an unfamiliar man’s voice asked.

  Livid, she pulled her T-shirt over her head, put her shorts on, and rushed to the bathroom door, swinging it open, prepared to give whomever it was a piece of her mind. But their room was quiet and undisturbed. The bedroom door was closed and there was no one there.

  She darted to the open windows and looked below into the lush, overgrown backyard. There was no sign of anyone. She didn’t know what kind of game someone was playing, but she didn’t like it. Her hands leaped at the windows and pulled them shut. She scurried across the room and locked the bedroom door. Taking a shower had never proved so difficult. Feeling safer but annoyed, she walked back toward the bathroom, stopping at her suitcase as a thought crossed her mind.

  She leaned down and tore through her clothes in a frenzy. Her hands stopped as she slowly pulled a .38 caliber pistol from the bottom. She was probably over-reacting, but she wasn’t going to take any more chances. She took the gun with her to the bathroom, locked the door, and set it on the gray tile countertop.

  The showerhead dripped as she tried her hand at the knobs again. Water spurted and gushed for a moment before flowing naturally in a warm, steady stream. The strange smell had subsided as well. She stepped inside, feeling an immediate and much-needed relief. It was only morning, and already she felt that she was being tested in some way.

  Showered and dressed, Mary walked downstairs, apprehensive about running into any of the movers. There were several men around, but Curtis wasn’t among them. She politely gave them a “good morning” and continued her search, walking outside into the bright light of morning shining down onto the concrete courtyard.

  There were dozens of people outside, while a short time before, there had been none. Many of them were busy with lawn work, trimming the trees and hedges surrounding the mansion. There was a roofing team above, walking along the ridge and tossing rotted panels into a pile below. That day, Mary imagined, would be much like the day before. Ahead, next to an electrician’s van, she saw Curtis. He stood in the shade with a tall, skinny man who wore a red netted hat.

  She walked over to Curtis, incensed.

  “Good morning,” he said, smiling. His smile, however, dropped once he noticed the serious look on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked her, eyes brimming with concern.

  “Can I talk with you in private?” she asked, glancing at the electrician.

  Curtis looked around, taken off guard. “Yeah… Yeah, sure.” He excused himself and followed Mary around to the other side of the truck. Once they were alone, she leaned closer and spoke in a soft but forceful tone.

  “Someone came into our room earlier when I was in the shower.”

  Curtis’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Yeah,” she said, shaking her head. “The first guy came in by accident. Then someone else just walked in, said something to me, and walked out.”

  Curtis covered his mouth. “What?”

  Realizing she might be making too much of it, she raised her hand as if to stop herself. “If it was an honest mistake, I can understand, but the whole thing gave me the creeps.”

  Curtis nodded, biting his lip. “There’s some electricians in the house now. I’ll talk to them. I’m so sorry, honey. They should know better.”

  “He said, ‘What are you afraid of?’ Those were his exact words. I thought it was you at first, but when I opened the door, no one was there.”

  Curtis looked around with his hands at his sides, growing increasingly frustrated. “Well, that’s it. Whoever that was, they’re gone. I’ll talk to Skip now.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m so sorry.” His face then brightened with a smile. “How about we go into town for a little bit? I’m getting a headache with all this commotion around us.”

  “Sure,” she said. “That sounds nice.”

  She wanted to get out, but above all there was a burning desire to find out more about the Bechdels. Perhaps there were people in town who could help her.

  ***

  They drove into town on a blue-sky day, prepared to get the lay of the land and meet some people in the process. The mansion was roughly five miles from any home, store, or gas station, and it was nice to escape all the activity at home and rejoin civilization. Mary tried to put all the recent strangeness out of her mind and enjoy the scenic beauty of the town before them, a stunning contrast to the traffic and noises of the city. They had entered a different world.<
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  It was a Sunday, and they passed a quaint white church that looked like something out of a storybook. Amidst its fresh green lawn and picket fence, a congregation flowed out of the double-door entrance toward a side parking lot. A wooden sign sat in front of the church with First Christ Church of Redwood neatly painted over it.

  Mary turned and looked at the church as families in their dress clothes, men and women, old and young alike, slowly exited the building for Sunday services. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been to church.

  “It looks nice,” she said. “Maybe we could go there some time and get to know some people.”

  “Sure,” Curtis said. “You have fun with that.”

  Mary turned to him, mouth agape. “As if it would kill you to go to church.” She then leaned back against the headrest and placed her sunglasses on. “I think it would be good for us with everything that’s happened.”

  “Too boring,” Curtis said matter-of-factly.

  Mary laughed. “This coming from a lawyer,” she chided.

  Farther down the road, they passed a park where children climbed a jungle gym and a corner store to their right where an older man stood at the gas pump fueling up his boat, which was hitched to his truck. Downtown was in sight, with its brick-paved roads, vintage light posts, and quaint buildings. “Historic Downtown,” they called it. There was a fire station to their left, small like everything else, that had its bay doors open revealing a shiny red fire truck. A sign at the end of the driveway said, “Redwood Fire Department.”

  A few blocks past the fire station, they saw the police department, where two officers in beige uniforms were talking outside the door. Their heads turned toward the car as Curtis passed and the two officers waved. Curtis gave them a wave back and smiled.

  “This town sure is something,” he said.

  “It does seem like a safe, nice town,” she said. There were plenty of places to go for a run. She had even spotted some nature trails by the park, perfect for jogging. Back home, Mary was an avid runner, and she tried to make the time at least three times a week. It refreshed her and made her feel focused, an important part of her weekly routine. She scanned the buildings ahead, hoping to see the library. Then she wondered if it would even be open on a Sunday.