by Zoey Kane
Zo opened her mouth to respond, but he continued, “For an estate this size, I would definitely have one.”
“I do have an accountant,” she cut in, with frustration. “Furthermore, I have invested a lot of money bringing this mansion up to speed. For just one example of many, modern plumbing—there’re toilets and showers in each one of the east wing bedrooms. So you can see my investment is great.”
“Of course, it would be. Get in touch with your lawyer as well, so that he can be working on finding the loopholes for you. Ha ha ha. Just a little IRS humor for you… heh heh (snort!). The fact of the matter is, Ms. Kane, the IRS is not the welcome wagon. We just collect the money for the Feds. Nothing personal. I mean that—nothing personal is taken into account. You and a lot of people are in over their heads in property. You still have to pay up, or we take the place. Well, I’ll get busy now. Pay no mind to me.” He walked on, taking notes.
“Clairrrrre!” Zo called as soon as she got in the front door. “Bring your cell phone!”
Two worry-filled months went by and many calls were made to lawyers, before she finally picked one that made her feel confident. And then the letter came with the totals and the due date. “There is no way we can pay this, Mom, even if we sold off some of our treasures… because a lot of them are contracted to museums anyway. I am feeling awfully poor all of a sudden, and insecure.”
“Yes, and I did some research, thinking I would be forced to sell. Nobody can afford to buy it for what the IRS wants in back taxes, either. It looks like they are going to get it all; they aren’t just charging for this year. What we have here is a value about equal to a little country. And all the new construction sites for housing developments suddenly popping up on this side of the river, does not help. Value is going up on this side of town.” Zo put her head in her hands. “Ohhh, oh, oh, oh!”
“Yeah, bring out the ice-cream and cake. I need comforting,” sighed Claire.
The cell phone rang. “Yes, tonight? You guys have become pretty good to us, haven’t you?! You know, Bob, Mom and I thought we were just going to pig out on ice cream and cake. We found out we are losing this estate and are going to be poor again and we are bummed out.”
There was a long pause.
“No, that’s okay, I understand. Yeah, okay, bye.”
“Well?” Zo ask dryly.
“He was appropriately sorry, and he got off the phone fast, saying he remembered he had other business to take care of. Do you want to cry? I do…”
“I’ll get the cake and dish the ice cream. You make our tea and we’ll cry together.” A pitter patter began to drum on the window. “Rain again. It seems softer though, dear.”
“I thought you said this was going to be a softer rain!” It started to pour.
“At least this is not a thunder storm… What was that?”
“Thunder,” replied Claire, unmoved and resigned.
An hour had gone by when there was a rapping at the door. “People rarely use the doorbell, ever notice that?” Zo asked on the way to the door.
She opened it to reveal two wet guys holding a pizza, salad, soft drink, and giant chocolate chip cookies in a plastic container. In a plastic bag hung around Lucas’s arm were three more assorted ice-creams, fudge sauce and maraschino cherries. “Which fireplace are we going to use tonight?” Bob asked.
The ladies instantly brightened up. “How about we use the library tonight? We can play cards, billiards, or just watch the fire from the leather couch.”
“It sounds very warm and cozy. Lucas drove, but I brought Mr. Smith with me. He is still in the car. What room should I put him in with his kitty treats?”
“How about the sunroom for now?” Zo replied.
“Great! We are going to have what you girls call a slumber party. All on the up and up, of course.” He winked. “Lucas and I are going to hit the road in the morning before either of you girls opens an eye.”
It was all very fun. And, yes, there were moments of very endearing kisses. Claire had some alone time in the kitchen, helping Lucas unpack treats. Zo and Bob had a comfortable spot on the leather couch.
When the guys went to settle their overnight packs into their bedrooms, leaving Claire and Zo to sit alone in the library, the women bubbled over the surprise.
As they were talking, Claire’s attention was taken by a sound. “Mother! Do you hear that?”
“What? What are you hearing?”
Claire listened carefully, this time not hearing anything. She was sure she heard that tune again—Allegany Moon. “Oh, never mind. It must have been something else. I thought I could hear the carousel.”
“You know it is down in the museum. Forget that stuff and relax.”
“You are soooo right!”
TWENTY-ONE
Bob and Lucas were gone early in the morning, as promised. Having found out they may not be able to live in Hillgate Manor much longer, Zo didn’t feel like waking up. She felt a hand pat her shoulder, while she still lay between the silk sheets.
“Mother… Mother. Time to wake up. It’s eleven o’clock. Check out time.”
“That’s not funny after yesterday,” Zo grumbled. Her strawberry-blonde tendrils were in a heaping mass of tangles.
“Everything will be okay, Mom. Let’s go have some lunch,” Claire coaxed.
“Oh, I have a headache.” Zo dropped her head back on the pillow. “Do I have to?”
“Well, what? Would you like breakfast in bed with an aspirin instead?”
“Oh, that will work wonders.” Zo tried to smile, but noticed it came off feeling very fake.
She noticed Claire was still in her nightgown. “Did you just wake up as well?”
“No, I woke up about a half hour ago. I just laid in bed thinking for a while. So, what would you like to eat?”
“Okay, well, yes. I’ll have the Dr. Seuss special: green eggs and ham,” Zo said.
“That’s the spirit.” Claire patted her mother’s head.
“Why do sometimes I feel like the child?” Zo said to herself after Claire exited.
Claire quickly went downstairs to make breakfast. While she was stirring the pancake mixture in the kitchen, she thought of a great idea. “I’ll make rum cake, while I’m at it, to have after dinner tonight. That should make Mom a little happier.”
She left the batter where it was by the stove and headed to the parlor. Upon entering, she noticed the Venus Moon ship painting laying flat on the ground. It had fallen off the wall. It was a curiosity, but Claire thought, Well, that is a symbol of my life! She hung it back up.
Claire then went over behind the parlor’s bar and looked in some cupboards. “There’s some. Rum!” she said feeling rewarded.
She then headed back toward the door to go to the kitchen, but there it was again—the Venus Moon ship, laying on the ground.
“Hm?” Claire paused a moment, picked up the painting again and inspected the wall from which it hung. “Mental note—get thicker nail to hang up picture.” With that said, she placed the picture on the bar for later recovery.
As she gently poured the batter into the skillet for one large pancake, she looked at her clock and thought of her mom. “I don’t need to check up on her.” Claire thought how silly it was to think it was necessary at that moment.
She cracked some eggs and put them in an adjacent skillet with butter. Again the thought came to her: go check on Mom.
While getting ready to crack another egg for herself to eat, over the skillet, she heard something—her mother screamed. “Mother’s not a screamer.” Claire unknowingly dropped the egg on the floor and ran for the stairs.
“Mom! What’s wrong?!” Claire burst through the double doors.
Zo’s face was pale like a ghost, or as if she had seen a ghost. She just sat straight up in bed and pointed, not saying a word.
“Oh no, not again,” was all Claire could say.
TWENTY-TWO
FIND MORE CLUES, FIND MORE CLUES, the mirror once again
said in mauve lipstick.
“Am I seriously in the Twilight Zone?” Claire asked. “Or are we in a movie, being rewound and replayed at the audience’s favorite parts?”
Zo caught her breath. “Darling, I couldn’t help but scream. I was all alone when this happened.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t understand. I just got up a moment to look at my hair in the mirror and that’s what greeted me. I don’t get it.”
“Well, neither do I…”
“We know that Dick is dead,” Zo explained.
“Yes, we do. We saw the coroner take him away ourselves.”
“Do you smell that?” Zo asked, fearful.
“What?”
“Fire! Oh, no!”
“Oh, no, my pancakes!” Claire exclaimed.
The two of them rushed downstairs to find the pancakes now looked like the black Irish cookies Claire’s Aunt Molly used to bake. The ones they pretended to like…
“Well, what are we going to do now?” Claire huffed.
“Let’s get out of this house for lunch,” Zo suggested.
“Good idea!”
They grabbed their purses and long jackets to cover up their nightgowns and headed out the door.
“What about my awful hair?” Zo asked as they jogged to the Volkswagen.
“Don’t worry, I have a pocket comb in my purse.”
Down at the Homestyle Buffet, Claire and Zo sure looked like some duo, applying the last bit of concealer out of Claire’s handbag underneath their eyes.
“You know, darling. Maybe you were right from the beginning. The house is cursed. What do you think we should do about it?”
“Yes. You know… come to think of it, the Venus Moon ship picture fell to the ground twice while I was downstairs. I just assumed it was from the old little nail barely holding it up, but maybe it was something else.”
“Daughter, are you starting to believe in ghosts?”
“As a smart man once said, ‘if a tree falls in the forest and you don’t hear it’…”
“…It means we need our hearing aids turned up. Yes, we all know that one,” Zo said seriously.
“No, Mother…” Claire eyed her.
“What?” Zo asked.
Claire got a ring on her cell phone. “Who could that be…? Hello?” she answered. “It’s for you, Mom.”
“Ms. Kane, this is agent Sandra Darelle. We have not received your payment of assessments yet. You have a deadline, after which we foreclose and auction your property. I’m sorry.”
“Yes, I am aware of that and am doing everything possible to meet your due date.”
“Thank you. Good luck in your efforts. Ms. Kane, I must also inform you that you will not get any further reminder. What you will receive after this date is a certified foreclosure notice that cannot be rescinded.”
“Thank you for telling me. Good-bye…” Zo hung up. “Butthead,” she added. “Hey, you know what we need to do, Claire? FIND MORE CLUES! FIND MORE CLUES!”
*
When the two got home, they left a message on Lucas’s voicemail, asking him if he wouldn’t mind calling Bob and kindly spending the night again. He happily obliged.
That night, the men showed up with fast food chicken, coleslaw, corn on the cob, macaroni and cheese, biscuits… and orange juice to ensure everyone’s good health. They danced in the ballroom; pet Mr. Smith; played a round of billiards; looked at the notorious attic; room number ten; sat in the barber chair in Mr. Fillmore’s room; talked about the old car pictures on his wall.
Bob mixed virgin margaritas for the ladies, and he and Lucas partook of a glass of white wine. They munched the chips and salsa, always kept at the bar. Then they agreed they needed to keep their strength up for the next day of work, and all went to their rooms for the night.
“What’s that?” Claire asked Zo.
“Is it the IRS already driving in trucks to haul everything away, throw us out, and nail the doors shut?”
“No. It doesn’t sound like that.”
“Is it the Sandman, mad at you for not letting him put you to sleep, and he’s chewing you out?”
“No, it doesn’t sound like that.”
“Is it Jason or Freddie Kruger?”
“No. I don’t think so, anyway.”
“Good. Then I don’t care. Go to sleep!”
“Listen, Mom, I’m serious. Listen. What is that?”
Zo forced herself to sit up in bed and rubbed her eyes.
“That! Hear it?”
“Yes. It’s the guys playing billiards.”
“The guys said they were going to bed. Why would they meet up again in the billiards room?”
“I don’t know. What, you want to go ask them?”
“Come on, Mom. Let’s go see. No groaning. You want to make sure nobody kidnaps me, don’t you?”
“I will gut-punch anyone who tries!” assured Zo.
They had their flashlights again, and were stealthily walking up the stairs and down to the billiards room. The two heard the knocking of balls again. When they got to the door they could see there was no light on.
“Since when does anyone play in the dark?” asked Zo.
“You know the answer to that. So, get ready for another fight. Put the flashlight into battle mode! …But first, shine it around to see who we have to fight.”
TWENTY-THREE
They pushed open the door and shined in the light. No one could be seen. Claire stepped in, followed by Zo, who reached over and turned on the light. They walked all through the room, looking in every corner: behind the heavy drapes, under the table and behind all the chairs and couches. Nobody there.
“Remember? We put the balls in the tray and put up the sticks? Look at the table,” said Zo.
“Yep, there is a ball break on the table. No cues.”
Just then, one ball began to roll across the table. They watched it as it rolled into an opposite corner pocket. “Don’t ask me if the table has a slant, because then all the balls would be rolling,” informed Claire. She went over to the basket the ball rolled into and reached in to grab it. A puzzled look crossed her face and she reached deeper. “The ball is not here.” She bent down to look directly into the basket. “No ball. Not at all.”
“What do you mean no ball?” Zo asked.
“There’s just no ball here. You saw it roll, also, didn’t you? I mean, my mind isn’t playing tricks on me, is it?”
“Yes, I saw it roll, also. It was the cue ball. They must have got a scratch, whoever rolled it.”
“I can’t believe you’re joking about this one, Mom. This is like Poltergeist. I think I want to run and go get Lucas,” Claire said.
“Let me take a look, darling.” Zo walked over to the basket-pocket and she, too, witnessed it empty. “It’s probably the same ghost that wrote ‘Find More Clues…’”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s look around the table for a clue. We know the table isn’t slanted, dear. There’s no other explanation. Let’s look.”
Claire and Zo felt and looked along the rim of the table.
“Wait a minute!” Claire announced. “Okay, that is something unusual. Do you know if billiards tables have key locks?”
“Are you telling me there is a lock there?” asked Zo as she walked around to get a look for herself. Sure enough, there was a golden lock waiting for a little key to be inserted at the joint between the lip of the top and side of the table.
“What do you suppose it does?”
Zo reached into her robe for her ring of keys they had found in Mr. Fillmore’s room. “These are still in here from the other day when I was wanting to unlock the gun case.” All the keys were too big. “Actually, there is not any key on this ring that will fit that key hole.”
“What size key would fit there?” asked Claire.
“Hmmm, a diary key would still be too big.”
“How about this?” Claire took Lilly’s necklace off and was holdin
g the key to the locket.
“I thought that was in the memorial.”
“Not on weekends,” Claire said. “Lilly lets me use it.”
Zo smiled and arched an eyebrow and then stepped aside. Claire crouched down and inserted the key. But before she ever turned it, something peculiar happened—the insertion tripped a spring lock and the felt table top clicked. They lifted the top.
“Oh, my… gosh!” Zo exclaimed and hurried to lift the top further.
Claire helped also, using all of her strength. The top was on hinges. They pulled up on it like a lid to a jewelry box. As they revealed their discovery, they were gasping. This must have been the true treasure: gold bars; a jewel-encrusted box; papers of stock, with one saying Coca Cola; gold coins; and bundles of gold notes. There was too much to even identify.
“I want to dive into it and swim!” Zo exclaimed.
“I want to look at that jewel box right there,” said Claire, reaching over.
“Go! Hand me the leather bag while you’re at it.”
“Jewelry for a queen,” marveled Claire.
“Mine is a bag of rubies and sapphires. I’m not kidding, look!”
“Shall we go get the guys and tell them about our find?” asked the giddy daughter.
“No! It isn’t wise. It would weird them out!”
“You’re right. You’re right.” She snapped out of it.
“We have to keep it a secret right here in this very place that it has been secure all these years. In fact, pick out a favorite piece of jewelry now… and remember people will see what you take.”
“All right. I agree.” Claire grabbed a four karat diamond ring. “Is this a wise choice, Mother? I don’t want Lucas to think I got engaged overnight to someone else.”
“Just wear it on your right hand, and tell him the truth—it’s an heirloom.”
“What would you choose, Mother?”
