by Zoey Kane
“I might make an exception for you, my lovely.” A smile snuck across his lips.
Claire lowered her head, trying to avoid any kind of reply.
“Next to him,” Penny continued, “is Aunt Aloise, who may look like a bag lady, but has Alzheimer’s. We call her Auntie Al.”
Zoey gasped. Choking on spit, she let out a sudden hard cough that couldn’t be stifled. Everyone watched as she turned red and buried the rest of her coughing in her sleeve. When she felt she could resume composure, she looked up with a deadpan face. Thinking of the lady’s punny name, she squeaked, “What an interesting coincidence…” Zoey decided to take a few steps down the way. She was out of control.
“What caused all of that with Zo?” Penny asked Claire.
“Oh, she heard a little embarrassment, a slight accident of mine,” Claire lied again to save face. This was not a lie she was comfortable telling. She hated “slight accidents” that rhymed with part. For her mother, though… “I’m just having a bit of a stomach problem today.” She nearly had gasped, too, when Penny linked Auntie “Al” so close to Alzheimer’s.
“Well, if she thinks that’s funny,” Penny said, “she should sit next to Cousin Constipaleon sometime.”
Strangled laughter came from down the way.
“I still know where my dog is!” said Auntie Al in reply to the Alzheimer’s accusation. She patted her wiry gray hair, a little insulted.
Penny stepped beside Claire and said quietly, “She hasn’t got a dog.”
Claire nodded, feeling compassionate.
Penny resumed introductions once Zoey felt in control enough to return. “Finally, there’s Gavier and Darla’s seven-year-old daughter, BonBon.”
“I don’t like you!” the little girl in light brown pigtails spouted at the Kanes.
“Good to know,” Claire replied, undaunted. “So, Aloise, BonBon and the rest have interesting family names.” Then she turned to Penny’s little blond friend. “B.B., you should fit right in.”
Giving a once-over glance at the family, B.B. simply said, “No.”
A black wrought-iron serving trolley jostled in, interrupting things. Theona Woot lifted a lid off of a platter of stacked hot pastrami sandwiches. Beside it was a jar of pickles, paper plates and tea service. The Kanes brought chairs for themselves from the dining room and took a seat.
After swallowing a bite, Zoey asked their company, “What wood is that beautiful black fireplace made of?”
“My mommy says it’s gaboon ebony,” BonBon said with conceit. “It cost a lot. Don’t touch it!”
The brown-haired child had a low forehead and spaces between all of her teeth, reminding Claire of one of her favorite 80’s movies, Gremlins. For a moment, she wondered how the girl would take to being doused with water. Wait, she thought. That made them multiply. The strange feeling that her mother was having the same thoughts came over her. It was usually Zoey, after all, who got easily annoyed by bratty children.
A mysterious gust of wind blew the fire out, breaking Claire out of her thoughts. With puzzled and fearful expressions, the group eyed the embers that slowly rekindled until they suddenly roared wildly back to life. Eating resumed and the doorbell tolled.
Theona answered it. She returned, escorting an eccentric woman around Penny’s age. “Cousin Porsha has arrived.”
The new arrival eyed the group with disinterest from behind leopard-print cat’s eye glasses, her deep purple shadow caked on. She smoothed long black hair over her shoulders in silence and crossed her arms.
Penny stepped closer to Zoey’s seat and said under her breath, “Her name is really Linda, but she legally changed it. She thinks she’s a medium who can commune with the dead.” Then she brightened up, saying louder, “Porsha dear, you know everyone, and you’ve heard about the Kanes here…” She motioned toward them. “There’s tea if you’d like some and sandwiches. Help yourself.”
“Good grief, Penny,” Porsha complained, “couldn’t you get the lights turned on and some heat?” She approached the trolley to pour some tea.
“This house is condemned, so there’s no lights and no heat. So, will you be leaving?” Penny’s eyebrows raised with hope.
“You wish!” Porsha paused her tea pouring. “Whatever treasure that is here should be mine. I spent the most time here with Aunt Mavis.”
That brought a sarcastic laugh from the Constipaleons and Spike.
“Give her twenty dollars! Red Cross has always been a proper charity. No blood. Can’t make me.”
Penny walked over to Aunt Aloise and gave her a pat. “What a good idea. Don’t worry ’bout a thing. If she can find twenty dollars, she can have it.”
Claire nodded, and reached over and took a sandwich. Penny grabbed a sandwich for herself, and sat on a black leather chair. She took a bite and added around her unswallowed food, “Proctor set up a propane barbecue in the kitchen. He knows his stuff.”
Something flapped against Zoey’s right ear, ruffling her strawberry blond hair. She yelped in fear, thinking of bats. The family laughed at her surprise. It wasn’t a bat. It turned out to be a raven, trying to get comfortable on her shoulder.
Darla offered an explanation. “That there is Milo, Aunt Mavis’s pet who comes and goes through the cat door in the kitchen. We’ve met him already.” Then she added, “There is no cat. He died a couple years ago. He’s probably buried in the family pet plot out back.”
Zoey’s light brown eyes were met by Milo’s black pearly ones. “Thanks for filling me in on that,” she said to Darla, not sure if she should move.
“That’s my raven!” BonBon stuck her little nose in the air. “He likes no one but me. He’ll probably poop on you.”
“You have such a lovely child,” Zoey said with a fake smile. “Ms. Constipaleon, do you and your husband mind if I call you Darla and Gavier?”
The bearded lady smiled proudly, showing especially long cuspid teeth. “Please do that. We are not elitists.”
A cold breath of air totally blew the fire out this time. B.B. screamed, nearly jumping onto Penny’s lap.
“Well, that does it!” exclaimed Penny in frustration. “I’m going to bed and I’ll meet you all here again at eight o’clock in the morning for breakfast.”
“Make it seven!” said B.B. nervously, shaking as she stood back up. “I don’t think anyone will be able to sleep in around here.”
Everyone was fine with that. On the way to their rooms, some took extra sandwiches off the tray.
Zoey and Claire stayed, sipping the rest of their tea. While Zoey lightly moved around in her seat and drank her comforting beverage, Milo still wouldn’t budge. He’d just flap his wings at her discreet efforts to shoo him away. Giving up, she got up to go back to their room, hoping the big black bird wouldn’t take up too much room on the pillow.
“You coming?” she asked Claire.
“Yeah, Mom. Like I’d stay out here all by myself.”
They used the light from Claire’s cell phone to lead the way. Upon entering the large master bedroom, Milo flew off to a perch in the corner, where he worked at cleaning his feathers. There was newspaper laid out beneath the perch.
“Okaaay, that works well,” Zoey said with relief, straightening her hair over her shoulder.
The two got comfortable. Zoey had taken to bringing her own blanky for when it would mean spending the night somewhere. After she’d burrito’d herself well within it, a bird voice said, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” they responded.
“I hope that was Milo,” Claire said in the dark, from the other side of the big bed. “Because if it wasn’t, that kind of voice would be darn scary!”
“It was,” Zoey assured.
“How do you know, Mom?” Claire pulled the covers up to her neck.
“Because I speak raven!”
“Goodnight, Mom.” Claire said. She wasn’t a little girl anymore who’d believe such things. “I’m not a kid anymore, ya know. I’m twenty-five.”
“Cawww caw!”
“Thanks a lot, Mom.” Claire actually let out a chuckle at her mother’s silliness.
Zoey thought, Who said it doesn’t work?
THREE
Early the next morning, a shrill scream woke the Kanes with a start.
“B.B.?” Claire asked, having popped up in bed wearing a beauty mask. Not that she needed one in such deep, dark quarters. Habit.
Milo flapped his wings in distress. “Caw!” he responded loudly.
“The only way we’re going to find out is by going upstairs,” reasoned Zoey. So they both kicked the covers off and threw robes over their pajamas.
Upstairs, people stood inside of a room that was presumed to be the origin of the scream. B.B. hovered with Penny beside the bed.
“What’s going on?” Zoey pushed between the friends. There lay the doctor with a bloody knot on his forehead.
“Wake up,” Darla said, slapping his cheek and shaking his shoulders. When he wouldn’t, she simply started crying over her husband’s body. “My dear Gavier,” she sobbed, her chin wiggling.
BonBon stood at the foot of the bed, blinking in shock. The hand of what was assumed to be a dead man suddenly lifted and rubbed his head. Gavier pulled himself into a sitting position. “Somebody attacked me!”
“What’s the last thing you remember, Dr. Cons… Gavier?” asked Zoey.
“Well,” Gavier continued rubbing his head, and tried blinking away his bleary vision, “I remember BonBon coming in from her mother’s room next door, asking me if she could have a pony. It was late and I was asleep, so I said, ‘No, go back to bed’… and I was sleeping again, and then this.”
A heavy-looking owl figurine laid toppled over on a nightstand. Zoey looked over to BonBon whose eyes were big. “BonBon, this statue has your fingerprints on it.” Of course, Zoey couldn’t know that.
She yelled, “He made me do it! He wouldn’t give me a pony!” Then she started to cry, “Mommy!”
“We will need to have a talk now, BonBon,” said her father calmly.
Everyone stood rather frozen, not knowing what to say.
“Tie ’er up! Sell her to the gypsies!” Aloise raised a hand of pronouncement. “I have spoken. Court dismissed.”
“That’s good enough for me,” Zoey said. “Let’s go, Claire, and get ready for breakfast.” The two made their way through the crowd.
Once in the hall, Claire said, “Aloise has it right, Mom.” The two of them laughed.
Ghostly laughter lightly echoed throughout the mansion. It rather startled the duo.
“Who laughed?” Penny asked, following behind the Kanes.
Everyone chimed in: “Not me,” “Me either,” “None of us.”
“It has to be the ghost!” B.B. said, her face pale with terror.
Penny reached out dramatically. “Is anyone going to leave?” she asked.
Everyone stood locked-kneed, because they all remembered that it could cost them big money.
“Well then…” Penny said, her face dropping, “…see you for breakfast.”
Cousin Porsha closed in on Penny. “I’m not sensing Aunt Mavis’s spirit, so I’m quite sure it’s you with your tricks.” Her eyes narrowed. “They aren’t going to work on me. I’m going to get mine.” Then she dashed on ahead, and down the stairs.
*
To the flickering light of a bedside candelabra, the Kanes took their time getting dressed. Neither one of them tolerated the cold well. Zoey chose a ribbed sweater, and for added warmth slid on a leather vest lined in fuzzy, white wool. Claire wore a white zip-up fleece sweater layered over a long-sleeve shirt. A bit of her bangs poked up funny behind her ear-warmer headband, and so she rummaged through her make-up bag, already knowing she hadn’t packed any bobby pins.
“Dang it,” Claire said, frustrated. “Mom, do you have any bobby pins?”
“No, just clips and bands.” She stood beside her at the dresser, leaning close to the mirror for a make-up inspection.
By instinct, Claire pulled open one of Mavis’s little top drawers in search. It was surprisingly near-bare, not a junk drawer in the least. A small chest sat within, perfectly centered. She unlatched it and lifted the lid. Instead of beauty supplies, perfumes, or jewelry, she found what appeared to be mementos.
“Look at this, Mom.” Claire gently set it atop the dresser in reverence. “Some clues into the strange recluse’s life.”
The word clue was enticing enough. Add strange to it, and Zoey’s eyes darted in excited interest. “Oh, a little chest!”
Claire lifted a slightly bent black and white photo of a handsome young man. He had wavy dark hair and piercing eyes, and was dressed in a suit and tie. She turned it over. “Robert,” the cursive handwriting simply read.
“I’ll have to ask Penny who that’d be,” Zoey said. Her eyes shifted to a small, square piece of paper. She plucked it out from beneath a dried sprig of lavender. “Western Union Telegram,” she read aloud. “April 6, 1950. To Mr. Everett J. Mervel. I regret to inform you that I cannot take your daughter’s hand in marriage. An unexpected opportunity has arisen in Hollywood.”
“It’s signed off as Robert Fitsgerald.” Claire pointed out the obvious.
“Yes.” They had both instantly made the sad connection.
Zoey tucked the message back inside the chest, carefully placing the flowers beside it. Claire gazed a little longer at the classically good-looking man before putting his photo back and latching things closed.
Rain continued to beat against the old mansion and lightning lit the interior in flashes. After a good breakfast, made by Mr. Proctor, guests decided to go exploring with lanterns or flashlights. There was a treasure hunt, after all. And so off they went, sometimes crossing each other’s paths. It was often the same conversation repeated:
“Find anything?”
“No.”
“Us either.”
When the Kanes were alone again, Claire said quietly to her mom, “Have you noticed the ghoulishness of Penny’s family? I don’t want to be unkind, but I wonder if they’re into the dark arts, cannibalism, or mutilation. I’m sorry. I just get kind of a sick sense around them. I feel like something is unholy.”
“Did you bring cross necklaces or silver bullets?”
“No,” Claire said flatly.
“How ’bout the next best thing?” Zoey’s light brown eyes widened with curiosity. “What say we go sneak around their rooms? Maybe we can find out!”
FOUR
Up on the second floor, the mother and daughter sneakily entered the first room on the right. “I’m not so sure about this,” Claire said, afraid of getting caught. A pair of dirty cowboy boots sat at the foot of the green bed. “I told Spike he’d never ever find me in his room, and here I am.”
Zoey stepped deeper inside. “Stay at the doorway, then,” she cleverly proposed. “Stand watch for me. I’ll be quick.”
A large suitcase was on the edge of the bed. Zoey pressed the latches’ buttons, and they sprang up. Her heart beating hard, she lifted the lid. There were a number of neatly folded clothes, but what caught her attention the most was the machete, strapped to the inside of the lid. A bit of dried blood colored the tip. She pulled the side pouch open and discovered a couple more knives and a hone. She shut it and stepped away.
“What are you doing, Mom?” Claire asked from the doorway in a hushed tone. “Going through Spike’s things?”
“Of course. What else did you expect?” Zoey shrugged a shoulder, approaching the large mirrored dresser. Atop it was a tube of Bert’s Bees chapstick, cologne and a key ring, its chain decorated with a glass cow eye. All of this was beside an owl figurine, its eyes big and creepy, too.
“Ew,” Zoey uttered. “Too many eyes.” Creeped out, she trotted to Claire, and shut the door behind them. “I want to run away! But first, let’s see what’s in the other rooms.”
The next room turned out to be Theona’s, with two uniforms hanging inside of an oak
armoire. Stacked behind them was a row of wooden legs, one clad in a fishnet stocking. Lining her dresser was an assortment of colored crystals and candles.
When Zoey rejoined her daughter again, Claire asked, “Did you find any kidneys in there?”
“No, but she might be a witch.”
Auntie Al’s room was smaller with a twin-size bed. A small diary lay beside another creepy owl figurine, no lock. Zoey picked it up to snoop. That’s what you do if you fear you’re sleeping with potential fiends. And if you’re simply snoopy, that’s the perfect kind of rationalization to tell yourself.
Page 1, no date: “Today was a sad day. I’ve been thinking about Chester, my long lost Scottie dog. Harry got him for me for Valentine’s just a year ago, back when we lived in Fremont. I have no children. Chester was my child. Another irritation—I like to eat at buffets, but I can’t seem to find my keys to get there.”
Page 2, no date: “Today was a wonderfully splendid day! I found my dog Chester. Oh, he looks just like I remembered, except for the patch of brown by his tail. Get this—he was playing in the neighbor’s yard! I called him over to me and he wouldn’t come. Broke my heart, a moment. I went right over and picked him up and brought him home. He seems to fear me a bit. I don’t know why. Time apart, I guess. But it was less than a year ago that I lost him. I went to go tell Harry the great news, that Chester was back home, but Harry must be at work. I can’t find him. My nurse visited with me, just checking in to make sure I eat. I got to tell her the good news, at least. When I asked her when Harry was coming home, she gave me a strange, sympathetic look. I think she’s a little nuts. Actually, I know she’s nuts. She told me she was my daughter.”
Zoey felt a tear sting her eye.
Page 3, no date: “The neighbor came over, asking if I saw her dog. She said it was missing. I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about. She showed me a picture. The picture was of my dog. I shut the door on her lying face. When I went to my bedroom, guess who was there on my bed? Chester! What a surprise.”
Page 4, no date: “Today wasn’t a good day. In fact, it was a horrendous one! When I let my dog out front to pee, the neighbor came over and stole him! I called the police. The police came. They didn’t believe me. Now Chester isn’t just lost, but kidnapped, by my own neighbor!”
