by Zoey Kane
“During a little séance thing we did with Porsha, Mr. Proctor spoke from the dead.”
Was that fear in Mr. Werner’s eyes? “What? I mean… Well… Do you really believe in that Gypsy hippie mumbo-jumbo stuff? I don’t believe, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t give me the willies. If you know what I mean. I would stay far, far away from that kind of stuff.”
“I guess you can say,” Claire said, “we’ve been feeling a little desperate for answers.” They continued slowly walking along the circular hallway.
“Have you thought of any of the family as suspects?” His countenance took on a confidential appearance. His voice lowered. “What I mean to say is that I’ve dealt with the lowest scum of the earth. I used to be a defense attorney. Let’s just say, bad guys tend to be in the family. Maybe you should go snoop around them and ask some questions. I find it a little more than a coincidence that Mavis died just months after her drawing up a will.”
Zoey slowly nodded. “To tell you the truth, even though Mavis’s family is such a strange lot, in all of our searches and interviews, I haven’t found any reasonable evidence suggesting that anyone would do such a thing. In fact, the more I get to know them, the more the creep factor goes away, and I kinda like them.”
“Even Spike?” The lawyer gave a funny smile.
“Yeah, he reminds me of a regular old gruff grandpa,” Zoey said.
Claire narrowed her dark eyes in thought. “Come to think of it, Gavier can set me on edge, and he’s hard to read. But perhaps that’s because he’s a psychiatrist.”
Mr. Werner lifted his hands a little, gesturing that Gavier could be an option. “Gavier is possibly most suspect. He called my office many times harassing my secretary.”
“Harassing your secretary?” Zoey asked. “What do you mean?”
“Just that he kept wanting to find out what kind of legal advice I was giving Mavis. It was getting a little threatening. Eventually I told my secretary to not answer his calls when she’d see them ringing through.”
“What legal advice did he not like?” Claire said. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
“Oh, it was just that he didn’t think it was fair how the inheritance was going to be divvied up. You know, he didn’t like the idea of a treasure hunt. So he ended up questioning and threatening my office.”
“I remember him being upset about Theona and Mr. Proctor being in on the hunt,” Zoey said. “It seems absolutely fair to me that they could have a chance. Especially after working for Mavis for more than 40 years. Anyway,” Zoey added, “I still don’t see it in him to murder.”
Claire shook her head and looked at her mother knowingly. “Mother, it doesn’t mean he can’t be guilty. We come to find through experience that sometimes some of the most seemingly innocent people are bad guys.”
The lawyer laughed, pausing his steps. “Excuse me. That just gave me the absurd thought of Aloise being guilty of murder. I say, if you have a hunch, follow it. But I’m not the detective. You two are.”
The three stopped at the head of the stairway.
Mr. Werner said, “It shouldn’t be too long before lunch is ready. I think you’ll really like Jeb’s food. He’s a connoisseur of cooking. He was once even on that TV show Chopped.”
They descended to the second floor, thinking about food; even though breakfast wasn’t too long ago. When the three reached the second-floor landing, the sound of a door opening and closing stole attention. It was Gavier exiting Mr. Proctor’s room.
Mr. Werner slightly smiled and discreetly told the ladies, “Why don’t we wait for him?”
Gavier’s long legs soon approached. A look of disgust was across his face as he forced a hello to Mr. Werner.
“Hello,” Mr. Werner replied. “Surprised to see me here?”
Gavier started descending, shaking his head. “No, I can’t say that I am. Don’t you get ten percent of the treasure?” He flashed a disapproving scowl at him.
“Yes. Indeed I do,” the lawyer said unabashedly. They all quickened their steps to keep up with the doctor.
“Don’t you think that’s a little unfair, sir?” Gavier emphasized sir with contempt.
“I guess that would depend on what you think fair means? The old woman had no money to her name. She couldn’t even pay her workers anymore. Poor Mr. Proctor couldn’t get the necessary cancer treatments to keep him alive. With no money, and no idea as to where this supposed treasure is hiding, my taking ten percent of what could possibly be nothing is more than generous.” He turned to the Kanes. “Wouldn’t you say so?”
Zoey and Claire looked at each other like they didn’t want to get in the middle of this.
Gavier said, “Don’t act like that’s all you’re getting, sir.” He paused his steps, glaring at him; red in the face.
“Oh, my apologies.” Mr. Werner spoke with a condescending tone. “I also get ten percent of the sale of this trash heap.”
“Then I assume,” Gavier said, “you would be happy with the wrecking ball crashing down this historical family estate in no more than three days from today.”
“No, I have no problem with that at all, whatsoever. Never have, never will.” Mr. Werner’s jaw set, and he said, “Did you not know that this place is condemned? Considered a hazard? That in less than a year, if not today, it could all fall in on itself?”
Zoey and Claire flashed fearful expressions at the men. Seeing this, Mr. Werner backtracked. “We’ll be fine here for a few days. But my inspector told me himself that this place is in fact junk.”
“Well,” Gavier nearly spat in defiance, “don’t act like the five acres of property it sits on isn’t worth a mint. I’m done arguing with your contemptuous, unreasonable, unintelligible behavior. I don’t care if you did this pro bono. I don’t like you.” He took off quickly down the stairs, his long legs skipping steps as he went.
“Such an impossible person,” Mr. Werner said. “Sorry you had to witness such behavior from a grown man.” He paused with a look of revenge in his eyes. “I think he did do it. He murdered the old woman and has no regrets. Now it’s pure greed driving him. Keep a watch on him.”
“You go on ahead,” Zoey said. “My daughter and I have some business to attend to in snooping around his room.”
Mr. Werner smiled appreciatively. “Let me know if you find anything.”
THIRTEEN
Zoey and Claire entered Gavier’s room. They shut and locked the door behind them, out of instinct. The air smelled like stale peanuts, the evidence of which was found sprawling out of a small package with an airline’s logo stamped across it.
“That was definitely an uncomfortable confrontation,” Claire said.
“That was nothing in comparison to confrontations we’ve had during other murderous adventures. Let’s hurry up and get to snooping.”
Claire worked around the bed, lifting up its covers, pulling them back, searching beneath the pillows. Zoey tended to the small dresser in a corner. Inside the drawers were folded up underwear and socks, enough for a whole month.
An empty suitcase leaned against a corner. Claire checked the baggage claim sticker that still dangled from its handle. “He came from Florida.” She found a ticket in a side pocket. “It was one way.”
Zoey said, “Looks like he wasn’t planning on going back any time soon then. He has enough underwear in these drawers to clothe an army. Why do you think that is?”
Claire slid the ticket back into its pocket and stepped over to her mother at the dresser. “He obviously thought that business would take longer than just five days here.”
“Longer than a month,” Zoey presumed.
Claire went over to the end table, where the peanuts were sprawled around a large owl figurine. Its red eyes stared at her ominously. She popped a nut into her mouth and said, “Yep. Stale.”
“How long has he been in town?” Zoey asked.
“Oh, I didn’t think to look at the arrival date,” Claire said.
Zoey w
alked over to the suitcase to find out for herself. “He’s been here in town for two weeks already. That is suspicious. Didn’t Penny say she was just notified of Mavis’s disappearance and invited up here last week?”
“Yes. Yes indeed.”
Claire drew open the drawer to the end table. What was in it made her gasp. “Mother, Gavier has a pistol.”
“Really?” She slipped some black dress socks over her hands and said to herself, “At least these smell like Tide.” She cringed at the thought of dirty socks. She went straight over to the end table and, carefully grabbing the gun by the handle, lifted it up. She checked for bullets. “The chamber is empty, at least.”
“That could mean a very bad thing for Mavis,” Claire reminded her.
Setting the gun back in its drawer, Zoey said, “Very true.” She sighed. “For now, let’s not be too hasty. Mr. Werner may very well be on to something. In the meantime, let’s still keep a somewhat open mind.” She snapped the socks off her hands and folded them up perfectly, before putting them back inside their drawer.
“Can you imagine,” Claire said, “a man who wouldn’t spank his daughter could be capable of killing?”
“If so, I’d say our psychiatrist needs a psychiatrist.” Zoey gave an amused smirk as she shut the drawer and lifted a little clock off the dresser. “It’s time to go down for lunch.”
*
Downstairs, the scent of hamburgers filled the air. The Kanes were ready for an All-American lunch served by the handsome new chef, Jeb. Some rejuvenation and relaxing was in order. The thought that they could be sharing the mansion with the murderer was weighing heavily on their minds.
This time, people sat in separate sections of the great room. Zoey and Claire chose to sit at the dining room table. The Constipaleons were in the sitting area by the fireplace. Porsha took to eating at the piano. Spike sat at the bottom steps of the stairs, hungrily chomping his food. Aloise ate around the kitchen, telling old stories over and over to whoever’s ear she could catch.
Desperation was in the air. Time was running out. Three days, including today, and it would all be done. Penny exited the kitchen with B.B. Instead of taking a seat with the Kanes, they headed upstairs together with their meals.
Claire took a bite of potato salad. It was just the way she liked it, with mustard, pickles, and eggs. Zoey bit into her thick and juicy burger, seasoned with a variety of savory spices.
From the Constipaleon’s corner, came the sounds of terse, angry language. Zoey figured that the husband-and-wife were most likely ranting about the lawyer. Mr. Werner exited the kitchen, carrying two full plates and excused himself to upstairs, without a word said.
While everyone’s stomachs were quickly filling, Jeb came out of the kitchen and checked to see if anybody wanted seconds. Spike was the only one to accept the offer, as he rubbed his belly and hurried over with his plate for more.
“Mother,” Claire whispered. “What do we do now? Now that we suspect Gavier. Do we approach him? Do we tell them what we found?”
“Not yet,” Zoey said, biting into her burger and peering over it at their first great suspect. “Enjoy the rest of your meal. Everything will play out sooner than later.”
The doorbell chimed its funeral toll for the second time that day. The Kanes were now used to answering the door. Leaving their plates at the table, they hurried over. There was a hard knock just before Claire whipped it open.
Standing there were two officers, one old and lanky and the other young and tubby. “Hello, ma’am,” the lanky one said. “We received a call from a concerned neighbor—”
“Let me guess.” Zoey placed a hand on her hip. “A Miss Valery Dabberline. President of Sunnyside View’s HOA.”
“We don’t know, ma’am. Dispatch gets called, and they just tell us where to go.”
The storm had calmed down to just a drizzle. Gray clouds gave way to white puffy ones. The air was crisp. Across the street stood a mad woman with crossed arms over her bosoms. It was Valery.
Mr. Werner came up behind the Kanes. “Hi, officers, is there a problem?”
“Yes, this place is condemned,” the older, taller one said. “Nobody’s supposed to be here. All guests have to leave.”
FOURTEEN
“Oh,” Mr. Werner responded with a surprised look in his eyes. “I didn’t see a notice posted.”
The short, tubby officer peeled tape off the door. He held it up. “Here’s the evidence that it was. Somebody ripped it off. That is against the law. You can be prosecuted for that.”
“I am the lawyer over the estate,” Mr. Werner said hotly. “When I arrived, the sign was already missing. You can’t threaten me. I know the law. It’s my job.”
The officers looked at each other. The short one adjusted his belt beneath his bulging tummy. The tall one spoke again. “Take this as your official notice from the sheriff’s department. This place is condemned. Everybody needs to get out. We’re going to search the home to make sure no one is here. And we’ll need a record of everyone’s driver’s licenses, so we know you’ve been warned. No coming back here, unless you’d like some jail time.”
Mr. Werner bit his lip with frustration. “Okay. But know that an inspector that I hired found severe issues on the third floor with a particular room that’s been taped off. None of us would dare go in there. Unless you want to fall through the floor to your deaths, avoid it.”
“Thanks for your concern,” the older officer said with a hint of sarcasm. “Now out.”
“May we first gather our things, officers?” Zoey asked. A few others, hearing the commotion, gathered together at the door. Their faces drooped with disappointment.
“Yes, you all have five minutes to grab whatever is yours and get out.” The same officer looked at his watch, pressed a button that beeped, and said, “Time starts now.”
There were murmurings and grumblings as most everyone headed for the stairs. Spike stated, “Mavis got more senile as she aged. There probably isn’t any treasure anyway.”
“Yeah, I don’t really believe in it anymore either.” Porsha hurried up the stairs with attitude.
Penny and B.B. caught up with Zoey and Claire, who were heading for their downstairs bedroom. Penny shook her head. “I’m sorry this happened,” she said. “Hurry. Grab your things and keep your phones close by, in case I need to call you on the way out of town.”
The Kanes agreed. Everyone diverged to their own bedrooms, where they hurried to pack. The two cops entered the house, beaming their flashlights around the great room. Jeb came out of the kitchen, surprised, a couple red smears staining his kitchen whites.
“The show’s over,” the tubby officer said. “Pack up and get out. The place is condemned.”
“I just set everything up. I have a grill… and… and… a bunch of other stuff.”
“Better hurry up, pretty boy. You’ve got ten minutes tops.”
“Aw, man.” Jeb turned right back around and re-entered the kitchen.
The officers slowly walked around the bottom story, looks of fearful awe across their faces. Propped against the couch sat the picture of Mavis from her youth. The tubby officer lit it with his flashlight. “Hey, look at this. You think it’s the crazy old lady who used to live here?”
His partner came over to take a look. Now there were two lights shining on the sad old portrait. “I heard she never came out of the house,” he said.
“I heard she was a witch,” the other said. “Some voodoo stuff. Put hexes on neighbors.”
They chuckled in amusement. “Yeah, I heard all that.”
Tubby added, “I heard even more. Her father was a nutcase.”
“He was a nutcase.” The older man’s gray eyes became serious. “I was just a kid at the time, but my family knew him from around town. I once saw him yelling at a young man to get off the property and never come back. What followed, I’ll never forget…”
Flashback:
Two 7-year-old boys played in the ditch that
ran along what was a lonely road, except for the huge Victorian Gothic mansion. Wearing a baseball cap and freckles, one held out a small hand, showing off a crawdad.
“You finally caught one, Garrett!” his friend said, who carried a bucket with a few of the critters crawling over each other.
“Yeah. It’s neat.” Garrett gently placed his inside the bucket. Spotting another little fella in the water, he splashed through the muddy ditch water that went up to his knees. “There’s another one!”
The sun was starting to set. It was dusk. The air took on a chill. Garrett’s friend shifted his eyes from the horizon to his waiting bicycle, lying in the dirt. “We better go,” he said. “My ma’s gonna get really mad at me if I don’t get home before it’s dark.”
Garrett whined, “I’ve only caught one so far. There’s another one over there. I wanna get at least two more.”
His friend said, “Well, I’ve gotta go.” He climbed out of the ditch, slipped back on his tennis shoes, and set the bucket in his bike’s basket. “You coming?”
Garrett shook his head. “No, I’m not done yet.”
“Okay. See you later, alligator.” His friend pedaled onto the narrow road called Shadyside Street.
Garrett splashed through more ditch water, and then slowly crept toward a crawdad crawling along the mud. Just as he was about to snatch it up, something stole his attention. Yelling.
Crawling up the side of the ditch, Garrett’s heart beat hard in curiosity. He peered across the mansion’s grassy front yard of neatly trimmed willows.
“I said to stay away!” a bald man snarled at a much younger man with dark wavy hair.
“But, sir, I can’t stay away. I love her. Please,” said the shaky voice in return.
The older man shook his head, waving a finger in anger. “Bobby, she’s not here right now! It was a mistake—my approving you marrying her—anyway. You have nothing to offer. You’re as worthless as a mite. You have no skills for the real world. All you do is play your piano and have silly aspirations. It’s going nowhere. You’re going nowhere.”
