It Started With A House: Lizzie. Book 1 (The Westport Mysteries)

by Beth Prentice

  IT STARTED

  WITH

  A

  HOUSE

  By Beth Prentice

  Text copyright Ó 2012 Beth Prentice

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Chapter1

  Chapter2

  Chapter3

  Chapter4

  Chapter5

  Chapter6

  Chapter7

  Chapter8

  Chapter9

  Chapter10

  Chapter11

  Chapter12

  Chapter13

  Chapter14

  Chapter15

  Chapter16

  Chapter17

  Chapter18

  Chapter19

  Chapter20

  Chapter21

  Chapter22

  Chapter23

  Chapter24

  Chapter25

  Chapter26

  Chapter27

  Chapter28

  Chapter29

  Chapter30

  Chapter31

  Chapter One

  It’s probably important that I start this story by telling you who I am. My name is Lizzie Fuller and I’m the tallest female member of my family, measuring in at 5 foot 2 inches. I’m average weight with a small waist and hips. Unfortunately, I was at the front of the queue when God handed out breasts. I got my brown eyes and long, dark, curly hair from my Mum’s side of the family. I also have dimples. I don’t know who I inherited those from. Grandma Mabel is a bit of a wild card, so we don’t really know what’s hidden in the family gene pool. As far as intelligence goes, I’m not stupid but I’m not a genius either. Today I’m debating that.

  I’m standing here trying to turn the sticky lock preventing me from opening my new front door. Well, new is a stretch of the imagination. It’s new to me, so I guess it’s okay for me to say that. About a month ago, I had a mid-life crisis and realized that, at the age of thirty one, I didn’t own anything of significance. Sure, I own my car and a collection of high-end fragrances, but if I was to take an unscheduled trip to the Pearly Gates, I had nothing that stated this is who I am. True to form, I rushed out the very next day and bought a house. No time like the present, hey?

  Now I’m wondering if I shouldn’t have had an affair like every other sane member of society having a mid-life crisis. It would have been much easier…and cheaper.

  “Hurry up. It’s freezing out here,” complained my sister Molly. Molly had come along today to help me move but I was about to ask her what her definition of ‘help’ was. So far, I’d yet to see it.

  “It’s stuck,” I grumbled, rattling the door in the hope that it would miraculously unlock itself. Giving up, I stood back and looked for another way in. “Let’s go round the back and see if this key fits that door.”

  “Alright. But only because walking may warm me up a bit.”

  “You know if you put some more clothes on you may not be so cold,” I said, looking at her. Her skintight jumper may look warm but accompanied by a mini skirt and high-heeled boots, I don’t think it offered much warmth. It would be interesting when we got inside and started the cleaning. From memory, scientists from the Department of Health would have a field day in there. Never mind, I’ll leave that little surprise for later.

  Walking through the knee length grass, I wondered what the hell possessed me to buy the very first house I saw—maybe because it pulled on my heartstrings. The house is a tiny, detached two bedroomed Victorian. Probably the best way to describe it is a dilapidated cross between a gingerbread house and the house of horrors. It’s a money pit. I know that. But the only other registered bidder at the auction wanted to knock it down and I couldn’t let that happen. I get really sentimental about things like that. All I saw was the memories the house would hold. I thought about all the families that had grown under the roof, while it protected them from the outside world. It would have witnessed love and anger and every emotion in between. No, now was the time to protect it. It needed to be restored to its former glory. But why I thought I had the skills necessary to do such a thing is beyond me.

  “Why didn’t you buy one of those new apartments they’ve just finished overlooking the river? They’re really nice and you never would have to mow any grass,” complained Molly, looking around the overgrown yard.

  To be honest, I was wondering the same thing myself.

  Pushing my hands deep into my pockets for warmth, we stepped up onto the back porch. It’s hard to believe the day started out so beautifully. The sun was shining and not a cloud in the sky. True, it was autumn and a hot day wasn’t expected, but when the wind picked up and the clouds rolled in, we knew that winter wasn’t far away.

  Pulling out the key, I tried it in the lock. I heard the clunk as I turned it. My first attempt to push the door open was unsuccessful, but with the use of my hip and a bit of force, we finally made it inside. Finding the light switch, I flicked it on and waited until the dim 60-watt globe illuminated the room. I looked around and bit my lip. The excitement I’d felt when I awoke this morning was fading by the second. I surveyed the room, biting down on my disappointment. Molly followed me in. As she stomped her feet to warm herself up, I watched the dust rise and nearly consume her.

  “Bloody hell,” she coughed, waving her hand in front of her.

  The smell of a stale, damp room hit me. I looked around at the dirty old kitchen cabinets and scarred timber flooring, and felt a lump form in the back of my throat.

  “Leave that door open will you, Molly and for goodness sake stand still.”

  Silently, we walked through the house. I don’t think either of us could find the right words to say. We were walking back down the stairs from the attic when Molly finally broke the silence.

  “Who the hell thought this wallpaper was a good idea?”

  I knew what she meant. I too was thinking the same thing. With huge purple flowers and green vines making large swirly patterns, I wondered at what point someone thought it looked nice. Especially considering they’d decorated the whole bloody house in it.

  It’s funny, but I don’t remember seeing wallpaper the day that I bought the house. To be honest, I don’t remember the house looking this bad at all. That day, all I could think about was how it would look when it was revamped.

  The house had a really simple floor plan. There was a main hallway with the staircase off the front door. To the right of the stairs was the lounge room and to the left was the kitchen. It’s the same on the second floor, only to the right was my bedroom and to the left was the bathroom. The second set of stairs lead to the attic, which was home to a second bedroom. The amount of work needed before this house was even livable made me feel a bit queasy. The butterflies in my stomach were going crazy, telling me to run, but what the hell did they know? This was going to be fun, right?

  “It’s going to be great. A bit of a cleanup and you won’t recognize it,” I said, not daring to look Molly in the eye.

  “A bulldozer would be better. And what is that smell?”

  “Rodents, I think.” I felt my nose twitch and tears threaten an appearance. I hated rats. I mean, really hated them. Like phobia-hated them.

  “Don’t worry, Lizzie,” said Molly. Sensing I was about to cry, she placed a hand on my shoulder. “The cat should help with that.”

  “What cat?” I looked at her, surprised. “I don’t have a cat.”

  “Well, maybe he came with the house. He was sitting on the window seat in the lounge when we walked in and looked quite comfortable, if I may say so,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Didn’t you see it
?”

  “No. But there are a lot of things about this house I don’t remember seeing. Maybe I need glasses or something,” I said, feeling a weight on my chest. “How could I be this stupid, Molly?” I asked, feeling the sting of tears.

  Molly pulled me into a big sister hug. “You can come and stay with me if you like.”

  “Thanks, but no. I got myself into this so I have to see it through,” I said sniffing. I took a minute to enjoy the warm, safe feeling of Molly’s hug before I stepped back and pulled myself together. Feeling sorry for myself was not going to improve this situation. “Now, where was this cat?”

  I followed Molly back to the lounge, and there, sitting on the window seat, was a particularly large, fluffy ginger cat. Damn, she was right.

  “But I don’t want to own a cat,” I whined, thinking I have trouble looking after myself. I should never be allowed to own an animal. In fact, there should be some sort of law against it. You see, I did fish-sit for my mum once when she went on holiday and—between you and I—the results were disastrous. This cat was a real animal.

  “I don’t think you have much choice.”

  Ok, the cat did look quite at home sitting there, leg in the air, licking his privates. It stopped mid-lick, tongue sticking to its fur and gave us the once over. Deciding we were of no interest to it, it resumed what it was doing.

  “I wish I could do that,” said Molly, a hint of jealousy in her voice.

  “What? Lick your own privates?” Gee, there’s an awful lot I didn’t know about my sister.

  “No! Get my leg that high. Can you imagine what you could achieve if you were that flexible?” She looked at me and grinned.

  “Molly, you’re disgusting,” I said, trying my hardest to hide my smile. Secretly, I was relieved my sister wasn’t some sort of weirdo—just some sort of sexual deviant. “Do you think it just wants food and then it’ll disappear again?” I asked, looking back at the cat. I was hoping it just had the wrong house.

  “It’s worth a try.”

  “There’s enough bloody rodents around here it could have a smorgasbord.” Maybe a cat wouldn’t be a bad idea. This last thought was actually quite encouraging. I mean, a cat isn’t like a dog, is it? You can forget to feed a cat and it will find food itself, won’t it?

  “I think you should go and get it some real cat food. It looks far too lazy to actually catch anything.”

  Bugger.

  * * * *

  We spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning. Not that you could really tell where we’d been. The solicitor who’d handled the sale of the house told me it was empty for about six months and prior to that, an elderly lady had lived there. I guess that explains the three inches of dust on every surface.

  Molly helped a little bit in the end, but not without complaints. By the time my dad arrived with the truck full of my belongings, we had dusted and vacuumed every inch downstairs. Now all I had to do was clean the bedroom and bathroom before I could go to bed tonight.

  “Why don’t you sleep at my place until you get this place straight?” offered Molly.

  “Thanks, but I’ll see how I go. It’s going to take forever to renovate this place, so I’ll have to get used it at some point.”

  “Yeah well, the offer stands. Even if it’s midnight, just get in your car and head over.”

  I smiled. On the surface Molly may look shallow and self-obsessed but it was all an act. On the inside she was a big softy.

  After Molly and Dad left, I made a quick trip to the local grocery store, which meant I could now feed not only myself, but also my squatter. I had a feeling Cat belonged with the house and that even after feeding him the best Kitty Kat food money could buy, he was not going anywhere. I’d also purchased every mouse and rattrap the store had in stock because my faith in Cat was pretty low. There was no way I wanted any of those little rodents crawling over me in my sleep. Hopefully one look at my arsenal and word would get around the rodent community for them to take a hike.

  Feeling tired and irritable I drove back to my new home. Actually, I’m really not sure if I could call it home yet, it all felt so alien to me. I still wasn’t sure if I made the right decision to buy this place and right now all I felt like doing was crying. I was exhausted, everything I owned was in boxes and there was no way I was unpacking them until I knew all furry creatures had moved on. Most of the house was still filthy, I was responsible for a cat and now the sun was setting, I was starting to feel Molly was right. I was pretty creeped out.

  As I drove up to the house it just looked dark, scary and lonely. Parking in my tiny driveway, I contemplated spending the night in my car. I could lock the doors and not have to face going back inside the house until the morning when it was bright and sunny again. I could always sleep at Mum and Dad’s but then I would have to explain I was too afraid to walk into my own house. God, I could just hear Mum saying, “I told you not to buy it,” in that tone she gets when she knows she’s right. Or I could go to Molly’s but then she would tell Mum I’d spent the night there and I would still have to listen to her saying “I told you so”. No, staying here tonight was my only option. I just have to stop being stupid and get inside. There was nothing in there that could hurt me. I had personally checked every cupboard for dead bodies and scary creatures earlier in the day. Checking again would probably put my mind at ease, but there was no freaking way I was going to check in the dark!

  Entering the house, I turned on every light in every room, all except the attic which—as that particular light switch was at the top of the stairs—was way too creepy for me to even think about. I stood outside my bedroom door and looked towards the darkened staircase, terrified. I probably should have ventured up there and turned it on. Peace of mind is a powerful thing. Oh well, I’ll just lock the door, jump into bed and pull the covers over my head. That would work just as well.

  Chapter Two

  I’d been dreaming. Someone was standing over me, watching me while I slept. It wasn’t a reassuring-angel-watching-you kind of dream. It was a scary, some-lunatic-wants-to-kill-you kind of dream.

  I woke with a start.

  The hair on my arms and back of my neck stood on end as I sat up and had a good look around. Everything was just the way I’d left it. Everything except the bedroom door. It was wide open, swinging on its hinge. I knew I’d locked it before I got into bed. So why was it open now?

  I felt fear run through me, ending its journey in my stomach, where it swirled around, mixed with anxiety, and left me feeling sick. I looked out onto the darkness beyond the hallway. I knew I’d left every light in the house burning.

  Thankfully my bedroom light was still on, so I reached for my phone and pulled back the covers. My toes curling into the dirty carpet, I grabbed my handbag and quickly looked through it for a weapon. I came up with a can of deodorant. Oh well, it’s the best I was going to get right now. I shook the can and walked towards the door, my heart pounding against my chest. What I really wanted to do was run. Run through the door, down the stairs, out to my car and drive as far from here as I could get. But I guess I should grow a set and deal with whatever opened that door. The closer I crept, the harder my heart pounded.

  With the dream still lingering, I peeked into the hallway. It was dark except for the light coming up the stairs. The staircase leading up to the attic looked darker than ever. I really wished I’d turned the light on up there before going to bed.

  I stood very still, held my breath and strained to listen for any unfamiliar noise. Unfortunately—as this was my first night in this old house—every noise was unfamiliar.

  I couldn’t see anything or anyone that shouldn’t be there, so I relaxed just a little bit. Not too much though. I still needed to walk down the stairs to check the kitchen and lounge. Shit, I hated this.

  Hearing the wind rattling the old windows, I wondered again why I hadn’t bought a brand new house.

  The stairs creaked under my weight, alerting any intruder I was on my way. I al
so forgot one of the treads was loose and nearly sped up my descent as it slipped when I trod on it. Grabbing the railing I regained my balance, but not before a small scream escaped my lips. Well, I guess I could cross Spy off my ideal career list.

  “Hello! Is anybody there?” I yelled, giving up on the creeping bit. I’m not really sure what I expected to get back. I didn’t really think any intruder would jump out yelling “surprise!” but I’d never been in this situation before, so who knew?

  Waiting for what felt like an eternity, the only response I got was the sound of the wind. I continued making my way to the ground floor. Reaching the bottom stair I paused. I didn’t know which way to turn. Should I check the kitchen or the lounge first? I could see the lock on the front door was firmly in place, so that was comforting, at least. I thought I should check the kitchen first. It contained the only other exit.

  I pushed myself as close to the wall as possible and slowly peered around the corner. The light, thankfully, was blazing. Well, blazing was a bit of an over-statement, but it did give me enough light to see the room was empty and the back door was closed. I walked over quickly to check the lock.

  I let out a breath knowing it was secure. Now all I had to do was check all the windows and all the other rooms and I could go back to bed and back to sleep.

  Taking a deep breath, I entered the lounge. The only thing I found there was Cat snoring loudly on the couch. He didn’t seem upset by anything so maybe my door was only open because the house was old. Timber moved didn’t it?

  Picking up Cat, I walked back into the hall and checked the switch for the upstairs light. No matter how many times I flicked it, it didn’t work. I guess the bulb had blown.

  My heart rated decreased.

  Continuing my rounds of the house I felt the loneliness creep in and threaten to smother me. Earlier in the day I thought it was just because the house was unfamiliar but now I feel like the house is watching me, letting me feel its sadness. I hugged Cat closer to me as the lump sat in my throat and made my way back to bed, once again shutting and locking the door behind me.