by Patricia Fry
“How inventive of you, Arthur,” Rochelle said.
“Hey, where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he said, chuckling. “Anyway, Suzette and I are more civilized now. We use the original basement door, which Rupert helped us find concealed in one of the laundry rooms.”
“Concealed?” Michael questioned.
“Yeah, they’d nailed it shut and built a broom closet over it,” he explained. Rupert had remembered where the original door was and we use it now, mostly.”
Rochelle asked, “You don’t mind staying down here, Arthur, after… ?”
“No,” he said as he opened the door. He turned toward the others. “Watch your step, these stairs are kinda steep.”
Once inside, he turned to Rochelle. “I feel a sort of power over this place now. I’m here because I want to be. It’s a choice.” He confessed, “I do sometimes wake up in the night feeling trapped. But soon realize I’m free and safe. I just laugh at my ridiculous fear and go back to sleep.”
“You’re an amazing young man, Arthur, you know it?” Rochelle said, a wide smile on her pretty face.
“Thanks, coach,” he said, winking, as he led the group into his expansive quarters.
“So this is the basement?” Peter asked.
“Yeah, as one reporter put it, ‘the belly of the mansion.’” He continued, “This is my living room.” He pointed. “My game and workout room are in there and the bedrooms are down that way. Come on, look around.”
“No kitchen?” Savannah asked.
“No, the food was brought in by Ruthie or Mother. We have a microwave, so we could heat up cocoa and things like that,” he explained.
Savannah frowned. “And the kitchen staff didn’t get suspicious when they’d see food leaving the kitchen?”
“I don’t know; I guess not,” Arthur said with a shrug as they moved slowly from room to room. “This was Ruthie’s room. Suzette is staying in here this week.”
“It’s the smallest room down here, isn’t it?” Peter said, laughing. “Even your bathrooms are larger.”
“Yeah,” Arthur said, “it was bigger, but something in here was bothering Ruthie, so she asked my mother to block off that section of the room. Come out in the hall and you can see how big it used to be.”
“Wow, they did cut it down by more than half, didn’t they?” Michael said.
“Yeah, she liked it better after they did that. There’s a bathroom at the end of this hallway, but she wouldn’t use it.” Arthur shook his head. “There’s just an odd energy here… like the Bermuda Triangle or something...that seemed to mess with Ruthie’s mind.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it, but it really upset her.”
Suddenly Rochelle moaned. Her knees buckled.
“What’s wrong,” Peter asked, helping to steady her.
“I don’t know. I was overcome there for a moment.” She looked up and down the hallway and shook her head as if trying to clear it. “Arthur, do you know what this area was used for before you were moved down here?”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t recall ever being here until Mother brought me here after I left the burn center. Why?”
“I sense something—probably the same thing Ruth felt.” She frowned. “Oh, my gosh, it’s… dark.” She shivered and put her arms around herself. “Peter, I can’t stay here. It’s too strong.” She looked around at the others. “We should all leave.”
“Sure,” Peter said, taking her arm and leading her back to Arthur’s living room.
Before the others could follow, Michael pointed. “What’s wrong with Rags?”
Savannah and Arthur glanced down and noticed the cat was lying on his stomach in the hallway, staring at the far wall. He cocked his head from side to side as if listening intently. When Koko tried to engage him in play, Rags jumped to his feet and took a few steps toward the wall, slowly, staring straight ahead.
Koko, in the meantime, sat in place, watching Rags with interest.
Suddenly, Rags stopped, let out a yowl and retreated. He walked around Savannah, the leash encircling her ankles, and sat down next to her.
“Does he hear something? Look at how he’s moving his ears,” she said.
Michael took the leash and untangled it from her legs. “I don’t know,” he said. “But maybe Rochelle’s right; we should get out of here.”
When the others joined Rochelle and Peter in Arthur’s basement living room, they found Rochelle sitting on the sofa, her head in her hands.
Savannah eased down next to her. “Gosh, something really affected you, didn’t it? Can you talk about it?”
She shook her head and said, “Peter, I’d like to go back upstairs, if you don’t mind.” When she noticed the others were following her and Peter toward the stairway, she said, “I’m sorry. I can’t explain it. I’m just sensitive to… well, I’m not sure what I encountered in there, but it… I really must leave,” she said, rushing up the stairs and through the doorway.
Savannah hurried after her. “Rochelle, are you okay?”
“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I think it has left me. Whew, it was strong. I can see why Ruth would not want to live with it.” She faced her friend and spoke sternly, “Savannah, you must keep your distance and don’t take the baby in there, whatever you do.”
****
“Peter and Rochelle couldn’t stay for dinner?” Ruth asked as the usual eight were being seated at the dining room table later that evening.
“It would have been nice,” Savannah said, “but they had to get back. They’d like to bring Miriam out here for a session, so we’ll see them soon.”
Ruth nodded. She then turned to Arthur. “So what were in the papers you dug up, Artie?”
He rolled his eyes in Michael’s direction. “We’re still not sure what they mean.”
“Just a bunch of personal papers, such as those you’d find in someone’s home and wallet—or safe deposit box,” Michael explained.
“Who do they belong to?” Laura asked.
Arthur winced. “It appears to be about half-dozen different people.”
“Seven. Wasn’t it seven?” Michael corrected.
Arthur nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right. Driver licenses, social security cards, a will, insurance papers, state welfare paperwork, a hospital bill… things like that.”
“For men? Women? What ages?” Gail asked.
“Different ages,” Michael said. “Men and one woman.”
Laura looked from Michael to Arthur. “So who were they?”
“I don’t know; what were the names, Arthur?” Michael asked. “I remember Marshall, Gibbs… ”
“Simpson,” Suzette said, “my maternal grandparents’ name. Oh yes, and Cobos.”
Savannah was quiet for a moment then said, “I wonder what information we could find about this place at the library and the museum. I mean, what went on here? What kind of people lived here before the Peytons?”
“Good idea,” Suzette said. “And maybe we could discover something about the people those papers belong to.” She leaned forward. “Oh, there were some pay stubs. We should be able to find out something about that man through his former employer.”
“If the company still exists,” Savannah remarked.
Suzette nodded, then turned to Arthur. “Wanna go to the library?”
“Yeah, but I told Ruthie I’d help at the sale tomorrow—it’s the weekend and they expect a lot of people. Hey, why don’t you and Savannah go?”
The two women looked at each other. “Sure. Sounds fun,” Savannah said. “Michael could you watch… ”
He shook his head. “Can’t entertain Lily tomorrow; it’s conference day, remember? Rags and I have to work.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, we can take her with us.”
“Sure, I can help with her. She’s such a good baby,” Suzette said.
“Uh-oh,” Savannah said. “Michael will have the car.”
“Not a problem,” Arthur said. “We have cars here�
�take your pick.”
Savannah’s eyes widened. “A low, sleek sports car would be nice. Or a classy town car.” She tilted her head and asked, “Arthur, are you driving now?”
He nodded. “Got my license last week. How about that?”
“Well, congratulations,” she said. “What car do you drive?”
“A Jeep SUV, mostly. Want to take it tomorrow?”
“Sure. That’s perfect. Thanks.”
****
“You know your way around the city pretty well,” Suzette said as she rode with Savannah toward the library.
“Not really. But we have been to this library before.” Savannah glanced at Suzette. “… to do research on the mansion, actually.”
“It is an interesting place, with many stories, it seems.”
“Evidently so,” Savannah agreed. She spoke more quietly when she said, “I’d sure like to know what it was that freaked Rochelle out last night, wouldn’t you?”
Suzette nodded. “Yes, I wonder what that was all about. I’ve never known anyone who was… sensitive like that—you know, to… perhaps, otherworldly vibes or whatever. Have you?”
“My friend Iris is into woo-woo stuff, but I don’t know if she is… as you said… a ‘sensitive’ like Rochelle is.” She then asked, “Hey, Suzette, did you call that company we have the paystubs for?”
Suzette sat forward in the seat. “Yes!” she exclaimed. “After getting quite a runaround, I talked to a long-time employee of Carberry Products and she actually remembers a young man named Jeffry Gibbs who worked there briefly in the mid 1970s. She said she had a date with him, but he never showed up. By then, he had quit to take another more lucrative job in the out-of-doors—as a gardener at a private home. She said they dated a few times after he left the company. But this one night, she waited for him at their usual meeting place and he didn’t’ show up. She tried to call, and later went to his apartment to see if he was okay. His landlord said he left one day and didn’t come back. She never heard from him again.”
Savannah drove quietly for a moment, then said, “Well, I guess he could have just been ditching her… didn’t have good dating manners.”
“Yeah, but then why did his personal papers show up in that pit at the mansion?” Suzette asked. She shook her head. “Something’s just not right. It doesn’t make sense.”
As Savannah pulled the car into the library parking lot, she said, “Gosh, we have a lot of questions, don’t we? I hope we can discover at least some of the answers here today.”
Suzette nodded. “Hey, we’re lucky that rain stopped. It sure poured last night, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, Michael and Arthur went out and covered the pit with a tarp. They didn’t want water running in.”
“Why? Do they think there are more documents in there?”
I don’t know,” Savannah said as she placed the baby in the stroller. She chuckled. “They seem to have some sort of fixation with that hole out there, don’t they?”
The two women, the baby in tow, found a suitable corner table inside the spacious library where they could spread out documents related to the mansion and some of its residents. While Suzette viewed old newspapers on microfilm, Savannah skimmed through books, articles, and essays in the local history section. They had quite a pile of photocopies and notes by the time Lily woke up, two hours later. Lifting her from the stroller, Savannah said, “She needs to be changed… probably wants to stretch her legs. Shall we take her out to the lobby? Then maybe we can walk somewhere and get a bite to eat. If she’ll allow us, we can come back for another hour or so.”
Suzette pondered the suggestion. “Sounds good, only… ”
“Only what?”
“Well, I’m onto some interesting stuff, actually.” She looked up at Savannah. “Hey, would you mind if I stay for a while? I kinda hate to lose my place.”
Savannah nodded. “Sure, if you want. I’ll bring you a sandwich.”
“Yes, do that. I can sit in the lobby and eat while you do more research.”
“What are you working on, anyway?” Savannah asked.
“It appears that one former madam of the mansion was a seer.”
“A what?” Savannah asked, pulling Lily back from the table, where she had been reaching for a pen.
“Well, she billed herself as a healer and she did some sort of readings at the mansion. Look, she ran ads in the newspapers in the seventies and early eighties.”
“No kidding?” Savannah tilted her head. “Hey, the seventies and eighties… that’s about the time Miriam lived there. That must have been her grandmother. What was her name?”
“Uh… Madam Randall.”
“Yes, that’s Miriam’s grandmother. A seer, huh?” She peered across the table at Suzette. “You found the juicy stuff. So did she invite people in for séances and things like that?”
“I think so.” Suzette thumbed through the copies she’d made and read, “‘Healing, channeling, speak to the dead.’ So yeah, séances. Seems like they were group activities.”
“What’s channeling?” Savannah asked.
Suzette chuckled. “I’m not sure. I think it’s where someone talks to people on the other side.”
“Isn’t that what they do at a séance?” Savannah asked.
Suzette shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe Rochelle can clue us in as to the terminology.” She then explained, “Let’s see, she refers to herself as a healer of spiritual health. And the ads say, ‘Communicate with your deceased loved ones.’”
Savannah raised her eyebrows. “Interesting. That place seems to have been through the gamut.” She spoke more softly now, “I read that the original owners came from England and he made his money from inventions related to farming. Later on, one of his sons or grandsons got involved with the mob—I think the Mafia.”
Suzette looked askance. “Golly, so those vibes Rochelle felt last night—that dark energy or whatever—could have come from the madam or the mafia.”
“The madam or the Mafia,” Savannah repeated, shivering. “Hey, what about this?” she said playfully.
“What?” Suzette asked, in anticipation.
“What if there were Mafia wars right there at the mansion and gangsters were rubbed out and maybe even buried there? Then the madam comes along forty or fifty years later and she starts tapping into their spirits.”
“Boy, do you have imagination,” Suzette said.
Just then, Lily began to fuss and squirm in her mother’s arms. Savannah stood. “Oops, better go take care of my little one.”
****
That evening, everyone gathered again around the dining room table for dinner. Once they had been served, Rags and Koko sauntered in. “Oh, you let him out?” Michael remarked.
Savannah responded, “Yeah, I figure it’s safe once the sale’s over for the day and there aren’t people going in and out.” She looked at the Siamese cat. “Anyway, he stays pretty close to Koko. I don’t think she’ll lead him astray.”
“Have they eaten?” he asked.
When Savannah shook her head, Alton, their server, said, “I’ll get their meals.”
“So, Michael, how was Rags’s performance today?” Arthur asked.
He chuckled. “Actually, he was pretty cooperative. He didn’t like the part where he had to stay in his pen, though.”
“Oh, you took the pen?” Savannah asked.
“Yes. Didn’t want him being cooped up in the carrier all day and I wasn’t going to manage him on a leash throughout the conference. He was okay. And he did enjoy having an audience for his performance.” He chuckled. “Savannah, you know that ragdoll gene he carries?”
She nodded.
“He displayed it while I was doing the demonstration. He seemed to think he was debuting for a movie role or something. You should have seen him sprawled out on the table, looking at the audience from upside down. He had them cracking up.”
Savannah chimed in. “Did anyone pay attention to the demonstration or was Rags too
entertaining?” She snuggled against Michael briefly and said, “Did he upstage you, hon?”
Michael laughed and glanced at Savannah, then Suzette. “So how did your day at the library go? Uncover anything interesting about this place?”
The two women exchanged looks and Suzette said, “Yeah, interesting stuff about the Randall family. Old lady Randall was a psychic or medium or something.”
Savannah nodded. “She had spiritual healings, séances, and things like that in here.”
“Really?” Arthur said, putting down his fork.
Suzette looked at Savannah impishly and said, “Yeah, and there were Mafia gangsters here before that and,” she giggled, “Savannah thinks there was a gangster war and the madam tapped into the spirits from all of those who were… wasted… ” She looked at Savannah, then said, “… no, that were rubbed out, right Savannah?” she said laughing.
Savannah cocked her head. “You never know. It could happen.”
Arthur took a deep breath before speaking. “My stepgrandmother, when she would come here when we were children, used to say there was… what was the term she used… malevolence in this house. She didn’t much like being here. She said she sensed something… evil.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t pay any attention to that—of course, I was just a kid. Later, when I thought about it, I figured she was just feeling the evil energy from her son, Charles Peyton.”
“Where is Pearl, anyway?” Savannah asked, looking around. “Isn’t she staying here?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, she comes over to putter in the rose garden or to have cocoa with me sometimes, but she isn’t good with crowds. She’d rather stay alone at her place on the other side of the marsh.”
“She has a car now?” Savannah asked. “She was so isolated when Aunt Margaret and I were at her house a few months ago. She had no phone… no car.”
“Yeah, I insisted she get both. So she drives over here every day. The more people here, the farther away from the place she stays.”
