by catt dahman
Virgil thought a second, “It seems to me that among the fanciful inventions, there were deadly things in the house…like that geared guillotine…The simplest theory is that visitors ran into danger in some of the rooms and were killed back in the old days and maybe it wasn’t reported.”
“Like the hall of weapons, ropes, and dangerous devices are covered by a glass wall and visitors aren’t allowed in to the hall,” Josie agreed, “It’s a shame that so much simply can’t be opened to the public t view, but of course we will allow you, with a guide, to see whatever you want to look at.”
Vivian nodded, “A woman, man or child blundered in, was decapitated or stabbed by one of the automates, was killed and then when found, the Kingsboroughs and their staff took the bodies away and cleaned up the gore, and never spoke of it again. I imagine the way servants were treated here and paid, not a one would have whispered a word. We’ll have to be allowed into one of those real rooms…like that hall, so we can carefully look for trap doors.”
“That seems very dangerous,” Josie paled under her pretty, tanned skin, “but of course, as I said, you will be.”
“We’ll take full precautions and be careful but it might help. We know they didn’t wrap blood leaking bodies and lug them dripping through the house, so there must be some secret passages you’ve never found. I feel like I need a bigger team for this big of a house because want I want someone on every tour, watching.”
“You can bring more people in? Winter and spring are not so bad, but summer, there’s always someone…maybe two missing every week, and it goes that way until the first cold snap.”
“Do you have rooms with more beds?” Vivian asked. She was thinking of her deputy friend Tina Rant and Virgil’s new female friend who wanted to actually try for the FBI one day. Her name was Fairalee.
“I can have a room for you and your husband and another one for the two ladies to share if that’s okay? Who else? We need some strong fellows just in case anything goes awry, if that’s possible, and so each female has a date to the Grande Masquerade Ball and the Formal dinners.”
Virgil nodded.
“Daddy and Momma can come up and look after Janice since she’s still recovering from childbirth and they’ll be glad to take care of Charlie. Daddy can fill in. That way, Tina could come here.” Vivian explained, “Tina is also a deputy and one of the smartest, bravest people I know. She’s very sharp.”
“Okay, so I’ll see if Agent Lord can send me two men to act under my authority. Does that sound fair?”
Josie held a finger up, “Remind them to bring tuxedoes. And for the ladies to bring a ball gown, two sets of formal wear, and a party dress.”
Vivian’s face sank, “I doubt Fairalee has any of that, and I know Tina doesn’t.” She thought of Tina in a ball gown and almost giggled.
“Never fear, I can solve that and am glad to do it since you are getting a good team here to figure this out. They should be here though…now…”
“I’ll get Mason to fly Fairalee out here and Tina can catch a plane heading this way, if Mason greases the wheels…his men may come in from Virginia….I better get busy,” Virgil said, heading back to the office to call.
“Honey?” Vivian used her sweetest tone.
“Hmmmm?” He was on guard at once. He knew she was up to something.
“It’s a fancy ball and fancy dinners and swing music with all the glamour…would you just ask Mason straight out to send two of his men who are single, smart, and handsome?”
“Vivian. I’m…shocked….” He chuckled.
“Oh, it’s for my own selfish reasons. I need there to be some really cute men available so I won’t have to worry about women chasing you…my husband, who will be the best looking guy in the room.” She smiled brightly.
Virgil growled but didn’t frown as he agreed to requests.
Josie had a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing hysterically.
Vivian leaned closer to Josie, “We’re gonna need some sexy, beautiful dresses, some perfume, and jewelry, a hair dresser, and maybe a whole staff to get those two fancied up. One’s a deputy sheriff who spits nails and the other is a young hippy Californian,” Vivian admitted.
“Trust me. My secret weapon is turning a sow’s ears into pretty purses….I have that one and only talent…we can do this for sure.”
Chapter Two: History Lessons
After a scented oil bath, Vivian changed into her nightgown and curled up in their fluffy bed with piles of books beside her, a stack of bookmarks, a pen, and a pad of paper. She wanted to begin the work of reconstruction the history of the house and all the major players from the past.
Virgil was busy the entire time she bathed, and still wandered the room, searching for traps and triggers. Vivian called out interesting information as he looked over every inch of the room with a strong flashlight, feeling for bumps and levers.
So far, the room, dressed in soft cottons, wools, and silks in shades of a watery, bluish-green, was giving up no secrets. Virgil told her, “This art? It’s ancient and probably was designed by Aztecs, after the Spanish take-over. These birds? The feathers aren’t just bits of feathers but are tiny feathers themselves, maybe from a hummingbird. The detail is unreal. The sun is gold flakes and some other stone flaked but so close in color they just shimmer. Imagine the time it took to produce something like this.”
“You should have been an art dealer,” Vivian said.
“Then I would miss seeing treasures like this and my cigar store Indian I got from the asylum.”
Vivian nodded and began to recite facts as she learned them. In 1860, a wealthy man named John Kingsborough, immigrated to the United States along with his family; his father sought better business opportunities. His father, already doing well for himself, always said that when a man saw his true dream, his one great love, that it was essential to spare no expense, and to never begrudge a second of time in following that dream.
“That makes sense, in moderation,” Virgil agreed.
To John’s father, that always meant following his robber baron roots and grabbing businesses, investing in new products, or chasing after the next great land deal. In fifteen years, John was worth several times his father’s fortune, jumping from one obsession to the next and always making huge profits. Everyone claimed that everything the Kingsborough family touched turned to gold.
“Luck or brains?”
Vivian shrugged, “Looks like people said luck, although the elder Mr. Kingsborough was credited with being smart.”
It was only later, after tragedies occurred, and an odd house was built, that whispers changed, declaring that the Kingsborough family bankrupted other businesses and families, caused suicides, and made many miserable. Some said the family was cursed but others claimed the family used curses to build their fortunes.
“Stop and check that in the other books. What kinds of curses? Why did they say that? I wouldn’t think they would use that word.”
Vivian nodded, “Okay. Give me a few seconds. You don’t believe in curses.”
“But it seems some people did believe…”
“I’ll come back to this, but the Kingsborough’s builder was a man from New Orleans. This was before the time of Maria Laveau, the Voodoo Queen who incorporated Catholic beliefs and ceremonies, and was more about protection from evil, staying healthy, and granting desires. Before that, voodoo was brought into New Orleans by the African slaves and was somewhat the same, but this books says there were dark gods and evil spells and curses at times. Haitian vodou is thought to be much darker because of zombies and vodou dolls. John Kingsborough spent time in New Orleans and then hired his builder from there, later.”
“Not a very strong connection,” Virgil said, running a hand all along the fireplace’s mantle, feeling underneath, along the sides, and across the top. He poked every jade brick, and discovered that they weren’t solid and worth a fortune, but was only a false façade; it was still expensively made. If there were whi
spers about curses, he preferred there to be a strong connection.
“The Kingsboroughs didn’t attend church like many did, so that probably contributed to the rumors,” Vivian said.
“In that time period, it would.”
There were a few séances in the house and that was all Vivian could find so far. She reminded Virgil they were to 1875 and to let her work from a timeline and to wait for more details. John Kingsborough was wealthy, but was also searching for his true calling and a dream. Je was of an age to marry and have children.
For John, the dream came in the form of a tiny, thin girl that most men would dismiss as too frail for marriage and children, but John was fascinated with Edith Roundtree’s child-like size, cascading red hair, and with her fiery intelligence that likely as not, exploded in paroxysms of fury. She was far from his normal life of simplicity and calm ways.
For a small fifteen year old, she was loud and had a strong voice that carried on the air. When she knew what she wanted, she made sure people understood and made it happen; she demanded the best quality, and she never settled for less than perfect.
It was as she threw a fit in a feed store, demanding that the proprietor either lower a price on a saddle or have the leather accented with bits of silver, that John first saw and heard her. When asked why this mattered so much, she stomped a foot and flung her hair out, asking if the man were so daft that he would think gold would accent her hair color in the least; of course silver was the only choice. She explained all about color, quality, and asked why silver was considered a less valued thing. She went on and on about her views.
In a confused state, the shop’s owner discounted the price instead, in order to hurry her from his establishment. He had no idea what she was chattering on about or what it had to do with the saddle, but was also unsure as to how to get rid of the small, loud girl except to take a loss on the saddle.
John Kingsborough quickly accosted a lady from his church, begging her to introduce him to the young lady, and he used his best manners, allowed his slight British accent to thicken, and exuded all the hints of wealth he could. The woman from the church was perplexed as to why John Kingsborough would want to meet Edith, of all people. The girl was best described as a wild horse who would never accept a bridle.
“So John at least once was active in the church,” Virgil interrupted.
“True.”
Edith Roundtree only smirked, unimpressed as she met John. Flirting, dancing, and wooing was boring to her and she was more prone to riding horses, reading adventure stories, or climbing trees with her brothers. She was rude and uncaring, fairly dancing in place so she could take her leave and forget the man who stared at her. She had no interest in meeting this man.
It took him a full year of sending gifts, “accidently” meeting up with her, and trickery with the help of her parents before she would agree to allow him to court her and even then, hardly encouraged him. Her mother and Father not only approved of John’s wealth, but were beginning to fear no man would ever notice their wild daughter.
She spent more time berating his inferior horsemanship and lack of education than being nice. Had he not randomly presented her with a particularly beautiful, tamed barn cat that was splotched with colors in a calico pattern, she might never have taken a liking to him, but the kitten softened her, making her face alight with almost beauty. She was so tender and loving to the kitten that John fell fully in love.
Of all things, the kitten made Edith notice John. That he gave her a gift without her having to throw a fit and explain what she wanted, made her reevaluate her suitor.
A year later, she quietly agreed to a betrothal, saying he was “acceptable” as she stroked her cat, Isis. Like the cat, she mistrusted John as she did anyone else, and watched to find fault with him, but he was loyal and dedicated to Edith. He was happy, thrilled that his wealth could, indeed, buy happiness.
Another year and they were married in a ceremony so decadent and luxurious that some claimed it was vulgar. Edith wasn’t a beautiful bride, but she was striking in a French gown painstakingly designed for simplicity and so beaded with tiny pearls and bits of silver that it weighed almost as much as she. Heavily scented flowers filled the church. Women in town instantly wanted gowns similar and bemoaned that they didn’t have tiny figures and a cascades of flame-colored hair. In a year, every woman wanted brightly colored dresses, preferred silver to gold, and had gardenias and roses planted everywhere.
After a European tour, Edith was a loyal wife, responsible, and smart; John never glanced at another women so in love with her he was. Every place they stopped, Edith bought baubles to send back, furniture, gowns she might never wear, odd trinkets, and books for her library she planned. Not once did John deny her something she picked out. Like a child, she tested her limits and found none. She never proclaimed wild feelings for her husband, but her gaze seemed to be always on his face, and no one had to wonder if he had won her heart.
“And that is the story of how John and Edith were married.”
Virgil smiled and took a break from investigating, sitting on the edge of the bed, “That’s kind of romantic. I was like that with you. Once we were working together, I was hooked.”
“Oh? I wasn’t ever sure, because you said I was your girl and claimed me before you even kissed me,” Vivian laughed.
“Old fashioned. I never dreamed I would find a wife like you. I figured I’d end up with some dull town-girl and just get by.”
Vivian laughed harder, “You silly man. You’ve yet to figure out how good looking you are. Why do you think I spoke to you as fast as I could? I had to nab you first.”
Virgil grinned.
Seeing his wife’s sexy smile convinced Virgil to stop his search of the room and climb into bed.
Chapter Three: Tricks and Treats Tour
Fin Carter and Ed Ripley shook hands all around, glad to meet the sheriff that Special Agent Mason Lord always spoke so highly of. Both men were attractive without being pretty; Carter was blond and blue-eyed and Ripley was his opposite with dark hair and dark eyes.
Fairalee hugged Virgil enthusiastically as soon as she saw him, and did the same when she meet Vivian, “I feel like I already know you, Vivian. You’ve been my carrot on the stick while I’m studying and working with Rivera and Jones in Sierra Blanco.”
“Do you like being a deputy?”
“I love it. I owe Virgil so much for changing my life. I hope I can learn a lot from you while we’re here…isn’t this a gorgeous house?”
Vivian smiled, “In some ways it is.”
Virgil was surprised to see that while Fairalee dressed a little more conservatively now, her personality was more vivid with confidence and enthusiasm. She was far more self-assured now that she had goals. She wanted to be the first women in the FBI.
“We read all about the case you both cracked in the asylum. Rivera laughed at the idea of being there with so many suspects and Jones shuddered, but was fascinated. He said he knew there was more to the story than we read about in the papers,” Fairalee said.
Virgil grinned, “There’s always the story that is told, and the real story.”
“You better know I will ask you all about it.”
“Ask away. That doesn’t mean I can answer everything,” Virgil said.
Ripley chuckled, “You sound like one of us. Hey, thanks for the invitation to come here. I know it’s work, but this is a nice place. It’s like a working vacation.”
“It could be, if you don’t suddenly vanish,” Vivian said.
“I read the file. Strange stuff,” Fin Carter added.
Tina Rant was the other deputy to join them and grinned wide, “Viv, your father is almost taking over the department…I think he is loving a new place for a while and he loves bossing Nick and Joey around.” She was in her uniform and some whispered she didn’t own anything but uniforms since she worked so much and loved her position.
Vivian groaned, “He’s being bossy after a d
ay and a half?”
“You know your dad, Viv. Joey is pulling his hair out already and furious I got to come and he didn’t. Nick is pouting as well.”
Vivian laughed, “We need brains here, not brawn. We’ve checked out the museum and the rooms that correlate to them. They are unreal, but try to get over and catch a museum tour because that will help you understand how weird and complex this place is. Everything here is like an automation. Seriously, you’ll have to see that for yourselves.”
“That sounds strange,” Carter said, “I have to admit, I have always wanted to see this place.”
“What’s first?” Ed Ripley asked.
“We can catch the gardens and outside tours anytime, but I signed us all up for the one-hour house tour so we could hear the background together and see some of the interesting spots. That’s tomorrow. Make sure you all get with Josie, the manager and see the museum because it’s really amazing and will give you a better idea of how everything works around here,” Virgil explained.
The rest of the day was spent catching everyone up, showing them some rooms, examining various places, and running measurements. The new group was excited after viewing the museum and matching rooms; they couldn’t stop talking about the intricate clock works.
Josie showed them a room that she said ws always kept locked and wasn’t on any tours, “Here in the Toad Room, you can see why we call it so. There are 978 frogs and toads displayed on cushions, décor, figurines, and more. If we counted the ones on the wallpaper, there is no telling the number.”
“I love the paper,” Vivian said.
“It was hand-painted in France,” Josie said. The room was filled with green light from a stained glass window. Sofas and chairs filled the room and many were around a polished, large table. Everywhere were toads and frogs of all shapes and materials, “This would have been a gaming room for cards or tarot card readings. The bamboo plants are all original, cut back or replanted but they love the sun from the low window.”
