The Squeaky Ghost Gets the Curse

by Kennedy Layne

  “Nonsense.” Izzy patted the tissue underneath her eyes before reaching inside the desk for what turned out to be a physical sign-in register. I have never seen one of those, expect in the movies. It reminded me of the way hotels kept ledgers back in the day. The added touch had most likely been Florence’s idea, since her passion for the Victorian era was so prevalent in everything that surrounded us. Visiting this place was like stepping back in time. “My mother put everything she had into this place, and I will see to it that her legacy lives on properly. I do know that there is a wedding of a prominent local resident taking place this weekend in the immediate area, and I highly doubt that you will find a place to stay within thirty miles. As my mother would so often say—Welcome to Ashton Manor.”

  “Ms. Ashton, we couldn’t possibly—”

  Izzy cut off my feigned attempt at departing the premises by bringing her finger down directly onto a silver bell, also a throwback to the olden days. The residual ringing in my ears didn’t prevent me from hearing a random expletive float from the general direction of the great room. Apparently, Faye and Joshua understood perfectly the meaning behind the ringing of the silver bell.

  They don’t seem too pleased at our presence, but who could blame them? They are grieving for a relative, and they have no idea that we are here to help them receive closure for the tragedy of their loved one’s death.

  I guess in the grand scheme of things, they did have closure. Unfortunately, their closure was based on a misunderstanding.

  Ms. Florence Isla Ashton did not die from tripping and experiencing a horrific fall.

  She’d been murdered.

  We could easily leave this case alone to focus on the medium needed to help solve my curse, but that would mean we’d purposefully be leaving the Ashton family to deal with an evil-spirited poltergeist they had no idea still plagued their family.

  My sweet Piper, make sure you update that app of yours. We now have four suspects.

  Sure enough, a woman who had to be in her sixties suddenly appeared from out of nowhere. Pearl seemed to be playing devil’s advocate, because a few moments ago she was all for the culprit being the resident ghost.

  One should never rule out the obvious, dear hexed one.

  “Please, let me do this for my mother,” Izzy replied with a kind smile. She gestured toward the newest arrival. “This is Gertrude, and she will see you to your suite of rooms.”

  Gertrude simply nodded our way without speaking nor smiling. She’d let strands of silver weave through her hair over the years, not bothering to fight the aging process. Her shoulders were ramrod straight, and I couldn’t pick up any hint as to what her feelings were regarding the death of her former employer.

  Orwin’s abilities would have come in handy right about now, but his capacity to read people’s thoughts were just postponed until his arrival later this evening. Once he got a read on everyone in this manor, it should be relatively simple to rule them all out should the poltergeist be the true culprit.

  Unfortunately, that would mean we had bigger problems on our hands. Banishing an evil spirit wasn’t as easy as opening a door and pushing them through the exit and beyond the veil.

  Regarding Ms. Gertrude’s lack of emotion, she’s simply showing her professionalism as a staff member. It appears that she does not allow her personal feelings to interfere with her job. I respect her dedication to the rules of etiquette and proper society. My sweet Piper, please move her to the very bottom of the suspect list.

  “We provide breakfast and dinner, although the morning meal has already passed. Supper will be served at approximately seven o’clock this evening. We dress for dinner, as is custom. I already have your credit card on file, so your rooms are taken care of,” Izzy said, sliding over two vintage skeleton keys adorned with braided silk tassels. It didn’t escape my notice that she wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. “Should you need anything at all, there is a phone in your room that will automatically dial down to the front desk.”

  Gertrude had come to stand next to the high-top cherry wood desk, clasping her hands in front of her as she waited patiently for Izzy to finish her welcoming speech. Gertrude would no doubt be a wealth of information about the manor and the grounds, as well as the Ashton family history. More particularly, their subtleties. Who better to know the ins and outs of this place than a long-time employee who was trained to pay attention to their needs?

  Another employee?

  “May I collect your luggage?”

  Sure enough, an English-accented gentleman around the same age as Gertrude seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He was wearing a suit straight out of the Victorian era, giving himself a rather dapper appearance that matched his proper English. I highly doubt the erstwhile style is what he would have chosen as his own. With that said, he was the epitome of a distinguished gentleman.

  “This is our concierge, Wilbur,” Izzy introduced, her attention being pulled in two directions now that Faye had decided it was time for her to voice her impression regarding Izzy’s decision to allow guests to stay in the manor just two days after Florence’s death. “I’ll leave you in Gertrude and Wilbur’s capable hands, and please enjoy your stay at Ashton Manor.”

  I could get used to a place like this, with the exception of Ms. Faye and Mr. Joshua. I’d slot them in between the poltergeist and Ms. Izzy, leaving Gertrude and Wilbur to remain last on the list.

  Izzy had practically marched toward the great room, turning only briefly to close the French doors in order to obtain a bit of privacy. She was out of luck in that department, because Faye’s objections to our reservations could easily be overheard. Joshua seemed to allow his aunt to speak for him as he continued with his phone call in the background.

  “Wilbur, thank you so much for helping us with our luggage,” Piper replied with a bright smile, feigning ignorance. She held out her hand for me to give her the Jeep keys. I wasn’t too keen on allowing someone unfettered access to the interior of my baby, but we’d prepared for this eventuality and removed every hint of magical items from the back to the RV. Thus, there was no reason for me to be rude and decline Wilbur’s offer. I reluctantly held them out for her to take. “Would you like me to accompany you?”

  “That won’t be necessary, ma’am.” Wilbur took the keys with a slight bend of his waist, before straightening to address us once more. “I will see to it that your bags are brought to your room.”

  Without another word, Wilbur turned on the heel of his black dress shoes and headed for the front door. Gertrude quietly reached for the vintage skeleton keys before holding them out to each one of us to take. We accepted them, and she just as silently turned around in order to lead us up the long and winding staircase.

  “How long have you and Wilbur worked here?” Piper asked, sidling right up next to the older woman without any hesitation. She didn’t seem the least bit worried that we might run into the apparition we’d previously seen on the landing. “Lou and I are in town to research the history of Ashton Manor, as well as other older preeminent properties in the state of Minnesota. We’re doing a written documentary on several older family homes, actually. Unfortunately, there’s only so much information available online. Seeing as there’s no better research then speaking to those who have lived here, I’d love a chance to sit down with you and Wilbur, if you have a moment to spare.”

  “My husband and I have worked for Ms. Ashton for well over thirty years.” Gertrude began to ascend the staircase with ease. I guess if I’d done this routine day in and day out, my muscles wouldn’t begrudge me the climb, either. “It’s truly a shame that our tenure here is coming to an end.”

  I kept waiting for Pearl to jump in with a witty comment or two, but I hadn’t heard a peep out of her since we’d left the large foyer.

  I’d gotten used to Pearl being next to me as I sorted through my thoughts, but I couldn’t allow her brief absence to deter me in any way. The sooner we solved this murder mystery, the quicker we’d be able to foc
us on the hexes still currently plaguing Knox and me.

  I studied Gertrude from behind, not catching the slightest hint that she was aware of what had truly happened to her employer. Had the poltergeist been a resident of the manor for some time, it wouldn’t surprise me if Gertrude and the other members of the staff had noticed odd things occurring in various rooms over the years.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” Piper quickly glanced over her shoulder to make sure I was tuned into their conversation. “What do you mean your time here is coming to an end? It sounded as if Izzy was planning on keeping the manor open, as was her mother’s wishes.”

  It turns out that Ms. Izzy is not as sweet as she has led you to believe, my sweet Piper. I stayed behind to listen in on her conversation with the others, and that woman has a profound greedy streak running through her soul.

  Pearl had rejoined the group just as the next step landed us in the exact spot that Florence had been pushed to her death. It was common knowledge that the surrounding temperature of a spirit tended to become quite frigid, but there was no residual chilliness in the air to signify what we knew to be true—a poltergeist resided within the walls of this mansion.

  It turns out that Ms. Izzy had a motive for allowing you to keep your reservation, dear hexed one.

  “I apologize. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn,” Gertrude said, continuing up the stairs without making sure I was directly behind them. The brief respite allowed me to slow my pace, giving me time to scan the landing. The runner was a plush carpeted Victorian style design laid over a polished hardwood floor, and it showed no signs of tampering—not that I thought there would be evidence left behind by a ghost or any other malcontent at this juncture. “Ms. Ashton was very good to us during our time here. If you’re interested about the history of the manor, you’ll want to spend time in the family library. The material of the family’s history is quite vast.”

  I didn’t miss the slight Gertrude had bestowed upon the rest of the Ashton family. She’d mentioned that Ms. Ashton had been good to her and Wilbur, but she’d intentionally made no mention of the other family members.

  Did you hear Ms. Gertrude apologize for speaking out of turn? Now that is a woman who was raised with proper manners. The Ashton children must have had a different role model to watch over them during their formative years, especially after hearing that Ms. Izzy didn’t want to leave the manor tomorrow morning.

  Pearl had lost me with the recount of the discussion she’d overheard while remaining behind in the great room.

  “The family won’t mind if I read through the journals and history books that recount the Ashton lineage?” Piper asked, continuing to walk side by side with Gertrude as we continued to climb to the second story of the manor. There were family portraits interspersed with expensive art hanging on the wall, each with their own lighting in the form of an overhead brass lamp. “I can only imagine how difficult this time is for them. For you, as well.”

  I discovered that Ms. Izzy and her brother were to vacate the premises first thing tomorrow morning, as per Ms. Faye’s wishes. Ms. Florence’s sister seems to believe that she holds sway over what happens here until the will is read. There was a lot of fingerpointing, but Ms. Faye has now insisted that Ms. Izzy and Mr. Joshua stay until the guests vacate the premises.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, who will inherit the manor now that Ms. Ashton has passed on?” I asked, taking the last step to the second story. Faye’s belief about being left in charge of the estate should be easy to confirm. “Her children, maybe her sister, or possibly all of them?”

  I hadn’t realized that the heavy wooden railing wrapped around in a complete circle, allowing those with rooms on this level to have a perfect view of the stairs and half the grand foyer. I’m sure the guests who’d been staying here at the time of the murder had been asked to leave, but that didn’t mean someone hadn’t witnessed Florence’s so-called accident.

  A simple spell should answer that question.

  “I wouldn’t care to speculate on that, miss. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  Oh, it is absolutely true that Ms. Faye believes she will inherit the manor and all of its contents, leaving her niece and nephew out in the proverbial cold. Have I mentioned my intense dislike for that woman?

  “Here is your room,” Gertrude announced, stopping in front of a cherry wood door with a gold-plated number three positioned directly at eye level. She unlocked the door with what appeared to be a master key and stood to the side. “Wilbur will be right up with your bags. In the meantime, you have access to the entire manor…with the exception of the other guest rooms, and of course, suite thirteen.”

  Isn’t that an interesting twist?

  “Should you need anything else, please use the rotary phone on the desk. It will ring directly down to the front desk,” Gertrude continued to explain, giving us a speech that she’d probably given nearly every day for many, many years. Considering no one was currently stationed at the front desk, I did wonder who would be answering our calls should we need extra towels. “Enjoy your stay at Ashton Manor.”

  I’ll just pop right on in to room thirteen. I shan’t be but a moment.

  “Gertrude, may I ask you one more question?” Piper inquired as she tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. The innocent gesture was probably what had Gertrude nodding her agreement. “A lot of these old estates are said to be haunted, but I didn’t see anything online about Ashton Manor to indicate such a legend exists. You’ve lived on the premises for most of your adult life. Has anything like that ever occurred here?”

  Gertrude didn’t say a single word, and I found myself holding my breath for some type of reaction. If she gave an affirmative answer, we’d be able to quickly rectify this sticky situation and be on our way. I had no idea what we’d do if she claimed never to have heard of such a tragedy occurring within the walls of the manor. The one person who knew the truth was no longer with us. I wasn’t so sure that the other family members really cared about their ancestors, given what I’ve witnessed thus far.

  “As I mentioned before, you’ll want to check out the family library,” Gertrude responded, not giving us an answer to our question at all. “Enjoy your stay.”

  Piper frowned in annoyance that her question had been ignored. She scowled down at the skeleton key in her hand, carefully turning it over in her fingers to examine its pattern. Neither one of us spoke until we were inside the room and the door was closed behind us.

  “Gertrude knows something,” Piper immediately said, as if the words had bubbled over until she couldn’t take it anymore. “These keys all look the same. I imagine anyone could use their own key to get into any of the guest rooms. Pearl, are you back? What did you find in room thirteen?”

  While we waited for Pearl to respond, I took in our surroundings. I should point out that entering the suite of rooms was like being taken back in time.

  Each room in the suite had its own natural gas hearth. The English hardwood paneling was typical of the eighteenth-century style manor house. The common sitting rooms had Queen Anne style furniture and large Oriental area rugs covering the dark polished wood on the floor.

  The Tiffany lamps were sitting on marble-topped antique end tables on either end of the sofa. A small library of leather-bound gilt-titled books adorned the wall along with a Victrola positioned on a small library table with a collection of phonograph records.

  On the other wall was a small built-in bar consisting of a virtual cascade of decanters and its own serving table with several glasses next to an ice bucket. The decanters were filled with a variety of dark-hued liquors.

  There were two additional chairs flanking either side of the sofa, centered in front of the fireplace. A coat of arms dominated the main flourish over the hearth. The beautiful oil paintings on the walls displayed a countryside one only needed to look out the window to witness for oneself.

  Centered on either wall opposite each other were two open, heavy double door
s leading to the individual bedrooms. They seemed to mirror one another.

  Each had its own fireplace and sitting area next to the large, queen-sized canopy beds, an antique writing table, and two separate chests of drawers. A large mirrored triple dresser stood in the only available space left in either of the rooms. Although there were electrical sockets for our various devices, there were no televisions or any other electronic entertainment in the rooms.

  This suite could easily have been plucked from any upscale hotel in the late nineteenth century New England cities, such as Boston or Providence. The furniture and accoutrements in these suites were of the finest available a half-century ago. No wonder the family was squabbling over the spoils. This manor had to be worth a fortune if pieced out to antique collectors that would quickly gobble up the scraps of the estate.

  I’m back, and we might have an itsy-bitsy problem.

  After having explored the suite in its entirety, I was now standing next to the window. I had carefully parted the curtain and found that the view overlooked the expansive front lawn. My Jeep was easily seen in the cobblestone driveway, the back hatch opened as Wilbur finished pulling out the two overnight cases that Piper and I had both packed before we left the RV back at the campsite.

  “What itsy-bitsy problem?” Piper asked cautiously as she lifted her cross-body purse over her head to set down on the antique desk that held an old rotary phone under the opposite window. Pearl had now shown herself to be occupying one of the sitting chairs, where she sat regally in her usual form. “Please don’t tell me that there is a body in that room.”