by Roger Hayden
The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion
Title Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
The Haunting Of Bechdel Mansion
DBS Publishing LLC
Copyright 2016 by DBS Publishing LLC
Smashwords Edition
Chapter One
Retrospect
The Redwood Murders: Twenty Years Later
By Anthony Moore, Staff Writer, The Dover Sentinel
By 1975, the Bechdel mansion, located in the historical town of Redwood, Indiana, was considered the height of opulence. The lush acres that surrounded the mansion dated back generations to the nineteenth century. Reportedly of Dutch descent, the Bechdels migrated throughout the early U.S. colonies as trappers, traders, vendors, and developers, establishing a thriving dynasty that tragically came to an end on one summer night.
Early Census records cited the Bechdels as one of the largest families in the U.S. with over twenty-five families at the time carrying their respective bloodline. Their wealth, power, and influence knew no bounds. By the twentieth century, however, all of that changed. Historians often point to a mystical family curse that many believe doomed the family line to extinction.
The “Bechdel” curse has fascinated folklore and urban legend enthusiasts for years. The trials, tragedy, and misfortune of that followed the Bechdel bloodline cannot be overstated. Perhaps this is why the Redwood mansion continues to bring tourists to the area to this day. There has to be something out there. There has to be answers to explain the mystery behind the curse. Whatever the reasons, the 1970s saw the last living heirs of the family name.
George and Anabelle Bechdel prided themselves among the town's most influential and powerful families. They had three sons and one daughter. Their eldest son, Travis, was engaged to be married to a wealthy real estate heiress. The recent engagement was the toast of the town. Though the merging of two wealthy families wasn’t front page news, everyone in town had heard about it.
On June 25, 1975, the Bechdel’s hosted a dinner party to celebrate the engagement. The parents of the bride, Victor and Holly Drake, were in attendance with their daughter, Katelyn. It was supposed to be a night of new beginnings and good cheer. Instead, it ended in tragedy and disaster. Even the skeptics had to admit that the existence of a family curse at least made some kind of sense. Some just didn’t want to admit it.
Redwood had grown considerably over the years from its initial establishment. Its quaint shops, local Inns, and pubs were a favorite to those who preferred rural life in a quiet village town to the busy congestion of the city. It was a popular town, but that soon changed following the brutal murder of the last Bechdel family and their party guests. No one was spared.
Fifteen people murdered in cold blood during the late hours of the evening. Much has been written about the “Redwood Massacre” since then, and countless theories, conspiracies, and offered for good mix. That is because to this day, the killers are still out there. After an initial investigation and subsequent media frenzy case grew cold within a year.
There were plenty of suspects but nothing ever materialized. Over time, all the hype and frenzy surrounding the case and it naturally faded, leaving a fractured town that still struggles to find its place today. There are some residents who believe that the Bechdel’s brought the curse with them upon settling in Redwood and that it has spread throughout the entire town. But there are other people, Pastor Phil, of the First Christ Church of Redwood, who believe that the town’s worst days are long behind them. Rather, they believe that the best days lie ahead.
There is no doubt that the unsolved murder of fifteen people shocked the community and tore the facade of innocence and harmony from Redwood. From then on, the town was never the same. But perhaps there is still hope for the future of Redwood. Only time will tell.
Chapter Two
Detective Work
Redwood, Indiana
June 25, 1975
Julie Bechdel sat on her bed bored as sounds of laughter and music rang throughout her room from below. Her parents were entertaining again, marking the engagement of her older brother, Travis, to a girl from a wealthy family. An heiress, they called her. Julie had to look the word up. The girl had a lot of money, but so did Julie’s family. She didn’t understand what the big deal was.
To Julie, her brother was too young to get married. He had just graduated high school. His fiancé, Kate, was just entering her senior year of high school. They were a year apart. Both their parents not only supported the engagement, they had insisted on it. Everything, however, seemed to be happening very fast. Julie had her suspicions.
She was a bright and perceptive eleven-year-old. And even though her room was adorned with plenty of games, books, and magazines, she was more curious about what was going on downstairs.
Julie was the only girl among four siblings, and she believed that had more to do with being sent to her room than her age. Her other brothers were all allowed to stay up, and they were only five or six years older. Whatever the reasons, she found the party distracting. She couldn't sleep if she wanted to, and it was time to get a closer look.
Wearing her nightgown, Julie got out of bed and walked across the hardwood floor. She could already smell the cigar smoke before even opening the door. With the turn of a knob, she carefully ventured out of her room and down the hallway which led to a winding staircase. She stopped at the railing and looked below over the smoke-filled lounge.
Guests sat among plush green sofas conversing or stood on the white tile floor admiring the artwork which adorned the room. The Men in suits and women in their glittering evening gowns both looked the height of elegance. Julie's brother, Travis, stood near a window talking with her other brothers, John and Alex, all in white long-sleeved tuxedo shirts and bowties. A record spun from the turntable, booming with jazz music.
Past the lounge sat a long dining room table with empty plates from dinner. Julie knew every nook and cranny of the two-story mansion and its fifteen rooms. She was born there. Her parents were very protective of her, and rarely let her have a social life beyond the few friends they approved of. She had spent a lot of time within the mansion and discovered all sorts of ways to move around undetected. That evening, she decided to do some investigating.
From below, guests cupped wine glasses and sipped periodically. Julie could hear her mother, Anabelle, laughing out of view. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. She crept down the stairs without a single head turning in her direction. The entire affair seemed strange to Julie. She reached the bottom of the stairs and stayed low. No one had noticed her yet.
She rushed behind the nearest couch to her right where a couple talked. She peeked over the top of the couch and felt a certain thrill to her spying. She turned to the gaming room across the lounge and saw her parents standing next to a billiards table mingling. Her father, George, puffed on a large cigar with some other men, drink in hand, as her mother chatted with the women.
Next to the gaming room was the library—her favorite room in the house. She could see inside. Katelyn, her brother's fiancé, stood next to a book shelf with her parents in conversation. Julie wanted to get a listen. She moved along the side of the room, staying close to the thick red drapes that adorned the windows behind her.
She dropped to her knees next to a china cabinet as one of her brothers walked past her from the opposite direction. She was sure she had been s
potted. His black pant legs kept going as she sighed with relief. She crawled to the corner of the room and crouched behind a vacant sofa chair, ready to sprint toward the library.
The music stopped for a moment as the record ended and flipped over. Julie waited until the next song came on and then ran across the room with stealth and reached the open double doors of the library. The Drake family were within an earshot. Julie stuck her head into the room, careful to not expose herself. The parents had their back to Julie. She saw Katelyn’s brown wavy hair over her parents’ shoulders.
"Well, you love Travis, don't you?" Katelyn's mother asked, her red hair in a perm and wearing silk blue evening gown.
"Of course I do, but--"
"Then what's the problem then?" her mother asked.
"This is all happening too fast," Katelyn said.
Julie knew it. There was something more to the engagement than her own parents had led on. She crept closer to the side of a tall book shelf, taking cover on its side.
Kate's father interjected with his own take. "I understand that you're nervous. That's only natural. It will all pass soon enough."
Kate shuffled in place, shaking her head. "It's not just that. What about college? I'm graduating high school next year and all this talk about children... I don't know if I'm ready."
Kate's father put his hand on her shoulder, his gray hair thinning on top. Julie couldn't see the parents’ faces but could still detect her own worry in their daughter’s concerns. "That's enough of that talk,” he said. “You have your entire life to do whatever you wish, but you will be marrying this boy. Our family's fortunes rely on it."
"Listen to your father, dear," Kate's mother added. "This is about more than..." she paused in hesitation.
Kate was quick to respond. "About what? My future? My own happiness?"
Her father tilted his head back, laughing nervously. "Of course not. Your happiness is very important to us."
"Very much so," her mother said. "We all have our little parts to play for a greater good. For the family."
"Well said, dear," her father said.
"Thank you," her mother said.
Katelyn threw her arms down in frustration. Julie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Her suspicions, it seemed, were true.
She recalled Travis expressing similar doubt at the breakfast table the morning prior. In response, her father shut him down without hesitation and told him to go to his room. As she stood near Katelyn and her parents, she did her best to remember every word so that she could write about it in her diary. She was ready to get to the bottom of things when her mother’s voice rung out from behind.
"Julie Lynn Bechdel!"
Julie spun around in a panic and saw her mother, Anabelle, standing in the doorway, pearls around her neck, glass in hand, and her face enraged. Julie struggled to speak, but found herself frozen.
"What are you doing in here?" her mother asked.
Katelyn's parents turned around, surprised to see Julie standing nearby.
Julie thought quickly. "I-I couldn't sleep. I was just going to grab a book."
Anabelle moved to Julie like a hawk and yanked her by the arm. "You're not allowed down here. We told you to go to bed an hour ago!” Julie struggled to get loose as her mother turned to Katelyn's parents, blushing. "I'm very sorry."
"Quite all right," Katelyn's dad said with a smile. His wife, however, stood stoned-faced and unamused.
"Let's go," Anabelle said, pulling her out of the room.
"You're hurting me!" Julie cried out as heads turned in their direction from the lounge.
Her mother's grip remained as she dragged Julie toward the staircase. She saw her father peer out from the gaming room, wearing a stoic frown. She was in trouble, that much was clear. Her mother stopped at the bottom of the stairs and released Julie's arm.
"Now go to bed and stop this bad behavior," she said.
Julie felt angered and defiant. Her brothers watched her from across the room, not getting involved. Guests attempted to turn their attention away, but it was clear that the scene had gotten their attention.
"How can I go to bed with all the noise you're making down here!" Julie said.
More heads turned and Julie could see the embarrassment and inner rage in her mother's glazed eyes. She could hear her father’s dress shoes clicking against the floor as he approached from the gaming room.
Her mother extended her long, skinny arm toward stairs. "Go!" she hissed.
Her father stopped beside Julie and stared down. "What are you doing down here? We told you to go to your room after dinner." His bow-tie was undone and his short black hair was messy. Like her mother, there was a slight slur to what he said. She wondered how many glasses of wine both of them had already consumed.
"I've got this under control, George," Anabelle said.
He raised his hands up defensively and back away. "If you say so.” He turned and rejoined the party as a new jazz track came blaring from the turntable speakers.
Julie took one step up the first stair and could feel he mother’s stare. She turned her head slightly to see her still there, arms crossed.
"I'm going!" Julie said. "Sheesh."
"Good night," Anabelle said in a steely tone.
Her parents could be both loving and cold depending on the situation. That evening, they seemed to have little patience for her antics. She came to the middle of the winding staircase to hear her mother finally walking away. She peered over the side as the party resumed and guests returned to their conversations. She wanted to find out more, but knew better than to push it.
She headed back up the stairs eager to continue record her findings in her diary. The party continued on as she closed the door behind her, only muffling the music and obnoxious laughter reverberating through the halls. Her blinds were open and the night sky was amassed with blankets of tiny stars. She approached her window and looked out into the courtyard below. Beyond the flowing fountain she saw a line of luxury vehicles, a few limos among them. Then from the shadows of the road leading into the courtyard, she saw headlights.
Chapter Three
Party Crashers
Julie watched in wonder as a large white van pulled into the courtyard and parked. It’s rusty exterior and rattling engine made it out of place from the other guests’ vehicles. Perhaps the driver was lost. She kept watch as things only grew stranger. The van’s headlights went out. The doors opened and several figures emerged. Beyond the glow of the fountain, she couldn’t tell who they were, but it seemed to be a lot of them.
A troubling feeling stirred in her gut. Something wasn’t right. Something hadn’t seemed right about the entire dinner party. As they approached the front door, she saw five people dressed in black. They were wearing masks. Black ski masks. The even had guns. Panic gripped her guts. She turned around and rushed toward her door in hopes to warn her parents.
From the hall, she heard an abrupt slam of the door in the foyer below. Several footsteps entered the house right through foyer. They had a doorman, and Julie wondered how they had gotten inside? She to the railing frightened and hoped they weren’t as dangerous as they looked from her window.
A shiver went done her spine as the mystery people entered the lounge came into view—five men, dressed in black and wearing ski masks. They each had long guns. Rifles maybe. They looked like something out of a movie. Surreal and nearly impossible to make sense of. The guests remained oblivious to the intruders as the music muffled their rapid approach in the open lounge area.
One of the masked men kicked over the turntable unit, gaining the attention of everyone in the room. The music stopped, followed by a large crash. Some of the women screamed. The gunmen rushed forward and formed an arch as a large man in the middle stepped forward, aiming his weapon at the terrified guests.
"Hands up! Don't make a move!" he shouted through his mask. "I want everyone in this room right now. Every swinging dick!"
Julie crouched down behin
d the railing in a panic. She didn't know what to do. She hadn't been seen yet, but that could quickly change. She thought of the nearest phone--in her parent's room at the end of the long hall upstairs. She wanted to act, but her legs wouldn't move.
"All of you. That's right, come on out," the lead gunman continued as terrified guests packed into the lounge. Julie peeked over the railing, shaking. She hadn't seen her parents yet. Her brothers were in view with their hands up, frozen with fear. The gunman paced around from side to side with the rifle against his shoulder. He seemed satisfied with the fear they had caused among the dinner guests.
"The first person I want to see is Mr. George Bechdel." He paused, looking around and then aimed his rifle at the group. "Let's go, Georgy boy. Front and center!"
From the stunned crowd, George stepped forward. He was sweating and his hair was even more of a mess than a few minutes ago. One of the other gunmen moved to him and pulled him closer, pushing him on the ground as more screams followed. To see her father helplessly tossed on the floor of his own home was a terrifying sight. But things got even worse when her mother stepped forward.
"Leave him alone!" she shouted. "Who are you, and what do you want?"
From his knees, George raised his a hand up, urging her to be calm. The lead gunman, however, had his own ideas on dealing with her outburst. His smacked her across the face with his gloved hand and sent her stumbling backwards. Several women shrieked.
Infuriated, George jumped up. "You son of a bitch!" He tried to tackle the lead gunman, but was instantly subdued with the buttstock of one of the other men’s rifle, clubbing him over the back. George collapsed on the floor, dumbstruck and in agony. Julie wanted to scream out. She wanted to do something, but couldn't she move?
"Don't make me do that again," the lead gunman said.
