by Sharon Hays
“Joan, this whole thing is unbelievable. I hope they find who attacked him. It’s beginning to be a regular occurrence around here. First you, and now Mario. I’m sure neither one of us will sleep well until they do. I feel so badly for Detective Ramos.”
“Tomorrow, I’m going through the papers and documents we have. Maybe there is something that will shed light on the house and it’s past. It’s getting more bizarre by the minute.” Joan opened the file, exposing an array of documents from the Farthington family, spreading them across the table like an oversize deck of Tarot cards.
Maryanne was feeling overwhelmed. She felt like she was ready to break. Her legs felt weak, and her heart was beating furiously. “Joan, I really need to go home. I have overstayed my welcome, and I am sure you could use some privacy. As for me, I keep thinking of all that I have put off since these crazy events began. I need to be alone and think for a while. It’s so bizarre. I look at a house for a prospective investment, and it balloons into a nightmare! Go figure.”
“Don’t feel that way. Everything will turn out all right, you’ll see. Stay and get a good night sleep. You can deal with this tomorrow. Wait until morning; it’s getting late, so there is not much you can do tonight anyway. Officer Tratnik wanted us to remain inside until morning at least, for our safety.”
“I know, and do understand, but I really have to go. I appreciate your hospitality. I’ll be fine.” Maryanne gave her a quick hug, took her leather jacket from the sofa, and headed out the door. She needed to get out of the house, breath some fresh air, and get back into her own environment and in her own bed. She needed time; time to sort this out alone and undisturbed. She knew it was the right thing for her to do and walked toward her car. Officer Tratnik had returned her vehicle when he stopped by earlier.
“Thanks again. Talk to you in the morning.” She dashed down the stairs, waved and climbed into her blue Chevrolet that had seen much better days. Her car lights vanished into the darkness as Joan watched from the window.
Joan went into the bathroom, filled her Jacuzzi, and lit two aromatic candles at the foot of the oval tub. A bottle of gardenia foaming oil was just the ticket for a relaxing bath. She poured the liquid into the tub and watched as bubbles formed up like soft, white clouds. Steam filled the room, surrounding the tub like a quiet lake on a foggy night. Stepping into the bubbling fantasy, she melted into its inviting ambiance. She leaned back, trying to forget for a moment, the nightmare that had unfolded in the last week. Relaxed and comfortable, she fixed her eyes on the tall, narrow window at the end of the bathroom. She reflected on the last two days, becoming sleepy and sinking deeper into the water. She laid her head back into the water and wet her hair, pulling it out, and pushing it back against her head. She fixed a small plastic pillow behind her head and leaned back.
When she was starting to get sleepy, she glanced at the window and thought someone was staring at her behind the glass and then disappeared. She felt a scream freeze in her throat and sat up in a panic. It was startling, but she convinced herself her eyes were playing tricks on her, and rationalized that steam had caused the windows to fog up, causing the unusual looking face. Knowing the stress she was under with the recent attack on Detective Ramos, she was a little more on edge. After calming herself down, she laid back and reflected on the recent and strange occurrences at the Valencia, and then the Jacuzzi took her into a deep, restful sleep.
After twenty minutes, her alarm clock rang out, jolting her into reality. She always set the alarm while in the Jacuzzi, as its magic had put her to sleep many times before. She climbed out of the tub, finished her nightly ritual of removing makeup, brushing her teeth, and the usual women rituals. She climbed into bed, quickly falling asleep.
7
Maryanne turned past the billowing oak trees, into her isolated driveway, carefully scanning the yard to make sure all was clear. She dashed up the stairs, inserted the key, and pushed the door halfway in, examining the room, and then stepped back onto the porch and quickly snatched the mail from the box outside her door. Still apprehensive, she flipped on lights, revealing the small living room, went inside and locked both bolts behind her. It seemed extraordinarily quiet and lonely coming back here alone, and she was almost sorry she returned, but she needed the time to regroup and rationalize on the recent occurrences at the manor, and Joan’s attack. Work had been piling up, and a stack of mail was still un-opened after two days. On her way to the kitchen, she flung her jacket across the back of the sofa and turned on the light in the small kitchen, definitely appreciating how good it felt to be home. She managed to keep her focus off Detective Ramos. It only made her more anxious and upset. She turned on the coffee maker, as she had done every day since she moved in, pulled down the blinds, closed and checked the back door.
Outside, a loud clatter near the back gate gave her a scare. Taking her flashlight, Maryanne pushed the back door open slightly and pointed it around the yard. A small, black cat screeched and scurried across the lawn, and under the fence. She felt more at ease and closed the door, securing the lock. The aroma of pumpkin spice decaf was beginning to fill the room. Her favorite mug was patiently waiting next to the coffee pot. Holding it to her lips, the coffee was just what she needed to give her a boost. Maryanne sat at the table as she sipped the coffee and thumbed through her mail. When she had finished, the bedroom seemed to beckon her. Her bed was beautifully laden with red satin pillows highlighted with streaks of woven gold thread. A soft gold comforter covered the high bed, where four antique, carved, wood posts reached toward the ten-foot ceiling. Four oversized down pillows lay strategically against the massive, oak headboard. She crawled up and lay across the inviting softness. Before long, she slipped into her dreams.
She slowly ascended the winding staircase, holding on to the carved -wood railing. Pale rays of light peeking through the windows gave her just enough light to make her way. Each stair had a voice of its own in an eerie concert of creaks, squeaks, and groans. The house seemed to be alive with an uncanny harmony, echoing every sound. Her heart pounded seemingly out of her chest, and beads of sweat formed across her forehead. She swept her hair away from her face, and nearing the top, she noticed a light in the room at the end of the hall. Slowly but purposefully, she edged her way to the room. Someone was definitely in there, but she didn’t stop, and made more of an effort to reach the end of the long dark hallway.
Then she heard a slow, loud breathing. Where was it coming from? Hoarse and raspy…Louder and louder. She kept on, moving…closer. A long shadow fell across the hall just ahead, and then the light disappeared. The breathing continued, as if the house were filled with invisible beings, filling the night with terror. She had to feel her way… the subtle light from the window was disappearing as night closed in. The house seemed to be energized by the darkness; by the night. A hot, putrid smell engulfed the room, surrounding her. The smell of death was imminent. Heart beating faster, she made her way to the end of hall and moved the door, feeling her way around the frame, and into the room…
Maryanne woke up, heart pounding, in a state of consuming terror. Wanting to scream, she held back, pulling herself off the bed. Half running to the bathroom sink; she splashed water onto her face, trying to wake up, wondering if she had not been dreaming at all. She wiped her face and looked into the mirror over the sink. A pale, young woman she did not recognize looked back at her, and she fell back and screamed. “Who is that? What the hell is going on here?”
Looking behind her, she saw no one, and turned to look again, where her own reflection reappeared. She was positive she had seen the face of a young woman she could not recognize. She felt as if she were losing her grip… losing control. Maryanne reached for the phone, dialing Joan, who, of course, was first on the list when she needed a friend. Joan had gone to bed early and the phone startled her.
“Hello, who is this?
“It’s Maryanne, Joan. I am so sorry to wake you, but I had the most horrible nightmare. It’s that
house. Ever since I looked at it, strange things have been happening. I seem to see people who aren’t there, and mirrors look back at me with strangers I have never seen. I don’t know whether I am dreaming, awake or losing my mind.”
“Did you go to the Valencia?”
“No, I’m still home. I felt like I was there, and for all I know I was, but I woke up here. I need to talk to someone. Need to get it off my mind. I can’t take this. Something very weird is going on, and I’m frightened. I never thought I would say that, but I can’t get it out of my head.”
“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”
Joan dialed Detective Tratnik before she left for Maryanne’s house. By the time she arrived, he was already inside, and two EMTs were attending Maryanne. Joan came into the room where Officer Tratnik was talking to her.
“I must be going crazy. Every time I try to sleep, I dream or can’t sleep, and think of nothing but that evil house. This has to be connected with the Manor. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I think it must be haunted, or worse.”
“You’ve had a nightmare and are going to be just fine. Tell us what happened. Take it slow. Take all the time you need.” Officer Tratnik tried to console her and make sense out of the story she unfolded.
“When I was bathing, a face appeared in the window, but I thought it was just my imagination. Then I went to bed, and the next thing I knew, I was at the Valencia, and it was overwhelming. The dark, eerie house seemed like it was alive with an ethereal presence, as if it were filled with people that I could hear, but were not visible. I know it sounds ridiculous, but it was horrible! The smell was atrocious and nauseating.”
An attending EMT questioned her, “These bruises on your arm look fresh. How did you get them?”
Joan interjected, “I don’t know who could have done this, but certainly someone was either at her house to have her arm bruised like that, or she had some kind of accident.”
Maryanne rambled. “I am so confused, I thought I was home, and then I was there. I don’t know if I was dreaming or what, but I had gone to bed…yes, I must have been dreaming, and I can describe everything like it was really happening. But…I don’t know where these bruises came from. I don’t remember falling or running into anything. If I was sleepwalking, I guess that would be possible.” She was confused and disheveled.
“Just relax and we’ll get it figured out. Maryanne, you had to be dreaming. Just try to forget about it. You’ll feel much better after a good night’s sleep. You were probably sleepwalking, and fell somehow, to get hurt like that. I’ll get an ice pack for the bruises. Just be still and try to relax.” The EMT left to get the ice pack. When he returned, he wrapped it around the bruises and stood by her bedside. “Breathe deeply and exhale slowly. It will relax you. I am going to give you a Tylenol pm, so you can sleep.” Joan held a glass of water to Maryanne’s lips.
“Thank you so much for being here. I feel so much better, now. I’ve been trying to comprehend what’s happened, but it is quite unsettling. I am actually getting very sleepy, and I’m sure I’ll be feeling fine in no time.”
“If you are sure you’ll be okay, I’ll go, but remember I’m only minutes away.”
“I will be fine. Really, I am okay now, Joan, go home and get some sleep. I know you need it.”
“You’re gonna be fine tonight, and you’re right, I do need some sleep. If you need me, all you have to do is call,” she reassured her. Joan gave her a quick hug, turned the light out, leaving one of the lamps on, and locked the doors after leaving. The EMTs headed out, and Joan went to her car. Officer Tratnik stood waiting beside his car and walked toward her when she came outside.
“I’ll keep an eye on the place tonight, so don’t worry. I have a couple of cars casing the neighborhood.” He took her hand. Joan had felt a strong attraction to him and blushed as she smiled up at him.
“I would like to call you by your first name, if that isn’t too forward, Officer. I feel like I know you and would feel better not calling you ‘Officer,’ if that’s okay.”
“Sure, just call me Steve. Officer is too official anyway.”
He walked her to her car, and watched as she drove away. She looked back through the rear-view mirror and waved as she headed for home.
Bedtime was way past due. Joan went straight to the bedroom, and climbed in between a pile of pillows and drew the comforter up around her. In no time she was sleeping soundly.
8
Though, her night was restless; Maryanne seemed to get through it with no more complicated and mysterious dreams. Maryanne opened her eyes to sunlight filtering in from the four-pane window on the east wall of her bedroom. It was already eleven thirty in the morning, and also the first time she had slept past eight since she could remember. She was feeling relaxed and comfortable as she settled back on a pile of soft down pillows. She threw back the comforter and covered up with a crisp, cotton sheet, thinking about the night before. She reflected on the house and her unusual strange attraction to it.
“Impossible,” she thought out loud, wanting so much to erase the horror of the dreams from her memory. A hot shower should certainly help. She thought it would help to relax her, and definitely keep her from thinking so much.
She stood under the hot spray of water and closed her eyes, letting it run across her body. She rinsed her hair and let the water run across her face, when she noticed the water felt suddenly thicker. When she opened her eyes the water had turned blood red, slowly trailing down the curves of her pale, naked body. She screamed, pushed the curtain aside, and quickly stepped out of the shower onto the white carpet. She wrapped an oversized bath towel around her body, found her chenille robe, and ran out of the bathroom. She picked up the phone and dialed 911. She made the call, and put on her robe.
By the time the officers arrived, she had regained her composure and was sitting on the sofa in the living room. The knocks on the front door were a welcome sound, and she heard Officer Tratnik’s familiar voice.
“Maryanne, open the door! It’s Officer Steve Tratnik.” By then she had realized there was no blood. Nothing to indicate the horror she had just encountered. “Open the door Maryanne!”
She managed to get the words out, “I’m coming. Be right there.” She walked toward the door clad in her white chenille robe, still holding the blue towel; the towel with nothing to indicate that any of what she saw was true. She unlocked the door. “Come in. It’s open.”
Officer Tratnik and his current partner, Officer Montrose, who had just started working with him recently, entered looking very concerned. In her frazzled state, she wavered, and the officer held on to her, helping her to the couch. “What’s going on here, Maryanne?”
She fell back, trying to gather her senses. “Officer, I must be going crazy. There was blood; it was coming out of the shower. It covered my whole body. A thick, red, warm liquid—it had to be blood, what else could it be? It’s gone now, gone! I know it was there. I am not imagining things.”
“No, you’re not! Don’t even go there. You have had a traumatic experience, and you’re still upset. A lot has happened in a few days, but you’re going to be fine. We’ll figure this out. Do you want me to call your friend, Miss Bishop? I’m sure you can stay with her, or maybe she will come over and stay with you for awhile.”
“I hate bothering her again, but I can’t stay alone right now. Things just keep happening. You have to believe me. This is really happening!”
Joan arrived a few minutes later. Maryanne had dozed off, and Officer Tratnik covered her with a blanket from the back of the couch.
“How is she?”
“Let her sleep awhile. I’ll stick around here until she feels better.” He filled her in on the latest developments.
Joan made coffee for Steve and Officer Montrose and brought out a tray with some tea for Maryanne, when she woke up.
“Officer, what have they found out about Harold Arnold, the cousin of Mr. Farthington? You said he was staying
in town and you were investigating the possibility of him being implicated in the attack and break in of my real estate office.”
“Actually they found Mr. Arnold at the Lone Tree Motel two days ago, after a disturbance was called in, and he was drunk, passed out on the sidewalk in front of the motel. We took him in for questioning, but of course, he won’t say anything at this point. We have to charge him with drunk and disorderly now, just to keep him, so we can further investigate that break in and anything else we can find. We took prints at your office, and they are still checking that out. We’ll keep you informed as soon as we find out, Joan.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that. I worry, not knowing who broke in and what they were looking for. At least he is in custody. There’s still nothing missing, as far as I can tell.”
“We are keeping an eye on your place, so hopefully that’ll deter another attempt. I’ll make sure they keep it under observation.”
“Thanks again for all of your help.”
“Until we find out who is up to these recent break-ins, it will remain top priority, Mrs. Bishop.”
Joan liked Steve Tratnik and was taken in by his charm and personality. It seemed to fit hers to a T. He was definitely a good-looking man. She was not about to let him know she was the least bit interested, though. For now she could only think about possibilities, and she kept her demeanor serious and attentive.
Maryanne was stirring. “What’s going on? What’s everybody still doing here?” Maryanne pulled herself up.
I will stay here as long as you need. You had a bad nightmare last night, and it has you emotionally upset. If you need to talk to someone, I can make an appointment with my therapist, Tina Farley. She is very good, and can help you talk this out so you can release some of the anxiety. Then, maybe you’ll be able to get some sleep. That’s what you really need, you know. You haven’t slept well for a week; ever since this business with the Valencia Manor started. Would you like me to talk to her for you? I could get you in sooner, maybe this afternoon. Then you can start dealing with this.”
